Page 129 of As Above, So Below

Strolling at a leisurely pace, the sounds of the night are a welcome comfort over my racing thoughts. As I walk, the buildings cast shadows against one another in the light of the street lamps. Patches of shadow contrasted by bright spots of light, and I can’t help but draw parallels in my life.

Shadows plagued by light, light fighting shadow.

Save for a couple of our last encounters, all of my existence, I obeyed my father. For centuries, I’d silently begrudged each of his expectations and demands. Completing tasks as a duty-bound creature, with little regard for myself, my wants.

And now I’m free of him.

But he hounds me still.

He may not be able to impose his smothering will upon me or use compulsion to get what he wants, but he doesn’t have to anymore.

I impose them upon myself.

Because it’s all I’ve known.

I would have gone tonight. I would have endured. Worse, I would have slipped into a version of myself that’s splintered and broken—a creature trying her best to fit into a world of demons when she isn’t one. Or at least, she’s not entirely demon.

I’ve never been given the option to sayno. At least, not without serious recourse. Netharis cannot reach me here. Not like he could in the hells. I cannot let myself forget that.

Sighing at the rapidly growing mess consuming my life, I can’t help but laugh angrily to myself. It’s like I’m running, sprinting, and I cannot catch up. Just as I may break ahead, find solid footing, I run into a tree branch that knocks me flat on my ass.

It would seem Vaelyn was partially right.

Acclimating to the living realm isn’t going to be easy for someone like me. But not because of the uncontrollable urge to kill mortals—despite numerous thoughts of killing Opal. Her treatmentof Cora is more sinister than it needs to be. Instead, because of the urge to hide, just as I did in the hells.

While things are messy, it should be noted I haven’t garnered the attention of Ollora, and masses haven’t stormed the temple with hoisted pitchforks and torches screaming my name. I’d like to note that as a successful emergence into the living realm.

The sound of running water reaches my ears, and the street opens, revealing a stone bridge. It arcs across the river, and with a glance at my surroundings, I’ve walked far enough through the city to arrive at the last bridge crossing the Daxing within the city walls.

I’ve no desire to venture outside the city walls tonight.

Not with the sightings of vampires and undead lurking at night. At the same time, I’m not quite ready to return to the temple. It’s grown oppressive the last few days. It feels easier to breathe outside of its walls.

Crossing the bridge will bring me to the eastern side of the Twilight Mire. I could walk the length along the river and cross back in Stone Crossing to return to the temple. Nodding with the decision of my route, I step onto the bridge.

The bridge arcs high enough to allow passage of smaller boats, towering over the river at its highest point by twenty feet. Lanterns, hanging from ornate iron posts, cast the same silver glow as those lining the street. As I walk along the side, my fingers dance over the weather-smoothed stone of the waist high wall.

Gazing over its edge, I peer at the water below.

For a moment, I lose myself in the reflection of the city lights dancing on the river’s surface. During the day, I can easily imagine this place bustling with people. Here, during the late evening, it’s a quiet and serene place.

A small breeze pulls through and I breathe deep.

The wind always carries with it the various scents of the city. The scents are different at night—no bakeries with their fresh breads and scones, instead night-blooming jasmine, moss covered stone, and the river.

I breathe deep again.

This time, I close my eyes to enjoy the moment. But a familiarscent strikes my nose. Icy, sharp. My eyes shoot open as I whirl in the direction of the wind.

It’s a scent I know well. One that even as a creature of the hells sets my eyes watering. It’s a fabricated scent to hide the stench of death, flesh preserved by blood magic.

The scent of vampires.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

There’s no doubtin my mind, I’m being hunted.

I shouldn’t have left the temple. Nor should I have left the temple alone. Despite remaining well within the city walls, I appear an easy target. Lost in thought, in heels, no visible weapon? It makes sense for a vampire to lurk in the shadows and observe.