Page 15

H.A.Z.E

I t's rare to find a garden. It's even more rare to grow one.

Most of the land is far too toxic—too corrupted. And though large rivers separate the districts, even the water needs to be cleansed before consumption.

And yet, the Saviour has an impossibly large, almost infinite little garden inside his castle. It must be an illusion, but then, I'm not so sure.

The garden hums with life around me, bees flitting lazily between bursts of colour, the faint scent of jasmine and damp earth curling through the air. The water behind me trickles in steady streams, a soft, rhythmic sound that's meant to soothe.

It's unusual, this castle. Not only does it have feelings, but the magic is thick here, flowing in everything. Constantly. But that isn't what makes me pause. The magic—or Mana, as the Warlocks call it—is dark.

Despite the life it brings to the garden, this Mana hadn't been created from anything good. There's far too much anger in it, vengeance and… chaos.

I blow an annoyed breath. Why do I even care?

The cool stone of the fountain presses against my legs as I sit, one crossed over the other, my foot bouncing in slow, irritated motions.

A pout tugs at my lips, one I don't bother to hide. Something is watching me; they don't know I can sense them, so I decide to put on a little show while they watch. Someone may as well be entertained.

I don't want to be here. Once I opened the office door, I expected to fall back into my cell and yet, I'm here, and the door disappeared behind me.

I'm stuck!

I'm lost.

And most importantly—the most important fact of all—that goddamn mark hurts! I can still feel the lingering effect of his mark tingling across my skin. How unbelievably annoying. How the hell is he able to enslave me? I'm a Nightwalker. I should be immune to his power.

But that's the least of my worries. His presence alone is enough to make the creature inside me tremble, and I prefer it when she's sleeping. She's a little more tolerable to live with.

"I love you, too, my twin soul."

I rest my chin on my palm, elbow propped against my knee, and sigh. "I thought we made a deal; you stick your ugly little behind in the darkest corner of my mind and stay so incredibly still, I can almost— almost —pretend you don't fucking exist."

"And you said you'll stay out of trouble!" she bites back, a rush of power smacking against the mental block I had placed. "That Saviour is dangerous, Haze. I can feel it."

"Oh, I know," I murmur, glancing down at the red band tattooed around my wrist. "Believe me. I may have underestimated him, but that stops now."

I kick at a loose pebble near my foot, watching it skitter across the stone path. My frustration is obvious; why is that creature still hiding?

"That doesn't assure me. We need to escape the Saviour's control. Go back to the Red Zone." I shift slightly, keeping my chin in place, and staring once more into the garden. Leaves rustle. The fountain I'm sitting on gurgles behind me.

"He has a garden inside his castle," I drawl, pretending to be even slightly intrigued, "and this place is a lot more interesting than the Red Zone."

In the real world, the grass isn't so green anymore, the trees are dying, the sky is no longer blue, the sun has never looked so weak and far away, and no matter where you turn, you can always smell death in the air.

But even as rare as this garden is, Essy's right; I'd rather be in the Red Zone. At least there, I can rip apart and kill any creature that challenges me. At least when I'm drenched in chaos and sinking in depravity, I'm not so utterly bored.

"I don't like this, Haze. It'll take me a couple of weeks to remove the mark. Weeks, Haze! That alone should tell you how dangerous he is, and you want to explore his castle and anger him further!"

I sigh softly and close my eyes, slipping behind that mental block to face the creature inside me. It's always easy to find Essy; you simply look into the darkness, and she looks back.

Two bright, golden orbs glow faintly in the void, almost like a trick of the light, but I know better. There is no light in my head.

Her eyes are unnervingly steady, their glow cold and unnatural, like molten gold that never cools. I can't see the creature connected to those eyes; it's only a suggestion of movement, a faint ripple in the shadows that hints at something broken and fragile.

"It's a good thing I'm not here to please you, isn't it?" My words are cold and scathing. "You'll do as I say, nothing more and nothing less. If I want your fucking opinion, Essy, I'll ask for it."

"He's dangerous," Essy whispers, her voice shaking.

"What was that?" I raise a brow, daring her to repeat herself. "Do I need to put a fucking muzzle on that mouth of yours?" Essy whimpers as I perch low. I can hear her shuffling, moving further away from me. "Remember your place, Essy. The shadows were your idea, but I can take it away."

"I'm just looking out for you…"

My glare hardens. "I don't care how long it takes; just get it done and remove the mark. You have until the end of the month. Apparently, a General is coming for my blood, and I just happen to be in the mood to want to play with him."

My eyes drift open, and I take in the endless expanse of earth. At least that presence seems to have come closer while I dealt with Essy.

But now, they're both the last thing on my mind. The Saviour wants to make me a bodyguard—a protector. Me. He's certainly… different. Or incredibly stupid.

No. He's not stupid. He knows what he's done. He's aware of the consequences of bringing me into his home, his life, and enslaving me. He knows every step I take from this moment on will be to destroy him.

Does he know I don't need to go after him to hurt him?

The human he goes against his instincts for—she's the key. She'll be his downfall.

Reece Adams.

If I'm going to be forced to follow her, I can gather some information on them both. Seth didn't have much; not something useful enough to use against the Saviour.

And then there's the matter of her Nightwalker baby daddy. If I get rid of him too quickly, they won't need me around, and though I do have a death wish, I have no desire to go to my grave without punishing the Saviour for enslaving me.

I do admit, though, that it's the most fun I've had in years. So much so that I've hit pause on my death to enjoy it a little longer.

Besides, the Gods seem to actually care for this Savior. That much is obvious. I don't really care why, but it also seems like a perfect opportunity to stick it to them; I should take advantage of it.

There's a shift in the Aether; the creature watching me is fast. It's speed rivalling a Vampire.

"A new face," a deep voice muses. I blink and find myself staring into pitch-black eyes—deep, hungry and cold.

He is bent at the waist, his nose almost brushing mine. A slow smirk curls across his pale, almost porcelain face, revealing a glint of deadly sharp teeth.

"A pretty new face," he adds, his voice smooth as silk.

I half expected him to stay hidden. To continue to linger in the shadows, but he's here, out in the open, ready to be seen.

A black, forked tongue slithers out past his lips, slow and deliberate, tasting the air. His eyes rake over me. Not lustful, but curious, fascinated.

"That smell of yours," I murmur, inhaling his scent. "The taste of it; it's impossible to miss. I can’t quite place it. It's unlike anything I've experienced before and yet so familiar."

"And what is it?"

"Chaos." There's a pause. "It was playing with all my senses. But looking at you—a creature the embodiment of death—is the only word that comes to mind. You smell of chaos, Demon."

"You know my kind." He clasps his hands together, his smirk turning into a large grin.

"Not personally," I muse. "But Demons like the taste of hell far too much to leave it. Or perhaps…" I stare the Demon up and down. "They could taste the destruction his existence would create long before any of the so-called world leaders did."

His smirk falls. Hmm, perhaps I'm onto something?

"How do you think he captured my brothers?" the Demon says, his eyes sharpened on me. "They're drawn to death more than us."

"I know," I drawl, as if to prove his point. A coldness seeps into my retinas as if someone were sticking icicles into my eyes—an indication they're glowing gold. "Them I have met."

When he smiles, it's cold. He leans in close, snatches a lock of my white hair, and gently tugs on the strand. "Do you want to play a game?"

I slap his hand away. "That depends on the rules."

"Survive."

"That, I'm annoyingly good at."

The Demon pushes his scent out. His pheromones move through the air, making his scent even more potent as it moves towards me. My expression falls, and the Demon’s smile only widens as my skin heats up.

His scent touches me softly. It glides over my breast like a caress. It's almost inviting. But it pushes deeper, and my lungs tighten. It's inside me, pushing through tissue and bones and deeper still—but it's painless.

Something coils inside me—warm at first, then prickling like ice beneath my ribs.

Essy stiffens. I feel her moving, watching, stirring in the hollow of my bones.

Both eyes blink open within me—sharp, cold, not mine.

She's watching, trying to calculate, to survive.

Something is coming for her. No, not her.

She's just in the way. It's moving fast, and it's moving deep, deeper…

My soul. He wants my soul.

Essy snaps forward as the darkness inside threatens to explode out of me. He's heading into dangerous territory, trying to touch something that can never see daylight.

My mask falls, my eyes shine gold, and I shove the Demon. His body spins through the air, but he lands on his feet and races back towards me. I'm on my feet right when he reaches me.

Claws extended, eyes dark, teeth sharp. I snatch the Demon's hand, twist his arm behind his back, grab the back of his neck and slam his face into the dirt so violently, the ground beneath him cracks.

He growls, and I tilt my head. "You weren't trying to kill me just now."

"I'm pretty sure I was."

"If you were, you'd be dead," I say, matter-of-factly. I lean in close, my breath ghosting over his pointed ear. "See, I can sense the intent of death when it's aimed at me, and my body reacts on instinct." The Demon stiffens, and I smirk. "If you wanted me dead, Demon… you'd be dead."

He huffs out a soft laugh, his dark eyes sliding to mine. "You didn't kill hundreds of my brothers. I have no reason to kill you."

"So? I'm far from innocent, Demon," I muse. Surely, he doesn't think I'm not a threat. That would be stupid of him.

"And neither am I, nor is the King of this Castle." He grins. "Yet he's still the Hero, and I'm his companion. I kill those who wrong me and my family, because I can. As far as I know, you've done neither."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Fuck no." A calm washes over him, and a promise weaves into each letter of the word when he says, "But the day that I am will either be your doom or your salvation."

I smile. "Well, salvation's no fun. Give me doom."

"One day, then."

"When you're sure?"

"When I'm sure."

"Until then, you need to be punished." His brows draw together, obviously confused. Poor guy; he has no idea what I'm capable of and still dared to stand up to me.

Next time, he won't ever dare to push that scent inside me again. The fact that it was so unexpected is the only reason he'd been able to reach so far; I know better now.

I'm about to summon my magic to fuck up this Demon's head, and I know he can sense my dark intentions, because he stiffens. A Demon can't have any pretty memories. I wonder what'll happen when I push his darkness to the surface. The chaos that could follow could be disastrous—how exciting.

I'm just about to touch him, to call upon my power, to bring all those deliciously dark, chaotic memories to the surface and burn this whole garden to the ground, but an annoying little voice stops me.

"What are you doing?" I glance up into pale, narrowed eyes. The kid has his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at me. I scoff. Why is he acting like he can stop me?

"I'm punishing a naughty Demon." I ease back on my weight and tap the Demon on the head.

"Mammal is under Uncle Ri's protection," the kid snaps, as if that's meant to mean anything. Mammal groans beneath me.

"It's Mamm-ON. Mammon. Not Mammal!"

"Shush, Mammal, I'm trying to save your life."

Mammal growls, very clearly annoyed. I ignore him and turn back to the kid. "Well, hurry up then."

"What?" The kid looks at me, confused. I smirk.

"Save his life," I say, holding out my hand. The ink on my fingers glows green and captures his gaze. "If you can, that is."

"My mom is looking for you; she has to leave."

I scoff, unfazed, as my hand moves closer to the Demon. The kid's eyes widen briefly, and his arms fall to his side.

"Seems like I should hurry, then."

The kid leaps forward, and I snatch his hand before he can touch mine and whisper inches from him, "If you do that, Baby Flame, you'll develop amnesia so bad, shitting will be a foreign concept to you." I shove him back. "Try harder."

The kid stumbles back on his feet, his eyes glistening with frustrated tears. I can't help but stare at the sight. His eyes look almost silver when he's on the verge of tears—it's pretty. He grits out, "I'm not a Nightwalker."

"Ooh, denial—a girl's best friend," I muse, moving my hand closer to Mammal and only now noticing him struggling beneath me. I laugh.

"I'm not you!"

"Clearly."

"Let him go!"

"No."

My hand is inches from his temple, and just when I decide to stop playing around and punish the Demon, another familiar presence enters the pretty garden. I grit my teeth as the tingling sensation returns, and my limbs freeze up.

I glance over my shoulder and smile as if my limbs aren't locked in place, as if I'm not a prisoner inside my own skin with a single thought from my jailor. "Hello to you, too, Saviour."

Deep, crimson eyes narrow down on me. "Off. Now!"

I don't bother to fight. The Demon will be punished, as sure as I am that Riot will regret crossing me. My magic returns, my limbs unlock, and I pull away from the Demon and move past Riot without a backward glance.

A voice echoes in my head—cold and calculating. The only place I ever heard him was in my head, where he lives, even though I don't remember him. It's the only piece of my past that survived.

'Pick your battles, Little One. The war has only just begun.'

I know, Ricci.