Page 27 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

26

BAELFIRE-

My dragon likes all the screaming.

He also likes chewing on his stupid fucking leash, which means that from the corner of our dark, shared mind where I barely manage to exist, all I get is a vague view of this moron chewing on leather.

Hey, Scales for Brains. Where the hell is Maven? I try to demand.

He ignores me easily.

Ever since my mate’s scent started to make its way to me through the control of my dragon, she’s all I can think about—besides trying to fight for dominance in my own head. But according to everything Everett told me earlier, that’s been a losing battle for six months.

Six whole motherfucking months without her.

I push against my inner dragon, desperate to take over so I can look around for my mate and figure out what just happened to start all the screaming. I see some of what my dragon sees, but he sucks at paying attention to details. And his listening skills? Forget it.

The one and only thing I can thank the scaly alphahole for is his unique ability to sense Maven, no matter the distance. It’s something to do with us being marked as mates, but only he picks up on it. Not to mention, it must not be a perfect skill, because the big scaly pain in my ass went and sniffed around an abandoned temple for hours on end before he went to hunt for Maven days ago.

Despite my inability to see or sense much trapped in my own head like this, I can still identify a barrage of smells. Gasoline. Smoke. Blood.

But most of all, the sour smell of fear, so fucking thick and powerful that it makes me think I’m missing something big.

Someone screams loudly in terror nearby before their pleas cut off.

“T—they’re all ghosts!” another legacy shouts. “No! Mercy! Please, have mer?—”

His voice cuts off as birds shriek somewhere nearby.

Ghosts? Are we in danger again?

Shit—is she in danger?

Godsdamn it, I need control. I need to get to her.

My dragon is suddenly restless and angry about something, but I can’t get a fucking grip or sense anything happening in my own body until something slams into my head. I topple, pain rocking down my neck and spine as the world spins.

Just like that, the dragon retreats to hide from the pain that it can’t shift to tolerate. I wrench back control and sit up, blinking at the chaos surrounding me. It looks like I was hit in the head by a chunk of Crypt’s bronze enclosure that somehow shattered, but besides that…

Holy fucking fuck.

There are ravens and ghosts everywhere—at least, I’m pretty damn sure they’re ghosts because they hover and fly around, are slightly see-through, and make my hair stand on end. But they’re also able to touch the legacies who are screaming and trying to get away.

Some of the ghosts disappear into the bodies of elite legacies, who immediately fall to the street to writhe in agony with foaming mouths. Other ghosts taunt the people trying to flee, pulling them in strange directions, dancing creepily around them, or lifting them off the ground to drop them from high enough to break their legs.

I realize most of the elite fuckers can’t see where to run because they don’t have eyeballs anymore. Gawking, I watch a big raven attack the face of one of Everett’s other snobby parents, pecking at his eyes as the well-dressed air elemental screams and thrashes, gusts of wind exploding uselessly from his hands.

Royal blue flames are devouring two huge wooden stakes nearby, proof that my dragon got involved. I get to my feet, turning and searching as my heart pounds—until I spot Maven and immediately break into a smile.

Hell, yes. That’s my mate.

Tearing her way through the screaming legacies, my violent, sexy keeper looks every bit the daughter of Death as she reaps souls left and right. She’s a fucking force of nature, with that spine-chilling smile on her beautiful face as ghosts and fluttering ravens surround her.

When a wolf shifter snarls and leaps at her, she gracefully dodges aside before her scythe cuts him clean in half. A magic attack is flung at her from some other panicked elite, but it bounces harmlessly off her when she bats it away with a softly glowing hand. She turns to swing her scythe again, moving like she’s dancing as she and her otherworldly army slaughter everyone who hasn’t managed to escape.

I’m ready to help my dark queen kick ass and take names in this black-and-white city all day, but I notice Silas sitting nearby, soaked with gasoline as he rocks himself, red magic hovering around his fingertips. One of his eyes twitches as blood drips steadily from his nose.

I glance at Maven demolishing our enemies with gleeful fury, then back at this fae, torn.

Finally, I sigh. Damn it. He needs to snap out of this.

I move toward him, lifting my hands to show I’m not a threat, even though my head is starting to split as the dragon inside me writhes.

“Si. Hey, buddy. You in there?”

He startles and scrambles away from me. “Nach ti’faieth!”

“Gesundheit.” I crouch beside him, grabbing his blackened-finger hands to stop him before he can fling magic at me. “You’ve gotta stop. Your nose is bleeding again.”

Silas blinks at me several times before seeming to focus. A particularly shrill scream sounds nearby, drawing our attention to the chaos.

All the cameras have been destroyed. Several elite legacies are now fighting each other, which is odd until Crypt appears from Limbo, literally skipping as he enjoys the bloodbath. He kicks aside two shredded corpses, grins maniacally over at us, and triumphantly holds up…fingers.

A whole bundle of them.

Then he vanishes into Limbo again. Fucking psychopath.

“That’s…real?” Silas checks, his voice slurring.

“The ghosts and birds and our stone-cold, badass demigoddess? You bet.”

“Do demigoddesses berserk?” he frowns. “Should we be concerned?”

Hell if I know, but it’s weird that he’s the one asking me questions. My annoyingly smart quintet member clearly doesn’t trust his own brain right now, if he thinks I have a clue what’s going on.

My head pangs. I grimace through the dragon pushing for dominance before I clear my throat. “Nah, I’m pretty sure she’s just really fucking mad about…something. Can’t remember. When did we move outside, anyway?”

Silas doesn’t notice my question as he squints at a puddle of blood nearby. “What about them?”

“Them, who?”

“The bloated faces in the blood. Are they real?”

“Nope, that’s all in your creepy-ass brain. Come on.”

I help him stand, trying not to wrinkle my sensitive nose at the overpowering smell of gasoline covering him. His breathing is rapid and he starts muttering fae shit I don’t understand under his breath as we make our way through the aftermath of Maven’s massacre.

Crypt finally steps out of Limbo to rejoin us, looking like he’s having the time of his life as he rearranges his macabre bouquet. “Are we off to find wherever they have Frost next?”

I do a quick scan of our surroundings. Ghosts have slowly been vanishing, ravens are picking at the dead bodies, and the screaming has all but stopped. Maven stands perfectly still in the streets running with the blood of our enemies, her scythe in hand as she seems lost in thought—no, it must be memories. Everett mentioned that she’s slowly remembering her time in Paradise.

But Crypt is right. Our elemental is nowhere to be seen, even though I spot a couple of the elite legacies in his parents’ quintet lying motionless in their designer clothes nearby.

“Guess so,” I grunt.

Just as we approach Maven, Crypt collapses onto the cold street. Silas and I both startle when the incubus gasps in pain, face contorting as all of his markings light up brightly several times in a row, like a warning.

I’ve never seen Crypt so obviously affected by his curse, but Silas and I exchange a look. He must realize what I’m also putting together: the fun little fact that the Nightmare Prince’s curse can’t be broken and is obviously worse than ever. Like all stewards of Limbo, his curse is slowly killing him.

Or maybe not so slowly, judging by the agony he’s clearly in.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“ Shit, ” Silas agrees before flinching away from nothing and swearing in fae. “That not ever as how the leprechaun use is to spirits. Daingeath, singing head devils.”

Yeah, never mind. He can’t even string a sentence together.

I’m on my own here.

Seeing that Maven is still in her trance, I stoop to talk to Crypt. “Where can we get reverium for you?”

“Up your scaly ass,” he snaps before grimacing again. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you look fine,” I retort.

The pain on his face slowly subsides until he takes a shaky breath, glowering at the stormy sky above as the burning stakes cast a blue glow on this gruesome setting. “Neither of you will breathe a word about this to our girl.”

I scowl, gripping his arm to haul him to his feet. That makes him accidentally drop a finger, which he quickly retrieves like he’s just picking up loose change as I gripe at him.

“Fuck that. Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t want to keep secrets from her?”

“Shove off, Decimus.”

“No. I’m telling Maven?—”

He straightens to level me with a violet glare as ravens squawk and flutter nearby. “Telling our keeper that while she was stuck in Paradise sacrificing gods-know-what to get back to us, I was doing my damned best to snuff out through my curse requires a tact you’ve never possessed, you fucking lizard.”

It takes a second for that to sink in, and…

I kind of get it.

But I’m also beyond pissed. “If you’re on death’s doorstep, she has the right to know?—”

“I know.”

We all pause, realizing that Maven is now watching us. Her dark gaze is steady, her dark hair a mess, and the straitjacket those assholes put her in is ripped and stained with blood—but gods, my mate is so strong and beautiful that it’s hard to breathe. Her scythe transforms into a clear dagger she stashes in her boot, which leaves me blinking in surprise.

Crypt swallows. His markings light up again. “Forgive me, darling.”

She gives him a hard look that is definitely a no , not bothering to hide the emotions warring under her surface. Gods, I want to pull her into a hug and promise that we’ll figure out how to keep her creepy incubus, but she quickly turns and strides toward the Frost tower.

“I’ll find a way to fix it. Come on.”

The three of us follow her toward the revolving doors, with Silas talking to the voices in his head.

My inner dragon abruptly wrenches back control, shoving me back into the tiny corner in my head as I black out and he takes over.

It’s so fucking disorienting every time.

I finally come to and try to get my bearings, but all I can figure out is that we’re indoors. It still smells like gasoline, so I must still be near Silas and Maven.

Where is she? I demand.

Covet. Taste, my dragon growls back, senseless and feral as fuck.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Maven says from somewhere nearby.

Hurt me, I try to insist, needing that pain to get control back.

I have no control over my body, so I can’t get the words out. Fuck, I miss our telepathic connection. If anything, I could’ve asked Silas or Crypt or Everett to whack me upside the head to snap me out of it, and they would’ve been all too ready to volunteer. Probably would’ve argued for who had the honor.

I pick up on the sharp scent of fear again before a woman speaks.

“Oh my gods, y—you’re a…a?—“

“She’s a breathtaking demigoddess,” Crypt supplies from close beside me.

The woman hiccups. “But you just killed all those l—legacies and…”

“Reagan. Focus. Is Everett still on the top floor?” my mate asks, gentle but firm.

“In the penthouse,” the woman agrees, sounding terrified.

Someone pulls hard on the leash around my neck. I sense my dragon’s irritation before the taste of blood fills my mouth, telling me the asshole just bit someone really fucking hard. Crypt swears viciously, but when Maven starts to say something, his voice is all reassurance.

“Don’t worry yourself, love. It’s not the first time this feral tosser’s taken a bite out of me. Better to get Frost back before the new wisps you just introduced to Limbo break free.”