Page 48 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

47

SILAS

In the three days that have passed since the wraiths attacked the cultist temple, my quintet and I have done everything we can to comfort our keeper. The trouble is, Maven refuses to linger on her loss.

She was careful not to shed a tear at Lilian’s simple burial service the morning after the attack. Everett crafted an elegant nevermelt headstone for Lillian, which now sits beside Maven’s in Everbound’s largest greenhouse. The snowdrop flowers in there bloomed contentedly under Asher Douglas’s common magic spell as our quintet, the Baird quintet, Douglas, and a few other Reformists paid respect to the kind-hearted human who raised my keeper.

Maven left a colorful box of Crayons and a photograph of a young girl at Lillian’s honorary grave. She hasn’t shed another tear in front of us or anyone else. Even when our keeper told us about her experience in the vestibule to the Beyond, she kept it brief and then moved on with her careful planning of how we will take down Amadeus.

She’s a force of nature—but all four of us know she’s still in mourning.

I sit on the edge of the bed, watching my blood blossom as she sleeps deeply in Baelfire’s arms. Dawn is lacing its way into the dark sky outside our quintet apartment’s primary bedroom. It’s changed to summertime temperatures over the last few days, so I can see the starts of blooming plants far below. The natural world is finally returning to normal after Everett’s perpetual cold snap.

Unfortunately, the improved weather has only encouraged the campers outside to remain here. Even despite the recent wraith attack in the forest, the refugees, Nether humans, cultists, and others are undeterred. They believe their presence shows support for “Maven Oakley.”

She’s been too busy plotting and giving instructions to the Reformist leaders to spare the lingerers any notice. To say that we’ve been busy is an understatement, but my blood blossom still hasn’t shared the entirety of her plan with us.

I watch as Maven finally grows overheated in Baelfire’s extra warm embrace. The big lug is passed out so hard that he doesn’t even stir when our fucking adorable half-asleep keeper detangles herself from his arms and scoots closer to Everett. The ice elemental instinctively pulls her against his bare, scarred chest. Cooled off at once, she relaxes back into rest.

I sense Crypt nearby a moment before he materializes beside me. He wordlessly hands me an empty syringe—one of several I’ve spent the last couple of days tinkering with in an attempt to find a reverium concoction to allay his curse.

“Well?” I check, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Maven.

He answers by removing his leather jacket and holding out one of his arms. The swirling light and dark markings on it light up in an angry pattern. But then again, very few markings remain at all.

Godsdamn it.

Shelving that frustration for later, I glance back at our keeper and focus on the much bigger issue we’ve all been contemplating for the last few days.

“Within her subconscious, have you seen anything yet of the blood oath she made to Arati?”

He shakes his head, his violet gaze serious as he slips back into the ripped leather. “I’ve seen far too much of her bleeding golden ichor in Paradise, but nothing about that fucking oath.”

Baelfire rolls over to squint at Crypt. I’m not surprised our lowered voices woke up the shifter with his keen hearing.

“Wait. Why the hell was she bleeding so much?” he asks, his voice quiet and groggy.

The Nightmare Prince is thoughtful. “The why is still a missing puzzle piece, much like her mysterious, soul-binding oath. Right, love?”

I thought she was still asleep, but Maven sits up and yawns. I don’t bother trying to hide my sigh when she pulls the sheets up to cover her delicious nakedness—a reminder of the heated adoration we lavished her with most of the night. Instead of addressing the topic at hand, my ever-unexpected, beautiful keeper instead glances at the window.

“The demons will arrive this morning,” she says as if she’s announcing she likes cheese.

Everett is immediately awake, bolting upright to frown sleepily at her. The elemental is always testy, but especially first thing in the morning. “What?”

“I needed them to supply the final part of the plan.”

Ah, yes. Her plan.

Much of yesterday was spent watching Maven go over attack strategies with the other Reformist leaders. Many troops not fully utilized elsewhere on the front lines have mobilized outside of Halfton as we prepare for the attack. Aside from the mass attack strategy, all I’ve gathered of Maven’s plan so far is that she intends to use ghosts to boost our numbers.

I intend to do the same with Undead.

After all, as a necromancer, why shouldn’t I take advantage of the dark arts for our benefit? For the last three days, I scouted out countless places of death around Everbound as I’ve prepared to raise a large number of reanimated beings. Others may object, but I know my blood blossom will understand the practicality of such measures, once I tell her.

Better to tell her now, since the attack is planned to take place in two days.

“About this plan—” I begin.

“He’s right, we absolutely can’t rely on demons,” Everett huffs, getting out of bed to search for those foolish silk pajamas on the floor.

I frown. “That’s not what I was?—”

“Hold up, what exactly are those demonic fuckers supplying?” Baelfire asks Maven, confused.

My blood blossom gets out of bed, too. I forget whatever I was about to say as she stretches slightly, showing off her beautifully strong, nude body. Crypt hums in approval beside me, and Baelfire sits up to see her better. Everett looks like he’s forgotten that he was searching for clothes as he stares at her.

“Information and changelings,” she answers.

When Maven brushes her dark hair out of her face, my attention drifts to her mouthwatering neck as I?—

Wait.

“Changelings?” I repeat, certain I heard her incorrectly.

Maven nods and tells us the rest of her plan in brief, simplified terms. When she’s finished, we all gawk at her, and not just because every move she makes is so enchanting as she begins searching through the discarded clothing that we practically ripped off of her last night.

It’s a damn good plan.

“So that’s why you opted to spare the changeling the cultists captured,” I realize.

“Will that even work on changelings?” Baelfire asks, fascinated.

“We’ll find out today,” she says, searching in her discarded hoodie. “If not, I’ve thought of several ways to bribe them, if they choose to cooperate instead. That wouldn’t be a surprise, since like most creatures in the Nether, they hate Amadeus so much that?—”

She cuts off as she grips Cuttrina within her hoodie. As soon as Everett realizes she’s in another memory trance, he scoops her up and sits on the edge of the bed to hold her. As we wait for her to come to, Crypt chuckles despite his glowing markings.

“An army of Mavens to confuse the Entity’s visions of the battle. What a clever goddess we have.”

“She’s flawlessly vicious,” I agree.

“As long as you don’t fuck up making the heart and getting it into Amadeus’s chest, I think this might actually work,” Baelfire grins.

Everett studies Maven’s face as she gazes out at nothing, recalling something from Paradise. “Her plan is great, except it separates some of us from her during the beginning of the battle.”

“Amadeus would expect her to remain close to her quintet members,” I point out. “She’s right to pair us up with changelings until enough chaos has been sewn to further throw off his tactics.”

“And only one of us is actually with her, because only one of us can fuck around in Limbo undetected,” Baelfire grumbles, glaring at Crypt. “Lucky fucking bastard.”

The incubus surprises us all by slumping to the bed and grimacing in pain as his markings light up more. “How lucky can a dying man be?”

We’re all quiet at that.

Finally, Maven blinks and looks around, disoriented to find herself in Everett’s arms.

“Anything about that blood oath you made?” Everett asks, voice tight with tension.

“No. That was just a memory of the time I showed up naked to ruin one of Arati’s fancy formal dinners so she would be pissed off enough to kick me out of Paradise,” she sighs, as frustrated as the rest of us about her unknown oath.

“You what?” Baelfire coughs.

“It’s fine. She got over it eventually,” our keeper mutters, getting out of Everett’s arms to make her way toward the bathroom. She smirks at us over one bare shoulder. “Get dressed. I don’t want Eisha drooling over what’s mine any more than she has in the past.”

Everett scowls at our keeper’s use of the demon’s name before the bathroom door closes behind her. The rest of us get ready quickly. Fifteen minutes later, our quintet makes its way through Everbound Castle toward the eastern exit. No matter how useful they are, there’s no way in hell we’re about to give the demons access inside the protective wards.

I almost walk right through the blue-haired ghost when she pops up from the ground. Stepping around the dead tribute, I notice even more ghosts have accumulated to haunt this castle as they await whatever my blood blossom has in mind for them.

Remember, Maven reminds us through the bond as we approach the arched doorway. We want to try diplomacy with the changelings before resorting to anything extreme. They’re unfeeling creatures that will swap loyalties in an instant if we offer something they really want. Mortal money, safety, shit like that.

We nod, and Baelfire pushes open the big eastern door, leaving us all blinking at…a pile of dead changelings.

“There she is!” Eisha booms, gesturing happily at the pile of dead creatures as the demons around her applaud. “We come bearing gifts!”

“So much for diplomacy,” Everett scoffs quietly, stepping slightly in front of Maven as if to keep her out of these infernal beings’ sight.

As always, being in the presence of demons is unpleasant. There are almost a dozen here with Eisha and that simpering demon boyfriend of hers—the one Crypt is glowering at like he still wants to rip the demon’s horns off. The other demons have apparently foregone the effort to blend in with humans since the Upheaval, and now their horns, tails, pointed teeth, and inky black eyes are on full display as they stare at Maven with fascination.

The one good thing about their presence is that it has driven back all of the other campers on this side of Everbound Castle. Only a few of them linger nearby, watching this interaction.

One of the male demons standing near Eisha lifts his chin. His nostrils flare before his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck me. Who knew a bloody demigoddess would smell so damned delicious? Wanna lick her all over and take a bite right outta that pretty, holy hide,” he groans.

Maven’s composure remains intact, but anger and disgust send magic surging to my blackened fingertips.

Before I can punish the demon for speaking that way about my keeper, Everett lifts his hand and impales the demon on a massive spike of ice jutting from the ground. The other demons shriek and leap away, looking far less worried about their writhing, dying comrade than they are about their own safety.

“Mind your forked tongues when speaking to or about my keeper, or you’ll get worse,” he warns, glaring at the infernal gathering.

Eisha’s boyfriend—Melchom, I believe—takes a good look at the elemental and bursts into laughter. “Well, peg me with a pitchfork and call me a kebab! Looks like all those rumors about the scarred pretty boy are true. I heard you froze a bunch of deserters from the waist down on the front lines so your troops could hear what cowards sound like when they’re getting devoured by shadow fiends. I bet the screaming was fucking fantastic—almost makes me wish I was there to see those cowardly fuckers humiliated before their upper halves were gobbled up.

Maven glances curiously at Everett, as do I and the rest of my quintet, because that punishment is surprisingly impressive. He continues to glower at the demons but responds to our stares through the bond.

They weren’t just deserters. They were legacies who sat back and watched dozens of humans in their troop get slaughtered in a surge at the front lines. When I asked how they all survived when the humans didn’t, they made jokes about how weak humans are in comparison to ‘our kind.’ I had enough shit to handle without adding politically prejudiced assholes to the mix, so I made an example out of them.

Good, Maven nods.

Eisha scoffs and looks at Melchom, unaware of my quintet’s telepathic communication. “I kinda wish you were there, too—you could’ve joined the wimps and only the half of you I like would be preserved in ice.”

“Loose-ass bitch,,” the demon scowls at her.

“Cuntfaced, microdicked manwhore,” she shoots back before shoving him out of the way.

All this flirting is making me sick, Maven huffs through the bond.

Bael frowns. Um…are we hearing the same things, Boo? They fucking hate each other’s guts.

Demons flirt through insults. It’s a turn-on for them.

Baelfire does a double-take at the demons, obviously seeing their past interactions in a new light. I didn’t know that about demons, either, but that does explain why Melchom is not so subtly adjusting himself as he checks out his girlfriend’s ass.

The demoness focuses on Maven again, grinning with sharp teeth. “So! What d’you think of the haul? Took a couple of days to hunt down all these little fuckheads, but sure as sin, there should be a dozen or so here for you.”

Maven glances at the pile of dead changelings. “I said to bring them alive.”

“Did you? Damn! That communication spell you sent to us was fucking hard to hear through clearly,” Eisha sighs. “Oh, well. I’ll send these idiots to go round up some more.”

“Don’t,” my keeper decides, glancing at me briefly to say we’re moving on to her more extreme yet reliable version of the plan. “We’ll make it work.”

Eisha notices Maven’s glance at me, and her black eyes widen before she bursts into laughter. “Fucking hell, I forgot how ballsy you are! I got the feeling you’d pop back into the mortal world, telum. It’s not like that mother of yours would’ve really taken you to the Beyond, even if she is the crypt keeper.”

Actually, I’m the Crypt keeper, Maven corrects smoothly through the bond, glancing back at the Nightmare Prince.

Crypt grins. That you are, love. Well played.

Baelfire laughs at her wordplay, drawing confused looks from some of the demons as Everett shakes his head, also smiling.

Maven looks back at Eisha. “Now for the information.”

The demoness grimaces, stepping away from the other demons to lower her voice so this is a more private conversation. “Right, that. I managed to get Mel’s twin cousins to squeal, but even they don’t know much shit about that vamp.”

“A vampire?” I frown, looking at Maven. “What vampire?”

Bertram, Everett realizes through the bond. He’s the one who killed Engela. My parents were using him to communicate with the Entity before he disappeared.

Baelfire growls. “Then Bertram’s the jackass we’re going to burn to a fucking crisp.”

“Cool your jets, dragon boy,” Eisha chuckles, reaching up to scratch near one of her horns. “That vamp’s a real sticky one. From what I’ve gathered, he’s popped in and out of the mortal realm for centuries, doing the Entity’s bidding or just stirring up shit. He’s crazy good with hypnotism—almost undetectable. Rumor is, he even got inside Zuma’s head a long time ago.”

Maven considers that. “If he could hypnotize a member of the Immortal Quintet, he would have had no trouble hypnotizing someone in the Sanctuary to let himself and Engela out of it.”

The idea of a vampire’s abilities being strong enough to overcome the significant protective charms that most of my old mentor’s acolytes wear is concerning.

“Where exactly is this vampire now?” Crypt demands, vengeance written all over his features as his remaining markings light up.

Eisha shrugs. “Couldn’t track him. My guess is somewhere back in that fucking citadel, but who knows? Anyway, your demigoddess said the changelings were the bigger priority.” She kicks one of the corpses aside. “Hope these fuckheads help, but we’re gonna bounce before any Reformists attack us. And you know, Mav?—”

“Don’t say my name,” my keeper warns, her expression enough to make several demons move further away.

I adore how frightening she is when she chooses to be.

It’s also wise of her to keep any of these infernal beings from saying her name in her presence. From my studies of banned demonology spellbooks within the Garnet Wizard’s library long ago, I found that demonology relies heavily on namesaying. Quite a few of their spells begin with a name and end with soul scrying, claiming an eternal debt, striking an infernal deal, or worse.

Even if these demons support Maven, it’s best not to trust them.

Eisha snorts. “Right, well— Syntyche’s daughter, then. Maybe if you survive whatever shitshow comes next, you ought to consider putting an end to all the demon hunting that goes on in the mortal realm. We may not mix well with humans, and maybe we have different hobbies?—”

“Morals don’t exist to demons. You also enjoy cheating, stealing, and watching the innocent suffer,” Maven clarifies.

“Like I said, different hobbies. Doesn’t mean we need to be exterminated,” the demoness shrugs before she looks at the other demons. “Hey. We did what we came here to do. Get a move on. You too, you pathetic little fucknugget,” she adds, flipping off her demonic boyfriend.

Melchom says something back to her in the Nether tongue that I can’t quite translate, but it’s insulting enough that the demoness grins. The other demons amble away from the side of the castle. Eisha says farewell to Maven before following them, clearly enjoying the disgusted and disturbed looks they’re earning from the other onlookers.

My keeper’s attention moves to the dead changelings. “How disturbed do you think Asher Douglas will be if we ask him to move the bodies to the dungeon?”

“Extremely,” I decide.

She smiles. “Excellent.”