Page 50 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

49

CRYPT

“Boo, tell Professor Popsicle that I need a turn,” Decimus huffs.

Ignoring the crippling pain in my joints and spine, I smoke reverium and watch Decimus and Frost say goodbye to Maven before dawn. The sky above is dark and starless above this courtyard where the greenhouse sits in peaceful silence.

Frost holds Maven even tighter, breathing out slowly as he tries to get a hold of himself. “Just another second. I just…I can’t yet.”

If it were Crane or myself hogging our keeper before this battle of all battles, I imagine Decimus would have already set us ablaze from sheer impatience. But Crane already said his goodbyes before he left with a group of Reformists to direct his Undead army—and the last time we were all in a battle together, Frost faced the brutal final moments with our dying keeper all on his own. We have a silent understanding that he gets a pass this time.

“We’ll meet up in the citadel,” Maven reminds the elemental, rubbing his back as his erratic breathing only worsens.

Our quintet will be separating at the beginning of the battle. I don’t envy the others the fact that they’ll set off with resurrected changelings that Crane ordered to imitate our keeper. Decimus is moving in at a northern angle with the Decimus family. Crane and his Undead army, along with all the ghosts Maven has summoned into this mortal realm, will move in from the south. All other Reformist troops have their orders to move in following the strategy Maven finalized with Brigid Decimus.

Maven and I will be passing through Limbo directly into the citadel. My obsession is dressed in simple black combat clothes, but the fact that they hug her delectable body has me constantly distracted.

I myself wear combat attire for once, but I also carry a simple, secured pouch. Within it is the jar that used to hold Maven’s heart. Now, it contains a dark, humming shadow heart. Crane spent hours crafting it yesterday before passing out from pure exhaustion.

Our mission is to get it inside Amadeus before killing him. I’ve overheard my darling obsession and Crane discussing the logicistics at length over the last few days to know that unlike Maven’s shadow heart that constantly revived her, this one is a temporary spell. A mere tool to give the immortal Entity a weakness.

“Okay, we have to change the plan,” Frost finally announces, still holding onto Maven as if he expects her to drift away any moment. “Crypt, you take a changeling. I can’t do this.”

Maven pulls away to look at him, and it’s obvious they’re having a telepathic exchange without the rest of us. I always dislike being on the outside of a conversation my muse is involved in, but finally, Frost takes a deep, grounding breath and releases her.

“Finally,” Decimus mutters, sweeping her into a tight hug next. “Gods, I’m going to be so fucking distracted worrying about you, Boo.”

“No distractions,” Maven corrects, kissing his cheek. “Remember the plan. We’ll check in with each other telepathically as much as we can.”

As if to underline her point, Crane’s voice echoes through the bond.

Your Undead army is officially on the move, ima thanafluir.

“That’s our cue, love,” I say, stepping on my cigarette to put it out as I reach for her.

“Wait,” Decimus protests. He inhales against her neck and kisses the mating mark he left there. “Just another minute.”

“Fucking hypocrite,” Frost grumbles.

Finally, Maven pulls away from her dragon shifter and steps toward me, slipping her gloved hand into mine. “All right. Let’s go kill the king of the Undead.”

It hurts like fucking hell to slip into Limbo this time around, but I don’t let it show. Maven doesn’t bother closing her eyes this time as I guide her swiftly through the shattered, distorted realm of dreams. I suppose now it makes sense that my darling was never affected by Limbo—after all, her mother is the goddess of dreams, whom all incubi tend to worship the most.

Not me, obviously. But then, my mother-in-law clearly isn’t keen on me, either.

Tell me you’re still okay, Frost demands through the bond not twenty minutes into our travel, which is greatly expedited through Limbo.

Why, I’m right as rain, but thanks ever so much for your concern, my snow-white dove, I reply saccharinely.

I can hear Decimus laughing through the bond because he appreciates humor, and Maven is smirking, but Frost just swears at me .

Maven?

I’m fine, she promises him. We’re almost to the citadel.

Decimus is surprised. Damn, that was fast. Flying through Limbo must be so fucking convenient.

You’re a godsdamned dragon, Crane reminds him. You can fly, too.

Sure, as a twenty-five-ton gleaming golden monster. Not super convenient when it comes to landing, believe it or not. Are you still alive, Boo?

For now.

She probably means that to be funny, but the rest of my quintet doesn’t like that reply at all. They remind her about context and “too soon” through the bond until we pass into the depths of the Nether. Here, Limbo is even more of a hazy mess that smells strongly of ozone as it seeps into this other, dimmer plane of existence. A few dim wisps float in the distance in every direction as my ragged dream world drifts more like a mist here.

Maven notices the difference and glances at me. “Limbo is different past the borders of the Nether.”

I nod, admiring the subtle cacophony of colors in her dark gaze. My markings light up again, and I try to keep the pain out of my voice.

“The domain of dreams only started seeping into the Nether over the last few months, when I let it fragment. Limbo mostly overlaps the mortal realm, but in areas like this where it stretches past the Divide, it gets far weaker and more difficult to traverse,” I explain.

Her brow furrows. “If it’s hurting you?—”

“Even if it were, I have you to kiss it all better,” I remind her, kissing her temple.

Wrapping my arm more securely around the most important person in my existence, I kick off the ground so we float quickly through what I assume are misshapen, ancient trees. According to the map Maven made, this is the twisted forest surrounding the outskirts of Amadeus’s arena and citadel. From her dreams, I know she grew up isolated in a small, austere hovel in a clearing near these woods. Only Lillian was permitted to visit the warded hovel so she could take care of Amadeus’s favored mortal child.

I’m certain those very memories are on Maven’s mind as she also studies the vague shapes of this forest through the foggy, deformed view of Limbo. The map she outlined mentioned all kinds of deadly things here. Bloodthirsty creatures. Poisonous bogs. Monster lairs.

Knowing she grew up in constant peril makes the aches in my dying bones even worse.

Maven? Crane’s voice checks in.

Still fine.

You don’t sound fine, Frost scowls. What’s wrong?

I know Amadeus’s kingdom the same way I know the exact weight and feel of Pierce in my hand, she muses through the bond, her arms circling around me more tightly. It’s just strange to be back.

Are you at the citadel now? Decimus asks.

We break out of the murky woods. All at once, I find that we’re gazing through the distortions of Limbo at an imposing wall and gates made of onyx. Several large adamantine spikes protrude from the ground surrounding the walls of the citadel, and hanging from them are disemboweled monsters rotting in the grayscale Nether. Beyond the gates, a massive temple-like structure rises over the inner ward of the Entity’s lifeless kingdom.

Now we are, Maven confirms, before taking a deep breath. Okay. After we get through this, I want ice cream.

I’ll buy you all the ice cream in the entire godsdamned world as long as you get back to me in one piece, Frost promises.

And I want more orgasms, she adds.

“It would be my pleasure,” I grin.

Decimus groans through the bond. Since I give you way more orgasms than the others combined, leave it to me, Mayflower.

None of us fault your lizard brain for your inability to count, but I’m clearly in the lead when it comes to giving our keeper pleasure, Crane argues.

Smirking at their continued argument in the background of our bond, Maven glances at me and switches to speaking aloud. “Ready?”

“Lead the way, love.”

She takes my hand and pulls me through the warped kaleidoscope of oddity that is Limbo until we reach a new section of the walls surrounding the citadel. It looks exactly the same to me as the rest of the outside, but my darling obsession spent most of her life in the Nether and knows the exact place to pass through the onyx.

We wind up inside a dark hallway beside ancient stone spiral steps. Maven grips my hand tightly as we take those steps, descending deep into abysmal darkness.

“Where are we?” I whisper, irritated that the darkness is prevalent enough to almost obscure my beautiful obsession from my incubus night vision. Having her out of my sight for even a moment is intolerable.

“This leads down and connects with the citadel’s catacombs,” Maven mutters. “Anytime they find a human who has manifested magic, or any other abnormality among the living that Amadeus wants to study or let his necromancers toy with, they’re chained down here until they’re either turned into a lich or tossed into the arena.”

“Delightful. But why are we going there, darling?”

“There’s an old, forgotten stairwell in one of the cells that connects to a hallway that will bring us close enough to Amadeus’s chambers that we may be able to sneak in from there. If he’s not in his chambers, we’ll check the arena.”

I hesitate. “And if he sees us coming?”

“Right now, Amadeus will be enduring a barrage of visions about an impending attack, including a dozen of my lookalikes to confuse him. He can prepare for some things he sees, but not everything. Predicting the future isn’t truly possible until it’s moments away,” she adds. “By then, the attack will be here and I’ll have this heart in his skeletal chest.”

We finally reach the bottom of the spiral stone steps, and now I can just make out a system of surprisingly ornate tunnels, thanks to the flicker of a small green torch on one wall. As we pass it, I notice the runes etched into the stone walls.

“That’s fae, isn’t it?”

“This all used to belong to the fae thousands of years ago, before Amadeus drove them out and took over. Felix used to tell me about the knowledge all?—”

Whatever she was about to say, she cuts off as Crane speaks telepathically.

The Undead have breached the Nether, and your ghosts are well ahead of them, sangfluir. That blue-haired one appeared to be leading them, but I lost track.

The Decimus clan is officially flying over the citadel, Decimus adds. Please tell me you’re somewhere safe so we can light this fucking place up.

Do it, Maven agrees.

Deep in these catacombs and inside Limbo, I hear nothing of the outside world, but something must happen because a startled voice yelps from somewhere in these dark tunnels.

“W—what’s going on up there?” a terrified man asks, his voice wavering as if he’s about to burst into tears.

My markings light up again, and a shock of pain courses over my system so quickly that I nearly black out as I collapse. Agony pulses through me, my skin burning as more of my markings vanish from my body. I can hear Maven’s worry and feel her cradling my head in her lap again, but it takes a moment for my ears to function fully again as the pain lessens once again.

It’s then that I realize I dragged us out of Limbo.

“Crypt?” my darling whispers, her cool hand brushing against my forehead.

I realize she’s so cool to the touch because I’m burning up. That can’t be good.

Nevertheless, I smile up at her. “Is it a demigoddess trait to look mouthwatering at every angle, or is that just you?”

She huffs at my attempt to brush off the fact that I just collapsed, but someone else speaks in the tunnel.

“Who’s there?” a raspy older woman’s voice asks, every bit as frightened as the old man.

Other voices mutter and whisper, terrified in this darkness. Maven holds up a hand, whispers a word I’ve never heard, and holy light swirls around her hand, illuminating this space.

More gasps sound. Wide-eyed, gaunt faces of chained-up Nether humans stare back at us in abject terror—but my interest is piqued by a quiet whimper in one of the adjoining tunnels.

“Y—you’re Maven Oakley,” one of the chained-up tributes chokes nearby, his bloodshot eyes so big and wide on his gaunt face that they look chilling. “The telum! You’re supposed to be dead?—”

“If you value your life and freedom, you’ll stop talking,” I warn as we get to our feet. Stepping over an old skeleton, I guide my keeper to turn down into the tunnel where I heard the whimper.

The moment Maven’s light falls upon the young woman curled in on herself in a cold stone corner, I halt.

“That’s Frost’s sister.”

Maven inhales sharply, realizing I’m right. She darts forward to crouch beside the empath, using her magic to illuminate the girl better.

Frost’s sister is wearing jeans and a jacket that are badly stained and ripped. Her butterscotch-colored hair is a mess. Like the other living people in these tunnels, her wrists and ankles are bound tightly together in rusty shackles. I can hear the poor girl quietly sobbing, but when Maven gently shakes her shoulder, she makes no reply.

“Heidi?” Maven whispers.

Something high above these catacombs explodes, and the ground around us trembles. When the people in the other hallway cry out in fear, Heidi sobs and curls in on herself more.

“Shit.” My keeper glances at me. “Without the charm that keeps her from feeling what everyone around her is feeling all the time, she’s going through an empathic overload. We have to…” She trails off with a slight frown. “You recognized her. Have you met her before?”

“Once, as children.”

She lets her curiosity go in favor of the here and now. “Can you get her and the others out of their chains? We need to set them free and get them to safety before all hell breaks loose out there.”

“Right away, darling,” I reply as cheerfully as I can before dropping back into Limbo so she won’t witness more of the searing agony.