Page 51 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

50

MAVEN

Where are you? Everett demands telepathically, worry saturating his voice.

Now probably isn’t the right moment to tell him I’m trying to get a response out of his unconscious sister, who he thought was dead, while a bunch of ghosts watch.

I’m in the catacombs, I reply.

Crypt and I won’t stay here long. I doubt Amadeus is near his chambers now that the attack’s begun. That’s fine. It may even be easier to track him down in a fight.

The important thing is getting these living survivors out of here, especially Heidi.

Cautiously, I lift my glowing hand to see if my match’s sister is hurt anywhere, but my attention is momentarily arrested by her face. She must have been wearing makeup in that picture of her I saw at Everbound, because now I can make out a pink port wine stain birthmark covering one of her cheekbones and ears, just under her right eye, all the way down to her upper lip.

So this is why her bitch of a mother made that comment about her children being disfigured.

What a fucking idiot. If anything, it makes Heidi’s soft, pretty face far more interesting. She doesn’t look much like Everett, aside from her nose. After another moment of examining her, I decide she’s been incarcerated and in hell for too long, but otherwise, she’s unharmed.

Somewhere in the tunnels behind me, I hear chains clinking as Crypt frees the others. The ghosts drifting through these catacombs whisper and hiss unintelligibly.

“Heidi?” I whisper again.

No response.

Motherfucker, Baelfire swears through the bond about something I can’t see.

I tense, all kinds of horrible possibilities for his alarm crossing my mind. Bael?

Aww. You almost never call me that. That’s so fucking cute. I can’t wait to hear you moan it next.

Never mind. If he can flirt, he’s fine.

Your multifaceted plans to throw off the Entity’s future sight appear to be working, sangfluir, Silas says next. His forces are scrambling. We have the edge right now.

It’s a damn good thing we’re bringing so many Undead on our side to this shitshow, Everett muses through the bond. There are a lot of shadow fiends and old-world monsters out there.

A regular ‘thank you for being the best of us’ will suffice, Silas says smugly. Then he swears. Baelfire, remind your draconic brother not to set our Undead army ablaze. Everett, let the other Reformists know we’ll converge soon at the—gods above, is that the arena? It’s fucking massive.

Baelfire laughs. That’s what Maven said the first time she saw my ? —

Shut up, lizard, Everett sighs.

I take their back-and-forth that to mean that the Reformist attack is in full swing above us. Now is the time to target Amadeus early on, before the tide can turn toward either side in this battle and while we still have the advantage of his visions being skewed from all the possibilities.

Everett’s sister is still unresponsive as she silently cries, too overwhelmed and paralyzed by the emotions of everyone nearby to move. Honestly, however long she’s been here, I’m shocked she’s still alive. Whatever Everett may think about his sister’s ability to fight, she has to be strong in her own way to endure this.

“Ready, darling?” Crypt asks, slipping back into the catacomb tunnel behind me. His attention drops to the incapacitated empath. “I can carry her out with the others through Limbo. The dream realm is so thinned and damaged in the Nether, I doubt it will warp anyone’s mind.”

I trust his judgment there. Since we need to get these people out of here as soon as fucking possible before I track down Amadeus in the chaos above, I nod. Crypt reaches down with a stolen key to unlock the shackles on Heidi’s wrists. As he does, his fingers brush her arm.

“Fucking hell, ” Crypt hisses, yanking back immediately. His markings light up as his face contorts in pain. “Don’t touch her, love. Whatever emotions and pain she’s experiencing from this area of the Nether, she seems to be conducting, as well.”

Another explosion up above sends dust sprinkling from the catacomb ceiling above. Swearing, I look back at Heidi. She’s in pain, and she can’t be left here.

As if the universe is giving me a break for once, the blue-haired young woman ghost appears in front of Crypt and me, popping out of one of the catacomb walls. She immediately crouches to check on Heidi, looking concerned as she peers up at me.

She gestures to herself, then to Heidi, and mouths, Best friends.

“Oh, shit,” I realize aloud.

This girl was friends with Heidi before she died here. If she was Heidi’s best friend, it’s no wonder she was also particularly pissed off at Daphne Frost.

“I’m missing a ghostly interaction, aren’t I?” Crypt guesses.

I glance at Heidi again as I debate how to get her out of here. Then it hits me, and I turn toward my incubus. “Put her to sleep. She’s stuck in an empathic meltdown right now, but she won’t feel as much when she’s unconscious.”

He nods and reaches out to touch one of Heidi’s shackled hands again, just briefly, before he jerks away like he’s been burned. Still, that brief touch is enough that the empath’s silent tears stop. All tension melts out of her curled-up body.

The next time Crypt touches her, he breathes out. “Still painful, but slightly more bearable. Where are we moving these survivors to, love?”

I pause, considering our options. I didn’t expect to find humans alive down here, but I guess I’m not surprised. Being immortal, Amadeus tends to view time differently. He’s in no rush, whether it comes to conquering the world or toying with whatever humans he captured or received as tributes from the Frosts.

But now that we’ve found this handful of people and Heidi…

“You need to get them outside the citadel,” I decide. “To my old hovel on the outskirts of the woods. The wards should still be in place, so it will be the safest place for them until the battle is over.”

Crypt’s beautiful violet gaze narrows. “And leave you here, alone? I think not.”

“I won’t be alone. I have ghosts.”

Nine of them, to be exact. They keep slowly gravitating to me through the walls of the catacombs.

“Darling—” he starts to protest, shaking his head.

“These catacombs connect below the arena and its surrounding area,” I explain quickly. “I’ll emerge where all the action is, and the others are already there. I’ll be fine.”

Okay, what are those ugly-ass giant scorpion things? Baelfire asks through the bond. I’ve never seen that kind of shadow fiend before.

I can’t see the battle, but I know exactly what fiend he’s talking about. They’re called namghirr and their venom hurts like fucking hell. It also kills in seconds unless you’ve recently ingested their blood, which helps slow the venom. But I don’t recommend drinking their blood since it tastes like shit.

I’m loath to realize how you must know all of that, Silas grits telepathically.

Just stay away from them. I’ll be there soon, I add before looking at Crypt. “I need to get this heart into Amadeus and end this, but I also need you to get these innocent people to safety.”

The Nightmare Prince glances down at Heidi, sighs, and straightens to pull me close, kissing the top of my head. “Fine, but if you’re harmed while we’re apart…”

I grin, tipping my head back. “Watch out. The green Jell-O threat was already utilized by Baelfire.”

“Damn that big lizard for taking the best threat of them all,” Crypt smiles back. He kisses me gently before growing serious. “If you’re harmed while we’re apart, you won’t be the only one incapable of forgiving me. I’ll be back as quickly as I can, my love.”

“Good. I’ll be in the arena waiting, covered in the blood of our enemies.”

“Seduction at its finest,” he sighs before grasping the edge of Heidi’s ripped jacket and vanishing into Limbo. A second later, I hear the fearful whimpering of the other captive humans stop and know he’s probably put them to sleep to move them through Limbo, too.

That leaves me and my fan club of specters to make our way swiftly through the cold, dim, colorless catacombs until I reach a small wooden door that separates the catacombs from underneath Amadeus’s arena.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door to a huge portion of my childhood.

The scent of this dark place filled with onyx-barred cells assaults me. I practically choke on the memories that come with the overwhelming smell of stale sweat, blood, piss, rot, and death.

When I was a young teenager training to become the telum , the other competitors and I were left chained in here for hours at a time, waiting until we were brought out to show off our new skills in brutal combat. As we got older, they turned into bouts to the death.

I never lost.

When I was young, I never let anyone see me cry about what they were turning me into—not even Lillian. Over the course of months and years, I grew to love the combat and crave the adrenaline of a good fight. The buzz of death became a siren call. The blood and gore became nothing to me.

This arena made me who I am today. Being down here, knowing I’m about to step into the citadel to face Amadeus again…

My heart begins to pound with unfamiliar strength inside my chest. When I was very young, my so-called “father” terrorized me. He was cold and inhuman. Brutal. Merciless.

Naturally, I admired him.

Before I ever learned about the humans being treated like animals in the Nether, I only knew that I wanted to survive—and to survive, I needed to impress Amadeus. So I trained and fought and killed and turned myself into a monster for him.

Out of all that bloodshed, the most unearthly father-daughter relationship was born. He was proud of me, in his own warped way, and I equally feared and even respected him.

And then he ripped out my heart.

I suppose it’s about time I returned the favor.

Taking one more breath of putrid nostalgia, I stride past the cells where I used to hear other children and monsters snarling and weeping. I ascend the ancient stairs to the blood-soaked trap door and fling open the wooden door, emerging into the dim light of this world I once called home.

For one split second, all I can see is this colossal arena that I spent so much time in. Rows of concentric audience stands rise up on all sides to leer over the massive blood-stained dirt floor. Multiple tall columns made of bones and skulls rise up, lit at the top with green flames to illuminate this space despite the Nether’s perpetual darkness. On one side of the arena, Amadeus’s ornate balcony looks out—and there, perched at the edge with the best possible view of the gory fights held here, is his throne made of bones.

He’s not sitting in it right now.

In fact, I don’t see the king of the Undead anywhere as I blink out of my reminiscing and finally register the chaos I just stepped into. Human and legacy Reformists, dozens of tangible ghosts, and hundreds of ravens are attacking ghouls, Undead, demons, Nether monsters, and other hellish creatures all around the arena. The sheer volume of the battle is staggering and tells me the fight extends outside this arena, probably all over the citadel. The air is thick with death and electric with the adrenaline of battle.

High in the dim, grayish sky of the Nether, three golden dragons soar past overhead. One of them lets loose a spine- tingling roar before breathing down blinding royal blue fire somewhere outside the arena. Instinctively, I know that one is mine. Seeing my dragon in action and not feral puts a smile on my face. I withdraw both Pierce and Cuttrina, my blood already pumping with the excitement of combat.

Barely ten seconds into this battle, I roll out of the way of a massive, lumbering ghoul and simultaneously slice across the tendons in the backs of its ankles. It falls with a garbled cry, crushing an enemy incubus on the way down.

Maven. Fucking gods, I can finally see you, Everett says, his voice pure relief.

I see a blast of ice streak through the raging battle somewhere near the top of the arena, freezing enemies in a wave. My gaze locks onto the white-haired elemental who is quickly making his way to me. A changeling that looks just like me is sticking to his side, defending every attack that comes their way as it holds a simple dagger.

She’s on the battlefield? Fuck yes, Baelfire cheers through the bond. My mate’s about to take names and kick some Nether ass.

As I dodge the magical attack of a lich several paces away, I still can’t help smiling—because gods, I love hearing their voices in my head again.

As the lich calls another spell to its skeletal hands, one of the ghosts I made tangible passes through it. The lich shrieks and collapses as if it’s choking, only to get stampeded over by a group of enemy Undead racing toward me.

Rolling my shoulders back, I let my instincts and training kick in as I take on the Undead. I dodge, dip, slash, and dismember until pieces of the living dead are all over. Just as I turn to face the last one, it gets frozen solid.

Everett is suddenly at my back, wielding a sword made of nevermelt, but he spares me a soft blue glance. “You took a while to get up here,” he points out, having to raise his voice over the sounds of shrieks, thuds, wails, and shouts surrounding us.

“Something came up,” I tell him, deciding that the news about Heidi can wait until we’re not surrounded by so much death and violence.

The last thing I need is him getting distracted and injured. I am so fucking not going through that again.

Spotting a demon wielding an adamantine mace as it races toward us, I fling Pierce as hard as I can so it sinks deep into the monster’s skull.

Still, just the sight of a mace makes me grin. I don’t know when maces went out of style as weapons in the mortal realm, but I intend to bring them back.

The vampire drops dead just behind Everett, who hasn’t even bothered looking over his shoulder as he scans our surroundings for threats to me. Meanwhile, the Fake Maven beside him has begun attacking a nearby banshee with a fervor I actually appreciate.

I catch a glimpse of another lookalike to me racing through the arena in the distance. There are twelve of them, scattered around this battle—and I’m sure wherever Amadeus is, it’s irritating him.

I just need him to appear. Then I’ll put an end to all of this.

Silas? I check in, realizing it’s been too long since I’ve heard from my blood fae necromancer.

There’s no response, which makes my already pounding heart grow painful.

I hear a dragon roar again before Baelfire lands on the edge of the massive arena, a changeling that looks like me riding on his back. Even despite the dim lighting, my dragon’s golden scales gleam as he bites a ghoul in half. He swings his tail to knock over another lich before it can throw an attack at more Reformists who are pouring in through the massive entrance on the opposite side of the arena.

Si, Baelfire also says through the bond. Earth to Silas. Hello?

There’s still no reply. Panic tries to creep into my veins, but I focus on fighting. Still, I’m relieved when Crypt joins the telepathic manhunt.

Wherever you are, Crane, answer our keeper or else I’ll have no choice but to drag you by your pointed ears to her side. The survivors are safe, love, and I’ll be there any moment, he adds.

“Survivors?” Everett asks, cutting down a banshee before he peers at me curiously.

“Later,” I promise, yanking Pierce out of the dead demon and twirling it in my hand. We’re surrounded by so many shadow fiends that all of my instincts are almost painfully heightened, like pinpricks dancing over my tensed nerves as I rejoin the fight.

This battle has turned into unmitigated, gruesome chaos. Aside from the growing concern over Silas’s lack of response, I’m enjoying every minute of it as we continue to defend ourselves from countless fiends. It’s also nice that I’m no longer a fucking revenant, so no matter how into the battle I get, I don’t have to worry about losing myself berserking.

I’m also keeping an eye out for Amadeus. I spot a necromancer or two, along with liches and now and then even wraiths, but there is still no sign of Galene’s once-upon-a-time prophet.

Incoming, Baelfire warns. But don’t worry, these rotting corpses are friendly.

On cue, dozens of Silas’s Undead pour through the entryway into the arena at top speed. Instead of attacking the Reformists who are fighting for their lives, these corpse-like allies fling themselves at monsters, banshees, liches, demons, and other Nether creatures. I catch the barest glimpse of several ghosts clapping nearby before they pass through me, becoming tangible and joining the mounting battle once again.

A second later, I’m beyond relieved to see my blood fae appear, strolling through the midst of the living dead. His intense red gaze scans the slaughter until it lands on me. But just as I step in his direction, Silas lifts his blackened hands and sends a powerful blood magic spell careening toward me.

What the?—

“Fuck!” Everett shouts, tackling me out of the way just before the blood magic decimates the changeling beside us.

What the hell just happened? Baelfire barks through the bond just before I see him arch his draconic neck to set a barreling wendigo on fire.

Rolling to my feet, I break into a run toward Silas. He’s already preparing another attack, this time some kind of necromantic hex. But before I can pin him to keep him from being a danger to himself or anyone else, Crypt drops out of Limbo and twists the fae’s arms back, taking him down.

Silas doesn’t even struggle against the incubus as I reach them. A nearby demon takes advantage of our distracted struggle, and I hiss when a blade grazes my side. I kill off the annoyance quickly before crouching beside my fae.

He’s gone insane again, Everett scowls, freezing several enemies on the way to us.

Overhead, I hear another one of the Decimuses roar before an explosion goes off somewhere outside the arena. I also hear the alarming song of a harbinger distantly and hope no ally tries to kill it off—I explicitly told Brigid Decimus and the other Reformist leaders to instruct their troops not to kill harbingers to avoid their retroactively lethal swan songs.

When Silas slowly tries to aim a deadly magic spell at Crypt, I use one of the few holy magic spells I’ve mastered to block his attack before I grip his chin and squint, trying to make out his eyes. This isn’t a changeling, which I’d already guessed thanks to how fucking powerful he is, but I see how widely blown his pupils are.

That combined with his slow movements and bizarre calm makes me swear. Those are all signs of being hypnotized by a vampire.

Bertram , I warn the others telepathically, wincing when my side that got nicked stings, warmth spreading under my black combat attire.

Godsdamn it, Crypt seethes, his remaining markings glowing. Frost ? —

“I’ll snap him out of it. Go get that bastard’s head for our keeper,” Everett orders, taking over pinning Silas to the ground. Crypt vanishes, and my elemental looks at me. “I had to snap some Reformists out of a vampire’s influence on the front lines, months ago. It won’t be pretty, but?—”

A chill rolls over my spine, and I move on instinct, whirling to jam Cuttrina into the center of a necromancer that was just trying to sneak up on us. I don’t recognize this one, but he’s screeching and writhing in pain as I kick him away.

Fuck. Maven, are you bleeding? Baelfire asks telepathically, panic in his voice.

A little.

“What? Where?” Everett demands even as he begins encapsulating Silas’s chest in ice to keep his arms from moving.

I can smell it, Baelfire says quickly. Your demigoddess blood is pretty damn fragrant, and I think the fiends are catching on to it. That’s going to blow our whole changeling shtick out of the water.

Shit. He’s right.

But there’s no point healing it now that my side is soaked in blood. The damage is done, so I focus on killing off any threat nearby as Everett tries to snap Silas out of it. I’m pretty sure my scarred elemental is freezing and unfreezing something inside Silas’s body, but I can’t focus on it because a scream goes up from the battle being waged at the edge of the arena.

That draws my attention to two namghirr as they scuttle into view. The giant, highly venomous namghirr move blindingly fast, impaling allies and throwing the writhing, poison-filled corpses aside. Their stingers are about as long as my arm—and I remember all too well what it feels like to be impaled by them repeatedly.

Baelfire is focused on taking down a group of particularly big ghouls, and I’m not about to let those namghirr get anywhere near Silas and Everett right now, so I wipe blood off my knives and take off toward the creatures, swerving around several fresh ghosts.

As I approach these creatures, I remember the last time I expired from their venomous stingers. I was nineteen at the time and woke up in my hovel later with Lillian crying nearby.

“Don’t cry. I’m okay,” I’d told her.

“Being okay isn’t enough,” she’d insisted. “ I watched how much pain you were in on that arena floor. Don’t make me watch that ever again, little raven. Promise me that the next time you fight those things, you’ll have a better strategy. You’re far stronger and smarter than anything in this dead realm, so don’t you dare let them hurt you like that again.”

And just like every other time I’ve fought namghirr since then, I’ve listened to her.

Falling into the same strategy I’ve used to kill dozens of these creatures, I ignore the worried shouts of Everett and Baelfire inside my head, and I drop to my knees. Sliding across the arena floor between the two front pincers of a namghirr, I raise my knives to score the underside of the deadly creature. Its blood gushes overhead, dousing me.

Rolling out from under it, I slash hard as its back stinger jabs where I just was. Its dismembered stinger falls uselessly to the arena floor. All it takes is leaping onto its back to stab through its screeching head, and I’m onto the next one to repeat my tried-and-true namghirr slaying method.

By the time I’m done, both of them are bleeding out, twitching on the arena floor as the fight continues to rage on throughout the citadel. I’m covered in namghirr blood, smiling and breathing hard from the thrill of taking down these deadly creatures, when Crypt appears out of Limbo in front of me.

He’s also covered in fresh blood, but his gaze is pure obsession as he studies me, setting down a head on the arena floor beside us.

It’s Bertram’s head, complete with his bright red hair.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“I’m having the time of my new life,” I grin.

“My gods, you’re so stunning in your element,” he breathes before wrapping me up in a kiss.

I should probably tell him this may be one of the worst times in the world to be kissing, but his mouth is so desperate and perfect against mine. Even in battle, he smells like sweet reverium and leather, and soon I’m kissing him back as warfare rages around us.

I sense coolness behind me just before Crypt releases me, and suddenly my head is tipped back as Everett steals a kiss from me next. It’s shorter but no less passionate before he wipes namghirr blood off my cheek.

“Silas is back,” he tells me, his glacial gaze flicking around us to check for any threats.

Silas? I check, glancing over my shoulder to see that my fae is surrounded by loyal Undead as he braces himself on his knees, catching his breath. Are you okay?

I’m— His telepathic voice cuts off like he was just about to try lying. He straightens to meet my gaze through the battle, speaking in fae. I’ll be fine once I can apologize between your pretty thighs again for nearly harming the love of my life.

Gods.

He doesn’t owe me an apology, but I’m not about to point that out now that he’s reminded me of how fucking fantastic he is at apologizing with his mouth.

A dragon roars overhead again, and blue fire bathes something far away in Amadeus’s citadel. All of us are drawn back into battle for what feels like hours, but is more likely minutes. More shadow fiends are being drawn to me because of the scent of my demigoddess blood.

Not that I mind. I crave being surrounded by combat like this, and fighting beside my quintet is fulfilling, especially when we’re all so much stronger thanks to our bond.

But when a petrifying chill seems to spread through the air, I go still.

Amadeus is here.