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Sixteen

T he old woman, Gereg, was a sort of eldress that mortals called a priestess. She believed that Azreth had been sent by their goddess to fulfill some kind of vague death prophecy.Moratha was the mortals’ goddess of death, and to mortals, demons were bringers of death, so he supposed he couldn’t fault their reasoning.

She showed them around the temple while she told them all this. Everywhere they went, stares followed.The cultists did not seem afraid of him. That made him nervous.

He walked among them unglamoured, and instead of running in terror, they followed him around and fawned over him, bowing low and staring in awe and showering praise. Perhaps someone with more sense or patience would have found a way to take advantage of this, but he just wanted them gone.

Unfortunately, he needed them. They had mages, books, and supplies that might help Raiya craft a counter-enchantment to remove his binding. And the Paladins couldn’t enter the temple while the cultists were guarding them. So when they discussed apocalyptic prophecies and waxed poetic about their own mortality, Raiya just nodded blandly.

“Your companion doesn’t speak much, Acolyte Raiya,” Gereg said after a while, studying Azreth with a keen eye. Azreth just frowned at her, because he didn’t know what to say, and because he already didn’t like her.

Raiya gave that easy, charming smile of hers, and said without missing a beat, “He is still new to the mortal plane. Our customs are unfamiliar to him, so he prefers to let me speak for him.”

He could tell that Raiya believed herself to be telling a lie. Maybe she thought she had pressured him into allowing her to speak for him. Maybe she didn’t know how relieved he was to have an intermediary between himself and the other mortals. If she hadn’t been with him, his life would have reverted to violence and chaos long ago.

She always knew what to say to ease tensions and build friendships. She was good at that. It had worked on him, after all. Azreth didn’t know how to talk to mortals. He didn’t even know how to talk to other kin. It was easier to just keep his distance from others.

After what felt like hours, the priestess finally left them alone in the temple’s main hall.

Azreth turned to Raiya. He hadn’t fully appreciated how much he liked being alone with her until the cultists had begun crowding around. Even now, a few of them hovered on the edges of the room, staring.

Raiya noticed him looking at her, and she smiled tiredly, like they were sharing a secret.

He needed to feed. He did not want to ask, but he had completely run out of magic. He’d had to dispel his false arm, which he never did if he had a choice. He had long ago come to terms with his missing limb, but it was still a weakness, and he disliked being reminded of it. Having his deformity on display for all to see shamed him.

He imagined Raiya would grow tired of being put in this position. She must have already suspected he would do nothing to her if she refused him. He could only ask her, and hope her generosity didn’t run out.

He touched her back, indulgently running his fingers up to her exposed neck above her cloak. Her skin was damp and cold.

“I am hungry,” he said, regretful.

To his surprise, her dark eyes got darker. “So am I.” Her smile had quirked up on one side, giving it a sultry edge. She met his gaze and didn’t look away, though her cheeks had grown redder. She was blushing.

Heat gripped him, burning in his chest—a pleasant pain, which was worrying. Pain should never feel pleasant.

She cleared her throat, looking away. “Later,” she promised.

He nodded, mute.

* * *

The moment Raiya left his side, cultists rapidly closed in. They caught him in a hallway, blocking his path forward. He didn’t think they meant him harm, but it made him nervous to be so close to so many people, and he suppressed the instinct to beat his way through them.

“Great Servant of Moratha!” said one of them in greeting, bowing low. The others bowed in unison, too. “We are most honored by your presence. The High Priestess tells us a great awakening is coming.”

It was absolutely bizarre seeing mortals so happy to see him. “…Yes,” he said.

The cultist smiled wide. “We are your humble servants. What would you have us do?”

“Help my companion find a way to break the curse on me.”

The cultist dipped his head. “Of course. And after that, Dark One? What does the dark lady wish of us?”

Azreth just stared at him. He had no idea what their goddess wanted, but he couldn’t very well say so.

The cultist took his silence in stride. “Do you require blood sacrifices?”

Against his better judgment, he paused to consider that. It sounded like something he’d like. “Sacrifices?”

“Yes!” The man drew a knife from within his robes and ushered two young female cultists forward to kneel in front of him. “They’re virgins, of course. Or would you prefer the blood of a child? Or a priest of Astra, perhaps?”

Azreth did not completely understand what a virgin was, but he gleaned it was something to do with sex.

He considered the group for a moment. The girls in front of him were stiff, and their eyes darted, avoiding him.

The offer was not tempting.

His life had become so strange. Mortals were throwing themselves at him now, and he didn’t even want them.

“At your word, my lord.” The male cultist raised his knife to the throat of one of the girls in front of him, and Azreth suddenly understood that this “blood sacrifice” involved killing, not merely bleeding. The man was grinning excitedly, but the girl’s fear was filling the hall.

Azreth contemplated demanding the man’s own life instead, just to see if he’d retract his offer. But he wasn’t confident the man wouldn’t joyfully slit his own throat, and Raiya probably wouldn’t like it if she found out he’d made a man kill himself.

“Why would I want that?” Azreth asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “What good does it do me?”

The cultist looked startled. He quickly recovered, sheathing the knife. The girls were visibly relieved.

“They would be honored to serve you in other ways, too, of course,” the man said. “We have many beautiful maidens among us. And if none here take your fancy, we will procure others. Whatever you wish. The town is full of delights of the flesh.”

“No,” he replied simply. The cultist blinked at him. They were all still blocking the hallway in front of him. Azreth was so impatient to get away from them that he just turned and walked the other way.

“Very well, my lord!” the cultist called after him. “We are at your service, my lord! Whenever you wish to begin, we will be ready!”

* * *

Azreth stood beside Raiya’s bed in the sleeping quarters that night to guard her sleep. At least, he tried to, but after an hour of cultists sidling up to him to ask for favors or whisper their desires for servitude, Raiya became annoyed and told him to wait outside.

The night became a tiring game of avoiding the cultists, many of whom seemingly didn’t sleep. Their temple was pleasantly dark and quiet, and it was easy to find secluded spots, but somehow they always found him. He would never admit it aloud, but on one occasion he glamoured himself completely brown-black to blend in with the wall of a dark room and avoid notice.

In the morning, he went to the sleeping quarters to wake Raiya, and her bed was already empty and tidy, as if she’d never been there. He found her some time later in a room that was filled to the brim with hundreds, maybe thousands, of books on shelves. It should have been the first place he looked for her.

She was sitting on her knees, bent over a large, old-looking book. Her hair draped beside her face. Her hands were splayed on either side of the book, her brow slightly furrowed as she read. She looked nice like this. He didn’t know why. She was always pretty, but even more so right then, somehow.

He knelt beside her, but she didn’t notice him, and he didn’t interrupt her work to greet her. He watched her read until she happened to sit back and look up. She smiled when she saw him. A flame in his heart lit up, burning him.

She was the only one in this temple who really wanted him, and not just to use him. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. He liked being wanted.

It was a very mortal way of thinking. Raiya’s ways were rubbing off on him, and that probably should have worried him.

“Look what I found,” she said excitedly, pointing at the old book. “It was written by an Ysuran mage who lived in the fourth century. It’s a study of runes found on enchanted artifacts from the hells. Look at these. They’re very similar to the ones on your hand.” She flipped through pages, pointing as she went. “And here—this section has theories about reversing bindings. Most of it isn’t relevant to you, but look at this set of runes. The runes on your hand appear to be a combination of several languages and spell types, but I think some of them use an old demonic language. We can use this as a basis for building a spell to reverse your binding. I’ve already made a few prototype enchantments for us to test.”

Azreth stared at the book, then at her notebook, dazed. Prototypes. Spells.

He asked slowly, “You can read all these runes? These spells?”

“Yes, most of them. I’ve studied runic languages for a long time. Maybe longer than I should have.” She blushed a little, embarrassed for some reason. But she happily pointed out the parallels between the runes she’d drawn and the ones on his hand, explaining in depth how her counter-enchantment would work. He didn’t understand any of it. Many of the words she said were foreign to him, and the concepts were hard to grasp.

Eventually, she went silent, waiting for his reaction. He was at a loss for words.

It wasn’t until that moment that he had understood how truly beyond him she was.

Perhaps mortals were right to think of demons as dumb beasts, because compared to her, he knew nothing of the workings of the universe. He had never studied anything the way she studied enchantments. Even if he’d wanted to, he could not read the texts she pored over. The symbols on the page held no more meaning to him than the runes on his palm. The idea that she could absorb meaning from the writing covering the page felt almost like magic in itself.

His own magic ability came from instinct, not from a true understanding of how the magic worked. It was like everything else he did—he was only good at fumbling his way through by brute force.

She was young for a mortal, but she had already learned so much and gained so much skill.

“You are very clever,” he said softly. It was an entirely inadequate way to describe her.

“Oh. Thank you,” she said, as if it was nothing.

“I thought you were a mere craftsman of enchantments, not an inventor of them. You have impressive skill.”

“I don’t know about that. But I’m glad I can be of assistance.”

“You offer more than just assistance,” he said quietly. “If you were not with me, I would be trapped and without hope.”

She looked surprised. After a moment, she reached down and put her hand on his. There was a feeling almost like sadness coming from her.

“I’m glad I can help,” she said. “No one should be trapped or hopeless.”

He curled his fingers around her hand, just holding it.Warmth enveloped him.

“What will you do after you’re free?” she asked. “You said you will not return to the hells.”

“No. I will remain here with you.”

She blinked. “With me?”

There was surprise in her voice.Azreth went still. A cold feeling swept over him, extinguishing the warmth. He looked up at her, searching her face.

He had not thought about what would happen in the future, after she didn’t need him anymore. Of course she would leave him eventually.

He pulled his hand away from hers. “Yes.”

She looked at him closely. “What do you mean by that?”

It was like she was taunting him. She was challenging him to admit what he meant—that he’d thought they would stay together and help each other, and he hadn’t thought about when that arrangement would end.

She must have thought he was a fool. And she was right. She must have been privately laughing at him for believing that she wanted his company or that she thought he was something more than a monster.

Suddenly he wanted to be cold to her. He wanted to make her feel what he felt. “You will stay by my side while I remain on your plane,” he said. “That is all.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

She crossed her arms. “Perhaps you should ask me what I plan to do, instead of telling me.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t decided yet, and I was considering my options.”

If she left him, he would either have to force other mortals to feed him, offer himself to the disgusting cultists, or die.

She could take everything from him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to her that he depended on her in order to live, but it wasn’t fair to him, either.And besides that, the thought of her leaving him made that flame in his heart burn so hot that it became like a lump of iron in his chest.

Anger and fear made him increasingly stupid. Words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “You will remain with me, and I will feed from you.”

She raised an eyebrow sharply. “Is that a command?”

“If it must be.”

Anger billowed from her. It made him nauseous. “You can’t do that. You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my master.”

“There is nothing you can do to stop me. You are weak.”

Her jaw dropped. She slammed her book shut, and it seemed like she’d barely restrained herself from kicking it away before she stood up. “How dare you talk to me like this?”

He stood up too, so that he could look down on her. “You give me no choice,” he said through his teeth, baring his fangs. “I must feed, or I will grow weak and die. There is no other option.”

“Perhaps I would have continued to help you if you had just asked me. Did you think of that?”

“You said you were considering leaving me.”

“So you’ve decided to force me to stay?”

“If you refuse, you will force my hand!”

“So if I tried to leave you, you would keep me against my will? And how will you feed from me? Do you plan to hold me down and torture me?”

Was that what she thought of him?

Of course. Of course it was. Wasn’t that exactly what he was threatening her with?

“I do not want to hurt you.” Just the idea of it caused him a pain that was almost physical.

“Then what is your plan, exactly? How will you feed from me if I’m unwilling?”

He said nothing.

“I thought you—I thought we were getting along,” she said. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have my trust and friendship while also holding me hostage.”

“I apologize if I gave you the impression that you should trust me,” he said. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but it was what came out, anyway.

“You’re right. That was my mistake.” The words struck him like a slap. She shouldered past him to move toward the hallway, and he grabbed her.

She looked back at him, apprehensive. Shame filled him, and he loosened his grip a little.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To my bed.”

“It’s only midday. You will not require rest for hours.”

“And?”She gave him a challenging look.

“Aren’t you going to try to undo my binding?”

“When I’m not feeling so exhausted, maybe.” She glanced pointedly at his hand on her. “Release me.” She looked like she wasn’t sure he would.

He let go. He wanted her to understand, but didn’t know how to explain himself. He wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. But he didn’t. And she left.