Page 8 of Infernal Crown (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

VERIK

“Fucking fuckface,” I growl, flipping roughly through a textbook on hell dimensions, wishing I’d kicked Dathan’s arse.

He had no right to be such a cry-baby when this was a choice of his own making.

A flash of homesickness washes over me, and I shove it away before I go and find him and finish what we started.

The Soul Scar flares to life on my arm, and I scowl at it, shoving the book away forcefully enough for it to skitter off the library table.

“Someone’s in a mood.”

I look up at Lysithea standing near the alcove entrance. She is dressed all in white, which makes her look ethereal. I’ve only ever seen her in black. “Thought you wanted us to fuck off? Or are you crawling back because you miss my dick?”

“Ouch,” she murmurs. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t actually. You storming away from us earlier… that was a bit harsh.”

Her expression shifts, something unclear flickering across her face before she locks it down. “I know. I was... processing.”

“Processing what exactly? The fact that we saved your life? The fact that we’re all trapped here together now because of choices we made to keep you breathing?” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “Or are you processing how quickly you told us all to fuck off?”

“All of it.” She moves closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the table before she moves them to trail up my arm.

I flex my biceps. Something doesn’t feel right.

She curls her hands around my arms and pulls them away from my chest before she crawls into my lap.

I lean back as far as I can without tipping the chair over. “What is this?”

She doesn’t answer, just presses closer. Her scent washes over me, familiar but wrong somehow.

“Get off,” I say, my hands going to her waist to lift her away.

But she resists, her fingers digging into my shoulders almost painfully. “Don’t you want me, Verik?”

The words are right, but the voice is off. Too smooth. Too practised. Like someone reading from a script they’ve memorised but never felt.

My hellfire stirs uneasily in my veins, a warning I can’t ignore. This isn’t Lysithea. Something’s wearing her face, speaking with her voice, but it’s not her.

“Nice try,” I growl, my hands heating up where they rest on her waist. Not enough to burn, but enough to make a point. “But you’re not her.”

The thing pretending to be Lysithea tilts its head, and for a split second, the mask slips. The eyes are wrong. Older. Colder. Ancient and calculating in a way that makes my skin crawl.

“How can you tell?” it asks, and now the voice is different too. Still hers but layered with something else. “Because she would’ve punched me in the face by now for being a dickhead.” I push her, but she is too strong, and she doesn’t budge.

“Verik, we need to talk,” Lysithea’s voice rings out wearily before the air in the alcove turns ominous. “Oh, fuck no!” she roars.

“It’s not what it looks like!” I exclaim quickly, shoving at the fake Lysithea until she eventually slides off my lap. Unfortunately, my cock thought it was her for a few seconds and is raging in my pants.

Lysithea’s face, the real one, is a picture of absolute, terrifying rage. “You,” she hisses and lunges forward in a familiar black dress.

I stand swiftly and hold my hands up to catch hers before she rips my cock off and beats me to death with it, but she isn’t aiming for me.

She’s aiming for her.

Fake her.

The two Lysitheas collide in a tangle of white and black fabric and fury. I scramble backwards, my chair toppling as I try to get out of the way of what looks like the world’s most violent mirror match.

“You absolute bitch!” the real Lysithea snarls, her hands wrapping around the fake one’s throat. “How dare you wear my face!”

The imposter laughs, a sound like breaking crystal. “Your face? Child, I had this face before you were even a whisper in the void.”

They roll across the library floor, identical in every way except for their clothes. Both have murderous intent, but Lysithea’s is personal. The other is clinical. Like she’s dissecting a particularly interesting specimen.

“Verik!” Lysithea shouts, pinning the older Siren down. “Get the others! Now!”

I don’t move. My brain feels like it’s being crushed in a vice. The Soul Scar is rabid fire, confused by having two Lysitheas in the same room. It feels like my arm is being torn in half.

“Verik!” Lysithea shouts.

I drop my head into my hands when it feels like DarkHallow comes crashing down on my head.

“You bitch! This won’t work!” Lysithea’s voice rings out and I force myself to look up. “You can’t fucking have them!”

Now both of them are dressed in black, and I have no idea which is which.

My head pounds like someone’s using it as a fucking battering ram.

The Soul Scar feels like it’s trying to crawl out of my skin, torn between two identical sources of power.

I can’t tell which Lysithea is real anymore.

They’re both dressed in black, both radiating that familiar mix of shadow and song that makes my hellfire sing in response.

“Fuck,” I breathe, pressing my palms against my temples. The magical feedback is excruciating.

They’re still fighting, rolling across the library floor in a blur of identical fury. Books crash from shelves as they slam into the stacks. One of them screams, a note that shatters three windows simultaneously.

I stumble backwards, my vision swimming. The confusion is making me nauseous. Every instinct I have is screaming contradictory orders. Protect her. But which her? The Soul Scar doesn’t know either. It’s trying to connect to both of them, and it’s tearing me apart in the process.

“Stop!” I roar, hellfire erupting from my hands in desperation. The flames create a wall between the two fighting figures, forcing them apart.

They both turn to glare at me with identical violet eyes. Identical faces. Identical expressions of absolute rage.

“Verik, it’s me!” they both say simultaneously.

My knees give out. I hit the floor hard, the Soul Scar now feels like molten metal being poured directly into my veins. The agony is so intense that black spots dance across my vision.

“Verik!” Both voices call my name, and the sound splits my skull like an axe.

I force myself to focus, squinting through the pain. There has to be a way to tell them apart. Some detail, some tell that will reveal which one is my Siren and which is the one that tried to seduce me with her face. I don’t even know who this bitch is, but Lysithea seems to.

I hold my hand out to the one on the right. “Okay, wildcat. I know it’s you.”

She smiles triumphantly and walks towards me.

It takes everything I have to blast her back with a surge of hellfire.

“ Hell cat, bitch,” the left Lysithea spits out and flashes me a furious glare.

I struggle to my feet, the Soul Scar still confused, even if I’m not. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Aeliana,” Lysithea spits, like the name tastes of poison. “The first Nox Siren. Blackgrove’s psychotic ex-girlfriend, who thinks she can steal what’s mine.”

“She was trying to seduce me. Wearing your face.”

“I know.” Her voice is deadly quiet. “And if you’d fallen for it, I would’ve castrated you with my bare hands.”

I thank every lucky star that I didn’t. “What does she want?”

“Where are the other guys?” she says instead, glaring at Aeliana, who is caged in a hellfire.

She isn’t going anywhere. Yet. I have no doubt she will escape this prison sooner rather than later.

I shrug. “We needed some time apart,” I say stiffly, my head still banging like a drum. But I need to focus.

“Oh?” she asks with a frown. “What happened?”

“Dathan and I had a fight,” I mutter, rubbing my temples where the pain is finally starting to recede. “He got pissy about his parents, I called him a spoiled brat, Evren told us both to fuck off, and Dathan told him he liked it better when he was mute.”

“Fuck’s sake, Verik.” Her voice is flat with disappointment. “What is wrong with all of you?”

“I didn’t start it. Dathan did.”

“He walked away from me,” she says quietly, startling me. “He was talking to the grimoire, and then he told me he would walk away from me if I wanted him to. I told him to go.”

“He walked away? Dathan doesn’t walk away from you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She glances at Aeliana, who’s standing perfectly still within my fire cage, watching us with those ancient, calculating eyes.

“Turns out the Soul Scar doesn’t know which Nox Siren it belongs to.

There is only meant to be one at a time.

Having her here is fucking with everything.

The bond recognises the older, more powerful Siren.

Unless I complete the grimoire first and become what I’m supposed to be, the bond will eventually choose her. ”

I stare at the ancient bitch in my fire cage. She’s still wearing Lysithea’s face, but now I can see the differences. The eyes are colder, more distant. Like she’s looking at us from across centuries of disappointment. “How long do we have?”

“No idea. But every moment we’re apart, every fight we have, makes it easier for her to slip in and take what’s mine.”

The possessive edge in her voice makes my hellfire burn hotter. “Are we yours?” I ask carefully.

Her violet eyes flash with something possessive and territorial. “You’re mine. All of you. And I’m not letting some ancient bitch steal what belongs to me.”

The Soul Scar flares in response to her declaration, a warm pulse that feels like coming home. Even confused and torn between two sources, it recognises her claim. Her ownership of us.

“Good,” I growl, letting more hellfire pour into the cage around Aeliana. “Because I’m getting really fucking tired of fighting for everything.”

Aeliana tilts her head, studying Lysithea with those too-old eyes. “You think you can hold them?” she asks, her voice carrying centuries of condescension. “You’re weak. A pale echo of what a true Nox Siren should be.”

“Maybe,” Lysithea says, stepping closer to the fire cage. “But I’m the one they chose. I’m the one they bound themselves to. And I’m the one who’s going to complete that fucking grimoire and make sure you never get your claws into them.”

The ancient Siren laughs, the sound like breaking glass. “The grimoire created me first, child. I was its perfect creation. Its ideal vision made flesh. You’re just a mistake it’s clinging to.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl. “All of this trash talk is boring, and seeing as you are locked in a fire cage, you are really not in a position to say anything.”

“Agreed,” Blackgrove says, materialising as he does, just as I’m about to collapse. “Aeliana. You really need to stay where I put you.”

“Traitor,” she hisses. “You?—”

Blackgrove cuts her off as he snaps his fingers, and she disappears.

I let out a rasp of relief and stumble slightly as his presence instantly snaps the bond back to Lysithea. “Fuck,” I breathe, leaning against the nearest bookshelf. “That was brutal.”

Lysithea’s hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with mine. The touch grounds me, reminds me which reality is real. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” I squeeze her hand, noting how cold her skin is. “You’re freezing.”

She nods and looks over at where the hellfire cage was. Blackgrove has left us as well, thankfully. I pull Lysithea closer, planting my lips on hers in a bruising kiss, and it makes everything seem less of a shitshow, even though we are only just getting started.