Page 15

Extravagance was the weakness of Demons. They liked to flash their power and wealth, as though it were a measure of who they really were, to hide their horns and pretend to be something beyond devils. Kri'Valta was no stranger to it.

I stood in the front hall of his home, the building perched precariously on a cliff side that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, made of stunning marble that had likely taken decades to carve. It was littered with gaudy décor and seemingly endless, priceless pieces of work. Paintings, scriptures, statues …

Fallon would be so disappointed to know he missed it.

Their age showed in the faded paint that was expertly maintained in gold-framed glass displays. Guards were stationed between the priceless pieces of art, standing like sentinels as I walked through, eyeing each one.

Van Gogh, Monet, Vidal, Rodin … The list grew.

What wasn't covered in art was bathed in gold, from elegantly hand-carved pillars that stretched to the ceilings, to the guards themselves. They were dressed in flashy armor that screamed of wealth, to an extent that would have been excessive for a Greed Demon . It was even more concerning knowing that Kri'Valta was a Lust.

He had decades to amass this fortune, this life, this power. Still, seeing it was an entirely different experience. I let my hand fall open at my side and kept walking.

"Welcome, Vivas Crypt," the usher at the door to the end of the long hall said when I approached, his voice a steady monotone. He was unassuming, dressed in a white suit, his dipped head covered in a shawl hiding his face from me. "The master has been expecting you."

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks down below echoed, barely hiding the questionable music that could be heard coming from past him.

I nodded as the man stepped to the side to allow me through, when someone clicked their tongue behind me. I tensed, jaw popping as I fought the need to snap at them for the disrespect.

It only took me one breath to realize it was Magelav. Their swampy stench had grown muted but was still there. I sighed, looking over my shoulder at them to find someone completely different from the witch they'd taken the shape of.

They were lithe, standing a couple of inches shorter than me, with short, unruly black hair and almost sunken gray eyes that felt out of place on their pale face. The high rise to their cheekbones gave them an almost feminine flare that was alluring in the same way poisoned apples were. They'd taken many shapes over the years and seeing another now barely fazed me.

I'd assumed, apparently naively, they'd gone with Nero and left me to my own mission. After their spell had dropped me here, I hadn't even thought to see if they'd followed. What a nuisance to find they had. Part of me wanted to turn away and pretend I hadn't seen them, maybe hope that the usher would stop them at the door.

But if I was invited, so was the Bog Sorceri.

"You dally and dawdle, almost like a child," they said, like they didn't notice me staring.

"Magelav. I see you've dressed for the occasion," I responded dryly.

There was a grunt and an angry stomping of feet. Almost in a flash, their face morphed, flashing to the familiar withered one they'd been using, wrinkled and dull.

"Would you prefer Mags's old form? In such an establishment, no less," they chided, brushing their hair away from their forehead as their facade fell back into place, keeping that vicious scowl.

It was short, the curled black strands waving around their head, their eyes suddenly mirroring Kali's ashen gray. I tensed, and a brush of power slid out from under my skin at the sight. It made me itch, the feeling grating on every nerve.

Mags chuffed, rolling their eyes, and looking at the door I'd been primed to walk through. A line had formed behind us, everyone watching but refusing to get any closer. I turned fully toward the sound of slowly growing sin, ignoring them instead to prepare for whatever I'd find on the other side. I reached for my cuffs, tugging them down to cover as much skin as possible, before stepping through the threshold.

The entire room was a work of art, bodies on display, much like the paintings and sculptures in the hall. Some were strung from the rafters, intricate shibari tracing exposed forms in golden-lined ropes. The vibrant reds of their blindfolds were the only splotches of color. All of them were gagged, those closer to the ground being poked and prodded by the guests. The sound of sex was suddenly the only thing I could hear, blending with the music as it became a lust-filled symphony.

I avoided the people in the room as we walked, and they reacted in kind, flinching away when we got too close. Most parted, giving us a clear path through the debauchery. It should have been an easy task, finding the host. Kri'Valta was flashy, if nothing else, and he'd always liked being the center of attention.

But my gaze caught someone else instead, a man who stood out from the others in the room. He was attractive, extremely so, a telltale sign that he, like many of the guests, was a Demon of Lust. He smiled sweetly at a couple that had drawn his way, expertly playing them with every manipulative move he made, but it wasn't that which caught me. There were plenty of attractive Naturals, plenty of other sights to stick to, a Demon to hunt.

This man had hair like snow, a kind that wasn't necessarily rare, especially when marred by a black stripe that twirled over a pointed ear … but I'd only ever seen it paired with lavender eyes once, and that had me taking a step forward.

"Play not, with matters of the grave," Magelav said, their voice a cracked whisper that had me whipping my head to face them. They were normal, or as normal as the Bog Sorceri could be, for all of a second, before their eyes rolled back to show the whites. Pulses of Chronomancy so strong those around us paused lashed out, freezing in the air as though suspended in time. As soon as it had happened, it stopped, and they were shaking their head, dusting fresh sand off their suit. "The fates have changed, such a fickle, fickle ? — "

"Well, isn't this a surprise? If it isn't the Osiris Vivas."

Magelav sucked in a hard breath next to me, mumbling the rest of their thought, as a towering man stepped forward through the crowd. He held an air of potent ancient magic, one that made me sick. His long black hair was styled delicately around his head, with interweaving charms and gems scattered throughout, matching the gold of his eyes. Beyond that, he wore little, only gold chains wrapped over black cloth that covered the most intimate of places. As flashy as he was dangerous.

Kri'Valta had found us, it seemed.

"You know, when I heard that you'd be coming to my little art show, I didn't believe it. That you'd grace me with your presence, and pull yourself out of that hole you'd locked your Crypt in … I'm honored. " His teeth were a row of dangerous fangs, mocking when he smiled. "Well, do tell. How are you liking the party?"

Silly pleasantries were drowned out by the noise around us. I longed to get away from it, to get on with the fight that might well determine how the Eternium would play.

"I'm not here for the party, Kri'Valta," I said, shaking out my hands. The room had lost its color, and I wasn't sure if it was a magic of his or a dimming of my own perspective. My wrist throbbed, as if reminding me why I was here. "Don't pretend otherwise. It's insulting."

Kri'Valta was quick to move, like a viper in shallow water, as he raised an eyebrow, his face scrunching up before he rolled his eyes. "Always spoiling my fun. Come, then."

Every event that had led to this moment flashed in front of me as I stared at the Demon Eternal's back. My body prepared for a fight, a flash of fire lingering on the tips of my fingers, the roof of my mouth burning as fangs threatened to fall.

My mind was the last to catch up, the crippling numbness less like a shield and more like a shadow tonight. The days I'd spent with Aaliyah had cracked it, warping the feeling until it was nothing at all. I'd felt alive, human , and now she was gone.

And I was left with the numb once again.

Magelav and I were led through the crowd, the sensual music reverberating through the floor. Everything was too confined, too loud , and I snapped out at those that drew close. The only reprieve came from the fact that no one touched me. Even with the sheer amount of distraction, those on the floor parted as Kri'Valta moved, allowing us through. They watched in awe and in fear.

Kri'Valta was a startling presence, and though I'd been in it before, it was different now. More pronounced, the nuanced brushes of his magic were like markers for what I needed to prepare for, but knowing what was coming didn't stifle the adrenaline as it flooded. It clashed with the hollow part of my soul.

We entered a private room on the far side of the dance floor. Two guards flanked, standing at the door's sides just as it clicked closed behind us.

Tonight, either I fulfilled my end of Drakon's bargain, or I died here.

Aaliyah was gone because of me, in the hands of a monster. My strangled thoughts went to Eirik, Fallon, and Adrian, and the fate I could only pray they'd escape.

The weight of my failures lingered on my shoulders, like the pull of the sun. I searched in my chest for my brothers. Their bonds had wavered, strung tight, but at least they were still there, for now.

I scanned the room. After the ordeal at The Altar, I'd expected to walk into much the same decor, but Kri'Valta's space held none of the stoic accent Alderi'Vidius had curated. The room was mostly comfort; the floor was made of soft padding, couches lining the walls, and lush gold silk covering everything else. It was messy, with articles of clothing, jewelry, and other bobbles littering the few tables and the floor. Even the air was a distraction, filled with sex and a hint of Fae drugs strong enough to make me dizzy even as I forced myself to stay alert.

Kri'Valta hummed a tune under his breath, picking up a random bottle as he passed through the room, the amber liquid inside sloshing as he popped the lid. He glanced at us over his shoulder with a mocking smile.

"Magelav? Is that you?" he asked, appraising the surly Chronomancer with an indulgent smirk. He took a swig from the bottle. "You look delectable. Maybe I can convince you to grace my sheets again after this is done with. I'd love to?—"

Magelav snorted before gagging, face paling as they covered their mouth. "Speak not to me, Horror. I have no kind words for swine shit."

Kri'Valta raised an eyebrow, swirling his bottle with a dramatic flair, before he rolled his eyes.

"Well, aren't you just charming, as always," he said, taking another sip. Magelav fell into the back of the room, out of Kri'Valta's sight. He turned to me again, shaking his head. "Might I offer you a drink? Before you try to kill me, that is."

Word of my arrival was expected; even so, having the man you were planning to kill say it out loud never got smoother. It would have made things easier if he hadn't seen this coming, but it would have been cowardly.

Had this happened a year ago, I would have told him of it myself. Given him the fight he deserved, and I knew somewhere inside of him he craved. There was honor in a fair fight.

But I couldn't lose, not now. I couldn't let my brothers die in vain. I couldn't abandon Aaliyah to whatever fate Sebek had in store for her. I'd told her once, when we'd first met, that I liked to think we were more than just Vampires.

More than savage beasts with no moral code, like so many others that shared the name.

I'd strip that all away tonight, throw my pride to the ground and lie and cheat if it meant killing this man would save her. Even if it didn't, I was still going to try. Because I could only be more now if she was by my side. Nothing else mattered. I was her monster, her devil, hers. Lux mea.

My light.

"I take it he told you I was coming?" I asked, and Kri'Valta nodded.

I took a step toward him, veering slightly toward the gold-tinted walls. I waited until his head tipped and he took another drink before I moved. I was careful as I let my hand drift until my palm was against the gold paint.

"Yes, but I would've figured it out the moment you stepped through my door. Why else would I be allowed the pleasure of a visit from the infamous Osiris Vivas? It's insulting, if I'm honest. I'm far too old to fall for assassination attempts, much like you, I'd imagine," he said, watching me with veiled interest, still sipping his drink.

There was a terrifying grace to him, one that reminded me of the sea he was named after. Horror of the Depths. He was every bit the powerful man legends told him to be, a fact that only grew more prominent as he swirled his drink. Gold dust shimmered on his skin, behind his eyes, a physical manifestation of lust.

"Yet you invited me in anyway. Even knowing what I'd come for," I stated, and Kri'Valta's lips curled, exposing two rows of jagged teeth.

Long before he'd become an Eternal, he'd spent his days ruling the ocean, his own Atlantis building until he grew bored with it and sank it down in those same depths. Danger radiated off him, every flourishing wave as likely to be a strike as it was a caress.

"Of course, Sebek and I have been allies for longer than the Eternals have been in control. He told me I could expect a wayward child tonight, and that he'd appreciate it if I removed them for him," he said with a wave of his hand before setting down his glass. The swirling gold in his eyes deepened, his long black hair lifted slightly, as though affected by a soft breeze, and his head tipped to the side. "But I'm curious. Why don't you humor me before you die? What made him snap? He's been crazed for centuries, but something happened recently that has sent him over the edge. Having another kill his prized spawn just proves that. Doesn't it, Usire ?"

Hints of veiled malice shone in his eyes, a curiosity that was bred through lifetimes. Sebek was a brutal enigma that everyone wanted to watch fall apart, even if it meant watching the world break with him.

It was the hubris of immortals. They grew complacent, disregarding any life that wasn't their own.

"He would have found a way to get rid of us regardless," I answered, keeping Kri'Valta in my sights as he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"That we can agree on, but leaving it to someone else? The Sebek Ra admitting the weakness of his own Turned? Not likely. Come now, don't be so boring . Give me something believable," Kri'Valta said dully.

My focus was still on him, on the beat of the heart in his chest that was little more than a prop. "Because he found something to obsess over. Something so out of his grasp he couldn't help the spiral," I added.

Kri'Valta's grin grew sinister, and his head tipped back in a laugh. "Now that is a theory I enjoy. Thank you. It will be fun to ponder later."

"Enough of this. You know why I'm here, Kri'Valta?" I asked, avoiding his answer and the rage it sparked as I shrugged off my suit coat.

Magelav stayed back, watching from afar like some twisted emissary of fate. I knew without asking they wouldn't dabble, wouldn't intervene, however this went.

"Didn't care enough to learn. All you petty ants want the same. Power, revenge," Kri'Valta mused, humoring me for a moment. I heard the click of a lock, the door behind us sealing us in. "It matters not which it is."

I'd been watching him since the moment he appeared at the party, the way he moved, looking for hints of guilt that weren't found there. That I hadn't expected to find, but I searched for anyway, because somewhere in the nagging parts of my mind, I wondered if what we'd learned was true.

It didn't matter in the end what his answer was. Either way, he would die here tonight.

"So, you don't recall helping Teviticus murder his son's Pearl?" I asked, and for a flash, surprise took over Kri'Valta's face. It was just as quickly masked with a devious smile.

"Now, that , I didn't do," he started. "I haven't had dealings with Teviticus in millennia. Quite the accusation."

Drakon hadn't seemed to think that, yet the rage in Kri'Valta's response was enough to convince me otherwise. If he was wrong, it was still a sour wound to poke, based on the fire in Kri'Valta's eyes.

"Such lies—" I added, noting the flash of red on his face, the indignation.

"I do not lie, Vivas," he growled, brushing the hair out of his face. "As fun as this has been, I have a party to get back to, and you've overstayed your welcome."

The change in the air started slowly, the dust that had been brought up sinking to the ground as Kri'Valta's eyes grew wide and flushed with a deepened gold. My hackles raised at the sight.

I took a deep breath.

"You don't consider me a threat, Kri'Valta?" I asked.

This was a dance I had perfected centuries ago, a sway that had been lost to the sands of time when I'd thrown out our violent ways. Kri'Valta saw himself as invincible, untouchable.

A king. A god .

"I'd have to go with no, Vivas, you're not," Kri'Valta said, shaking his head. "Does that change your path tonight?"

Thoughts of Aaliyah flitted through my mind, her soft eyes and the touch I longed for. The same breath brought images of my brothers, the ones I'd abandoned for this goal, to save her. The numb was my only company.

A million times I'd do it again.

I let my hand rest easily by my side. "No, it does not."

"Figured. Don't suppose I can convince you to die quietly? I don't want to interrupt my guests," he said, a flash of fire arcing toward me. Little more than a parlor trick that stopped as soon as it started, swallowed by my Flame . Kri'Valta grinned. "You won't win, you know. Even if you kill me, and that spry upstart Alderi takes over. You don't have all the pieces to this puzzle, Osiris, and even the Kingslayer can't stop what he can't see."

Kri'Valta moved then, every ounce of his power, every year that had led to that strength behind him as he charged forward.

Every battle he'd seen and conquered.

Every war he'd waged on the winning side.

Every victory that led to his inevitable defeat.

A year ago, this fight would have been his. Tonight, it would be mine. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Whatever it takes.