Page 8 of Queen of the Wicked (Afterlife #1)

Erebos

I t had to be another mile or so until they reached the witch’s cottage.

The mortal, better known as Alessia, was knocked out in his arms—her body as cold as ice.

His teeth had chattered the entire way, desperate to get her out of his grasp, but he needed to make it there.

He needed answers. Quickly. Especially since he was lightheaded himself, barely able to make it to the cottage made of stone with the thatch roof ahead.

He had none of his immortal strength, so his legs ached by the time he collapsed onto the dusty front porch. A raven was perched on the rail, cocking its head and narrowing its beady eyes as it assessed the situation laid before it.

“Allegra, it’s me,” he said between labored breaths. “Help me. Please.”

He was in no mood to be the arrogant, comical lord today. All of his energy left last night at that forsaken house. Alessia’s house. He was still trying to catch his breath when the raven shifted into the old woman he’d had the joy of speaking with countless times over the decades.

Her wrinkled skin seemed to sag more each time he saw her, and the cunning eyes on the raven were the same on her human form. She cocked her head to the side as she had done just seconds ago, raking her eyes over Alessia’s body. “Who is she, boy?” she grunted.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

The cane she held for centuries thumped on top of the rickety porch. “Well, don’t just stand there. Get her inside. I’ll take a look.”

The short, frail woman watched as he rose on shaky limbs and picked Alessia up into his arms once more. His teeth still chattered as he carried her inside, and not even the raging fire from the hearth could stop it.

Allegra pointed a wrinkly finger at a wooden table next to the tiny, worn-down kitchen.

Shelves lined the walls with different potions, skulls, herbs, and bones, but he refrained from looking at any of them.

Witchcraft had always been a powerful source of magic—one not even he could understand at times.

It dated back to before he was even created, and the stories Allegra had shared with him had chilled him to the very core of whatever soul he had left.

Bottom line? He didn’t mess with witches, and he would always respect them. He suspected that Allegra could turn him into dust with a single glance, given the old power she carried. It was precisely why he trusted her with what he was about to confess.

“I don’t have my powers anymore,” he said.

The old witch paused beside Alessia, her face remaining blank as he went into detail about the events that occurred last night and the altercation with the seraph. “She had another episode about two hours ago before she fainted.”

Pushing her long silver braided hair over one shoulder, Allegra leaned down to inspect Alessia, placing a palm to her forehead. With her crooked nose, she sniffed a whiff of the air around her, furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion.

“What is it?” he asked impatiently.

“So very interesting…” she muttered more to herself than to him. “I cannot read her. Not at all.”

“But you can read everyone,” he replied. “You are versed in the oldest magic known to all the realms. How can you not read her?”

She clicked her tongue and placed a hand on Alessia’s chest. “Perhaps she is newly made. A new creature set upon the earth. Sent from Heaven.”

Heaven had been known recently for releasing unworldly creatures upon Earth to see just how much damage they could do. Heaven wasn’t what it used to be, and lately, things had taken a turn for the worse. The creatures up there were said to be worse than in Hell, and if they’d come to Earth…

“You truly cannot read her?” he asked.

“No, but I can give her a potion to wake her up. I’ve dealt with your fallouts before, and if you think this is similar to what you’ve experienced, then it should work.”

He didn’t have any other explanation for what happened two hours ago, no matter how hard he tried to forget it. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that she bore his powers, but rather than glistening black eyes, hers turned nothing but the color of blood—Crimson red.

He instructed her how to calm down from it—how he typically refrained from going over the edge, and it worked like a charm. His powers lived inside of her. He was sure of it.

And the thought of someone harboring his powers, taking them without a second thought…

He’d studied dark magic and the history of it his entire life, trying to dissect why he was born this way and thrust into a life he never asked for, but he never came across this scenario in the tomes housed in the castle’s library.

“Do you think it’s reversible?” he asked softly.

Allegra glanced over her shoulder as she sifted through the potions, casting a wry grin in his direction. “I cannot be certain. You would be better off going to the Seeker for such information.”

He chuckled. The Seeker was an old urban legend of a demon who lived in the depths of the pits in Hell on the lowest level. Rumor said it could answer any question asked. It was the being that knew all. “Are you casting a death wish upon me?”

“You are the Lord of Hell, Erebos. Are you telling me you’re afraid of the pits?”

“I’m not afraid of the pits,” he replied tersely. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t fear the creatures. He’d dealt with many demons over his lifespan, but the Seeker was something that would terrify even the strongest of warriors. “Besides, I cannot go anywhere until she wakes up.”

“Indeed. I’ve got the potion right here.” She lifted a green liquid and popped a cork off the top, bringing it to Alessia’s lips. “All things considered, your traveling companion could be worse. You are highly favored with this one, Your Majesty. And the scent…”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring her comment entirely.

He’d have to be blind not to recognize Alessia’s beauty, but that was irrelevant when there were bigger things at stake.

This mortal girl took his powers, and both realms of Earth and Hell were relying on him to save them.

This was the last thing he needed to deal with, and he mentally cursed whoever sent him that letter in the first place to retrieve her.

Alessia should have been somebody else’s problem.

“She should wake in a few hours. In the meantime, take a seat by the fire. I’ll whip you up some oatmeal.”

Normally, he’d protest it, but he was utterly exhausted, so he collapsed into one of the rocking chairs beside the hearth and placed a quilt over his lap.

In a few hours, Alessia would wake up, and since Allegra couldn’t help, they’d have to travel to Hell and find the Seeker. A task that wouldn’t be easy.

There hadn’t been a pure and true god for centuries, but right now, he was praying to one.