Page 14

Damas

Resurrected demon inhabiting

King Fachnan’s corpse

D amas paced the floor of what was once the atrium gardens, now carpeted with overgrown grass and blood, while dragging his rotting leg behind him. He was angry with Gordin for deceiving him and even angrier with himself for believing it. His body still reeked of decay after taking the useless potion Gordin had given him. The potion had been nothing more than the blood of a virgin. Perhaps the potion had worked on the Mistress, for she was a Lamashtu, and that species of demon subsisted on blood, but Damas needed more. Much more. Before long, he would unravel like a frayed stocking. His wyvern wasn’t recovering, either. He smelled like week-old fish that had sat too long in the sun. Damas wasn’t sure how much more of the stench he could take before he set the wyvern’s carcass aflame.

Perhaps the flames would scare away the demonlings. The spiders were still in the castle, having stripped Damas of his throne room after building a webbed nest there. They had already eaten every creature in the city and now were sucking dry the roots of the once magnificent tree growing in the center of the castle. The tree’s blackened branches sagged, sadly dragging the ground like a dragon with snapped wings. The tree would fall in a matter of days, bringing the castle with it. Damas secretly hoped it would crush every last demonling in the process.

He continued pacing while staring out of the gaping holes in the glass ceiling, hoping Gordin returned soon with food. He was famished. When he took a bite of a rotten apple, he cried out as two teeth fell out, disintegrating before hitting the ground.

He gave a start at the sound of ruffling wings, then snarled when Gordin appeared before him. Curse that ugly demon and his teleporting abilities. He still couldn’t get over the appearance of the Mistress’s general. One side of his face looked like a melted ball of wax. He had no hair on that side and a hole where an ear should’ve been. But the other side of his face looked like a typical Ravini male, dark features and hair and those black, feathered wings. Damas had always been jealous of feathered wings, a beautiful contrast to the batlike sails in his Nephilim form, thicker than a dragon’s wings with more protruding veins.

“Where have you been?” he snapped, motioning toward the wyvern who lay in the center of the floor, a moan rising up from the beast’s concaved chest. Shamadi deserved better. He’d been a fearless and wickedly cunning demon back in their old world.

“Hunting.” Gordin grabbed a big, beautiful fish out of his pack, tossing it to Damas.

Damas let the fish fall at his feet, fearing he’d lose his limbs if he tried to catch it. “We’re not getting better,” he said with a snarl while stepping over the fish. “A white witch could’ve healed us by now.”

Gordin crossed his arms, his smile a wicked slash on his half-melted face. “Then go to the white witch and ask her to heal you.”

Damas flashed his teeth while the rotting blood in his veins heated with ire. “Get us a better potion from the Mistress. The sinew on this body is barely holding together.” Damas motioned toward one limp and rotting wrist that looked ready to snap off. “It will not withstand a shift.”

Gordin rubbed his chin while walking a circle around Damas. “The potion didn’t work because you’re too far gone. You need a new body.”

Damas shook his head. He didn’t want a new body. He wanted them to fix this one! “Where is there another king?”

“You do not need a king.” Gordin chuckled as he picked up the fish off the floor and dusted dirt off its scales before tossing it onto a nearby table.

Damas was so angry, he fought the urge to thrust his sword through Gordin’s back, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to wield the heavy iron weapon. “My army won’t follow me.”

Laughing like a cackling crow, Gordin tossed his hands in the air. “Your army already deserted you!”

“I will not settle for anything less than a king!” Damas hollered, fearing his bones would break if he threw a fit of rage. He had to be a king, for a king didn’t serve another king. A king served only himself.

“You’re a fool.” Gordin shook his head, scowling at Damas as if he was a lowly demi-demon. “Why is it so important you find a king, anyway?”

Damas averted his gaze, nervous energy rattling his bones. “I already told you I need to be able to command an army.”

“No, you don’t.” Snapping his black, feathered wings open, Gordin closed the distance between them until they were standing nearly toe-to-toe. He wrinkled his nose while scowling at Damas’s rotting skin. “You serve our mistress now.”

“Neither of us will be serving her for long.” Damas’s bones rattled harder, dread turning his decomposed innards to mush. “I will need my own army to defend myself against him .”

Gordin arched his one brow, the other side of his face sloping with the movement. “Against whom?”

Afraid to speak even his unfamiliar name, Damas swallowed and looked away. “Y-you don’t know?”

“Tell me.” Gordin’s command came out on a threatening rumble as he tucked his wings behind his back.

“Th-the one they call The Darkness,” Damas stammered, then shrank back, as if the demon king would materialize in this very spot.

Rage flared in Gordin’s eyes as the rest of his features hardened. “He isn’t in this world.”

“If he isn’t, he will be very soon.” Damas took a big step back, afraid Gordin would lash out at him with his fires. “He’s discovered the Mistress’s portal.”

Gordin’s eyes widened. “How?”

Damas took another step back while eyeing Gordin’s hands that had curled into claws. “It was only a matter of time before he found out. The Darkness sees everything. When I left hell, he was gathering demons to accompany him to the Fae realm.”

The color drained from Gordin’s face. “He will punish all of us if he comes here.”

Damas licked his parched lips. “Now you understand why I need an army.”

* * *

Shiri

M Y TEARS HAD DRIED up a few hours ago as I lay in the swinging bed I’d shared with my mates. The sheets still smelled like them, an intoxicating blend of sulfur and spice. I snuggled against the blanket that smelled so much like Drae, with a blend of sage that was all his own. I’d even gathered a few stray feathers to press against my bosom. How I longed for my mates to return to me. I was supposedly one of the two strongest witches in the world, and I couldn’t do this without my mates. I had no idea if Blaze and Nikkos lived, and Drae was lost to me, my magic too weak to save him.

What must he be thinking, trapped inside a body that he couldn’t control? Was he disappointed in me for failing him? Did he believe the demon, that I had a darkness clinging to me? Did he regret bonding with me and curse the Elements for choosing me as his mate? I prayed he was still in there, for the alternative was far worse. What if that demon had already discarded his soul?

Sister.

I cringed when Tari’s voice echoed in my skull. After crawling up the rope ladder into the bed I’d shared with my mates, I’d heard her and Helian and the children in the other room. I’d heard Isa and Radnor stomping around outside too. So far, they had all respected my request for time alone. I blinked in the darkness. The sun had already set, leaving behind a few wisps of pink rays that spilled into my swinging cocoon. It would be supper time soon, but I couldn’t go downstairs and face my family. Not after I’d failed to save our mates.

Sister , she repeated. Are you awake?

I rolled onto my side, wiping the grit from my eyes. I want to be alone.

I understand. Her voice dropped to a soothing whisper. But Malvolia sent us a summons. They found Mortimus’s head. The funeral is in a quarter hour.

Ugh. I rolled onto my back, draping an arm across my brow. As much as I loathed our aunt, I knew I couldn’t refuse her. There was enough bad blood between us. To dishonor Mortimus would be criminal in her eyes. I sat up, hanging my head in my hands, bemoaning my life. I didn’t want to leave this bed. Not now. Not ever. I just wanted to curl up in the soft blankets, pretending my mates were here with me and the demon threat was no more.

I gave a start when the bed shook and Tari crawled across the blankets to me. “How did you get up here?”

“My wind.” She frowned at the rope ladder curled up at the foot of the bed. “Want me to help you down?”

I looked away, unable to withstand the pity reflecting in her eyes. “I don’t want to go to the funeral.”

“She expects us to be there.” Tari clasped her hands, her tone imploring as she said, “I don’t want to go without you.”

I nodded as tears pricked my eyes. “I’m afraid my heart is impure, that I’m turning evil like our aunt.”

She scooted beside me, taking my hand in hers. “You’re not.”

I swiped away the tears that fell over my eyelids. “The demon that’s in Drae, he said he can see into my heart.” Shame washed over me as I dropped my voice to a hushed whisper. “He says he can see darkness clinging to me like a cloak.”

“And you believe a demon?”

“He wasn’t lying.” I looked into her eyes, relieved to see no censure there, just shock. “I used my siren on him.”

“So?” She squeezed my hand. “Are you not entitled to feel depressed? To be sad that your mates are gone and your other mate is possessed?” She released my hand and pulled her knees to her chest. “Don’t forget, I, too, was consumed by darkness when I thought I’d lost my mates. I was a negligent mother because of it, but you took over and loved them as if they were your own. That’s not evil. That is pure love from a pure heart.” Her eyes glistened as she grasped my knee. “And now that pure heart is shattered. Don’t confuse darkness with wickedness. We’ve all embraced the darkness. You will find your way back into the light. I promise.”

“Oh, sister.” I couldn’t stop the tears that flowed freely down my face. “You don’t know what your words mean to me.”

I shuddered in relief when she threw her arms around me, kissing my forehead. “I love you.”

I squeezed her tight, so grateful for physical contact now that my mates were gone. “And I love you.”

“Princesses,” a shrill servant’s voice called from below, “the queen awaits.”

“Speaking of the darkness,” Tari said wryly.

It was a struggle to unclench my teeth. I wasn’t looking forward to this, but I knew Tari was dreading it even more. I only hoped my horny aunt kept her hands off Helian during the funeral.

* * *

Shiri

A FTER DRESSING TARI , the girls, and me in black gowns and Helian in a matching tunic, the servants ushered us to a hall at the other end of the castle. Moonlight filtered through the tall leaded glass windows, revealing our three dragons circling above a funeral pyre that appeared to be covered in plants.

The girls ran to the windows, tapping on the glass and waving to the dragons, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. They squealed when Isa’s roar carried down to us.

I tensed and Tari cursed at the sound of clicking shoes. Helian quickly went to the window, pretending to be engrossed in watching the dragons outside. Imagine my surprise when I turned and saw our mother and Father Marius approaching, both also dressed in all black.

Father Marius went straight for me, kissing my cheek, his wingtips tickling my back as he wrapped an arm around me. “How are you faring, child?”

I stepped behind Marius when Mother approached, appearing as if she, too, wanted to kiss my cheek. There was no mistaking the dejection in her eyes. Twenty-three years of wary looks and limited physical contact, and suddenly she wanted to show affection?

“As well as can be expected.” I grasped Marius’s arm, forcing a smile. “You?”

His features fell. “Same.”

“Mother, Father Marius,” Tari said, kissing their cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

Mother’s lips twisted into a familiar snarl. “We weren’t given a choice.”

“How is Father Derrick?” Tari asked.

“Still sleeping,” Marius answered.

Tari chewed her lip, her shoulders falling. “His demon is waiting for the right moment.”

Mother paled. “To do what?”

“I don’t know.”

Mother turned on me, impatience in her gaze. “When will you get that demon out of him?”

I was grateful there wasn’t the usual virulence behind her words, though I feared she was simply a snake waiting for the right moment to strike. “Believe me, Mother, I’m trying.”

“I know you are, Shiri.” Her shoulders fell as she glanced from Marius to me. “I’m so worried about him. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

Ahh. So Marius was making her play nice. “It’s okay.” Bitter laughter erupted from my throat. “I’m used to it.”

Mother’s jaw dropped, and she made sputtering noises until Aurora interrupted, tugging on Tari’s skirts. “My shoes are too tight.”

“I’m sorry, dearest.” Tari knelt in front of Aurora, frowning while examining Aurora’s shiny leather shoes. “We’ll take them off after the funeral.”

Aurora went boneless against her mother, her mouth hanging in a pout. “But it hurts to walk.”

Ember patted her sister’s back while sucking on her thumb.

“Do you want Yaya to carry you?” Mother asked while smiling down at Aurora.

Aurora scowled up at her grandmother as if she was a flatulating troll. “No.”

“Come on, darling.” Mother held her hands down to Aurora, her smile appearing frozen in place. “I won’t bite.”

Scratching the back of her head, Aurora looked from her grandmother to Ember. “But you usually carry Em.”

My heart broke for Aurora, for I knew exactly how she felt, though I had hoped that she’d been too young to notice Yaya had always favored Ember.

Mother’s smile faltered. “I want to carry you .”

Aurora tilted her head, squinting at her grandmother. “Why?”

Mother blew out a long breath, and I knew she was growing frustrated with Aurora. “Because you’re my grandbaby.”

Aurora frowned, pressing into her mother’s legs. “I’m not a baby.”

“Darling,” Mother pleaded, opening her arms wide, “Yaya would love to hold you.”

Aurora vehemently shook her head. “I want Mama to hold me.”

Mother gave Tari a murderous look when she stood, hoisting Aurora onto her hip.

Before she could protest, a servant loudly cleared her throat while opening the door to the adjoining courtyard. “Your Highnesses, the queen will receive you now.”

“Come on,” I said, taking Ember in my arms when she tugged on my skirts.

Marius placed a hand on Mother’s lower back, whispering loudly in her ear. “Let’s get this over with, so we can return to Derrick.”

Pain flashed in her eyes, and for a moment, I felt sorry for her. I also mourned the relationship we’d never had, the hugs and kindness she’d never given me. It was too late to relive my childhood. Not that I’d want to. All I cared about now was my future, hopefully with my three mates.

The girls squealed when we walked outside and were hit with a blast of cold northern air. I held Ember tight, rubbing warmth into her arms while wishing we had my mates to keep us warm. I was jealous of Tari who pressed into Helian. We followed the servant across a short cobblestone path and ended up on a paved walkway lined with stoic firemages standing wingtip to wingtip. Their palms faced up, producing glowing flames that lit up the night and warmed our walk.

The walkway snaked toward the platform where Malvolia stood as still as a statue, her gaze fixed on the cloth-draped corpse atop the pyre opposite her.

Ember sucked on her thumb while watching the firemage guards with curiosity. She pulled her thumb out of her mouth, blinking at me. “They look like my uncles.”

I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, but they’re not.”

She rested her head against my shoulder with a sigh. “I miss them.”

It took all my willpower not to collapse onto that path and give in to my tears. “So do I, darling,” I rasped.

Isa roared. How are your spirits, Goddess?

I looked up at the three winged shadows circling in the starry night sky. I’m worried I won’t be able to get the demon out of Drae.

You will , she answered, her wings coming to a standstill as she soared directly above me. I have faith in you.

Though it should’ve comforted me, my chest ached at the thought of my dragon having faith in me. I’d already failed to get the demon out of Wolfy. What if I failed again? I didn’t want to disappoint her too. But what if I can’t?

She flapped again, dipping lower, so that I could see her soft golden underbelly shimmering in the pale moonlight. Then a wyvern will volunteer as sacrifice.

I shifted Ember in my arms as a shot of venom went straight to my heart. I don’t want it to come to that.

We reached the dais stairs, and I was hit by the sweet smell of lavender. The entire platform was surrounded by it.

I know you don’t , Isa answered. This is why you have a pure heart, Goddess, and don’t believe otherwise. A dragon knows.

I nearly stumbled over my own clumsy feet as we reached the bottom step.

Helian grabbed my elbow. “You okay?” he asked as he took Ember from my arms.

I gaped at him. “I-I think so.” Was Isa just trying to cheer me up, or did she truly believe I could extract Drae’s demon?

I don’t lie to stoke your ego, Goddess. Her voice was a dark rumble rolling through my skull before she flew away in a huff, shooting across the sky like a falling comet. Just lovely. I must’ve projected that last thought to her.

Now you’ve done it. Radnor’s dark chuckle reverberated in my mind. Don’t ever doubt Isa. A dragon’s word is her honor.

Go eat dirt, Radnor , I snapped, in no mood for a scolding from him.

He chuckled louder, then flew after Isa. Triss made little roars of protest while following her parents.

I followed my parents up the dais with Helian and Tari behind me, and we took our place behind Malvolia, who stood as still as a block of ice, the hood of her long, black robe drawn low, so that I could only see her pinched mouth. We had a clear view of the platform from here. More firemages circled the pyre, their glowing hands poised to light the brush and timber beneath the platform. Mortimus’s body was draped in cloth and covered in more lavender bushes, though it didn’t mask the smell of rotting horse corpse soaked in sea water. The fumes practically burned my nostrils and seared my brain. Knowing there wasn’t enough lavender to wash that stench from my memory, I covered my mouth and nose with my hand, breathing through a wheeze.

Aurora buried her face against her mother’s chest. “It smells bad,” she said too loudly.

“Shh,” Tari said while stroking her child’s hair. “That’s not polite.”

“But it does,” Aurora cried. “Can I teleport to the nursery?”

“No,” Tari admonished. “Plug your nose.”

Tari gave me a hopeless look, then scowled at Malvolia’s backside. I hope she hurries.

My family moved aside when two figures in dark purple robes walked onto the dais. Though their hoods were also drawn low, I recognized Cassandra’s lovely smile as she passed her grandchildren. Her lover, Gadea, was with her, a crown of lavender atop her hooded head. Her full lips were pressed into a firm line, the rest of her ebony skin concealed by the cloak, save for her arms that were crossed in front of her, as if she, too, were a corpse upon the pyre.

Gadea stood before the queen, bowing low. “My Queen, before we begin, would you like to say a few words about Mortimus?”

Malvolia pulled back the hood of her cloak, her icy stare sending a shiver down my spine. “No.”

“It’s customary—” Gadea continued.

“Light the fire!” Malvolia shrieked like a dragon with a spear through her chest.

The surrounding firemages hit the pyre at once, flames arcing off their hands in perfect, symmetrical formation as if they’d been practicing for this their entire lives. Maybe they had, and there was some special unit of firemages assigned to pyre duty. Shadows eclipsed my heart as I longed for my mates. If they’d been here, they could’ve explained it.

Gadea removed a scroll from her robes and unfurled it before stepping to the edge of the platform. “Goddess,” she called aloud, “we give you the faithful Areion, Mortimus, who bravely served our queen as her familiar up until his tragic death. We ask that you take him beyond the veil and safeguard his soul until he can be reunited with his queen.”

The flames below Mortimus slowly enveloped his body, adding the stench of burned horseflesh to the cornucopia of rancid smells.

I watched Malvolia, who stood there unmoving, and wondered if she had any blood flowing to her withered heart. I couldn’t let myself become like her. I wouldn’t let myself become like her. My aunt was the very definition of impure heart. Had all that talk about that pain she felt, the shattering in her soul every waking minute of every day been sincere? Did she truly mourn Mortimus, or did she only mourn the loyalty he’d shown her?

“Please bow your heads and recite the prayer of eternal slumber with me,” Gadea said, her deep voice caring over the distant roar of the ocean waves and the crackling of burning logs. “In life, these dreams we make. In death, our spirits wake. To the Elements, we ask our souls to take. Amen.”

We recited the prayer together as we watched the flames rise higher, thick smoke rising with it.

In a dramatic flourish of robes, Malvolia descended the stairs without another word, marching along the path back to the castle with urgent strides.

I shared a confused look with Tari as my family slowly descended the dais, following our reticent aunt.

“Please accompany your queen to the great hall for the wake,” a servant called behind us.

Ugh. Tari’s groan echoed in my head. Will this night ever end?

I cringed at that while casting one last glance at the pyre behind us. I was ashamed to admit I’d never really liked that horse, though I thought he somehow deserved better than this hasty funeral. I wondered why my aunt hadn’t said a tribute. Was it because she didn’t care enough about her familiar? Or was there a more sinister reason, like maybe she knew she’d be joining him soon, anyway?