Demon Reign, page 13
part #4 of Demons of Morningstar Series
“You’re allowed some happiness, Sev. You were treated like shit, so it’s only natural to want to forget for a while.”
His fingers curled around my hands, and he gently drew them away from his face. “But no more. We’ll find a way to get them out.”
I allowed my lips to curl in a cold smile. “Once he’s convicted of attempted murder, I’m sure the princes will convince him to burn the contract that allows him to keep the maras.”
“A contract?”
“Yes. Ramiel told me. It’s the only reason they haven’t been able to take the maras away from him. Ramiel admitted they realize it was a mistake to gift the maras to him.”
“But does Umbrane have to be the one to burn the contract?” Sev asked.
“I…I don’t know.”
“We need to find out. If it’s just a case of destroying it…” His silver eyes lit up. “Maybe we can find a way to get to it?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Sev said. “But right now, we have an assassin to trap.”
Twenty-Seven
Sev was good at the stealth stuff. I couldn’t sense him trailing me, and at one point, I was tempted to call out and check that he was there, but that would blow his cover, so I kept my mouth shut, trusting that he had my back.
The corridors were empty and silent at this time of night, which left plenty of opportunity for an attack to occur. We’d agreed I’d go for my walk at one in the morning, and we’d agreed on the route too. One that had a secret passage in the walls so that Arty and Ignatius, guided by Nugen, could be close by.
Knowing I wasn’t alone didn’t take away from the nerves while I waited for the attackers to pounce. Not knowing what they looked like or what weapons they’d employ made it hard to plan a counterattack. Still, I had my blade strapped to a holster at my waist and hidden beneath my bathrobe. Yep, I’d gone for the whole impromptu walk in my pj’s thing.
I looked like easy prey.
Come on, fuckers. I’m all alone here. Come get me.
I took a left at the next intersection.
Nothing happened. No shadows. No prickle of awareness.
What if we were wrong? What if tonight wasn’t the night? The assassins could have changed their minds and—
The hairs on my nape quivered.
Danger.
Bingo.
There was a turning up ahead.
Time to slow my pace. Come on…
A figure jumped into my path and ran at me with a needle-blade knife. It was a demon, four foot in height and crimson all over. I let out a shocked yelp and sidestepped, but that one demon turned into two and blocked my path.
I jumped back, pulling my blade free of its holster just as Sev materialized in front of me like a shield. He swiped at the demons with his talons.
They leapt back to avoid getting sliced but couldn’t avoid being swept off their feet by his tail. They hit the ground and multiplied, becoming four, then six.
“Fuck!” I spun and slashed the air to ward them off.
Arty and Ignatius burst out of a tapestry up ahead and charged toward us, but there were so many tiny demons filling the corridor now that they’d have to fight their way through.
Ignatius’s hands lit up. He was going to fireball them.
“Don’t,” Nugen yelled. “You kill the wrong one and we lose our lead. Find the one with the blue mark on its neck.”
Blue mark. Okay. But it was hard to check for a mark when they were coming at me in a wave of blades, eager to get a stab in. These fuckers were relentless.
Sev kept his body between us, but he couldn’t stop them all. They slipped past, weaving between his legs. What were these things?
Ignatius and Arty were close but slowed down by their search for the demon with the blue mark.
“Nyx, watch out!” Zepar cried from behind me.
I spun in time to see a demon leaping at my face, needle blade aimed at my eye. My heart pulsed in my throat.
Sev shoved me out of the way, and the blade sank into his shoulder. He didn’t make a sound, simply grabbed the demon’s wrist and twisted it with a snap. The demon threw back its head and screamed, revealing a blue mark under his chin. Sev gripped the creature’s throat and squeezed until his eyes bugged. Half the demons in the corridor evaporated, leaving just a small bunch of them between Arty, Ignatius, Nugen, and us.
“Stop!” Nugen yelled at the mass of creatures. “Or your brother dies.”
Sev held the creature aloft and shook him.
The mass turned to look at us, then one by one they evaporated, leaving a single demon standing in the corridor.
“Let him be,” the demon said. “Ye put me kin down, ya bastard.”
An authoritative booming voice echoed down the corridor. “What is the meaning of this!” Ramiel bore down on us, two Minorax in tow. “What is this disturbance?”
“The wards,” Artimus said with a groan. “They must have picked up on the chaos.”
Ramiel joined us, taking in the scene, confusion etched across his features. “Seneschal, what is the meaning of this?”
“These chima just tried to kill Nyx,” Arty said coolly.
Ramiel frowned. “And you all happened to be close by?”
“We knew of the plot,” Zepar said. “We laid a trap to catch them.”
Ramiel’s whiskey eyes darkened in rage. “You knew of a plot against our chosen Satan, and yet you failed to inform me?”
“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Zepar said in disgust.
“Enough,” Ignatius snapped. “As secundum to Nyx, I authorized this coup. We had to keep the information within our circle of trust.” He looked Ramiel right in the eye as he said this, making it clear that the prince wasn’t in the circle.
Ramiel’s jaw ticked. “Very well. What’s done is done. But had this gone badly, it would have been your head on the block, Ignatius.”
“If you think you can have my head, Ramiel, then you’re more delusional than I thought. Need I remind you that I’m done taking orders from the fallen?”
“And yet you act as secundum for Sin.”
“For Nyx,” Ignatius said. “Only for Nyx.”
For fucksake. This was a waste of time. “We have the culprits, and Sev is bleeding. Can we just get on with this?”
Ramiel turned his attention to the chima, who stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
“Don’t hurt us,” he said. “We claim proxy.”
I looked to Nugen. “What does that mean?”
But it was Ramiel who answered. “It means they’re acting under contract for someone else and cannot be held liable for their actions.”
Devils then. “Where’s the contract?”
The chima looked at his brother trapped in Sev’s grip, then held out his hand. A scroll appeared across his palm, which he passed to Ramiel.
Finally, the truth would come out. Finally, Umbrane would get his comeuppance.
Ramiel opened out the scroll and read it quickly. His mouth tightened, and his nostrils flared. “This is unfortunate. I would not have expected this.”
“Umbrane is good at hiding his tracks,” Artimus said coolly.
Ramiel looked up sharply. “Umbrane? What has he to do with…” He looked down at the contract in his hand, then back up at us. “You thought Umbrane was the orchestrator?”
My pulse quickened. “He is. He wants me dead.”
Ramiel pressed his lips together. “Maybe so, but it isn’t his name on this contract.”
“What?” Artimus frowned. “Then who?”
“The contract is signed by Erinea.”
Twenty-Eight
HRATH
The female writhes beneath me, clutching on to my shoulders as our bodies meet. Her skin is slick with perspiration, her cunt a tight sheath around my cock, but I’m focused on her mouth and her breath as it filters into my body.
There is no emotion in this sexual act. No connection aside from a physical one. I prefer it that way. But sex produces a potent rich quality of willing breath that will sustain me longer. If I could survive without it, then I would. I can go months between feeds, but the trips across the hottest sands of the Court of Flame have drained me. I need fuel, and the female beneath me is more than willing.
Our lips are fused as I feed, and she pants and moans into my mouth, hips rising to meet mine over and over as she takes her pleasure and I take my fill of her willing breath.
There may not be emotion in this act, but there is pleasure. The tightening at the base of my spine, the tingling in my shaft as she rides it, but it isn’t pleasure I want from her. I’ve taken my fill of her breath, and I want this over. I grasp her hips and thrust, once, twice, hitting that place inside her that makes her cry out in release.
I give her a moment to ride the wave, then I withdraw.
“Hrath…” She reaches for me, dark, silken hair spilling across the white pillows like an inky river. But her face is oval, not heart-shaped, and her lips aren’t as plump and rosy as…
What am I doing?
Disgust claws at my chest because I can no longer deny why I chose her or who she reminds me of. The dark-haired succubus has haunted my subconscious ever since she offered me willing breath when we were trapped in the Old Forest. I declined her then because I hadn’t trusted myself to be close to her. She’s the only reason I’m able to harden for this female now.
Her expression closes off. She thinks I’m disgusted by her. I don’t have the energy or will to explain something I don’t yet understand myself.
“I’ll get dressed and leave,” she says stiffly.
I turn away and button my pants before striding out from beneath the canopy of my tent.
There’s a carriage waiting to take the djinn female back to the keep. No doubt she’ll tell the others how callous I am, and they’ll be lining up to prove her wrong. To be the one that can thaw my icy heart.
Little do they know I no longer have one.
The breach is a quarter of a mile away. A short flight, which I’ve been making daily in order to keep an eye on it. I don’t need to be here. There are efreet guards and conji on standby, but my gut tells me I must stay close.
It warns me that something is about to change. I always knew creating the Court of Flame to act as a haven was a bad idea. Our court is the only one that connects to all the demon realms; it’s supposed to be a Plan B if our world is attacked. Our court is to act like a sanctuary, housing all the inhabitants of the demon realms if need be because there are layers to our court, catacombs beneath the earth that extend for miles. A place we can live if the need arises, and the harsh climate above will help us ward off threat.
But being a haven comes with a cost. It makes the fabric of our court weaker than the others and now…Now the fawda have breached it.
I’m about to take to the air when a shadow appears on the horizon.
Ugar, my sylph brother, hurtles toward me.
My heart sinks. Something’s wrong.
He lands, and the vortex of air around him dissipates. “We have a problem.”
“Tell me.”
“The breach is shrinking.”
If it leads to the fawda as suspected, and if it vanishes, then we’ll never know where they’re camped. We won’t know who they’re working with or what they’re planning.
There’s only one thing to do. “I’m going in.”
“Hrath, you can’t. The spell isn’t ready, and Ignatius—”
“Will understand. This is our last and only chance.”
“If it closes with you on the other side, you’ll be trapped.”
I allow my lips to curve in a wicked smile. “I’ll find a way home.”
I’ll have to.
NYX
Ramiel took Zepar and Artimus to find Erinea and investigate the allegations, and we were ordered to remain in some empty guest quarters.
On the surface, the case looked cut and dried. Erinea’s name was on the chimas’ contract along with her blood. But unless she pled guilty, she’d be tried for attempted murder. No ordinary charge because the target had been me—the princes’ chosen Satan. If she was convicted, then she’d be executed.
I should be happy about it. The bitch had conspired to have me executed barely a week ago, but it was impossible to feel any satisfaction when I knew the real mastermind behind all this might give us the slip.
Umbrane would go free if the blame fell solely on Erinea’s shoulders.
There was no doubt in my mind that Erinea was merely a pawn in his game, but my reticence to have Erinea convicted was deeper than that. I’d seen the look on Mallini’s face earlier when Arty had revealed Erinea’s partnership with Umbrane. There’d been conflict in her eyes. She might say she hated her mother, but I couldn’t help but feel there was a part of her that wished things could be different.
If Erinea died, she’d never have the chance to make amends to her daughter, and Mallini would be left wondering what if?
Erinea was no friend of mine, but I loved Mallini, and she didn’t deserve to lose another member of her family.
So we waited in the opulent guest room decorated in cream and gold and furnished with comfortable sofas and cushioned chairs. A room occupied by several large imposing paintings of people that looked like they should be important.
There was one portrait that drew my attention. It was of a dark-haired man with storm-gray eyes. He was looking right out of the canvas at me. There was a smile playing on his lips as if he knew a secret. He was dressed in Morningstar colors, and a large pendant with a red gem in it hung around his neck.
“He was a regal male,” Ignatius said.
“Who was he?”
Ignatius looked at me in surprise. “Beelzebub.” He glanced back at the painting. “Your father.”
This was my father? This man who looked the same age as me? Bloody immortals.
Still, it was nice to put a face to the name. Did I look like him? I didn’t spend enough time staring at myself in the mirror to be able to tell for sure.
Almost an hour passed before Artimus finally returned with Dhuma in tow, which meant my siblings had been informed of what had happened.
“What’s happening out there?” Ignatius asked them.
“We found Erinea in a carriage outside the gates,” Arty said. “It looked like she was running even though she says she was headed to the market. They’re questioning her now. To give her credit, she looked stunned by the allegations.” He shook his head. “This is bullshit. She wouldn’t be so stupid as to tip me off about her plan to kill Nyx.”
“She has nothing to gain from doing that,” Ignatius agreed.
“Ramiel will figure that out,” Dhuma said.
I could tell that he was still annoyed about having to sit this one out. But his large size would have made navigating some of the passages in the wall difficult.
“I haven’t told Ramiel that Erinea came to see me,” Arty said. “It’s up to her to reveal her involvement with Umbrane. It’s in her best interests to do so, especially if she wants to assert that she was framed.”
“We should torture the chima,” Dhuma said. “They’re lying, and we can get the truth if we hurt them.”
“The conji fed them truth serum, and they still assert that Erinea came to them with the contract and signed it in blood.”
“So it must be her,” Ignatius said.
It made no sense. “She must have known that if we caught them, the contract would come to light.”
“It has to be a trick by Umbrane,” Sev said from his spot leaning up against a dining table. “But how did he pull it off?”
There was no way to know. The chima had been released. Proxy status meant they couldn’t be punished for attempted murder. Morningstar law was fucked up. I’d be changing that as soon as I took the throne.
Sev reached up to rub his shoulder. It was healing but slowly. The needle blade had been coated in a toxin which might have been lethal to me but was a minor irritant to a maras, simply slowing down the healing process. The wound wasn’t deep, thanks to his thick skin.
I parked my butt beside him and took his hand. If he hadn’t jumped in to take that blow, I’d have lost an eye.
He squeezed my fingers and looked across at me, opening his mouth to say something when the door to the room was flung open.
Zepar entered, his expression tight. “The princes want to see us all in the Convectus Locus. Now.”
Twenty-Nine
Oh, how I hated the assembly room. I’d been here a handful of times, and each experience had been awful. My first visit had been for the custodia choosing ceremony, and I’d ended up in the arena helping Sev fight off demibeasts. The second time had been after our first trial when we’d lost Charod. The third, and most recent time, was my trial, where I’d been found guilty of being an abomination, judged as too dangerous to let live, and almost executed by Levistus.
Yep, this room sucked.
But at least this time it wouldn’t be sucking for me.
Erinea stood in the judgment box, the same spot I’d been standing in a week ago. Her dark plumes were ruffled, her eyes red-rimmed, but she held her chin high and proud. I had to give her props for composure.
Ramiel and Levistus sat opposite her in their special throne-like seats, looking all powerful and groomed in tailored dark suits. Levistus’s golden hair gleamed in the chandelier light as if he’d given it a thousand strokes of a brush, and his eyes sparkled like gems against his alabaster skin. Ramiel’s chestnut locks were brushed back off his forehead, and they looked darker because they were wet. He’d obviously showered recently, and his skin had a dewy look to it. His whiskey eyes flicked my way briefly as Zepar led us across the room to the witness section.
It was strange standing on this side of the room. Strange not to be in the spotlight, but heck, I’d take it. There were wooden benches to sit on, but I chose to stand by the railing instead. Sev took the spot to my left, and Artimus stood to my right. Ignatius and Dhuma were close behind us, and Zepar stationed himself beside Sev.
