The Darkling's Kiss: Part Two: The Daemon Unleashed (The Daemon's Descendants Book 2)

by Charlie Richards

  “I’ll be able to find out if whoever summoned the minotaur schooled here. I’ll cross reference the travels of wizards with those of the dwarf Faldor. From this information I’ll create a list of leads to follow,” Kalylle explained tactfully.

  “We’ll need to deliberate on this. You’ll be notified in the morning by messenger. Thank you for your report, Kalylle. You’re dismissed.”

  Kalylle bowed deeply and left the chamber.

  * * * *

  She crushed the note. The information might have been nearly two days old, but still valid. Her heart raced. He’s coming here. Fear shot through her. She pushed it aside. I have time to prepare. I underestimated him and Kalylle before, but now the darkling will be alone. Smiling grimly, she flipped through the tome on the table. After several minutes of searching, her finger paused on a passage.

  She grinned, rising from the table. Leaving the small study, she found her two companions in the next room. “I need a large stone slab three feet wide, seven feet long, and two feet thick. And we must get it to Crood within three days.”

  Chapter Seven

  The night drifted past, and Philippe slept soundly. He woke to an overcast sky and thick gray clouds that promised rain. The coastal area often saw storms swept in from the ocean. Philippe rose, washed, and pulled a thin rope to call for a servant. He knew the other end attached to a bell in the kitchen.

  Before long, a gentle rap sounded on his door. When he opened it, he saw a young girl waiting. When he noticed her smile falter as she took in his unfamiliar appearance, Philippe managed to smile. Looking relieved, she quickly returned it. “How can I help you this morning, sir?”

  Continuing to show warmth he didn’t feel, he told her, “I’d like some food to break my fast. What do you offer?”

  This time she grinned and folded her hands in front of her, resting them on her blue and green dress. “The fruit is in season now, and my mother makes the best breads and cheeses!”

  Philippe nodded. “Will you bring me some of all three? I need enough for a day’s travel.”

  The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir!”

  He watched the young girl go. She skipped silently down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Hearing the soft creak from a floorboard in the room across the hall, he knew Feline had risen. Three strides had him standing at her door. He tapped gently.

  “Who is it?” Feline’s melodious voice asked warily through the door.

  Philippe nodded in approval. “Tanis.” He waited patiently as she unlocked the door and opened it. She stood fully dressed, her hair already carefully braided around her head.

  Feline smiled up at him. “Good morning,” she greeted.

  Philippe returned her greeting and led her back across the hall to his room. She stopped just inside the door, and Philippe could feel the tension radiating from her. Offering a smile, he pointed at one of the chairs at the small table. He seated himself across from her and poured her a glass of water. “I’ve ordered food from the kitchen. It should be here shortly, and then we will start back. We have a long ride ahead of us,” he reminded her.

  The elf woman nodded her understanding. “Thank you, Tanis, for taking me on this trip.”

  Philippe returned her nod, knowing he couldn’t share his reasons. They were his own. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he told her sincerely, “I hope I haven’t gotten you into any trouble back home.”

  His decision had been rash. Though most were wary of him due to his appearance, they still had a tendency to obey his orders. He figured it was due to a mix of fear and either the angel or daemon blood running through his veins. Philippe didn’t know which. He did his best to avoid ordering others as he never knew what outcome it could have.

  A light tapping announced the arrival of their meal. He rose and took the tray from the girl. After giving the smiling child several coins, he set the tray laden with fruit, bread, and cheese on the table. The girl’s mother had been generous, giving him enough to last several days. After they’d eaten their fill, Philippe stored the remainder in his saddlebags and led the way to the livery. They mounted and headed back the way they’d come.

  They rode slowly, steadily, but still evening had fallen by the time they arrived at the forest. Locating the lift, they rose into the trees and stepped out onto a deserted street.

  “Would you like me to escort you home?” Philippe asked quietly. At Feline’s hesitation, he smiled. “To your street then.”

  She nodded.

  At Feline’s instruction, they navigated the hanging bridges. Finally, she came to a stop. “I live up this path,” she whispered, indicating to the left.

  Philippe smiled tightly. “Stay well, Feline.”

  Feline nodded as she stared into his eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something. Instead, to Philippe’s surprise, she stepped forward and lightly brushed her lips against his.

  Taken by surprise, the kiss seared its way into Philippe’s blood, loosening his control. The daemon in him reacted first. Philippe wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He tilted his head and sealed his lips over Feline’s, demanding that she respond to his kiss. As soon as she gasped, opening, and he dipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her sweetness, Philippe realized what he did.

  He quickly lifted his head and released her, taking two steps backward. His eyes narrowing, he sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, then another, as he struggled to control his daemon lust. The image of him grabbing Feline, pulling her into a nearby dark hollow between homes, and pinning her to the wall so he could ravish her filled his mind.

  Knowing he needed to focus on something else, anything else, Philippe closed his eyes. He pulled up a memory of Kalylle, his pale brow arched aristocratically and a stern tilt to his thin lips. Just that quickly, he felt calmer, more relaxed. While he couldn’t do anything about the desire simmering through his body, he no longer felt any need to slake his lust with the elven woman before him.

  Philippe reopened his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d re-caged his inner daemon so quickly. While feeling grateful for the odd occurrence, he couldn’t help feeling a bit uneasy at the same time. What was it about the wizard that could cause such a thing?

  Feline stared at him with wide eyes, her surprise obvious. After a few seconds, she blinked and whispered, “I’m so sorry. That was foolish of me.”

  Philippe jerked a nod. “Good evening, Feline,” he offered, taking another step backward, slipping further into the shadows. “Off you go.”

  After glancing around, Feline pulled her cloak tighter around herself and headed down the wooden pathway she’d indicated.

  Turning away, Philippe began leading the horses back the way he’d come. “Thank you,” he heard her whisper. When he glanced over his shoulder, his sharp night vision caught just the hem of her cloak disappearing around the bend.

  Philippe continued on his way, returning to the palace. The walk allowed him to cool his daemon blood, easing the last of his lust. By the time he returned the borrowed animal to the palace stables, Philippe once again felt…not relaxed really, but in control, at least.

  A voice from the darkness startled him. “I wondered if you’d keep your promise.”

  Philippe watched Deantmore separate from the shadows. “And now that I have?”

  “I am curious,” the elf admitted, pausing to rub a friendly horse’s nose.

  Philippe knew better than to walk away. He wouldn’t make it out of the trees without Deantmore’s blessing. Watching the elf, Philippe used his extra senses to search the other man’s feelings.

  Reserved, curious, controlled, but not hostile.

  “Why would you take one of our women away from the protection of the trees?”

  “She had some questions about the world,” Philippe answered slowly. Hell, he wasn’t about to tell the elf that he felt a compulsion from his angel.

  Deantmore’s eyes narrowed. “And you had the answers?”
<
br />   Irritation filled Philippe, but he fought to keep the scowl from his lips. “Yes,” he replied evenly.

  “And is that the only education you gave her?”

  A slow smile spread across Philippe’s face as the elf’s meaning registered. “It is.” At the man’s disbelieving look, he chuckled coldly. “Though you may not believe it, not all of us find elven women irresistible.”

  “That’s not what it looked like when you dropped her off.”

  The comment had his brows shooting up. Not good to be so distracted. “She thanked me. A part of me enjoyed it. I walked away. End of story.”

  “Glad to hear that,” Deantmore said, his lips curving into a rueful smile. “Her husband is rather jealous.”

  Though Philippe realized it was the elf’s way of lightening the mood, he shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know her name, and she doesn’t know mine. If I can help it, I’ll never see her again.”

  “If you can help it?” The elf frowned, walking beside Philippe as he headed out of the stable. “What does that mean?”

  Taking slow, steady breaths to keep his irritation in check, he chose his words carefully. “Kalylle thinks very highly of you. Do you also value his judgment?” Upon seeing the elf nod, he smiled tightly at him. “Then trust his judgment, for he knew what I was doing and didn’t try to stop me. I don’t attach myself to women, nor do I allow them to attach themselves to me.”

  He’d reached the lift. It opened at his touch.

  “Why?” the elf asked, his eyes sparkling. “Is it because they don’t have the parts that interest you?”

  Phillipe paused and turned to face Deantmore. “Parts isn’t the issue.”

  Deantmore hummed, his lips splitting into a wide grin. “Really? Kalylle finally found someone trustworthy who doesn’t play games. It’s about damn time. He’s been alone too long.” Slapping Kalylle’s shoulder, he added, “Congratulations.” Then he walked away.

  Frowning, Philippe stared after the elf for several seconds. Shaking his head, he turned and entered the lift. As he rode it down to the forest floor, he wondered what kind of man would be happy his friend had left his sister only to end up with a half-breed thief.

  Philippe had no idea.

  It wasn’t until he stood on the forest floor that his chest began to loosen. Alone at last. He sighed, relief and calm filling him. It always amazed him how sometimes he didn’t realize he’d been missing something until he enjoyed it again. Letting out a deep breath, he peered up at the dark canopy of trees. Again, his thoughts went to Kalylle. He’d become accustomed to the man’s presence. When had he begun to find it soothing?

  Shaking his head at his musings, Philippe climbed into the saddle and headed south. Crood was at least six days’ travel, even on a fast horse. He’d told Kalylle to expect him in less than a moon’s cycle, so he had to hurry. He hoped he could get the information he needed in time.

  Seven days later, pausing beneath a thatch of trees, Philippe stared at the city spread out before him. The waves coming in off the bay sparkled in the fading light. It had been a while since he’d visited Crood, and it had grown. The buildings now crept up the bowl-like sides around the bay, the pale green stone of the roads appearing like limbs of asparagus ferns.

  Deciding his direction, the thief headed into the city. Riding through the narrow streets, he found the tavern he wanted. He tied his horse out front and climbed the two steps to the establishment. Although shorter than the low ceiling, he still felt the urge to duck his head. Rough, wooden tables filled the crowded room.

  The place hadn’t changed.

  Philippe almost smiled.

  He wove between tightly packed tables, his cloak pulled close, and found a small table that allowed him to watch both his horse through a dirty, front window and the room around him.

  He’d only been seated a few minutes when someone interrupted him.

  “Kristof.”

  Philippe tilted his head and met the gaze of the woman who seated herself across from him.

  “Satish,” Philippe whispered in surprise. It didn't matter that his human or angel parts didn't find her attractive. He recognized beauty when he saw it. The problem was that Satish knew it, too.

  She smiled across the table at him. “It's been a long time,” the stunning blonde whispered huskily. “I’d almost given up hope.”

  He stared at the woman. Slowly, Philippe's lips curved into a smile. “I should’ve known you wouldn't hold a grudge.”

  “How could I when it was my fault?” she asked quietly. “You warned me. I pushed you.”

  He nodded, remembering that night nearly twelve years before. “I did at that,” he whispered, staring at the table. His gaze returned to her. “I almost killed you,” he reminded her, his tone sad.

  She shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Hmm.” Impressed, Philippe couldn’t believe she’d recognized him after so long. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “How’d you know it was me?” Fully cloaked, his hood up, he needed to know how she’d spotted him.

  She grinned. “I told you before that I love your hips. You have a very sexy walk.”

  His lips curved into a smile. He scoffed, nodding. “How long have you been working here?”

  “A while. Times are tough.”

  Philippe didn't agree, but his line of work differed greatly from hers. She glanced around the tavern swiftly before refocusing on him. A tingle of awareness shot through him, and he realized his sixth sense was at it again. Narrowing his eyes, although he knew she couldn't see his expression, Philippe scowled at her. He’d felt her unease as she’d glanced around the room and knew this wasn’t just a social visit.

  “What is it you want, Satish?”

  The blonde across from him nibbled her lip, and her face flushed pink. “I never could figure out how you could read me so well.”

  Philippe knew that wouldn’t change either. He told very few about his ability to read emotions, normally only as a last resort.

  “Well?” he growled, making his warning clear.

  She hesitated, then leaned forward. “There are three men sitting at the bar. They’ve been waiting for you.” She paused, her voice growing strained. “I…I have a daughter now. They threatened to harm her if I didn’t point you out.”

  Glancing covertly at the men she’d indicated, he took in their features. He didn’t recognize any of them. The first, a thickly built male with well-muscled arms and legs, wore the clothes of a warrior. His traveling cloak partially concealed leather armor and leggings. Philippe spotted the hilt of a sword. The second man appeared thin, wiry almost. His clean-shaven head told the thief that this man most likely had religious training in his background. That meant he could be very skilled in hand to hand combat. The third man had his back to him. Other than his black, curly hair, the only thing of note was the unusual symbol on the man’s large ring, which the stranger wore on the middle finger of his left hand resting on the bar. From across the room, it looked a little like a deformed goat head. Fangs protruded from the upper lips with horns curved forward.

  Finally, Philippe’s gaze returned to the woman sitting across from him. “Then you’d best point me out to them. I’m not going anywhere.” As if to back up his claim, a barmaid placed a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew in front of him. With a wave of his gloved hand, he dismissed both the barmaid and Satish.

  His one-time lover’s brows lifted in surprise. She rose from her seat and made her way across the room. Although Philippe made sure to appear to be very interested in his food, he watched as she stopped at several other patrons’ tables before finally making her way to the three men at the bar. She exchanged a few words with them, glanced toward him, then moved on.

  After a few minutes, the three paid their tab and filed from the room.

  Philippe still didn’t have the opportunity to get a good look at the third man. Frustration filled him when a few people entered the building just as the three
headed out, blocking his view. After several slow breaths, he had his daemon blood back under control. He ate slowly, enjoying the savory stew.

  One thing can always be said for this place. It has great food.

  He decided it was because of the easy access to spices. Situated on the bay, Crood stood as a hub for several trade routes across Fidelia. After eating his fill and pretending to drink the ale, he tossed a few coins on the table and made his way out of the tavern. He hoped the plant that had been to his right wouldn’t be too much the worse for wear for his spilling most of his drink on its roots.

  Leading his mount down the cobblestone street, Philippe took in the changes in the city around him. Most buildings stood three and four stories tall, a store on street level, while the floors above looked to hold homes. A three-story inn appeared out of the deepening gloom. After leaving his horse at the livery next door, he arranged for a room. He stayed there just long enough to deposit his saddlebags.

  Back on the street, he moved through the shadows of the back alleys, hearing snatches of conversations here and there. Finally, he arrived at a large livery. The sign on the back door warned him to keep out. Trying the handle, he found the door was locked. Grinning, he pulled a small roll of cloth from his belt. Using a pair of slender, metal hooks, he unlocked the door.

  Slipping into the building, he stared around a dark office. A desk with parchment, quill, and lamp stood in the far corner. A large wardrobe had been pushed into the opposite corner. A rough wooden cabinet hung to his right. He crossed to the cabinet and opened it, but only found horseshoe nails and lamp oil.

  Philippe moved to the desk next, but before he could open the only drawer, the door opened. An older man, hunched with age or from leaning over an anvil, entered the room. The lantern he carried over one well-muscled arm cast a small circle of light around him, barely illuminating several feet of space. Standing in the shadows by the desk, Philippe watched Hardenshaw cross to the wardrobe. The man opened the large door on the right side, pulled out the topmost of three drawers, and dropped several pieces of parchment inside. When he turned around to head back out, he finally noticed Philippe standing in the shadows.