DAEMONEUM

by Laney McMann

  She looked like she’d stepped straight out of the eighteenth century.

  The mask, like her dress, was black, but it was made of metal filigree that reminded her of delicate black lace. Along the edges, it was adorned with a string of tiny black pearls, and it framed her green-yellow eyes and made them stand out like crystals. Only the tip of her nose, pink cheekbones, and red-painted lips showed. She didn’t recognize herself. No one would recognize her like this.

  A sharp intake of breath made her whip around. Cole stood halfway up the bending wooden staircase, holding onto the wrought iron railing. Dressed in an all-black tuxedo, a simple black satin mask highlighted his sparkling eyes. Kade wanted to look away, but she couldn’t make herself.

  “We don’t need tickets,” he said in a tired voice. “Not that anyone would deny you entry.” He walked down the steps slowly, his shoes clapping off the stairs, without taking his gaze away from her.

  She’d forgotten she’d asked a question, mesmerized by her own transformation in the mirror. “I was talking to myself,” she said, having no idea what to say to him—how to even look him in the eyes anymore. But transfixed, she watched him walk down the stairs, every step he took, until he stood directly in front of her, their reflections side by side in the large mirror. His gray-blue eyes were soft, glassy, and blood-shot behind his mask, and full of pain.

  She wanted to cry, and to hold him, and to tell him she was sorry, and that everything was okay. She wanted to take his pain away—but she couldn’t.

  “You look beautiful,” he whispered, and his voice cracked.

  “So do you.” She ached to touch him, hold his hand, anything, but she had to stop thinking that way. She kept her hands at her sides.

  He glanced down at the floor. “Kade … I can’t …” His voice cracked again. “I can’t do this.”

  She stared at him, unable to breathe, and tears poured down her face from underneath her mask.

  He touched her check with the slightest caress, as if he was afraid she didn’t want him to, and cleared the tears away. “Did you mean what you said?”

  She frowned, not understanding, tears still streaming, as she looked up him.

  “Do you want to break up with me?” The words were so tender, so full of raw pain, Kade couldn’t speak.

  She shook her head, and without a word, he lifted her chin, leaned down and gently kissed her red lips. Kade’s breath hitched, and she melted into him, as the warmth of his mouth, his hand cupping her jaw, enveloped her completely. She would drown in him and thank god for it.

  “I’m sorry I left,” he whispered, soft touches caressing her face. “I …” He yanked his mask off. “I love you.”

  She cried harder.

  He led her to a small love-seat near the roaring fireplace and sat down. Wiping her tears, he gently lifted her mask off, careful not to scratch her face. “You are all what I want.”

  “But …” She couldn’t stop the sobs. He was all she wanted, too. All she could ever imagine wanting, but … “This is your life, Cole. Your … life. I won’t take that away from you.”

  “You haven’t taken anything from me.” He gazed at her, and she knew she had black mascara streaks running down her face, and a stuffy, red nose, but as always, he just didn’t seem to care. “Euryale said that you were healing me.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “She’s right.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Remember when I told you that Danny thought I saved him from the awful fate he believed being born a Primori was?”

  She nodded, wiping her face.

  “He thought I was saving him, but really he was saving me. I told you you were saving me, too, and I might not have fully understood what I was saying when I said that, but now I do.”

  She tilted her head on a breath. “Cole … this is,” she shrugged, “different from that, I mean—“

  “How?” He held her hand. “How is it different? I was struggling in ways I can’t even describe before I met you,” he said. “Yes, my grandfather is amazing, my uncle, too, thank all that is Celestial for them. I wouldn’t have made it without them when I lost my parents, but I was still barely surviving. Danny was helping. A lot. But I was just surviving. Getting a high off being angry—off hunting Daemoneum—it’s all I was living for. But when I met you,” he shook his head, “when I met you everything … changed. I couldn’t catch my breath anymore. Or think straight. And every time I was near you it felt like I was falling, like my stomach kept hitting my feet, and I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to fall.”

  More tears fell.

  “All the light that had been missing from the world came back when I met you. My heart remembered it was supposed to beat, not for the rush of the fight, but for something so much bigger than that. It wanted to beat for you.”

  She stared at him. How in the hell she ever got so lucky, she still didn’t know, but she would thank the heavens every day for all eternity for bringing her Cole.

  “Serva me, servabo te, remember?”

  Kade couldn’t get any words out. She remembered. Cole had said that to her after she’d been released from the infirmary after the attack with Dracon. It meant: Save me, and I will save you.

  "You’re it for me, Sparrow.” His voice cracked. “And you’re right, this is my life. And the gods know I’ve spent enough of it in the dark.” He held her tear-filled gaze with his glassy ones. “I want to spend the rest of it with you. And I really don’t care what form I have to take to do it.”

  Her arms were around him, eye make-up smearing all over her face and his tuxedo jacket. “I love you, Cole.”

  “I love you,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. “I love you so much.”

  Chapter 29

  Heru sat in the gondola en route to the masquerade ball, staying quiet as they wound through the canals in Venice. It was clear by the proximity between Kade and Cole they had made up from their quarrel. He was pleased about that. His intent in taking Cole to see Euyrale had been genuine. His nephew needed to know the truth about what was happening to him. What he chose to do afterward was his decision and his alone. Cole had never backed down from a challenge. Even at six years old he was the toughest child Heru had ever known—which said more about him than Cole would likely ever know. With all the beings from different walks of life, from ancient gods to new gods, from demons to angels, with which Cole had grown up, Heru felt completely at ease with him being Turned into an Anamolia.

  He was proud of Cole. Maybe prouder than he had ever been, and at the same time, he hated what he was likely going to have to face due to his decision. Pulling alongside the bank of the canal in front of the ballroom where the masquerade was held, Heru climbed out of the boat, Cole and Kade following, and he turned to his nephew.

  “I’m just going to take a quick stroll,” he said. “I’ll be inside in a few minutes.”

  Cole’s brows creased. It was his trademark expression, Heru thought. He questioned everything. Thankfully, for once, he chose not to argue. He was probably too emotionally tired in all honesty. Heru couldn’t blame him.

  “I’ll see you in a few.” He walked away from them, down the cobbled walkway along the canal.

  The couple of blocks he covered were quick, even with the crowds of masked party-goers in their costumes, which in many cases included eighteenth century white wigs. Like Cole, Heru had chosen a simple black tux and mask. Taking a quick turn toward the outskirts of town, he shifted in a darkened part of the city and took flight as the Falcon God.

  The city was beautiful at night, with its glittering lights and cathedral spires cutting the sky. Tucking his wings tightly, he dove downward, opened his wings at the last second, and coasted to a perch on the wrought iron railing along a canal away from the city center. Concealed in the shadows, he waited.

  The multi-colored exteriors of Venice homes surrounded him. All was quiet in the evening hour. Sounds of televisions reached his keen ears from open windows down the bank, and
the aromas of freshly made pastas, tomato sauces, and breads wafted on the breeze. Raucous laughter from the ball in the distance reached him, as well. Heru didn’t plan to be long from the festivities. A quick in and out from his destination, and he would return.

  The Falcon God glanced up at the waning moon eclipsing the Venetian rooftops. His companion was late. Large, dark eyes shifted down the walkway, but no movement alerted him of anyone in the distance. Spreading his wide, slate blue wings, the bird took flight, soaring above the city again. The spires of the Gesuati Church broke through the sky overhead, and a raven approached through the light cloud cover, a mile or so away—a small black dot moving swiftly toward him.

  Shifting his trajectory, Heru folded his wings and dove back down to his perch on the iron railing, satisfied to wait for the minute or so it would take for the raven to land. The slight clap of shoes against concrete focused his attention to the right as his companion strode down the bank of the canal.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the man said, as he advanced through the dusk, dressed in a black traveling cloak, long pants, and work boots.

  Heru swooped against the dark overhang of the building closest to him, and shifted into his human form, stretching and rotating his wrists. “Ready?”

  “There’s a horde on the roof. Concealed but there.”

  “Ya,” Heru nodded, “I saw them. I don’t plan on flying, though.”

  “We can’t knock on the front door of the Church.”

  “Jimmy,” Heru eyed the man, “we’ve been fratres for what?”

  “You know I can’t count that far back any better than you can.”

  “Fine, but it’s been long enough for ya to know how I work. I’m still the Alpha, not like we lose rank, the rank just shifts some,” Heru said, “point is, I say we aren’t flying, we aren’t flying. Gurgulio aren’t the brightest, but they’ll know a falcon and a raven when they see them. We’re going through the Leygate in the lowest underground chamber.” He pointed down the walkway they were standing on.

  “Where?”

  “The place I told you about. Cole was tracking a Daemoneum Hive a few weeks ago and ended up underneath the Gesauti through a blacked gate.” Heru grinned. “Now I finally understand why it led him there.”

  The backside of the Church had already fallen into darkness by the time they made their way down the walkway. As evening took hold, only a few small landscaping lights illuminated the exterior, stone walls, and the grounds in dull white spots. Weaving through them, Heru stayed hunched and low to the ground alongside the Church, Jimmy behind him, as he approached a small grate embedded into the stone facade of the old building.

  “Here it is. It was a Leygate. Looks like it got shut down.”

  “No way we’re fitting through there,” his friend whispered.

  “We’ll fit.” Heru placed his hands on the wrought iron bars. Sealed tight, there was no budge. Letting a small electric volt discharge from his fingertips, the welding at the corners of the grate popped and broke. He kicked the grate in with his booted foot and heard a splash as it hit the brackish water in the underground room below.

  His companion raised a questioning brow.

  “The Church is sinking.” Heru positioned himself so he could shimmy through the small opening and drop in. “It’s full of water.” He disappeared from view with a ‘thunk’ into a dark room. Daemoneum loved creating Hives out of churches. Like the Anti-Christ or something, he thought with a shake of his head. Jimmy fell from the opening beside him, splashing water everywhere.

  The underground room was silent—not even the slightest sound besides the slosh of water. A narrow stairway led up to the street overhead by way of a ceiling grate against the far wall, and there was nothing else in the chamber except for stone sculptures of gargoyle heads mounted on one of the opposite walls.

  Taking the steps upward, Heru touched the wet, cold stone wall with his hand. The grate in the ceiling above him appeared to be the only way out, other than the grate they came in through, which would lead them out of the Church. Why have an empty room beneath the Church that connected to . . . nowhere?

  At the top of the stairs, he pushed the grate overhead and peered out. It opened onto the street above, like he thought. Pulling it closed again, the wrought iron thunked shut. Heru glanced down the steps at Jimmy, standing in knee deep water.

  “Trap door?”

  With a grin, Heru pushed against the wet brick wall directly in front of him where the staircase ended abruptly into the ceiling. It vibrated under his palm.

  “Ready?” He glanced at his friend again.

  “Are you?” Jimmy answered.

  Without comment, Heru shoved hard with both hands, and the stone wall pushed forward with a grinding noise, creating a small opening. Hoisting his body through it, he found himself in a crudely made stone space with no windows, only another set of upward leading stairs. Shifting his weight, he stared straight up. At least four flights of steps wound overhead. The stairwell they stood in was completely enclosed.

  “We’ll be trapped in here,” Jimmy whispered, “no windows.”

  The sound of footsteps clapped from somewhere above, and Heru took soundlessly to the stairs, taking them three at time, winding upward through the levels, Jimmy at his heels. At the top, he stilled, controlling his rapid breaths, and peered out of the stairwell into a small round room. A tall man with short hair and a long coat stood with his back to them, hands folded casually, facing a turret window.

  “You found me,” the man said, without turning around.

  Heru stepped from the stairs into plain view, but Jimmy remained in the shadows. “It wasn’t hard.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be. I’ve been following your movements for days now.” He turned, his silhouette catching the slight illumination of coming moonlight in the otherwise darkening sky. “I thought it easier if you came to me. You know,” he said, “I felt you call a week or so ago. It’s been a long time.”

  Heru walked the length of the small, round room. Every few feet another window looked out over the city of Venice and the canal below the Gesuati Church. “I hoped ya’d answer,” he said. “Put my worries to rest. But ya didn’t.”

  “No.” The man faced Heru directly, light eyes Heru hadn’t seen in years focused on his face, and burn scars he’d never seen before down the man’s cheek and neck. “I always hated the way they felt,” he said. ”Wings twitching around on my throat.” A silver ring glittered in the low light on his finger.

  “I wanted so much, so very much, to be wrong about this.” Heru stared at the man, trying with all he had to keep his composure. “I had my hunches, and I told myself I was simply getting old. It had to be that. But all the signs kept pointing to ya.” Blue wings caught the new moon’s light on his throat. “The one I called as a boy and who came to me every time. The one I taught my secrets to because he’d been so curious. The secrets of the Old World.” Heru put his hands in his pockets. “The person who knew of the coiled ring, knew of the fusionem crystal’s ancient uses, and possible future uses. The one who knew that in the right conditions, an Anamolia could be made, possibly even controlled. Which was the reason the race died out so long ago,” he went on, “the reason the fusionem crystals were gathered up and destroyed. Gentle creatures, Anamolia, but gentleness can lead to vulnerability.” Heru averted his eyes as the man remained silent.

  “It wasn’t that hard to put the pieces together,” he continued. “Use the old man, Kevin Sparrow, as the scapegoat. He was reckless enough to take the blame, play the mad scientist. He had every reason to hate the Ward since being cast out as a child while his twin brother Keith rose to success. Still, I had to keep these suspicions to myself. What if Cole found out I was suspicious of ya?” Heru looked Spurius in the eye. The same eyes as his son.

  “How is he? How is Colson?”

  A choked breath escaped Heru’s lungs. “How is he? Everyone believed ya dead! He has suffered immeasurably because of ya.
”

  Spurius’ cold expression didn’t change. “He’s been through worse.”

  “Worse?” Heru’s fists balled in his pockets, and he paced the length of the room. “And what would I say to the Warden about my suspicions?” Heru asked. “Caelius, yar own father who still grieves yar death? Ya make me sick. Ya don’t deserve to be Cole’s father.” He tracked across the room, stopping directly in front of Spurius. “What was I supposed to say to Cole, I asked myself, if what I thought about ya was true? If I found ya and proved ya were the Patriarchae? How could I break his heart like that? Ya’d already broken it so many times, it was all I could do, all Warden Caelius could do, to keep the boy from going off the deep end when ya died. He looked up to ya even as ya ‘trained’ him, wanted to be strong for ya to make ya proud.”

  Spurius didn’t flinch at any of the words, but stood motionless. “It was my job to make him the strongest.”

  “As his father, it was yar job to love him! But the way he was taught, all ya did was damage him. But we, ya see, myself and yar father, we saved him. Day in and day out, we saved him. And his fratre Danny saved him, and now Kadence continues to save him.” Heru reached out and held onto to either side of the man’s face, staring into his eyes. “And I will not have ya messing up anything we have done. Do ya understand?” he yelled, inches from Spurius’ face. “Ya‘re dead to Cole and dead ya will remain even if I have to be the one who makes sure of it.”

  Spurius grinned. “You realize you left my son unguarded?”

  “Cole is very capable of taking care of himself.”

  “Is he?” Spurius’ light eyes shifted toward the stairwell. A hunched gargoyle stood in the shadows, and Jimmy was gone. “Send the horde from the roof,” Spurius said. “Bring me my son.” His cold, blue-gray eyes shifted toward Heru. “And dispose of my great uncle. And find his friend.”