“Demon.” I wouldn’t give him the dignity of his own name.
He was average, and that worried me. I expected horns or fangs or even two tails, but there was none of that. He was a man, middle in height, average in color, and bland in appearance. His eyes were all colors and none, the pupils so large as to obscure most of his iris, which cycled through flickering colors like a fever dream.
Then I saw his hands. Each finger had an extra joint, tipped with a claw of wicked shape and length. He wore a simple robe of gray fabric, his feet bare. His hair was brown, his skin olive. He could have been anyone.
“I am a demon,” he said, his voice light. “And a king. At least, I have eaten enough kings to call myself one. My maker was a king, up until the moment I consumed him.”
“When?” I asked.
“During the fall of the first city. A place not even the Ferin know of, it is so deep in the past. On a river, near a plain where people learned to make mud into bricks and bricks into walls. They’re all dead now. They made me, and then I unmade them. My attempts to help them did not succeed.”
“The vampires?” I asked.
“Among others. The vampires were the most useful. The others proved to be too destructive even for my tastes,” Malfas said with a soft chuckle. I couldn’t imagine what he might consider too destructive.
“You intended to cull me all along? The other story was just bait?” I said this while looking down at the earth. There was solid rock just below me, under the thin soil.
“I needed war on the horizon, so you would come out to play. I couldn’t let the accidents—that’s Ferin, by the way—tip the balance too far. Despite their hunger, good vampires are hard to make. So many humans turn out to be lacking when they earn their fangs.” He grinned, and I saw his own teeth were small and even. I found that weird.
I thought about what to say, then spread my hands. “Here I am.”
“Not for long,” Malfas said, and vanished.
He appeared behind me as his fist lashed out—
—And hit solid rock I’d raised from under my feet. He grunted, a noise of professional respect more than anger, and calmly began to cook the blood in my body.
My sight flashed white, with spots of red and gray dancing across them in a dizzying pattern. Malfas switched sides, standing in front of me as he lifted his hand and began heating them to a blue fury. When he struck at me, I let gravity do the work, pulling me down as I fought to counteract his powerful spell surging through my blood. I shot Malfas in the mouth with a lance of flame so hot it punched through the back of his skull, but he reformed in seconds.
It didn’t matter. My blood began to cool, his power interrupted.
Deep inside my chest, I felt something give. It was either a heart attack or Ferin ability, and I couldn’t be sure which. Maflas resorted to good old-fashioned violence, kicking me in the balls so hard that I howled and sagged backward, turning to vomit even as the ground greeted my face. With a wave, I sent a dagger of stone up to stab his leg, the rock shearing through his demonic flesh, which bled nicely despite being forged by the evil ploy of a long-dead king.
“I thought you might fold,” Malfas crowed, his teeth gleaming in a smile of satisfied arrogance.
“Not yet.” A second spire of rock shot into his body at an angle, whistling through the air as it approached. He blocked most of it, but a piece of stony shrapnel tore his kidney open in a shower of gore. Malfas briefly took a knee, shook his head, and responded by launching a pure ball of fire at my chest. It hit like napalm, splashing against me with a pain so hideous it made me forget all about my balls. He leapt on top of me and punched down with an elbow, shattering my ribs in a crackle of bone and cartilage. His power was incredible. His smile was smug. He was too much for me, and he knew it.
In that moment, I knew defense was a losing strategy, and I brought all of my powers to a diamond point just below his feet. I didn’t merely heat the ground. I caused it to implode, falling inward like the dying core of a tiny sun. When it rebounded, the answering lance of fire was a white so pure it blinded me, shooting up into Malfas’ gut like an avenging angel. Blood and lungs and what looked like part of his spine streaked skyward, leaving him staggered as he fought to keep what was left of his body erect.
Then he smiled.
“In ten seconds, I heal, and then—”
Zarya’s sword of water took his head off as it spun past. His face turned to a look of surprise, then anger, and then nothing at all as Kamila’s fireball tore his skull apart into atoms.
Then Lila and Tess stepped into my vision, and they both went to work on his body. The noises that followed were wet and grotesque as they worked their way methodically from bone to bone, pulverizing, burning, and scorching his parts with silver. The last bit of Malfas lay before me as I struggled to a sitting position, my world spinning as I fought not to vomit again.
His heart.
“Do you want the honors?” Kamila asked. The other Ferin were around us now, faces bright with awe.
“I do.” I took his black heart in my hand and squeezed, all the while bathing it in the flames drawn from my very core. I howled and shook, using both hands as saliva flew from my mouth while I pressed and shaped and tore.
And then it was done. Gasping, I let the handful of diamonds fall to the ground, each one shining with a light that came from within.
“One for each of you,” I said to my women, and then the world went black.
Epilogue
“Smell that?” I asked Kamila.
“Is it—pine? Or cedar?” she said.
“Cedar. Most of the barn will be made from it, but the house will be walnut. Ash. Maple.”
We stood looking at a hive of activity. Ferin swarmed over the building site, shouting and laughing in good natured sounds as they worked. The house was taking shape. When it was done, there would be others, but ours came first.
“How many have come?” Tess asked. She pulled at her lips, the diamond flashing on her finger.
“All of them, I hope. We have nearly 60,000 acres. We have room,” I said, looking out over the rolling hills. It had taken a great deal of work—shell corporations, money, and bribes—to get the land, but it was ours. A few quiet visits to local politicians and one burned arrest warrant on a sheriff’s desk got our point across. The land was ours, and we were not to be bothered. “All except Mort, but we got the letter. He’ll be here.”
“I think he always knew. Somehow. He knew what the Day of Culling was, and to get out of your way,” Kamila said.
“I think you’re right. And I’m thankful. Now, we see if 60,000 acres is going to do the trick,” I said.
“Is it enough?” Lila asked. Zarya just watched her horse barn being built, eyes lost in a pleasant dream.
I considered the horizon, and then what was around me. I smiled. “More than enough.”
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About the Author
Daniel Pierce lives in Wyoming with his wife Marissa and their two dogs. After fourteen years as an engineer, Daniel decided it was finally time to write and release his first novel.
As a lifelong fan of scifi and fantasy, he wants nothing more than to share his passion.
He invites readers to email him at [email protected]
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Forever Young - Book 3 Page 22