Monsters: (A Dark Gods Romance) (Gods and Monsters Book 6)

by Klarissa King

  His face slackened. His sharp blue eyes cut to the pond before suspicious understanding darkened him.

  “You killed him,” I said softly, the hiss of a snake before it struck.

  Rage was rising up through me, latching in my throat, swelling so I could scarcely catch a breath.

  An angry red was taking my face.

  “You might not have torn out his life with your own hands,” I start, and slowly advance on the mouth of the path, “but you left him to die in your place. He meant nothing to you. Your evil knows no bounds, so Syfoner died keeping my secret. His blood is on your hands.”

  Dark shadows clung to his face, his eyes sharp blades glinting under moonlight.

  “Do not overstep,” he warned. “It is easier if you accept your position, but if I must, I have ways of forcing you to do my bidding. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating my power.”

  He took a dangerous step forward. I didn’t back away.

  “The Prince’s torture is nothing compared to what I’ll do to your precious Ava. I can flay her alive, heal her, boil her, heal her—every day, forever. The choice is yours.”

  I shivered with rage. “You risked my life for your war. I was never anything to you. You never cared.”

  Damianos clenched his jaw. “Don’t tell me what I feel for you, Valissa. I freed you—”

  “For your own benefit!” I screamed.

  He said, “I never thought it would take so long for you to emerge. We didn’t have time to waste—”

  “How long?” The words shuddered out of me, a breath choked with caged rage. “How long was I in there?”

  “Just since this afternoon.”

  I let out a bitter laugh.

  A lazy smile took my lips.

  “Just,” I echoed. “I was just in there for a whole night. You just threw me into dangerous waters. Just…”

  The smile turned savage.

  “And I just want to kill you,” I whispered.

  10

  Before I could rush at him, Damianos threw a hit of power my way.

  The force of it should have sent me spiralling through the air, but I dug my heels into the mud and lowered my lashes at him.

  Shock flickered over his face. His sky-blue eyes darkened to pits of nothing.

  “You had me fooled,” I said and started to twist my hands, around and around, gathering balls of energy from all over my body. “I believed you—shame on me.”

  I threw up my hands.

  Energy exploded through the air and hit him square on the chest, in sizzling ball like a storm cloud.

  Damianos slammed back with the impact and cradled the crackling smog. His stunned gaze snapped up to me and held still for one beat. Then, his face twisted with pure darkness and he shoved the power back at me.

  It threw me off my feet.

  I landed on my side, the shore cracking with the hit, and thunder rumbled the soil.

  Damianos was sweeping towards me, fast. With a violent flourish of the hands, a murder of crows descended on me from nowhere.

  Once beloved creatures, they betrayed me and dozens of them came spearing down at me. Knife-sharp beaks and claws tore at me, ripping apart my skin.

  Enraged, I threw up a storm of lightning that swallowed the crows. The life was cracked out of them in a giant, smelly sizzle that singed my nose.

  I snarled as I scrambled to my feet, dodging a second attack from him. A ball of total blackness seared the ground where I’d been.

  “You will obey,” he snarled at me. “You’re in debt to me, and I will see it repaid in your loyalty.”

  That’s it.

  Time to kiss your shadowy ass goodbye.

  A scream caught in my throat as I charged at Damianos. I ducked and kept coming as he threw attack after attack at me, dodging every hit, until I spun around at the edge of the trees and, with a scream, shoved every scrap of murderous power into a ball of black smog and hurled it at him.

  Damianos cracked into a tree from the impact.

  Dazed, he crumpled to the dirt, unmoving. I had to act quick as he lay there.

  I stormed over to him and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. I dragged him over to the pond and booted him into the shallow shore.

  “Take my sacrifice,” I spat before I straddled his back and held his head down in the icy water.

  I froze at the sound of a twig snapping, then slowly, I looked up at my audience.

  Jasper and Adrik stood together at the mouth of the path, just an arm’s reach from me. As soon as they saw me—the changes—they paled to pearl-white shades, and I thought Jasper would sick himself.

  “Want to stop me?” I gritted out at them.

  Adrik dropped to his knees and bowed—for me.

  Jasper slowly followed.

  I plunged my hand into Damianos’s back, and tore out his spine with one swift pull.

  11

  Blood sprayed through the air.

  Digging my hands deep inside of him, I shut my eyes and drained every scrap of power I could find until there was nothing left to take.

  “Put what’s left of him in the pond,” I ordered Jasper before I marched through the trees to the camp tucked away.

  Adrik trailed behind me, his fear sizzling in the air. He was safe. For now. I needed him—numbers—to face the Prince.

  I didn’t know how he would react to me—would he try and kill me, or would he listen to what I had to say?

  The risk was too great to face him alone. So I inherited my aniels, with the gruesome death of their God.

  It didn’t hurt in the least.

  I deposited myself by the fire and waved one of the worshippers over. “Wash my hands.” The blood and tendons were clinging to my fingers like rats to ships.

  “Jasper,” I added when he treaded back into camp, hesitant steps rustling the leaves. “Come here.”

  As the worshiper ran a wet cloth over my hands, Jasper sank to the ground at my side, his position one of submission. I watched the flames burn.

  “Are you angry?” I asked him, watching the flames turn pink. Was I doing that?

  “No,” he said, and I believed him. “I’m sad.”

  I turned to face him, seeing the wetness clinging to his lashes. To lose a God, a maker, must have been terrible. I felt little hatred towards him now, and little love for Ava. But still, I felt I owed him more than a life under my thumb, a life serving the one who destroyed his maker.

  “When we get back to the ship, you’ll have a choice,” I told him. “You can leave and spend your life with Ava, and I’ll drain you of your power to make you mortal. Or you can come with me.”

  His lips pinched. He was conflicted, I could see it in the battle of his mahogany eyes.

  I turned back to the fire.

  “Same goes for you, Adrik,” I said. “I won’t force either of you to stay with me.”

  Adrik fell into a bow deeper than any he’d given Damianos. “I will go where you go, Almighty.”

  I nodded, half-surprised. But then, what did Adrik want with a mortal life? He despised vilas, he loved what he was, and I could keep him in that comfortable life.

  If the Prince was feeling reasonable.

  The truth was, I planned to have him back. The question was, would he have me back?

  “I want a mortal life.” Jasper’s confession struck me out of my thoughts. “With Ava. Away from Scocie.”

  I watched him for a beat. Doubts gleamed in his eyes, betraying his trust in my word.

  He didn’t think I would give him what he wanted. But it wasn’t for him, or even for Ava. It was for me.

  I owed a debt, and the last thing I wanted was sneaky unfaithful aniels running around behind my back.

  Better keep the ones I can trust.

  “I ask one thing of you before I give you that life.” I stopped the worshipper from scrubbing my nails and instead, reached for his hands. “You will head to the palace when we dock at the Capital, and give the Prince a message for me.�
��

  “He’ll kill me first,” he argued.

  In answer, I drew the pink and black ribbon from the wrist of the worshipper.

  I handed it to Jasper. “When you give him this, tell him I want it to be red and pink. He might spare you if you bring him to me—and then you can run away with Ava.”

  He hesitated, his hand ready to take the ribbon, to take the deal. But his eyes levelled mine. “And we will never hear from you again?”

  “Never,” I promised, and without an echo of heartbreak, I meant it.

  Ava was dead to me, because now, my heart was stone.

  12

  We left at first light.

  The worshippers carried the bags at the tail of the group, and beside me, Adrik marched proudly.

  My proclivity for violence was what drew him to me as an aniel to a master. At least, that was what I suspected. He was twisted, even for an aniel.

  He would be useful.

  It was close to nightfall when we got back to the shore. As we climbed up the rope-ladder, shocked gasps cascaded over the ship.

  I almost forgot about my changed appearance before seeing the horror facing me on a half-dozen people. But then they realised we were one short in our party and an uncomfortable silence swept over the ship.

  Once I was on the vessel, I gave them no time to turn on me. “Set sail for the Capital,” I demanded, and started to climb the stairs to the cabin.

  I waved over my new favourite worshipper who washed my hands, and Adrik, my new trusted aniel.

  “Prepare for battle, but hope for peace.”

  It wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear.

  I could see that on crumpled face and furrowed brows. But I turned my back on them and disappeared into the cabin.

  It hit me like a punch to the gut.

  Damianos’s scent was all over this room. It was in the fresh coffee beans that were ground to dust on the far table, where the worshipper was quick to busy himself, and he was in the ink spilled on the desk.

  I wandered over to the desk and ran my fingertips over the parchments spread out.

  “They are afraid of you,” said Adrik, gesturing to the now-shut door. “But that works in your favour. With fear of you, they will listen to you—and if you make peace, they will stay loyal.”

  “And you?” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “You wanted revenge on the Prince, so how can I trust you won’t betray me like you did the Prince?”

  “That’s the thing with trust. You can either give it or not.” He shrugged his beefy shoulders. “I wanted to be free of the one who killed my maker. I got my revenge, and if I belong to you, I will be free.”

  Free from the chains of the Prince. But he was content to return to the palace. A weave of feelings I shared.

  I nodded thoughtfully and sank into the wooden chair behind the desk. I made it my divine throne.

  “See if you can find a row boat in the shallow seawaters,” I said, rinsing my gaze over the small map tucked under an ink pot. “Jasper will need a way to reach the Capital, fast.”

  Adrik stooped in answer.

  The worshipper set down a mug of warm coffee at my side, then rushed over to the washtub. He knew what to do without any instruction from me, just like Nalla. I hoped she was still alive. She had her uses.

  I was getting ahead of myself, and chided myself.

  For all I knew, the Prince would do to me what I did to Phantom. Tear out my spine and throw me in a powerful, ancient pool of creepy water.

  Risks I had little choice but to take.

  Adrik left the cabin before I undressed and slipped into the washtub.

  The water was cold, with no way to warm it onboard. Prickly bumps were quick to sweep over my skin.

  Still, I bathed long enough that my fingers wrinkled and, when I dried off, the worshipper had conjured up some clean clothes from somewhere on the ship. I slipped into the weightless black breeches and shirt that I left untucked, then slipped a gauzy crimson shawl over my shoulders.

  It had been less than an hour when Adrik found a rickety old row boat beneath the water and raised it up to the surface. It was hooked onto the side of the ship as we sailed for the Capital.

  I had a plan, but the closer we got, the higher nerves climbed in my body. Anxiety ran up me like icicles spearing from the ground, and turned my churning stomach to lead.

  The Prince might not even hear me out. And that was the one thing my entire plan weighed on—he had to listen to me first.

  Thing was, he was a stickler for a grudge, and I chewed that over more and more as we neared the Capital.

  Finally, the curved bed of the isle’s south docks crept up the distance. That was when Adrik knocked to tell me we were close.

  The land came with the dawn.

  On upper-deck, our whole ship watched the pinks raise with the land in the distance, as though the sunrise was embracing Scocie in its loving hues.

  Two worshippers fed the rope ladder down to the little wooden boat tucked to our ship. Jasper stood far back in the crowd, comforting Ava. I barely paid her a glance since returning to the ship. The more I found myself, the less she mattered—until now, when she simply didn’t matter at all anymore.

  At my side, Adrik stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Are you sure you don’t want freedom?” I asked him. “Today is your last chance.”

  He shook his head. “I am an aniel. I was made to serve a God, and I have had a choice in who I serve. Today or next decade, I will not change my mind.”

  His promise was so certain that it struck a blade of pride through me. A small smile pinched my face as I looked out at the dawn.

  One of the sailor-savvy worshippers anchored us off-shore. Far away enough that, if the Prince attacked, we could flee with a solid head start.

  “Can Jasper manage the boat on his own?” I asked and looked over my shoulder at the young aniel holding Ava. She wept into his chest, and I couldn’t tell if she shed happy or sorrowful tears.

  She peeled herself away from Jasper and turned her simmering gaze on me. I arched my brow at the eye-contact, as if to provoke her, maybe stir her hatred a little.

  Instead, she mouthed a single word at me. Please. My smile widened and I turned my back on her.

  I gave her the aniel she loved, I promised to give him mortality and freedom, and still she asks for more.

  When it comes to Ava, would it ever be enough?

  Part of me was glad to soon be rid of her.

  I kept my back to her on the ship, but I heard the clack of her boots near me. She was coming to beg on Jasper’s behalf, I just knew it. She wanted to be free now, not later. Too bad for her, I needed Jasper for the Prince to even consider listening to me.

  “Get her away from me,” I murmured to Adrik without so much as a glance over my shoulder at the advancing Ava. He swept away in a blink, and I heard a slight scuffle. Adrik, shoving her away, back into the arms of Jasper.

  I let that warning hang in the air as I waited for Jasper to join me at the nose of the ship.

  Adrik returned with Jasper’s arm in his grip. apparently having to drag him to my side.

  I shot Jasper a cold look. “Ready?”

  He yanked his arm out of Adrik’s hold. “If I must.”

  I smiled. “You must. Now get in the boat, and make sure to give him this before you do or say anything. Once he reads this, you’ll tell him the ribbon should be pink and red, do you understand?”

  I handed him a letter, wrapped in a pink and black ribbon. The letter was simple like my writing skills.

  Jasper nodded and tucked the letter into his inner-coat pocket. “Yes.”

  With that, he was climbing down the rope-ladder and into the boat. I studied the mossy smears over the wood with a pinched face. Those patches reminded me of the rotten underbelly of my brother’s old boats that had lived for too long.

  This ship had the same underbelly—mossy, sea-slimed and smelly. That was my least f
avourite thing about ships of any size. The stink. It was fishy, salty and reminded me some of the taste of a coin.

  I tasted coins in the air for hours as we waited on the upper deck. By the time Jasper would reach the stardust palace from the shore, and return, I didn’t expect him back until dusk. Maybe later. But I stayed on deck for hours, watching the free ships anchor and sail away from the curved shore of Scocie’s south.

  I used a long golden telescope from the wheel to watch the shore. But I quickly turned to watching the Capital brighten the horizon with all the colours of the rainbow. I wished I had more time to enjoy the city, more time to see the Capital of the world in all its beauty and uniqueness. I wished I could have gone back to the Lost Square, and done things differently.

  Midday came and went, and weariness soon settled over the ship. Some of the worshippers slept under the sun, others retired to the belly of the ship where hammocks were stung up.

  I returned to the cabin sometime before a worshipper brought me a hearty meal and the sky’s light was starting to fade.

  It was then that Adrik burst into my cabin, the golden telescope in his tight grip.

  “Prince Poison is at the docks,” he blurted out. “He’s waiting for you.”

  13

  Through the golden telescope, I watched Prince Poison. He lazily walked up the length of the pier to the edge as our boat drew nearer.

  Tucked in the little rickety boat with Jasper and Adrik, I tried to slow the quick beats of my heart. I felt every thump in my throat and fingertips.

  This wasn’t like my fight with Damianos. The Prince hadn’t tried to kill me. Maim me, sure. Drown me, maybe, but never kill.

  And the glaring difference that set me on edge was the worst to admit. I didn’t want to kill Prince Poison. I wanted to stay with him. Of course if I had to, I would rip out his spine too. I would just…rather not.

  Jasper roped us to the wooden stump at the pier. Adrik climbed out of the boat first, his watchful stare on the two aniels the Prince brought with him.

  I glanced around at the coming darkness for any signs of more aniels hidden in the shadows. The shore had been cleared—no vilas or sailors or pirates trailed nearby.