I smile a little at the hate in his eyes. I doubt he’s ever had someone turn his own tricks back on him.
Releasing his jaw, I say, “Relax, asshole, I would never be intimate with you.”
Enough toying with him.
I straighten. “I want to pay the Thief of Souls a personal visit. How do I get to him?”
Galleghar laughs. “You’d have to die first.”
I wait for his laughter to trail off.
“Is that the only way?” I ask.
He hesitates.
“Is it?” I press.
The hateful look is back. I watch as he holds out against my glamour for one—two—three—four—five seconds.
“No,” he eventually grits out.
My pulse begins to race.
I was right. There is another way in.
“Tell me everything you know about this other entrance to the Land of Death and Deep Earth.”
Galleghar’s lips twitch as he fights my compulsion. For once, it isn’t satisfying to watch him resist. Every second he holds out answering feels like an eternity.
Impatient, I unleash a little more of my power. “You want to answer me,” I say, my voice hypnotic. “Now, tell me.”
The mean look in his eyes dissolves away; he stares at me like I’m some rare treasure. “In the Land of Nightmares, there’s a forest,” he says.
The Land of Nightmares …
Why does that sound familiar?
Memnos, I remember. The Land of Nightmares was another name for Memnos, one of the floating islands of the Night Kingdom. It was the only island Des didn’t take me to—and for good reason. It was where the creatures of nightmares lived.
“Deep in this forest, there is the Pit.” Galleghar’s gaze never wavers from mine. “Go to the Pit and travel as deep as you dare, and there you will find the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth and Thief himself.”
I exhale.
There it is, my long sought-after answer. My heart shudders to life. I want to laugh at all the hope I feel.
I will drag Des back up to the land of the living, and no one can stop me. Not even the Thief himself. For once, I will save the mate who’s saved me over and over again.
I glance over at Temper. Like the fairies in the room, she’s caught by the coils of my glamour, her eyes bright. Still, she manages a predatory smile.
Turning back to Galleghar, I shutter the full force of my power.
It’s the most natural thing in the world, strengthening and weakening my magic. And here I’d thought I had poor control over my siren. I’d never realized that I’d kept such a tight leash on my power this entire time, even when I had used it. At least, I hadn’t realized that until now, when I no longer cared about reining my alluring, destructive nature.
Galleghar’s expression flickers, then shifts, as my hold on him lessens. His features contort with his fury. I doubt anyone has treated him like this.
I study the former king, who’s still on his knees. Despite being a prisoner, he’s still dressed in fine linen, and he wears several rings.
“Let me see your hands.”
He fights my glamour, his hands trembling, but eventually he extends them out to me. Galleghar wears three bronze rings, one masterfully crafted to depict a crescent moon and stars, another one inset with a black stone, and the last one a simple band with a crudely carved face of a woman with wild hair, her mouth open in a scream.
My fingers land on that ring.
Beneath my touch, Galleghar’s skin jumps. Ignoring his reaction, I slip the ring off.
“What are you doing?” he demands.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, my voice lilting. “I’m taking your jewelry.” A memento to remember him by—the king I brought to his knees with a look alone. The man who abused his power in so many horrific ways. He’s powerless now, perhaps for the first time in his unnaturally long life.
His mouth moves, probably to curse my name, but then I think he remembers my warning.
I will make you eat your tongue.
Whatever he was going to say stays firmly behind his teeth. He settles on glaring at me some more, the hate in his eyes mixing with a little pain. Being powerless is a terrible, humiliating feeling. Both Des and I would know. We’d been powerless before, victims of our fathers’ cruelty. Eight years ago Des had dealt with mine; now I’m returning the favor.
“Tell me, fallen king,” I say conversationally, “how many of your own children have you killed?”
He growls at me, battling back the words. I wait, a small smile tugging at my lips. He can’t hold out forever.
“I … do not … know.” The words are ripped from his throat.
I raise my eyebrows. “That many.” It actually hurts, thinking about these long dead heirs, some who must’ve been children and babies when their own father came after them.
“And have you ever been brought to justice for these crimes?”
The room is rapt, watching this horror show unfold.
“No,” he grinds out from between his teeth.
“Then it’s time you faced punishment.”
Galleghar scowls at me, furious.
“How does the Night Kingdom repay the man who forced countless women into his harem?” I ask. “Women who he took advantage of, women whose children he slaughtered. How do we repay the man who allowed the Thief of Souls to kidnap thousands of soldiers and force unspeakable cruelties on them?
“How do you collect justice for something like that?” I ask him.
It’s quiet for several seconds, the two of us staring each other down.
“You cannot,” Galleghar finally spits out, answering my rhetorical question.
Now I smile, just a little.
“That,” I say softly, “is where you’re wrong.” My eyes move to the soldiers standing by the doors. “Guards, find the bog, and bring him here.”
Galleghar’s eyes widen, and now his anger is replaced by panic. The former Night King’s face reddens as he squirms against my glamour, fighting to break free. Strong as he is, he cannot.
I can feel Temper’s eyes on me, I can sense her surprise and feel the barest breath of her approval. She might not know what a bog is, but she knows I’m about to do something bad, and she’s okay with that. We both harbor monsters within us; she understands this.
The sentiment in the rest of the room is a mystery. There’s magic in the air, and it tastes of fear and anticipation and wicked delight, but the fairies themselves give no indication of their true feelings.
It takes an eternity for the creature to join us. The entire time I stare Galleghar down. It’s the ripple of voices through the room more than the monster itself that alerts me the bog has arrived.
Eventually, I see it creeping up the aisle.
I don’t know if I’m doing right by Desmond or anyone else, or if my own wickedness is overtaking me, but I do know that I feel no guilt.
None at all.
“I don’t know what your fears are,” I say to Galleghar, “but I hope the bog savors them as much as I will.”
Ours to kill, the siren protests.
But I’m saving the killing for another creature.
Galleghar’s upper lip curls, still pinned to the ground by my orders. “I hope the Thief makes you suffer,” he says as the bog’s shadowy form slips up to him.
The former king’s attention moves briefly from me to the monster closing in on him. His breath hitches.
Galleghar’s gaze skirts back to me. He won’t beg—even now he has too much misplaced pride for that—but his eyes are imploring me for mercy.
The time for mercy has long since passed.
“I want you to know,” I say, “I’m doing this for every woman you wronged, every child you killed, every person you hurt. But more than that, I want you to know that I’m doing this for Desmond and his mother—and I’m doing this for me.”
I turn to the bog. “Devour him.”
Chapter 40
I�
�m going to save you, Des.
That line repeats through my head as I stalk through the Night King’s palace, the gauzy dress I wear dragging along behind me.
Need to change.
“Girl, that was cold,” Temper says at my side as the two of us put distance between ourselves and the throne room.
“You would’ve done the same.”
She snorts. “I would’ve done worse. We all know that of the two of us, you’re the good cop.”
I used to be. Now, on the other hand …
“Des’s father can’t be killed,” I say.
At least, Galleghar can’t be killed so long as the Thief continues to prolong his unnatural life. That means that the bog might be able to scare the crap out of the fallen king, but he won’t die from the experience.
“Damn,” Temper says, “So you’re just going to let him rot away inside that creature?”
“No.”
Unfortunately.
“I still need Galleghar.”
Temper gives me a questioning look.
“He’s going to guide me to the Pit.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Oh shit. You’re going to try to save Des.”
Not try. I will save him.
She cracks her neck. “I’ve never been to the underworld before. This should be fun.”
“You’re not coming.” I don’t look at her when I say it.
For a beat, there’s silence.
Then—
“What? Of course I’m coming. Don’t make me get offended.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway and turn to her. “Temper, I’m probably going to die.”
And I can’t bear the thought of putting her life at risk in the process.
“One,” Temper says, “you’re not going to fucking die. This is not a suicide mission—otherwise, I’d be chaining your ass to one of the stupid marble sculptures littering this place rather than getting ready to pack my bags.
“And two, yeah, this is dangerous shit. You want to rescue your soulmate and kill that asshole Thief while you’re at it. I’m not even sure how you’re supposed to do that. What I do know is that you need a sorceress to help you out. I like frightening scary creatures and messing shit up in general. I’m coming with you.”
I hem and haw as the two of us stand there in the hallway. I mean, Temper is my ride or die bitch. And there’s no one better to have at your side than an angry sorceress when facing down an enemy of epic proportions.
But the thing is, the Thief has seemingly boundless power and influence.
“Temper, I don’t know how this is going to turn out, and I don’t want—”
I don’t want you to die.
She raises her eyebrows. “You actually think this fucktard freak could take me out? Now I am offended.” Her eyes briefly blaze with power.
Ugh, she’s impossible.
“Fine, come with me then.” Not going to fight with her over this.
She lets out a low laugh, her tongue running over her lower lip. I might love this lady, but right now Temper looks sinister.
“Girl,” she says, “let’s make that bastard pay.”
“I need weapons. Lots and lots of weapons,” I order one of my guards as Temper and I head towards my rooms. “And battle leathers. Bring enough for the two of us.”
The sorceress, for her part, is practically glowing with her excitement. She’s got a healthy appetite for revenge, this one.
Temper and I enter my chambers, and I try not to shudder at the sight of the rooms. I keep expecting Des to appear at any moment, his wry voice at my back.
But I’m not going to hear him or see him—not until I save him.
Several minutes later, a couple Night soldiers come to my chambers, their arms full of a wide variety of weapons and armor. They deposit the goods on the bed and retreat.
Once the door closes behind them, Temper and I begin to change.
Since Des isn’t here to magically help, suiting up takes a good ten minutes. As the two of us fasten and buckle on the battle leathers, we begin to arm ourselves—a sword here, a dagger there.
I slide my trusted daggers into their sheaths on either side of my hips while Temper picks up a double-headed axe.
“Look,” she says, “it’s lady-sized for my wee woman fingers.”
I snicker. The weapon is small. Temper slides the axe into a holster at her back. Guess its wee size works.
I finish cinching up a thigh holster and straighten.
There’s no more fear. I went from sorrow to desperation, to numbness, and now this.
Cold, hard determination.
Essence to essence. Breath for breath. I’ve been chipped away of my weaknesses. This is what’s beneath.
Dead or not, I’m getting my mate back, and so help the gods, I will bring down the universe if I have to.
Till darkness dies, Des.
Two hours later, Temper and I are standing in front of a moaning Galleghar, his body coated in a clear mucous-like substance, which I can only assume is the bog’s stomach acid.
The bog, for its part, is safely tucked away in the same unassuming box Des once released it from.
I frown down at Galleghar, who’s holding his head.
“Get up,” I command, my skin glowing.
He pushes himself up on shaky feet. When he takes me and Temper in, he lets out a cry that’s somewhere between feral anger and blinding fear.
The sorceress assesses him. “You never thought two slaves would fuck your life to shit, now, did you?”
Not just two slaves, two women, which for Galleghar is somehow worse.
“I will kill you,” he says, staggering forward.
“No, you won’t,” I say calmly. “What you will do is receive a shower, get some new clothes and help us.”
“You crazy bitch—”
“I don’t need your tongue, so unless you want to lose it, you will continue to speak to me and my sorceress friend here in the most reverential of ways.”
“I want him to call me ‘Great Goddess.’ Can you make that happen?” Temper says to me.
Staring at Galleghar, I say, “You will refer to the sorceress from here on out as ‘My Great Goddess of Fuckery and Other Magical Things.’ Understood?”
If Galleghar could spit fire right now, he would. Instead, he nods sharply, his nostrils flaring.
“Good,” I say. I motion to the soldiers standing post nearby. “Please get the traitor a bath and fresh clothing—and something to eat. He’ll need his strength for what’s to come.”
“What’s to come?” he echoes, a spark of fear lighting his eyes.
“Did I not tell you?” I say. “You’re taking us to Memnos.”
Memnos is supposed to be a frightening place, but when I catch sight of the dark island on the horizon, all I feel is a cold thrill.
Getting close now.
Des’s aides and his soldiers had all been reluctant to let me come here with nothing but a human and a traitor. They’d wanted to send in the last of their army, uncaring that the Thief of Souls could put them all to sleep in an instant if it pleased them.
So I ignored their advice. In the end, they couldn’t do much about it—not when I had glamour working for me.
The three of us close in on the island, Temper cradled in Galleghar’s arms. The once mighty king is now nothing more than our errand boy. He wears a venomous look, but he’s magically enslaved to my orders. And so he obediently leads us forward, towards the floating island.
When we reach it, we pass over a small city. The lights below us are muted, the smell of blood and corrupted magic tinges the air. I can practically feel the danger radiating off the land.
The buildings give away to thick, blighted forests with shadowy trees and strange light glittering from within their depths. The woods are only broken up by the odd fortress or cottage, the structures looking downright nefarious.
The trees thin out, and those that remain look weak and warped. It’s amongst th
ese trees that we land.
I drop to my feet, folding my wings up as Galleghar lands ahead of me.
His arms shake as he gently releases Temper. I can tell he badly wants to throw my friend to the ground, but my glamour forbids him from harming the sorceress.
“Where’s the Pit?” Temper asks, looking around.
“Up ahead … My Great Goddess of Fuckery and Other Magical Things.” He mumbles the last part.
“Speak up,” I command.
His eyes shoot daggers at me. “I said, it’s up ahead … Oh Dark Queen Who Thinks I’m a Douchebucket of the Most Epic Proportions.”
Temper smirks. “What is your name again?” she asks him.
He curls his lip at her.
“Callie?” Temper says, calling for a little assistance.
“Answer her,” I order.
He grinds his teeth. “Galleghar O’Malleghar, King of Asshats, Killer of Boners, Wannabe Emperor Who Needs to Eat a Bag of Dicks and Die.”
The titles clearly got a little out of hand.
I mean, we might not be able to kill him or bring him to justice, but we can humiliate the shit out of him.
I gesture around us. “Lead us to the Pit.”
The forest is preternaturally quiet … until it isn’t.
First, it’s an angry yowl of some lone creature. Then the caw of a crow joins it. Within minutes, the woods are full of hisses and howls, wails and half-mad cries.
“Fucking creepy,” Temper whispers next to me.
The noises aren’t the worst thing about this place. I can feel a dozen different sets of eyes on me as we cut through the sparsely wooded forest. I’m still glowing like a beacon, my power drawing in an increasing number of fae. More malevolent magic tinges the air, and it’s only getting worse the farther we walk.
The last of the trees clear, and I see it—the Pit.
The thing is massive; it looks like a sinkhole, its depths cast into darkness. The longer I stare at it, the more I realize that the darkness is moving, writing about either with living things or magic.
Don’t want to go down there.
My very bones protest getting any closer.
Two shadowy creatures separate themselves from the darkness. They’re longer and more spindly than a regular fairy, but I can smell their fae magic.
Dark Harmony (The Bargainer Book 3) Page 30