The Thief hadn’t been able to get his hands on Des until that deal. Not when the Night King made a habit of obliterating the fae the Thief controlled. So Des came to him and struck a deal that made my mate seem weak and desperate. And Euribios, in all his pride and power, believed it.
“With the shadows,” Des continues, “I promised to rid them of Euribios for once and for all if they were willing to deceive him.”
The shadows that wouldn’t speak of the Thief of Souls.
“That’s a big promise,” I say. “How did the shadows do it?”
“You mean, how did they trick the Thief?”
I nod.
“Power is sentient—it can make decisions for itself.”
Des and I knew that better than most. It was what kept us apart for seven years.
“The shadows are a part of that sentience,” Des continues, “and they are what Euribios derives his power from—as do I.
“And that was the Thief’s fatal mistake. The god forgot that our power comes from the same source, a source has its own free will. So the shadows and I—we tricked him.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I spoke to the darkness during the only times I knew the Thief wasn’t listening—when you dreamed of him.”
All those sick dreams—Des couldn’t stop them from happening, but he could use them against the Thief.
“The shadows told me everything I needed to know, and it was them who helped me strike the deal with Euribios. And when the time came, it was the shadows that severed the Thief’s hold on me.”
He trusted the darkness with everything that mattered to him. .
“Why do you think the shadows helped you?” I ask. For years they’d been unwilling to breathe a word against the Thief.
Des stares down at me, his gaze intense. “Even before I could really use my power, I spoke to the darkness. They were my first friends.”
I think of that lonely, pale-haired boy who lived on Arestys, and my heart aches for him, even though that boy’s struggles made him the man I love.
“Euribios brutalized them just as he brutalized the fae. He abused them into submission eons ago, until the God of Light defeated him and freed the shadows. But then my father unleashed Euribios, and the shadows were forced to cower before his power once more.
“It’s not in the nature of shadows to be disloyal—even to terrible creatures—but they learned what it was like to exist outside of fear, and that is not something you can forget.”
What Des doesn’t add is that fear probably wasn’t the only factor that swayed these shadows. Desmond Flynn is beloved by the darkness.
“And so, with your help,” I say, “the shadows turned on their god.”
Des squeezes my hand, his eyes flashing in a very fae way.
“And so they did.”
After the Bargainer finishes explaining himself, we continue heading back through the palace. My thoughts are spinning a mile a minute from all that Des has told me. Faked deaths, disloyal shadows, and the secrets that saved us all.
I only shake off these thoughts when the two of us enter the room I found Des in. The altar still rests where I last saw it, along with all those shelves of potions and medical instruments and books with gilded titles. On the floor are my discarded weapons and the shattered remains of the objects previously knocked from the shelves.
None of that, however, is what catches the Bargainer’s attention.
His gaze locks on the slumped form on the other end of the room. In an instant he disappears from my side, reappearing—wings and all—next to the body of Galleghar Nyx.
I pace over to my discarded weapons, fastening them back on before I dare to creep closer to Des and his father. Part of me is fearful that Galleghar is still alive. Evil fathers have a way of defying death. In fact, this whole situation has the ring of déjà vu to it, only my and Des’s roles are reversed.
The Bargainer kneels, his white blond hair skimming his jawline as he stares down at the man who gave him life and death in equal measure.
“Is he dead?” I ask.
“Quite.” Des’s gaze travels over him.
The Bargainer’s hand touches one of his father’s chest wounds. He studies Galleghar’s injuries for a long time before he finally glances up. “He was right to fear you. You did kill him in the end.”
“That was the Thief.”
“You killed the Thief, and with the Thief’s death, the bond they shared broke. The Thief could no longer keep Galleghar’s death at bay.”
Birds, meet stone.
There are still so many questions I have—like why Euribios woke Galleghar when he did, and why the old god decided to uphold his end of their bargain when he so obviously could’ve broken his oath—but I fear I won’t get answers.
As we stare down at Des’s dead father, a spectral hand separates itself from Galleghar’s body, then an arm.
Oh geez, I forgot where we were.
The Thief was right about one thing: the dead don’t ever really die if you’re kicking it in the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth. They just change form.
A chill runs over me. Is that what happened to the Thief? Did he just change form?
No, I refuse to believe that.
Des stands, grimacing down at the man. “I wonder if it’s possible to beat the shit out of spirits …”
I take Des’s hand as Galleghar’s spirit begins to separate from his body. “Leave your father to his fate.” I’m sure even the afterlife has its own form of punishment for the wicked.
With that, the two of us leave the room and Des’s father behind.
Before we leave, we free the prisoners locked in the castle’s dungeons. There are forty-four of them in total, all that remains of the prior ruling house.
Their bodies are scarred and emaciated, their eyes have lost that spark hope. One look at them and it’s clear that the Thief won’t be the last struggle this kingdom faces.
And yet, not an hour after they’re released, several of them have moved to the dock, pointing at this or that section of the neglected ship. And the ferryman I saw earlier now wades through the Well of Resurrection, pulling out the spirits, one by one. It’s one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot at this point.
Des steps up to me, his fingers entwining through mine. “Much as I’ve enjoyed our revelries here, I do believe it’s time to go, Callie.”
God, I couldn’t agree more.
We make our way through the castle and back out the front doors.
Above us, the darkness has fled. There’s a sun low on the horizon and cotton candy skies above us. Under the light, even the pale gardens look different—less ominous and more peaceful.
The two of us walk down the path that winds its way from the castle entrance to the archway I passed through earlier, only from this side, the doorway doesn’t quite look the same.
We come to a stop in front of it. On this side, two stone doors are fitted into the enormous archway. Extending from either side of them are massive stone walls that encircle the palace grounds.
I eye the barred gates in front of us. Just before I think we might have to smash into it, the doors creak open, revealing the inky darkness of the Pit beyond it.
“That was … easy,” I say.
All the myths promised that escape from the land of the dead was impossible. But what do I know? No one gave me a guidebook to this place.
“The hard part is coming up,” Des says ominously.
The two of us walk through the gateway, and I only have to struggle a little against whatever enchantments have been placed on it.
When we enter the Pit, Des illuminates the space. He whistles at the sea of skeletons. “That’s a lot of dead bodies.”
It’s a sad sight, but at least the fairy who drove these soldiers to their deaths has now been stopped.
Des comes over to me and wraps a hand around my waist. At his back, his talon-tipped wings shimmer into existence.
“Hold on, cherub,” he says.
“What are you—?”
He launches us up, and the rush of air steals away my words.
Unlike the trip down, nothing touches either Des or me as we ascend. The creatures are either still under my glamour … or they know better than to harm their king.
We barrel upwards for who knows how long before I start to feel it.
Magic.
It bears down on us, pressing against my skin, wanting us to stay in the land of the dead. The higher we climb, the heavier it is. And then it’s not simply pushing down upon us, but inside us, clawing against our flesh from the inside out. It feels like the time I flew on an airplane when I had a sinus infection. My ears are screaming at the pressure, my skin is starting to sting.
We’re never going to make it.
“There’s no easy way to do this, cherub, but it’ll be over soon,” Des says against me.
You mean it’s going to get worse?
The thought has hardly crossed my mind when it does in fact get worse. God it does. My skin lights up as I begin to moan. My entire body is getting crushed by the weight of the magic.
I’m just about to let loose the mother of all screams when—
BOOM!
The magic explodes around us, rippling over my skin.
And then we’re through.
I can sense it stitching itself back together beneath us. I glance down at the darkness, unnerved. It was so easy to enter the land of the dead, like easing into a tub, but near impossible to escape it.
It’s as I gaze into the Pit that I see the glint of a pair of eyes, trapped on the other side of the magical barrier. They stare at me for a moment before plunging back into the inky shadows.
A shudder works its way through me. Good riddance.
When we crest the ridge of the Pit, I catch sight of hundreds of fae who’ve have gathered around it.
News of my face-off with the King of Death and Deep Earth clearly spread.
And at the front of them is Temper, who looks immensely relieved.
As soon as the crowd sees us, they begin to cheer, the night alighting with the sounds of claps and whistles and sparks of light.
We land in front of Temper.
She grabs me, hugging me tightly. “Thank fuck you’re back,” my best friend says. “You were gone for too long.”
Des steps up to us, and Temper opens one of her arms. “You get in here too, Desmond. You’re my brother now.”
He steps in with a shy smile, letting my best friend crush him in our embrace.
“Did you kill that motherfucker?” Temper asks, releasing us.
I meet her eyes. “What do you think?”
She stares at me for a moment, then lets out a laugh. “Ha-ha, you badass bitch. I hope you gave him my regards before you blew his ass to smithereens.”
I shake my head, a whisper of a smile curling my lips.
Des breaks away from us to rise into the air.
The crowd, which had been murmuring upon our arrival, now quiets.
My mate’s eyes move over the group of them. “For the last decade, our kingdom has been plagued by the Thief of Souls.” Magic amplifies Des’s voice, and it booms out into the night. “He kidnapped our soldiers, raped our women, and started a war among our world. He destroyed our peace and the sanctity of our kingdom.
“It was only recently that we discovered that the Thief of Souls had raided the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth and taken the throne by force. Days ago, he took me hostage, keeping me prisoner in his castle.
“When all the world thought me lost, my soulmate—your queen—marched down to the gates of the underworld and faced the Thief head on.”
No one speaks, though I feel all sorts of eyes move to me.
Des gestures for me to join him where he hovers in the sky. Reluctantly, I do.
Once I’m by his side, he stares at me. I can see an entire universe in his moonlit eyes.
“But Callypso Lillis, Queen of the Night, didn’t just face any foe. The Thief of Souls was none other than Euribios, the primordial god of death and the dark.”
There are intakes of breath throughout the gathered crowd, then thoughtful murmurs as they take me in.
“Your queen faced Euribios, and she vanquished him.”
Gasps. I can feel those gazes on me like the hands of the dead. But it’s the Bargainer’s gaze that holds me rapt. He gives me a soft smile before announcing to the gathered crowd. “The Thief is no more.”
Back in Somnia, the royal prison is suddenly full of very confused fae soldiers. Among them are Janus and Malaki.
“Has someone been naughty while I’ve been away?” Des asks from the other side of the bars.
“What is going on?” Janus demands as the iron door slides back.
“Callie killed one of your great and mighty gods,” Temper says from where she stands next to me. “Not to be rude, but y’all got some weak ass gods if this bitch can trounce them,” she says, nudging me.
“Hey!”
“What?” the sorceress says. “I’m kidding.”
“Temper.” Malaki’s deep voice has my friend sobering up.
He steps up to her, ignoring me and Des and every other individual swarming the halls of the dungeon. His eyes are fixed on Temper, and his wings—his wings are out.
He touches her cheek, and that’s all it takes for my fiery friend to soften. She slips into Malaki’s arms.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she says, “or I’ll kill you myself.”
Des’s general holds Temper tightly, and it’s a testament to whatever they’ve got going on that he doesn’t take that threat the wrong way.
Janus looks between us. “Seriously, is anyone going to tell me why I’m in the Night Kingdom’s dungeon?”
The Bargainer’s eyes fall on me while he plays with the beads on his bracelet. “The queen and I would be delighted to fill you in—” he says to Janus, “for a price, of course.” He winks at me.
Eight years ago, this began with a dead man and a deal. And now, here we are, with a few more dead men and a few more deals under our belts.
I take Des’s hand, and the two of us lead the group out of the dungeon.
The King of the Night brings our clasped hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of mine. His silver eyes gleam.
This man.
He’s the Bargainer who saved my life over and over again, and the king who I ended up saving, a time or two.
He’s a trickster, a secret-keeper. He’s the dark side of the moon. He’s my beautiful, terrible mystery.
My friend. My soulmate.
From flame to ashes, dawn to dusk—until darkness dies.
He’s mine, and I’m his, always.
Epilogue
7 years later
Des and I land in our backyard, our wings folding up behind us. Overhead, the stars glitter down, and far below our yard, the Pacific crashes against the beach.
Twining my fingers through Des’s, I start towards the house. My eyes go to the moss-lined shingles and the weathered exterior. The paint is peeling off a little, but I’m hesitant to redo it. When I bought this house a decade ago, it’s imperfections were what I cherished most about it—well, that and the ocean in the backyard.
Our house on Catalina Island can be the pretty one. This is our homey bungalow.
I lead Des to the sliding glass door. With a snick, it opens, revealing our bedroom beyond.
The walls are covered in photographs of faraway cities. The only thing consistent about them is the smiling couple in each—Des’s light features pressed closely to my dark ones.
Scattered among the photographs is the Bargainer’s artwork—most depicting Otherworld cities we’ve been to that my camera conveniently can’t capture. Of course, there are a few embarrassing sketches of me, a couple which are borderline inappropriate.
That’s what I get for still being a sucker that makes deals with the Bargainer.
And the rest of the room is filled with kitschy trinkets—some from this world, some from another. Most are the result of one of Des’s rigged dares—like the enormous sombrero pinned on the wall that he got me to wear for an entire evening. But some, like the Cycladic figurine sitting on our bookshelf, are gifts we’ve given each other.
But all of it is a testament to the incredible life we live.
Ahead of us, the comforter slides back from the bed.
I give Des the side eye. “That’s a bit presumptuous.”
“No, cherub. This is presumptuous.”
The top button on my pants pops open, and my zipper slides down. My shirt begins to tug itself up.
My skin brightens with interest because even after all these years, my siren is still a hussy when it comes to Des.
The King of the Night laughs and scoops me up, tossing me lightly onto the bed. “Phew,” he says. “I’ve still got it.”
He drapes himself over the lower half of my body, his torso conveniently nestled between my legs.
Des smooths his hands down my inner thighs, his gaze caught on mine. I feel the cool brush of his bracelet against my skin. I wear its twin on my own wrist.
Favors we owe each other.
Des still moonlights as a Bargainer, and I join him on his deals probably more than I should, especially considering that I still do part-time work with Temper at West Coast investigations … and I help rule a kingdom.
I feel a brush of magic, and the Metallica shirt Des wears now slips off. My fingers trail over his tattoos. I trace the rosary of black beads twisting up his arms. If I took the time to count them all, I’d find there were 322 of them, the exact number of beads that first bound me to him.
“You owe me a few favors, cherub.” He punctuates that declaration with a kiss to the hollow beneath my throat. His pelvis moves against me, and my core flares to life.
I thread my fingers through his white hair, tilting his head back so our gazes meet. “You owe me a few favors yourself.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Is that right?” I feel the faintest breath of his magic as my shirt melts off of me. “Lucky for you, I think I know just the thing to clear me of my debts …”
Dark Harmony (The Bargainer Book 3) Page 36