by Karey Brown
“What did you say? You’re speaking in that weird language again.”
“I would have my vaifyr and my vaifyn know our sacrifice is for their survival.”
“Son and daughter?”
“As their father, I commanded they settle, lest they prematurely leave the safety of your womb.”
Emily clutched her stomach. “Miscarriage?” Panic seized.
He chuckled. “Quick they are to want revenge for the anguish their mother feels. They think to do me harm.”
“You’re simply trying to make me feel better.”
“My children already speak to me, Keer’dra. As I hear everything in your mind, so too, do I hear theirs. Be warned, it won’t be our son who will be the rapscallion.” Devilry pooled his eyes, spreading to his chiseled mouth by way of a wry grin. “Feisty, like her mother, and grandmother before.”
“My thoughts are never going to be my own again, are they?”
“They never were. Nor will your fantasies. I am especially anxious to fulfill the one where I am in full Daemon form and you are on your knees.”
She blushed, whacked his arm, and blushed more. “Jeeze, Dez.” She took a few more bites of her food, stabbed a few morsels from his plate and sniffed. “Safe?”
“That part is.”
“Tastes like pineapple.”
“Because, it is.”
She laughed. “I thought it was something savage.”
“Here, if you’re looking for savage, have half this kidney. It still bleeds.”
Emily reared. “Uber eeeewwww!” Her fork clanged onto her plate. “We’ve never spoken names for the two heathens threatening you.” She laughed more.
“My mother holds rights to name my descendants.”
“Yippee.”
He cupped her chin. “I think I should continue my downfall and break yet another Lumynari tradition. Remember their names should at least signify the positions they will hold. They are both royal and they will be gods.”
“I would have his name be Denzyr.”
Azure eyes softened. “Half of me, half to honor your father. The arrogance of your sire will be limitless. I may have to increase my stock of poisons. And the little sorceress?”
“Kendara.”
“For your mother?”
“For my mother.”
“Kendara,” he said slowly.
Flutters rippled within her.
“It would seem they approve,” Dezenial announced for his offspring.
“Good thing, since the choice isn’t theirs.”
“A firm hand will be needed.”
“Spoilt children make for rotten adults.”
Dezenial looked stricken. “They’re Lumynari. I prefer them rotten.” He deflated. “I supposed you’ll teach them table manners, and an honorable code of behavior, completely ruining them?”
Tears welled. “Absolutely.” She covered her trembling mouth. She was going to have to leave him. God! But divine intervention did not step in and lessen the pain currently stabbing her chest. And why would He? She’d chosen a Daemon for mate.
Dezenial pulled her back into his arms, and for an immeasurable amount of time, they clung.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“See that the men are ready to move out by first light,” Broc commanded.
Garreck nodded, has hand habitually resting on hilt of sword while he walked beside his laird. “I still cannot abide the Elders and Pendaran’s refusal to share knowledge of how to enter the cities below.”
“They think to protect us.”
“Why would it matter now?” Garreck gave a quick scan of their surroundings, worried they’d be overheard. “Lady Emily has chosen ta’ remain with the Lumynari. But, has she really? Do ye’ think ‘tis the dark magic?”
“Nay, I do not.”
They strode the campsite perimeter in silence until Garreck sighed deeply. “If you should see her ever again?”
Broc studied the white terrain around them. Riders galloped in. Their slumped shoulders, lack of usual taunts, and overall negative dispositions revealed to Broc that no entries into the Lumynari realm had been discovered. His attention swiveled to the grizzled Elders. Stench of magic soiled the air. He knew with certainty of sunrise they were behind the failed attempts to locate Emily. The why of it, he could not speculate without coming close to drawing his sword.
“I would tell her I love her. I would beg forgiveness for this life and Aurelia’s.”
Garreck caught himself before sitting heavily and ending up with his arse in the snow, looking as dumbfounded as he felt. A curt nod, and he stomped away, calling a few squires to help him spread the laird’s command for withdrawal.
* * * * *
“Do you have problems with invasions?”
“Invasions?”
“Homeland security?”
Dezenial flogged her a look of pure ridiculousness.
“Sorry. This silence is getting a bit long, and you did threaten that if I taught Rover here another ditty like Row, Row, Row Your Boat, you’d skin us both. Alive.” They’d been journeying downward, long winding tunnels illuminated by torches producing little heat and even less light. She wondered if these guards were Dezenial’s Netherworld buddies or real Lumynari. She was quite tempted to request a plastic jack o’lantern to put her candy in, should they happen upon a door, thus, giving her an opportunity to say, Trick or Treat.
I wouldn’t advise it.
She made a face at Dezenial’s back.
“Put a Lumynari in charge of any country’s security, it would cease to be an issue.”
“Massacre all, ask questions later,” Emily quipped.
“Massacre all. What questions?”
Emily giggled. “You’re awful.”
“It’s a lifetime of perfecting. Eventually, you will be successful at it as well.”
“Do you think?” She clasped her hands, doing her best imitation of a very young Shirley Temple. “And, gee, do you think we could hold hands, and wish upon a star so that I too can be just as dark and dangerous as you? Oh puhleeeeeze, kind sir?” She even managed to make her eyes well up with tears. “I just know we can. I just know, if we truly believe—“
“Your death will be slow and painful if you continue even one more word of your ridiculous barrage!”
“Oh puhleeeeeze, kind sir, why wait?” Eldaryn whined, padding behind, keeping rear guard.
“Now you think I’m ridiculous?” Hot tears burned her eyes.
“Tonight will be our last dinner.”
She sniffed. “Why? What’s happening?” Was their time to part already upon them?
“I’m drowning myself in the bathing chamber.”
She smacked his back. “Tyrant.”
“Witch.”
“My endurance thins over your lacking compassion for those of us forced to endure your pathetic attempts to battle each other.”
“I thought you said you were gonna muzzle him?” Emily whispered overly loud.
“Muzzle? What is this muzzle?” Eldaryn asked.
“Silence. We approach the bridge,” Dezenial commanded.
“You will not succeed in your attempt to dismantle my question in regards to this muzzle, Lumynari.”
“His eyes are turning red,” Emily warned.
Eldaryn scoffed. “His eyes are always turning red. Daemons are in a permanent state of ferociousness.”
Emily saddled a bit closer to her husband, wrapping her hand around his bicep, plying him with motherly little pats. “It’s okay, honey, you can kill him later. You have my blessing. We’ll stew him, and whatever’s left, we can use for a throw rug.”
“More caution from here forward, Emily,” Dezenial warned in a low voice. His eyes were everywhere, though his expression remained passive. “Your father asked us to join him for the evening meal you so relish forcing us to sit down to, so our time here is short. Take this.”
He presented her with a wicked dagger. Emily turned it over, daunted by it
s lethal beauty. Its creator didn’t feel the serrated blade would be enough, of course not, he, or she, decided to have the thing look like a double ‘S’ with its tip serrated on both sides. “Where exactly am I supposed to carry this? It doesn’t match a thing I’m wearing, not to mention the shape leaves something to the imagination of how to attempt a sneak attack.”
“Thrust it with as much gusto as you do your observations,” Eldaryn snapped.
“You mean, like this?”
Eight-hundred pounds of Oltheg collapsed, legs sprawled, one of his heads nearly decapitated. Her amazement obscured threatening growls and Dezenial’s heartened chuckles at his mate’s volatile temper. “I’ve warned you that her Lumynari side strengthens the longer she resides down here amongst her kin,” Dezenial stated.
Emily was busy flicking the dagger over and over, its blade snaking out like a deadly viper.
“A hormonally unbridled woman, Lumynari blood mixed in, and he hands her a weapon.” Eldaryn picked himself up, mustering what dignity remained. “For an encore, shall we anticipate you introducing your new chef to your private stash of poisons?” Both Eldaryn’s heads scowled down at the lethal Shadow Master.
“A magic dagger.” Emily nodded slowly. “Who would have thought? I mean,” she motioned her surroundings, “I don’t know, my first clue should have been the death squad forever escorting us, or perhaps—“
“Keer’dra,” Dezenial hoarsed. “Spinner. To your right. Drop!”
Emily screamed. Dropped to her knees, her sword whipping around in hopes of lopping off a few icky arms.
Empty air stared back.
Dezenial and Eldaryn erupted into laughter. Even their guards grinned, enjoying the ruse.
Emily’s gaze narrowed.
“Not one spark, Keer’dra.”
“I have far more powerful weapons to use against you other than simple fire, ari.” Her tongue darted out, quickly moistening her bottom lip. Dezenial ignored her threat and her tease.
“As tempting as that is, we must end our quibble. A master horticulturist, and temperamental, the maggot tries my patience, too secure in the knowledge I cherish what he grows. If we’re late, he’ll not linger. Waiting, it would seem, is above him.”
“And yet, he still lives? You’re softening with age.”
“It’s the mortals I surround myself with.”
Emily extended her strides, catching up with her husband, holding her skirt up a bit so as to not break her neck over its long hem. Her boots warmed her, hugging her legs like black velvet gloves. Dez most enjoyed placing them on her, his strong hands caressing her calves . . . if she could reciprocate by oh-so-lovingly pulling up his black leather waxed-on leggings. She shuddered and almost skipped, smiling a woman’s secret smile. Surely, he wore them for the sole intent of keeping her speechless, being that it was his only attire! If she stood in front of him, man-package made her mindless. If she walked behind him, his perfectly curved ass screamed for her to cup with her—
Keer’dra! If you continue those thoughts entertaining you, I will be forced to tuck you into one of these numerous caverns we pass and remove these leggings you obsess over.
Oh, God, could you? Devilry plagued her. A few more visuals were conjured of what she’d like to do to him in Daemon form. For added merit, she wonder if everything expanded, not just his wings.
A wild grin erupted across his face as he stopped and whipped around to look down at her. “Why do you cherish such dangerous games, Keer’dra?”
Her attention snapped to the left of their small party. “Dez?” Her voice quaked. Her footsteps acted of their own resolve. Fixated, she gravitated towards varied jagged walls and stalactites so large, they were used as living quarters, meeting halls, and tawdry sex. None of this commanded her attention. A fissure and several stories tall, was filled with such darkness, she shuddered. The massive rip in the wall appeared to be screaming!
Horror siphoned her mind into its depths. Darkness crept out, a living thing, eclipsing her surroundings. Color dissipated. Cold settled in . . . and shadows. Death enveloped her , rancid from the brine of a thousand years of carnage. He pulled away from his shroud of darkness, cobra intense stare imprisoning her. The barest hint of a smile touched the corners of his cruel mouth. Arrogant in his stance, one booted foot rested upon a rock, his massive arms folded as he glowered down at her. Depravity saturated her soul.
Drakar.
His smile broadened, offering her the barest of nods, as if they’d been introduced.
“It would seem our prince lacks ability to remember the rules of Balkore.” His abrasive voice sounded like someone having gargled venom. Shouting penetrated from so far away, she assumed it to be her soul crying out. Never had she faced such evil. Thick. Suffocating. Visions of mutilating horror screamed through her mind, thousands of voices wailing in agony.
“You will come to me, Princess Emily,” Drakar whispered, his wicked voice clearing the agony within her skull. But, as soon as he finished speaking, wailing surged. If she went to him, he could halt the cries of the damned.
“Keer’dra!”
Emily screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Her eyes focused. Dezenial held her. Muttering surrounded her. Dezenial, muttering. His arm banded around her, pinning her to him, his other hand cupping the back of her head. “Long moments I have called to you. Show me, Keer’dra. Show me what you see. I will keep you safe, little one.”
Warmth penetrated her temples. Drakar’s guttural laughter pulled her deeper into his quagmire of terror, and away from Dezenial’s light.
“Eldaryn, guard us. She’s slipped too far away,” Dezenial commanded the Oltheg in their ancient language. “I have no choice but to enter her mind by force.”
“My hackles rise. Things are not as they seem.” One of Eldaryn’s snouts raised, sniffing. The Lumynari guards shuffled, tightened their hold on weapons, they too dissecting their surroundings. “A feast?”
“No, these Lumynari are not who they seem.” Dezenial raised his hand. An arc of light manifested from his fingers before he pitched his arm back and threw the small orb towards the far ridge. “Daemons, show your true form.”
Lumynari warriors morphed into gargoyles. A few craned their necks, giant wings stretching at odd angles before settling back into their folded reserve.
“Ah, your father’s Elite. Thought I smelled burnt flesh of Daemon hide.”
“Emily’s life can be trusted to none other, save for yourself, Eldaryn.”
“And upon the ridge?”
“Her father and his squad track us. Guard, Eldaryn. Our lives may depend upon it.” Dezenial muttered incantations as his mouth descended towards Emily’s ear. “Your eyes become mine, your mind no longer your own.” He breathed in her essences and, in the taking, absorbed her terror.
Darkness engulfed. Peripheral vision vanished. Color ceased to exist.
“Hello, Highness, or should I use your new title, The Great Betrayer? Decided to join our chat?”
“Three thousand years, and you still scavenge like rats,” Dezenial hissed.
Drakar’s fanatical gaze narrowed dangerously. “You are branded traitor, slinking into my city, into my prisons—“
“No city in Balkore belongs to you. Careful your treasonous claims, sewage rat.”
“Treason?” Hissing ensued before Emily realized it was laughter.
Her mind closed.
“The Keeper is very strong. Her mind drifts from my hold.” Eyes glittered fury. “Not for long. You must know by now your mother no longer remains idle, amused by your despicable whims.”
“My mother’s approval is not something I’ve ever groveled for, Drakar.”
“I hardly need to grovel when I have in my possession a book of vast power and now the Keeper along with it.”
“Once again, you prove lacking. True Lumynari kill. As usual, you quibble.” Dezenial turned Emily towards him, pressing her ear against his chest so that his heartbeat would be heard by her soul,
beckoning her to return from whence she mentally hid.
“Tell me, will you cower in the bowels of Balkore, as before, when I kill your Im’pyur?”
“Do you really think you retain such an ability?”
Drakar’s smile uncoiled. “Your downfall but a few minutes from occurring, and me, here, about to carve your seeds from your concubine.”
Dezenial’s eyes burned crimson to such magnitude, the cavern became engulfed with a red hue.
Drakar’s stance faltered. “Lumynari eyes are amber, not blood red. What sort of beast did your mother spread her legs for to create you?”
“Careful. I might be tempted to show you.” Incisors lengthened. Emily was not returning as easily as he’d hoped. He would have to taste her soul, forcing her from her haven. It had the added benefit of stripping Drakar of his casual manner.
“Gods, what are you? ‘Tis bad enough your mother actually granted you life, where she kills her other get, but to allow a beast to live—ah, that’s it. You were an animal for her to toy with. A favorite pet.”
Dezenial smirked before sinking fangs deep into Emily’s neck. Torturous not to close his eyes and savor the taste of her, but he dared not remove his visual stake from Drakar.
“Dez?”
“Remain facing me.”
“Cold.”
“You have been touched by evil. Drink from me to heal your soul.” Dezenial pushed his wrist against Emily’s mouth until he felt her own incisors bite into him.
Drakar snarled with rage. “What manner of Lumynari are you that you drink blood, and from an animal?”
“The manner that is son of Hades.”
“Hades—“ Drakar stumbled back. “No!”
But, it was too late for Drakar. Dezenial’s hand morphed into talons, grasped the air in front of Drakar and yanked. Drakar lurched, clawing his neck. Emily pulled free from her bite, but Dezenial pressed her head against him with his free hand, forfeiting her ability to view more horror.
Drakar screamed. Spittle ran from his mouth. His body quaked as his eyes lolled.
“Flesh to brine, soul to burn, I damn you, Drakar, demons to dine.”
Gurgling, legs buckling, Drakar’s flesh began to pop and sizzle.