Vengeance

by Carrie Whitethorne

  I held her gaze for a moment before adding, “Show them my face. Tell them to expect me. We take the fight to the fae. There won’t be another chance.”

  I’d barely finished speaking when she snatched her hand away and abruptly left.

  There was no farewell, I didn’t offer one of my own, and I didn’t watch her go.

  Instead, I closed my eyes and released a heavy breath.

  “It really is a beautiful language,” a new voice remarked. “A shame my daughter doesn’t speak it, she would be much easier to woo.”

  I pushed to my feet while drawing the pistol from my side and sliding off the safety in a seamless, practiced move.

  My new companion was sitting on a bench a little way down, and he looked to be easily six feet tall and was dressed in a tailored black suit. He didn’t appear to be fae, but there was an air of arrogance to him that warned of his power. “Calm yourself, boy.”

  With a few more seconds to study his face, I lowered my weapon and countered, “The daughter you’ve never met?”

  “We could sit here and debate the negative effects of absentee parents versus early teen abandonment on a child, or we could combine our gifts to see Sorrel’s vendetta through to its completion,” he suggested smoothly.

  I hated the arrogant bastard already, but he had my attention. I returned the pistol to its holster and asked, “You intend to help her?”

  With an impatient sigh, he rose to his feet. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I have always watched over my daughter and always will. Now, with your unfounded grilling out of the way, it is time my daughter had the support she deserves. I’m here to offer you a ride.”

  I sat back on the bench and looked up at him.

  He almost rolled his eyes. “To her house. And before you begin the age-old internal debate of whether to trust the demon, I must remind you that our shared interest is currently alone with a hefty price upon her head.”

  “I know,” I answered, standing and gazing around. “I spoke to her recently.”

  “Then you know she has a demon held captive in her attic?” he challenged, clearly hoping to catch me off guard.

  “The one she was sleeping with, Devan, was it? Yeah, he’s tied to the bed I slept in a few nights ago. I’m ready when you are.”

  His lips twitched in an amused smirk, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and summoned an extravigant cane from thin air, waved it before us, and opened a gate.

  Not waiting for his invitation, I stepped right in.

  We emerged in sight of Sorrel’s cabin, and I looked around us as I considered reaching for my weapon.

  “The beast has no interest in us,” the demon declared, walking toward the house. “He protects Sorrel. We are not her enemies.”

  I remained silent.

  “Hold out your right arm,” he ordered, not breaking his stride.

  I frowned at his back but did as he said when a heavy pack appeared, hanging by its strap.

  “Essentials,” he explained, as I swung it onto my back. “There are conditions to my trusting you, Mr. Cox. The first is that you protect my daughter with your life. The second is that you do not leave her unattended. From now on, she goes nowhere without support. There will be others, and I understand you have your own business to attend to as this situation comes to a head, but my preferred escort for my daughter is the man who knows what is likely to happen next.”

  I was wondering if that was his idea of giving me his blessing, but since I didn’t hold to many of my people’s traditions after decades out on my own, and given Sorrel was no more Romani than her father was, I kept it to myself. Instead, I inquired, “And if she doesn’t want me in her home?”

  We’d reached the gate to Sorrel’s cabin, but instead of opening it, he stopped and turned to face me. “You must have been busy, apologies,” he said, reaching into his pants pocket. “Remove the stopper and allow the scene to play through. That should tell you all you need to know about my daughter’s feelings toward you. When it is done, come knock on the door. I’m sure Sorrel will be pleased to see you.”

  He tossed the small glass vial to me and turned to enter the garden, only to be stopped short by an invisible barrier.

  I stifled my snort of amusement as one of Sorrel’s protection charms sprang to life, a loud boom echoing through the tranquil woodland, sending birds flying from the treetops in panic.

  Not wanting to witness a second failed attempt at breaking in, I turned my back on the cabin and its wildflower garden, dropped my pack, and sat on the grass to witness whatever scene the demon prince thought would interest me.

  Chapter 19

  Sorrel

  The demon glared at me, his golden irises gleaming in the low light of the attic.

  He was short, considerably shorter than I’d anticipated at least. Maybe five foot two without the horns, and they weren’t all that impressive, more like disappointing stumps than demonic horns. He was old, too, and naked. I was used to scantily clad demons, Liesel was a perfect example, but this was just grotesque.

  His snub nose wrinkled as he looked me up and down, a small grunt of disgust reverberating in his throat.

  To be honest, I’d expected better.

  Better looking. Better dressed. Better manners.

  When he didn’t reply, I walked toward the door, planning to head back downstairs and put the kettle on.

  “Cease your progress, girl.”

  I didn’t. If that half-pint demon thought he was giving me orders in my own damn house, he had another think coming.

  No, I kept walking, dragging my eyes over his hideous form as I made for the stairs.

  “I said halt.”

  Alva swished her tail in annoyance, and I felt my own anger spike at the audacity of this asshole. “Look. I know you’re some all-powerful demon king or whatever they call you these days, but I’m a bit busy, and I could do with a nice cup of tea. I could ask why you’re here, who you think you are barging into my house uninvited, or even trigger one of the protective spells I have in place to ensnare you and return you to whatever hole you sprang up from, but my mother didn’t raise me without manners. So why don’t you join me for tea and we’ll discuss this like rational adults, yes?”

  Puffing his chest out, he grunted, but didn’t reply.

  I kept moving toward him. “You’re really old,” I observed, pausing at his side and looking down. “I’ve spent some time on the edge of the Veil and haven’t seen anything like you. I mean…” I reached out and prodded the flap of skin that hung down from his neck. Like a turkey’s wattle, it wobbled a bit, causing him to scowl. “Like, look at that. Most creatures would handle that. It’s not even like fat, is it? It’s a scrotum. You’re so old you have a neck scrotum.”

  I studied his decrepit horns for a moment, and considered giving them a tap, but I decided against it. Spinning on my heel, my skirt rustled as I made my way to the top of the stairs.

  He wasn’t frightening in the least. He probably expected his name to hold some weight, if not his horrific appearance, but that wouldn’t wash with me. I’d seen worse.

  “Join me for tea or get out. Choice is yours.”

  The staircase was narrow and steep, but I took the stairs two at a time just to get to the kitchen quicker. I was sure he wouldn’t harm me, but to be at a disadvantage with one as powerful as he freely wandering my home wouldn’t do at all.

  Making it safely downstairs, I set to work filling the kettle, lighting the stove, and setting up cups and saucers at the kitchen table. It was a bit of a mess with various herbs still on the cutting board, the knife I used for mincing them just dirty at its side, but I didn’t make an effort to move them. Unannounced guests would have to take the place as they found it.

  He followed slowly, appearing at the foot of the stairs as a changed man.

  No horns. No wattle. His transformation was so convincing, the man before me could have been entirely human. He had salt and pepper hair, wore a black pinstripe
suit, and held a cane in his right hand.

  He studied me without saying a word for several seconds.

  I continued brewing tea.

  “You lack respect,” he stated, scrutinizing what he could see of the house.

  “No,” I corrected, keeping my tone light, “I treat people the way they treat me. If that happens to be rudely, with a complete lack of respect, or disregard for basic social graces, then it’s coming right back at ya. Sugar?”

  “One. No milk,” he answered with an air of superiority I didn’t much care for.

  I glanced up to see he was smirking.

  I made the tea and proceeded to carry both mugs over to the sofa before placing them on the coffee table. “Tea, one sugar,” I announced, sitting and crossing my right leg over my left. “I think this is the part where you explain yourself.”

  His progress was slow, each step measured to allow him time to peruse my living room. First the bookcases, then the fireplace… he was clearly looking for something.

  “It’s here,” I offered, raising my mother’s grimoire.

  His demeanor changed immediately. His pace quickened, and when he reached the sofa, he perched on the edge of the seat, his body turned toward me, and fixed his gaze on the leather.

  “You found it.”

  I didn’t know why I offered it to him, the relief in his tone probably spurred the gesture, and I watched him closely as he closed his eyes and raised it to his forehead. “I found everything, although if I’d known just saying your name aloud would bring you, I could have saved myself years of hard work.”

  His smile was almost one of fondness and he shook his head slowly. “No, Sorrel. Your mother was incredibly intelligent. Even after everything your family put her through, she kept working toward her goal. She was an inspiration. She would go the miles nobody else would. Not even me.”

  He’d dropped the formality from his tone and his body language as he spoke. It was almost as though she still had an effect on him even after all this time.

  “How did you meet?” I asked. It was one thing I’d never learned. Mum couldn’t remember. He wasn’t around to question.

  Placing the grimoire between us on the couch, he took his tea and settled back. For a moment, I thought he was going to refuse to answer, but his facial features relaxed, and he began to talk. “She opposed the sanctions the fae placed on the preternatural communities long before we met. I’d heard her name once or twice, it’s my business to know who passes into our realm, when, how, and why. If that information isn’t forthcoming, then it’s my job to find out.

  “I sent guards, she sent them away. I believe her words were, ‘I don’t speak to monkeys, send your organ grinder.’ You can imagine how my guards reacted to that. All except one.”

  He paused, waiting for me to connect the dots.

  “You expect me to believe she had a relationship with Devan?” I scoffed, leaning forward to take my mug. “I don’t think he’s reached that level of depravity just yet.”

  “Devan is young,” he reasoned. “He was younger still back then. One of his first assignments for me was to speak with the visiting witch, and when she gave him the same speech she gave the previous guards, he brought her directly to my hall.”

  I narrowed my eyes over my mug as I drank. I was being led to ask the question, and I wasn’t really in the mood for games, so I came right out with it. “And when I first arrived in the Veil, did you send him to find me?”

  “No. In fact, he kept your visits and subsequent friendship from me for two years,” he revealed with a wry smile. “Sleeping with the boss’s daughter comes with specific risks, you understand.”

  I raised a brow. “So why has he continued to meet with me for…well, we don’t need to go into those sorts of specifics.”

  “Because if your mother taught me one thing, it was to never get in the way of a witch and what she wants. Sorrel, I know—”

  I leaned forward and slammed my mug on the coffee table. “Nope. You don’t know a damned thing about me. Because you were never here.”

  “And why was that?” he questioned simply, before taking another casual sip of his tea.

  “Are you screwing with me?” I snapped, as I rose to my feet. “You think I don’t know that you and your brothers signed the agreement that handed control to the fae? You copped out. This is all on you. All of it.”

  “There are three names missing from that document. You’ll have to take my word for it since you won’t ever have the opportunity to see it for yourself, but mine is one of them.”

  “You didn’t sign?”

  He gave a single shake of his head. “I did not. However, majority rules in all civilized courts, and those of us opposed were forced to concede.” He returned the mug to the table and picked up the grimoire, running the tips of his fingers over the aged leather in a loving caress. “The world and her realms have changed dramatically over the last three centuries, and our people have always supported the notion that blood is sacred.”

  I turned away, walking over to the fireplace. “If that was true, they wouldn’t have signed.”

  “They signed in the belief they were keeping people safe. War between the two factions would have cost lives across all races. Shifter. Human. Witch. Vampire. Millions would have perished.”

  “So you stepped aside and gave them free rein in the name of peace? How fucking noble.”

  “They thought so, but as I have said, I did not agree,” he reasoned. “And things have changed exponentially.”

  “So three hundred years and a bastard daughter can change the tide? Was that your play? Plant a half-breed out there for them to hunt down and force them to see the error of their ways?”

  He moved without me seeing. One second he was sitting, and the next he stood before me with his cane in his right hand and fury etched on his previously handsome face.

  “Had they listened, you would have been raised in an entirely different world. There would have been completely different outcomes. I would have taken my rightful place as life partner and father. Anis would never have suffered so horribly. You would have been spared the horrors you’ve been forced to endure. As it stands, their niece is being hunted, their blood sniffed out by fae hounds. Not only is that their doing, which is insult enough, but it is at odds with everything they honor.”

  I barely resisted the urge to stomp my foot, and Alva was in total agreement. “So while you didn’t expect this particular card to land in your deck, I’m your proverbial bargaining chip? Lovely.”

  While the fury lessened, he didn’t back away. “You’re being facetious.”

  “You’re pissing me off,” I retorted, pulling back my shoulders and closing the distance between us. He might be a prince of hell, but I wasn’t afraid of him. “I think you should leave.”

  “I disagree,” he countered, looking down at me. “You’ve taken every challenge head-on, now is not the time to turn tail and run. You may well be the strongest woman I’ve had the privilege to meet, but you are not alone in this.”

  “What would you know about it?” I snarled, my temper rising fast. “I don’t remember seeing you on solstice. You claim to have loved her, but you didn’t even attend her funeral. I’ve been alone all my adult life and for large portions of my childhood. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “And now you’re being disingenuous. Sorrel, you have forged alliances with the leaders of the most downtrodden races within the magical society. The time for despondency has long since passed.”

  I moved to turn away. Unsurprisingly, he took a step back, but my exit was obstructed by the handle of his cane, which barred my exit by pressing against my chest.

  I glanced down before reaching for it, my intention being to push it away, but in a moment of overwhelming rage at his audacity, I lost control.

  “Excellent,” he exclaimed, lowering the cane and grinning as Alva burst free with no warning. “Funny, you have my mother’s eyes.”

  T
hrough my eyes Alva looked him up and down, tail swishing in disgust. “You have none of the qualities I expected of a prince,” Alva replied with no small amount of venom in my, her, tone. I wanted her to stop talking, but the bitch refused to be put back in her box. “After repeatedly turning your back on your daughter, you burst into her home unannounced at a critical point in her life, taking away the control she had over your first meeting, and proceed to patronize her when what she needs is reassurance and support. Support being the weight of your people behind her if you expect her to undertake the role you believe is hers.”

  “Our people, Alva,” he corrected. “Which, coincidentally, was also my mother’s name. She was strong, determined, and obnoxious—all attributes that have kept you a step ahead while fulfilling your overwhelming desire for vengeance over your mother’s horrific demise. It’s time to reconcile yourself. The time has come to accept who you are and use all the tools at your disposal to bring this war to its conclusion.”

  To Alva’s credit, she stood and listened to his speech without moving an inch. I’d expected her to grow impatient and go on the defensive simply because she was fully in control of my body. Then she tilted her head and asked, “And why would I do that? What benefit could there possibly be to me engaging in a war with the fae?”

  He raised an all too knowing brow. “In the event you freed the magical communities, including the dragonkin, there would be no more hiding. You would be free to live your life as Alva and Sorrel. Imagine, no more concealment. No more starvation.”

  “You believe I’m starved? You believe I’m a captive?”

  “I do not believe you have reached your full potential. It’s time to be yourself. Sorrel and Alva. Demon and witch. Mistakes cannot be unmade, but we can learn from them and come together. We can set the world to rights.”