by Anne Bishop
"Don't listen to him," Dorothea said suddenly. "It's a trick, a trap. He's lying."
"It seems to be his day for it," Surreal muttered bitterly.
Giving Surreal a brief, dismissive glance, Daemon shifted his attention to Dorothea. "Hello, darling. You look like a hag. It suits you."
Dorothea hissed.
"I brought you a present," Daemon said, glancing at Surreal again.
Dorothea looked at Surreal's pointed ears and sneered. "I've heard of her. She's nothing but a whore."
"Yes," Daemon agreed mildly, "she's a first-class slut who will spread her legs for anything that will pay her. She's also your granddaughter. Kartane's child. The only one he'll ever sire. The only continuation of your bloodline."
"No slut is my granddaughter," Dorothea snarled.
Daemon raised one eyebrow. "Really, darling, I thought that would be the convincing argument. The only difference between you is she's under a male most of the time while you're on top of him. But your legs are spread just as wide." He paused. "Well, there is one other difference. Since she was getting paid for it, she had to acquire some skill in bed."
Dorothea shook with rage. "Guards! Seize him!"
Twenty men surged forward, then dropped in their tracks.
Daemon just smiled. "Perhaps I should kill the rest of them now to eliminate further annoyances."
Hekatah carefully lowered the knife. "Why are you here, Sadi?"
"Your little schemes are interfering with my plans, and that annoys me."
"Terreille is going to war with Kaeleer. That's hardly a 'little scheme.' "
"Well, that all depends on whether you have the power to win, doesn't it?" Daemon crooned. "However, I'm not interested in ruling a Realm that's been devastated by a war, so I decided it was time we had a little talk."
Dorothea jumped forward. "Don't listen to him!"
"How can you rule a Realm?" Hekatah asked, ignoring Dorothea.
Daemon's smile became colder, crueler. "I control the witch who has the strength to kill every living thing in the Realm of Terreille."
"NO!" Saetan shouted. "You do not control the Queen." When Daemon's eyes fixed on him, he started to shiver again.
"Don't I?" Daemon purred. "Haven't you wondered why she didn't respond to the 'gift,' High Lord? Oh, she was greatly distressed. Hasn't done anything but weep since your finger arrived. But she isn't here—and she isn't going to be because she values having my cock inside her more than she values you. Any of you." For the first time, Daemon glanced at Lucivar.
Saetan shook his head. "No. You can't do this, Daemon."
"Don't tell me what I can do. You had your chance, old man, and you didn't have the balls to take it. Now it's my turn, and I intend to rule."
"That's just another lie," Dorothea snapped. "You've never been interested in ruling."
Daemon turned searing, cold anger on her. "What would you know about what I wanted, bitch? You never offered me a chance to rule anything. You just wanted to use my strength without ever offering anything in return."
"I did offer you something!"
"What? You? You had your use of me, Dorothea. How could you imagine enduring more of that would be any kind of reward?"
"You bastard! You—" She took a step toward him, her hand raised like a claw.
A blow from a phantom hand knocked her off her feet. She fell on top of Surreal, who swore viciously and pushed her off.
Tearing his eyes away from Daemon, Saetan looked at Hekatah—and realized she was shaking, but it wasn't from anger.
"What is it you want, Sadi?" Hekatah said, unable to keep her voice steady.
A long, chilling moment passed before Daemon turned his attention back to her. "I came to negotiate on my Queen's behalf."
"I told you," Dorothea muttered—but she didn't try to get up.
"And what will you tell your Queen?" Hekatah asked.
"That I arrived too late to save any of them. I'm sure I can prod her into a suitably violent reaction."
"She'll destroy more than us if she unleashes that kind of power."
Daemon's smile was a satisfied one. "Exactly. She'll destroy everything. And once all of you are gone... Well, there will have to be a few more battles in Kaeleer to eliminate the more troublesome males in the court. But after that, I think things will settle down quite nicely." He turned and started to walk away.
He'll never get her to destroy everyone in Terreille, Saetan thought, closing his eyes against the sick feelings churning in his stomach. He'll never twist her that much. Not Jaenelle.
"Wait," Hekatah said.
Saetan opened his eyes.
Daemon was almost at the edge of the light. Turning, he raised one eyebrow in inquiry.
"Was that the only reason you came here?" Hekatah asked.
Daemon glanced at Lucivar again and smiled. "No. I thought I would settle a few debts while I was here."
Hekatah returned the smile. "Then, perhaps. Prince, we do have something to talk about. But not right now. Why don't you indulge yourself while I—while Dorothea and I think about how we might settle this amicably between us."
"I'm sure I can find something amusing to do to pass the time," Daemon said. He walked out of the light, disappeared into the darkness.
Hekatah looked at Saetan. It wasn't possible for him to keep his feelings hidden right now, to keep his face blank.
Dorothea got to her feet and pointed at Surreal. "Secure that bitch," she snapped at a couple of guards. Then she turned to Hekatah. "You can't really believe Sadi."
"The High Lord does," Hekatah said quietly. "And that's very interesting." She hissed when Dorothea started to protest. "We'll discuss this in private."
She walked to her cabin with Dorothea reluctantly following.
After chaining Surreal to the post on Saetan's left, the guards gathered up the dead men, and, with uneasy glances at the surrounding darkness, finally returned to their duties.
"Your son's a cold-blooded bastard," Surreal said quietly.
Saetan thought about the look in Daemon's eyes. He thought about the man he should have known well—and didn't know at all. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the post, and said, "I only have one son now—and he's Eyrien."
"Hello, Prick."
Lucivar turned his head, watched Daemon glide out of the darkness and circle around to stand directly in front of him.
He had watched that initial game closely, waiting for some sign from Daemon that it was time to attack. The spelled chains couldn't have held him by themselves, and, unlike Saetan, the pain from the Ring of Obedience didn't debilitate him for long—at least, it didn't drain him the way it seemed to drain the High Lord. No, what had made him hold back and wait was the threat to Marian and Daemonar. There was always a guard inside the far hut that was being used as one of the prisons, and that guard had orders to kill his wife and son if he broke free. So he had waited, especially after Saetan had surrendered to those two bitches, because he had realized that Saetan had known there wouldn't be an exchange, had walked in expecting to become a prisoner, and had had a reason for doing it.
So when he saw Daemon, he figured the game was about to begin. But now, seeing that bored, sleepy, terrifying look... He'd danced with the Sadist enough times in the past to know that look meant they were all in serious trouble.
"Hello, Bastard," he said carefully.
Daemon stepped closer. His fingertips drifted up Lucivar's arm, over the shoulder, traced the collarbone.
"What's the game?" Lucivar asked quietly. Then he shivered as Daemon's fingers drifted up his neck, along his jaw.
"It's simple enough," Daemon crooned, brushing a finger over Lucivar's lower lip. "You're going to die, and I'm going to rule." He met Lucivar's eyes and smiled. "Do you know what it's like in the Twisted Kingdom, Prick? Do you have any idea? I spent eight years in that torment because of you."
"You forgave the debt," Lucivar snarled softly. "I gave you the chance to sett
le it, and you chose to forgive it."
Daemon's hand gently settled on Lucivar's neck. He leaned forward until his lips almost brushed Lucivar's. "Did you really think I would forgive you?"
From the far hut, they both heard a child's outraged howl.
Daemon stepped back. Smiled. Slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "You're going to pay for those years, Prick," Daemon said softly. "You're going to pay dearly."
Lucivar's heart pounded in his throat as Daemon glided toward the hut that held Marian and Daemonar. "Bastard? Bastard, wait. I'm the one who owes the debt. You can't... Daemon? Daemon!"
Daemon walked into the hut. A moment later, the guard hurried out.
"DAEMON!"
A few minutes after that, Lucivar heard his son scream.
Dorothea's hands closed into fists. "I'm telling you, it's a trick of some kind. I know Sadi."
"Do you?" Hekatah snapped.
I think it's more accurate to say I'm the man my father might have been if he'd had the balls for it.
Yes, she had been able to sense the ruthlessness, the ambition, the cruel sexuality in Daemon Sadi. It frightened her a little. It excited her even more.
"He's never been interested in using his strength to acquire power. He fought against every attempt I made to bring him around."
"That's because you handled him wrong," Hekatah snarled. "If you had doted on Sadi the way you had doted on that excuse for a son—"
"You used to think it was amusing that I was playing bedroom games with the High Lord's boy. You said it would make a man out of him."
And it had. It had honed Sadi's cruelty, his taste for perverse pleasure. She had sensed that, too. Just as she had sensed that it wouldn't be easy to get around his deep hatred for Dorothea. Well, she wouldn't let that interfere with her own ambitions. Besides, Dorothea was becoming difficult, unreliable. She would have had to eliminate the bitch after the war was won anyway.
"I tell you, he's up to something," Dorothea insisted. "And you're just letting him wander around the camp to do who knows what."
"What am I supposed to do?" Hekatah snapped. "Without any leverage, we can't go up against the Black and expect to win."
"We've got leverage," Dorothea said through clenched teeth.
Hekatah let out a nasty laugh. "What leverage? If he really has destroyed Andulvar, Prothvar, and Mephis, he's not going to squirm because Saetan's guts are spilling out on the ground."
"You picked the wrong man, the wrong threat," Dorothea said irritably, waving a hand. "He may not give a damn about Saetan, but he's always buckled when Lucivar was threatened. Lucivar's been the one chain we could count on to hold Sadi. If you threatened—" She paused, sniffed, looked toward the door, and said uneasily, "What's that smell?"
"What's that smell?" Surreal muttered. It was well past midnight. Were the guards roasting some meat for tomorrow's meals? Possibly, but she couldn't imagine anyone wanting to eat anything that smelled that vile. "Do you smell it?" She turned her head to look at Saetan—and didn't like what she saw. Not one little bit. Since Daemon walked out of the camp the first time, the High Lord had just been staring straight ahead. Just staring. "Uncle Saetan?"
He turned his head, slowly. His eyes focused on her—too slowly.
Checking to make sure there weren't any guards around at the moment, she leaned toward him as much as she could. "Uncle Saetan, this isn't exactly the time to start taking mental side trips. We've got to think of a way to get out of here."
"I'm sorry you're here, Surreal," he said in a worn-out voice. "Truly, I am sorry."
Me, too."Lucivar's got the physical strength, and I can handle myself in a fight, but you've got the experience to come up with a plan that can use that strength to our best advantage."
He just looked at her. The smile that finally curved his lips was gently bitter. "Sweetheart... I've gotten very old in the past two days."
She could see that, and it scared her. Without him, she wasn't sure they could get out of there.
Hearing a door open, she immediately straightened up and looked away from him.
"Hell's fire," Dorothea said irritably, "what's that smell?" She stepped between the posts that held Saetan and Surreal.
Surreal clenched her teeth. She wore a Gray Jewel; Dorothea wore a Red. It would be easy enough to slip under Dorothea's inner barriers and weave a death spell—something nasty so that, when it triggered, the screams and confusion might give them a chance to get away.
She began a careful descent so that no one would notice it, but before she reached the depth of her Gray Jewel, another door opened.
The vile smell intensified, making her gag.
Daemon Sadi strolled out of the prison hut, his hands in his trouser pockets. He kept moving until he reached the center of the lighted area. He didn't look at them. His glittering eyes were focused intently on Lucivar, who stared back at him.
No one dared move.
Finally, Daemon looked toward the prison hut and said pleasantly, "Marian, darling, come out and show your foolish husband the price for my years in the Twisted Kingdom."
Two naked... things... floated out of the hut into the light. An hour ago, they had been a woman and a small boy. Now...
Surreal began panting in an effort to keep her stomach down. Mother Night, Mother Night, Mother Night.
Marian's fingers and feet were gone. So was the long, lovely hair. Daemonar's eyes were gone, as well as his hands and feet. Their wings were so crisped, the slight movement of floating made pieces break off. And their skin...
Smiling that cold, cruel smile, the Sadist released his hold on Marian and Daemonar. The little boy hit the ground with a thump and began screaming. Marian landed on the stumps of her feet and fell. When she landed, her skin split, and...
Not blood, Surreal realized as she stared with numb, sick fascination. Cooking juices oozed out from those splits in the skin.
The Sadist hadn't just burned them, he had cooked them—and they were still alive. Not even demon-dead, alive.
"Lucivar," Marian whispered hoarsely as she tried to crawl toward her husband. "Lucivar."
Lucivar screamed, but the scream of pain changed to an Eyrien war cry. Chains snapped as he exploded away from the post, charging right at Daemon. When he had covered half the distance, a hard psychic blow knocked him off his feet, sent him rolling back toward the post. He surged to his feet, rushed at Daemon again—and was struck down again. And again. And again.
When he couldn't get to his feet, he crawled toward Daemon, his teeth bared, his eyes filled with hate.
Sadi reached down, grabbed Daemonar's arm, and twisted it off the way another man would twist off a drumstick.
That got Lucivar to his feet. When he charged this time, he slammed into a Black shield and went to his knees.
Daemon just watched him and smiled.
He tried to break through the shield, tried to smash his way through it, claw his way through it, battered himself against it—and finally just braced himself against it, crying.
"Daemon," he pleaded. "Daemon... show a little mercy."
"You want mercy?" Daemon replied gently. With predatory speed, he stepped on Daemonar's head.
The skull smashed like an eggshell.
Daemon walked over to Marian, who was still whispering, still trying to crawl. Even over Lucivar's anguished howls, the rest of them could hear the bones snap when Daemon stepped on her neck.
Using Daemonar's arm as a pointer, Sadi gestured elegantly at the two bodies, all the while watching Lucivar and smiling. "They're both still strong enough to make the transition to demon-dead," he said pleasantly. "It's doubtful the brat is going to remember much of anything, but your wife's last thoughts of you... How kindly will she remember you, Prick, knowing you were the cause of this?"
"Finish it," Lucivar begged. "Let them go."
"Everything has a price, Prick. Pay the price, and I'll let them go."
"What do you want from me," Lucivar
said in a broken voice. "Just tell me what you want from me."
Daemon's smile turned colder, meaner. "Prove you can be a good boy. Crawl back to the post."
Lucivar crawled.
Two of the guards who had been standing beyond the lighted area, watching, approached Lucivar and helped him to his feet while two others replaced the broken chains.
They were very gentle with him when they secured him to the post.
Lucivar looked at Daemon with grief-dulled eyes. "Satisfied?"
"Yes," Daemon said too softly. "I'm satisfied."
Surreal felt a flick of dark power, then another. She reached out to Marian, almost terrified that her psychic touch would get an answer. But there was nothing, no one, left.
That was when she finally realized she was crying, had been crying.
Dropping Daemonar's arm, Sadi used a handkerchief to meticulously wipe the grease from his hand. Then, walking over to Surreal, he used the same handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face.
She almost puked on him.
"Don't waste your tears on them, little witch," Daemon said quietly. "You're next."
She watched him walk away, disappear once more into the darkness. I may be next, you cold-hearted bastard, but I won't go down without a fight. I can't win against you, but I swear by all that I am that I won't go down without a fight.
Saetan closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the still figures lying a few feet away from him.
I knew he was dangerous, but I didn't know he had this in him. I helped him, encouraged him. Oh, witch-child, what kind of monster did I allow into your bed, into your heart?
As soon as they returned to Hekatah's cabin, Dorothea fell into the nearest chair. She had done some cruel, vicious things in her life, but this...
She shuddered.
Hekatah braced her hands on the table. "Do you still think he'll buckle if we threaten Lucivar?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"No," Dorothea replied in a voice just as shaky. "I don't know what he'll do anymore." For centuries, the Blood in Terreille had called him the Sadist. Now she finally understood why.
2 / Kaeleer
Karla watched Tersa build strange creations with brown wooden building blocks. She was grateful for the older woman's presence, and knew Gabrielle felt the same way.