by Ryvr Jones
“You’re a curious person, and I don’t mind your questions.”
Tarani snorted. “We don’t even know if I’m a person.”
“Well, you’re a curious something.” He tweaked her nose affectionately.
She laughed, and the twinkling sound went all the way to his soul, bringing light to the darkest corners of his being. It was fleeting, but he wanted to make her laugh all the time, to steal more of her light for himself. Her laughter sounded like redemption and forgiveness. Like things he shouldn’t want because he couldn’t have.
“The sun has set, but the sky is still clouded,” she said.
Rhys closed his eyes for a moment. Stop thinking about things that can’t be. He cleared his throat, but whatever he was about to say got lost as his body went on full alert. His spine tingled, warning him.
Something bad was approaching.
Fuck. He dragged Tarani to the gallery. “Someone’s coming, and it’s not Caeron. Stay here and stay quiet.” He went back to the door and scanned the surroundings, the lack of light no challenge to his night vision. Shadows were coming from the field at his right. They seemed human, but they felt…wrong.
A tendril of panic unfurled in his chest. He’d never felt anything like these things. They weren’t alive. But they weren’t souls either, so they weren’t dead. What the everliving fuck?
Rhys didn’t presume to know everything about the supernatural world, but he’d lived long enough to have seen or heard about most of what existed under the stars. The fact he wasn’t able to even guess what these fuckers were didn’t bode well. And they were approaching fast.
“Tarani,” he whispered through gritted teeth, his gaze trained on the approaching shadows, “find some place to hide. If I can’t protect you, wait until it’s safe and then run. Go to Tarmanagh and find Caeron. He’ll help you.” Sensing she was about to protest, he growled. “Please. I can’t fight if I’m worrying about you.”
There was no time for her to answer. The shadows were a hundred feet from the door. He needed to act.
Rhys let his true form out, darkness seeping from his skin, engulfing his whole body before slamming back into him. He hoped Tarani wasn’t watching him, because he knew what she would see.
A skinless skeleton dressed in Rhys’s clothes, with a sword strapped to its back.
Blocking his stupid worries about what she’d think, he took the sword out of its sheath just in time to slash the first fucker that arrived at the door. It looked like a rotten corpse, but it was definitely not dead—there was a soul attached to it. The thing stumbled back but regained its footing and jumped him, trying to stab him with a dagger.
Had he been in possession of his lungs, Rhys would have snorted. You can’t stab a dullahan, dumbass. He didn’t have flesh to be cut, and his bones were much stronger than those of a human. He punched the sucker with enough force to throw him back, then cut his head off in a smooth movement. The head fell to the ground with a satisfying thud, followed by the body. As he’d figured, it was enough to release the soul from it.
When Rhys was in his dullahan form, his eyes changed into red light orbs, and allowed him to see souls almost as if they were solid. This soul was as rotten as the body it had belonged to. Fucking Gods.
“Watch out!” Tarani’s voice cut through the air, and he whipped around. She wasn’t hiding. She was standing by the stairs, and a symbol glowed on her forehead, branded to her soul.
Tarani was a demon.
Chapter Seven
Rhys wanted to scream in denial, roar his pain to hell and beyond, but he had no voice.
The moment of weakness cost him. More rotten things swarmed him, and one of them cut his head off with a sword. It fell to the floor and rolled over the stones like a grotesque ball.
Fuck. He didn’t need his skull attached to him when he was in dullahan form, but without it he couldn’t go back to his human form.
He was, once again, royally fucked.
Tarani. Take it. Don’t let them have it. He couldn’t speak, so he hoped to fuck she could guess what he needed. Relief washed over him when she ran to the gruesome part of him lying on the floor and took it in her hands, without showing any sign of repulsion or fear.
She retreated and crouched under the gallery, her back against the wall. Ignoring what his vision told him and focusing on his other senses, Rhys started to cut heads off, trying to reach her.
Dozens of the fucking corpses attacked him, slowing him down. It was just a matter of time before the fuckers noticed Tarani.
“Thought you didn’t need help.” Caeron’s voice sounded amused, echoing through their mental bond. As most supernaturals, dullahans could project their thoughts to others of their kind, as well to the souls they collected.
Rhys was so focused on the fight he hadn’t sensed the other dullahan approaching. “I don’t need help with the job, jackass.” Despite his retort, Rhys was glad to have help.
Caeron assumed his dullahan form and joined the fray, ripping heads off as if it was an Olympic sport. “What the fuck are these things?” he asked without missing a slash.
“I don’t know.” Rhys gave a mental shrug. “Let’s kill them first and figure it out later.”
“No!” Tarani screamed. Still crouching, she clutched his head on her lap, bent over it like a protective shell. Her face was shadowed by her hair, but her eyes glinted with a mix of fear and anger. One of the corpses stood by her side, a knife poised to hurt her. Rhys’s bones turned to ice.
“Go,” Caeron said, fighting with all his might to open a path for Rhys.
Rhys didn’t make it. The corpse slashed Tarani’s arm and touched Rhys’s skull. He would’ve vomited if he had a stomach. That thing was wrong, so wrong. And it was going to take his head. And kill Tarani.
No! Let him have it, run away!
The thing slashed her arm again. Tarani stuck her other arm out and grabbed the attacker’s shoulder. She muttered something and ripped the rotten soul right off its body, which fell limp to the ground.
“You’re keeping interesting company lately, Rhys.”
Rhys fought the impulse to tell Caeron to go fuck himself. “Let’s finish these fuckers so I can get my head back.”
They made a short order of it, working in sync as if they’d been battling together their entire lives. Rhys remembered the brothers in arms he’d lost long ago, and the memory made him even more vicious. Moments later, the floor was littered with rotten, headless bodies, while their rotten souls wandered to the fields.
Sensing his hesitation, Caeron used the bond again. “We’ll collect them later. Go get your head.”
Tarani was kneeling in the same spot, cradling his head in her arms as if it were something precious, her gaze fixed on his skull.
Rhys crouched in front of her and put his skeletal hand on her shoulder.
“This is you,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question, but he squeezed her shoulder in response. She caressed his white forehead and the corners of his empty sockets with tenderness, tears filling her eyes. “They almost got you, because of me. I’m so sorry, Rhys.”
His heart cracked open. Now she knew all the truth about him. She’d seen his true, headless form, was holding his freaking skull in her hands, but instead of looking at him with fear or horror, her eyes were full of regret and something he didn’t dare to name. He stretched his hand, silently asking her to return his head.
“Right, you need this.” She smiled through the tears. “I can’t believe you literally lost your head because of me.” She returned the skull to him, but her head remained down. “I hope you can forgive me.”
He put his head back where it should be, the connections snapping into place. He turned his skull side to side, the vertebrae moving smoothly as if they’d never been severed.
Tarani stood, watching him with wide eyes. They were still moist and her face was flushed, but a huge grin split her lips. “That. Is. Awesome.”
“Oh, I like her alrea
dy,” Caeron said, reminding him of his presence.
Before Rhys could tell him to get lost, Tarani interrupted. “May I?” Her hand hovered over his shoulder, an expectant look on her face.
Wary, he nodded. She palmed his shoulder joint through his coat and went down his arm, feeling every bone until she reached his hand. She tugged it closer to her face. “This is you,” she whispered as she entwined their fingers, seemingly fascinated by the contrast between flesh and bone.
It was different than when she touched his skin. He didn’t even know how the fuck his dullahan physiology worked, but he could feel her touch. Nobody had ever touched him in this form before, except during battle. His at-the-moment-inexistent throat contracted with a lump of emotion at her acceptance.
She gazed at his bony face. “You can’t talk when you’re like this, can you?” He shook his head. “As much as I find this form interesting, I miss your voice. Can you change back?”
Taking a step back, he let the darkness envelop him once again. Caeron changed back, too, and Tarani examined him with curiosity. “You’re like Rhys, then.”
Caeron snorted. “Nobody is quite like Rhys.”
Rhys glared at him, then turned to Tarani. “Yes, he’s a dullahan, a soul collector, like me.”
“What does that mean?” She tilted her head sideways.
“When a person dies in the area assigned to one of us, we sense it. We collect the soul and take it to our boss.” Rhys tried to suppress his “rotten lemon” expression, and failed. “She takes them to the place where they can cross to the Otherside—the afterlife.”
“You make it sound fancy and glamorous as shit, but we’re nothing more than Death’s servants,” Caeron said, snorting again.
“Death’s servants?” Tarani’s eyes went wide.
Caeron’s eyes narrowed to slits. “After your soul-ripping stunt, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be surprised by that.” He turned to Rhys. “What’s going on?”
Motherfucking shit. “Back off, Caeron.” Rhys stepped between them. “I’m grateful for your help, but this doesn’t concern you.”
“You don’t say.” Caeron crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “Those things were here—in my freaking backyard—because of you. If I hadn’t come back to help your sorry ass, they’d be playing soccer with your skull right now. Your… friend sent one of them to the other side with a mere touch. You have some mysterious job to do here, and we don’t know if more of those fuckers are coming to avenge their buddies or some shit. Oh, and I still have to go herd those freaking rotten souls to delivery. Maybe I’m a little dense, so please explain to me—with small words, mind you—how the fuck this doesn’t concern me.”
Rhys rubbed his eyes. He had no idea what he was facing. He didn’t want to get closer to Caeron again, but maybe an ally would be useful. He sighed and stepped to the side, allowing Caeron to see Tarani. “Okay. Let’s slow down. We need to know what the fuck those things are.”
“I haven’t even heard of such a thing as a rotten soul.” He eyed Rhys and shrugged. “Not literally rotten, anyway.”
“Yeah, very funny,” Rhys drawled.
“I think they’re undead,” Tarani interjected. “Maybe they cheated death somehow.” She pursed her lips. “They should have died, but didn’t.”
Rhys nodded. “That would explain the rotten bodies and souls. But how the fuck do you cheat Death?” Hell knew he’d tried. Caeron probably had too.
Caeron stared suspiciously at Tarani. “You sure seem to know a lot about Death,” he muttered.
Tarani tilted her head, wrinkling her nose, and Rhys waited for the familiar No, I don’t think I do. It didn’t come. Instead, her brows knitted together and she stayed silent.
Fear gripped Rhys’s throat. Tarani is a demon.
He hadn’t told her yet, because he was a fucking coward and didn’t want to face the implications of it. Demons were a rare breed these days, since the knowledge and power required to create them had been lost long ago. Only those created by an especially powerful being could survive their creator’s death without starting to fade. Once deprived of their master’s life force, they began to die, slowly wasting away, until they dissolved into nothing.
Rhys didn’t want to think about what it could mean for Tarani. Or for him. Demons were rarely created without a selfish and destructive purpose. It hadn’t always been so, but since long before Rhys had even been born, it was the general rule.
Carden had been the most powerful demon of them all, but he hadn’t been the only one to cross paths with Rhys. And all the demons Rhys knew were pure darkness and evil.
Tarani’s light was undeniable, though.
And she had ripped a soul from a body.
How was it possible? Only a few beings, besides the dullahans, could do it. Nothing about her made sense. She was a demon. Full of light. Who could rip souls. And had a soul of her own.
Her soul. Rhys’s eyes widened, and he told Caeron through their mental connection, “She has a soul. A real soul.”
“What?” Caeron said out loud, his eyes rounded as well.
“Shut up, dickhead.” Rhys glared at him. “She doesn’t know she’s a demon.”
“Gentlemen,” Tarani said. “I can see you’re having a conversation, which I can’t hear. I don’t think that’s polite.” She stuck her hand to Caeron. “I’m Tamerah.”
The fucker took her hand and kissed it, giving her a bright smile that even Rhys had to admit was charming. Fuck the ally thing, he was going to kill Caeron, dullahan or not. Then Tarani smiled back, gracing Caeron with the light that so far had been for Rhys and Rhys only, and he decided he was going to kill Caeron slowly. After breaking each and every one of his bones.
He knew Caeron could sense his animosity, but Caeron didn’t seem to give a fuck. He was still holding her hand. “Beautiful name. It suits you.”
Rhys’s blood boiled, but he couldn’t say anything without staking a claim. And he couldn’t stake a claim. Besides, he was being irrational and he knew it.
Tarani’s eyes twinkled. Fuck. “Thank you.” Finally, finally she took her hand back and turned to Rhys. “What were you talking about?”
He took a fortifying breath. “We know what you are.”
“And you’re not pleased.” She hugged herself.
“It’s not…It’s not like that.” Rhys cursed. How could he say it without scaring her, without implying she was made of darkness and evil?
Before he could think of a nice way to say it, Caeron ruined it. “You’re a demon, Tamerah.”
She took a step back, fear making her face pale. “A demon?”
“Shut up, Caeron!” Rhys exploded and stepped closer to her. She took another step back, recoiling from him, and her rejection slashed his soul. “Tarani, listen to me. Don’t be scared. Yes, you’re a demon, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“It’s not?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“No. I swear.” It was technically true. “Besides, there’s something unique about you. You have a soul.”
Her nose scrunched up. “Demons don’t have souls?”
“Not real ones,” Caeron said. “They have a spiritual shell that mimics a soul, but it’s artificially created. When they die, it dissolves into nothing. They don’t cross over to the other side. Rhys says you have a real soul.”
“I don’t say anything.” Rhys crossed his arms to keep them from going to Caeron’s neck. “She does have soul.” He turned back to her. “I saw it when I found you, remember?”
“Yes.” A small smile curled her lips, and Rhys was so glad to see it he would’ve kissed her, even with Caeron as an audience. “But I don’t understand. How can I be a demon, then?”
“We don’t know.” Rhys pushed a hand through his hair. “But the mark on your forehead is clear. There’s no doubt about it—you’re a demon.”
“The mark?” She touched the spot, as if trying to feel it.
“When they’
re created, demons are branded with a symbol of what they are. It can only be seen by a few beings. Dullahans can see it, but only when we’re in our true form.”
“I wasn’t born?” Tarani tilted her head. “I was…created? How?”
Rhys stepped closer to her, and thank the Gods, she didn’t retreat this time. “We don’t know.” An overwhelming desire to touch her overcame him, to sooth her as much as himself. He slid his fingers through her locks, hooking the strands behind her ear, and let his fingertips linger at the base of her neck. “I know a bit about how ‘normal’ demons are created, but since you have a soul, I don’t know if that’s how you came to be.” But I’m glad you did.
“That’s all interesting.” Caeron cleared his throat, and looked pointedly at where Rhys was touching Tarani. “Very interesting. But we should get the fuck out of here. I feel like I’m part of the cast of The Walking Dead or some shit like that, and I don’t like it one bit.”
“Not yet.” Rhys eyed the sky. A cold breeze was moving the clouds along, opening patches between them. “It seems we’ll have moonlight soon. I don’t want to leave without trying to find what I came here for.”
“And you need moonlight because…” Caeron trailed off.
Rhys weighed his options. He could ask Caeron to leave, but then he wouldn’t have backup if they were attacked again. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t sure those things wouldn’t have got his head and Tarani if it weren’t for Caeron’s help. “If you want to stay and help, you have to swear you won’t talk about this with anyone. Not even Seersha.”
“Not even Seersha?” Caeron whistled, putting his hands in his pockets. “Okay, I swear I won’t tell a soul. Attached to a body or not.” He smirked and gave Rhys a wink. “I swear over my head. Good enough for you?”
Rhys snorted. “Your head is completely useless.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “But I don’t have much choice. So yes, good enough, bonehead.”