by Ryvr Jones
Rhys halted, easily taking the brunt of her jump. She encircled his body with her limbs, clinging to his heat. After a moment, he took her legs in his arms and started walking again.
“No,” she whispered in his ear, her lips caressing his surprisingly soft skin, and he groaned. “We’ll have to get rid of the darkness, Rhys, because you’re not getting rid of me.” She nuzzled the side of his neck. “No matter what, I’ll always be at your side.”
A shudder wracked his body, and he tightened his grip on her legs. He didn’t agree, but he didn’t say no, either. Tamerah counted it as small victory.
Rhys’s legs almost gave out when Tarani spoke in his ear. His body was on fire, and his scarred soul wanted to hide forever in her soft whispers.
No matter what, I’ll always be at your side. He knew she meant it, but he couldn’t forget the ugly marks on her skin.
I tried to kill her.
He needed to discover why he’d been going back to the Abyss. Why his soul was dying, and what to do about it. He didn’t give a damn about the world anymore, but he still had some honor left. He wouldn’t allow the destruction of humankind to come as a consequence of his catastrophic errors.
And he sure as fuck wouldn’t allow Tarani to die because of him.
I tried to kill her.
If Caeron hadn’t intervened…A growl of denial erupted from his chest, unbidden.
“What’s wrong?” Her lips caressed his ear again.
He shook his head, unable to voice his thoughts. Unwilling to confess how attached to her he’d become, in a ridiculously short time.
Did he care so much, so fast for her because his heart had known Tarani carried a part of Brianna, even if his brain hadn’t? The possibility unsettled him. He’d loved Brianna, and his heart had been broken beyond recognition.
What a cruel joke. After all these centuries, he was basically back at the point where he’d begun his descent into hell.
The trip to Caeron’s home was made in silence.
Caeron and Rhys parked in front of a two-story stone house, located next to a graveyard. The facade was dark gray, and the wooden windows had seen better days. The old building had a small front garden behind a low brick wall, which connected to the cemetery fence. Beyond the wrought-iron fencing, the bushes and trees shrouded in a light mist gave the grounds a melancholic beauty.
Tamerah stood on the sidewalk and took off her helmet. “Your home is bigger than I expected.”
“What, did you think all gravediggers lived in a box, like Rhys?” Caeron slid off his bike and walked to the small front gate.
His tone was teasing, and she couldn’t resist. “No. I thought all of you lived in mausoleums, like Rhys.”
Caeron laughed. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard for his place.” He opened the gate. “Come on in.”
Rhys touched her shoulder, urging her forward. He was still silent, and all teasing flew from her mind. They crossed the gate and reached the enormous, double front door. Caeron opened the left door and went inside.
Each of the door’s dark wood panels had a carved angel in it. They were about nine feet tall, their wings reaching above their heads. The angel on the right faced the front gate, his head slightly inclined, giving the impression that he was looking down to her. The other one seemed to be waiting for her to enter.
Beyond that door, she’d finally have some answers. About the parchment. About herself.
I am a demon.
What did it even mean? They had said she’d been created, not born. Created by whom? And more important, why? She was at once curious and terrified. Afraid of the unknown. Of discovering something horrible about herself and her origin.
Dread curled in her stomach, and suddenly she felt like she was about to face her own execution.
She hesitated, and Rhys nudged her forward again. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold. Rhys followed her and closed the door behind them.
In that moment Tamerah knew, just knew—there would be no turning back.
Chapter Nine
Closing the door behind him, Rhys sighed. He’d never thought he’d come back to Caeron’s home.
The wide entrance hall was the same, enclosed by doors on both sides, the polished wooden floor balancing the cold stone walls. A corridor opposed to the front door led further inside the house.
“Over here,” Caeron called, and Tarani followed his voice. Rhys walked behind her, feeling like a silent shadow.
At the end of the corridor there was a stair to the right, and a door to the left, where Caeron waited for them.
Rhys wasn’t surprised to see Caeron had converted the spacious room into a comfortable library, complete with sitting and dining areas. This had always been his favorite room.
To one side there were leather sofas, a coffee table and a big fireplace. Above the fireplace sat a huge flat screen TV, and a full blown media center occupied the shelves beside it.
Opposed to the sitting area, he had a wooden table with six chairs. The back wall was entirely covered in bookshelves, full of books from the floor to the ceiling. Caeron’s desk was placed near the shelves. Dark rugs covered most of the floor. Everything was clean, tidy and welcoming.
Definitely nothing like my mausoleum.
Caeron showed Tarani the bathroom. She cleaned up, and refused to let them tend to the wounds on her hands, since they were almost closed by now. Supernaturals healed faster than humans, and the cuts hadn’t been very deep.
Rhys went to clean himself after she came out. He stared at the mirror, the blood on his face. Tarani’s blood. She refused to go away. And he didn’t want her to go.
He wouldn’t allow himself to hurt her again, though. His lips compressed in a resolute line. He would find a way to stay out of the Abyss.
Determined, he washed her blood from his skin and went back to the library.
“I’ll have those explanations now,” Caeron said. “Start with the ‘I’ve been to the Abyss’ shit.” He rested his hips against the table and crossed his arms. “How’s that even possible?”
Rhys raked a hand through his hair. How could he explain, how to summarize so many lifetimes? Try starting at the beginning, dumbass. “A long time ago, I was human.”
“So say we all,” Caeron interrupted. Rhys scowled and he shrugged. “Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“You must have heard about Carden—the Child of Darkness—and the Thousand Deaths Battle.” Repulsion and hatred filled Rhys at the memory of the most powerful demon he’d ever come across.
Caeron nodded. “He tried to force Brianna Sheramath to surrender her power to him, but his creator was allied with her and destroyed the bastard during the Battle.”
Taking a fortifying breath, Rhys tried to keep his voice even. “I was there. Before he was destroyed, I killed him.”
“That doesn’t even make sense, man.” Caeron stared in disbelief.
Rhys let the rest of the truth out. “I used a Dark Dagger—which we got from Carden himself—to kill him. It didn’t exactly work. The dagger killed the demons’ body, but allowed him to take my own. It sent my soul to the Abyss.”
“Holy mother of fuck.” Caeron rubbed his eyes. “Weapons enchanted with black magic are extremely dangerous and unpredictable. How could you be so reckless, so stupid?”
Rhys wanted to tell Caeron to go to hell, but he couldn’t. Blinded by his need to protect Brianna and humankind, Rhys had thought the possibility of getting rid of Carden once and for all outweighed the risk of using the Black Dagger. “I didn’t know it wouldn’t really kill him.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Caeron didn’t back off. “I bet my nuts you did know how dangerous the dagger was, and you still used it.” His expression turned grim. “And now we’re facing the consequences of your stupidity. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” There was no denying the truth. “After Carden was destroyed, the Sheramath brought my soul back to my body.” Rhys closed hi
s eyes. “Not a day has gone by since then when I didn’t wish she’d left me there to rot like I deserved.”
“Your regrets don’t change anything,” Caeron spat, crossing his arms again.
No, they don’t. Rhys let out a heavy breath. “Soon after coming back, I discovered I couldn’t die.” The despair he’d felt still rode him hard. “The evil, the darkness of the Abyss is like a disease. It tainted my soul…a part of it lives inside me. The darkness never ends, therefore my life never ends.”
“Right.” Caeron snorted. “What about a beheading? Before becoming a dullahan, it’d be a little hard to keep living without your head attached to your shoulders.”
It was Rhys’s turn to cross his arms and shake his head. “You have no idea how much I want to—” He risked a glance to Tarani, who’d been completely still and silent since he started to tell his story. Her face was devoid of any expression, but her eyes shimmered with something. Fear? Don’t be afraid of me, Tarani. Please. “How much I wanted to die. I didn’t deserve to live, and I knew all the people I loved were going away, one by one. Where I couldn’t follow.” His voice cracked.
“Oh, poor Rhys,” Caeron mocked. “Save the pity party for someone who cares.”
The jab hurt, filling Rhys’s chest with longing. “I thought you cared.” The words got out without his permission, and he immediately regretted them.
Caeron pursed his lips. “I wasn’t the one who pushed you away.” Something that tasted like sadness drifted between them. Caeron sighed. “So you did try a beheading? What happened? Your head grew back?”
“I don’t know.” Rhys shrugged. “I paid someone to cut my head off. He did. I blacked out, but regained consciousness a few hours later, in the same spot, on a pool of blood. My head was back where it belongs, as if nothing ever happened.”
“I know the feeling.” Caeron’s smirked, his eyes sparkling.
Rhys pinned him with a hard stare. “Do you suffer from some medical condition that makes impossible for you to not make stupid jokes?”
“Yes. It’s called a sense of humor.” Caeron’s lips split in a cheeky grin. “It helps with the not-going-insane thing, so needed in our field of work. You should try it, my friend.”
There’s that word again. “After I realized I couldn’t physically die, I searched everywhere for a way to release my soul from the darkness. I figured if the connection were severed, I’d cross over to the Otherside.”
“And you found nothing.”
Rhys nodded. “Finally, I went to see Seersha. I knew it was a risk, but I didn’t have anything left to lose. Or so I thought.” A humorless laugh tore up his throat. “We made a deal. I’d become a dullahan, and at some point she’d tell me how I could die.”
“Let me guess.” Caeron grimaced.
“I was desperate. I didn’t ask for a specific time when she would fulfill her part of the bargain.” Rhys clenched his fists, filled with rage at his own stupidity. “During all this time, I’ve felt the darkness tainting my soul. Sometimes it would get…restless. Like a creature moving inside me. I was always able to keep it under control, until—” He glanced at Tarani. Her lack of response was starting to worry him.
“Until what, for fucks sake?” Caeron snapped.
“Until I remembered how he died.” Tarani finally spoke, watching Rhys with an unblinking stare. “I told Rhys what I’d seen, and he went back to the Abyss for the first time.”
“Yes,” Rhys croaked.
“The second time was in the ruins, after you read the parchment.” She tilted her head. “Did it say something about your death?”
“No.”
“But it did say something about me.”
Her certainty made his stomach twist. How does she know it? His chest constricted, a tendril of darkness snaking around his heart.
“The two episodes must be connected in some way,” Caeron cut in. “What did the parchment say?”
Oh fuck. Here we go. Rhys had been dreading this moment since they’d left the ruins. He took the parchment from the box and hesitated for a moment, before giving it to Caeron. “Remember—you can’t talk about this.”
“I’ve already promised I won’t. You know I never break my word, asshole.” As Caeron read, his expression went from curiosity to surprise, and finally to anger. He looked up, his eyes full of the contempt Rhys had expected. “You shirked your duty.”
Before Rhys could answer, Tarani took the parchment from Caeron and stepped away from them.
“I’m tired of being patient,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know there’s something here about me, but you’re not telling me anything.” Her face twisted in a feral smile. “I guess demons don’t deserve common courtesy, right?”
Rhys was speechless. Caeron tried to take the parchment back, but Tarani snarled. “Come closer and I’ll rip your soul off your bones. I don’t know how I did it, but I’m sure I’ll remember if the need arises.”
Caeron threw his hands up and laughed. “Okay, spitfire.” He leaned against the table again, seeming amused.
Tarani started to read, and Rhys didn’t know what to do. She needed to know the truth anyway. He just had hoped to…What, bonehead? There’s no way to soften the blow.
Her lips pressed in a thin line, her face even paler than usual. When she finished and met his gaze, she was shaking.
She crumpled the parchment in her hand, and Rhys realized she was shaking not with fear, but rage.
Tamerah was so furious, she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Now she knew what being a demon meant.
She was a shell, created to serve a purpose.
What she felt for Rhys wasn’t real. They were someone else’s feelings, entwined in her makeup. Her few, scattered memories weren’t hers, either.
I am nothing.
“Tarani, are you okay?” Rhys asked.
Not even close.
“This,” she lifted the crumpled letter, “explains a lot. But not everything. I have questions, and you’re going to answer them. With the whole truth.”
“Okay,” he agreed, shifting uneasily.
“Who is Brianna?” Tamerah had no idea, but she already hated her with all her being. She tossed the parchment to the table, disgusted.
“The woman in the memory you showed me.” Rhys’s jaw clenched.
Tamerah crossed her arms. She already knew that. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Fair enough.” Rhys started to pace. “I was born in Terahmaht, the otherworld. An ancient realm where magic was commonplace, where everything that today is called supernatural came to be. When I was born, it was already declining. The Sacred Lineages, the humankind’s guardians, were almost extinct.” Sadness washed over his face. “There was only one surviving lineage, the oldest, most important of all—the Descendants of the Goddess. Sheramath was the title given to that Lineage’s heir when she assumed her guardian role. Brianna was the last Sheramath.” His voice broke, and he stopped pacing.
The longing emanating from him was almost palpable, and it only added fuel to the rage coursing in Tamerah’s veins. He doesn’t care about me. He loves her. She swallowed a bitter laugh. She’s dead, and he still loves her.
It didn’t matter, anyway. Tamerah didn’t care about him, either. Brianna was the one who did. Focus on getting answers. “Terahmaht doesn’t exist anymore?”
“No.” Rhys’s shoulders slumped. “It overlapped what today is Ireland and the surrounding countries. It declined along with the Lineages, until it died. Those of us who’d crossed to this world remained here, unaffected.”
“I see.” She mulled over what she’d read. “Who is this Morahmath person, who brought me here and helped Brianna to screw me?”
“Screw you?” Rhys frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Morahmath means Mistress of Death,” Caeron said. “She’s our boss.”
Seersha. That’s why her name sounded familiar.
Tamerah turned to Caeron. “Are you from the
otherworld?”
“Rhys is the one with first-hand knowledge.” Caeron gave her a lopsided grin. “I just know things. Legends, rumors, that kind of shit.”
“What do you mean with ‘screw me’, Tarani?” Rhys stepped closer to her, and she went around him, walking in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to be near him right now. Maybe never again.
“So,” she said, ignoring Rhys’s growl, “I was sent to help you find these heirs.” She looked into his eyes. “You know what? Not interested. You’ve survived so far, I’m sure you can find them without me.”
“What the fuck has got into you?” Rhys’s voice was low, his face hard with anger. “You’ve said it yourself—you’re my last hope.”
“Well, you’re out of luck, Ryanne.” She used his old name because she knew it would hurt him. She wanted him hurt. His kindness, his protectiveness, even the kiss, hadn’t been for her. He must have sensed Brianna in her. And that made her soul bleed.
As she expected, his face paled with rage. “Don’t call me that. That person ceased to exist a long time ago.”
She cut deeper. “Like Rejan-Ashen?”
He turned his back to her. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Rhys? You don’t want me to be angry?” She started to shake again. Of course he’d want her to just accept the role she was created to fulfill.
Rhys bowed his head. “Don’t abandon me.”
No matter what. I’ll always be at your side. Her own words came back to her, slashing her heart open. Tears welled in her eyes, and she closed them.
No matter what.
The desire to protect Rhys and take care of him still felt like truth. But the betrayal and rage were just as real. Tamerah was torn into pieces, shattered like the glass in the ruins.
Her chest started to ache. She didn’t know anymore if the pain was Rhys’s or hers. No.I can’t do this. I need to get away from him.
Blinded by the tears that finally rolled down her face, Tamerah ran to the entrance hall. She tried to open the front door, but the handle wouldn’t budge. What the—
“No one can get in or out Caeron’s house without his permission,” Rhys said, standing behind her.