Doppelganger Dirge: A Musical Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (Spellsinger Book 11)

by Amy Sumida

  “How many?” Poseidon asked grimly. “How many have died because of my hubris and ambition?”

  “I can't say.” Triton shook his head. “Over a hundred of our people at least. Then there are the beneathers who died fighting us and the thousands of humans who were killed by the tidal wave.”

  “And puppies and kittens!” Cerberus called down from the rim of the crater. He was leaning against a jagged boulder, staring at my grandfather with his beefy arms crossed.

  “Sweet saltwater,” Poseidon whispered as his gaze went distant. “I thought I remembered it all but some things are hazy; I didn't comprehend the enormity of my mistake. I was too worried about my family.” He looked from Triton to me. “The things Gargo said to you, Ellie-Bell. Using my voice. The things he did... it turns my blood to ice to recall them. Maybe you should have killed me.”

  “Don't say that, Grandpa. You were a victim along with the rest of us,” I insisted. “If it hadn't been you, Gargo would have found someone else to possess, I'm sure. And he's dead now. We destroyed his body before Lucifer exorcised him from yours. He had nowhere to go.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” Poseidon declared. “That monster had a burning hatred for you. The rage he felt whenever he thought of you was staggering. The only thing stronger was his desire for your blood.”

  “Yes.” I sighed. “He developed a taste for it when Odran and Galen tried to free him, and he never got over his addiction or my part in his re-imprisonment.”

  “It was more than that,” Poseidon said soberly. “Gargo envied you your freedom and the new relationship you'd formed with the Shining Ones. But, most of all, he believed that one god should never try to interfere with another, especially not on their home world. In his mind, you broke the most sacred of laws; the Law of the Gods.”

  “Well, ding dong, the god is dead,” Cerberus declared. “Now, get up here, you damn heathens. We're all waiting for our victory party while you stand down there whining. And it had better be a damn good party since we just saved the entire world.”

  “Again.” I smirked up at him.

  Cerberus chuckled. “Yeah. Again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Several of Poseidon's people needed to get back to the sea and couldn't stay for the celebration. Plus, Poseidon wanted to get home to his wife and set her mind at ease as well as free his daughter and the other prisoners Gargo had taken. So, I said goodbye to my grandfather before taking Lord Danyon and Lady Marsine back to the Sgàthan Sea. Luckily, neither of them had been injured in the battle, and I was able to return them to their people along with the good news that their army wouldn't be needed after all. The Asrai were so disappointed that I offered to take vials of their essence to Earth for them. That earned me a cheer the likes of which the Sgàthan Sea had never heard.

  When I returned to the Zone—after releasing hundreds of Asrai vials into the Pacific—I went directly into Slate and my palace bedroom. I intended to change into one of the gowns I kept there; something more appropriate to a celebration. But as I headed toward my dressing room, I paused, reconsidering. Most of our guests would be wearing the clothes they'd fought in. It would be rude of me to show up fresh-faced in a pretty dress. I started to turn back toward the bedroom door when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

  I turned toward the balcony and saw the edge of Slate's shoulder around the arched door frame. Frowning, I made my way across the room, past the behemoth of a bed and out onto the balcony. The Zone Lord stood at the stone railing, staring pensively across his domain.

  His demolished domain.

  I hadn't realized the scale of the damage until then. My stare focused on the crumbled buildings, torn-up streets, and assorted other wreckage as I stepped up to the railing beside Slate. Without a word, I took his hand, and we looked out upon the destruction together.

  “At least they never made it to this side of the city,” Slate murmured.

  “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Will it take years?”

  “To rebuild?” He shifted his stare to me. “No, not so long as that. But several months, possibly a year.” He pulled me in against his chest and sighed deeply as if that made things easier to bear. “The broken zone is just the surface injuries. I'm not worried about the wreckage.”

  “Then what?” I whispered to his solid chest.

  “The residents. The beneathers who live here and trusted me to keep them safe. That trust is shattered now.”

  “No, it's not.” I pulled away to look up at him in surprise. “You proved how far you'd go to protect them today. You challenged a god, Slate. Your god.”

  “And I lost.” His silver stare shifted away but not before I caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

  “Hell no, Gargoyle,” I growled as I slid between him and the railing. I took his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. “Don't do that. It took all of us to win today. You did your part. Rather ferociously, I might add.”

  “But Lucifer was the man who saved my zone and my life.” His jaw clenched as he stared at me. “He saved you when I could not.”

  “And when I could not.” I looked at him pointedly. “Because he's a god. More god than I am. It doesn't shame me to admit that. He has more magic than I do. But that magic would have been worthless without the rest of us helping him. Lucifer would have been overrun had he tried to fight Gargo alone... like you did. This was not his win; it's our win.”

  Something flashed in Slate's eyes. The silver gleamed and he grinned. “I suppose there's no shame in the truth. I just want to be the better man. For you.”

  “You are the better man for me.” I grinned at him. “You don't see Lucifer here, do you?”

  Slate chuckled and pulled me back into his embrace. “Fair enough, Spellsinger.” Then he went sober. “Maybe I should hand over the mantle to Aaro and retire. I could move to Kyanite with you.”

  “And be absolutely miserable,” I concluded. “This place is yours, baby. You carved a haven out of the Earth and shared it with any beneather who sought sanctuary. But that wasn't enough for you. You patrol the entire Beneath and keep people safe by capturing criminals. You're a born guardian, Slate. You love protecting people, and I don't want you to give that up.”

  “Nor do you want to give up this crystal palace,” he teased.

  “That too,” I admitted. “But, mainly, I don't want you moping around Kyanite Castle, bored out of your mind and grumping around meetings, scaring my people.”

  “I might not be visiting Kyanite at all for quite awhile.” He looked back at the Zone.

  “I'll come to visit you,” I promised. “And I'll bring you Shining Ones to help clean this crap up.”

  “Deal.”

  “Speaking of the criminals; were the arena prisoners caught?”

  “Either killed or apprehended.” He nodded. “Jago's got them chained and under guard in the arena while he's having the cells repaired.”

  “Good.” I nodded. “What about the dead? Do we know who we lost?”

  “I haven't taken that report yet,” he said softly. “I know that all of my gargoyles made it through the battle alive, if not unharmed, but as far as anyone else...” he shrugged.

  “Perhaps we should go downstairs and see for ourselves.”

  “My lady.” Slate held out his arm.

  “My zone lord.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Just before we entered the ballroom, I realized that Slate was wearing one of his usual, impeccable suits. He looked dashing and heart-stoppingly handsome which made me—in my wet suit (I hadn't changed after bringing Danyon and Marsine to the Zone)—look wild and dirty by comparison. Perhaps I should have changed into that gown after all.

  But then we stepped into the room, and I got a clear view of our guests. The shifters had donned fresh clothing like Slate—they kind of had to since they'd be naked otherwise—but the rest of the beneathers were as bedraggled as I. Gods with smears of blood on their faces laughed as they spoke wi
th Dragons in luxury clothing, harpies with designer scarves around their dangerous locks danced with Tritons in sea armor, and Suparnas displayed their feathered wings beside Angels. It was a motley assortment indeed, but all of them—disheveled or clean—looked happy. Even the Manticore general looked as if he were having a great time.

  “Ma cherie!” Baron Samedi yanked me into a hug.

  “Sam!” I hugged him back, relieved to see he'd survived Kimiko. When he released me, I looked him over, noting healing cuts all over his body. All over. I grimaced. “She gave as good as she got, eh? Why didn't you get some healing? I'm sure someone around here can speed things along for you.”

  Sam grinned, looking brutal beneath his bruises. A cut near his lip reopened and started to bleed. “I'll heal on my own, thanks. These cuts are medals of valor to me. That Kitsune cunt got far more than she gave.”

  “Kimiko is dead?”

  “May she rest in pieces.” Sam grinned wider, his white teeth looking like flashes of light against his dark skin. He'd lost his top hat but that didn't seem to bother him and that said a lot.

  “I'm glad you finally got your revenge, Sam,” I said gently. “I know how much she took from you and your people.”

  The Baron lost his smile. He nodded gravely and held up his glass. “The dead are always with us. I hope I've appeased them.”

  A shiver ran through me.

  “Personally”—Sam went back to smirking—“I would have preferred to drag it out a bit longer, but I had a war to get back to.”

  “I'm glad you were with us today, Baron.” Slate slapped Sam on the shoulder.

  “Me too.” Sam gave us a jaunty bow then spun around and shouted, “Laissez les bon temps rouler!”

  The crowd cheered as he rejoined them.

  Before Slate and I could take another step, King Zhavage glided before us and bowed. “May I have this dance, Queen Elaria?”

  I looked at Slate.

  “Don't look at me, sweetheart,” Slate said with a grin. “I don't own you.”

  I chuckled and repeated his earlier sentiments, “Fair enough, Zone Lord. Although, there was a time when you would have said the opposite.”

  “How foolish I was. No one can own a spellsinger.” He kissed my cheek. “Go ahead and dance with the dragon but save the last dance for me.”

  “You mean the one we'll be having in bed later?” I whispered in his ear.

  “That's the one.” Slate winked at me and went to mingle.

  I took Zhavage's hand and let him lead me to the center of the room where some beneathers were twirling to music piped in through hidden speakers. “I'll Be” by Jeremy Kay was playing, and I found myself swung into the dragon king's arms expertly. He grinned playfully at me, his exotic sage-green eyes sparkling mischievously, and pulled me close enough to make me nervous.

  We swayed to the romantic music, and I would have enjoyed the simple act of listening and dancing without the pressure of singing, if not for the blatant sexuality rolling off my partner. I cleared my throat and looked away from his intense stare.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable, Elaria?” Zhavage leaned forward to whisper in my ear and his hair fell against my cheek in a silken slide.

  “Not at all.”

  He didn't give an inch. “This has been the most fun I've had in over a thousand years. Absolutely exhilarating.” He lifted his head to smile at me. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

  “I should be thanking you for helping us,” I countered.

  “We only played a bit.” He shrugged. “Your Angel God did the hard work and won the day.”

  “This sounds familiar,” I muttered.

  Zhavage lifted a cinnabar brow at me.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head. “Never mind. What I meant to say was; we all did our parts. You and your fellow dragons especially.”

  “I'm glad you think so.” He glanced around the room then back at me. “I overheard your conversation with your grandfather. Do you visit him often?”

  “I used to. Not so much recently.”

  “Hmm.” Zhavage pursed his lips and looked me over. “Pity.”

  I cleared my throat and prepared to launch into a “let's be friends” speech. Before I could say a word, Zhavage went on.

  “My brother and you would suit each other well.”

  My mouth shut with an audible click.

  Zhavage grinned. “I see that I've surprised you. Did you not suspect his interest?”

  I didn't bother to pretend that I didn't know which brother he was referring to. “Verin hates me. Though, for the life of me, I can't reason why.”

  Zhavage made a pensive sound and slid his eyes to the side. I followed them to find King Verin staring back. He stood among a group of soldiers, a glass in his hands, but his expression was dark while his companions' were animated with revelry. When Verin's gaze snagged mine, it narrowed.

  “There is a reason for his hostility but it is not my tale to tell,” Zhavage said softly. “What I can say is that I've never seen such reactions from my brother before.”

  “Those reactions are a step away from enemy territory.”

  “Yes, but why?” Zhavage lifted his brows.

  “You just said there was a reason. You tell me,” I countered.

  “No, Elaria, I mean; why would he react to you so strongly when he barely knows you? His reasons do not involve you personally so why take out his anger on you? Other people have annoyed Verin before, and he merely makes one of his animal noises and stomps away. He doesn't let it affect him and he certainly doesn't brood over it. He doesn't care enough to.”

  “You're saying that he cares about me and that's why he's such an asshole to me?” I started laughing.

  Zhavage grimaced at me. “My brother doesn't waste his time on pettiness. So, if not petty hatred, what is it that I see burning in Verin's eyes?”

  “May I cut in?” My uncle Triton saved me from having to respond.

  “And I?” Triteia asked as she sashayed up to our other side in her short, warrior skirt.

  I shot her a grateful glance as I shifted into Triton's arms. Zhavage grinned knowingly at me then transferred his attention to my cousin. Even in her dirty armor, Triteia looked incredible, and she added some physical temptation to the mix by brushing her body against the dragon king teasingly. Oh, yes, they'd get along swimmingly.

  “Thank you,” I sighed as my uncle danced me away. “That conversation was getting awkward.”

  Triton laughed. “I saw you floundering and thought I'd better rescue you before you got in too deep. I know Zhavage very well, and his appetites are the stuff of legend.”

  “I'd rather make my own legends, I think.” I winked at him, not bothering to tell him that it wasn't Zhavage's appetites that worried me.

  “And you have.” Triton went serious. “This battle will go down in history.”

  “We all fought today,” I repeated for the third time. “It was the Beneath who won.”

  “Yes, but some of us were more integral to the win than others. Thank you, Niece. Thank you for saving my father.”

  “He's my family too, Uncle,” I said softly. “And I'm partially responsible for Gargo finding him.”

  “No. You did the best you could with the knowledge and skill you had at the time. What happened afterward was pure chance; it had nothing to do with you.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He's right, my love. You've been carrying too much guilt lately. None of this is your fault. Especially not your attraction to other men, Kyanite said the last bit with heat.

  Don't start, RS huffed. I'm not influencing her anymore.

  And I'm not going to feel guilty anymore. Saying it, even in the semi-privacy of my head, felt good. Freeing.

  I finished my dance with Triton then he escorted me to my men. They stood in a circle, drinking bottled beer with a few Gargoyles and Apollo.

  “There you are,” Apollo exclaimed. “Cheers, El.” He lifted his bottle to me
.

  “Here you go, little bird.” Torin handed me a bottle of cider; my favorite.

  “Thank you.” I took the bottle and clicked it to Apollo's. “Cheers, Sun God. You did good.”

  “We both did.”

  Now, here was a man whose pride I didn't have to polish. Apollo never shied away from a compliment or missed the chance to shine. That could be annoying but right then, it was a relief.

  We drank to our victory but as I lowered my bottle, I noticed Gage and frowned. He had shifted back to his human form and was wearing some new clothing, likely donated by one of the Zone's shops. He looked debonair in a suit similar to Slate's but it wasn't the slick duds that caught my attention. It was the look in his eyes.