CHAPTER 2
Zarreth
I peer through the glass patio door, watching the most beautiful woman in fucking existence throw back a shot of liquor.
She laughs, wiping drops of liquid from her plump lips. Dark curls cascade around her bare shoulders like a waterfall in a haunted forest; a forest I would gladly rip apart for the chance to peer into her emerald-green eyes.
“Dumbass,” scoffing to myself, I shake the thoughts from my head remembering why I’m here. She may be hot as hell, but Frankie Hart needs to die.
I envision wrapping my fingers around her pretty neck. I bet just one of my hands could fit around it, snapping it like a twig. She’s weak right now, not expecting it. I could lure her away, shove her against a tree, seeing how wet she is under that sorry excuse for a dress.
FUUUUCK, no! Stay focused Zarreth. I’ll make it quick. Snap her neck, then take care of the redhead too. But that might raise too many questions. I need to be patient and wait until she’s alone.
I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, forgetting I no longer need to hide my horns now that they’re gone. Frankie tugs at the bottom of a dress barely covering her ass. Damn she has nice legs, long and smooth. My cock throbs envisioning those legs wrapped around my waist.
Snapping myself from a moment of temporary insanity, I step further into the shadows, behind the tree line. A maroon SUV flies up the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The horn blares before coming to a stop, mere inches from the front porch. A red-faced man with a thinning comb-over rolls down the window and yells, “Let’s go.”
Who the fuck is this guy?
“Calm your tits,” the red head yells as she and Frankie burst through the door. “We’re coming.”
“Jess! He’s just doing his job,” Frankie admonishes, giving the driver an apologetic look. “Sorry about my friend.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the driver says as his eyes roam over her body. “I’ve had worse passengers.”
Frankie tugs at her dress once more, smiling uncomfortably at him. Holding back a growl, I ponder the different ways I could separate his head from his body. He doesn’t deserve her looks, her smiles. They’re mine, and I plan to take them all.
The wind blows in my direction as Frankie crawls into the back seat. The intoxicating scent of sunshine and lavender invades my nostrils, the world around me fading into a blur.
Thump.
Thump.
My heart pounds under my ribcage as a rush of familiarity washes over me. Placing my hand to my chest, I try rubbing out the slight ache lingering there as they drive away. What the fuck was that? Why am I having such a strong reaction to her?
I figured she would smell like death and darkness. Someone who smells like heaven couldn’t possibly be the Realm Eater, could they?
Focus, Zarreth. Emerging from the shadows, I make my way to her house and climb the steps to her porch. They squeak and strain under my weight as I grip the doorknob, easily turning it in my hands.
Why the fuck isn’t her door locked? It fucking irritates me. It’s like she’s begging for something violent to happen to her.
I step over the threshold to an open floor plan, directly entering the living room. I’m greeted by a poster of a meditating frog with the caption Try not to be a dick . Ha, the girl has a sense of humor.
Blankets and pillows drape the couch, and a pile of books rests on the coffee table. The only thing separating the kitchen and the living room is a small island with two barstools next to it.
I look through her house, trying to find anything that screams Realm Eater, but find nothing, unless Realm Eaters sleep with pink stuffed dinosaurs. I bring the dinosaur to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells like her, pleasant and calming.
The idea of killing her isn’t sitting well with me. I’ve killed a lot throughout the years, but never a female. It’s hard to believe someone who seems so harmless could be responsible for obliterating entire realms. Maybe I’ll watch her for a few days to be sure she’s the danger we think she is.
I head back to the old, abandoned barn across the road from Frankie’s house. It’s less than extravagant, but it’s far better than the dark, musty cell I lived in for the past twenty years. We chose it because it’s close to Frankie, and no one will suspect we’re staying here.
Someone must have lived here at some point because two of the stalls have ratty, stained mattresses on the ground. The inch of dust on the old wooden table tells us whoever it was hasn’t been here for a while.
Ronin bitches at me the moment I walk through the door. I don’t have to say anything for him to know I let Frankie live.
“What the fuck man? Twenty years in captivity made you soft.” He leans back in a metal chair, balancing on its two rear legs. “I thought you were chosen to lead The Recreants during the rebellion because of your big, bad reputation.”
Ronin and I are from the Realm of Darkened Depths. There are only two demon hordes there, the Death Horde and The Recreants.
Aradon, one of the oldest demons in existence, is the overlord of the Death Horde. He controls two of the three bodies of water, leaving most demons no choice but to bow down to him.
Thankfully, the third body of water is in The Recreants’ village. If we didn’t have access to it, our horde would have been forced to join the Death Horde along with the others. But that didn’t stop Aradon from terrorizing us, raiding our village once a month.
When I was ten years old, my dad went hunting with a group of demons. I begged him to let me come, telling him I would be a better warrior if I did. He reassured me I had the most important job of staying back to protect my mother.
“Mother doesn’t need my protection! She’s fierce!”
“Even the fiercest of warriors need someone by their side.”
That night, Ronin and I learned a lesson we’ll never forget. While we were playing outside, our mothers were preparing dinner. An eerie silence overcame our minds, as if they were taken over by shadows. I didn’t know what terror was until that night when we were forced to watch our mothers being raped by members of the Death Horde. We sat there, utterly helpless, unable to look away as we fought against the shadows claiming our minds. That was the first time I felt Aradon’s dark magic in my head. It was definitely not the last.
Ronin and I vowed to never let something like that happen again. We started practicing with a sword after that. Every day, we would train until our hands were bloody and callused, making sure we were as strong as possible before the change was complete. I completed the change, maturing into my powers first. Stronger and faster than most, I was chosen to lead an army. Ronin completed his change a year later and became my second in command.
It took years to build an army big enough, but we finally decided to rebel. We couldn’t keep living in constant fear. The battle turned into a war that lasted years. Severely outnumbered, on the brink of losing our horde, Aradon offered to let them live in peace if Ronin, three other demons, and I submitted to him.
It was an easy choice for me. I was done watching my horde suffer. Their safety was worth my life. Aradon took us prisoner, and that’s where we’ve been for the past two decades.
Ronin has a right to be pissed—we need to get back to our horde—but I’m still tempted to kick out the legs of his chair and send him crashing to the ground. Leading our small horde into battle and killing a puny halfling with a great smile are two very different things.
I turn the other rusty chair around and sit backwards; a habit I evidently still have, even though my wings are gone. “We need more time.”
“We don’t have time,” Ronin reminds me. “We need to kill her before Aradon finds her so we can finally go home.”
I know he’s right, but still I say, “What if the prophecy is wrong? What if she’s not what we think she is?” I don’t know why I’m hesitant. She may not be evil now, but she will be after she completes the change.
Ronin taps his thumbs against the front of the small rectangular contraption he’s holding. “We can’t take the chance. Think of the things Aradon could force someone with her powers to do. She needs to die.”
He slides the contraption across the table to me. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, studying it.
“I know. I’ll take care of her.” I hold up the contraption, changing the subject. “What is this?”
“That is your new best friend,” Ronin says. “It’s called a cell phone. Think of it as sending a letter to someone, only faster. They don’t work in the Dark Realm, but it will come in handy while we’re here.”
Ronin knows a lot about human technology and culture. Many older demons can trace within a realm simply by imagining a place they have already been, but only few have a traveler’s mark, allowing them to trace between realms. As a shadow demon, Ronin was born with one, so he’s been to the Human Realm many times over the years.
I focus on Ronin’s explanation of how to use the phone. We don’t plan to be in the Human Realm long, but I can see how the little tool will be useful.
Once Ronin is confident I can use the cell phone, he stands, pulls a flask from his pocket, and hands it to me. “This will help with your wounds.” He nods to a bag sitting in the corner. “The clothes in that bag will help you blend in. Get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you.”
Before I can respond, he disappears, leaving behind a cloud of white smoke. Gods, I miss tracing. I can’t wait for my powers to come back.
I take a swig from the flask. How the hell did he get demon brew?
Shadow demons are known for having all sorts of connections and for being notoriously crafty. That’s why they make excellent spies. Ronin was one of the best spies in the Dark Realm; before we got captured anyway.
Looking over my shoulder to where my wings should be, I twist the top off the demon brew and dump it over my back. It stings, but it should prevent infections.
Normally demons don’t worry about infection because of our ability to heal rapidly, but after everything Aradon did to me, it will take time for all my abilities to return.
I turn my attention to the stab wound on my stomach. It’s bright red, seeping pus. A scab has formed, so I sterilize my knife, hissing while I reopen the cut. Cleaning it the best I can, I squeeze out the infection before applying a bandage.
My other wounds have already begun healing. If I sleep tonight, they should all be completely closed by tomorrow. Of course, that will have to wait because I have a little halfling to watch.