Chapter 32
Clare stared in horror as drooling fangs descended from the beast’s wart-covered mouth. Almost immediately, another set appeared in front of them. What kind of fucked-up creature had a double set of fangs?
She managed to conceal a whimper, knowing that her disgust and fear would give the hideous creature power over her. She willed herself not to cower as its scarred face came closer, the stench of its breath making her want to throw up.
“Welcome, my little necromancer.”
“I will never be your anything,” she spat. “Who are you?”
“I am Igor Doskominov, King of the Grimaalds.” The beast showed its ugly fangs again in a sickening grin. Its eyes shone a vile yellow, the stench of its breath became even more foul.
“You are tethered here to my kingdom by your blood. And you will work, you little bitch. Every day for eternity, rejuvenating the humans to feed my nobles, my serfs. While I and my accomplice here work to overthrow humans and monsters alike.”
“Yep, we’re partners.” Matteus puffed up his chest and stood shoulder to shoulder with the beast, grinning. The beast shoved him away. “A lesser partner,” it grunted.
Matteus bowed his head. “Always in the shadow of your greatness, your highness.”
“You fucking better believe it,” the beast huffed.
Gods, Clare realized, these two were pathetic. Dangerous, yes, hugely. But also… utterly pathetic. Like two children vying for her attention.
Now that the initial shock was over, she managed to glance around and take in her surroundings.
She was in the middle of a raised stone platform in a large square.
A huge palatial building stood in front of them, built from ebony stone, and covered in briar bushes with red flowers.
Above them, golden towers sparkled in the sunlight.
High walls surrounded them on all sides.
And inside the square, everywhere she looked were jabbering ugly creatures with pointed chins and hairy snouts, staring at her out of the same small yellow eyes. Grimaald demons. Hundreds of them.
In front of her on the platform, seated in a semi-circle, their hands tied behind their backs and their heads lolling, were five humans. She glared at Matteus and the beast. “What have you done to them?”
“We’ve drained them. They are not keeping up with demand.” Igor grunted, hulking over to one of the humans and poking at her inert frame with a clawed fist.
“Don’t!” Clare shouted. “Don’t you dare touch her!”
Igor’s jaw went slack for a moment. He looked like he might swipe out at her, then seemed to think better of it.
Matteus was at her shoulder now, his gloved hand stroking the back of her neck.
“You heard the great one, sweetheart. Get to work and replenish their blood stocks. And when you’ve finished with them,” he curved his other hand around her waist and pulled her close, sniffing at her neck, “maybe I will partake of you myself.”
She elbowed him in the stomach. “Get me a dagger,” she gritted out.
“So you can use it against me? Try another trick, princess.” Matteus scoffed.
“If you want me to save these poor humans, get me a fucking dagger,” she spat back, fear deserting her and anger taking its place.
Matteus just glared at her, until Igor shouted for him do to as he was fucking told.
In turn, Matteus shouted at the grimaalds.
“Bring a dagger.” There was a kerfuffle, and finally a dagger was brought to her.
Clare grabbed it and moved close to the first human.
She bared her arm, then sliced into the skin on the underside of her forearm.
She felt a sharp pang of pain, then saw dark blood welling up, running down her arm.
She heard the assembled grimaalds snorting and snuffling as they shuffled closer, scenting her.
She saw Matteus, a shadow behind her, and turned and shouted, wielding the dagger. “Keep your distance. All of you.”
Then she raised the first human’s head. It was Natalie; she was barely conscious.
Clare put her arm up to her old friend’s lips. “Drink,” she said softly, the blood running down her arm, warm and life-giving.
At first there was no response. Then finally, Natalie sipped, tiny, feeble sips until gradually, hungrily, she took more. Clare could see the life force returning to her body as her posture straightened. Finally, Natalie raised her head, and her eyes held recognition. “C—Clare, is that you?”
“Yes, and I’m here to help you. Now, take a few more mouthfuls.”
Natalie’s motions became stronger, a slick of color glowed in her cheeks. Finally sensing she’d had enough, at least to survive, Clare moved on, to Edward this time. She repeated the exercise.
“Your mom sends her love,” she told him softly, as his blue eyes stared at her, perplexed.
And then she tended to the other three, aware that Igor and Matteus were hovering close all the while. She sensed that her energy was keeping their evil at bay, but how long could she maintain that? Finally, she stood, placed her other hand over the cut on her arm to stem the bleeding.
The five humans must have taken well over a pint between them, yet she felt powerful. She felt strong.
Her whole body glowed with the ancient magick of necromancy.
She felt it flowing strong in her veins, replenishing her own blood.
She had done this, she had revived the humans.
Matteus and Igor started to advance, the huge grimaald snuffling like a giant pig, the hairs on his snout standing up, ears pricked, wide nostrils flared.
Matteus was no better. He was wiping saliva from his lips, staring at the humans like a hungry crocodile waiting for a feed.
“Leave them to rest now. Let them recover,” she warned.
Bracing through her legs, she held her hands up and felt the magick surge through her fingertips, halting them in their path.
It felt like destiny, like she had always known this ability was inside her, to bring souls back from the brink of death. To hold evil at bay.
And now she needed Oliver to finish what they had started.
In her mind’s eye, she willed him to come to her.
As if in answer, a sudden arc of light bolted across the sky, like a shooting star. It came closer until it was among then, so blinding that Igor and Matteus staggered back, covering their eyes.
Clare stood her ground, shielding her eyes.
The light dissipated and Oliver materialized, winged and clawed and beautiful.
Not bat, yet not man either. His chiseled features glowed in his translucent skin, his dark eyes sparked red and black.
On his finger, the Hale ring shot bolts of silver light around the square.
There was pandemonium. The sounds of horses whinnying and grimaalds screaming filled the air as they ran from the light.
Oliver strode to her side, his energy bolstering her own.
“Thank the gods, Clare. Are you okay?” She nodded.
“And the humans…” He glanced at the little group behind her.
“Yes, they are… very weak, but I have fed them. They will live.” She glanced over her shoulder. At least the humans’ heads were raised. Their expressions were still vacant, in thrall, but she knew they would at least survive.
Oliver’s arm came around her shoulders as they faced Matteus and the beast.
“Fucking Hale,” Matteus spat. “How in fuck’s name did you get here?”
“Seems the Hale ring knew where to find you.” Oliver held up the middle finger of his left hand in a salute.
“That’s nothing on the Kominsky ring.” Matteus mimicked the action, his middle finger raised. A bolt of dark matter zapped from his diamond, but the beam of silver from Oliver’s ring hit it before it reached them, and whatever evil was there disintegrated in mid-air with nothing more than a fizzle.
With a sudden roar, the beast threw off its cloak and bounded forward. Clare gasped. He was huge, three times bigger than before. Black wings burst from his shoulders, claws lengthened on his gnarled feet, and the foulness of his breath was so intense both Oliver and Clare gagged.
Oliver stood his ground. “Be gone, grimaald.”
The beast let out a bellow of rage. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He came closer, huffing big filthy belching breaths. “You don’t remember feasting off humans with me all those years ago?”
“I would remember your despicable stench anywhere.” Oliver turned his head away.
“Nowhere near as bad as your despicable soul,” the beast howled.
“You stole our food. Every night, you got there first, charming the humans with your sweet talk, bringing them back to the Wastelands. You sucked them dry, didn’t even leave a drop for me and my clan.
You were more devious, more cunning. You hid your evil behind your beauty, but inside, your stench was always far greater. ”
“You—lie.”
“I don’t need to lie. I know what I saw. How many did you leave for dead, Hale? Limp and bloodless.” He swiped a claw close to Oliver’s chest. “You don’t remember, but I do.”
Clare felt Oliver’s body stiffen. The energy around him faltered. The ring dimmed, the light from within it sputtering.
Desperately, she squeezed his hand, trying to bolster him with her own magick.
But she couldn’t maintain the connection.
This foul creature had seen into Oliver’s soul, found his shame, such deep shame at the acts he had perpetrated that it was like a scar on his soul. And now Igor was using that shame to try and shake her bond to him, make her doubt Oliver’s goodness.
To weaken their love, their magick.
She glanced at her beloved’s profile. His jaw clenched, his eyes almost unseeing.
“Oliver,” she called. “Come back to me.”
But if he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Somehow, she had to help him back to the light, to the goodness inside of him.
To their love.
Because if he faltered now, they were doomed.