Chapter 11 #2
“The Old Ones don’t answer to anyone,” he stubbornly insists. He doesn’t look nearly so confident now.
I kneel next to him, my power gathering. “They answer to me.”
With that I begin to incant. “From blood and air, rock and flame, I banish you back from whence you came.”
I shove my power down my arms and into the demon. He grunts, his back arching as the magic sinks in.
Just as quickly as it takes hold, it sloughs off him.
The fuck?
Forming my magic once more, I repeat, “From blood and air, rock and flame, I banish you back from whence you came.”
Power plunges from my palms into his chest.
Once again, it slides away without taking hold.
“What in the Seven Hells?” I whisper as Nero moves to my side, his eyes fixed to the beast in front of us.
Why isn’t it working?
The demon laughs in my face. “Thought you could banish me?” He shakes his head slowly. “Foolish human. I cannot be sent back except upon the death of the mortal who controls me.”
I’d nearly forgotten about the terms of the forged bond made between supernatural and demon.
The last time I sent a demon back, the bond had only partially been paid—the demon had tasted my blood and thus agreed to the binding, but then, Leonard Fortuna and the other man had proceeded to wait for that demon to kill me.
And I sent that demon back to the Underworld before he ever could.
This one, however, completed the bond.
Behind me, I hear the crunch of pine needles.
“There are fates worse than banishment.” Memnon’s guttural, magic-laced voice rings out like a curse. I exhale, even as the hairs along my arms stand on end.
When he reaches me, his hand falls to my shoulder. Est amage, are you okay?
If I were standing, my knees would’ve given out. As it is, I lean back against him, allowing myself this small indulgence.
I am now, I admit.
I inwardly wince at the gooey sentiment.
The demon watches us as Memnon kneels beside me, brushing my hair aside and leaning in to press a kiss to my neck.
He hesitates, and I only realize why a moment later when, instead of his lips, his fingers touch the side of my bloody neck, where my blood is cooling. An orb of pale blue light floats several feet above the sorcerer, illuminating my injuries.
Memnon doesn’t say anything, but his power begins to burgeon out of him, plumes of it rolling over the ground.
The demon goes still, his eyes pinned to my soul mate in a way that makes the creature seem like he’s prey eyeing a predator.
I’m certain Memnon is moments away from doing something atrocious to this creature, particularly once the sorcerer stands.
Wait.
Memnon stills. Yes, Empress?
“I want answers from him first,” I say, my gaze pinned to the demon.
The beast struggles fruitlessly to pry himself from the earth’s embrace. Distantly, I’m aware of the Hungering Ones waiting, watching.
Memnon reaches out and strokes my cheek. “Then you shall have them.” His thumb passes over my lower lip, tilting my face toward his. Unsurprisingly, his eyes are glowing. “But once you’re through with him, he’s mine,” he all but growls.
A shiver passes through me, one that might be due to blood loss but also because this reminds me of who we were—king and queen, both warriors and rulers.
When I turn back to the demon, a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. “Deal.”
Refocusing on the demon, I lift a hand. “Only the truth shall pass your lips,” I incant, aiming my magic at the creature.
The demon’s lips peel back to reveal its sharp canines as my power slips down its throat.
“What is your name?” I ask.
The demon laughs again, shaking his head back and forth. “You think I am bound by your power, wit—Maelverynox.”
His eyes widen, and for an instant he looks comically startled. The moment he recovers, he snarls.
I might be bloody and tired, but still I feel a rush of triumph.
“Maelverynox,” I echo.
The demon tries to lunge up for me, his eyes burning with fury. The earth, however, holds him fast, and his teeth snap nothing but air.
“That’s not very nice,” I taunt.
He hisses at me.
Goddess, I’m sure it’s epically foolish to piss off a demon, but hell, he was planning on eating me anyway.
“Who has bound you?”
The demon snarls, a string of Demonish words leaving his lips.
“Who?” I demand, forcing more magic into my question.
I can see his throat working as the answer tries to pry itself free.
He growls, the sound low in his throat. Then, finally—
“Adan Quintana.” The name rips from his lips.
My eyes rise and meet Memnon’s, who still lingers close, a look of abject hatred in his eyes as he stares at the demon.
Does that name mean anything to you? I ask. I don’t recognize it myself.
Only that Adan Quintana is living on borrowed breath, Memnon says ominously.
I turn back to the demon. “What was the command Adan gave you concerning me?”
“Torture Selene Bowers, then kill her.”
A wave of nausea rolls through me. Demons are terrifying enough as it is, but to command one to torture a person first? Sick.
A massive wave of Memnon’s magic rolls through the forest, and certain sections of that billowing blue power light up, as though a storm brews from within.
I know that this is when my husband’s magic slips its leash.
I doubt I have much more time to interrogate the demon before Memnon insists on his vengeance.
“Why would Adan want to hurt me?” I ask the demon.
He spits in my face.
I was wrong about having more time for interrogation. I’ve barely reared away from the demon when Memnon’s magic shoves me to my feet and back into the sorcerer’s arms. In the chaos of the moment, I think the creature answers the question, but his words are lost to me.
My soul mate holds me close for a single, possessive moment, a softer burst of his magic cleaning away the spit that hit my cheek.
He presses a kiss to my temple, his lips skimming my ear. “My turn.” My flesh pebbles at the low, inhuman tone of his voice.
Memnon moves around me, toward the trapped demon, his hair billowing about him. He crouches down at the creature’s side just as Nero comes to mine.
The demon is struggling in earnest to free himself, but the Hungering Ones still hold him fast.
“Do you know who I am?” Memnon asks almost conversationally.
The demon tries to spit again, but the sorcerer was ready for it. He grabs the demon by the jaw and digs his fingers into either side of it, forcing Maelverynox’s mouth open.
“I didn’t think so.”
He reaches into the demon’s mouth and grips a canine. Using magic and force, he rips a tooth out.
The demon screams, the sound echoing in the woods. Ignoring Maelverynox’s cries and the black blood seeping from the corner of his lips, Memnon pulls out the other canine.
Once the demon’s shouts die off, Maelverynox begins to laugh. “You think to scare me, mortal? I have lived in hell. I’ve endured things that would make your gods quake.”
My husband leans forward, and though his power is nipping at him, he seems to have some semblance of control.
“I’m going to behead you, demon, and then I will bury your body so deep in the fucking ground that, undying or not, you won’t be able to claw your way out.
” He leans in closer. “I’m sure it will remind you of your home—just a little less hot. ”
I have to swallow my bile. Instead, I place a bracing hand on Nero, who sits protectively close to me.
The demon growls, pulling against the earth restraining him. At any moment, the Hungering Ones could release Maelverynox. But they don’t.
“And while you struggle, there in the deep earth, I will hunt your Adan down, and only once I end him, will you know any semblance of peace.”
The demon is fighting to pry himself free of the earth.
“But first, I will see every thought that has crossed your mind, concerning me and my mate.”
Does Memnon’s magic even work on demons?
Around us, flashes of light illuminate the clouds of Memnon’s power as he tips the demon’s head back. I can see his arms trembling with the effort it’s taking him to keep his power in check.
It’s hard to tell through the thickening clouds of his magic what’s happening between the sorcerer and demon, but Maelverynox shrieks and writhes, and then he subsides, growing almost peaceful, and I think that Memnon must be deep inside his mind.
Finally, Memnon releases the demon. Along our connection, I sense his churning nausea, and I cannot fathom what my husband must’ve seen to make him, of all people, queasy.
Maelverynox is whispering something under his breath. “…Serve to, serve to, serve to…”
Memnon and I share a look.
“What’s he talking about?” I ask.
The sorcerer shakes his head, scowling. “I don’t know, his thoughts were more muddled than what I’m used to.”
Because the creature wasn’t human, and thus Memnon’s magic could only imperfectly perform what it was used to doing.
The demon rouses from his stupor with force, trying fruitlessly to lunge up from the ground, his lips drawn back. “I will rip your face off with my bare hands—”
Memnon laughs low and hollow, reaching for a blade sheathed at his thigh, his magic still riding him hard. I tense as he draws the weapon. I sense now that though my soul mate has managed to restrain his power, his humanity has become untethered.
He taps the end of the blade to the scar on his face. “Someone already tried that.” His eyes blaze so terribly bright. “It ended worse for him than it did me. But sure”—he lifts his chin—“try it.”
“You motherfucker, I will eat you alive and make you watch as I …” Maelverynox slips into Demonish, promising foulness I can neither understand, nor likely fathom.
Memnon grabs the demon by the hair, forcing his head back.
My soul mate pauses then, glancing over at me. When he’s like this, when his power has soaked into every vein and pore and his mind is wholly consumed by it, he is another force altogether.
I don’t know what he sees on my face or pries from my thoughts, but he says in that unsettling voice of his, “I will spare you these grisly sights.”
He raises his free hand. “Sleep.”