19. Darius
NINETEEN
Iwatch as the girl I’ve been obsessed with for over a decade vanishes in front of me, a roar of outrage bursting from me as I strike the ground with a burst of magic where she once knelt. Dirt and mud fly through the air as I take deep, uneven breaths, my hand letting my scythe go as I try to compose myself. I shift, letting my cloak and horns fall away as my normal black clothing reappears, replaying every detail of what just took place.
Serafina Covington.
She’s fucking stunning and everything I’ve ever wanted. Her fierce nature and unwillingness to back down only fueled my need to claim her as my own. Which wasn’t the fucking plan! The little girl with black hair and haunted gray eyes that I knew from the hellish warehouse I was locked in has grown into a hauntingly beautiful woman. Her pain radiates off her like a cry for help, yet from the way she has her magic shielded off, everyone has ignored her, letting her deal with the agony of death on her own.
Something I can, unfortunately, relate to.
It”s been thirteen years since I last saw her. Thirteen years that I wondered what had happened to the girl I saw strapped to that table beside me, and now that I found her, she’s vanished again. I had hunted Serafina religiously once my father died, yet every time I got close, her trail vanished. At the time, I wanted to eradicate her. She was the reason I was there, after all.
I know powerful people are protecting her, and she would be somewhere with the councilman’s family. However, the location of his home is not easily accessible information. I would have had better luck breaking into the damn Vatican, than discovering the Covington family home.
Glancing around once more, I let the world I had created to spirit her away from the danger she had unknowingly walked into go and open my eyes, finding myself in my office, where I had first heard her call. If she had just taken my hand, all of my concerns would be over.
“Sir?”
Glancing up, I find Alastor watching me with a hesitant look on his wrinkled face. Clearing my throat, I channel my anger into the task ahead of me as I look back down at my computer, trying to remember what we were talking about before Serafina beckoned me to her side.
“Where were we?” I ask, not elaborating on what just happened. As much as I liked Alastor, I wouldn”t explain myself to him.
“The princes, sir,” he says, his voice carrying a softness most Demons don”t possess. I nod and stand, brushing off my pristine three-piece suit, ensuring the ruby cuff links are secure before stepping around my desk.
“When is the summons?”
“Now, sir,” he rasps, looking at the elaborate grandfather clock ticking in the corner of my office. I look at the brass and jeweled face of the clock and sigh, realizing I had been gone much longer than I thought.
“Very well,” I announce, moving toward the office”s double doors and watching the two servants stationed on either side of the doors jump to open them for me as I stride into the large hallway. Servants scurry through the ornate hallways carrying items to and from rooms, keeping their gaze averted the moment they sense me near. I hear Alastor follow behind at a respectable distance, and I have to stifle the urge to roll my eyes. Despite my position and title, I’m still followed and watched as if I’m a traitor to my own kind, simply because of the blood running through my veins.
I move through the twisting halls, mentally preparing myself for the meeting about to take place. I know the princes will do everything in their power to make me react. They’ve wanted me out since the moment my father died, yet Demonic Law won’t allow them to do so unless I give them a valid reason.
Even Demons must uphold our traditions; otherwise, everything would fall into chaos. Hell’s flame would extinguish without the seven princes united as one, something that has been in danger of happening since two princes were killed in battle thirteen years ago.
The gold embroidery threads of the rugs lining the halls of the castle gleam in the candlelight cast by the tall candelabras on the walls. The red brick stone holds a glimmer of magic that heats the air to an almost stifling temperature that has sweat dotting my brow. I unconsciously tug at the too-tight collar of my black button-down shirt, hating the finery of the clothes my title now forces me to wear.
Turning a corner, I slow my steps as I approach the golden doors leading to the throne room. Servants rush about, their panicked eyes trained on their feet, so they don”t accidentally upset those who are above their station. Cracking my neck to the side, I move to stand in front of the doors, just as Alastor coughs, and I look at him.
“Your appearance, sir,” he says hesitantly, and I curse as I realize I haven”t shifted back into my Demonic form.
“Of course,” I grind out, hating how I forgot to shift before leaving my office. Servants talk, and I’m already the hottest gossip of the castle; my stalking about the halls in a normal form will no doubt spark talk about how weak I am.
Freeing my magic, I shift in a matter of seconds, electing to don my Reaper’s cloak for added emphasis and making sure to let the death magic filter into the air, making pained gasps sound from the nearby servants. Let them say how weak I am, as long as they know I can snuff out their lives with a simple thought.
“Doors,” I demand, letting the red fog of my magic collect at my feet as I move forward, making the people near me jump out of my way in fear. I stride into the throne room, the dimly lit area fitting my morbid mood as I keep my gaze forward, ignoring the pleas and cries of a woman strapped to an altar at the back of the room.
Red ribbons of blood run down the slanted black marble floors, their sources hung from the rafters along the sides of the long rectangular room. A harsh metallic scent hangs thickly in the air, mingling with sulfur as two Hounds snarl at me. Their mangled fur-covered heads tilt to the side, black Demon’s Bane dripping from their snapping jowls in warning until I look their way. Casting my Demonic magic out from around my feet, I watch as they cower and howl, jerking back from me and pulling on the thick metal chains holding them in place.
“Pathetic,”I rasp as I watch them from my peripheral.
I watch as all six Princes turn their attention toward me as I approach the seven thrones set around a circular dais with a glowing black flame in the center. Each throne is the same size and elaborate design, the only difference is the color, denoting to whom the throne belongs. I nod my head respectfully to them before moving to the empty red throne and sitting, leaning back in the enormous chair as I make a show of getting comfortable.
Women lounge on the ground by their feet, the prince’s favorite whores or playthings they want to keep around. Most are collared, all scantily clad in the color of the Demon to whom they belong.
“Darius Zephyr,” Belphegor rasps as he leans forward on his golden throne. His yellow-tinged skin looks almost gray from the cool-toned light Hell’s flames cast on us all, making him look far more monstrous than normal.
“Belphegor,” I greet, tearing my eyes away from the woman, trying to bury the rage I feel when I see them. I keep my voice cold and indifferent as I watch Leviathan shift at my side, his green-clawed hands clutching at the armrests of his throne like they’re the only things keeping him from striking out to kill me. I almost smirk at that idea, wishing the idiot would be stupid enough to do so. His oldest son and heir is much more reasonable to work with. I would prefer it if he would take over.
“How is your assignment going?” Belphegor asks, his neon yellow eyes locked on me, watching… always fucking watching and seeing everything.
“Agreeably,” I respond, keeping my answer vague, not wanting to dive into the shit show I’m currently wrangling.
“That”s it?” Leviathan snarls, spittle flying from his dark green lips as he glares at me. “You are closing in on your deadline, boy. You had better produce an agreeable outcome to the assignment you were given if you want to keep your father”s throne. He would be disappointed in you if he were here to see this!” the royal Demon says as if that’s something that would hurt me. As far as fathers go, Mammon was one of the worst. If things had played out differently, there’s a good chance I’d be the target some other fool would be going after. Thankfully, everything’s worked out in my favor.
“Well. My father is not here. And I still have three months to eradicate the Covington Reaper line,” I grind out, the small claws at my fingertips lengthening as I think back to how close I had been to Serafina Covington. I should have taken her the moment I laid eyes on her, yet there was something about her that enchanted me. Not her beauty, though she was stunning. Not even her powerful dual-form magic. Something that I have never seen in anyone but myself.
It was her eyes.
The broken look on her face, the emptiness I saw that matched what I felt my entire life. It settled some of the hatred in me to know she had been suffering as much as I had these last few years. Something she deserves for what she’s done. I hate her almost as much as I hate the Demons sitting in front of me, and as long as everything worked according to plan, both would pay for their actions.
I’ve never had a place to belong. Not with the pets my father kept for pleasure and not with the other Demonic children born to the princes. I was born of both worlds. Something that is shunned and hardly ever happens. The ones I do know of were killed before they reached adulthood by the very fathers who sired them, because they didn’t want to have a weak Demon with their name. An action I had watched first hand by the man who sired me. The only reason Mammon spared my life was because he had no heir to take his place. I grew up knowing the moment he did, I would be eradicated.
I grind my teeth together at the reminder of my shit childhood as I look at the very men who condemned me my entire life. Nothing brings me more pleasure than knowing I’m their equal. Or rather, I will be once I complete my assignment. The Covington line must end, but I would have to take care of everything before erasing the final member. Now that I know how close Serafina is, her capture will be easy and should bring her brother here for revenge. It is, after all, Gabriel Covington’s fault that his sister has a death sentence. Killing a Royal Demon will never go unpunished, he knows that.
Asmodeus is the next to speak, his orange eyes moving to the only other new person in the circle. “Malik? How is the soul rendering going?” he asks respectfully to the newest Demonic Prince. I suppress the urge to grimace at the reminder of the dead girls I had seen when I answered Serafina’s call. There had been heaps of them, all from the school or nearby villages. I even heard Malik mention he had some Hounds bringing human girls back from the Romanian villages so he could complete his task faster.
“Splendidly, my prince,” Mailk answers with a twisted smirk on his face. Technically, he doesn”t need to address the rest of the Royals that way, since he now holds the same title. But the young man has always been a kiss-ass, and I’ve always hated him for it. “The breeding grounds for the Hounds and lower class have tripled, producing more Demons than we have had in years. The lives harvested by the fertile females have accelerated their growth, and they should be battle-ready in five, maybe six months tops.”
I can”t stop my nose from wrinkling in disgust at those words. Fertile females. Not that I care about a few Fae or Human deaths. I’ve killed my fair share of them in the last decade, but the way Malik lures, and then harvests the girls while they still live is something I’ll never be able to stomach. He tortures them while shredding their very essence until not even their souls can survive. It’s vile and only increases my disdain for the man. Maybe it”s because I’m only half a Demon, and I didn’t inherit a taste for torture.
Death, yes. Torture for fun? No.
Or perhaps it”s because I’m half Reaper. Every soul is a delight to rip from a body. The thrill of death is something that I long for. But it”s the soul that I crave. The light of life that feeds my magic and makes me want more.
“Very good. What are your most recent numbers?” Asmodeus asks, nodding his approval at Beelzebub’s son. Malik looks at me and winks, his gray-tinged skin almost black in the dim lighting.
Malik and I have never gotten along. Even as children before my father forced me to move to the Fae world and become a test subject for a madman. Malik is a full-blooded Demon, Beelzebub’s heir, whereas I’m the bastard son of one of my father”s pets. His true Demon wife never produced an heir for him before his death, leaving me as the only one with his magic who could take his place. Much to the dismay of every other Demon in this room.
“We are at four hundred and twelve with another eighteen due this month. Another four dozen low-born females are pregnant, and at the current growth rate, they should reach maturity in eighteen months time. We have eighty-six studs that we are using, all of them with strong Demonic traits and extraordinary strength. The males born are immediately removed from their mothers and put into care until they are old enough to be thrown in the fight pits. Females are left with their mothers for their first year of life before being removed and given hormones to develop estrus, then taken to the breeding grounds when they are old enough to carry a child without dying.”
There is a hum of approval from the princes, and I can’t help but be grateful that I don’t have to deal with the lower-class Demons. They’re little more than mindless animals, beasts who are born of Hell and have a taste for blood, death, and rutting. They’re the pawns in our wars, the soldiers sent in to destroy the first line of defense. We lost more than we thought we would at the battle in North America over a decade ago. Our dwindling numbers are a constant problem in our fight to claw back the territory stolen from us by the Angels.
“If we stay our course, we should be able to take back the territory to the east by the next new moon. Silverwood will fall easily with the help we have on the inside,” Malik finishes with a victorious growl.
“You’ve moved up your timeline,” I say slowly, looking at my clawed fingers, trying to keep myself calm. If Malik attacks Silverwood, I’ll need to get my hands on Serafina sooner rather than later. If they capture her, I risk them finding out about our past, and that would be a death sentence for me. Being half Demon is already a problem for the princes. If they found out about her, it would give them enough reason to eliminate me and pass Mammon”s magic back to Hell”s flame for a new bloodline to be chosen.
Malik grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the cold gray light. “Of course. Some of us are strong enough to complete our tasks before the deadline,” he taunts, and I grind my back molars together in an effort to remain calm, mentally planning his death. I’ll make sure to kill him first.
“And the Hounds?” Belphegor asks, bringing us back on topic as his gaze shifts to the Alpha class Hounds he has claimed as his own. Malik grimaces, losing some of his cockiness as he, too, looks at the Demonic monsters chained at the side of the room.
“The Hounds are proving more complicated than the lower-class Demons. Hounds born of the high-born seem to be able to reproduce with the ones we created, but when we use two lab created Hounds, not only do we lose the pup, but the mother as well. We are currently looking into a way to sire only male pups from our lab-created ones, but with the loss of Azreal and the late Councilman Covington, our research has slowed,” Malik admits with a growl, frustration leaking into his words.
“The Covingtons are a problem. The boy has hunted almost every Hound and lower-class Demon on his territory. They have captured Mannox, and he is currently rotting in a Fae cell,” Leviathan snarls, looking at me like that’s somehow my fault. “If the Covingtons were dealt with already, we would get him back!” I chuckle and cross one ankle over the other. I can’t help but be pleased about Nox’s capture. I met the man as a young boy in the warehouses. He was a horrible Demon, not that there are any good ones, but Nox was a particularly bad one. It brings me a great deal of joy to know the High Demon is imprisoned.
“Nox was captured long before I was given the assignment to kill the Covingtons. It was his foolish pride that landed him where he is. Thinking he could fight against a Reaper with Demonic magic and an Angel by himself,” I scoff at the very thought. Gabriel and his merry band of Fae idiots have shown just how dangerous they can be. Two Royal Demons are dead and because of him, Nox stood no chance. “Besides,” I point out, looking around the group of Royal Demons. “Aren’t you using Nox’s Fae child to gain access to the students at Silverwood?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“We are,” Malik bites out, his glare firmly on me as I nod.
“It would seem that Nox is helping out the Demonic realm right where he is. Besides, the Covingtons won’t be a problem much longer. I have several attacks planned and recently found a way to make the councilman come to us. He’s far too protected on Fae territory. That’s why he’s still alive. But he will be here soon,” I inform them and grin, thinking of how I plan to kill the man. “I guarantee it.”
“You better keep to your word, or you will pay the price with your life,” Lucifer rasps, speaking up for the first time as he places a black-clawed hand on his throne and leans forward. His weathered face holds a unique look to it, not Demonic in nature like the rest of them. He looks more similar to me, his features almost human in nature, yet the dark magic circling around him darkens what once was a normal-looking face.
“I will,” I promise, nodding to him as the rest of the princes begin to talk amongst themselves, obviously done with the meeting. I stand, not interested in talking with the old bastards, and start to walk away, needing to get out of this cursed room just as Leviathan wraps his grimy hand around my wrist, pulling me to a stop.
I tense up, my hand moving to the side, red magic swirling around my clawed fingertips just as my scythe forms in my palm. The Demon Prince leans down, hatred clear on his face. “You screw this up, and it will be me who takes that pretty Fae head off your shoulders,” he snarls, his hot, rancid breath filling the air around me and making my stomach twist in disgust.
Silence falls over the room, no one making a move to come to my aid, and I suppress the need to reach out and attempt to rip their souls from their bodies. I still don”t know if it would work. They are, after all, Demonic Princes. A normal Reaper wouldn’t possess enough magic to kill a Royal Demon by himself. But I’m not just a Reaper.
Weighing my options, I choose not to destroy all my hard work in a fit of rage despite how I long to do just that. Instead, I yank my hand away from him, arcing my scythe behind me and pressing the blade to his neck, watching with barley controlled glee as the Prince’s eyes double in size. He hadn’t seen my blade until it was already at his throat, and I know it pisses him off that I’ve made such a deadly move in front of the others. I look up at him, hating my shorter half-Fae stature.
“It must kill you to know I’m your equal. That you’ll have to work side-by-side with me in order to keep our territory from crumbling,” I whisper, leaning closer to him, letting my blade press harder into the green skin of his neck. I grin when I see a drop of black blood bead on my scythe. “You can try to kill me, but remember this,” I add as the other Demon Princes all take a step forward, angry eyes on us as I threaten one of their own. “A normal Reaper cannot kill...” I pause for effect. “Or injure a Demon with their scythe.” Stepping back, I bring my scythe down in a fast motion, flicking Leviathan’s blood at his feet.
“Threaten me again, and I will take it as a challenge. One I am more than willing to bring to the fighting rings,” I say calmly, looking away from Leviathan and meeting each and every one of the other’s eyes before turning on my heel and walking from the throne room. It’s time to start putting my plans into motion. I have a Reaper to kill and a Demonic territory to bring to its knees.