Chapter 26 Prince Sloth
TWENTY-SIX
Prince Sloth
THE LAST SEVERAL hours solidified the fact that I did not care for the sea.
After I slayed the monster, the Liber Noctem never materialized. But I felt its power all around me, taunting, infuriating. Then it vanished as if I’d imagined it.
And if I never suffered through another pirate encounter, I would finally allow my brother Gluttony to throw one of his famous feasts at my House of Sin to celebrate.
I’d even make a concession to not sneak a book to the affair and to participate in their antics. Menu planning seemed far less loathsome now.
I squeezed the excess water from my tunic and took in my surroundings.
This had to be the illustrious Isle of the Damned Kensington had told me about, though he hadn’t mentioned any inhabitants.
Other than the diminutive vampires.
But at first glance, the island didn’t seem entirely abandoned.
On a jagged cliff a few miles from where I’d washed ashore, a crumbling lighthouse sent out rhythmic flashes that cut through the gathering dusk.
I watched it for several minutes, searching for any movement or clue about who might be running the old building. Or to see if I spotted Lore there.
No shadows flickered past the windows.
It appeared to be operating of its own accord.
I scanned the shoreline but didn’t notice any footprints or signs that Lore had come this way. I moved purposefully across the rocky beach, each step crunching against the pebbles, my attention fixed on the beacon of light ahead.
I ignored the discomfort of my sodden clothes and the gash in my side.
The damned sea monster hadn’t gone peacefully to its grave, and I wasn’t healing properly. Soon I’d be no better off than a mortal.
I ascended a modest incline where a sandy dirt trail bisected a field of tall, billowing grass and halted to assess potential risks.
Conceivably, something could be concealed within the grass, poised to ambush me as I traveled deeper through the field.
I suspected the vampire-like creatures weren’t the only things I’d like to avoid here. I moved as silently as my waterlogged boots allowed, attuned to any faint sounds that didn’t belong to the natural landscape.
I didn’t feel the telltale pressure of any hungry gazes on me but suspected the vampires wouldn’t be too far.
If no other pirates had made it here, I would present an appealing target.
Unless they’d gotten to Lore first.
A quiet, simmering rage spurred me onward. The emotion was becoming familiar the longer I stayed in this nightmare realm, though still unwelcome.
I advanced along the dirt path, noting subtle rustling in the grass that might be the movements of something more nefarious than the breeze.
I tugged my dagger from its sheath and remained alert.
My focus shifted from one side of the hilly fields to the other.
I still didn’t see anything that indicated Lore had passed through, no footprints or broken stems of grass.
Given the size of the island, it stood to reason she’d swum to shore elsewhere, though a sliver of doubt crept in. It hadn’t looked like the island was terribly large, and I normally could pick up on some faint scents or emotions.
I’d search all night if I had to.
Each step made my drenched clothes cling uncomfortably to my skin and my mood darken. A sharp pain flared from the wound in my side, where blood still seeped through the torn fabric.
While I trekked across the island searching for Lore, my mind buzzed with unsettling thoughts of my weakening powers, and what the root cause was.
I kept coming back to the tattoo. I was starting to believe the ink from the design might actually be ink from the pages of the Liber Noctem.
The how or why was just out of reach, though.
It was a persistent worry I tried to shove aside.
I listened for the slightest sound of movement as the wind whispered through the grass, anything that might signal Lore was close.
There was nothing.
And yet… if I concentrated hard enough, I almost sensed something drawing my attention, a feeling I had no reference for. It wasn’t as potent as the lure of the dark book; it was lighter, but more intense.
I wasn’t walking aimlessly. I was following some subconscious drive.
I halted. Following an emotion I had no name for was a far cry from logical.
Indecision warred within me—I couldn’t discern if I was picking up on a connection to Lore or if the dark magic was tugging me astray.
I could either trust that feeling or choose logic.
I glanced up at the lighthouse again.
It was elevated high enough on the cliff that Lore should have seen it from wherever she’d landed on the island. Even if she hadn’t gotten there yet, it was the most promising place to start my search for her.
It was the only building I’d seen, and it would be the most appealing place for her to seek out and try to shelter in. Logically, it made sense, but this was the world of nightmares, and logic didn’t always reign supreme.
Shoving the strange feeling aside, I opted to go with my head.
Every few feet, I halted, lifting my face to the salt-laden wind, trying to catch a trace of Lore’s scent mingling with the sea air.
A coil of unease twisted tighter in my gut, a tangible knot of worry.
She was determined, resilient.
She had to have made it to the island.
I refused to consider the grim alternative…
The possibility that she might have drowned before she’d reached the safety of the shore, or worse, that she’d been attacked when she’d been most vulnerable.
The vampires with their insidious patience could have been lying in wait, ready to strike just as her strength waned from the desperate swim for survival.
I should have been there by her side.
I cursed the old gods for their cruel games. If they had let me bind the Liber Noctem for good, we wouldn’t be in this situation now. Lore would be living her life, far from this realm and any danger. Nyantha would remain forever powerless.
I continued my trek across the island, the dirt path slowly giving way to a more rugged landscape. I kept my senses open to both the Liber Noctem and Lore.
Since I was fairly certain it had done away with Xavier, or he’d been collateral damage in this realm, that meant it could be with anyone.
I would have preferred to find his mangled corpse, but if he’d been eaten by the giant sea monster, there was nothing to be done now.
I would need to let it go and focus on the remaining Trials and securing the dark book.
Some mysteries would always remain unsolved, no matter how much that drove my sin mad. I hoped however Xavier died it had been with the same lack of mercy I’d have given him.
Not only had he put my court in peril, but he’d also endangered the entire universe.
My boots still crunched over the rocky terrain and dense underbrush, but the lighthouse remained a flashing beacon in the distance.
I slowed my pace and cocked my head to the side. I’d been walking for at least an hour, and the lighthouse was no closer than it had been.
I pivoted in a small circle. I’d definitely made progress—I could no longer see the ocean, and the island’s vegetation had shifted from tall grass to lush forest.
And yet I could still see the lighthouse from my position, the same size and distance as it had been when I first started walking.
It made no sense. The perspective should have altered the closer I got.
I ignored the strangeness of it. I needed to search the island in its entirety anyway and didn’t care if there was an illusion in play.
A cool breeze whipped against my face, but Lore’s trail remained elusive as ever. I scanned the horizon, hoping for a clue, a broken twig, or a footprint in the dirt, but there was nothing. The sun dipped lower in the sky but hadn’t fully set.
My gaze narrowed on that anomaly. It had been dusk when I’d first arrived.
By my estimation, it should have been full dark already.
Perhaps this was why it was called the Isle of the Damned. The very land itself tormented wayward travelers until they lost themselves to madness.
A new sense of urgency had me doubling my pace.
I came upon an unexpected fork in the trail and halted.
One path would likely wind its way toward the lighthouse, the destination I’d already decided was the most promising.
But the other path pulled at something deep within me, urging me to follow it. I studied it, trying to decipher why that direction appealed. I wasn’t sure if I could trust any feeling, knowing it might be a manipulation from the dark book.
My gaze traced the narrow, winding trail that snaked into the dense woods.
Fallen leaves and twigs lay undisturbed, no indentations or broken branches to suggest recent travelers.
The other path was wide and well-trodden, still the obvious choice.
It should be simple, but I stood rooted to the spot, unable to make my feet move in either direction.
I shoved my hands through my hair and paced, conflicted.
Logic never failed me. But my instincts hadn’t either.
“Fuck it.”
I strode down the path on the right-hand side. Whether the book was manipulating my emotions or not, I’d comb every inch of the island to find Lore.
A few moments later I finally caught the faint scent I’d been searching for. Neroli and basil soap and some underlying sweetness that was entirely Lore.
Some of the tension in my body eased a fraction. How I’d innately sensed she’d come this way based on a feeling was troubling. But I’d known earlier; even on the ship, I’d felt entirely certain I could find her anywhere.
Maybe we’d forged some connection because of the Trials. Whatever the reason was, I was thankful.
My relief at her safety was short-lived when I picked up on another scent I didn’t recognize. Someone else had found her first.
Male, judging from the musky undertone.
The river of ice that shot through my veins nearly froze me in place.
I imagined with clinical detachment what I would do if I found her harmed. The dark scenarios played themselves out in my mind in quick, brutal succession.