Chapter 7
SEVEN
Z
D avia’s face pinched as if she’d just eaten something sour. She tapped her fingernails agitatedly against the table.
All of us had reconvened the following morning in the same tent as before. B, Davia, and HH sat on one side next to a man they introduced as Turner. Turner was, apparently, a prominent member of the human resistance and a skilled military strategist.
My mates and I, accompanied by Mali and Phineas, sat on the opposite side of the table.
There was a clear divide between humans and nightmares, and I wasn’t sure any amount of negotiation would breach it.
“If we have any hope of stopping Aaliyah, we need an army,” Turner insisted.
He was a tall and broad human with light-blond hair—so light it almost resembled freshly fallen snow—and a wicked scar bisecting his right cheek. Intelligent green eyes peered out of a face weathered with time.
B pinched the bridge of his nose. “And how do you propose we do that? We have people willing to fight, but less than fifty percent of them have been trained.”
“Maybe we won’t win with skill but with numbers.” Turner’s expression turned contemplative.
He scratched absently at the scar on his cheek. I noticed he did that often, almost as if it was a nervous tic of his.
I didn’t like Turner.
I saw the way he regarded my mates, particularly Killian and Ryland. Ryland mostly kept himself hidden by shadows, but the few times he made an appearance, the human couldn’t help but stare at the scars distorting Ryland’s darkly handsome face. And he almost looked…satisfied. Pleased, even, like he thought Ryland got exactly what he deserved.
It infuriated me.
And with Killian, Turner didn’t even bother to hide his disgust.
All of my mates were regarded with distrust and trepidation. I couldn’t even blame the humans. They had been subjected and ridiculed for years—centuries, if I really thought about it.
Change, however, was coming, and everyone could taste it. It made the humans brazen, the nightmares angry, and the rulers fearful.
I couldn’t help but scoff at my inner thoughts.
Humans.
As if I wasn’t one.
Though… Technically, I wasn’t a human, was I? I was something other.
A reincarnated angel-slash-demon.
The revelation sat like a lead weight in my stomach.
“Nightmares won’t fight for the humans,” Devlin was saying in his curt, no-nonsense voice. “Some of them will, but the majority are set in their ways. They may not actively hate humans, but they won’t fight for them.”
“Then we need more humans,” Turner said simply, as if the solution to this issue was glaringly obvious.
“What are you saying, Turner?” Davia leaned forward slightly. “Just spit it out, you overgrown man child.”
I liked Davia.
“The detention camps.” A grin split Turner’s face, tugging at the scar.
That smile… It made him look wicked. Nightmarish.
A hush fell over the table. B’s face drained of color, and Davia appeared thoughtful.
Everyone knew that the majority of humans in the shifter kingdom were put into camps years ago, after rebels killed the king’s mate. I’d never been inside one myself, but I’d heard the horror stories.
All of us had.
Lupe looked as if he was going to be sick, especially when Turner flicked his keen gaze in the bear shifter’s direction.
“Could you get us into the camps?” he demanded.
“I…” Lupe struggled to find words.
My sweet mate had nothing to do with his father’s activities, despite being the crowned prince. I didn’t think he even knew the extent of his father’s depravities until recently. Most of the shifters guarding the camps were loyal to the imprisoned shifter king and him alone.
They would kill Lupe on sight.
But Lupe didn’t say that out loud.
Instead, fierce determination crossed his face, and he nodded once, a stiff jerk of his chin. “I can try.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Bash gripped my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze—an eloquent “shut the fuck up.”
I narrowed my eyes at the mage, but he simply cocked an arrogant eyebrow at me before releasing me and refocusing on the table once more.
Cocky asshole.
He shifted, folding his arms over his chest, and I caught a glimpse of his muscular forearms.
Cocky, sexy asshole.
“At least you’re good for something,” Turner muttered under his breath, and it was official.
I was gonna stab him. In the eye. Or the cock. Or the ass. Maybe the ear canal…
“So we send a team to liberate the humans…” B ran a hand through his rapidly graying hair. I swore in the span of hours, it had turned whiter than before. “What about the Trials of Lilith?”
An atomic bomb replaced the stone in my stomach. I felt suddenly sick and lightheaded, my thoughts swirling like a tornado, unable to settle.
“How do these trials work exactly?” Dair placed his elbows on the table and frowned.
“It hasn’t been done in centuries, if at all. No one knows for sure.” Davia’s gaze flicked to the book sitting in front of Lupe, the pages brittle and yellow with age. “It appears as if we say a spell or incantation or something, and then the trials will begin.”
“Right away?” Bash’s eyebrows drew together.
Davia shrugged. “What part of hasn’t been done in centuries do you not understand?”
“Who’s to say it’ll even work?” Ryland’s voice was thick with disdain as one shadowy finger lifted to caress the cover of the book.
A shudder reverberated through him as if he could feel the raw, unencumbered power emanating from the pages.
“It might not,” B agreed readily. “But does it hurt to try? If you guys receive Lilith’s backing, then you’ll be legitimized in the eyes of the other nightmares. Not only that, but the kingdoms’ forces will be more willing to fight with us against Aaliyah.”
“Humans and nightmares fighting side by side.” Turner scoffed, as if the sheer prospect was utterly ridiculous.
Very purposefully, I placed my hands over Bash’s on the table. My mage’s lips quirked upwards into an almost taunting smirk, and Turner paled.
“Stranger things have happened,” I quipped.
“So are we doing this?” Lupe asked, volleying his gaze from side to side so he could see all of our faces. “Are we going to ask Lilith to bless us?”
I wanted to say no, but I knew it was my own fear holding me back. Having Lilith’s blessing—whatever that meant—would help us tremendously. Nightmares would have no choice but to follow my mates’ rule.
And we needed all the help we could get if we had any chance of defeating Aaliyah.
Dair’s jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly, his blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
The shadows coalescing around Ryland flickered out of existence as he silently agreed to give it a try, his chin dipping once.
Devlin and Bash both verbally gave their consent, and Jax blew out an agitated breath but nodded.
Only Killian remained silent, his gaze lowered to the tabletop. His tail, snaking through the back of the chair, thumped against the floor.
“Kill?” Lupe asked. “We’re only doing this if we all agree.”
“It’s our only option!” Turner argued.
“Shut the fuck up,” Mali snapped.
“Agreed.” HH tapped his fingers against the table. “Shut the fuck up.”
Turner scowled but snapped his mouth shut, audibly grinding his molars.
“Who knows what Lilith will make us do?” Killian’s voice was soft, rife with fear. “Especially to?—”
“I know,” I interrupted, though not unkindly.
Killian’s worry came out of a place of love, and I couldn’t fault him for that. He was terrified of what would happen to me. In the memories Aaliyah gifted me, my mother was never the warm and fuzzy type of figure. She saw my birth as nothing more than a business transaction, a way to make peace between the demons and angels.
I swallowed around the razor blade in my throat.
“It’ll be okay, Kill.” I wanted to touch him, reassure him, but he was too far away. “Everyone will be okay.”
Killian seemed to hesitate, his green eyes dark with tension, before he turned to Lupe and nodded.
Lupe blew out a breath and slowly flipped open the book. Dust scattered in all directions as the cover hit the table with a deafening bang.
“Then let’s get this over with.”