Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
Kallie whips around to face me, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says on a breath.
I should’ve known she’d end up here. She never could help herself.
Such a curious, prodding mind. My eyes don’t waver from hers, but there’s a slight tension in her shoulders, keeping her guard up by just a fraction, never fully letting herself relax.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Lucky guess.” My head tilts to the side, analyzing every dip and curve of her body and noting the dagger resting in the sheath around her thigh. Her body still doesn’t relax underneath my predatory gaze. In fact, she looks like she’s winding up even tighter.
Her heart thrums like a war drum, beating faster with each passing second.
She’s scared—I don’t need to get into her head to know that—but I don’t think it’s me scaring her.
No, I think it has everything to do with the secrets I’ve been keeping and whatever truths she’s found inside the journal she’s clutching like a lifeline.
“I see you’ve stumbled upon my research.
” My grin widens instinctively as the notes of my voice cause the creature to fling itself against the bars.
Kallie’s neck stiffens, fighting against the urge to look toward the clatter.
But she’s smart and keeps her wide eyes trained on me.
Can she sense the shift? Feel the magnetic pull but know she shouldn’t follow it?
“Research is a bit of a stretch,” she quips. “I’d say it’s a log of all your sadistic torture sessions.” The flame on the wall casts shadows across her olive skin, flicking over it just enough to make out the hard set of her jaw.
My hand sprawls out over my chest, like I’ve been wounded.
“Sadistic? Torture? It pains me to think you would associate me with such words.” Sarcasm drips from my lips, and even in this low lighting, I can see her eyes roll.
I take a leisurely step forward, keeping a close eye on how her body shifts.
“You think I’m the one who tortured that creature? ”
She scoffs. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a fucking duck.”
I stop mid-stride, tilting my head to the side. “Neither of us are ducks.”
“You, owner of this home, have that”—she points at the creature in the cage, color returning to her fingers almost instantly after gripping the notebook so hard—“in your home, with this”—she shakes the pages vigorously—“with every word scribbled in your hand writing, and you’re saying that you’re not the one who tortured it? ”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Her walls are up, like a fortress of steel, but I can see the wheels turning, trying to make sense of it all. “I was trying to save it,” I admit. And by the puzzled look on her face, I know I’ve only confused her more.
“I’m not following.”
My feet carry me to the nearest side of the cage, thinking about all the time I’ve spent down here, trying to figure out a cure for the damned.
Then my eyes flick to her, remembering all the time she spent inside one.
For some reason, that image doesn’t bring me joy.
Instead, anger bubbles low in my stomach, trying to understand why I feel that way, which in turn only makes me angrier.
You don’t want to hurt her.
Yes, I do.
No, I don’t.
Yes, I— Frustration gnaws at my insides, and the heels of my palms slam into my eyes, trying to get some clarity.
“If you weren’t torturing it, then what is all this?” She shakes the pages roughly.
“It’s everything that I’ve been able to find out about the creature.”
“The Demicrogen,” she clarifies.
“Does that look like a normal Demicrogen to you?”
“No,” she mumbles under her breath.
“It wasn’t torture, Kalliope. I was trying to help the beast. But some things aren’t worth saving.” Her full name tastes like acid on my tongue, and I’m hoping she doesn’t catch the slip-up. But that was wishful thinking. Her head cants, eyebrows pulling together with caution.
She chooses not to comment, but she clearly continues to turn it over in her head. “So what you’re saying is this Demicrogen is somehow different from the others I’ve incinerated?”
“It wasn’t always…” I trail off, my fingers dancing over a bar at a time.
“But like I said, some things aren’t worth saving.
” My magic brushes over the lock, causing the enchantment to wash away, and the sound of the latch breaking echoes over the room.
The Demicrogen snarls with bared teeth, its soulless orbs staring straight at me.
It waits the length of one of Kallie’s heartbeats, which is a little longer than usual—I’m pretty sure her heart stopped for a moment.
The weight of the door causes it to swing open on its own, and the Demicrogen seizes its opportunity, rushing toward its freedom on all fours.
But it won’t get very far. Kallie immediately rushes to action, throwing the notebook to the side and calling the flames to her palms—not wanting to risk torching what other answers are in the pages.
“What are you doing?” she exclaims. I take a step back—a few, actually—and watch as the creature busts through the newly found opening.
Saliva flies through its clenched teeth, its skeleton hunched over, ready to attack.
The Demicrogen keeps its attention locked on me, its tongue snaking out, licking its lips like I’m its next meal.
“Are you insane?” Kallie blanches, which in turn draws the creature’s attention toward her.
“Show me what you got, Princess. Put this poor creature out of its misery.” The nickname slips out like second nature, rolling off my tongue with ease.
Her face scrunches with a mixture of annoyance and frustration, but I recognize when the determination settles in, and I know I have a front-row seat to a very entertaining show.
My head threatens to explode once she sends the first fireball toward the Demicrogen, but I bare my molars down, knowing the beast can sense weakness.
The Demicrogen too.
It jumps on the side of the cage, talons wrapping around the bars, trying to get a better vantage point.
It wails out, like a battle cry, and launches into the air.
She doesn’t hesitate and pushes a wave of flames its way.
Had it been any normal Demicrogen, it would’ve disintegrated, mere dust particles in the air.
But the journal doesn’t just hold answers, it contains all the unanswered questions I have as well.
I watch intently, following each of their movements with precision, not wanting to miss a beat. The cold air makes the Demicrogen more sluggish than normal, which doesn’t necessarily make this a fair fight.
“Are you just going to stand there? This thing won’t die!” Kallie yells out, nearly missing the swipe from the creature.
“Figure it out,” I say all too calmly. In truth, my head is raging, thumping against the sides of my skull like something is trying to rip its way out.
“There’s no figuring anything out. This thing should’ve been dead the moment my flame touched it.” That’s the point. It should’ve been dead. So why is it still breathing?
“New rule: no more fire. Clearly it’s not working.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she deadpans.
“You have other powers at your disposal. Or would you prefer me to take away the use of magic altogether?” All I get is a grunt in response.
She front rolls out of the way just in time, knocking over a small table before popping back up on her feet.
Greenery drops from the ceiling with force, sheet rock tumbling down after it.
Vines wrap around the Demicrogen’s arms, but despite the magic she’s clearly pouring into them, it does nothing except slow it down for a moment.
“This is annoying.”
“Admitting defeat already? I’ve never known you to give up so easily.”
Agitation paints her face, anger, frustration, all muddling together until I finally see it happen. Just like before. The switch flips, and I know, without a doubt, the Demicrogen will be dead in just a few short minutes.
The vines recede, nothing commanding their presence anymore. Shadows extend off her, the tips curling to brush against her cheek as if they’d missed her. Kallie’s eyes lock on the Demicrogen, like she’s seeing it through a new set of eyes.
What I would do to be in her head right now.
My vision begins to blur, and I shake my head, trying to get my eyes to refocus as the pain becomes almost unbearable.
Kallie’s eyes flick over to me before training them back on her opponent.
Either she didn’t notice, or she did and doesn’t care.
Black slithers through her veins, popping out against her olive skin, and I watch in amazement as she settles into the new shell.
Those perfect emeralds, the ones that change colors each time she uses a different part of her power, usually a stunning shade of orange, go completely void, matching with the same blankness as the creature she’s fighting.
As if someone has taken over her body, the shadows race forward, hitting the Demicrogen square in the chest, sending it flying into the bars of the enclosure. She saunters over like she has all the time in the world, her hand absentmindedly reaching for the dagger I’d forgotten was there.
She rips it out with force, blasting the beast with shadow after shadow to keep it confined to the bars. I pinch the bridge of my nose as the pain becomes too much to bear, bracing myself against the closest wall to keep upright.
“You doing alright over there?” Kallie’s voice booms without any effort, sounding deeper, more foreign than it had a minute ago. And by the slight upward tip of her lips, she knows I noticed.
“Never better,” I manage, trying to stay upright.
The shadows she wields hold the creature in place.
It continues snapping its jaw at her then at the hand she so bravely wraps around its throat.
She holds the hilt of the dagger with an iron grip, smiling down at the Demicrogen like she enjoys the pain she’s inflicting.
I wouldn’t be shocked in the least if she was.
She leans in as close as she can, whispering something that I can’t focus closely enough on to hear, before plunging the blade into its chest.
There’s something so raw about the image. The way her magic pulses from her, like it’s been contained for too long, and she needs to let it feast.
The death wasn’t as brutal as I predicted, nor was it as dramatic as I’d hoped.
The creature doesn’t make a peep as its fleeing life comes to an end.
She rips the dagger out in a single pull, black blood spraying from the wound and dripping off the blade.
Kallie wipes the dagger clean on her pant leg before shoving it back into the sheath.
When her eyes meet mine, she tilts her head with confusion.
“You’re not yourself,” she states. Glad to know she can still state the obvious.
“I’m not feeling the best.”
“You don’t look the best.” Despite the mind-altering headache, I laugh then press the heel of my palm into my temple at the increase in pressure.
I shake it off—or try to—pushing through the agony as I walk over to where she stands.
I know I should be examining the creature—or that dagger she somehow obtained.
But instead, I find myself staring into her eyes, watching them slowly fade from onyx and into the comforting shade of jade.
This is the closest we’ve been without trying to kill each other in…
I don’t know how long. And I can feel that part of me, the one that’s fighting for the upper hand, pushing harder, and it almost brings me to my knees.
Before I can say anything, her brows pull together with worry, and she rests a hand against my arm. “Should we get you to a healer?” Her question is full of sincerity.
But she doesn’t know a healer can’t help me—fix me.
My mind goes completely void of thought, any and all rationality flying right out the window.
It’s intoxicating, the way the blood splatter rests across her flesh, dotting her skin with onyx.
A carnal urge so strong awakens inside me.
I have no choice but to succumb to it and let it consume me completely. “Fuck it.”