Chapter 18
brUSH WITH DEATH
THE MINUTES TURNED INTO HOURS AS MURMUR TALKED through his interpretations of The Book of Gamigin and Suyin asked questions. He couldn’t lie—he enjoyed her interest in his studies.
“Does this mean I have a demon form like you?” she asked as they read through the section where Gamigin theorized about Cambion traits.
He hadn’t been able to confirm all of his hypotheses because he’d died before his daughter had grown, but from what Murmur had seen, his assumptions were mostly correct.
“Nephilim have an altered form that appears during moments of high emotion and stress,” he replied, “so it would stand to reason that you’d have something similar.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if I sprouted horns every time I got pissed off.”
“The mind is powerful. The false belief of needing food to survive caused you to feel more weakness than you should have. I wouldn’t be surprised if not knowing you had an altered form and believing you were fully human was enough to keep it repressed.
It’s likely that if you’d felt the change coming, you would’ve fought it back unconsciously. ”
Her eyes were wide. “So how do I get it to come out? How do you shift?”
“It’s different for everyone. Some demons find it hard to maintain their human form, while others find it as easy as their demon form.
When I want to shift, I simply visualize it happening, and it does.
Once I’m shifted, I can stay in that form for as long as I choose.
It requires energy to shift forms, but not to hold them. ”
“I can’t exactly visualize shifting into a demon form that may or may not exist.”
“I suspect it will come naturally in a moment of high emotion. Now that you’re aware of it, you’ll feel the instinct, and if you choose to give into it, you’ll shift. Each time will get easier after that.”
“Huh.” She looked back down at the book. “I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
She turned the page, only to uncover a spread of sketches that Murmur didn’t particularly want to dwell upon. He started to flip to the next page, but of course, Suyin was too quick for that.
“Wait.” She reached over him, pulled the book off his lap and into her own, and peered at the messy sketches. “What are these drawings about?”
Murmur tilted his head and studied her. She was acting differently tonight. She didn’t shy away from touching him, yet a while ago, when she’d reached over to point at something on the page and their hands brushed, she’d jumped like he’d burned her.
Even stranger was how he continued to react to her himself.
He’d been practicing necromancy for millennia, but he still remembered a time before his body had started to change. Extended and frequent practice of black magic always left a mark on the practitioner, and necromancy was the blackest magic there was.
Long ago, his features had been fuller, the sclerae of his eyes had been white instead of red, and his skin, though still gray, had been warm to the touch. His body had begun to die over the years, until he’d finally sacrificed the last of its vitality.
Now, though his heart beat in his chest, the blood it pumped was lifeless. His skin was cold, his cheeks hollow. He’d become as dead as the corpses he could reanimate, and he’d lost all appetites and desires for pleasure.
But last night, with Suyin trapped beneath him … he hadn’t felt dead. She had awoken some sleeping beast inside of him, and he’d started noticing things he wouldn’t have a few days ago.
His gaze would catch on her small hands when she swept her long hair off her neck, and he’d find himself staring at her slender throat, imagining sinking his fangs into it.
What would Cambion blood taste like? If its flavor in any way reflected the potency of its magical properties, it would be a delicacy indeed.
He leaned in slightly and inhaled, just to see if he could detect a hint of the taste.
She glanced up, and her eyes flared slightly when she saw his proximity.
He shifted backward. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of her knowing the direction of his thoughts.
This was a new experience for him after so many centuries, and he wasn’t yet able to control his reactions as he normally could.
“Murmur?”
“Hm?”
“I just asked you what these sketches mean.”
He shook his head and forced his attention to the book. He saw the messy drawings of unnamed faces and remembered why he’d tried to turn the page.
“It’s nothing of concern.”
He reached over and tried once more, but she flattened her palm on it. “Why? These drawings are incredible. I want to know what they are.”
“They’re unrelated to the subject matter.”
“Then why’d you put them in the book?”
He shot her a glare. He didn’t want to discuss this, but Suyin had already proven to be annoyingly tenacious when she wanted something. The fastest way to get past this was to just tell her.
“When I have visions, I sometimes write or draw things. I’m not aware of what I’m doing at the time, and I can’t control it. Sometimes it strikes in the middle of working or writing, which was the case here. It has nothing to do with the subject of this book.”
She frowned at him. “Does it happen a lot?”
“Somewhat.”
“That sounds like it sucks.”
He nodded. An understatement.
She looked down at the page. “Do you know what these drawings mean?”
“Not these ones, no.”
“These are incredible though. The faces are so detailed. Aren’t you curious about who they are?”
“No. My visions aren’t always useful to me. Many I simply ignore. Sometimes I see the fates of people I don’t know or care about and would never make an effort to meet even if I could. It’s a waste of time, really.”
She snorted. “Only you would say that having visions of the future is a waste of time.”
“It crowds my already overfilled head with images I can’t place.” Leaning back against the sofa, he looked toward the fire. Before he could think too much about it, he found himself speaking his mind.
“Sometimes I don’t know if I’m remembering my own memories or recalling old visions that had nothing to do with me.
Sometimes I can’t tell if the voices in my head are my bound souls crying for mercy or from visions I have yet to experience or have forgotten.
Sometimes when I try to sleep, the voices get louder and louder until all I hear is a cacophony of screaming … ”
He was suddenly aware of Suyin’s stare. When he glanced at her, he found her eyes were soft. Suyin with soft eyes seemed paradoxical.
He scowled. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She shook her head and the expression vanished. “Murmur, that’s messed up.”
“I never claimed to be sane. Now, enough about me. Turn the page or I’ll send you back to your room.”
She glared at him. “I am not a child.”
“Then don’t act like one.”
Her scowl deepened. And for some reason, the sight lessened his own discomfort, and he felt his good humor returning.
“You’re an asshole,” she said when he started to smile.
“We’ve been over this. Any new insults?”
“Dickhead. Prick. Bastard.”
He faked a yawn. “Boring.”
She punched him in the arm. He might have been mad if her tiny fist had managed to wound him, but as it was, he barely felt it. He laughed instead.
And then he pointed at the book. “Focus, witchling. Turn the page.”
Her brows shot up. “Witchling?”
He shot her a smug look. “You’re a witch, and you’re … little. Thus, witchling. Now, focus.”
“If you call me that, I’m going to call you Murmy.”
The smile dropped off his face like it had never been. “Call me that, and I’ll stuff a gag in your throat and chain you up so deep in my dungeons, you’ll never see the light of day again.”
They glared at each other for a moment.
And then she barked a laugh. “You almost had me for a second. I was quaking in my boots.” She cocked a brow. “And then I remembered that you need me, and you would never do anything to jeopardize my precious blood for your precious spell.”
He leaned in. “You’re pushing your luck, witchling.”
“Relax, Murmy.” Her smile was full of challenge. “We’re just having fun.”
She thought she could best him? She thought she could meet him eye to eye?
You’ve gone soft, his inner voice mocked. Allowing yourself to be challenged by a little hybrid? Shameful. Keep this up and next thing you know, you’ll be traipsing around in your human form, trying to fit in on Earth with the weaklings.
He hated when his own mind ridiculed him, but perhaps it was right this time. Perhaps he ought to remind Suyin who was really in charge here.
He didn’t react to her taunt. He didn’t so much as twitch. He just continued to stare at her. Wariness gradually crept into her gaze as she finally realized she may have pushed him too far.
Then he called his souls to rise. He allowed their faces to take shape—their haunting, screaming faces, lit by an unearthly purple glow.
The mouths that constantly begged for salvation in his mind were open, revealing blackened teeth and decayed gums. Rotted flesh hung limply off their cheekbones, their eyes gaping, empty sockets.
Suyin’s dark eyes darted around all the deathly faces closing in on her. Her fingers clenched the book in her lap so tightly, her knuckles whitened.
And Murmur felt … vaguely nauseated. Not triumphant.
The first time he’d done this to her, he’d wanted her to be terrified, and he’d enjoyed his victory. This time, however, it wasn’t the same.
He didn’t like the fear on her face. He didn’t like how the good-natured defiance had bled from her expression. He didn’t like how whatever camaraderie they’d had moments ago had shattered.
What is happening to me?
You’re weak, the voice hissed. And you’re getting weaker.
Disgusted at himself, he released the souls, and they disappeared, leaving nothing but faint, ghostly trails.