Chapter 23
I rouse to a burning sensation, like I’ve placed my hand on the stove, only the fire seems to be everywhere. I try to cry out, but I feel like I’m choking on air. Even prying my eyes open proves impossible, my eyelids are far too heavy. All the while, someone is making horrid moaning noises.
“… Est amage … The endearment seems to come from a long way off. “… are safe … please … return … me…”
“…happened to her?”
More murmuring. Then—
Little witch.
The voice is impossibly close, whispering inside me, right alongside the pain.
I groan, then whimper.
“Hurts…” someone croaks. I realize a moment too late that the voice is mine. As are the pained sounds.
“I know, love.” I feel the press of a warm hand against my cheek. “Can you open those beautiful eyes for me?”
I don’t think I can, but I try anyway. Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, I force my eyelids up, though I can’t see anything beyond the large, vague shape looming over me.
“There you are,” Memnon says oh so softy. He’s using that coaxing tone on me, the one he saves for his most skittish horses. “There is demon venom in you.”
Demon venom? Is that a thing?
“It is.”
Vaguely I remember the dead bodies that had dark magic coating them. Had that been from a demon bite?
What, exactly, does demon venom do? Poison you? Steal your soul?
“You’re not going to ever find out because I’m going to heal you,” Memnon reassures me with the confidence of a man who feels victory is assured.
A fresh wave of pain rolls through me, darkening my vision. A scream rips free from my swollen vocal cords.
“Feel no pain.” The heavy notes of Memnon’s voice fall on me, and they blunt the sharp edge of the burning sensation coursing through me.
I take a shaky drag of air as my vision clears.
And then Memnon’s spell disintegrates altogether.
I scream as the pain slams fully back into me. I feel every sharp laceration of the demon toxin as it sears my veins.
“Stop!” I beg, staring up at the dark sky. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. “Please make it stop.”
“Selene.” Memnon’s voice is sharp like a knife. “Look at me.”
My eyes roll everywhere but to him.
“Look at me,” he says again in Sarmatian, and this time the king in him rides his voice.
My eyes snap to his face.
“Est amage, take my hand,” he instructs.
A small whimper escapes me, but I grip his hand.
“Good woman. Now, brace yourself.”
That’s all the warning he gives me.
He begins incanting in Mochica, and immediately fresh agony erupts across my body. It feels as though it’s wormed its way into every nerve ending, that it’s shredding through sinew and bone.
Then Memnon’s magic is there, inside me, shoving something out. My body is drenched in fluid—sweat, blood, poison, I cannot say.
At some point, the intensity of the agony draws back, just a bit—then a bit more, like dawn breaking on the horizon.
I find that I am lying in a pool of my own sweat, my hair plastered to my face. Enough awareness bleeds into me to sense that there are several presences around me, including one that’s pressed tightly to my side, but I’m only paying attention to the one right above me.
I stare into Memnon’s eyes, his jaw locked tight, a muscle in his cheek feathering as he grips my hand fiercely.
“Memnon,” I say, weary and relieved.
It’s like my saying his name is the permission he’s been waiting for. Memnon leans down and kisses me, his lips dragging against mine. I swear I can taste the metallic tang of his fear.
Gods, Selene. He lets out a shuddering breath. I don’t scare easily, but you had me afraid. He takes our clasped hands and presses mine against his chest. Beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, I can feel the gallop of his heart.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen him frightened on my behalf, but this time in particular looks like it’s shaken him.
That’s because it is much easier to heal a wound than it is to retrieve a stolen soul, Memnon says.
So the demon’s poison would’ve claimed my soul, just like Fyvyrius hinted at earlier. Goddess above.
I swallow, then push myself up into sitting position.
It’s then that I realize the presence next to me is Nero, who must’ve made his way to me once he sensed I was in trouble, and who has now curled himself up at my side.
I rest a tired hand on his fur, letting the big cat give my arm a gentle lick.
My eyes lift, and I see that sitting some distance away is Kane. He’s still in his lupine form, and now the wolf watches the group of us with unblinking eyes.
I reach out with a hand.
Kane’s wolf stares at me and my proffered hand for a long moment. Then he gets up and retreats into the darkness of the woods, where the night swallows him up.
“Thank you!” I call out after him, my voice hoarse and weak.
I won’t pretend like Kane and I haven’t had our differences, but tonight when the need to give into his animal form and all the accompanying instincts were at their highest, he stayed by my side until he was sure I was okay. I won’t forget that.
Memnon helps me to my feet. I feel like I’ve been run through with a sword, then driven over by a semi.
I want a bath, then I want to bury myself in fluffy blankets.
“Then you shall have it.”
He lifts me into his arms, and this time, I don’t protest at the manhandling. I’m not sure my legs would keep me upright at the moment anyway.
The two of us are quiet as Memnon weaves through the Everwoods, Nero trailing us like a shadow.
Finally, the sorcerer breaks the silence. “It has been two thousand years, but I am making the same mistakes,” he confesses softly.
I glance up at him.
“This empire I have taken over is my new Rome. I am culling enemies left and right, but they are fighting back, and they are attacking the one thing I cannot afford to lose—you.” His voice breaks on that final word.
The hairs along my arms rise. I hadn’t seen the similarities to our past life and Memnon’s long ago fight against Rome, but now that he’s pointed it out, there are very obvious parallels.
I place a hand on his cheek, a response on the tip of my tongue, when screams start up in the distance.
What in the bloody hellfire is going on now?
Memnon looks to the distance before glancing back down at me, a brow arched.
We could just leave it be, he says across our bond.
You, leaving something alone? I guffaw. That will be the day.
More screams join in, until there is an awful chorus of them.
The two of us exchange another look, and then I’m slipping from Memnon’s arms and dashing through the woods, Nero and Memnon on my heels.
It’s a shock that my legs are even keeping me upright. I still feel like absolute shit, and two dozen or so paces in I pause to retch.
As soon as I bend over, Memnon is right there with me, his hands pulling my hair back from my face.
“Stay here and recover,” he says, his low voice drawing out goose bumps. “I will handle whatever’s happening.”
I give my head a shake, catching my breath, while those haunting screams still fill the night air. They’re coming from somewhere in the Everwoods.
Considering the sorts of action this forest has seen tonight, it likely has something to do with us.
“I’m coming with you,” I insist, pushing away from the tree.
Light flickers in his eyes, the only warning that his power is close to consuming him. It’s depressing that I’m actually surprised he’s managed to control it as well as he has this evening.
I can sense Memnon wants to leave me here where I’m out of harm’s way, and I’m expecting some spell to keep me in place when his hand moves to my midsection.
“Settle your stomach. Remove your discomfort,” he incants.
The relief is instant.
“You’re not going to try to stop me?”
“And risk your wrath later?” he says, his eyes still flickering. He tilts his head back and forth like he’s weighing the options. “Actually, now that I think about it…”
I laugh weakly, and giving him a playful shove, I straighten back up, and then I begin running again.
As Memnon, Nero, and I close in on the shrieks, I realize they’re coming from Slain Maiden’s Meadow.
Up ahead, between the dark boughs of the soaring evergreens, I can see flickering torchlight and the soft glow of many floating witch orbs.
Oh Goddess.
There was supposed to be a celebration here in honor of the full moon, one I’d even considered going to earlier this evening.
I break through the tree line and abruptly stop, swallowing my scream as Memnon and Nero come to my side.
Whatever celebration was occurring here, it isn’t any longer. Instead, the field’s moniker is more appropriate than ever because scattered all across Slain Maiden’s Meadow are dead witches.