44. Seven in a Sorry State
***
Someone in Haalbeg
****
"Tell me, worm," I touch the tip of my claw against the human's hand and a dark-green rot starts to permeate his skin. "What is that succubus planning?"
He screams out in agony, body thrashing, but Critin holds him immobile.
"I'll stop the rot from spreading if you tell me how much she knows. Promise!" I say nicely, momentarily stopping the progression of the decay up his arm.
"I––I––swear I don't know, Master!" He cries out.
"Pity! You wrote such an intriguing letter. I was so looking forward to...meeting you." I smile and he cowers.
"You love your little siblings, don't you? I'll spare them if you confess." I adopt a benevolent expression.
"No! Please no!" He throws himself at my feet begging for their life, as the rot reaches his shoulder.
I pause it from spreading once again. A temporary respite. "Then speak!" I hiss, kicking him in the stomach and his eyes widen in fear. Immediately he starts singing like a canary.
Once he's spilled his guts, I'm intrigued that the chit is actively seeking me. How interesting!
"Well. That was hardly of any use." I lean back in my throne and the mortal looks up, his expression a mix of devastation and fear. Quite entertaining.
"Please! Spare me, Master!" He begs while sobbing at my feet. I've had enough of this sniveling flea. The rot progresses again as he wails in pain and slowly, I gain control of his soul.
"Don't worry. You won't be alone for long. Your siblings...they'll join you. Soon." I offer kindly and he wails. I flick my hand and Critin snaps his neck, his shocked face frozen in death.
The quivering soul zips away without delay to the well.
The never ending hunger is momentarily appeased.
Archer
How the hell do we keep fucking up so badly?
They say the path to hell is paved with good intentions. And we jumped from literal to figurative hell. One of our own making.
One moment we're rejoicing. Thinking we're so clever, taking care of Aleiraah. Next we're in neck-deep shit.
Worrying over her fragile health was destroying us. We were even preparing ourselves to accept her with another male, so long as she fed adequately.
But she looked more like a wraith as days passed. Then came the idea of feeding her our seed. Everyone agreed because it was better than to watch her fade away.
Stubborn mate! My wolf sulks.
The consequences of our unilateral decision hit us only when her temper exploded. It was an 'oh shit' moment.
Ever since then, Aleiraah's silence has been sitting like a weight on my chest.
She has ignored us completely.
Ispahan and Zenith had been disappointed in Zahara. She got a verbal lashing for helping us. We apologized but were asked to leave the Nephilim kingdom by Ispahan.
When we came back to the mansion hot on her heels, she literally flung us away at the entrance and we ended up sprawled across the lawn.
Rozalin barred us from entering the mansion afterward. And we've been staying at the attendants’ quarters since.
It's been an adjustment, but our goal is to get her talking so we can apologize. Again. Her constant cold shoulder hurts. We're miserable without her. Shadows of our former selves.
Alistair tried to catch her in the garden one day near their grafted fruit bushes, and she didn't even spare him a glance. He hasn’t been keeping well. That fae bitch has tuned up her compulsion. So far he's fought back, but the strain is showing.
Every night, Silas sits under her window, helplessly listening to her quiet sobs. Her room is barred with spells to keep us all out.
Hunting for the missing nymph children isn't enough to keep our minds from worrying. I see her exhaustion. The way her shoulders tighten in fight-or-flight when we get close. We caused this. We broke our happy mate, and now we must make amends.
Will she ever forgive our mistakes?
Each of us have been slowly suffocating in our guilt.
Zien is a husk of his former self. We are fraying at the edges without her warmth to hold us together.
Deeming unworthy, she discarded us from her life.
Now we're just desperately hanging onto the edges of her world, for a sliver of chance that she'd let us in.
Even for a while, to just exist. We made her lose sight of the truth—that without her, we have no reason to go on.
Our helplessness deepened when she ditched us for an orgy.
Driven crazy, we followed her, forced to watch strangers approach her.
She refused them all, choosing instead to absorb the carnal energy thick in the air.
However when a particularly pushy group of satyrs wouldn't leave her alone, things heated up.
We got into their faces. The blow landed when one of them goaded, "If she's your mate, why is she unprotected, all by herself? Like she’s begging to be fucked. "
Silas and Zien turned feral, while the others joined the ensuing chaos. In the middle of the brawl, Aleiraah managed to slip away to everyone's chagrin.
I wanted to give her a piece of my mind for being careless with her safety. But knew better than to confront her. She'd probably set me on fire and roast pillow-mellows on the flames.
I don't know how much longer we'd be able to hold onto our sanity with Aleiraah shutting us out.
Aleiraah
Rozalin had wrapped me up in a giant hug, swinging me off my feet, upon my return.
What followed was an emotionally charged reunion between friends. She had been worried sick after the ‘Malakai’ incident. She plied the details from me with desserts and—meat quiches...no surprises there.
She had the staff move my things to a different wing in the mansion with lightning efficiency. The horrible seven followed me back but I refused them entry. Rozalin, acting like a mama bear, surprisingly kept them at bay.
For days, I’ve moped around the suite, swinging exhaustingly between self-pity and fury. Without Zenith and Ispahan breaking into an impromptu sexfest, I knew sustenance was going to become an issue.
Needing another source, I went to an orgy. But the seven followed me there too like black clouds. Eclipsing my fun. Did they not take my threat to murder them seriously? Am I losing my edge? Did I ever have an edge?
Depressed, I tried focusing on the orgy instead. Myriad essences flooded my body, dissolving my headache. Finally relaxed, I started enjoying the scene. A petite harpy pegging a massive minotaur, using her wings for additional 'thrust'.
What struck me as odd, was a nymph who sat all by herself in a corner looking slightly nervous. Ordinarily they’re 'tits-in-your-face' vivacious creatures. Yet she's dressed tastefully and quietly nursed a drink.
She seemed wary when our eyes met. But once I offered a small smile, she smiled back, raising her glass. She shook her head in refusal and continued to sit quietly when a fae and a grim approached her.
I was contemplating on saying hello, when a group of cocky satyrs blocked my view. "Hey there, doll-face! What're you doing sitting here all alone?"
"Need some good loving, pretty succubus?" Another one cackled, stroking his cock. Grimacing in disgust, I realized he smelled all wrong to my senses.
Suddenly the seven descended on them, and with a few slurs hell broke loose. I quietly slipped away, with no appetite for drama. All I wanted was a decent feeding which I got.
Later, I got a quiet lecture from Rozalin about my safety. But I fell into a fitful sleep halfway where I kept hearing a sibilant whisper calling my name.
When Zenith visited, I refused to meet him and had Rozalin send him away. But she informed me the husbands met with him anyway to discuss Nephilim border matters. Traitor!
Yesterday morning, a gilded mirror strangely appeared in my room. When Bastet materialized inside it—followed by Anput and Ammit—I practically squealed with joy at seeing my friends after so long.
We chatted for a while, and I brought them up to speed on everything. Anubis had been away on active soul-weighing duty. Bastet had flaunted her new nail paint collection and was appalled seeing my clear nails.
"We'll see what we can do about your regular dose of lust, Aleiraah. Don't worry." Anput had assured while Bastet had bobbed her furry head.
"Don't go to any trouble, I'll figure something out." I offered dejectedly. "I'm just glad I got to see you all again, even through a mirror. I miss you so much." I confessed on a sniffle and Bastet promised to let me squish her toe-beans soon.
Presently, pacing in my room, I'm thinking about my next steps to best that Goblin King, Vroc—even his name sounded like vomit—when there's a loud knock on my door.
"Who's it?" I ask, since Rozalin usually lets herself in after knocking.
"Aleiraah, please open the door. Zien is having a seizure!" Archie yells from the other side and without thinking I fling it open.
Urgently Archie grabs hold of my arms and looks wildly into my eyes. "You have to come and see him, Aleiraah. I don't know what's happening. He's seizing and Azael is not able to make it stop!"
Hearing the panic in his voice my own heart stutters at the thought of Zien having a seizure. It's unheard of in vampires.
"Take me to him!" Archie grabs my hand and I run alongside him toward the attendant-quarters.
I enter Zien's room to find him thrashing on the bed, eyes rolled back and skin a deathly gray. Alistair and Baz pin his limbs while Azael bends over him, channeling mana into his chest—but it does nothing to stop the violent seizures. Nearby, Silas paces frantically as Rinn stands frozen in shock.
"Starling! You are here!" Baz sounds relieved once he notices me beside Archie.
Azael's head swivels in my direction. "Come here, Azizam. Rhazien needs you."
But I am rooted to the spot, shocked to see Zien in such a state. He has lost weight, appearing almost skeletal since the last time I saw him. What happened?
"Moon, please." Archie whispers pleadingly, his eyes full of fear for Zien.