Chapter 33
33
Ramone
Swords didn’t have much of a place in modern society, seeing as they are slightly intimidating to the average citizen. This was, of course, inconvenient considering they are beautiful, deadly, and encouraged creativity.
My favorite blade rested on the seat beside me while I had Adam drive me to an abandoned house. I knew of the building due to Kiara and her ultimately foolish acceptance of a dare, and I gleaned more information from a tense phone call with Stefan’s girlfriend. He wasn’t fond of me speaking with her but when I reasonably explained the situation, he bent to my will.
No one seemed to know what happened to the bottle of blood wine Kiara drank from in that house. Supposedly, it’d been left there. Kiara and I went to retrieve it once to no avail. It was dangerously irresponsible of me at the time, but I hadn’t been certain how many bottles were in existence then, and still no one had a solid answer to that question. We had to accept that the four known were all there was until it was proven otherwise. The bottles used to call to each other, but with the decay of magic that thread was gone.
Adam pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, tires crunching over dried weeds and loose gravel. I strapped the sword to my back and checked my other weapons—a couple daggers and a handgun and let myself out of the car before Adam reached the door.
The woods were thick with low brush and pricker plants and had no discernible path other than what may have been deer trails. I had a general idea of the direction I should go; thanks to the information I’d collected. When I’d walked several yards into the covering of trees, I paused, listening for sounds and testing the atmosphere. There, barely noticeable, was the lightest tendril of magic drifting from the north and I followed it. Although my wards had been weak lately, I’d still covered myself, hiding my scent and my energy in an effort to remain undetected.
Rustling from above drew my attention. A trio of crows had landed in the branches, screeching and cawing before I held my arm out. One I instantly recognized from the Second Realm landed on my forearm, stunning me and sending a fissure of pleasure through my soul. He was a beautiful corvid. Placing a finger on the top of its head, I told the bird to check the path before me and report back. The crow flapped its wings, chattering its compliance with my request, before it flew away to do my bidding. The other two birds hopped from branch to branch, accompanying me as I stalked forward.
I’d never experienced or heard of familiars leaving the Fourth or Second Realm and entering the Third. There may have been a nefarious reason for their presence, or perhaps the veil that separated the worlds was thin or torn. I didn’t know and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t detect any aberrations. Their presence was an advantage I would utilize and enjoy while I could.
The crow hadn’t come back by the time I reached the clearing. The abandoned house stood in the center, paint peeling, and wood worn. A wrap-around porch with broken railings and precarious-looking steps sat in the center, leading to a partially open front door.
I set my boot on the first wooden step, feeling the stair bending under my weight while I listened. The forest was soundless, other than the wind rubbing tree branches together. Dried rose petals lifted on the breeze, whirling and gathering in the corner by the front entrance. I pushed the door open slowly.
The creaking sound broke the silence, and I went inside. The interior was much the same as the exterior, with extensive disrepair but covered with dust and dirt. Battered furniture was strewn about haphazardly. Dried flower petals crackled under the weight of my shoe while I took everything in. The taste of magic and sorcery were on my tongue, and I scanned the inside for the source.
Knickknacks and other small objects were spread around, some on a mantle and many on whatever tables were still standing. There didn’t appear to be anything of interest, so I moved on into the kitchen.
A long table, covered with garbage, was in the middle of the room. Food wrappers and red plastic cups littered the surface of what would otherwise have fit into a scene straight out of a history book. A massive fireplace lined the wall opposite, its interior covered with soot, and a small cabinet stood nearby. I made my way to the wooden stand, kneeling so I could peer inside after I opened the doors.
I began removing the contents, lining them along the floor when the faintest hint of gardenias wafted around me. The next bottle I pulled out was the blood wine, complete with leftover magic from Kiara.
It threw me for a moment, sending me back to the evening I was outdoors with the wolves I used to keep nearby when an image of her had flickered in the distance. She’d left me, she’d proven her disloyalty and was supposedly gone—until she wasn’t. Ilya had bragged about his so-called “full circle” moment with the woman and here I was, possibly doing something similar.
I just hoped the consequences weren’t as dire and that Alastair and Devane had found a solution as they’d claimed. As they hoped. It was nothing more than blind faith, truly.
Not much made me nervous. This, however, had my guard up to levels my body rarely saw. Uncapping the bottle, I raised it and examined it, checking for any unknown magic when the floor creaked behind me. I whirled around the same moment I pulled my sword.
“Ammar.” I held the tip of the blade to his throat. “Why are you here?” In defiance, he left his arms down and moved to walk around me. I left the blade at his throat, watching it split his skin just enough for tiny red beads to bloom.
Undeterred, he spoke. “I could ask you that same question. Why is it that no one will answer my questions?”
Ammar was dressed in black jeans and a button-up shirt, apparently trying to acclimate to the Third Realm. His motivations remained a mystery. I’d prioritize uncovering them as soon as I was able. “This is my territory, my world. Direct your questions to me.”
“From what I have heard, you’re being slowly dethroned. Who’s your successor?”
He’d just shown his hand. “You should know better than to listen to idle gossip. I’m busy, make an appointment and we can discuss your place—if any.”
Ammar lifted his hand and my beloved sword disintegrated, forming a long row of gray dust on the floor. I pinned him to the wall before he had the chance to do any more damage, lamenting the lack of my full range of magic. I hadn’t been feeding nearly as much as I should have and whatever was happening to magic in general had left me in a compromised state. The last time I’d indulged, it had been John, who was likely the blandest soul I’d ever consumed. It was insulting that Samantha would cheat on me with such mediocrity, but I’d deal with her indiscretion later.
None of these issues would be problems for much longer if I had anything to say about it.
Keeping Ammar tightly against the wall, I lifted the wine and began pouring it into my mouth. The right thing to do would’ve been to wait, to wait until the others could partake as well. I may have been compromised in multiple ways, but I was still going to follow my instincts. There was still the bottle from the Fourth to be drank. Perhaps more, I had no way to be certain.
Ammar fought my magic like a beast, his hair loosening from the tie that had held it back as he swung his arms, trying to direct his magic specifically toward my hold. He remembered his handgun the very second I spotted it, and I flicked my hand, sending it skittering into the fireplace where it hit the wall with a metallic echo.
Tilting the bottle to my lips again, I consumed the remaining fluid while I stared at him, noting with amusement the sweat beading his forehead. Who did he think he was to follow me here—or to show up in this realm to begin with?
It’d been a while since I’d enjoyed this particular beverage, or the mild high the concoction provided. Licking my lips, I stepped closer to Ammar. The elixir soared through my bloodstream, every cell of my body tingling with the rush.
“You’re going to regret this,” Ammar ground out in warning.
I chuckled. “Not likely. I’d like to remind you that you told me you’d stay away from Samantha.” I removed my silver talons from my pocket and slipped them over my fingertips.
“I said I didn’t want her, not that I’d stay away.”
Red filled my vision with his inflammatory words. He should be worshipping her. “I'd say you will be bowing before her... but I'm afraid you'll be missing."
Dragging a fingertip down the front of his chest, my claw split his shirt open. Ammar’s muscles tightened and twitched while he struggled under the unnatural hold plastering him to the wall.
“I’m not the enemy, idiot.”
Ammar hissed in pain as I slowly dragged a finger up his torso, tearing his flesh. “Who sent you here?” He grunted, gnashing his teeth together and I repeated my question.
“No one.” Rivulets of blood coursed down his abdomen. Ammar was attempting to center himself so he could escape my grasp, I could feel him gathering his energy. Pressing my shoulder into him, I went for his neck, intent on draining what I could before he could escape.
But I forgot an important detail, I’d opened myself up to be drained as well by unbarring that channel.
“Idiot prince,” Ammar growled, shoving me away. I held onto him when we rolled across the floor and I pulled at him, pinning him to the floor. The table jarred, sliding several inches as the legs scraped the wooden boards beneath us.
When I finally straddled him, I held my dagger at his neck while his own was at mine. We were at an impasse, and I had to admit to myself I was very nearly matched by this trespasser, in terms of strength, skill, and magic. The opportunity for this to end unfavorably included odds I strongly disapproved of.
“Who sent you?” The urge to shove my blade through his neck was tempting.
His knife clattered to the floor, and he fisted my shirt, his other hand swatting my blade away. I kept it in my grip, but relented, confident my claws would prevent him from inflicting much damage. “I answered your question. You know as well as I no one did.”
He wasn’t lying, he was here of his own accord. I could see the truth in his eyes. “Very well. Why are you here?” Slowly I stood up, dragging myself upright.
“There’s nowhere left to go that I care for, everyone’s coming here.”
“You have your own world.”
“Yes, but yours is much more interesting right now.” Ammar laughed to himself. “You’ve created quite a stir, letting a source of magic go.”
He must’ve been referring to the influx of those we had in the warehouse. I’d instructed Alexander to let them go as we were now headquartered here.
“I do what I can,” I remarked, watching him carefully. It was a challenge to discern how much Ammar knew, and I didn’t trust him. His comment about my successor grated at me, I could only guess he devised a plan to uproot me and my men.
Ammar’s gaze drifted to the now discarded wine bottle, his brows furrowing. “You need to leave,” I ordered.
“Oh, I plan on it.” He smirked. “I’m merely curious as to what level of disaster you’ve conjured.”
Frustratingly, I couldn’t get a solid enough read on him, nor could I see his aura. He was a demon god like me, only from a different realm. The interactions I’d had with him in the past were few and fleeting but with his kind, their auras couldn’t be read by anyone but their own.
“It's all under control,” I replied. Or it would be, soon. My phone rang, interrupting the tension. I stepped away from Ammar when I saw Ilya’s name flashing across the screen. If he was calling me, it might be important.
Ilya relayed what he’d accomplished in my absence. He retrieved the bottle of blood wine we kept at the casino. Julian had been there but hadn’t noticed Ilya’s presence. If he did, he’d been ignorant of our actions. As I would have expected, Ilya consumed the contents of the bottle the moment he’d gotten his hands on it, same as I did.
That left a portion at my estate in the Fourth Realm, and the one in my office. There had been one in the Second Realm, at my club, but it was destroyed after Ilya had used it to poison me during his pursuit of Kiara.
If there were other bottles, we’d deal with them as we came across them. The important thing was to take possession of the ones we could, as soon as we could. If we wanted to remain in power, that’s what we had to do.
Devane and Alastair had discovered the true original document, describing the wine’s curse. The paper it was written on had been tested and determined authentic. Not only did my illegitimate pursuit of a magic source damn the realms, but the combination of my failure to drain her and my denying her of Ilya had as well. According to what they’d found, the only solution was to consume all of the curse, or we’d lose our divinity. Karma in action, set in motion by whatever perverse deity ran this universe.
Not only did we now have to struggle with the weaker mammal’s most inconvenient emotions or morals, but we also had to stay in the Third Realm. All of us. My visit to the realm with Samantha had further upset the balance. If anyone went to another realm, they’d be trapped there until the wrongs were righted and the fates approved.
I’d fucked things up and I knew it. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone did throw me off the throne—it was exactly what I would’ve done.
Ammar was wandering around the room, picking up and examining items while he wandered. “Why are you still here?” I asked him, irritated by his continued presence.
He grinned. “For the show.” He stopped his pacing and set a red plastic cup back down on the table. “The only areas affected by your blundering are those you and your goons frequented.” I eyed him as he spoke, waiting for him to go on. “You need to choose a side.”
“What are you talking about?” I was losing my patience rapidly.
The man wrinkled his nose at a candy wrapper. “The more you fight it, the worse it will get.”
Fight what? Fighting against my father or fighting against the changes, I wasn’t sure. “What I am against is no concern of yours.”
Ammar shook his head. “No, it's not.”
“Go home, Ammar.”
He stopped wandering. “I intend to. I’m going to assume you are aware of the magnitude of the curse on that wine you just drank?”
My hand itched. The lure of pressing my gun to the center of his forehead was compulsive. His constant chattering wouldn’t let me think. However, he was insinuating he knew something I may not. “I know it's under a spell.”
“You drank that whole bottle. You’re choosing a side whether you are aware of it or not.”
“Get to the point Ammar, I have things to do.”
“As do I,” he remarked, giving me a pointed look.
Letting out a deep breath, I said, “Am I going to have to worry about you?”
“I’m not here to interfere, just as I said. I have my own concerns. It's not every day a man in your position chooses good. Or, as good as you can be.” Ammar walked over to the far wall and pressed his palm against the marred plaster before glancing at the ceiling. “A good man can choose to do bad things just as a bad man can choose to do good things. We both know which one you are.”
“Which one are you?” I didn’t really care much and “good” was subjective.
He turned around and faced me. “Can you feel the change yet? Those bottles are all connected. Your magic is compromised but they’re tethered to each other, the bottles.”
Annoyance prickled down my spine. I already knew this, I just couldn’t feel it anymore, the bottles’ connection. The cure drinking the bottles would induce wouldn’t be complete until all of them were consumed and that couldn’t happen fast enough. Two bottles were left and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.
“Just stay out of my way,” I snapped at the man, turning to leave.
He called after me, “You won’t see me again.”
Ammar didn’t follow as I made my exit from the abandoned home, my mind churning. If the information my friends had uncovered was correct, drinking the contents of the bottles would end this madness. The curse would cease to exist, other than remaining inside us, and the realms would eventually right themselves. If fate allowed.
The only problem was the results would be permanent in those of us who imbibed. We could call that an issue except the interesting thing was, it made us more powerful. While possessing certain human emotions could be seen as a weakness, it also gave us deeper insight and stronger motivations. Having a better handle on interpreting the actions of those around us would keep us ahead of others of our kind rather than forcing us to swing wildly at threats or make rash decisions. All the studying in the world, while useful, did not match real-life experience.
It was too late to back out at this point, with the changes we’d made in reaction to the decay. If you can’t beat them—join them.
I stomped through the woods, shoving branches out of my way, the weight of everything on my shoulders.
The crows must’ve taken their exit, I didn’t see or hear them anywhere as I sought them. Missing the birds and wishing for their company was a foreign feeling. I’d had a trio of wolves I employed in the Fourth, and I’d never formed an attachment to them. I enjoyed their company occasionally, and utilized the beasts when necessary, but when Ilya killed one, I didn’t mourn its passing. Ilya had slaughtered one of the animals to protect his men and then made a rug out of the fur and I’d promptly forgotten about the animal.
Adam opened the car door for me, and I settled back on the seat, shoving my hair back. The chaotic thoughts brought on by the curse would take some getting used to. I had to wonder how humans were able to function as well as they could under the constant assault on their psyche. The word “therapy” popped into my head and chuckled to myself. There wasn’t a therapist skilled enough or discreet enough to help the devil.
Adam pulled the car into my driveway, my armed guards waving us in. Before he could get out of the vehicle, I told him to take me to Samantha. He started the car back up.
What I should’ve been doing was retrieving the bottle that remained in the Fourth Realm somehow, but instead I was standing on my love’s doorstep and letting myself into her home. I crossed the threshold and paused a moment, breathing her in and enjoying her flavor. She tasted of intense sadness, anxiety, and of course smelled like the sweetest blossom she was. Samantha needed me but the pain in my heart told me I needed her more. I was seeking her out for comfort, and I knew it.
The roses I had the foresight to send her earlier were in a vase on her kitchen table. I noted their presence with pleasure. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d thrown them away, based on her noncompliance earlier.
Her bedroom door was shut, and I slowly pushed it open. Samantha was curled under the blankets, her back to the door, but not asleep. It intrigued me how she didn’t stir, didn’t react. She knew it was me, but I’d have to speak to her about her carefree attitude toward personal security. Her aura remained muted, as it had been earlier, and still, some of it reached for me.
I lowered myself onto the side of her bed, waiting for her to roll over. She didn’t acknowledge me. “Samantha,” I addressed her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The relief I felt over touching her couldn’t be understated.
Her legs moved as she stretched out. “Why are you here?” she asked.
My hand slid off her shoulder and I leaned over to remove my shoes. “I needed to see you,” I answered. I’d almost told her I’d wanted to see her, but it was a need, a necessity. Not merely a want.
Samantha stirred a little more but remained facing the far wall. “Am I ever going to be rid of you?” The pain in her voice sent a sliver of panic through me.
“No,” I softly replied, moving myself onto my side and curling an arm around her. Her shoulder jerked at the contact before relaxing under my touch. I nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. I didn’t feed, only letting myself enjoy the scent of her, the feel of her skin against my face.
“I know you don’t want me gone,” I told her. “I know you feel it, you can’t hide from me.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke. “But you trapped me. Every night. For a whole year, you kept me a prisoner. Why? Why would you do that?”
“Can you forgive me?”
Samantha stayed silent for several minutes. There’d never been a time in my life where I’d ever sincerely asked for forgiveness. I’d given half-hearted apologies, based upon my manipulation of circumstances, but I’d never requested forgiveness. This was a first for me.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sighing, I said, “You were a distraction. The first time I saw you, at an art exhibition here in Boston, I knew you. I wanted you and I knew I had to get rid of Tim.” Samantha pulled away slightly and I let her.
“You were everywhere and all around me. Inside me. There was a connection I couldn’t deny. I had something else I had to take care of, family duty, that I would’ve neglected if I kept running into you.”
She sat up suddenly. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right? So why didn’t you imprison me during the day, only at night?”
“Because I would more likely come for you at night, when you’re at your most vulnerable. Its night right now.” I looked away from her. “Trapping you in your dreams made it less likely for you to frequent many events where we may have run into each other.”
I didn’t deserve her. Telling her I manipulated her in so many ways for my own personal gain while claiming to love her was likely the final nail in the coffin. My heart thudded relentlessly in my chest, my anxiety skyrocketing. The back of my throat itched, and my blood rushed through my head, filling my ears with a buzzing noise.
“And then you let me go, for no discernible reason.” She finally met my gaze.
I cleared my throat. “The problem was solved, so it was time. I’m sorry Samantha.”
“The problem was that girl, wasn’t it? Did you kill her?” She sat up slightly. “I think she knew who imprisoned me, she acted kinda weird when I told her what’d happened.”
Kiara was a subject I didn’t wish to speak about, my failure remaining a point of contention for me. I’d never intended for her to take off the way she had, removing herself from reach. She’d deserved better than any of my kind had given her. “Myself and another man are responsible for what happened with her. It's too late to do anything about it. And yes, she knew, she asked me about you. I didn’t tell her anything.”
“So, you expect me to just forget about everything and throw myself into your arms?”
“I’m requesting your forgiveness. I doubt you’ll forget anything.” Hopefully, she could feel my sincerity. “I’ll just take you into my arms, you don’t have to throw yourself. But I’ll catch you if you do.”
Samantha rolled her eyes at me in irritation. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be cute or if you really mean that.”
“I’m not cute.”
“No,” she mused. “You’re not.” Rolling onto to her back, she said, “You’re a bit obsessed, you know that, right?”
What I was, was dedicated. People only obsess over what they can’t have. “I know what I have.” I folded my arms under my head, laying back against one of the fluffy pillows by the headboard.
“You don’t ‘have’ me, Ramone. What you have is a victim of your abuse and obsession.”
Immediately, I sat up. “You’re not a victim of anything other than society or family, as much as I am. I told you I was sorry, and I asked for your forgiveness. I don’t know what more you want me to do but I’m telling you right now that I know you. I know you want to be with me. I’ll spend the rest of my infernal life making it up to you if I must. Without complaint.”
I grabbed her hands and she half-heartedly attempted to pull away, her big blue eyes staring into mine. “I refuse to lose you and there’s nowhere safer you could be than with me.”
“Ramone—”
Pressing my finger to her lips I said, “Do not mention my murderous intentions toward you. If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
Samantha lowered her eyes, silent. “Are you going to keep manhandling me like a beast?”
“You love it when I ‘manhandle’ you.” Her cheeks reddened, as well as her aura. A low laugh escaped me. “You can’t hide your reactions to me, I see everything.” She turned even redder.
Her conflict shone across her face while she tried to deny herself and her desires, attempting to fit into the mold she believed was hers to fill.
“That’s really not fair.”
“Maybe you can’t see my reactions to you, but I know you can feel them, when you let yourself.”