Chapter Thirty-One
Hack
Idon’t know if it’s been two or three days, possibly close to a week, but I do know time has passed. Time without my best friend. Time without my brother.
However long it’s been, I have sat at the foot of this ridiculous coffin. When Dei Hekate suggested we put Slash inside the glass structure to keep him in stasis, I almost lost my shit. He would hate this. He would lose his fucking mind to be seen broken and silenced.
I’m surprised no one has come demanding we leave the premises.
Instead, they’ve let us occupy this space as our own private grief chamber.
Aside from conjuring up a million and one different ways of killing djinn, all the fucking djinn, without repercussions, we’ve done nothing but mourn.
We haven’t eaten, we haven’t showered. When the need is too strong to ignore, we walk ourselves to the bathroom just outside the chamber to take a piss.
It’s only out of respect for Slash that we don’t just piss where we sit.
There’s no reason for us being here, a couple of demons who are trying to understand how the fuck this can even happen. The only thing we know is that moving away or leaving Slash alone for however fucking long, is out of the question.
Pierce is beside me, still staring at his hands as though they’ve betrayed him. He’s been like this since we gave up trying to bring Slash back. Blood covers them, covers us. It’s like we’ve bathed in it and we refuse to clean it off.
Meanwhile, Slay has been following Reilly, the murderous djinn, this whole time. We have no idea how he’s refrained from ripping that asshole’s heart straight out of his chest. I want to hold the djinn’s head in my fingers and show it to Slash as proof that we always have each other’s backs.
The problem is, Slay may be Death, but it’s rare for him to kill unless it’s a direct order from Samhain and that almost never happens.
You’d have to care to want to see someone dead and our Dei doesn’t consider anyone important enough to care about.
This time though, we’re talking about the Four Horsemen.
The four separate souls that he hand-picked among all the others.
For all intents and purposes, we are his children and no-fucking-body is allowed to kill us without running the risk of the full fledged army of demons retaliating.
An army led by our Dei, the king of the fiery pits of Heyl.
For Slash, Samhain will care and Slay will kill. He’ll rain his shadows down and suffocate the unworthy if it means avenging his brothers. Processing emotions isn’t easy for him, but no matter what he says or doesn’t admit, we are brothers and we are the only family he has.
“The fuck is taking him so long?” I ask the question knowing damn well Pierce won’t answer. He hasn’t spoken since he tried and failed to bring Slash back.
Guilt is worse than death itself. It gnaws and it rots from the inside, destroying everything in its path. At least with death we can always hope for a rebirth, like a do-over without the memory of the past.
When Samhain chose us to be his four horsemen, he didn’t just toss a coin. He curated, he searched, and he brought the hand of damned salvation upon us knowing we would be the four pieces to form the perfect puzzle.
As Conquest, rage and singular focus is my stronghold.
Slash thrives on the thrill, he welcomes the pain that reminds him he’s alive.
I’m well aware that I’m referring to him as though his soul is still with him, but I just don’t have it in me to shut the door or to turn the page. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Pierce is our healer, the bearer of the weight of the world as he tries to rid the souls of hunger, literal or otherwise. If he fails, he turns all that pain inward, owning it like he owns his own mind.
Death? He can separate the logical from the emotional and it’s the reason everything he does, he perfects. Killing out of rage brings about mistakes and Slay doesn’t make those.
So here I sit, filled with a neverending source of rage that’s ravaging my veins as I watch over my best friend.
Soon, I’ll have to take care of Pierce before he shuts down completely.
Then we’ll stand as a unit, backed by our Dei, and we’ll slaughter.
One or a thousand, it doesn’t matter. Nothing will be okay until blood, that is not our brother’s, is shed.
“Zelos.” My eyes snap up to collide with those of my chosen. She’s the only reason I don’t go on a murderous rampage, because getting myself killed is a sure way of putting her in danger and I’m just not wired for that. “I brought you both some food.”
My attempt at a small smile is weak at best. I don’t need to look over at Pierce to know he’s still lost in his own Hell and probably hasn’t even registered her presence.
“Satapti.” It’s all I can say before my throat chokes up like a fist is closing it off and effectively quashing anything after that.
“Hey, it’s okay.” With grace only she possesses—and maybe her mother—Sage falls to her knees and wraps herself around me.
This whole time, she’s been with Hekate doing I’m not sure what.
Last I heard, I needed to figure out what good a soul is without a body, but truth be told, I still have no fucking clue.
None of this makes sense to me.
Not the trial, not the magical imprisonment from Atlantis, not the ridiculous idea that Sage was trying to escape.
Mostly, I want to know why the fuck Slash thought it was a good idea to come running in here like a fucking warrior on a killing spree. And every time that last question rings in my head, the answer is the same.
Reilly wasn’t aiming at Slash. His intended target was Sage, possibly even me if he could get a two for one special. My brother felt this threat from the deepest recesses of his war demon soul and he did what he was created to do.
He fought and this time he lost.
I wish I could cry but my rage is all encompassing, not allowing for any other emotions to come through.
“I’m not hungry and I don’t think Pierce can even move.” We both look over at Pierce, whose hands are now hanging between his legs as he sits against the coffin, head back, knees folded.
“I failed, Hack.” Pierce finally speaks for the first time in what feels like years, and a small weight is lifted from my chest. I don’t outwardly react, though, just in case it pushes him right back into his silence.
“What good am I if I can’t even save my own brother?
” Fuck, his voice is so raw, like his words are pure products of guilt itself.
Sage reaches out, placing a timid hand on Pierce’s forearm.
Before long, a halo of light illuminates the area where they touch and even I can feel the warmth.
She doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to reassure him or give him meaningless platitudes.
The only thing she does is give him her support, showing him with actions that she’s there for him. For me. For Slash.
“Horsemen.” At the booming sound of Samhain’s voice, we all snap our attention to where he stands at the rotting wooden doors of what used to be—probably will be again—the chamber of the Dei. “The Moirai have spoken.”
Like a switch turning our brains from grief to purpose, we stand as a unit just as the familiar billowing of smoke gathers around our Dei. Slay is back, but we are not whole.
“We can’t leave him.” Sage’s voice is soft but firm. She doesn’t want to abandon Slash, but at the same time, the hunger for vengeance is a living, breathing thing, destroying us like a flesh-eating disease.
“I’ll stay here. I’ll watch over him.” I blink twice, not understanding the sight in front of us.
“Danika?” Sage is the first to acknowledge her best friend’s presence but it still doesn’t explain why she’s here.
“I heard the…news.” Danika frowns, giving her head a small shake, like even she doesn’t understand why she’s come all the way here from the safety of Velmore. “I figured I could maybe help?”
Sage turns to look at me before shifting her gaze to Pierce. We both nod because we need to leave and we trust Danika to keep Slash company.
“Okay, yeah.” Pierce says, and I just grunt like a fucking caveman.
“I’ll have a few lackeys and marshalls guarding the door. We wouldn’t want another kidnapping.” Fucking Samhain. Tact and etiquette are so beyond his realm, I have no fucking idea how he ever made to the table of the Thirteen.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that kind of inconvenience.” Danika’s spark isn’t dead or broken. Her bite is as sharp as ever. Fucking respect.
“Don’t listen to him, he was raised by wolves.” If I weren’t a boiling ball of rage inside, Sage’s comment would be hilarious, considering the worst of our wolves are probably better suited parents than the best of our demons.
Also, Samhain has nothing but disdain for Weres and wolf shifters.
“It’s not as cute as you think it is.” Samhain sniffs his disgust at the idea of wolves having anything to do with him. Then, with the flair of a fucking diva, turns on his heel—robe swooshing right behind him—and walks away.
Sage gives a quick kiss to Danika as we follow our Dei to figure out what is in store for us next.
But before we walk out, I stop and lean in close to Danika. “Thank you. We are all in debt to you.”
“It’s not like that. I…had a dream.” I frown but before I can get any other information from the loyal vampyre, I’m called by Samhain, whose patience is zero on a good day.
“We’ll talk about that later,” I call out just as I start jogging away.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I found myself chained to these very walls, right below the majestic halls of the Great Library, awaiting my judgment. Or, more accurately, my punishment. This time, I’m the one ready to dole out the pain.
“It wasn’t my intention to kill the horseman.” Reilly is shaken, all magical abilities bound by the cuffs. “I was aiming for the tribrid.”
As if that’s better.
I don’t hesitate, my arm flying and my backhand slapping him across his blue face.
“Fucking disrespect my chosen again and I will rip your eyes out so you can never see her again.”
“She murdered my brother!” His accusation is hurled at me with spit and hatred.
“That piece of shit raped and hurt my best friend. I don’t regret a damn thing.” I grin. I love hearing that fight in Sage’s voice.
At first, I had my concerns about Sage coming with us to the dungeon, but I’ve learned that her stubbornness is only rivaled by her determination. I’m choosing my battles and this one isn’t worth the fight.
“Dei, what are our instructions from the Moirai?” I don’t turn to look at Samhain as I ask, just like my two brothers—one fewer than there should be—on either side of me, we’re keeping our lethal stares on the murderer.
“The Moirai spoke to me, demons.” Fuck. When did Atlantis get here? “They have condemned the imbalance created by Interim Dei Reilly, for the Horsemen cannot be less than four.”
The smile I give Reilly as the Grandei speaks is slow, sinister, and promises a world of pain.
“Atlantis, please. This is highly irregular. I thought she was escaping, there was no way for me to know that the horseman would be stepping in front of her.” My growl is louder than Reilly’s voice as I get up close to his face.
“Hmmm, and you think your fate would be any different had you killed my daughter?”
The room goes silent. Deadly so.
“Wha-what?”
I grin wider at this fucking djinn because he knows that nothing he says can help him.
“The tribrid, you piece of shit. Goddess from Hekate, witch from Baba Yaga, and angel from Grandei Atlantis. Don’t you wish you’d kept your fucking mouth shut?” I can taste his fear and it’s feeding my hunger for violence.
“In accordance with the will of the Moirai, Interim Dei Reilly of the royal djinn of Faloria, you are hereby condemned to death. May the balance of our universe be restored. Demons, you have carte blanche.”
Fucking music to my ears.
“Thank you, Grandei.” No sooner have I spoken than Slay has let loose his smoke, creeping up along the djinn’s body until it reaches his face.
Pierce and I wait. This needs to be satisfying, it needs to have substance and poetic justice.
Wrapping his shadows around the djinn’s face, Slay speaks low as though reciting an enchantment until I listen closely and I swear to fuck my chest burns from the ache.
“With these shadows, I offer you death in return for death. You shall be avenged, my brother. You shall be missed, my brother. You shall be with us, my brother.” The djinn can barely breathe and that’s my cue.
Extending my arms, I let loose the vines that are an integral part of me and watch them entwine around the djinn’s blue form. They squeeze and squeeze, so hard that even while suffocating, I can hear his moans of pain.
“With these vines, I offer you conquest in return for death. You shall be avenged, my brother. You shall be missed, my brother. You shall be with us, my brother.” My voice hitches at the last mention of Slash. It fucking hurts too much.
Keeping my vines tightly wound, I watch as Pierce takes one step closer to the djinn, his palms out and ready to do his own brand of damage.
Just over the heart, Pierce releases his healing magic, but instead of infusing the djinn with it, he’s extracting it, effectively depriving him of any and all processes, magical or otherwise, that might allow him to stay alive.
“With these powers, I offer you famine in return for death. You shall be avenged, my brother. You shall be missed, my brother. You shall be with us, my brother.” Pierce speaks through his teeth and I can’t remember a single time where I’ve seen him so fucking livid.
It’s warranted, that’s for fucking sure.
Holding our powers in place as we slowly and painfully kill the djinn, we give our final goodbyes.
“With trust we stand. In love we conquer.” We recite as one, and as one, we honor Slash.
The final squeeze from my vines while Pierce continues to suck out the life force and Slay blocks all the air out of the djinn’s mouth and nose, tears the djinn in at least ten different pieces that fall to the ground with a satisfying thud.
All but his arms, still attached by the cuffs.
His head, much like Slash’s the other day, lies detached from his body.
Good fucking riddance.
We stand together, taking in the view, and I realize in that moment that nothing, not even vengeance, will ever fill the void Slash has left in our hearts.
But the time for grief will have to wait. Atlantis’s next words get my full fucking attention.
“Daughter, we need to speak.” He looks at me, his eyes travelling from my head to my vines, still dancing around me, to my feet, before giving Sage his full attention. “In private.”
Over my dead body, motherfucker.