Chapter 20 Real
REAL
Kalypso
Kalypso leaned forward on the bench, cinching her laces before tying them off with only a small ache left in her ribs and abdomen.
The rune was mostly healed where it curled along her side and upper ribs, and she’d had no problem with the pain of getting it inked, nor having to do it herself in exact order without messing up any of the intricate lines lest she render the magic null.
But too late she realized she’d started it high, and now her chest band was rubbing right on the top of the tattoo.
She deserved that one.
It was odd, knowing there was magic flowing under her skin, ready and waiting for her to call on it. It was a different sort of feel from the external runes like on her cuff or around the perimeter of Achreos Barrens. This one didn’t make her feel trapped.
But it was a reminder of what exactly she’d designed. The purpose within that ink. The fact that Ozirax knew, and he’d still given her the tools to make it work.
Sighing, she stood and started her static stretches, nodding as Garion joined, then Tonomoch.
To her relief, in the few days since their practice had been cut short, they hadn’t treated her any differently.
They’d offered her smiles, taught her a new game with little ceramic tiles that looked comedic in their oversized hands, and gone right back to their teasing and banter.
Kaly skimmed the line of weapons on the wall—real ones, now that they trusted her with them—trying not to let it show how disappointed she was in the options.
“Still heartbroken, I see.”
She rolled her eyes. “I hated that fucking sword.”
Tonomoch laughed. “It was pretty pathetic in your hands.” With a hum, he turned back to the wall and narrowed his eyes in thought. “What about…”
He grabbed a handle, pulling the weapon off the rack and offering it to her.
“I’m not swinging a fucking mace,” she deadpanned.
His little pout was not helping his case. “What? Come on. It’s the best weapon out there!”
Garion smacked him upside the head, earning him a disgruntled growl, but he shook it off. “You just want an excuse to do your dance routine and show off.”
“It is not a dance routine,” Tonomoch huffed. “It’s a precision sweep, a body surrounded by monsters from all sides, coordinating two swinging balls of destruction—”
“It’s a dance routine,” Rand teased, joining them. “Alright, which weapon should Kaly have…”
Kalypso folded her arms, glaring at the three of them. “Who said this was a group decision?”
Garion grinned. “You’ve got to balance out the squad. I’ve got the dual short swords, Tonomoch has the maces, Rand with the single sword—”
“Fancy sword,” the yellow demon corrected.
“—and Oz has his spiked sickle because he’s insane and likes to be up close to those cursed monsters.” The blue demon cocked his head, lips pursed as he looked her up and down. “How are you with a bow and arrow?”
“Absolutely the fuck not,” she grunted. She had no desire to tell them she’d tried once when the training room was empty and not hit a single target. And she had no desire to fail in front of an audience, even if they were training her.
Rand rested an arm on her shoulder, a casual gesture that, a few weeks ago, she would have been shoving off. “Something with fists.”
“Brass knuckles!” Garion gasped. “You’d look so fucking badass.”
Kalypso agreed with that part, at least. “The blacksmith is already working on something, so stop wasting your time.”
She’d never seen grown males get so excited.
“Wait, what did you get?”
“What’s the hilt made of? Did she measure your human hands for the right grip?”
“Which forge technique? What steel did you select?”
A new voice filtered in behind them. “We’re about to find out. Guess what I picked up on my way here?”
Kalypso whipped around to Ozirax, eyes going wide as she saw the leather-wrapped parcel laid across his arms. And she would deny it if anyone brought it up again, but she definitely squealed before she was running to greet him—
The weapon. Not him.
Her fingers hovered over the package, dancing in the air as excited energy pulsed in her veins. She glanced up. “Can I?”
Ozirax nodded, a wide grin on his face. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”
“Did you look?”
“And deny you the first glance at your own design? I like my guts right where they are, thank you.”
She’d deny the next squeal too as she took the parcel and moved toward one of the benches. She didn’t even care about the four demons now hovering around her, trying to sneak a peek.
With a slow exhale, she turned one flap of leather over.
Silver flashed in the demonlight, flames catching on the warbled pattern of the long blade.
A unique forging technique to bring out the beauty of the steel, the blacksmith had said.
She’d made a few adjustments to Kaly’s design to make it work, but this was better than Kalypso could have ever imagined it.
The steel was just shorter than the length of her arm, broader and pointed at the end before sloping into a gentle curve.
The handle was made of stacked leather, dyed a rich violet and accented with a silver guard.
But her favorite touch was the hilt—a sharp crescent moon that would serve as another means of attack in close quarters.
Whoops and hollers sounded above her as the demons shouted their excitement, a few hands shaking her shoulders as they fawned over the blade.
It only made her smug smile grow wider.
“Oh, you thought I was done?”
Kalypso wrapped her hand around the handle and lifted, the fit and weight perfectly balanced in her grip, then flipped the next layer of leather off.
A second identical blade shined back at them, and as the squad cheered even louder, she picked that one up as well and turned to hold her fists together. The crescent moons underneath lined up, back to back.
“Frank!” Rand shouted at the same time Garion gasped, “Two blades!”
Tonomoch was already dragging them away, urging them to hurry so they could build a new training routine for her.
Kalypso smiled after them as she pulled her blades apart, resting them at her sides. But then she focused on Ozirax who hadn’t moved from his spot. His gaze was on her, mouth parted softly with a tiny crease in his forehead.
“What?” she asked, glancing down at her weapons. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with them, but had she overlooked a critical detail in the design? “Are they not—”
“Perfect.”
Her head snapped up again, frowning at the crack in his voice.
A small smile tipped one side of his lips. “Though, I think you could have gone with a few more spikes.”
Ozirax unhooked his sickle, holding it up between them…
And then she saw it.
The curve of his blade was more of a flattened crescent than a gentle sweep, but it had clearly been an unconscious inspiration in the design of her weapons. The point at the end… definitely the makings of a spike like the ones he had.
Kalypso didn’t look toward his knees, where tight pants covered the tattoos he had inked there, but she did look when his free hand rested over hers. Where the dark purple of his skin was a near match to the dyed leather handles of her swords.
All of it. The whole fucking design.
It was him.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered a second before his lips crashed into hers.
Maybe she laughed, maybe she whimpered, but his kiss was a distraction from the rooting fear that…
She loved a demon.
It wasn’t just happiness within her to enjoy a giant purple cactus kissing her like the world was going to end that afternoon and he needed to taste her one last time.
To feel as if she was falling and floating and leaping off the carved ways into the eternal mists whenever he looked at her like she was more than her past.
To feel as if none of that mattered because she would always be safe, through rage or joy, when he was around.
A loud whistle cut through the moment. Ozirax spun away, growling at their laughing squad, but Kaly stood there in a daze, realizing that none of this had been sudden.
It had been little moments. Training. Talking. The fundraiser. Letting him hold her hand yesterday to kissing her in public now. He’d been bleeding into her life for some time now, but it wasn’t just him.
She took in the four demons who had become part of her life, watching them laugh and tease one another in one moment then swing vicious blades the next. Defend their squad with no questions asked, including her, even when—especially when she’d been stubborn.
It was more than the squad, it was this realm. It was becoming more real.
“Hey,” Ozirax shouted, snapping her out of her distraction, then gave a pointed look to all of them. “Time to train. We’ve got an hour before food, and then we’re back investigating whoever is summoning monsters.”
The other three split off to spar, leaving Oz and Kaly—training just as they always did. Though, she wondered if the bargain was really necessary anymore. He’d been right about her not feeling challenged unless she was fighting him.
He shook out his shoulders, spikes flaring along his forearms as he took up position across from her and raised his sickle. “Don’t care if those are new. I’m not going easy.”
Kaly spun her right sword, then left, adjusting to the feel of two weapons. “Wouldn’t want you to, Ozzy.”
Fangs pressed against his lower lip as he smiled. “Show me what you can do, Spicy.”
And what she could do was a whole lot more fun knowing that these were her weapons.
Hers.
Kalypso swung, sliced, dodged. Twisted out of range of blade and tail. Caught strikes that weeks ago would have gutted her. She even returned the favor, predicting his steps, attacking in equal measures, and finally getting him to breathe a little heavier.
There was so much rage and freedom and lightness pumping through her muscles, she didn’t realize how hard she was exerting herself until the next squad was filing in for their time.
Oz tossed her a towel, and she almost didn’t catch it, too busy staring at his muscled abdomen as he used his shirt to mop up his sweat. Blazes, did he have to look so good in those cropped shirts?
“Mess hall,” Rand ordered as they grabbed their things and left, then pointed to her. “Whatever you’re thinking of putting on your plate, double it. You get testy when you’re hungry.”
Tonomoch laughed, moonlight shining on his sweaty gold skin. “She’s always testy.”
“I’m going to smash you upside the head with my plate if you continue to creep on me,” she muttered with no real sharpness, readjusting the wrapped blades under her arm.
Ozirax leaned closer as they walked the path toward the other building. “I’ll give you my plate, too.”
She grinned, about to jab back that he was almost as bad about making her eat when his entire body went stiff. But it wasn’t just him. The other demons around her halted quickly, backs going rigid.
When she looked up, she understood why.
A tall red demon stood in the middle of the walkway, arms folded to make himself appear bigger than he already was.
If only she was actually afraid.
Kaly groaned. “This fucker again.”
Zalvokan the Skullcrusher—yes, she knew who Ozirax’s father was now—snarled down at her. “You’re still alive. How disappointing. Thought the Dreadmoor would have dealt with you by now, but then I have to hear Ozirax is traipsing through Heck with a worthless human distraction in tow.”
So Astradez had no love for her either. Not surprising.
The red demon dismissed her, glaring over her shoulder at the squad. “You are all a disgrace to our ancestors, letting this filth remain in our guard—”
His eyes went wide as Kaly felt heat at her back. Three demons stepping forward, the fourth folding his arms at her side.
“You were saying?” Ozirax’s spikes flared, brushing against her skin, but she didn’t flinch.
Tonomoch’s voice filled in to her right. “Something about… a disgrace?”
Rand was next, his voice nothing but a cold growl. “Filth?”
“Worthless?” Garion finished.
Ozirax tilted his head, looking his father up and down. “I think we’re looking at it right now.”
Fury flared in Zalvokan’s black eyes, claws elongating into vicious points.
And Kaly didn’t care.
“Listen here, Squisher of Ballsacks.” Someone snorted behind her. “You better have a damn good reason for standing in our way right now.”
Zalvokan’s fangs pressed so hard against his lower lip, a small drop of black blood bloomed against his red skin. His glare snapped to Oz. “If you know what’s best, you’ll accept.”
Cold dread immediately replaced Kaly’s smugness as the red demon turned to walk away. Especially as Ozirax stumbled a step forward, every spike on end, including the ones along his tail.
“What does that mean?”
His father spun, claw pointed toward Ozirax’s chest but nowhere near striking distance as Kaly and the other three demons already had their blades out.
Zalvokan stared at each point threatening him, then Ozirax’s own raised sickle before spitting, “Since you were too cowardly to do it, I submitted your application for you. I suggest you take the position when it’s offered, Captain.”
Kaly’s entire body went cold, head whipping to Ozirax. “If Dolgeraus finds out—”
She never had a chance to finish her sentence.
The ground rolled under her feet, and then a thunderous boom split her ears. She felt it deep in her chest, reverberating through her bones until her limbs hurt from the force.
Her body was still shaking when the smell hit, and when her eyes met Ozirax’s, they were already wide with fear.
Rotten eggs.
“Summoning,” she gasped.
Ozirax swallowed and gave a shallow nod. “Our traitor just opened a portal. A big one. And not deep in the Dreadmoor.”
Kalypso turned, looking into the distance. “In Heck.”