Chapter 23
Maliki
Nightingale Viscount Manor
This is a complete waste of fucking time.
Well, mostly.
Morpheus’s conversation with Cain in the car actually proved interesting. Hades has told me about Demeter a few times, but never in quite as much depth as Morpheus went into when elaborating on her history to Cain.
“In our version of the Human Realm, we have something referred to as Greek mythology. Demeter is known as the Goddess of the Harvest. Not sure if you have that here or not, but if you do, some of the myths are founded on truth. At least in our dimension.”
Morpheus went on to explain that Mythos Fae once mingled with humans in our world, which created many of those stories that have been passed down from generation to generation.
But, unlike Cain’s dimension, ours opted to erase the evidence of a fae presence from the Human Realm and to essentially encourage our mortals to think we’re just figments of their vast imagination.
Those were all details I already knew.
However, then Morpheus started talking about the downfall of Alpha kind and the twelve who went insane.
“It started after we severed ties with the Human Realm,” Morpheus began. “I’m not sure if that’s a coincidence or not, but that’s how far back in history we’re going—roughly two thousand five hundred years ago…”
He talked about how the insane Alphas tried to enslave Omega kind.
“Demeter was one of them,” he continued, that information shocking the hell out of me since the Demeter I’ve heard all about loathed Alphas for hurting Omegas. “But something changed when she had Persephone.”
Morpheus goes on, talking about how Demeter essentially became a refuge for many of the Omegas.
“She’s the Goddess of Fertility in the Mythos Fae Realm, which includes agriculture and plant life, but her gift goes much deeper than a simple harvest. Her powers are grounded in reproduction cycles, which almost makes her Omega-like since our Omegas are the ones who create life.”
This was all new information to me, so I listened intently as he continued talking about her taking on a sanctuary role for Omegas.
“They would go to her when in heat, begging for protection,” Morpheus said. “Oftentimes in the spring since that’s when a lot of Mythos Fae Omegas once experienced their first estrous cycles.”
I consider that comment again now as I move through the dusty manor, my mind spinning with the concept of spring.
There is no spring in the Netherworld. No summer or fall either. It’s basically winter year-round, just without the snow.
All the plants are dead.
All the wildlife is dead.
There is no seasonal influence whatsoever.
Could that be why Sera never went into heat? It’s a question I want to voice to Morpheus, but I haven’t seen him since exiting the vehicle. He misted off to investigate something he sensed, thus leaving me behind with Sabre and Cain.
The pair of them are somewhere outside, waiting for the rest of us to conclude our visit.
Or I assume that’s where they are, as I haven’t seen them enter the manor.
I kick some fist-sized stones with my boot, the dark color at odds with the white marble floor. But it’s the jagged edges I focus on, particularly as they appear sharp.
Fortunately, I dressed this morning with the intention of walking through the maze. Otherwise, I would have been completely unprepared for this dimension. As it is, I’m in jeans and a T-shirt. But I really miss my weapons right now.
I also miss Hades’s manifestation magic.
It would be rather useful right about now, as I’d really like to create some knives laced with slug venom. Ones I could keep hidden until the journey home.
Then, the moment we returned to the labyrinth, I could stab Morpheus with them.
Alas, I’m weaponless. Bored. And utterly pissed off.
I may understand why Morpheus dragged us to this world, but thus far, it has proved futile. While I appreciate the Demeter history lesson, he could have provided that back in the maze.
Sera would probably be interested in the information as well.
Learn more about the power her mother wields over plants and other manners of life.
“She can’t create life,” Morpheus reiterated at one point.
“But she can manipulate the life cycle via reproduction and fertility. Which is a very powerful skill. It impacts so many things. Like the seasons. To alter a plant’s reproductive patterns, one must control all elements of weather—sun, rain, heat, cold—and she has access to all those life-altering components. ”
I consider all that now, my mind working through what components Demeter would need to alter around Sera to essentially control her reproductive cycle. To mask her true nature. To make her seem human.
And how is she manipulating those facts in Hades’s labyrinth? I wonder, frowning.
It implies that her power can not only traverse dimensions, but penetrate Hades’s wards, too. Otherwise, Sera would be her true self in that maze, right?
“No, that’s not how it happened,” Orcus says, his deep voice drawing me from my perch on the second floor and luring me to the balcony railing.
Glancing over it, I find him and Reaper in the main room below, the entertaining space covered in archaic-looking furniture—some of which has blood on it.
And feathers.
I noticed it when I first entered, already aware that this was the location of the battle between Demeter and everyone else.
But now I’m intrigued by what Reaper and Orcus are discussing.
“Yes, it is,” Reaper says, weapons forming in his hand. “Sera stabbed Demeter like this”—he uses a blade to demonstrate in the air—“and then…” His scythe appears, and he heaves it through the air as well. “I did that, Flame pounced, and we sent the bitch into your portal.”
Orcus frowns. “I remember Sera stabbing her and Flame pouncing, but not your scythe.”
Reaper gapes at him. “The Goddess bitch had it lodged in her stomach when she fell into Pandora’s Box, Orcus. I put it there.”
“But it wasn’t there when I handed her off to Ares,” Orcus stresses as I start down the grand staircase toward them. “Only Sera’s knife. And I remember that because I pulled it out to bring it back to you.”
Reaper shakes his head. “You never gave it back to me.”
“I did. I portaled back here and handed it to you before venturing outside to talk to Helia and Cain.”
“No, you stepped out of the portal, checked on Alina and Sera, then told me to follow you for some fresh air—which was code for needing to wrap up loose ends with the administrators of this realm.” Reaper glances over at the door where Cain and Sabre have just entered.
“Then I told the Dream King that this dimension sucks.”
Cain grunts. “I believe your exact commentary was in regard to our lack of pizza options.”
“Yes, that.” Reaper faces Orcus again. “They also have really stupid rules here. Stop stealing cupcakes. Stop torturing the humans in the dungeon.” Reaper glances at me as I approach. “Seriously, Mal, be glad this experience is short-lived. They don’t even let you eat the dark souls.”
“I don’t eat souls, Reaper,” I remind him.
He sighs and shakes his head. “None of you know how to have a good time.”
“Focus, Reaper,” Orcus says, his voice serious. “You really don’t remember me returning the knife to you?”
“No. Because it didn’t happen.” Reaper rolls up his sleeves to show off his ink, the dark lines writhing and changing just like mine.
Only, his power is quite different. I inspire sensation; he manifests weapons.
“I would be able to craft the exact same one Sera used if you gave it back to me, blood and all. But…”
Dark ribbons of smoke curl out from his fingertips, drawing my gaze to the glint of metal as it forms into a dagger.
“Is that like the one Sera used?” I ask, my voice a little deeper than seconds ago. Mostly because I’m now envisioning my mate holding that pretty little toy.
“Yeah, just like this,” Reaper says. “Only, it would have been smeared with blood after she used it, and as you can see, it’s clean.”
“You can remanufacture weapons that have been used?” Cain asks, sounding intrigued. “Like the exact same one?”
Reaper looks at him. “If it’s one I created and reabsorbed”—he glances pointedly at Orcus before returning his attention to Cain—“yes.”
Cain folds his arms over his chest, his immaculate suit reminding me of Hades’s preferred attire. “So you’re able to create weapons at will and feast on souls.”
Reaper stares him down. “I can’t tell if you’re about to hit on me or offer me a job.”
The Elite City King grins. “I’m merely expressing a professional interest. Nothing more.”
“Good. Because Alina doesn’t like to share. That’s why her name is tattooed on my cock.”
“You did that to yourself,” Orcus mutters.
Reaper smiles dreamily. “Yeah, I did, while Alina—”
Orcus clears his throat. “We’re getting off topic.”
“Indeed,” Morpheus agrees, appearing in the center of the room. “If I overheard everything correctly, you both have different recollections about Demeter’s capture, which would make sense if she was forced to quickly craft a mirage. We should ask Sera, Alina, and Flame what they remember.”
“Where have you been?” I ask him, suspicious of his sudden appearance and obvious eavesdropping.
“Attempting to re-create the garden,” he says before tossing a jagged stone onto the ground.
I frown because the color resembles the rocks I kicked upstairs with my boot. I didn’t think much of it—this place is a bit of a mess from being left to rot for the last year or so—but rocks are an interesting adornment.
Glass, I would understand. Several of the windows are decorated with jagged edges and open to the outside world.
Animals have also obviously been burrowing in here, too.
But that doesn’t explain the fist-sized rocks.
Kneeling, I take a closer look and frown. “I don’t understand, Morpheus.” Everything about the rock looks normal to me. Just out of place against the marble. However, he’s the one who just tossed it there.
“It’s not from this world,” Morpheus says before slipping his hands back into his pockets. “It’s starmud.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“Starmud,” he repeats, like that’s going to clear everything up. “It’s from the Mythos Fae Realm.”
My brow furrows. “I… I trust your expertise on that, but it looks like a regular Earth rock to me, Morpheus.”
“Sure,” he agrees. “Until you shine light on it.”
“You know, I failed to bring a light with me,” I tell him. “Because I didn’t know we were leaving our fucking dimension.”
“Too bad you don’t have access to an Alpha who can manifest items for you,” he returns. “Oh, wait…” A bloody lantern appears in his hand, one that has me raising both my eyebrows because it looks like something used in the Human Realm centuries ago.
But the moment the fire shines upon the stone, it begins to sparkle like a cluster of stars.
“You found that here?” Orcus asks as the glittering stone begins to shift into a new shape and color.
One that resembles… grass?
I’m so confused by what I’m seeing that I can’t take my gaze away from the sight. Because the grass is expanding. Growing along the floor. Then stops when it reaches the edge of the glow cast by Morpheus’s lantern.
When the light disappears, the magical substance turns inward, rolling up tightly into a bundle of rock again.
“Well, that was… interesting,” Cain comments.
“Yes, because it means the garden mirage was anchored to a tangible substance,” Morpheus says, meeting my gaze. “We should return to the maze. Now.”
My brow furrows a little at Morpheus’s stern tone. It suggests he found something else that he doesn’t want to share here, but back in the labyrinth.
Considering that going home is exactly what I want to do, I don’t argue and just say, “Then make a portal, God of Dreams.”
“I will. But please don’t stab me with a slug venom dagger, Enforcer. You’re going to want me awake and aware when we arrive.”
My eyebrow inches upward. “Playing in my head?”
“Fantasies are my realm, Maliki,” he replies, stepping toward me until we’re chest to chest. “And the one you were daydreaming about whilst wandering the manor tonight was quite loud.”
I stare at him, unwilling to deny his claim or make any promises. “Take me back to Sera, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Hmm,” he hums, grabbing my arm. “I suppose we will.” Without glancing backward, he adds, “Take care of my Strigoi, Elite City King. And sweet dreams, Sabre…”
Ominous energy swirls in the air, but I’m not given a chance to react to it because Morpheus shoves me backward.
And suddenly I’m falling through space.
Only to land with a sharp thud outside a familiar door.
Death’s Cabin.
Thank Styx.
I don’t think for a second more, instead manifesting a knife and throwing it right at Morpheus the moment he steps into view.
The bastard catches it, not by the sharp end but by the handle, and quickly tosses it onto the ground.
Tsking, he says, “Now, Mali…” His voice trails off, and he coughs a little.
I jump to my feet just as his knees give out.
“I switched it up. Not slug venom this time, just some spider ale. Or rather, the raw ingredient of spider ale that causes numbing.” Leaning down until we’re eye level, I add, “And I coated the handle with it, not the blade.”
I don’t wait to see what happens.
I simply walk inside and leave him to suffer. Assuming the blade manifested correctly, it shouldn’t be for long. If it didn’t manifest correctly, well… I shrug.
Morpheus deserves a little discomfort.
Sweet dreams, indeed…