Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Vadrien recognizes this beast immediately for what it is. It should not exist, not when his kingdom spent decades warring to purge this creature’s kind from their lands. But at this point, he is too far gone to care—the wanting consumes him.
The devil smiles so wide Vadrien can count almost every single one of its long, sharp teeth.
“But are you willing to pay the price in blood?” the devil asks. It reaches forward and traces two fingertips along the side of Vadrien’s neck, where his pulse roars under his skin. Despite the suffocating heat, the creature’s touch is cold as ice.
He is not certain what the devil means, but it does not matter anymore. This rage, this hunger—it devours him entirely.
“Yes,” Vadrien pants. “As much as you need.”
Sindra stumbles away from Vadrien until her back is pressed to the wall.
“Blood? That’s the price?” Her yellow eyes are wide and wild as she flings a hand toward the cursed crown. “You’ll kill everyone, for this? Is that why you’ve brought them all here?”
“I won’t take their lives, my dear. Just a drop from each is all I need, enough to hold…sway. Enough to secure my reign, so that no tyrant can rule over me or Moros ever again.” He stalks forward until he looms over her. His voice rasps in her ear. “That’s the price.”
“Look at what you’ve done to your kingdom—you think you’re some savior? You’ve become the very thing you claim to hate.” Horror dawns on her, and her pitch lowers to a hoarse whisper. “Why are you telling me this?”
Vadrien reaches forward to stroke his knuckles down the side of her cheek; Sindra shivers.
“I want you on my side. At my side. I’ve seen you fight, and you’re good, devilkin, but imagine how much better you’d be if you had access to the kind of power my master offers.
We could be allies.” His voice darkens. “Companions.”
It doesn’t matter what she says, Sindra realizes. He’s giving her the illusion of an option, playing pretend at giving her agency. It’s not so different from the offer the devil had given him—granting Vadrien’s greatest wish, and all he had to give up was his soul. His control.
Sindra searches Vadrien’s eyes for the memory of the earth-brown tones she’d seen before. “Don’t do this. Surely you’ve learned the truth. Surely some part of you knows.”
But his frantic eyes shine bright red like the ruby at his throat. “All I know is that, very soon, I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Her voice doesn’t waver when she says, “I won’t let you do this.”
“I thought you might decline.” Vadrien leans forward to whisper in her ear. “But remember, Sin. I offered you a choice.”
And then he sinks his teeth deep into the side of her neck.
Mona slams her fist on the table hard enough to make her green dice shiver. “I swear I will cancel all of my plans right now if it means we can keep playing.”
It’s already late, way later than we usually play. It’s easy to lose track of time in the Dungeon Room, which has no windows, especially since the sky was already dark when we arrived.
“Sindra and Antoni are about to die, and you’re telling me we need to stop?” Mona protests.
Truthfully, they had been about to die for only the first half of the session.
After our scene with Vadrien paused, Colin, Mona, and Shay spent the rest of the night stumbling around the castle trying to find where our characters disappeared to.
If I’d known I would spend most of the night watching drama unfold while our characters’ fates hung in the balance, I would have brought popcorn to share with Arthur.
Colin huffs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I told you we shouldn’t split the party.”
Wesley nods sagely even as he grins. “Everything takes longer when you split the party.”
Shay laughs and lays a hand on Mona’s arm when her eyes nearly bug out of her skull. “But Thanksgiving is next week,” Mona goes on. “You’re going to make me wait until after to find out what happens?”
Arthur—who, like me, has watched the others with amused detachment—finally raises his hand for the table’s attention.
Wesley jerks his chin toward him. “On that note,” he says, “Art has an announcement.”
Arthur clears his throat, laces his hands on the table, and leans forward while Shay looks on with a pleased smile.
“Obviously, we won’t have a session next Thursday,” he says, “and I hope you all have plans that involve eating well and spending time with loved ones. But if you’re available during the weekend, I’d love to invite you out to our family’s cabin in Vermont.
If you’re game, I figured it’d give us another chance to play—and a change of scenery. A nice little retreat, if you will.”
Mona’s eyes find mine across the table. “It would be a good excuse to leave,” she says bluntly, and I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me.
Mom goes all out for Thanksgiving and hosts more people than her small house has room for.
While it’s one of my favorite times of the year, always leaving my heart and stomach so full that I think I might burst, it can be… a lot.
She won’t mind a weekend getaway, I don’t think. Not if we’re there for the main festivities.
Colin stretches in his chair, his sneakered feet knocking against the table legs. “You know I don’t have any plans.”
Wesley nods. “I can come.”
Behind his beard, Arthur smiles. “Then we’re all set. I’ll send the details this weekend.”
Wesley casts his gaze around the table, finally settling his eyes on me. “Then I’ll see you all in Vermont.”