CHAPTER SEVEN
Zandren
We sat there quietly as Omaera told her story. It was a story we all knew well, and while we were certainly the main characters in it, it was ultimately her story to tell. We were here for her . We crossed through the portal to Hell for her .
Mind you, I would do anything for my mate, but I hoped to the gods she didn’t ask me to buy a vacation home in Hell and spend our winters here. I shuddered at the sheer thought of it. The sooner we got out of this nightmare of a place, the better.
Mr. Jol, to his credit, remained tight-lipped and stoic as Omaera started from when she was struck by lightning, all the way to our ambush earlier that day in Reno. A few times, especially when she was forced to relive finding her aunt’s dead body, and what happened to Gemma, she had to pause and regain her composure. Those wounds were still raw, and I could feel how badly she just wanted to give in to her emotions and weep for those she loved. But she didn’t. She was so fucking strong, and as angry as a rabid badger. Which, to her credit, was serving her well right now. Anger and pain were her fuel to keep going when everything seemed bleak.
Our bond allowed me to feel her emotions as authentically as if I were experiencing them myself, which also allowed me to send her comfort, reassurance, and strength. So I did my best, quietly, while she did her best to get through the story.
“And now we’re here,” she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Asking you for your help. Because from what King Ryden has said, the best trap for a demon is set by another demon. And I’m not … demon enough—”
“Yet,” Maxar said quickly, giving her a mildly chastising, but mostly kind, look.
She smiled at him. “I’m not demon enough—yet—to know how to set one effectively. I’m also still trying to get a handle on my powers.” She offered the grumpy demon a brittle smile, but even I could feel her nervousness from where I sat in the chair.
All I wanted to do was pull her into my lap and absorb her worry. To stroke my hand down her back, press my lips to her neck, and ease the strain that had her ears nearly touching her shoulders.
We were all wound tight, but Omaera was wound the tightest. She’d already lost so much, and now she could lose more. Her mind—and a large portion of her heart—were back on Earth in the healer-mage’s infirmary with Gemma.
Fuck it.
Lunging forward, I pushed past the vampire and grabbed Omaera by the hand, hauling her up from the couch and over with me, where I plunked her on my lap and held her.
She didn’t protest. If anything, she seemed relieved. I ignored the glares from the mage and vampire. Fuck ‘em. They could have comforted her too.
“You’ve only mated with the Prince,” Mr. Jol finally said, his first words in what seemed like forever.
Omaera squirmed a little in my lap. “I … I’m getting to know them first. It’s been a rather overwhelming week and a bit. B-but I will. If you think it will help.”
Mr. Jol’s eyes scanned me, then quickly, briefly, drifted over to the couch where the other two sat. “The Fates won’t let you until you feel it in your heart.”
“Right.” She glanced at Maxar and Drak. “They’ve told me that.”
“It would help, but it’s not necessary.” Mr. Jol’s expressions were mostly unreadable. So far, he’d been kind, but aloof, with us. It was impossible for me not to have my suspicions about him, despite what my father said.
“So you’ll help us?” I asked, shifting her in my lap a little so she wasn’t squishing my cock and balls.
Mr. Jol’s face remained steeled. He focused on Omaera. “I’m very sorry about your father. I can’t say that I agreed with all of his policies, but … there was peace under his reign. He was a good king.” His expression turned stormy. “And Lerris … well, that diseased pup should have been put down centuries ago. We all feared what the Realm would be like if ever Donovar died and Lerris took his place. And the uncertainty since his death has left us all in various states of panic. Many have fled Earth and taken up residence in Hell, worried there could be another war between the species.” He narrowed his gaze slightly. “I take it most of our realm does not know of your existence?”
“That’s what we assume,” Drak said coldly. “King Howar, Queen Anysa, and King Ryden know, but we’ve kept Omaera’s existence and her ascension to the throne quiet out of fear of the overall reaction. Lerris knows, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Mr. Jol echoed. His head tilted a little, reminding me of a curious old dog. Not that the man really looked like an old man since we all stopped aging when we hit about forty, but the gray in his hair, the lines on his face, and the exhaustion in his eyes gave him a more weathered and aged appearance.
“M-my father’s powers transferred to me. So Lerris can’t claim it,” Omaera said. “At least not legitimately.” She met my eyes, then glanced over at Drak and Maxar. “Not sure why he’s not doing it anyway, just to set the foundation in everyone’s mind. Rally more to his cause.”
“Because there are a lot like myself who hate him, and he fears the response if he doesn’t have the magic—and the power of the sword—behind him to rule with force,” Mr. Jol said nodding his head at Moloch’s Sacrifice.
Omaera nodded. “That makes sense.”
The old demon still hadn’t answered my question. Was he going to help us?
“You remind me a lot of your father,” Mr. Jol said, not smiling with his mouth, but allowing his eyes to crease and crinkle slightly to display some warmth. “He was calm and kind, and I can see that in you as well.”
“Thank you,” Omaera whispered. “I wish I had the chance to meet him. To meet of both my parents. If I have to be Queen … I want to be a queen he would be proud of. That the whole demon kingdom, that the whole realm, is proud of.”
Mr. Jol sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “You’ve got a tough road ahead of you there, Your Majesty. Demons—well, all the species—may not take too kindly to a half-human ruler.”
“We’re aware of that,” Maxar said. “But they’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Expect to be challenged for the throne,” Mr. Jol said.
Omaera glanced quickly at all of us again, but then settled her gaze on me. “That can happen?”
I nodded. “Rarely. But it does. Typically, the path of the monarchy follows down the bloodline, but the reason for that is because that bloodline is strong. With strong heirs. However, at any point in time, someone else can put forth an official challenge. A polar bear challenged my father about a century ago and was defeated. Nobody has stepped forward since.”
“And demons have remained in power because we are the strongest,” Mr. Jol said, which prompted the vampire, mage, and myself to stir and make some grumbles. All the old demon did was lift his brow at each of us just enough to shut us up. “Lerris could challenge you. Hell, a dragon-shifter, or vampire, could challenge you. So you need to be prepared.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Omaera said. “I need to learn how to control my powers, but so far, we haven’t met a demon we could trust.” She blinked her bright-green eyes at him. “I’m hoping our search has ended?”
Mr. Jol shifted on his barstool, swirled his drink around in his glass, then took a sip. We all waited with bated breath. “Never seen a demon conjure a ball of energy like that. You sure you didn’t mate the mage?” He shook his head. “I mean, I know you haven’t. I’d smell it. But that’s not demon magic. That’s something else.”
“I … I didn’t know that,” Omaera said, glancing over at Maxar. “It just … it came to me instinctively. I created it in my mind like Raewyn told me to, and befo re I knew it, I was pushing that ball into my hands. It was the first time it’s happened though. The last two times there was a thunderclap, there was no energy ball—not a tangible one anyway. And I wasn’t able to target it like I did in the tavern. My energy was more like a sonic boom and hit everyone around me.”
Mr. Jol’s dark brow lifted slightly. “Your powers are evolving quickly.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily. But it does mean we can’t predict for certain just how strong and powerful they will be when they reach their maximum potential after you’ve bonded with all your mates.” The warmth was back in his gaze. “You may just be the most powerful demon—the most powerful being —alive, Omaera Playfair. Are you prepared for that?”
She swallowed. “Do I have a choice?”
That made Mr. Jol smirk. “No. I suppose not.”
“So you’ll help us? You’ll help me?” she asked.
He grunted, swirled the last dregs of the liquor around in his glass again, then tipped it back and drained it. “Fine. But you’ll do exactly as I say. You’ll train hard.” He met my gaze. Then the mage’s, and finally, the vampire’s. “I expect your mates to cooperate and not get in the way. Even if they think I’m working you too hard. I know how hard you can push a demon.”
Drak’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Maxar nodded as well, and I pressed a kiss to Omaera’s shoulder before meeting the demon’s gaze and nodding.
“Fine,” Mr. Jol said again, standing up from the barstool. “It’s late, and we have an early start to the morning. There are guest rooms across the courtyard, bathrooms and such. Help yourself to the kitchen. You’ll stay here and not tell a soul who you are. Got it?”
“O-of course,” Omaera stammered, sliding off my lap to her feet. “Th-thank you, Mr. Jol.”
“Call me Kenvin,” he grunted, wandering behind the bar to pour himself another drink. “You lot need to shower. You stink.” Then he took his liquor and silently wandered away down the hall, leaving us all sitting there, sniffing the air—and our pits.
Kenvin’s place was enormous. Definitely not what we expected when we saw the crumbling stucco and concrete structure from the outside encasing the dark-blue door.
Then again, Hell was all kinds of fucked up. We really shouldn’t have been surprised.
We made our way across the courtyard like he told us to, finding several doors, all different shades of blue. Maxar opened the light-blue door to reveal a bedroom. “Guess I’ll take this one?” He looked longingly at Omaera. “What’s your plan, My Queen?”
“I …” She glanced up at me. “I really want to shower.”
The mage nodded and stepped toward her, cupping her face with both hands and taking her mouth in a long, slow, deep kiss. “Come find me if you get cold.” Then he winked at her and ducked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Drak didn’t bother to ask her what her plan was. He simply opened the cobalt-blue door, nodded at Omaera, wished her good night, and stepped inside.
“And then there were two,” I said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the navy-blue door. I turned the knob and opened the door to reveal a third bedroom with a bathroom attached. “You go shower, Little One. I’m starving. I’m gonna see if I can find some food.”
Nodding, she stepped into the bedroom, dropping the backpack to the tile floor. “Don’t be long.”
“From you? Never.” I flashed her a big smile, then followed my nose to the kitchen. Kenvin said there was no ice in Hell, but did they at least have refrigerators? Did the food here taste good? Or would it give me the shits until we went back through the portal? I wasn’t keen on going out hunting for food either, considering there were genetic abominations out there that would love to shish kebab my ass and eat me for dinner.
That thought gave me pause for a moment. I’d never been the prey before. I’d always been the predator. The hunter. The one in search of his next meal, whether it be from a pizza box, or a rabbit warren. The feeling of being prey, of always having to be on the lookout, sat uncomfortably in my stomach. I didn’t like it one bit.
All the more reason to get the fuck out of this place ASAP.
As I feared, I couldn’t find a fucking fridge in the kitchen. Not even a door to a cold storage or cellar. Probably because nothing cold existed in this godforsaken wasteland. Did that mean they drank warm beer at the tavern? That seemed sacrilegious.
After exploring several cupboards, I found some food. Mostly dried crackers and biscuits, some canned meat—though I couldn’t read demon, so fuck if I knew what animal it was—and what appeared to be cereal. No milk though. Who the hell ate cereal without milk? Or did they just eat it with warm milk? And from what animal?
I stopped asking myself those questions in fear of the answers, grabbed a box of crackers and a can of the mystery meat, and opened it all up on the counter. The meat didn’t smell too terrible, and I was too fucking hungry to really give much of a care.
Tomorrow, I’d ask Kenvin about getting some proper food up in this place and get him to translate some words for me too.
Using a knife, I smeared some of the mystery meat—which was more of a spread than anything—onto some crackers and shoveled them into my mouth.
If I wasn’t so fucking hungry and being eaten alive by my own body from the inside out, I would have spat out the food. The crackers were stale and too salty, and the meat was … it was a cross between tuna, pork, and … dirt. I’ve eaten a lot of dirt, and this wasn’t even good dirt.
Gagging as I chewed, I plugged my nose so I wouldn’t have to taste it as much, but it did very little to mask the flavor.
“What do you expect when you come to Hell? Gourmet meals?” came the gravelly voice of Kenvin as he wandered into the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not all inedible. You just happened to choose a very undesirable combination.” He opened up a different cupboard and brought out a jar of something, along with a sleeve of what looked like cookies.
I swallowed the culinary atrocity and turned on the tap at the sink, hanging my head beneath the faucet and guzzling. Even the water tasted off.
“I have a filtration system I use, hence why the tap water tastes so much worse than the water you drank earlier. Here.” He opened up the pantry door and brought out a glass bottle of water. “Drink this.”
I twisted off the cap and chugged, trying to rid my mouth of that horrific taste. He watched me with veiled amusement as he grabbed another knife from the drawer, opened the jar and cookies, and proceeded to smear a generous amount of the black paste onto the cookie.
“Why does everything in Hell have to be so … terrible?” I asked, wanting to literally scrape the first layer of my tongue off with a razor blade.
“It’s Hell . It’s not supposed to be an enjoyable place to live.”
“And yet, so many demons choose to live here.”
He handed me a cookie. “Yeah, well, we learn to adapt and make the best of a situation. Don’t you often wonder why humans choose to live in certain places on Earth? The desert, the fault lines, hurricane and tornado alley? Places with dictators, or creatures that can kill you with the smallest of bites?”
I suppose. I nodded and hesitated before taking a bite as I sniffed the cookie and paste. It didn’t smell like the mystery meat. It didn’t really smell like anything.
“It doesn’t taste bad,” he said with an eye roll. “I promise.”
After one final sniff, I took a bite. He was right. It didn’t taste bad. It didn’t really taste like anything, actually. It was just … not terrible tasting.
“It’s called blankberry jelly. It’s literally a flavorless berry found on some desert bushes. The cookies are high in protein, made from Hell Cricket powder. Again, they taste like nothing. ”
“I’ll take nothing over that other thing I ate. Why do you even have that in your cupboard?”
“Magsith doesn’t taste as bad once you cook it. It’s practically inedible raw—which is how you chose to consume it—but cooked it’s not terrible. Those crackers though, those are stale as fuck. Throw them away.” His smirk pulled out one of my own, and I glanced around the kitchen in search of a trashcan, finding one in the corner. “What’s a ‘magsith’ anyway?”
“Looks like an elk, but it’s got two extra legs that have pinchers like a praying mantis, and webbed back feet. It can swim really well. They’re herbivores, despite their nasty appearance. They farm them down here.” He smeared more of that blankberry jelly onto another cookie and passed it to me. “You getting on all right sharing a mate with a vampire—Howar’s cousin, no less—and an unhinged fire-mage?”
I shrugged and popped the cookie and jelly into my mouth. “It’s not ideal. But she mated me first, and I’m taking comfort in that. I also know it’s not like she—or any of us—chose this. I’m just glad to finally have a mate—even if I have to share her.”
“That’s one way to look at it. What can you tell me about the mage anyway?”
I shrugged again, reaching for the knife in the jar of jelly as well as a cookie, and fixing myself some more. “Don’t know much. Haven’t really had time—or the desire—to get to know him. Why? Do you know something?”
Kevin shook his head. “No … though, he looks awfully familiar. What’s his last name?”
“Rane.”
Kenvin’s eyes went wide. “Rane? As in Gwinn and Nulon Rane?”
“My father had the same reaction. Who are Gwinn and Nulon Rane?”
“Dark-mages. They were part of a large organization—mostly made up of mages—who were preparing to unleash a deadly plague on humans, committing a mass genocide some three hundred years ago. Both of them are imprisoned here in Hell after standing trial. They’ve been here for centuries.” He shook his head, worry in his gaze. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, deciding that I would make a stockpile of jelly-covered cookies and then devour them, rather than slather and eat one at a time. “I wonder if Omaera knows?”
“Do you think there’s reason to be concerned about this mage? That he’s gone dark like his parents?”
“If we were continuously worried about offspring following in the steps of their sires, we wouldn’t have had the peace that came with King Donovar, or the peace that came with King Howar, would we? Their fathers were tyrants. Not all traits are passed down. Some children choose to break the mold.”
Kenvin’s head bobbed. “You are very right, young prince. So, will you confront the mage to learn of his intentions? Or speak with the Queen first?”
“I need to think about it for a bit. I’m curious if he’s going to try to see his parents while he’s here. Is the prison far?”
“Half a day’s drive there and back.”
I scraped the last bit of blankberry jelly from the jar with the knife and spread it over the final cookie. “We’re carless. So it might take a bit longer.”
“We can sort that out.”
“You’re not as grumpy as my father said you would be,” I mused, picking up the first cookie and popping the whole thing into my mouth. “Did we just catch you on a good day?”
That made the old demon snort and something almost akin to … hope—maybe?—glimmered in his blue gaze. “When I saw Moloch’s Sacrifice, it confirmed it. But I suspected she was his heir before that. She has his eyes. I’ve never felt such relief. She’s pure of heart. I can feel that. I can sense it. She’ll be a good queen for the Realm. Her father was a fair and noble leader, but he became almost too cautious as the years went by. Too afraid to rock the boat of peace and establish any kind of progress. There might be a truce between the species, but there’s still a lot of underlying hatred, racism, and animosity. He should have addressed that more. I have hope that she will.” He shrugged. “Maybe when she is accepted and comes to her full power, I’ll consider moving back to Earth. I do miss strawberries.”
“It will be hard not to establish true peace in the Realm with all the species, given that her consorts are the other three species.”
He nodded again. “Perhaps this was the Fates’ reason for giving her three. To finally establish true peace, and not hostility veiled in a white flag.”
“It still might be a hard sell given that she’s half human.”
“That’s true. How does your father feel about her being half human, half demon?”
The mention of my father brought a smile to my face. “He doesn’t care. He’s just excited for grandcubs, and that I finally get to experience the joy of having a mate.”
“Ryden’s getting soft in his old age.”
“Soft, but still grumpy.”
“After what that bear’s seen in his lifetime, I can’t blame him.” He grabbed himself a glass bottle of water from the pantry and tossed me a lopsided smile. “Tell the Queen we start training early in the morning. Until then, get some rest. You’re all safe here.” Then he left, leaving me standing there in the kitchen with nothing but crumbs on the counter, a somewhat-full belly, and a lot of questions about the future.