Chapter 5 Malphyr
Malphyr
Maybe it was cruel. Leaving her like that, with my backhand comments and reminders about a ransom she cannot ever hope to pay.
I thought I knew all about my future bride, especially because I’ve paid my informants and network handsomely to keep me updated on her for the last decade.
But what I know are cold, hard facts. She’s proud. She’s smart. She’s cool-as-a-cucumber and cutthroat in business.
And she’s back.
Exactly as I planned.
I only wish I could’ve kept Kaiden out of it. I gave him a job. Paid him well. And still, he couldn’t resist the pull of the mirror’s poison.
Turns out, neither can Quinn.
Tonight, she showed me another side of herself.
One where that icy facade of hers has cracks and underneath lies a woman also afflicted by that cursed mirror.
Why me? I’m nobody.
Blast!
I dial up the shower to full force and the highest heat setting. Then I crouch under the near-boiling spray, wincing when the water pummels my wings and back.
If only it could also wash away the memory of the look on her face when she said she came from nothing, and there were people here who wouldn’t deal with her kind.
That anguish and self-loathing hit me like the lashing of a whip, splitting open my wounds with quick precision.
My little queen deserved better. So much better. And if it hadn’t been for me thinking I was so damn clever all those years ago, maybe all the people I’ve spent an age trying to help would’ve been better off.
At least, they wouldn’t be burdened with poisoned mirror magic that lingered for generations, passing from father to son, mother to daughter.
Each time it’s weaker than before, sure, but cured? Clear-minded and able to see their own beauty, their own strengths?
Apparently, that’s only a gift bestowed entirely upon children. From what I’ve seen, precious few adult humans escape infection.
And now, even my one true mate is afflicted.
Fuck.
I turn and brace my hands against the stone wall, letting the water pound at my chest like tiny fists of fire while the steam builds up all around me, spilling out of the shower room and into the bathroom.
I’m surrounded. Vision obscured by the gathering steam. Burning hot water pours over me. And it’s not enough.
It doesn’t hurt enough.
Not as bad as I think it should when this is all my fucking fault. People wouldn’t be trapped in their misery cycles with a distorted vision of themselves and their lives if I hadn’t dropped that stupid mirror.
My hand curls into a fist and I draw back, smashing it against the wall in frustration. The tile cracks under the impact, and the reverberating pain feels earned. Feels right.
So, I hammer it again. And again. Until the pipes groan, the spray whines, and a high-pitched alarm blares behind me.
I’m fucking failing.
All my efforts to help as many mirror-affected feel futile. The spread is so far and wide, and I can’t begin to atone for what I’ve done.
Is it any wonder then that my bride won’t have me? Not even Hell itself kept me.
I smash right through the stone, my fist caught fast in the hole I’ve made.
“What in Goddess’s green earth are you doing? Can’t you hear the smoke alarms?”
I turn my head, see a hazy Quinn moving through the steam. She yanks open the glass shower door, and horror hits.
It’s too hot in here. Practically boiling.
I pull my arm. It sticks.
“No, don’t! Stay where you are! It’s—”
She doesn’t listen. She reaches in, and I’m too slow, too late. She screams when the water touches her skin, and I fly into action, panic clawing at my throat.
I kick free of the wall, wings out, and move as if the Goddess’s Army were on my heels. I snatch her from the spray and shut the shower off.
Spinning with her in my arms, clutched to my chest, I flap around the tiny space, wrapping my waist with an old-style loincloth and throwing open windows.
Then, I’m on the balcony with steam billowing out of my apartment behind me. The whole thing takes mere seconds, but with her trembling and whimpering in pain, it feels like forever.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” I say, tucking her injured arm between our bodies. “You’re going to be okay.”
I don’t know if I’m reassuring her or myself when I see her skin glow pink. It’s scalded. It must sting, but she barely whimpers.
“Look at me,” I bark, tilting her chin up until her those cool blue eyes meet mine.
There are tears falling down her cheeks, and fuck, if that doesn’t break me.
I pull her hand to my shoulder. “Hold on tight.”
Then I spread my wings wide and leap.
The flight to Wilderwood Campground and Lodges isn’t far, but even so, I beat the air with my wings, hoping to get there faster. Quinn’s shaking in my arms, and I need her fixed. Now.
By the time I barrel through the heart of the luxury campground, the whole place is bathed in sunlight, and the shops are just starting to open.
“Maebeth,” I roar, stomping through the mostly empty shopping center.
“Where are we?” Quinn asks, fingers still curled into my shoulder and her scalded arm between us.
“Wilderwood Camp, inside the heart of Fable Forest. There’s a mystic here, and a healer. The best and the most discreet.”
“I don’t need a healer.”
“You need a healer if I say you need a healer,” I snap, finally spotting the shop window full of colorful stones and relics. “Maebeth!”
The old crone hobbles to the door and pushes it open. She leans on her cane and peers up at me through narrowed eyes.
“What are you hollering about? Trying to wake the dead, or what, Demon?”
I barge into her shop and head straight for the back where her worktable’s already set with a jumble of scattered stones, open bowls of herbs, and few burning candles. How the woman works in this mess is beyond me.
“I need your help. She’s hurt. Get your potions, your stones. Whatever it is you need.”
“No, don’t.” Quinn squirms against my hold and glances over at the old witch. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything, really.”
“Call the healer,” I demand. “Call Cole if you have to, but get that bear’s wife to come fix this.”
I push aside Maebeth’s stones and set Quinn on the edge of the table. Tugging on her arm, I run a finger over the pink, puckered flesh.
“I don’t answer to you, Demon,” Maebeth huffs, elbowing me aside to examine Quinn. “Now hush up while I have a look, or I’ll bring out the salt.”
I roll my eyes. “You know that won’t stop me, Maebeth.”
“The sage, then,” she murmurs, reaching over and pinching something from a bowl and flicking it into the flame.
I wrinkle my nose at the stench, but step back to give her more room to work. That seems to satisfy her as she mutters and mumbles to herself while looking at Quinn’s skin.
“Hello, dear. Step too close to the fire?”
Quinn lifts her gaze to mine. “Water.”
“Hm, so not close enough, then.” Maebeth sends me a knowing look, and I stare back.
No. I haven’t made her mine. Yet.
“What?” Quinn’s eyes dart back and forth between us. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing, dear.” She twists Quinn’s arm this way and that, murmuring all the while.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Oh. He didn’t tell you? Figures.” Maebeth stretches up on her toes, but her bowed back doesn’t straighten. “I’m Maebeth Thierault. One of the oldest witches and mystic dealers in these parts.”
She catches sight of the winking diamond on her finger and inspects it. “Pretty.”
“Temporary,” Quinn corrects.
Maebeth flashes an enigmatic smile. “Is it? Guess we’ll see.”
Quinn’s brow furrows and her mouth falls open. Swaying on her cane, Maebeth tips her head back to look at me.
“Girl’s right. She doesn’t need a healer.”
I balk while Quinn shoots me a small, satisfied smile. Then, she cuffs her wrist and blows on the burn while Maebeth grabs hold of my elbow.
“What are you doing?” I growl while she steers me into the main shop, muttering under breath. “I told you she needs fixing.”
“You need fixing.”
“What?”
“The girl’s fine,” Maebeth waves a hand. “She’s got ice in her veins.”
“Fine. Great for her veins. What’s that do for her skin?”
“She’s fine, you dimwit. Unlike you. You’re oozing black blood all over my floor.”
I hadn’t noticed. But she’s right. My hand is coated in the stuff. Maebeth moves around her shop, grabbing bits and throwing them into a bowl where she mashes them together, wraps it in cloth, and dips it in water.
Then she chucks it at my chest.
“There. Put that on and maybe next time use your words, not your fists.”
I press the pouch against my raw knuckles and stiffen. “I didn’t use them against her.”
“Of course not.” Maebeth jabs her cane into my belly and reaches for a roll of gauze behind me. She slaps it on the counter and props a fist on her hip. “But I can guess what happened. You didn’t woo her, you bought her. And now she’s feeling indebted to you. No wonder the girl chafes.”
I recoil, my gaze flying to the open doorway and the back room where Quinn sits.
Did she hear that? Maebeth isn’t exactly quiet.
“It’s not a debt. It’s a deal. A bargain,” I hiss, tossing the poultice aside and wrapping my hand in gauze. “Like a trade, we each get something out of it.”
“Seems to me you’re getting more than you’re giving, especially because the girl doesn’t know you’ve imprinted on her.”
I suck in a breath. The town always talks about Maebeth like she’s crazy, but I’ve always known the crone to be sharper than a surgical blade.
“Veritas vos liberabit,” she intones, waving her hands and shooing me off like I’m a pesky pet.
Groaning, I slide my bandaged hand over my face.
“Now, take your bride and go. It’s almost time to open, and I have to clean this floor.”
#
We’re two steps out of the stop when Quinn stops dead in her tracks.
“What’s the matter now?” I ask, turning back to find her staring at the glossy shopping center directory.
She jabs at the display and looks up at me. “They’ve got a wedding chapel here.”
I quirk a brow. Hope blooms inside me, but I fight to tamp it down as my pulse kicks up.
Is she serious?
“I’m not dressed for a wedding, darling.” I wave a hand over the simple cloth around my waist.
“Not even if it’s ours?” She traces her finger over the path, then turns on her heel and marches in that direction.
I startle at that, then leap to her side. “You’re accepting my terms then? You’ll be my bride?”
She draws a breath and turns to face me. “Yes. I’ll be your bride. Your little queen. I’ll swear to honor and obey, and whatever other vow I need to make to save Kai’s life.”
I swallow hard.
What about love? Love, honor, and obey… Guess a demon can only hope for so much.
“Okay, I thought you were going to sleep on it. It’s a big decision.”
She arches a brow and keeps walking. “I don’t have time to sleep on it. My brother’s missing. He needs me now. I can waste my time trying to line up a Plan B, or I take the more direct, efficient route to my goal.”
I reach for her and yank her back into my arms.
“So, that’s it? I’m the answer to your problem.”
She tilts her chin up, unflinching. “And I’m the answer to yours, right? A demon’s bride, a vessel for his half-demon baby.”
Her words land like a blow.
“Yes. No. I mean—” I break off on a frustrated growl.
“It’s fine. You’re Plan A, Malphyr. I choose you.”
My heart hammers in my chest at her words.
Then, she laces her fingers with mine and pulls me into the chapel.