Chapter 38 Thane
Thane
He had to drag his gaze from his striking mate and force his thoughts to the task ahead.
The sorceress’s cave raked at his Instinct. —Begone from this cursed place.—
Blood-spattered stone lay slick beneath creeping mold, and blackened vines crawled over the entrance like exposed veins. Gnawed bones crunched underfoot, stripped clean and scattered without care.
“Splendid curb appeal,” Ditch murmured, eyes fully black, her laughter low and shimmering.
“You’ve drunk too deep of that stolen magic,” he said.
In answer, she stifled a burp behind her claw-tipped fingers.
“I’ve never told another immortal to sober up, but now may be the time. Stay behind me.”
“I’ll have to unbridle this magic sooner or later, but whatever you say, wolf.”
“Remember, I take the hits.”
She chuckled again, sounding more like a sweet, amorous female and less like a demonic witch who ate sorcery and skewered unwary Lykae up the arse.
That thought made him hesitate to give her his back. He could never predict her actions, which left him even more on edge. With a bitter curse, he turned to enter, heartened that she fell in line without violating him.
He inhaled the cave’s foul air. At least three females inhabited this lair. His Sorceri target wasn’t alone.
Other scents hit, and his Lykae mind sorted them.
Offal. Decay. Death.
Aye, wrongness.
Why did the magically inclined always have to be so bloody eerie? He glanced over his shoulder at his mate, wondering if he’d even skimmed the surface of her. Or if he ever would.
“Come in, friends,” called a voice from the dark. “Come in.”
He followed the sound deeper into the cavern, toward a space lit by trembling candles jammed into skulls and cracks in the stone. It might’ve been a wizard’s workshop—if the wizard had been mad. Which most of them were.
Blood-slick stone slabs. Jars lined on crooked shelves, each holding something that twitched in murky fluid. Shadows jumped as the candles wavered.
He scented again. A mortal had recently died here. Perhaps a Berserker. Had these Sorceri butchered the poor sod?
What kind of female would cannibalize—
The thought ended abruptly. Your mate would.
He shot Ditch a look over his shoulder. Her lips curved, and amusement danced in her eyes. Had she read his thoughts?
She whispered loudly, “Lazara, rest her soul, had good taste.”
His mate was a godsdamned cannibal of her own kind. Fuuuck. He grated, “You said you would no’ read me.”
“I also said I lie all the time.”
“I thought you could only detect my deepest desires as an enchantress. Not a mind reader.”
“I’m not even probing your thoughts, darling. With this much stolen sorcery brewing, they just come to me.”
Before he could answer, a figure drifted from the shadows. The tall female wore a mesh dress and metal gloves with sharp claws. A mask of beaten gold hid her face. “We never get guests,” she cooed. “We three sisters like guests. I’m Pemphre, the Queen of Questions.”
Two other females emerged behind her. Clad in mesh as well, they wore eye masks over their bloodless faces. One’s painted smile was a jester’s slash, the other’s mouth a red frown. Their irises were so dark their eyes appeared not to have pupils.
Pemphre pointed a claw to the tallest of the three. “That’s Enya, Queen of Chaos.” A dismissive wave indicated the other sister. “And she’s Deina, Queen of Riddles.”
He inclined his head. “Thane, King of Craigdúr. This is Ditch, High Priestess of the Witches.”
Pemphre’s tone turned silken. “A practitioner of great power. We have heard of her. We have interest in her. We should like her.”
Ditch’s grin was all teeth. “And what are your powers, queens?”
Pemphre trailed a claw down her own throat. “I answer any question, but the answer is always unwelcome. Deina grants power to whoever solves her riddles.”
Deina sang softly, “Who lives in light behind a sheer wall, whose death will cause the fall of us all?”
“Thank you, Deina.” Pemphre rolled her eyes behind her mask. “And Enya, the Queen of Chaos? She hastens fate.”
“Chaos and fate are no’ the same thing,” Thane pointed out.
Enya laughed. “Spoken like a male favored by fate.”
He forced himself not to glance at his cannibal mate. “Have I been then?”
Yet Enya’s focus slid toward Ditch. “Not all here are.” She said the words with an understatement’s tone.
Ditch’s own eyes narrowed, so Thane cut in: “I have a question for Pemphre.”
The sorceress’s gaze flowed over him, both avaricious and lustful. “And what will you pay? Already you’ve broken our rule. Not only did you come unalone, you brought clever power to feast on our sorcery. Unalone, you must atone.”
He thought about asking if their last victim had come alone, but he focused on his mission and offered the coin from his pouch.
“Oldest coin in my kingdom.” He crossed to Pemphre.
He avoided touching her, but she gripped his hand with her claws and rubbed her arm against his.
He drew back with a shudder; her skin was cold and damp like a dead fish.
“I love fish,” Ditch said dreamily.
“Gods save me,” he hissed under his breath.
Pemphre turned the coin over. “This is from the Skein. Not Gaia. The gold is old, but not old gold.”
The other two sisters said in unison, “Not old gold. Unalone, you must atone.”
“What else can I pay?”
“Entertainment,” Pemphre said, excited. “So few visitors…so many years.”
“So few visitors,” the others chimed, “so many years.”
“You live in the Helter,” he said. “What sort of visitors did you expect?”
“Handsome ones. Like you. Entertaining ones. Like you.”
Ditch flanked him, tail twitching. “And if he doesn’t feel like entertaining you? Maybe I’ll torture the three of you, nibbling on your toes until you give him his answer.”
The sisters’ masked faces turned toward her. In creepy unison, they replied, “We would like you to nibble.”
“Not the way I do it.”
Damn it, woman.
“You are full on our power,” Pemphre whispered. “Glutted on sorcery, yet you still hunger. Nearly as much as your delicious wolf.”
Delicious. A further attempt at flirtation? Or did they think they’d be dining on him? His inner beast roiled, and his Instinct screamed, —Both. Get your mate away from here.—
For fuck’s sake, when did cannibalism become a thing?
“It’s classic horror for a reason,” Ditch said. Then she faced Pemphre to add, “And I always save room for more,” taking up the degree of hostility a few thousand notches.
“We too hunger,” came the reply of three. “Immortals usually do.”
He reached for his sword, about to slide it free—
Caaawww!
A crow burst into the cave. Pemphre snatched it from the air with impossible speed and dashed it against a slab. The bird writhed amid slimy viscera. Those whitish lengths slinked slowly, then all at once to the floor.
When Ditch laughed gaily at the sight, he rolled his eyes. The hells am I going to do with these people?
Pemphre used one claw to slit the crow’s belly.
“A sacrifice for divination?” Ditch asked with professional curiosity.
He frowned, recalling the griffin had made the same cut with that cow. Why hadn’t it eaten the fresh meat and drunk the warm blood? Not even a beak dip. Perhaps that griffin had been making its own sacrifice to the peak?
Even Ditch’s brows drew together as she stared at the crow. Had she had the same thought or read his?
“Divination? You haven’t paid for that yet. I’m peckish.” Pemphre raised a slick tube of entrail behind her mask, sucking it like marrow. Then she chewed it with a pensive look in her pupilless eyes.
Despite seeing it all in his millennia of life, Thane grew nauseated.
Deina chose that moment to float another riddle. “The lightning rod is draped in fire, yet even her tears can’t douse the pyre.”
“Yes, yes, Deina.” Pemphre dropped the crow, its broken body still twitching.
“I’m ready to be about this,” Thane told the Sorceri. “What entertainment do you want?”
Pemphre’s mask tilted. “Survival.”
Deina whispered, “Be swift.”
Enya added, “They come.”
He caught the scent before he heard them. “Ghouls,” he growled.
Pemphre nodded. “You led them here. No traps left to slow them. And our cave has no other exit.”
“No other exit,” echoed the two.
Thane drew his sword. “If I take them out, you’ll answer my question.”
Pemphre inclined her head. “One question. One answer. No traps. No other exit.”
He positioned himself before Ditch. “Stay behind me.”
Her laugh came low and throatier—less witch than something else.
Chills racing up his spine, he glanced back and found fire burning along Ditch’s horns and tail, her eyes bright as embers. “What in the bloody hells?”
Her voice purred through the growing moans of ghouls. “Exactly.”