Chapter 63 Delilah
Chapter sixty-three
Delilah
The setting sun cast a hazy, golden glow over the village of Fallow Hill, illuminating the low fog that crowded the narrow street.
Like something out of a movie, Fallow Hill appeared trapped in time, with dirt roads and whitewashed homes, I could feel the history the second we stepped out of the shadow gate.
It was immediately apparent that we had ventured far to the north, not just from the sudden drop in temperature, but from the dense pine forest that surrounded the village.
Cottages were tucked between the trees, their windows glowing and doorways draped with garlands of rowan berries, Samhain decorations historically used to keep away evil spirits.
As we moved farther into the village, we entered the main square, which was bustling with activity as the villagers got ready for the evening’s Samhain festival.
The men were laying out wood for the bonfire, the women were filling tables with dishes for the feast. My stomach growled as the savory smells reached us.
“It’s been so long since I’ve participated in a bonfire for Samhain,” I whispered, clinging to Archer’s hand as he led us through the town square at a brisk pace. He didn’t slow, but he did acknowledge the few folks who called out to him, greeting him like an old friend.
“Fallow Hill still holds to most of the old traditions,” he replied. “This place is a safe-haven for our kind. A place where those who wish to can exist peacefully as their true selves.”
Looking closer, I could see what he meant.
Everywhere I looked, people were being open about who and what they were.
Two witches were standing with a female shifter, working together to hang hawthorn wreaths, while the group of men laying the fire contained several demons, working along side the witches and shifters with no animosity.
There were furies and other lesser demons, as well as some creatures that I had no name for, all working together to prepare for the season’s celebration.
And all around, children of all different factions frolicked and played, laughing together with no sign of prejudice.
I’d heard that places like this existed, places where the supernatural community lived in harmony, but I’d never, in all my travels, been to one.
It was the kind of place I’d always hoped to find. As a witch with no access to my magic, I’d longed for a community where I could be welcomed despite my differences.
Fallow Hill seemed like it could be that place.
Continuing through the square, we carried on down the lane, passing several shops selling things like charms, hex bags, and smudge bundles, and a pub Vine informed me was owned by a vampire.
As we left the hustle of the village proper, Archer led me toward a beautiful house perched on a low hill.
Looking at it, I could tell it was old, and had seen more than one addition over the years.
It was two stories, with dark shutters and a wrap-around porch, topped off with a row of dormer windows that glowed in the dark of early evening.
Surrounded by a picket fence and a walk lined with lanterns, the home looked cozy and inviting, with a beautiful garden full of herbs and what I knew would be beautiful flowers when spring came around again.
The door to the house opened and a young man stepped out onto the wide porch, his blond hair shining in the last of the day’s light.
“Finally!” he called, his expression worried. “Talk about cutting it close, Archer.”
“Chill, bro. We were always gonna make it.” Vine said, earning him an elbow from Corson. “Ouch! What was that for?” The others all ignored him.
“We ran into more difficulty than we had anticipated,” Archer said, as though what we’d been through in the last few days had only been a minor inconvenience rather than one near death experience after another. He hesitated, then added, “And we neglected to find the third piece.”
“But I see you found the witch.”
The man turned his attention toward me, his sharp blue eyes feeling as though they could see deep within my very soul.
There was something about him that was inherently sexual, his gaze washing over me in a wave of heat that was blatant and somehow not at all threatening.
I could tell right away that he was one of the most powerful incubi I had ever encountered.
That thought was reinforced when Archer wrapped his arm around my waist and hauled me against him, a low growl in his throat and possession radiating through the bond.
“I did find my witch.”
“Relax, brother,” the man chuckled, raising his hands. “I have my hands full with a woman of my own. But I sure would like an introduction.”
Archer hesitated, then took a small step back, ushering me before him but not releasing my hand.
“Asmodeus, King of Hell and High Commander of the Umbra Fratrum Legions, may I introduce Delilah Everwood.” He paused, his fingers tightening on mine before he added, “My mate.”
The words curled inside me, lighting me up with the depth of their meaning. At my throat, the collar purred, as if it were as pleased with the announcement Archer had just made as I was. The demon King eyed the collar, one eyebrow raising in surprise, but ultimately said nothing about it.
“A pleasure, my lady,” Asmodeus cooed, just to rile Archer up.
Which worked.
“And please, call me Modi. Now, show me that relic. I’ve got a deadline to meet.”
Taking a deep breath, I removed the necklace that Genevieve had given me from my pocket, the black diamond catching the light of the setting sun as it hung from the string of pearls. Modi hissed, his eyes wide as he stared at the jewel.
“Pride. Gluttony. Lust.” Modi took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he let the power of the stone was over him. “And the other pieces? Show me!”
Reaching into the neck of my shirt, I withdrew the silver chain, holding up the white diamond where it hung next to my clay pendant.
“Greed, Envy, and Wrath,” Archer offered, and Modi smiled wickedly.
“Fucking beautiful.”
“We never found the the final piece,” I admitted, disappointment creeping through me. “The piece for Sloth.” Corson and Mal had been unable to find any record of its whereabouts, leaving us all stumped.
“You didn’t need to find it,” Modi said, gesturing to my necklace. “It’s been with you all along.”
Confused, I held up the silver chain, letting the two pendants dangle from my hand next to the piece from Genevieve.
The first stone, the one from Boston, looked the same as it always had, a beautiful white diamond with a silver wire frame.
I didn’t see what Modi was talking about, but apparently Archer did.
“Impossible,” he breathed, leaning close to inspect the items I held. “Asmodeus, tell me you didn’t know this all along.”
“Know what?” Vine asked, crowding in beside Archer, one hand cradling Pandora’s pouch the same way I always did. Those two appeared to be inseparable now, and I loved that for both of them.
“You said this necklace belonged to your mother?” Archer asked, his fingers coming up to trace the symbol of the tree that was pressed into the clay.
“Yes.”
“A promise kept,” Mal said, the same words he had spoken to me in my room in New York.
“Indeed, my friend,” Modi said, then looked behind him. “Moonrise approaches. We must make haste. Delilah, if you would be so kind as to remove that necklace, I believe I can clear some things up for everyone.”
Startled, I closed my fist over the pendant, feeling a bit of panic.
“I’ve never taken it off before,” I admitted, reluctant to do it now.
“I know,” Modi said, his smile soft. “And that’s what’s kept you safe.
The power of Sloth was in its ability to hide in plain sight.
It also kept your magic bound, making it difficult for your enemies to find you.
But the time has come.” Holding out his hand, he waited, his impatience clear but he didn’t rush me.
Licking my lips, I gave the pendant one more squeeze, feeling the familiar ridges in its surface one last time, before I undid the chain and slid it off.
Modi took it, offering me another of those kind smiles, then held it up before him so that everyone could see.
“Two symbols, each representing a powerful faction. The Umbra Fratrum,” he said, showing the circle and flame symbol before turning the pendant around to show off the circle and the tree. “And the Everwood Coven. Bound together by duty and by blood.”
Suddenly, Modi closed his fist around the pendant and squeezed, causing the clay to shatter inside his strong grasp.
“No!” I cried, reaching for his hand. “That’s mine!”
My grief was a sharp cut to my heart. That necklace had been my anchor, the one proof I still belonged to something. It was also my last connection to Heidi. Now it was nothing more than dust.
What was I without it?
“Asmodeus!” Archer roared, his rage rushing through the bond in response to my sadness at the loss of my family heirloom.
“Peace!” Modi said, holding out his hand. “Look!”
We all froze, our emotions forgotten and replaced with pure shock as there in Modi’s hand, covered in the dust of the crushed clay that had concealed it, was very obviously, the third piece of the Fallen Key.
A flat silver circle each side intricately carved with the same symbols that had adorned the clay that had hidden it.
“I give you…Sloth,” Modi said, a touch of reverence in his tone.
“And it’s just been hanging out there, hiding in that clay all along?” Vine asked, shaking his head and laughing. “Such a Sloth move.”
Now that he’d revealed it, I could feel it, the slow, lazy tug of emotions that were imbued in the silver, the feeling of lethargy that emanated from it removing just about every care I had.
“Delilah,” Modi said, and I had to blink a few times to clear my head. “It’s time.”
“Absolutely not,” Archer cut in. “I will gut you where you stand.”
“I only need a few drops,” Modi protested, not at all concerned about Archer’s threat. “You know it has to be done, Leraje. It’s the only way.”
“Then I will be the one to do it.” Turning to me, Archer sighed, picking up my hand and holding it in both of his.
“My love,” he started, but I cut him off.
“It’s blood, isn’t it? He needs my blood?”
“It’s the only way to bind the pieces,” he explained, sounding truly sorry.
“Well, are we going to use my knife or yours?”
For a second he just stared at me, then a slow, dirty smile crept across his handsome face.
“You truly are my match, aren’t you?”
“Looks that way.” Holding out my hand, I watched as he transformed one finger into a sharpened claw, then pressed it into the pad of my finger, the puncture quick and nearly painless.
Not releasing my hand, Archer directed my finger over the silver pendant, squeezing a thick drop of blood onto one side, and then the other, before sliding my finger into his mouth.
His tongue traced over the wound, the forked end caressing my flesh in a way that I certainly enjoyed.
Archer hummed his satisfaction as the wound closed, then pressed a kiss to my palm, leaving me breathless.
“Now the diamonds,” Modi pressed, his eye on the horizon. “Quickly.”
I passed him both stones, and he muttered several words that I didn’t know before pressing them to each side of the silver pendant.
In an instant, there was a wave of magic, a pressure like a sonic boom, and I was nearly knocked off my feet.
The shockwave rolled outward in a ring of light, rattling the shutters, guttering the lanterns, and sending a shiver through the very bones of the earth.
The air smelled sharp and metallic, like lightning striking too close.
For a long heartbeat, none of us breathed.
Looking down, I could see that the diamonds were no longer separate pieces, but instead had fused into one solid piece now locked within the silver circle.
The white diamond and the black, light and dark, neither possible without the other.
Power throbbed from the relic in Modi’s hand, not wild and fractured anymore but whole, focused, eternal.
And yet I felt it in me, too. A pull, low and steady, thrumming in time with my heartbeat.
My blood was a part of it, binding the pieces together, and for that moment it recognized me as its anchor.
The Key called to me like a distant echo, not demanding, not devouring—only acknowledging my part in its creation.
Archer’s hand closed around mine, his grip tight, yet steady. His love flowed through the bond, wrapping me in iron and fire, steadying me as my chest tightened.
“It is done,” Modi murmured, his voice filled with awe. “The Key is bound.”
And with those words, the weight of it shifted from me. The relic no longer tugged at my soul. It belonged to Modi now—his burden, his destiny.
Around us, quiet lingered, with only the wind through the pines to break the silence. Even Vine’s grin had faltered, replaced with something raw and reverent. Corson muttered under his breath, and Mal clung to his compass, his eyes on the sky.
Down the hill, the revelry in Fallow Hill continued, villagers laughing and singing around the bonfire, their voices carrying like ghosts through the pines. They didn’t know the air had changed, that the world had shifted.
I stared at the relic in Modi’s hand, its pulse steady, insistent, alive. We had chased it across cities, across blood and shadow, to Hell and back, and now it was whole.
The Fallen Key.
Whatever came next belonged to Asmodeus, because our part was done.