37. Tassarion
Tassarion
Surrounded on all sides, I was rooted to the stone, unbothered.
I’d lived in the Hèls and survived.
Zemshaza would have to do worse than this t break me.
A slight movement in my periphery again caught my attention. This time I snuck a peek. The curtains of the bedchamber I remember belonged to Yvette fluttered. The bedchamber right next to it also had movement, which meant one thing.
Saccarièl was there.
I looked up at the descending ashbats. Down at the running bloodhounds. A steadying breath reminded me I wasn’t alone. The Infinite was with me. My wingmate’s fire was in me.
And...
“Obi! Now!”
Every single Gargorètti burst out of their hiding places in the Beauradèl Wood, rushing in a coordinated wave towards the ashbats.
I leapt into the air, snapped my body downward, and landed on the stone below hard at the same time Obsidian led the vicious attack against the ashbats above.
The cacophonous sound was like a series of explosives erupting, deafening in the air.
Bloodhounds rushed me from all sides. I swooped around and slammed my wings into the ground.
A war cry for the army of souls hiding in the stones.
“Tassarion Everthorn!” Zemshaza bellowed. “I will drag your carcass back to your cell and remind you of what happens when you disobey?—”
A resounding crack snagged my attention. I looked up and found Obsidian had punched Marcèllian’s face so hard the gargoyle’s stone hand left a bloody, bony print. Marcèllian choked on his blood. I grinned at Obsidian, whose eyes flashed amber at me like hot coals.
“He talks too much.”
I snorted. Looking back at the stone, I waited another moment.
Then I jerked my arm backward. The army of souls flooded from the stones, shooting out an innumerable count, plunging into every bloodhound that rushed into the garden. The more hounds came, the more souls surged. I was growing tired, but I pushed through, pushing myself to my limits.
Drawing on blackfire would certainly come at a cost. I couldn’t fathom how Nahomie dealt with all of this power every dawn without losing control. Without losing her mind.
Still, I used it.
It felt like she was here with me, helping me face the unthinkable.
A bloodhound lunged at me. It caught my arm between its long teeth. I howled, unable to shake off the demonized dog. I punched down, crushing the skull of the bloodhound gripping my arm. Another bloodhound latched onto me. I grabbed it by the neck, snapping it in two quick motions.
When the souls finished plunging into the bloodhounds, I began my song.
My souls came to life within the bloodhounds, falling into a bloodthirsty frenzy.
In one motion, every bloodhound grew unnaturally still.
Then the souls ravaged the bloodhounds from the inside out.
As the bloodhounds tumbled into an uncontrollable fray of madness, the Gargorètti tore through the ashbats like they were toys. Blood and bone fell from the sky. The stench of blood tainted the air. Death colored the Beauradèl courtyard black.
I scanned the yard to find Marcèllian’s body. His eyes were hazel again. The traitor had regained control of his body from Zemshaza. Marcèllian crawled along the stone, trying to sneak off to the estate. I chuckled, tutting as I watched him sneak off on his torn knees.
“Now, Marcèllian,” I slid my hands into my pockets as if we were out for mid-dawn kafé. “You wouldn’t be trying to warn Yvette...” I paused for dramatic effect. Marcèllian ignored me and kept crawling. “And Saccarièl,” I purred. The traitorous piece of rot froze in place. “Would you?”
Marcèllian whipped around.
What I saw on his face was glorious.
That was true, unadulterated fear I saw swimming in his eyes. And I reveled in it.
He’d kept his bibi a secret. But thanks to the infinite, I knew about his son’s existence and his whereabouts. As my souls ravaged the bloodhounds, and my gargoyles eviscerated the ashbats, I lifted my arms, flexed my hands, and launched a vortex of souls towards the manor.
“NO!” Marcèllian screamed.
Screaming at the top of their lungs in shrill voices, the chains of my souls dragged both Yvette and Saccarièl from their bedchambers. Marcèllian howled unintelligibly. I snapped my hand, using my souls to chain him in place.
“Tassarion!” a savage howl. “You will bend your will to mine.”
Zemshaza had resurfaced, taking over Marcèllian.
Except I didn’t need Zemshaza.
I needed Marcèllian.
I shot a blast of souls fused with backfire at Marcèllian’s chest. Using the ethèr almost brought me to my knees. Again, I marveled at Nahomie’s strength. How in the rot did she deal with all of this crippling power every single dawn?
Zemshaza screamed through Marcèllian. The unholy sound rang out all over the courtyard.
Then, one by one, every ashbat and bloodhound dropped dead, their carcasses tumbling to the ground. It was some time before an eerie silence covered the blood-soaked garden.
“Please.”
The weak whimper came from the true Marcèllian. He was broken and battered. Bruised. Bloodied. I drug a screaming Yvette, and thrashing Saccarièl, to the stone ground as they both begged to be released.
“Marcèllian, you should have known. When angels play God, the consequence is always death.”
I strolled towards him, blood staining my leathers, most of which wasn’t mine. My wings and cape dragged over blood, bone, and dirt.
“I am malicious, Marcèllian, because you made me, miserable, asheating wretch.”
When I reached his crumpled, pathetic form, I jerked back my foot and crushed my boot into his skull. He spat out a wad of blood, crumpling to the ground like the disgusting pest he was.
“You chose to be the creator of my pain, my misery, you blasphemous dog.”
I grabbed him by the collar of his blood-stained tunic.
“But now I am your master, and I will break you like the slave of the Hèls that you are.”
I wrapped my fingers around his neck, then squeezed, choking off his airflow.
“Please,” Yvette begged. “Please, I am begging you, Roi Tassarion. Have mercy. Am I not your constituent? Am I not to have the right to plead my cause? My innocence? My Papi’s actions were treacherous. But why am I to pay for his sins?”
I turned to look at Yvette. Her legs swung in the air where I held her by souls. Her hair and eyes were wild, and her skin dull and dark. She wouldn’t stop crying. The sound grated on my last nerve. Pathetic. The entire lot. Saccarièl mouthed off profanities.
I’d had enough.
Leave none behind.
“You crushed my soul by robbing me of every good thing in this life. My family. My islanders. Our home and land, molested by your greed and betrayal.” I snarled, squeezing Marcèllian’s throat again. “Before you die, you will share in my suffering.”
“Please,” Marcèllian wheezed, clutching at his neck.
I ignored him. I looked first at Yvette, then Saccarièl.
“This will be the last thing you see before I rip out your eyes and burn your carcass to ashes.”
I raised my free hand and began my song of summoning.
Souls swarmed the Beauradèl younglings.
“Blood for blood, Marcèllian Beauradèl.”
“NO,” the angel wheezed through my grip on his neck.
“You never should have put your hands on my wife.”
I opened my free palm, then fisted it.
“Blood. For. Blood.”
The souls opened their mouths and sank their ghostly teeth into Yvette and Saccarièl.
Like vicious demons, my souls feasted. Golden blood poured like a river from mouths, nostrils, eyes, and ears.
Yvette and Saccarièl screamed and thrashed until their movements slowed.
Until their voices grew faint. Until they screamed their last and died.
“No,” Marcèllian whimpered, tears staining his cheeks.
“A glorious sight, wouldn’t you say?”
I laughed low and dark. Then I turned the full might of my wrath on Marcèllian.
“Blood for blood, you insolent bastard of the Six Hèls.”
I shoved my fingers into his right eye, pushed into the socket, and ripped it out.
As my Gargorètti encircled me, I shoved my fingers into the other eye and ripped that one out, too.
I summoned my souls with blackfire, formed a long sword, and shoved it so far deep into Marcèllian’s stomach, it protruded out of his spine.
I yanked out the sword, the blood making a wet, sucking sound as the blade slid through Marcèllian’s bones. Then his carcass fell to the ground.
An unnatural strength filled my limbs. I leaned on it as I pulled on a wealth of blackfire I knew would come with a cost. I growled, loud and fierce, joined in by my Gargorètti.
I set every inch of Beauradèl land on fire.
Black flame with lavender stars raced through the manor, the garden, every courtyard, and the surrounding property.
The fire burned down the Beauradèl Wood.
Then my strength broke. Obsidian took hold of my arm.
Coralai came to my other side, upholding me.
I watched with triumph. After eight hundred cycles, I’d finally avenged my family, my island, and now, my bride.
As everything burned, I found myself in tears.
As I watched the flames, I mourned Manmi. Papi. Vitani. Tovares. I mourned all that we had. All that we lost. I mourned my crown. My citizens. The Everthorn legacy. I mourned all the damage done by the Fallen Angels. My Gargorètti surrounded me like a protective shield as I sobbed.
“I will never understand why you made me into the monster who had to destroy you,” I whispered to the flames.
“But I can assure you, Marcèllian Beauradèl, I will never regret bathing the earth with your blood. I promise on the bond to my wingmate, I will blot out your very memory from this soil. Your name will forever be a curse. And I hope that your kin all rot in the lowest parts of the Six Hèls.”
I turned away, finally free of this Hèls, once and for all.
“Let’s go home.”
The Gargorètti clapped their wings and hooted.
“Awoui, mi Roi. Let’s go home!”