Chapter 41 Requiem
Requiem
CLAIRE
The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t inside the fort, watching Shayla guzzle a potion given to her by one of her witches before transforming into a werewolf. I wasn’t even lying in the cold mud. Face up. I wasn’t even holding Bastien’s dagger.
I was lying on something soft, and the air was thick with incense smoke. I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the biting scent of frankincense. Above my head, the vaulted ceiling stretched on and on.
Sitting up too fast, I groaned against the sudden dizziness. What had happened? The last thing I remembered was collapsing onto the ground. Blood was everywhere.
I lifted trembling fingers to my throat, and I realized the choker was gone. The only thing left behind were the ridges of scars. I was still wearing my bloodstone. I wrapped my hands around it and closed my eyes, hoping to call Bastien to me.
Maybe I had survived. Maybe Mama’s blood had worked, and I’d been put here to recover. Yes, maybe Bastien was simply in another room.
"She’s awake," came a gruff, annoyingly familiar voice.
Even though I didn’t want to, I turned toward the sound, clutching the bloodstone in my palm like it could protect me when Bastien couldn’t. I found myself in an elegant private dining room, lit by red-tapered candles dripping wax from iron candelabras.
"We were just talking about you, love."
Sitting at a polished obsidian dining table, set with plates of food and goblets filled with deep red wine, were two men.
The first, I recognized instantly. Black curls and a single horn framed a face that looked far too pleased with himself.
He still wore no shirt or cravat beneath his black jacket.
Gorrath.
But I thought he’d died. Mama had killed him. If that were true, then that meant I was in... the Underworld.
No. No. No. No. No.
I couldn’t have died. I clutched my stomach, tears swimming in my eyes.
I’d lost everything. Everything. The sounds that came out of my mouth were inhuman.
Screeches. Wails. I felt nothing and everything all at once.
A loss so profound I could hardly breathe.
I went on for what felt like hours. Crying and sobbing and screaming until there was nothing left inside of me.
Until, finally, I covered my face with my hands and closed my eyes.
A chair scraped loudly against the floor. Footsteps. Then I sensed the demon hovering over me.
“You’re not going to let a little thing like death stop you? Are you?” I pulled my hands away from my face to glare at him. He was clearly amused by my reaction. “Come sit down at the table. I want to introduce you to an ol’ friend of mine.”
I peered around Gorrath’s frame to see who this friend was. He was a collection of hard edges and sharp lines, including the two black horns that spiraled from his brow.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him with his wine glass. "Eat. Death has a way of making one hungry. Or, at least, that’s what I hear."
Gorrath offered me his hand. “That’s the God of the Underworld. Damien himself. Best not to keep him waiting.”
My mouth fell open in shock. I couldn’t believe that was Damien.
He hardly looked like a god at all. With mousy brown hair and dark gray eyes, he looked very ordinary, save for the horns.
In all of Mama’s stories about the God of the Underworld, he was a monster.
With burning pits for eyes. And he ate only the blood of children.
But here he sat, sipping wine.
Hesitantly, I let Gorrath help me to my feet and shuffled over to the table. I took the seat directly across from Damien. I sat stiffly, barely touching the edge of the chair, every muscle in my body coiled. The food in front of me smelled delicious, but I had no appetite.
I was sitting across from a god. One I had only ever prayed to once before, when I asked him to make me unbreakable.
“What do you want with me?” I asked. Bowing my head. Folding my hands in my lap.
He considered me for a moment, then said, “You have performed an immortality spell. Have you not?”
Confused, I glanced at Gorrath, who had taken a seat in the chair beside Damien. He grabbed a knife and a fork and immediately began carving into a piece of rare beef. The way blood oozed from the center made my stomach flip.
“Yes,” I answered. “But it must not have worked.”
Damien’s mouth curled into a slow and knowing smile like he had been waiting for this moment. “Every immortal must sacrifice their life. Your husband did. Gorrath did. And so did every demon in my court and every star in Diana’s. It is how immortality begins.”
A slow, hopeful smile spread across my face. “Are you saying that it worked? That I broke the curse and became immortal?”
Damien nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”
I nearly leapt out of my chair. I was going to go back home. To Bastien. To my life.
Damien watched me with a quiet, patient amusement as the excitement warmed every place that had gone numb and cold inside me. He propped one arm on the back of Gorrath’s chair. “I can see why she won you over. The want inside of her is endless.”
Gorrath nodded. “She is a true Dark Witch. Not one of those pretenders. Dressing in black and waving around relics like they know what darkness means.” He lifted his wine glass in appreciation. “She’s got a shard of darkness inside her.”
The way the two of them beamed back at me stoked the growing pride in my chest. After everything I’d been through… after all of it… I was finally going to keep him. I was going to spend eternity with Bastien.
“There is one thing you should know,” Damien said. “Immortality comes with a price.”
I stilled, the excitement slipping out of me. “What kind of price?”
“First of all,” Damien began, “you would no longer be a Witch of the Darkness.”
Absently, I twirled a few strands of hair around my fingers. I didn’t know what to say. I’d only just gotten my magick. I’d only just started figuring out my powers. The idea that they would just be gone left me feeling hollow all over again. “What would I be then?”
Silence settled around the table, and dread crept in. “Well, that’s the thing you could choose,” Damien continued. “You could become a demon of my court. You’d be more than welcome here. However, you’d no longer carry Gorrath’s power. We’d select something new for you.”
I knew I was sitting across from a god, so I tried to retain a bit of respect, but a demon? He was telling me that I’d done all this—collected Mama’s blood and jumped out of that carriage—just to become a demon?
“Is there another choice?” I asked.
Damien expelled a sigh, as if disappointed that I didn’t want to join him in the Underworld for eternity. “Your only other option would be to go back as a vampire. However, all the rules of vampirism would apply to you. Including drinking blood.”
I let out a breath of relief. There was another way.
“And you’d be subject to the matebond.”
“I already have a mate,” I said. “Bastien. You know this.”
He gave the barest shake of his head. “I’m afraid two vampires cannot be mated to one another. You see, they cannot bear children.”
I glowered at Gorrath, who was shoving a piece of raw meat in his mouth. “Did you know this would happen when you sold me the idea of becoming immortal? Did you know what I would have to give up?”
My baby? My magick? Bastien? Everything?
Gorrath shook his head. Hands raised in the air. Mouth full, he said, “I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t.” Desperate, he turned to Damien. “Tell her I didn’t know.”
“He didn’t know,” Damien affirmed. “These are my rules for immortality.”
Gorrath swallowed down his large chunk of meat, eyes locked with mine. “There’s gotta be another way.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Could she trade immortality for her mortal life back?”
My breath was caged in my chest. Yes. I would trade anything, anything to have my life back. Immortality was nothing if I couldn’t have him.
Damien tapped his lip in thought. “That is a possibility,” he finally said. “Yes, I think I could make that work. A trade then. Her gift of immortality in exchange for her mortal life.”
I rose and extended my hand. “Agreed. Take my immortality and give me my life back.”
Damien arched a dark brow. “So quick to give up forever just for some magick and a mate? If you went back as a vampire, you’d feel just as passionately about someone else.”
He might be a god, but he knew nothing about love. “Respectfully, no I wouldn’t.”
Damien stood as well and shook my hand. “Then we have a deal.”
A sense of relief washed over me once again. I wouldn’t be immortal. But I would have one life with Bastien. One good life. Until, of course, I was reborn, and we’d be able to find each other again. This time, Bastien wouldn’t hesitate to search for me once his bloodstone indicated I’d been born.
“Should we drink, then?” Damien asked, nodding to the goblet placed before me. “To your good health.”
I lifted my glass to theirs and then took a sip. It was the most delicious wine I’d ever tasted. I savored the flavor, then set the glass back down. Anxious excitement to return to Bastien was collecting in my chest.
“There’s someone who asked to see you before you leave,” Gorrath said. He waved, and a set of doors opened. For a moment I didn’t understand what I was looking at. Then all at once, I did.
Devlinn.
He was whole and well. Not a speck of rot to be seen.
I opened my mouth to scream, to sob, to say his name, but nothing came out.
My body moved before my mind could catch up.
I crossed the black marble floor in a blur and collided with him, my arms locking around his shoulders as if he might disappear.
“It’s good to see you too, Claire,” he said with his familiar dry humor.
“I’m sorry,” I choked. “I’m so sorry.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Sorry for what?”
“For everything,” I said. “For Mellie. For pushing her. For not stopping it. For not being fast enough—”