Chapter 48 Survive an Abduction Attempt
(by Becoming the Scarier Villain)
Arabella
The last kidnappings went as expected, and a day later I made my way along a moonlit beach, waiting for the Sky Serpent.
Assuming it had dropped off its passengers and turned right back, it would arrive any minute.
The Moonbay family had been surprisingly cooperative once I’d mentioned the word “plague.” Nothing motivated nobility quite like the threat of pustules. Now I just needed a moment to myself.
Above, Nyx’s shadow blotted out stars as she circled, her wingspan casting moving patches of darkness across the silver-touched waves.
She was making sure no one left the beach, though all of them were too petrified to wander far.
The shadow warriors flanked me as I explored, their forms rippling at the edges where moonlight tried to define them.
Magic slammed into me from seemingly nowhere.
The impact sent me staggering, and before I could regain my footing, a spell wrapped around me, so heavy that the air compressed until it made it hard to breathe. I spun toward the tree line, magic crackling around my hands, ready to strike at whoever dared—
“Lady Blackrose.” Zaraiah stepped out from behind a cluster of palms. She wore dark traveling leathers instead of her usual provocative gowns, her short-cropped hair accentuating the classic beauty of her face. “How delightful to find you here. And alone, it seems.”
Fuck.
She’d sworn she wasn’t involved in the assassination attempt, that she preferred her enemies “alive and suffering.” Kaz had stopped me from killing her.
Apparently, we should have gone with my instincts.
A forgettable man emerged beside her—average height, brown hair, the kind of face your eyes wanted to skip over. Every instinct screamed danger.
“Shadow warriors!” I commanded, but nothing happened. They flickered at the edges of my vision, still visible but suddenly unreachable through what felt like an invisible wall. I tried again, pulling at the bindings Kaz had placed, but it was like grasping smoke.
Fine. I’d handle this myself.
I launched a spear of shadow at Zaraiah’s smirking face, but it shattered against something I couldn’t see. A follow-up blast of light magic met the same fate.
“What the—” Then I saw it. Barely visible in the moonlight, a shimmer in the air. A perfect dome surrounding me, cutting me off from everything outside.
“Impressive,” I admitted, testing the magic. It was elegant work, clearly designed specifically for me. “How long did it take you to craft it?”
“Weeks.” She preened. “I had my mages start working on it as soon as I left Skyspire. I knew eventually I’d get you alone, away from his protection. Men like Kazimir always think they can shield their toys forever.”
“I’m not his toy.”
Her laugh was harsh. “Don’t be naive, darling. Kazimir doesn’t do partnerships. He does ownership.”
The man behind her shifted, and I caught something familiar in the movement. Something that made my blood run cold even before my brain processed why.
“Did you send the assassins, after all?” I asked, buying time while Nyx circled closer overhead. She’d sensed something was wrong and was assessing. “At the God Spire?”
Zaraiah’s perfect nose wrinkled. “That? No. That was Garrick’s idiotic attempt. I could have told him it wouldn’t work, if he’d only asked.”
The Chair of Death. I would have thought he was better at his job. “Then why—”
“Because I have a better plan.” She stepped closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. “I’m turning you over to Auremar.”
My heart stuttered. “What?”
“Oh yes. His Majesty is very interested in acquiring Arabella Blackrose, and the rewards for delivering you will be substantial.”
“The Syndicate—”
“—is done with your husband.” She examined her nails with affected casualness. “The other chairs decided Kazimir has become too much of a wild card. Too powerful. Too unpredictable. And far too obsessed with you to think clearly. Shutting down the Spire proved that.”
And what about the Alchemist? What part did they play in this?
“The Syndicate won’t dare move against him directly,” I said.
“Not yet. But when Kazimir realizes his precious wife is in enemy hands?” She tilted her head.
“He’ll come for you. Recklessly. Emotionally.
Right into whatever trap Auremar sets. The Syndicate will watch from the sidelines as the Dark Lord destroys himself trying to save you.
Then they’ll divide up his territories like civilized villains should. ”
“You’re betting everything on him caring that much.”
Her smile turned vicious. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only real thing in his world. Men like Kazimir don’t love often, but when they do?” She laughed. “It destroys them. The Syndicate knows this. So why fight him directly when his weakness is standing right here?”
I probed the dome again with my magic. “What makes you think I’ll let you use me in that way?”
“Because I know exactly what you are.” She moved closer, until she stood just outside the barrier. “A sheltered girl playing at darkness. A healer pretending to be a killer. You might fool others with your dramatic displays, but I see through you.”
The forgettable man behind her stepped into the moonlight, and his features rippled. For a moment, he wore the face of Dean Mortifax from the Academia. I barely felt surprised before that face melted away, revealing freckled cheeks, tousled brown hair, and wide, darting eyes.
“Pip,” I said, shocked.
“Not Pip,” he said, and even his voice was different—deeper, with an accent I couldn’t place.
“Never was Pip. That boy died on the road to Skyspire over two years ago. Barely worth the effort to consume, but his invitation to serve the Dark Lord?” He smiled, and too many teeth showed. “That was worth everything.”
My stomach turned. A doppelganger. A fucking doppelganger had been living at Skyspire.
Parasitic demons, the lowest and most reviled of their kind—creatures that survived by literally consuming their victims from the inside out.
They didn’t just steal faces; they devoured memories, mannerisms, even opinions, wearing the digested remains of a person’s entire existence like an outer shell.
The real Pip’s thoughts, his nervousness, his memories of his carpenter master—all of it had been absorbed and puppeteered by this thing for two years.
No wonder my truth-sense had never caught him. The demon wasn’t lying about being Pip—it was Pip, in the most grotesque way possible.
“Kazimir was right.” The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. “You let the Hero’s Guild in.”
“Among other things.” He studied me. “You have no idea how tedious it was, playing the nervous servant. Watching. Waiting. Learning every secret passage, every weakness.” His form rippled again. “Then you arrived, and suddenly the Dark Lord had much more interesting vulnerabilities.”
“Why?” My voice came out raw. “Why go to all that trouble?”
His face went hard as stone. “Because fifteen years ago, Kazimir Blackrose seduced and murdered my liege. My creator. The demon prince Malphas.”
Oh.
Oh fuck.
The demon’s words hit me like ice water, then immediately boiled into rage. Magic crackled around my hands.
“Your liege?” The word tasted like poison. “The demon who bought him? Who enslaved a seventeen-year-old?” My voice rose to a near shriek. “Who did gods-know-what to him while he was chained and powerless?”
The doppelganger’s form flickered with rage. “He tore Malphas apart from the inside out. Then burned half the demon realm on his way out.” His hands clenched. “I spent years rebuilding what he destroyed. Years plotting the perfect revenge.”
I laughed, sharp and bitter. “Your precious Malphas got exactly what he deserved. Actually, no—he got off easy. If I’d been there, I would have made it last weeks.”
“You dare—” The doppelganger’s features twisted, cycling through faces I didn’t recognize, each one contorted with fury.
“Malphas was royalty! A prince of the demon realm! And your husband seduced him, made him believe—” He choked on his own rage.
“Then ripped him apart while he was vulnerable, while he thought they were—”
“Good!” I snarled, my magic flaring brighter. “I hope it hurt. I hope he died knowing exactly how it felt to be powerless and used. Just like he did to Kaz.”
The doppelganger took a step forward, his form rippling with barely contained violence. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what he became. The thing that walked out of that realm wasn’t human anymore. Your precious Dark Lord is more than man.”
“And every twisted, broken piece of him belongs to me now,” I spat back. “Every scar, every shadow, every bit of darkness your master carved into him—they’re mine to protect. Mine to defend. And I’ll destroy anyone who thinks they have a claim on him.”
Zaraiah stepped closer to the barrier as if unwilling to be left out of the equation.
“Such passion.” Her voice dripped false sweetness.
“And how convenient for me. You see, after Kazimir spurned me, I went digging for information about our dear Dark Lord. Imagine my delight when I found someone”—she gestured to the doppelganger—“with both the means and motivation to help bring him down.”
I remembered that conversation with Pip—or what I’d thought was Pip—about the “Incident That Shall Not Be Named.” He’d mentioned a demon. It was hardly outside the realm of kitchen gossip, so I hadn’t thought much about it. But it hadn’t been gossip, had it? It was inside information.
“You were trying to drive a wedge between us,” I said to him.
The doppelganger’s lips pulled back in half snarl, half smile.
“It should have worked. Most women would run screaming if they knew the details of what he did to Malphas. The way he laughed as my master died.” His fingers twitched, as if imagining wrapping them around my throat.
“I figured you’d ask the Dark Lord about it and stir up trouble. ”