Chapter 5
Oziel
Ender bristles at my question, then relaxes his body—as much as he’s capable of doing—and nods.
“I won’t take up much of your time. I’m certain you are eager to get home, as much as I’m eager to get to know my new wife.”
My pretty little human.
Hair the color of shadows and lips the shade of fresh blood. Her skin pale like the moon. A wicked tongue that slices me with her words. She’s intriguing and will be fun to torment, but my concern at this time isn’t with Isabelle. It’s with the creature in front of me.
Ender, or more appropriately, his title, The Guardian, is an enigma to me.
As far as I know, he’s the only one of his kind and the only person who can pass through the human world into ours.
Yet, he never stays in Mescos for long, opting to live in solitude in the human world.
He’s an ancient creature; power settles dormant over him.
We don’t know if there were more of him, but most assume there was.
The real question is what happened to them, and why is Ender the only one left?
I have questions. Many questions.
“We are in the midst of a war, Ender.”
The Guardian nods slowly, showing no emotion.
I’ve seen little from this man and taste nothing but emptiness wafting off him.
Demons have a keen awareness of emotions.
We feed off them. Use them to our advantage to always have the upper hand.
But Ender is giving me nothing. It’s as if he’s locked his emotions away and sealed them shut.
Curious.
“I have faith the kings of Mescos will prosper against Gadreel and his army,” Ender says in a way that’s far too casual for talks of wars.
“As long as you continue to bring us our wives,” I say.
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?”
Something akin to confusion flickers in Ender’s smoky eyes. His head tilts slightly, eyes roaming over me. “Why what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ender. We both know you are the furthest thing from it.”
Ender balls his hands into fists and then slowly unfurls them. “You will not win this war if you do not have the love of your human. The Great War is proof of that.”
“Then help us. You seem to know a lot about a war you have no stakes in. Of course, perhaps you have the most to lose…” I trail off, waiting for his reaction.
A tightening jaw and clenched hands are his only response. This man is good. Too good. Which means the secret—because there has to be one he’s hiding—is big. Life-altering even.
“Are we done here? I must be—”
“We caught a Nephilim,” I interrupt him.
Finally, I get a reaction from him. He freezes, mouth slightly agape. He’s quick to school his features back to his normal stoic expression, but not before I catch the change. “Have you?”
“Mhm,” I hum. “Come with me to visit our captive.”
I don’t give Ender the opportunity to say no, but he’s more than capable of leaving if he chooses to. I can’t stop him, but I’m nothing if not a gambling man. I turn my back on Ender and make my way to the castle. The soft crunch of his footfalls behind me says his curiosity won.
We walk in silence through my front entrance.
A few of my demons linger in the shadows, their attention focused on the horned stranger at my flank.
Ender was a warning whispered in the shadows.
A rumor mill with never-ending stories. Now he is flesh and bones.
Real. It’s easy to see the merit in those stories now.
We reach a curved red door at the end of a dark hall, the only splash of color in an otherwise black palette.
I wave my hand, and it clicks twice before opening.
Immediately, we’re hit with the scent of sulfur and decay.
I’ve smelled it thousands of times, but it never gets pleasant.
The prison carries the tang of iron too, from centuries of spilled blood coating the floor.
“This way,” I direct and start down the spiral staircase. There are no sconces lighting our way, which is intentional. The prison was designed to confuse the prisoners and play with their senses. It’s impossible to navigate unless you know every single inch of this prison like I do.
It takes ten minutes to reach the bottom, far beneath the castle.
The prison is a cavernous, sprawling expanse carved deep below the earth, its jagged, uneven walls glistening with a slick sheen of moisture.
Torches flicker with an unnatural flame as I pass, casting eerie, shifting shadows.
Chains dangle from the ceiling, their metal gleaming faintly in the dim light.
The temperature shifts from uncomfortably hot to painfully freezing, never allowing a body to get used to the extremes.
Howls and screams from the imprisoned echo off the walls, creating a sinister melody of the damned.
I absolutely love it.
The prison is made up of multiple levels, all dealing different intensities of torture.
Other kingdoms send their criminals here when they no longer want to deal with them or when they no longer have the capacity to punish them properly.
We take in their prisoners eagerly, feeding on their hatred and fear. It’s a game for us. A spectacle.
But I digress into my own thoughts. We’ve come down for one purpose and one purpose only.
The Nephilim. Five guards stand in front of a cage with bars crafted from bones and steel.
It’s too dark to see inside the cell, but when I clap my hands, fire growls to life around the cell.
Violent blue flames dance in the air, licking at the bars of captivity.
At first, the cell looks empty except for a pile of charred remains in the center.
I don’t remember a burning taking place, but it’s not uncommon for my demons to take torture too far.
Death happens. It’s a mercy, really. They are no longer suffering at our hands, but if these charred remains are the Nephilim I told to keep alive, these men will all die for defying my orders.
Luckily for them, the thing on the floor moves, elongating on the stone floor.
What may have once been wings stretch out behind the creature.
Black feathers sparsely decorate the appendages, giving hints at what once was.
The creature is probably very tall, but the cage only stands at a height of six feet.
Even sitting, the creature crouches, blood-red eyes boring into me.
A low hiss leaves the creature’s dry lips, followed by a growl that could only be described as frustrated. Possibly pained, or a mixture of the two.
“It has been a long time,” Ender says from behind me. His voice is wistful, far away as if thinking of a different time. Oh, to be able to slip into his mind. Even for a second…
“How did you capture it?” I take my eyes off Ender long enough to speak to the demon guard with red skin and emerald-green eyes. Brunoth, I believe.
Brunoth takes a step forward. “The creature was alone, straying away from the others. We did as you instructed, attacked as a group until the Nephilim fell. We drugged it to keep it unconscious until we got it here. It’s still drugged, but only enough to keep it docile.”
“So, the mighty do fall,” I comment. “Has it said anything to you?”
Brunoth nods. “Screamed a lot. But we haven’t been able to talk to it.”
“And you will not be able to.” Both our heads turn to the voice. Ender doesn’t meet our stares, continuing to look upon the captured beast. “Only Gadreel can communicate with you. This is just a soldier. They don’t communicate in the same way.”
“Ah, wonderful. We trapped the Nephilim for nothing.” I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t say that.” Again, his cryptic voice booms around us, drowning out the cries of the others. “I said you couldn’t communicate with them.”
The Guardian speaks in riddles, but there’s always truth hiding in his words. I mull them over, tasting them on my tongue. Slowly, I say, “I cannot communicate with them.” Ender nods. “But someone else can.”
This time, Ender doesn’t speak.
Damn him.
“Ender—”
“I must go,” The Guardian says, stepping away from the fire. Perhaps it’s the lighting, but Ender looks paler than usual. His ashy gray skin is nearly white, and he lacks all decorum as he stumbles back. “Remember your contract with Miss Sinclair. I expect you to uphold it.”
I’m a demon. We deal in contracts and bargains. I’m fully aware of what I agreed to.
I don’t get the chance to say so because Ender has opened a portal. Magic and something darker hum from the other side. I yearn for the power to open portals to the human world like all kings of Mescos once before. Gadreel and the Nephilim took that away from us.
I watch Ender disappear, the other side engulfing his body until he’s nothing but a memory, emptiness where he once stood. Despite his abrupt departure, I got more than I hoped for during this short visit. His words replay in my mind over and over again.
I said you couldn’t communicate with them.
Perhaps I can’t, but I have a theory of who might.