Chapter 17
Isabelle
Oziel simmers in quiet anger as the kings file out.
The one with the locs turns back once more, but whatever he wishes to say is silenced by murmurs from his guard.
A moment later, I’m left alone with my husband.
I don’t have to be a mind reader to know he doesn’t like the outcome of today’s meeting.
I don’t know why I feel responsible for making him feel better either.
My hand is still on his knee. How long has it been there? I don’t remember reaching out to him, and now that I know, I should pull away. Except I don’t. I squeeze his knee.
Oziel raises his head, his golden eyes meeting my stare. He holds his tension in his jaw and shoulders. He’s good at wearing a mask of indifference, but when you truly take the time to look, the cracks in his armor are apparent.
“You aren’t satisfied with how it went.” It’s not a question, but Oziel nods anyway. “What did you hope for?”
“That they wouldn’t be blinded by love and do what needs to be done.” His words sting, but I can’t make sense of why. Our marriage is a contract with an end date. The other women may have found love, but it’s not something I desire. I don’t want to be caged like Anna.
“We don’t need them,” I say after a moment of silence. Oziel arches a brow, not fully convinced. “We don’t. You have me. I can talk to the Nephilim, and you’ll be there to pull me back if I get too close. We can do this, Oziel. You aren’t going to let me get hurt.”
I have nothing to back up my statement. Quite the opposite, actually. Everything about the demon king points at him either hurting or betraying me, and yet I don’t believe any harm will come to me. Oziel needs me too much. As long as I’m useful, I’m safe.
“No, Kitten, you won’t be harmed in my care.
Unless I will it. But make no mistake. If I offer you pain, it will be because you want it.
” There’s a seductive quality to his voice that has me pressing my thighs tightly together.
I have no doubt Oziel is capable of causing me pain, and my body’s instinct is to get turned on.
I’m fucking broken. Something in my head is wrong to get off on the idea of pain.
Ignoring his words for now, I push off the chair and let my hand drop from his knee. Before it falls to my side, Oziel’s hand shoots out and takes my hand in his. He gives me a moment to pull away, but his touch interests me too much, so I let him.
“Take me to the Nephilim, Oziel. We won’t get help from the others, so let me speak to it.”
I’m prepared to fight his refusal, but his next words kill the protests on my lips. “Very well, Miss Sinclair. Let’s go speak to our cursed friend, shall we?”
The dungeon is eerily quiet by the time we reach the bottom step.
Next to me, Oziel murmurs, “Lucifer Rising,” and drops my hand, storming off toward something I can’t see.
It takes my eyes a moment longer to adjust to the dim light that roars to life in the room when we enter, and I see the reason Oziel is upset.
In the corner, next to the cell holding the Nephilim is a statue of a man. He’s crouched with his sword drawn, frozen in a state of confusion. “Is that…?
“The guard assigned to the Nephilim, yes,” Oziel finishes for me. “That’s the second one today.”
“Second? There was another?”
“Greta.”
“Oh.” The maid who helped prepare me for my wedding ceremony. Can’t say I’m overly saddened by the news, but it’s still terrifying to hear. She was fine just days ago, and now she’s stone, which begs the question, is anyone safe?
No, not until the Nephilim are defeated and the curse is broken.
I approach the Nephilim’s cell, but Oziel stops me from getting too close. My husband’s fast. He was on the opposite side of the room a moment ago, and the next, he’s near me, pulling me back against his chest. “Talk to it, but I won’t allow you to get any closer to its cell.”
“Fine,” I huff with no true malice behind my words. I wait for him to let go of me, but Oziel’s hold stays firm.
I don’t have time to focus on his touch because a low growl fills the room, followed by movement from the cell.
Fire roars to life on the floor to surround the cell, temporarily blinding me.
When my vision comes to, I involuntarily gasp at the terrible creature before me.
There’s a low rumble like a purr, and it takes me a moment to realize the Nephilim is laughing at me.
“Pathetic humannn…”
Its voice is like many nails on multiple chalkboards.
It’s high in nature, but also deep like the lowest note on an untuned piano.
My head starts to throb, starting behind my ears and working its way to the center of my forehead.
This feels more intense than last time, lacking any of the build-up from before.
Oziel’s arms tighten around me. I think he says something, but I can’t make out the words because the Nephilim is speaking again. “Warrr…cominggg…”
The same words it said to me the first time, only now new images flash through my mind.
I don’t know if the Nephilim is somehow putting images into my brain, or if we’ve connected minds, but the world around me fades as I’m pulled into an old memory.
The walls of the castle disappear, and I’m suddenly on a grassy field.
But instead of green grass, the ground is painted in red.
Blood.
The crimson smell hits my senses, followed by the putrid smell of death. Bile rises to my throat, and I retch. Chaos ensues.
Wolves and demons battle around me, taking down large creatures. More Nephilim. They stand tall in the sky, imposing creatures casting deadly blows down upon their enemies. Winged creatures fly in the sky, surrounding the Nephilim on all sides.
Dragons.
More creatures, some that look human and some that don’t, are all engaged in combat against the enemy.
One Nephilim stands out against all the rest. It’s the only one not fighting, standing off in the distance.
It towers a foot taller than its brethren, and although it appears just as monstrous as the others, there’s a different aura around it.
Something that makes it deadlier. Wiser in his bloodlust.
He’s also not alone. At first, I confused the flying creature next to him with a dragon.
The creature isn’t a dragon and appears human but has wings.
Large gray ones, flapping languidly in the wind to keep itself up.
From here, the creature looks all gray, but they’re so far away, it’s hard to tell.
Despite their distance, the power radiating off the creature makes my knees weak.
My legs give out, and I sink to my knees, landing in plush grass.
An anguished wail rises above all the other noise.
I jerk my head up in time to see another winged person above me.
This one is female with the same gray coloring as the other.
She wears black and mossy-green armor, silver bands decorating both her arms. She’s bloodied and probably has multiple wounds.
Her left wing seems damaged, as her right wing compensates to keep her up.
But it’s the sheer devastation on her face that brings me to a standstill. The raw, soul-crushing anguish in her scream. Tears carve tracks through the blood on her cheeks, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
Her pain slams into me like a tidal wave, crashing through every defense I thought I had. I hear a scream—my own—and clutch my chest as if I can hold my heart together. But it’s already breaking, shattering piece by piece right in front of me.
The physical pain is nothing compared to the betrayal slicing through me like a thousand blades, reopening wounds that never truly healed. Scars etched deep in places no one can see. And no matter how much time passes, they still bleed. It’s not my pain. It’s hers.
“Stop this! I beg of you! We fight for Mescos. We protect!” the woman screams at the other like her. I can’t see the expression of the person she’s speaking to, but I do notice when they turn their back to her. Another piercing scream rings out around us. Something snaps, breaking permanently.
The pain intensifies.
It’s too much. Too hot. Too constricting.
Bright white light explodes within my head. My scream reverberates around me until all I know is pain.
Darkness creeps in, and for the first time, I’m afraid of the shadows. They claim me, pulling me down until I can no longer fight. I surrender, and everything goes black.
Then…nothing. Only silence.