Chapter 17
Barquiel panted and wheezed,his entire body trembling from the effort it had taken to finally break out of Chaos Seal. He looked over his shoulder at the crack in the spell he’d climbed out of.
The dark dimension where he’d been trapped for days was visible inside it.
He swallowed. Curse Azazel for teaching her that awful magic!
The demon scanned his surroundings cautiously. One thing to be grateful for was that Chaos Seal hadn’t brought him to the same place where Azazel oncecontained Hellfire Magic.
He didn’t recognize the deserted cave around him, but it had to be somewhere in Hell. He only had to smell the hot sulfur filling his lungs and feel the heat beneath his boots to know that a river of lava was close by.
A sharp pang stabbed his insides, catching him off guard. Barquiel clutched his stomach with a grunt and nearly doubled over.
Fear brought a sour taste to his mouth. It was happening more often now. He waited for the fire scorching his soul to abate, sweat dripping off his chin and splashing onto the warm stone with faint hisses.
Dammit all to Hell!
He couldn’t understand why Rose Blake’s soul fragment had gained a life of its own, nor how she was able to hurt him so.
Barquiel clenched his jaw, silently raging at his recent misfortunes and the malediction that was cast upon him when he was driven out of Heaven. One that meant he could not easily cast aside the body he had taken over.
He had to find Ran Soyun. Before what was left of Rose Blake won the battle being fought inside him.
Barquiel straightened and pressed a hand against the rock face to steady himself before heading slowly into the gloom.
* * *
Mae’s stomachchurned as she watched Armaros inspect the skeleton key she’d handed to him. A rabble of voices rose around them.
They were in a dining hall that took up half the basement of the castle. Brimstone and Vannog poked their heads into the extensive kitchen next to it, picking and choosing their menu for the night. The demons tending to the dozens of roasting pits and the multitude of bubbling vats didn’t seem to mind their presence, some even making shy suggestions.
“Hmm.” Armaros rubbed his chin, squinting at the indentations Hellreaver had made on the shank and the bit. “I see why this thing didn’t work.” He placed the key on the table. “Fixing it is pretty straightforward. But it was Azazel who imbued it with the necessary magic to make it do what it’s supposed to do.” The demon gave Mae a shrewd look. “Seeing as you’re his daughter, I hope you will be able to do the same.”
Mae’s pulse quickened. She held his gaze. “And Hellreaver?” She unhooked the pentagram pendant from around her neck and laid it carefully on the table. “Can he be fixed?”
An expectant silence fell around the table. Armaros picked up the cracked pieces she had fused together using her and Brimstone’s magic. The demon was quiet for some time, his brow furrowed while he ran his fingers expertly over the metal.
He raised his eyes to meet Mae’s. “It might be easier to forge you a new one.”
Mae’s throat tightened. “It wouldn’t be the same. It,” she stopped and swallowed convulsively, “—he wouldn’t be Hellreaver.”
Nikolai placed a hand atop her trembling fist.
“Can you fix the weapon or not, Armaros?” Astarte asked in an exasperated voice.
“Of course I can,” Armaros grunted. “I will need her magic to repair him though.”
A giddy feeling swept over Mae. “Oh.”
She blinked back tears and slumped in her chair. Brimstone shifted into his smaller form, returned to her side with a whimper, and leapt onto her lap.
Nikolai scowled at Armaros while Mae hugged the fox to her chest. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“I was testing her resolve.”
Alicia sighed. “She traveled to the Underworld to try and get him fixed. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her resolve, you boor.”
“Azazel begged me to make this weapon for months,” Armaros protested. “I can’t just cave in to his daughter’s demand in a day.”
“We don’t have months, or even weeks,” Nikolai snapped. “My father may soon come into possession of the first Sorcerer King’s soul. If that happens, the world of magic will be screwed.”
Mae touched his arm lightly.
Armaros furrowed his brow. “Why should I care what happens to the world of magic?”
“Because we need that magic when we fight Satanael,” Astarte said. “Never mind what will happen to your precious city and all the others who have benefited from Azazel’s grace if he falls into a depression again.”
“Has the alcohol you’ve been guzzling finally addled your brain?” Alicia asked Armaros sourly.
Armaros glowered at the Reaper queen. “I don’t want to hear that from the woman who’s drunk half my wine cellar.”
They’d just started bickering when an enormous casserole slammed heavily on the table between them, making them jump and spilling the juices of the fragrant meat and vegetables sizzling inside it.
“I believe it’s time for everyone to calm down and eat,” Us’gorith stated thinly.
He took off his helllizard oven mitts and marched stiffly back into the kitchen.
“I think you guys pissed him off,” Cortes remarked.
“You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t poison your food,” Astarte muttered to Armaros.
More dishes arrived until a veritable feast covered the table.
An ominous rumble erupted across the dining hall. Its echoes bounced off the walls and drew worried stares from the demons dining at the next table.
Everyone looked at Mae.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks heating up. “Breakfast was a long time ago.”
Nikolai finally relaxed. “I’m glad to see your appetite is okay.”
Cortes picked up a chunk of bread and broke it into pieces to feed Popo. “I think it would take more than this to kill her appetite.”
“What’s wrong?” Mae asked, clocking his morose expression.
“I was thinking that we can now officially claim to have dined in Hell,” Cortes said glumly. He looked around. “What’s keeping Vlad?”
Astarte helped herself to a bowl of hellboar stew. “I suspect he and his father have a lot of catching up to do.”
* * *
Windows glowedin the city beneath the castle, soft points of light that brightened the gathering gloom. Vlad’s gaze rose from the myriad trails of smoke swirling from hundreds of chimneys to the distant roof of the cavern which housed the valley and mountains surrounding the keep. Now that night was falling, he could see millions of sleeping glowworms covering the dark rock face.
He was wondering how big the creatures were, considering he could almost make out their bodies, when incubus energy fluttered against his skin.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” a voice said behind him.
He tensed as Ilmon joined him on the terrace. Tarang made a soft welcoming sound, his tail sweeping the ground. Vlad frowned at the tiger.
Traitor.
Tarang ignored him, his eyes shrinking to happy slits as the Incubus king scratched him under the chin.
Ilmon smiled at the tiger. “Your uncle found a great familiar for you.”
Surprise quickened Vlad’s pulse. He stared at Ilmon. “How did you know that?”
“I always had someone watching you. Ever since you were born.”
A melancholic look dawned on Ilmon’s beautiful face. Heat flushed through Vlad’s body. He ground his teeth.
“You have no right to be sad! Not after what you did to my mother! Not after,” he stopped and took a shaky breath, angry at himself for the tears welling in his eyes, “—not after you seduced her and abandoned her!”
Ilmon’s gaze grew hooded. “Is that what you believe happened?”
Vlad tilted his chin, his jaw so tight his face ached. “Do you deny it?”
Tarang huffed worriedly, his blue gaze swinging between them.
Ilmon looked out across the valley.
“Fate is a cruel mistress,” he said quietly. “That’s what I thought when I met Katarina.” He cut his eyes to Vlad briefly. “I know you will find this hard to believe, but it was your mother who seduced me.”
Vlad recoiled. “What?!”
“She was the strongest Fire Magic witch your world had seen in centuries, nay, millennia. Her powers were so potent an attraction that I, who had lived in the Underworld for thousands of years, could not help but visit the human realm to see with my own eyes who could harbor such immense power within their mortal coil.”
A hundred questions stormed Vlad’s mind. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and asked the one that mattered the most.
“Did you…love my mother?”
Ilmon’s expression turned brooding. “I am an incubus. It is in my nature to seduce women.” He faltered. “But I can honestly say that she was the first to touch my cold, demon heart in a long, long time.”
A stilted silence fell between them.
“Then why did you abandon her?” Vlad asked miserably.
“Because she asked me to leave once I fulfilled the promise I made to her.”
Vlad grew as still as stone then. “What promise?”
A muscle jumped in Ilmon’s jawline. He gripped the balustrade overlooking the courtyard, his knuckles white.
“Your mother knew she was dying when I met her. And she wanted something only I could give her.” The Incubus king’s tone turned harrowed. “She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in the whole wide world.”
The truth struck Vlad like lightning and made his chest tighten until he could barely breathe.
“A baby?” he said numbly. “She wanted a baby?!”
“Yes. She knew it was within my power to grant her that wish. That my incubus energy and her Fire Magic together would keep her alive long enough to carry and birth a child. Katarina was an incredibly shrewd witch.” Ilmon’s voice shook slightly. “I begged her to let me stay at her side until the end. But she would not have it so. She told me she did not want me to see her in that state.” The Incubus king squeezed his eyes shut. “She wanted me to remember her still looking beautiful and healthy.”
Vlad’s knees buckled. Blood pounded dully in his ears as he gazed blindly at the demon who had sired him.
Everything—everything I thought I knew about my past was wrong!
He sat down heavily on the ground, his body shaking uncontrollably. Tarang made an anxious sound and plopped down next to him.
Ilmon lowered himself beside them.
“All this time.” Vlad swallowed heavily and met his father’s eyes. He could see the kindness and immutable love shining in the incubus’s patient gaze. “All this time, I hated you.” A harsh bark of laughter left him. “Hell, I didn’t even know who you were until a few months ago.”
Ilmon hesitated before putting an arm gingerly around his shoulders. “Yuliy did a grand job raising you. You’ve become a fine man indeed, my son. I am sure Katarina is smiling upon us both from Heaven.”
They stayed like that for a while, Tarang’s tail curled around them.
“Vlad?” Ilmon said.
“Yeah?”
Ilmon’s eyes twinkled with hope. “About that kiss?—”
“No.”
The Incubus king sighed at his mutinous expression. “Alright, then how about I teach you how to take your incubus powers to the next level? It will help in your battle with that Sorcerer King.”
Vlad stared. “There’s a next level?”
Tarang cocked his head inquisitively.
Ilmon smiled. “There are many levels.”