Macabre Melody: Book 7 in the Spellsinger Series

by Amy Sumida

  “Okay, I've had about enough of this,” my father muttered as he tossed his boiled beer back toward the Humvee. “I assume that the Rooster is talking to all of you. Wanna share with the class?”

  “The RS used Faenestra's magic to grow stronger, which, in turn, makes us stronger.” Torin looked down at his hand and clenched it experimentally. He smiled at the gleam of magic that flowed over it. “The downside is that it needs more fuel now.”

  “What are saying to me?” My father crossed his arms and gave all of us one of his I'm-about-to-lay-a-fiery-smackdown looks.

  “I need more love to fuel her,” I saved Torin. “One more lover, to be precise.”

  “Slate.” Aaro ran up to us. He'd shifted to human while he was gone and thankfully put on some clothes. Aaro nodded politely to my father as he handed Slate a bag. “Sir, it's an honor to meet you. I'm Slate's brother, Aaro.”

  Dad nodded crisply.

  Slate stood—helping me to my feet as well—and quickly got dressed. Crisp, white button-down, black pants, black jacket, and shiny black shoes. Three minutes and he was back to his usual slick self. I grinned at the striking figure he presented. Then he took my hand and we turned to face my dad together.

  “Dad, this is Slate Devon, my...” I faltered.

  “Boyfriend? Lover? Boytoy? Pick one, Elaria,” my father snapped.

  “Dad!”

  “Need I remind you whose friend put that Rooster Spell in her?” Declan glared at my father. “You are her father so you are allowed certain concessions, but I will not allow you to speak to her like that. She doesn't deserve it. Especially not from you.”

  “Declan!” I transferred my fury from my father to my fiance.

  Declan didn't look at me; he was too busy staring down my father. Dad was too busy looking uncomfortable. He nodded grudgingly to Declan. From the moment he'd stepped up to us, Robert Scorcher had seemed like a different man. Perhaps it was his battle commander persona. Whatever it was, it was gone at last, and my father was there.

  “Nice to meet you.” My father mumbled as he held his hand out to Slate.

  “You too, Sir.” Slate slid an amused gaze my way.

  “Robert Scorcher,” I supplied his name.

  Slate nodded politely. “Welcome to my Zone, Mr. Scorcher.”

  “Thank you.” My father looked over at me as he said the words; really looked at me.

  He finally noticed that I was covered in blood. In his defense, most of my front had been concealed by Slate while I'd been trying to conceal his nudity.

  “Why the hell you look as if you went for a swim in a lake of blood?” Dad asked in a conversational tone.

  “I don't think a concise explanation is going to cut it,” I said. “Can we dismiss the troops and go somewhere a little more comfortable and private to talk about this?”

  “I have just the place.” Slate waved out a hand; the Zone Lord was in control of his world once again.

  Just like that, we were wrangled into a semblance of order and herded exactly where Slate wanted us. The man was slick.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Even with the size of the Quarry, we couldn't fit all of the witches and gargoyles inside with us. Slate had to dismiss all but a handful of men. Jago and his brothers were among those that remained with us. The Witches made themselves comfortable in the main part of the club—gargoyles passing out drinks to them and maybe flirting a bit—while I had a little conference with my father, my lovers, my bestie, my new gargoyle boyfriend, and his brothers in Slate's private lounge. Jago stood guard outside the door.

  Slate thought he'd be in control of the situation; that much was obvious. But he had failed to realize that he and his brothers were dealing with a powerful witch, three Shining One kings (one an ex-god), a blooder prince, a griffin, a hellhound, and one freshly freed spellsinger. We were all alphas, if not all control freaks. The only one who sat back and simply watched everyone argue was Cerberus. Gleefully, no less.

  It may have seemed as if we'd worked things out with the new RS situation already, but we hadn't. Not by a long shot. There were so many questions remaining and very few answers to them that people liked. We bickered, blustered, and bashed our way through explanations and accusations before we finally got to the reasonable requests.

  “Have you two”—Torin grimaced as he fought for the words—“done more than...”

  “Gotten handsy with each other?” Slate offered with a smirk.

  “Don't make me punch you,” Torin said dryly. “I've only just moved past the inclination.”

  I tossed back my third shot of Tequila.

  I was sitting on the bench beneath the window; my lovers to either side of me while Slate and his brothers sat across from us. Black, round, enameled tables sat between us with drinks set on them; a dotted line separating the battlefield. Cerberus sat at one end of the line and my father at the other. I'm not sure if that made them neutral or judgmental.

  “We have not,” I said firmly. “I thought the RS made that clear.”

  “She was a little confusing with her talk about... fingers.” Torin cleared his throat. “I just wanted to be sure.” His narrowed gaze swung to me and softened. “This is a rough one, little bird.”

  “Rough is a mild word for it,” Darcraxis muttered.

  “Now, you know what it felt like for us when you showed up.” Banning shot Darc a look.

  “I am her husband!” Darc growled. “We have loved each other for thousands of years. You were the supplanters—”

  “Can we not start this again?” My father wearily cut off Darc's speech. “I'd like to move onto what exactly was happening here with this gargoyle god.”

  “Not just this one,” I whispered and immediately had everyone's attention. Even Cerberus sat up straight.

  “What does that mean?” My father asked carefully.

  “Odran and Galen told me that when I freed Darc, it sent a shock wave of god energy through the realms.” I looked around at the others. “Enough magic to awaken the other trapped gods. If Gargo was able to call out to Shining Ones, then who knows what these other gods can do. They're obviously not limited to calling upon their own children.”

  “Their children would likely be the last resort for them,” Torin pointed out. “You don't ask the people who imprisoned you to release you.”

  I glanced at Slate.

  “I think yours was a special situation, little bird.” Torin grimaced. “You didn't do horrible things Slate to force him into imprisoning you.”

  “No; he just thought I'd done horrible things to other people,” I whispered.

  Everyone stared at Slate.

  “I was misinformed.” Slate inclined his head and accepted the judgment.

  “No; you weren't,” I defended him.

  Everyone stared at me.

  “He wasn't.” I stared back. “I did do all those things. Slate just didn't know the circumstances.”

  “You mean like being possessed by a crazy bitch goddess?” Cerberus asked.

  “Don't call her that,” Slate ground out.

  “Trust me, man; it's not worth it,” Binx muttered to Cer. “He really hates that word.”

  “I'm not calling Elaria a bitch,” Cerberus growled. “I'm calling Faenestra one.”

  “She is Faenestra,” Slate declared.

  “You'd best stop right there, boy,” my father snarled.

  “It's difficult to swallow, isn't it?” Slate stared down the other men. “But it's the truth, and if you love her, you'll accept it.”

  “Accept it?” Gage growled. “Faenestra tried to kill me.”

  I gaped back and forth between the men. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I was pretty sure I didn't like it.

  “Yeah; she did.” Slate gave Gage a level look. “What were you trying to do to her at the time?”

  Gage looked as if he'd been punched in the face.

  “Slate,” I whispered and shook my head.

  “No, Elaria; let m
e finish.” Slate gave me a look; Trust me.

  “Okay.”

  “We all have our demons,” Slate went on. “We go through things that change us; sometimes for the good. Faenestra is Elaria. She was cut in two and half of her changed. Then she got put back together again. That's not something the rest of us have ever had to deal with. Can any of you imagine it? Morally evolving and then being confronted with your primal self? Not just confronted; Elaria was forced to merge with the half of her that had remained stagnant in a dark orb.”

  “We know this,” Torin said calmly, although his eyes were burning Slate alive.

  “Obviously, you don't,” Slate said. “You think that Faenestra is another entity entirely; one that you defeated. An enemy. Do you have any idea how that makes Elaria feel?”

  My father, lovers, and best friend all looked at me with wide eyes.

  “Elaria,” Declan whispered, “is he right? Have we hurt you?”

  I blinked back tears and shook my head.

  “Faenestra is a part of yourself that you were strong enough and brave enough to overcome.” Slate leaned forward to take my hand. “She is not an enemy; she is you. She is a past you, but still you. She made you who you are. All of those things that you don't like about her; they forced you to become the woman you are today. As ironic as it is; Faenestra gave you the strength to stab yourself in the heart and cut her away. Personally, I'm grateful to her. Without her, I would have never known you.”

  I made a huffing sort of sob and Slate pushed aside the table. I sort of fell into his arms.

  “I've been so afraid that I'll become her again,” I whispered to him.

  “Impossible,” he murmured in my ear. “You've overcome your past self many times; with every new life you lived, you made the decision to move forward. You kept moving forward, gaining power and magic, but it wasn't so that you could reunite with her. It was so that you could put your past away for good. You will never be her again because you are too strong and too wise to devolve.”

  “Fuck me,” Declan huffed. “The gods-damned gargoyle is right.”

  I eased away from Slate;—brushing his cheek with a kiss as I went—and turned to look at Declan. “It's okay, Declan—”

  “No; it's not,” Gage said firmly. “I'm sorry that we made you feel as if you were something evil. That part of you was just so very...”

  “Divine,” I said with a chuckle. “Faenestra was... I was... a goddess; with all of the qualities that true gods have. Or perhaps failings is a better word. I have to accept who I was so that I can remain who I am. I did horrible things.”

  “That wasn't your fault,” Slate said.

  “You can't have it both ways.” I smirked at him. “Either she isn't me, and I'm blameless, or she is, and I'm at fault.”

  “It's not black and white, Spellsinger,” Slate said with a twisted smirk.

  “Only shades of Slate?” I asked and chuckled.

  “Faenestra is an old version of you,” Slate said carefully. “You moved past her and then suddenly had to deal with her and all the power that came with her. You finally realized that she couldn't change—not without living the lives you had—and so she needed to be put away. Just as we all do with the pieces of ourselves that don't work for us anymore. Except your past self had done things that you couldn't forgive. So she wasn't just put away, she was banished. You took responsibility for the old you and you did what needed to be done. The correct party has been punished.”

  “Punished,” I whispered. “Justice served.”

  “She did something that you viewed as heinous, but was it evil?” Slate asked me. “Faenestra believed she was avenging herself and her husband. Who among us wouldn't do the same?” Slate looked at the others. “I know evil; I've looked it in the eye. It doesn't avenge anything. It doesn't love anything. True evil corrupts and destroys for the joy of it. No; Faenestra's not evil. How could she be, when she has the potential to become this?” Slate waved his hand at me.

  “I like him,” my father said to me. “You have my blessing.”

  “I really didn't want to like him,” Darcraxis grumbled. “But as the god who was married to Faenestra, I not only agree with him, but I'm relieved to hear someone vindicate her. She isn't evil.” He laid his hand on my cheek. “You aren't evil. You are the most magnificent woman in all the realms.”

  “Are you blushing?” Cerberus asked in shock.

  “Something Faenestra would never have done.” Darcraxis leaned over to kiss me my cheek. “I adore the new you.”

  “I thought I was the philosopher in the family,” Aaro said to Slate.

  “I don't philosophize,” Slate protested. “I simply state the truth as I see it.”

  “Thank you for seeing and stating.” I leaned over to squeeze his hand.

  “It's hard not to see you.” Slate smirked. “Believe me; I've tried.”

  “Yeah; I tried not to see you too,” I said as I sat back. “That didn't work out so well for me either.”

  “How long has this been troubling you, little bird?” Torin asked me.

  I looked away guiltily.

  “Elaria,” Torin said sternly, “we are supposed to support each other. How can we do that if you don't talk to us?”

  “I knew how you felt,” I said gently. “It was the same way I'd felt. So, I didn't see the point in talking about it.”

  Torin sighed deeply. “Fair enough. But from here forward, we talk about everything.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Perhaps we should get back to the rising gods situation?” Aaro prompted.

  “Not our problem.” Binx crossed his arms.

  Slate lifted a brow at Binx while Aaro shook his head and sighed.

  “What? It isn't,” Binx huffed. “Our problem has been solved. There aren't any more gods on this planet. Our myths say that Gargo is the Earth's creator; forming it from stone and fire. So, we're all set. You two put him back in his place.”

  “And who do you think added the oceans and the humans to Earth?” Aaro asked softly.

  “I dunno.” Binx shrugged.

  “Perhaps the god of the humans?” Aaro suggested helpfully.

  “Humans don't have the strength to imprison a god,” Binx said. “If he did exist, he's left on his own. There's no way there's another god here.”

  We all stared at Binx in surprise.

  “It has a brain, after all.” Cerberus watched Binx as if he might do another trick.

  “Fuck you, hell doggy,” Binx growled at Cerberus.

  Cerberus laughed. “You'd better watch yourself, Binky. I'm not collared anymore.”

  “Has it occurred to you that a god freed on another planet might come here and, I don't know”—Slate shrugged like Binx had as he stared him down—“fuck with us?”

  Binx frowned.

  “The Gods are everyone's problem,” my father said pensively. “The Coven will want to hear of this.”

  “Can you contact the other Zone Lords and maybe let the rest of the Beneath know?” I asked Slate.

  “You want me to spread panic?” He gaped at me.

  “I want you to let the other races know that a god may be rising on their home planets and warn them against falling for their tricks.” I glanced at the other men and scowled when I saw their reluctant expressions. “What's wrong with that?”

  “There will be those who will actively seek out the Gods for what they can offer.” Slate waved in exasperation. “The rest will try to run. Except there's nowhere to run to. Earth will be the safest bet. We'll be overflowing with alien immigrants.”

  “Earth and Tír na nÓg,” Torin added.

  Slate lifted a brow.

  “Elaria and I are the Gods of the Shining Ones,” Darc said it casually; without arrogance. “We have risen and have given up our godhoods for our children. That makes our planet safe as well.”

  “Sure.” Slate lifted an eyebrow at Darc. “And how many non-Shining One beneathers do you let on your world?”r />
  Torin and Declan exchanged a look before glancing at Darc.

  “Not many,” Darc admitted. “But they could push through the Veil if they were strong enough.”

  “The Witches did,” Torin pointed out.

  “No Beneather is going to venture onto Tír na nÓg without Shining One permission,” Aaro said evenly. “It would be a death sentence. Better to take your chances with a possible god uprising. Earth has no wards or jewel magic to guard it; they'll come here.”

  My father grunted and stood. “Let me talk to the Coven Leaders. Nobody do anything until I get back to you. I think you can sort out the rest of this drama on your own, Elaria.”

  “Sorry for dragging you out here for nothing, Dad.” I sighed. “Thanks anyway.”

  “It wasn't for nothing.” My father slid around the tables and pulled me to my feet. He hugged me tightly. “I love you always, Ellie-phant. No matter what happens. I would do anything for you. I'm sorry that I was gruff with you, and I'm even more sorry that the horrid spell is back.”

  I am not horrid! RS huffed.

  As horrid as can be, Kyanite snapped. Hiding right beside me! Right beneath my metaphorical nose! You sneaky—

  Shut up, the both of you! I cut him off. Don't start a fight inside me. I'm too tired for this shit.

  They went silent.

  “It's okay, Dad,” I said out loud. “I'll be okay. The Rooster has its perks.”

  “Stop right there, kid.” Dad pushed away and shook his head. “I've heard and seen too much as it is. No father needs to know this stuff.”

  I laughed and kissed his cheek. “Say hi to Mom for me.”

  “Will do.” Dad turned to look at Slate. “You've got a chance with a hell of a woman, Son. This may not seem like the best situation to be in, but she's worth it. Don't fuck up.”

  “No, Sir; I won't.” Slate stood. “Let me see you out.”

  My father grunted and left the room with Slate. My worried gaze followed their progress through the club. I shivered to think what Slate was talking to him about.