Forbidden Boys

by Chantal Cross

  “You are a demon.” Glaw hisses. “What do you know of love, real love? Love is sacrifice, it is duty, it is service. It is doing the best for the one we love even if we hurt ourselves. Do you act selflessly now, as God does, or do you act out of your own desire?”

  “I act as I must.” I’m done arguing with her. There’s no time. She just wants to delay me.

  I move towards Ebony. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m not letting her go without a kiss. Certainly not now, when it will make no difference.

  Glaw leaps from the ground, and her many sets of wings shear the air as she comes towards me. The flaming sword comes at my throat.

  “Pretty unfair,” I mutter at her. “Coming at a fellow when he’s unarmed.”

  “I do as I must. I work for the greater good, not my own ambition.”

  She comes at me again. I sidestep, going for a hold on her waist but she batters me with her wings. I stagger back, and she comes in with the sword high. I barely get my hands up in time. As heavenly fire touches my hands where I stop the blade, a terrible scream rings around the chamber. It takes a few seconds for the reality to catch up—it’s my scream.

  “You’re done.” Glaw hisses at me, shifting her weight to bring the blade down. I shake my head, gritting my teeth.

  “Not yet.” I push up, springing from the floor and raising the sword. She staggers back, and I slip past her, bringing a fist into her ribs. She stumbles, flipping the sword for balance and swings back towards me.

  I dodge her easily, wary of using my burned hands. I chop into her waist as I slip by and she flies past me, taking a few steps before she rights herself and squares up again,

  Glaw’s getting tired. Depleted, at least. Her heavenly power must burn through a lot of energy. It gives her strength, but she can’t maintain it.

  I reach down into my boot and pull out my dagger. Long and thin, sharp and clean, it’s never let me down. I bring my arms up and square against Glaw as she prepares for another sweep.

  “Such a small weapon, Lust? I thought your ilk had far greater at their disposal.”

  “Come and taste it,” I whisper.

  She flies towards me. She twirls the sword as her feet lift off the ground. Her heavenly wingbeats roar making a rough wind, which whips debris up from the floor. She starts to shriek as she draws closer, suddenly dipping and bringing the sword down to my side, ready to slice up.

  But I’m ready for her. With one neat sidestep, I avoid the flaming blade. My right hand comes up, sure and true, gripping the hilt through the pain of my injuries.

  I hear a shattering cry as my dagger pierces Glaw’s chest. I push in as hard as I can, twisting the blade to make a ragged, wide wound before I pull the dagger out.

  Glaw lands on her feet, but staggers back until she hits the wall. She stares at her chest in disbelief. Blood pours down her belly, splattering the floor.

  “You killed me. You bastard.”

  I pause long enough to bow slightly.

  “A pleasure doing business with you.”

  I stand over her just a few minutes longer, as she closes her eyes. The bright glow of her heavenly array begins to fade. Her last breaths heave out, and her blood slows to a trickle.

  I want to make sure she’s dead. I don’t want Glaw hitting me from behind.

  I’m not fully satisfied but time is ticking, riding me like the wind of the wild hunt. I run to my love, feet pounding the old stone as all my thoughts are blasted away by grief.

  While fighting, I could set it aside. A demon’s blood always rises to a conflict. But now the threat is gone there is only fear and loss in my heart.

  “Ebony!” I drop beside her. “Ebony, please!”

  Ebony’s skin is sickly dull. She opens her beautiful eyes and tries to smile.

  “Lucien.”

  I put my hand over her wound.

  “Don’t talk. Just—I don’t know! Ebony, don’t die, don’t die!”

  I crumple over her, wanting to look into her face every last second it is lit with her life’s light. At the same time, I can’t bear to see her like this.

  “No, no. I’ve waited so long—we came so far! Ebony, no. Don’t die.”

  She smiles.

  “I don’t think it’s up to me. It doesn’t hurt, Lucien. It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” She tries to touch my face. “You’re okay.”

  I grab her hand. I pull it close to my chest, her other hand still hovering over the great wound. Her face is so still and calm. Her eyes blink, gorgeous long lashes stroking her cheeks. She tries to smile.

  My chest is tearing with grief. I lean over Ebony. She tilts her lips up as her eyes close, perhaps for the last time.

  When my lips touch hers, the emotion is so intense it floods me. I can barely keep my lips on hers. But I’ve waited far too long, and this may be my last chance.

  Ever.

  In this life, the next, or in all time.

  21

  Ebony

  I’m amazed that even while I’m bleeding and dying, I can be excited by Lucien’s lips moving towards mine. The heat of his body, the passion of his gaze, they ignite my body even though it is broken and draining its life’s blood.

  Lucien’s lips touch mine, and there is a trembling sweetness, an emotion so intense I can’t name it. I reach up with my lips, hot and soft, like silk. His mouth kneads at mine, so gentle and deep I can feel it through my whole body.

  All the pain, the cold and the awful, encompassing exhaustion just fall away. There is a moment of extreme darkness, a sweeping wave, and I think—this is it.

  Vision returns, to my surprise. I’m high, I’m spinning. The room pans out beneath me, and I see Lucien leaning over me. He pulls back from the kiss, cupping my face.

  My eyes are closed. My face is relaxed and contented. The wound in my chest no longer flows with blood, breath no longer passes through my lips.

  “Ebony? Ebony? No, NO! Don’t go! Snow!” His howl is one of terrible pain. He clasps me to his chest. Strong arms are bulging as he crushes me to him.

  “Snow, don’t go. Don’t go.” His voice is so forlorn I want to go to him. I will myself to go to him.

  But my will is no longer my own.

  The room spins sickeningly, like I had turned around too fast and too long and I’m about to crash to the ground under the weight of gravity I can no longer feel.

  Suddenly I’m standing on a hill covered in thick grass. Behind me, a mountain rears at the sky, towering above us. In front, a field, wide and long, covered in a mass of moving bodies.

  Not a crowd. Not a disorganized throng.

  An army. Carefully arranged in ranks.

  An army of demons.

  Beyond them is a great stone castle that looks far too much like this academy. It’s beautiful and whole, even though it still seems old.

  And I know, I’m a thousand years in the past. I don’t know how I know it. The years are counted somewhere in my soul, and that strange duality that occasionally comes upon me splits my mind before I can distance myself again.

  Watch.

  The voice that commands sounds like my own.

  Seven men surround me. Beautiful, strong, courageous warriors. I can’t see their faces. Just as I catch a glimpse of them, the vision seems to cloud, and I can’t return to the details I almost saw.

  They stand around me, and they raise powerful magic. It sweeps through me, body, and soul. I feel something set in my bones. Determination. Purpose. The inevitability of the future that will come from this choice. I can see it in the relentlessness of time.

  This act is a desperate move. It cannot stop the evil we face, only delay it. I understand this. It seems hopeless, but I know it is the only way.

  One of the men hands me a long, curved blade. I hold it for only a few seconds.

  Then I plunge it, hilt deep, into my own stomach.

  That whirling, gut-wrenching vertigo comes upon me again. The battlefield swirls
and then gets sucked out of existence. Black, darkness, the forgiving void. Peaceful nonexistence.

  It doesn’t last.

  Screaming, I’m blinded by light. It’s bright, harsh, and it burns my eyes like star fire. I have never known such pain.

  Big hands grip me and pass me between them. I cry and cry and scream with all the force of my lungs. I’m cold. The light is burning me as if my eyes have never been used before. Why don’t these large people wrap me up, make me warm? Why don’t they turn off the horrible light? How do they stand it? Why doesn’t it burn them?

  All the questions and confusion only makes me more frightened.

  Finally, something warm and soft draws around me. The light dims, and I’m pulled up against something warm and comforting.

  I move towards it, not knowing what it is. Not caring. So long as the ugly light goes away, and the cold is gone. I reach out with clumsy hands, grabbing at the softness, the warmth.

  Safe. Somewhere safe.

  A booming voice like something from the heavens echoes around me. It sounds familiar, full of a fierce pride. I wonder what it has to be so proud of. I’m not even sure what pride is.

  “Keep her safe, keep her pure. Keep her ignorant.”

  A sweet voice, familiar and loved but not remembered, speaks with compassion.

  “I will. She is love. She is protection. She is true.” I trust this voice immediately, even though part of me resists. Part of me says this voice lies.

  At this time, that doesn’t matter. I am weak, and I need protection. She is a comfort. I will trust her.

  I hear small voices and feel others settle near me. They are family. One is greedy and tries to take up all the space on the bed. The other lays down with a slothful weariness, not caring about the others.

  “I leave them with you.” The booming voice speaks again. “For protection and commitment to a purpose.”

  I want to stay here in this circle of warm love. But the swirling comes for me again, and this time it pulls decidedly down. From within, from beneath, it is darkness draining, it is the darkness of the worst evil.

  As I thud to a halt on something dusty and hard, the darkness is complete. I know I’m no longer moving. I know I’m somewhere new, somewhere I don’t think I’ve ever been.

  Hostility seems to sift through the very air. As my eyes adjust, I realize there is a soft glow all around. Very faint, but enough for my eyes to catch the gleam and begin to show me something of my new prison.

  I can hear clattering, very soft. Like hundreds of tiny feet that tap upon the hard, cold floor. It’s so quiet, so far away I feel it shouldn’t scare me. Something about it is intense and… menacing.

  Something moves in the dark. I see it as it bobs before me, breaking the soft light. It rears high and comes closer. I can see the curve of a head and a mane of hair. I see the silhouette of shoulders and the graceful curve of a waist.

  She’s too high—too tall to be human. Unless she is sitting on top of something. I sit up, trying to see, asking my poor eyes to focus.

  The body looks bulbous, wide, and shiny. Great spires in sharp angles rise on either side of the strange shape.

  It looks like… a giant spider? With a woman on top?

  Now I’m losing it. It’s some kind of death induced hallucination. I refuse to believe I’m in hell.

  Green glowing eyes open, adding to the light. The glow lights a pair of savagely cut cheeks, showing a pair of very red lips. They curve in a smile. It’s one of the widest, most satisfied smiles I’ve ever seen.

  Too many teeth, ridiculously sharp, rim between those lips. I shuffle back a little, the feel of my arms and legs in their proper places more terrifying than anything that has happened so far.

  If this is real and not some kind of near-death dream, if I am not dead, then I can get hurt. I could die.

  Isn’t it enough to die once?

  The room starts to shudder, a low vibration that hums through the walls. I don’t know if the light is getting stronger or if my eyes are adjusting, but suddenly the floor resolves itself into hundreds of thousands of tiny shapes. All with long legs, big bodies, and multitudes of eyes.

  Spiders. Spiders are everywhere, all around me.

  This thing—the spider Queen —she scuttles closer, feet sounding like glass tapping on stone. I struggle backwards again, but there’s nowhere to go. She leans down and peers into my face.

  “I’ve waited. Patience is not something I’m good at. But you taught it to me.”

  She looks quite reasonable, even with her hideous features. I start to think, maybe, she can be bargained with.

  Her face twists in hate, and I feel fear cracking through me again, sharp on my nerves. She sees my fear and throws her head back, laughing with so much joy and triumph; it’s almost a sweet sound.

  She looks down on me again, her smile fiercely satisfied.

  “At last.”

  She scuttles closer. I’m too scared even to scream. My chest is tight like it’s full of trapped air, and my throat is closed. I’m choking on my own terror.

  She leans down, coming very close to me. The scary green eyes come level to my own, staring deep. Her pupils are terrible dark pits.

  She raises a hand, pointing a sharp dark nail right at my chest. She looms, coming close. She’s almost touching me.

  “Finally!”

  22

  Kashton

  It’s a wonderful mess. Perfect in its destruction. Nobody is untouched by the might of Glaw’s angelic fury… and yet, Lucien’s still able to spoil it.

  Lucien shouldn’t be here. The bastard has no right to mess with matters that don’t concern him. Out of all the other princes, across all the years, he’s the one who I feel deserves her love the least. People call me indulgent, my appetite insatiable, but he’s not all that different from me. True, he may be more carnal in his desires, pleasures of the flesh is his forte. However, the two of us beat as one for the same thing. Snow White.

  Using her “new” name irks me. It always has. She’s never been Ebony to me. This reincarnation never suited her — this wisp of a girl, so unsure of herself she’d fall over her own shadow? No. That’s not Snow, not the woman I knew. The woman I knew was a fierce warrior, shrouded in pride, and was pure of heart. She had skin as white as snow, not as dark as ebony. She should have seemed like a different woman, someone I did not care about.

  But still, I covet her.

  Ebony’s dark beauty torments me.

  Desire floods my veins.

  If I can't have her, then no one should. Is it any wonder they made me Greed?

  Lucien’s mewling stabs at my eardrums. In invades my mind, leaving me powerless to do anything except listen to his incessant whining. So much for being cocksure, the sorry sap is a mess. I probably shouldn’t take such enjoyment in his pain, not when I can appreciate his sorrow. It’s brought about by reverence so devout, so potent, that it’s transcended years of change. But he isn’t worth my sympathy. There’s no love lost between us.

  Let Lucien weep, let him pour out his heart and bay into her corpse. No amount of crying will bring her back now. She’s lost to us all, and in that, I find some strange sense of peace.

  Unexpectedly, a rasping breath begins to sound from a darkened corner of the room. To my surprise, Glaw is clinging on to her life. The woman is proving she has more spine than I previously gave her credit for. No matter. Her wounds won’t heal. She’s destined for death. The reaper will come for her, as I hope he will come for all the other princes too.

  I admire Glaw for being the one to manipulate Ebony like this — playing the caring professor can’t have been easy, not when she has always been aware of Snow’s true power. Yet Glaw did it out of a sense of duty, similar to myself. Well, maybe that’s pushing it a little. A lot of mine is born out of undiluted greed. But I’m okay in knowing that. I’ve waited long enough for this outcome. If Snow is determined to reject me like she’s always done, then the poor girl has to pa
y with her life. Given our ugly love story, an unrequited tale that always leaves me the one pining for more, it’s fitting that it ends like this.

  Ebony’s been turned into a bloody mess, just as my heart has been a thousand times before.

  Glaw’s hand twitches for her sword, but Lucien is too preoccupied to notice. Only moments ago he was determined to watch the life pour from her. His desire was to ensure he’d won. Now, with Ebony’s life ebbing away, he doesn’t give a thought to any potential threat. He’s too cocooned inside his own grief. It’s his lucky day, however, as Glaw is twitching out her last. This is nothing except a frustrated goodbye from beyond the grave. Angels, they’re never content with just dying with dignity.

  Dignity, all its forms, isn’t anyone’s strong point today. Least of all Lucien’s.

  Gently, as if concerned about hurting her, he eases Ebony off of the spike that pinned her in place. Despite his soft touch, more blood spills from her chest. Forked trickles of blood ooze from her parted lips. There’s a serene aura in how she looks now; death suits her.

  For the first time since witnessing this grim battle, I feel remorse at her leaving me for a second time. I didn’t want this, didn’t intend her death to be on my hands. But Ebony wasn’t going to give me what I desired, so this is the best for everyone. If she’s dead, they can’t have her. I can live peacefully in despair, knowing that our love was never tested by their interference.

  As much as I detest Lucien with a passion, the way he weeps into her lifeless body is upsetting to watch. He’s so consumed by his emotions, all of his charisma has left him. Lust has never looked so pathetic in all its existence. Mostly I'm glad he’s so destroyed by this, however, there’s also part of me that mourns alongside him. We’re both losing something dear to us today.

  “Please, Ebony, please come back,” Lucien cries, before he lifts his head and bellows out. “Someone, anyone, HELP!” The way his voice breaks, the strain behind it, it’s magnificent. I can’t deny myself the thrill it gives me to see my greatest rival dashed against the rocks like this.