Half-Demon's Fortune

by Lina J. Potter

  Yes, that’s right.

  Pain, so much pain... Will it ever get better? Maybe.

  I sighed deeply and focused. Right now, I needed to do something that I had always forbidden myself from doing.

  I had to split my mind. As a half-demon, I was of dual natures. One half of me was kind, nice, and human, and it was in agony. As for the second one...

  A demon cares not who dumped whom. They didn’t love, they only owned. I had never released that side of me before, but now... It would be better than feeling sorry for myself.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out... Slowly, very slowly, I let the remains of my human persona get covered with an icy crust.

  Cold. Stillness. Balance. The pain subsided and I could concentrate on the matter at hand.

  Summoning Ak-kvir was easy. The demon was glad to answer my call, and the rest was a mere formality. He quickly spoke the words of the oath, agreed to my conditions, and we dashed away from the capital, to somewhere far away from the temples, where I could talk to Martha...my mother.

  ***

  Martha felt at peace. For more than a month, she had been living in the palace dungeon, but that didn’t make her feel short-changed.

  She had food, water, an exit to the sea that she used at night, and even a freshwater source that was her favorite spot to sit and relax. The kings of Radenor were prudent and cautious, and even a small army could stay there without any problems.

  There was another thing, too. The entity that took the form of a snake had started to accompany Martha everywhere. Its constant presence left its mark and Martha felt that she started getting stronger.

  If only she had known that before, when she was younger...like twenty years ago when Michelle was still alive. If only she had found her way to the secret altar! She could have done so much, and her sister—they might have different blood in their veins, but Martha had always considered her a sister—wouldn’t have had to die. With that power, she could have cursed Rudolph and Abigail not just with infertility. She could have killed them, casting such a hex that they’d beg her for death. They would have writhed in agony, dreaming of finally dying, rotting alive.

  Every mage has a certain pool, a reserve of magic power, and Martha was no exception. Hers, however, had never been especially big but now, little by little, it was growing.

  Her age was a problem, however. She was no spring chicken; she was rigid and set in her ways, and new things didn’t come easily to her.

  When Alex has a child, he must visit here often. Let the son grow even stronger than the father.

  Son. Yes, a son...

  Martha watched Dariola closely and became even more sure that she was carrying Alex’ baby. Yet in the meantime, the queen was telling her brother, her minstrel, the trusted court ladies what a torture it had been for her to lie in bed with a man she had hated. She screamed and shouted so much, lamenting her sad fate, that palace cats came around to sing along. Martha hated that bitch.

  Had she not carried Alex’ child, the blood of his blood... Martha had already passed a sentence on Dariola, and there would be no appealing it. Her unborn son didn’t deserve to have a mother who could smile while dreaming of thrusting a dagger into his father’s back.

  She might have gotten lucky once; she would never get another chance. Alex had only survived thanks to his demonic nature. Dariola had betrayed him, and thus, she had to die.

  But first, she had to give birth. Maybe that’s how it would go: death at childbirth. The child would have to be taken away first, though. Martha knew well that even if Alex forbade her from killing Dariola, it wouldn’t work. She needed to carry out the sentence.

  Let my son be angry later.

  Suddenly, the darkness fell all around Martha. The snake curled into a ball as if readying itself for a jump, and she heard Alex’ familiar voice coming from its mouth.

  “Are you all right, Mother?”

  “Yes, dear. When are ye coming home?”

  “I could return today.”

  Martha paused.

  “Do ye know that Darius—”

  “...Left? I’m well aware.”

  “And will ye—”

  “Of course, we’ll meet, Mother. Get ready.”

  “For what?”

  She listened to his plan, quietly amazed. What a great idea!

  “Oy, yer a genius, Alex, just like yer mother!”

  “Or my father?”

  “Argadon’s no fool either. So?”

  “So many people will die...”

  “Let them.” Martha wasn’t going to take mercy on anybody. “Ye’ll set the restrictions, and the rest…details.”

  “Live people.”

  “Thugs, lowlifes, bandits, scum of the earth! They’ll croak anyway, sooner or later, one way or another.”

  Necromancers never changed. Liking people went against their nature as frequent victims of persecution and witch hunts. What was the point of feeling sorry for someone who wouldn’t feel sorry for you?

  Martha might have had compassion for Torrin, for Alex’ child, but even Carlie wouldn’t strike a chord with her.

  She was a traitor. To a dog, a dog's death.

  “Fine. Be careful, Mother, all right?”

  “I promise ye, dear. I still want to cuddle m’ grandchildren one day, don’t ye forget that.”

  Alex said goodbye and Martha grew pensive. Something was wrong with her boy, that much was clear. But what exactly?

  She would figure it out when they met; until then, her main task was his plan.

  The troops were ready. The Morinars had discovered everybody involved in the conspiracy against the king. The only thing left was to tear off the mask of the templars and the kingdom would be returned to its rightful ruler.

  Martha was waiting and, at that moment, her eyes were indistinguishable from the eyes of the dark snake: the same merciless gaps full of nothingness.

  The tables were about to be turned.

  ***

  Madie heard a door slam but took her time working up the nerve to enter Innis’ room. She got there in ten minutes, as the sound of crying reached her ears.

  Yep, she was mightily curious. Too bad she couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation itself.

  “Innie?”

  The girl raised her head up from the pillow.

  “Auntie...he left.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes...”

  “Did you have a fight?”

  “N-no...he just had to leave...”

  “So will he be back?”

  “No...”

  She cried even harder.

  “He won’t be back, Auntie. Ever.”

  Madie sighed under her breath and sat on the bed next to the girl.

  “It’s going to be all right, my dear. He’ll return. He must.”

  Innis emphatically shook her head, sobbing violently, and Madie realized that something was wrong. Innis clearly knew something that she couldn’t tell her. All Madie could do was to comfort the heartbroken girl.

  Young people often got their hearts broken, but the Bright Saint kept giving them new chances for happiness. Even after breaking, a heart could be mended and accept new love.

  But what had made the boy leave? It was a mystery.

  To Innis’s credit, she didn’t even consider that Alex had left her because of the servitor’s murder. She was sure he would never frame her. He had left because he had had no other option and, knowing her demon, she was positive that even a shadow of suspicion would never fall upon her.

  Still, she would bear even that—as long as it brought him back to her.

  ***

  I rode along the road at full speed atop Ak-kvir.

  My plans had been set in motion, and everything seemed great. The demon, sensing that I was not in the mood for games, quickened his pace and almost soared, touching the clouds as he leaped up, and I felt the wind in my hair.

  I was in my demon form, which was the best choice for w
hat I was about to attempt.

  “Here they are.”

  Ak-kvir rushed toward a group of lights. It was a camp of a squad led by His Majesty Darius; I forgot the number. Although...what number? There wasn’t going to be any; not even a grave for his dead body.

  I smirked. We weren’t about to leave any witnesses.

  “Darius is mine. Take the rest.”

  “Royal blood... I want it too...”

  “I’ll give you some,” I calmed the demon. “I won’t let you kill him, but you’ll get a taste.”

  “Fine.”

  Ak-kvir gathered momentum and jumped forward, pushing with his back legs. He landed right in the middle of the camp.

  How would you react to a demon who had literally just fallen from the sky? You’d freeze, even for a second.

  That was enough for Ak-kvir. The demon charged forward, catching the head of a nearby soldier by his teeth, and clenched his jaws. His skull cracked with a disgusting sound, spraying his brain matter all over the place. Some of the soldiers fell right where they stood.

  Ak-kvir killed, maimed, and destroyed. He was cruel, he was bloody, and he was horrifying. It was a chaos of flying body parts and blood splatter. Some tried to put up a resistance, but Darius had too few guards; no more than fifty people. For Ak-kvir and me, they were next to nothing.

  He wasn’t risking anything. Unless the soldiers had blessed weapons made of silver, they could never injure him. He was absorbing so much blood, fear, and death that he wouldn’t feel anything even if he got hit with a battering ram. It would only make him madder. My power made him stronger, too.

  A demon summoned into our world heavily depended on the necromancer who performed the ritual, and Ak-kvir, unconsciously, was feeding on my magic. Usually, necromancers sealed that channel so they wouldn’t get drained dry by their summons, but I could afford it.

  The oath didn’t allow Ak-kvir to take more than he needed but gave me an outlet to pour out everything that was swelling inside of me: anger, rage, madness...

  I killed, too. Unlike Ak-kvir, however, I was quick, and I was clean. I hit their throats, heads, hearts... Not because I was kind but because it was more efficient. I didn’t want to examine them and finish them off later; I hated doing that.

  The battle didn’t last long. All of a sudden, we ran out of enemies, and only rustling grass reminded us that His Majesty Darius had been sleeping inside the tent.

  Oh, you’re going to run? Nice try.

  We needed just ten seconds to catch him. The smell of fear, horror, and despair was like fine wine, calling me, drawing me close, and I could never lose track of it.

  We reached the king-to-be in a small clearing. He was scared out of his mind and pressed his back against a tree. I motioned for Ak-kvir to stop.

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  “You gave me a promise...”

  Darius was shivering as he hugged the tree. That said, he had a good reason to be, as we were a remarkable sight. Well, Ak-kvir, at least, I was handsome in all of my forms. I was just really dirty.

  “You’re too excited, you’ll kill him, and I need him alive.”

  “Fine...”

  Darius didn’t even try to defend himself. He looked at me as if he were an animal led to slaughter, and I stopped his agony by sharply jabbing him in the chin. He passed out; too bad my problems weren’t as easy to solve—but I had made my own bed and had to lie in it.

  Whatever. It didn’t require that much time, and they didn’t care either way.

  I loaded Darius onto Ak-kvir’s back. He flinched, disgusted, and we headed back.

  At first, we reached the campsite; we needed to check on the soldiers and feed the demon. Sorry, guys, nothing personal, but you’re still in Radenor. Nobody called you here, and if you come uninvited, you don’t get any cake.

  Ak-kvir was happily munching on the bones, and I focused on preparing the ritual. I gathered five heads, carefully separated them from their bodies, and collected blood from somebody who had managed to stay alive. I didn’t want to use my own blood if I didn’t have to.

  Yep, that was all pretty savage. So what? It’s not like my life was sunshine and rainbows, either.

  When Ak-kvir was sated, I loaded Darius back onto him.

  “Where to?”

  “Right now, you’ll carry me to one of the dead places.”

  “Fine... In Radenor?”

  “No. Riolon would be better.”

  The demon narrowed his eyes, understanding the implication.

  “Dead places...yes, there is a good one, not far from here...”

  There were certain locations in the world, spots that people had abandoned, salting the earth and forgetting about them forever. Usually, areas struck by plague or something horrible enough that nobody wanted to settle there. Things happen. The Morales land might one day become such a place, after it was cleansed...if the Church did it in time, of course.

  But what did Ak-kvir and I care about that? Demons were immune to human diseases, and as for Darius...to hell with him, let him fall sick. He wouldn’t survive long enough for the symptoms to show up, anyway.

  Ak-kvir ran fast, and finally, we reached our destination. It was a ruined stone house. In the moonlight, it looked haunting and gave off an unpleasant aura.

  After attuning myself to it, I broke into a satisfied grin.

  “Wonderful! Good boy!”

  You bet he was.

  In that place, somebody had killed a necromancer. It had probably happened during the mage hunt era, and he had had no time to flee or had failed to defend himself. Still, he had managed to curse his murderers. It was a pretty good curse, too, seeing as nobody ever stumbled there.

  Cold tendrils of power reached out to me, identified me as their own, and quickly pulled back, as if embarrassed. Sorry, master. Forgive us for not recognizing you.

  I was a lot stronger; I could have cleansed the entire area of the curse. I could have. But did I really need that? I was no Bright Saint. I was a necromancer and a half-demon, and I was going to do whatever needed to be done.

  And no, I wasn’t looking for an excuse, and I needed no justification. I had my country, my family, and my people to take care of. I had lost Innis, but I wasn’t about to lose everything else.

  Inside, the ruins were dark and quiet. I regretted not bringing a shovel as I kicked away a rock and cleared a spot that I needed. Ak-kvir sneered, clearly pleased. You could have helped, cur. Whatever, him guarding Darius is enough. I had no desire to go looking for him again. I was too old to play tag.

  Never mind. I don’t need that much free space anyway. I started to prepare the ritual.

  First, I drew a pentagram using the blood of a dead man. I took a stick and made narrow grooves in the ground, then poured the liquid inside, making sure that the earth absorbed it evenly. That was no luxury, but a requirement. When Rene had told me about this ritual—and don’t go on thinking ill of him, he only used a book—he had warned me that if something went wrong, the first victim of the curse would be the necromancer himself. I would have never gotten myself into something like that if I wasn’t desperate.

  The heads went into the corners of the pattern.

  There you go.

  I covered the ground with glyphs and checked them against the cardinal directions.

  Death, summoning, command, submission, and finally, horror, took their place in my pentagram. I stepped over to Darius and shook him roughly. Oh, wait, first I need to transform, or he could die of fright prematurely.

  “Hide yourself,” I told Ak-kvir, and the demon backed off a few steps, vanishing into the darkness, with only his eyes shining like two orbs. I didn’t mind that; he would come in handy.

  Demons, even the lowest ones, could spread the aura of dread that weighed heavily upon humans. It was the perfect tool for intimidating, scaring, or interrogating people...which is what I was about to attempt.

  Darius came to his senses slowly, but slaps were still t
he best cure for fainting. He opened his eyes and groaned, and I shook him once again.

  “Are you with me?”

  His well-groomed face radiated recognition. He was prettier than his sister, even if they did have something in common, either the slanted chin or the eye color...

  He was so frightened that he pissed himself again.

  “Ah...ah...”

  “Yes, it’s me. Alexander Leonard Radenor. I can’t add ‘At your service.’ Alas, as you can see, dearest brother-in-law, we have a problem with service, especially on your part. You offered me your sister, but that cake was stuffed with nails instead of cream.”

  “Alex...you must have misunderstood!”

  Darius had recovered enough to start making excuses. What a rude customer!

  “Really? I’m going to tell you your brilliant plan, and you, my dear,” I intoned mockingly, “will correct me if I’m wrong. Knowing very well that a child of another bloodline couldn’t sit on the throne of Radenor, you foisted your sister upon me. Well, that wasn’t a bad idea, as I did have to marry. You even gave her a good dowry, and poor Dariola valiantly endured me in her bed until she got pregnant.

  “After that, her mission was over. She dutifully waited before the fetus proved healthy...and it was time to eliminate me. In the meantime, you plotted with the Church, and if not for some of my...characteristics, I wouldn’t be alive anymore. Who were the conspirators from the Church?”

  “I...er...”

  I pulled out a dagger, tossed it up, caught it by the blade, all flippant...and drew a line on Darius’ cheek. I didn’t press it; it was just a slight scratch. Then I twirled the dagger, making sure he saw it.

  “I could use it to cut out your eyes, you know, and pierce your eardrums. Whittle off your fingers, too, I have a good imagination and not much conscience, and you, brother, are at my complete mercy.”

  “I want to live.”

  “That’s really presumptuous of you. Live! Did you ask me if I wanted to live when you sent templars after me?”

  “My price is my life.”

  “The best I can offer you is a quick death,” I snapped.