Merry Ever After

by Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Lucy Score, Marie Force, Tijan, Kennedy Ryan

I tuned out his thoughts, and Shay turned the corner.

  I felt knocked back on my heels. It happened whenever we were in the same room. Our connection sizzled, strengthening as she approached, and I felt her nudging at my walls. “What’s in there, Kellan? Why am I concerned?”

  I gently moved her back. “Just the holidays. I’m okay.”

  She frowned, still coming toward us. Other students were walking around her, passing in front of her, but I only had eyes for her. She was the boat in the waves. She came to a stop in front of me, ignoring her brother’s presence as she looked into my eyes.

  She lifted a hand, caressing the side of my face with her fingers.

  Her touch was soft, loving.

  “What’s in there? Why are you keeping me out?”

  I shook my thoughts clear, feeling the last of the rage slipping away, and I lowered the shields. As I did, she came in, looking around. I reached for her, my hand going to her waist, and drew her to me. I leaned in to touch her forehead softly with mine, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was still looking in my head, reading my thoughts, feeling my emotions.

  Finding nothing—or nothing I hadn’t wanted her to know—she pulled back a little, still frowning. She tipped her head back and dropped her voice. “I don’t like secrets.”

  I shook my head. “No secrets. Not from you.”

  “That’s a lie—”

  My mouth was on hers, and as I knew it would, the kiss pushed her little resistance aside, distracting her completely.

  I was a demon. We’re all assholes.

  STILL KELLAN

  “Kellan, dude.”

  My blood froze. The human was not talking to me.

  I looked.

  His mouth moved, grinning as he stuffed a rolled-up piece of pizza inside. “What are you and the missus doing for Christmas?”

  It was.

  He was talking to me.

  Damien’s pet gestured toward Damien, who had frozen beside him. “This one just says you all are going home for the break but won’t say when.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Did this child not have any sense of self-preservation? Did he not realize what could happen if I was in a bad mood?

  Damien shot me a look.

  I’m sure Shay would be miffed if I turned this human into mist, but I entertained the thought. This was the human who seemed to be getting an indication there was something not of human descent about the three of us.

  Crowman, they called him.

  Crowman was stupid.

  I leaned forward and held up my hand. “I could break your neck with the snap of my fingers.”

  He stopped chewing. His eyes lifted to study me.

  Study. Pfft.

  He should fear me.

  I was going soft. I’d been around too many humans, been in love—no, not that. This wasn’t Shay. I loved her with everything in me, the good and bad, but I was a demon. I’d been ignoring my roots for too long.

  A bit of the rage from before began swirling inside of me.

  It crept in through cracks I’d ignored, and it began filling me.

  Shay gasped in my head.

  Shit.

  She was in here. I tried to push her out, but—

  “No, you won’t!”

  Damien’s eyes went wide. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  The darkness had nearly engulfed me. At Shay’s discovery, it pushed faster, coming with more ferocity.

  I did want to kill this human.

  Kill him. Kill him.

  I did. I actually wanted to do this.

  There was a faint sound of chairs scraping in the background, but I was focused on him. He froze completely. I had a hold on him. He couldn’t move, not an inch. His eyes rolled in their sockets. I could smell the frantic fear on him, and if I were letting him move, he would’ve run by now.

  I sensed others leaving the dining hall. The room was fast emptying.

  Other humans had better life instincts than this one.

  “Kellan!” Shay’s nails sunk into my arm, and she wrenched it from the table. “No!”

  She yanked me out of whatever spell I’d been in.

  I looked around and realized the black mist wasn’t just in me. It was all over the room, filling it up, going into every corner.

  I turned, almost dazed, and realized I was still holding Damien’s friend. I had paralyzed him. I released him, and he scrambled backward. His pants were wet. He hit the floor on his back but was immediately back up and took off for the exit.

  “What just happened?” Damien stood, stepping back from the table. He moved to stand between his friend, who was out of the room by now, and me.

  Shay groaned and snapped her fingers.

  The smell of smoke mixed with my mist.

  A moment later, someone yelled, “Fire!”

  The alarm sounded.

  It was only the three of us left, and for a beat, no one said a word.

  I fought the rage, trying to suck the mist back inside me. But it lingered in the air.

  “Wha—” Damien started to speak when the door opened behind him.

  The alarm grew louder, and his friend—the one I had frozen—stepped back in the room. His face was set, guarded, his fists opening and closing at his side. Then, he lifted his head, his hands unfisted, and he strode back toward us.

  Shay moved to stand between him and me.

  I moved to the side so he could still see me, and his gaze never wavered.

  A few yards away, he stopped and looked at Damien for a second. Then back to me.

  “What just happened?” he asked.

  I snorted, but Shay rounded on me, giving me her look of death.

  I shut up.

  “Crow—” Damien stepped toward him.

  “No, dude.” He moved back a step, and Damien halted. He looked back at me. “I know something just happened, and I know you did it. I—” His throat moved up and down. He blinked a few times, rapidly, before his chest lifted and held. “I couldn’t move, and I knew you were going to kill me. I…” He edged back another step. “To tell the truth, I still feel like you’re going to kill me.”

  He was right. I still wanted to.

  The black mist thickened and swirled around in the room.

  Crowman saw it and moved to the side.

  “That’s smoke,” Shay said.

  He turned to her and looked up.

  The mist had engulfed the room’s sprinkler. Yet not one drop of water had come out of it.

  “That’s not smoke.”

  “Kellan.” A loud voice filled the space.

  Shay sucked in her breath. Damien did too before both sets of eyes went to me.

  “Who is that?” Damien asked.

  I ignored him.

  “What?” I asked impatiently

  “You need to come to me, son.”

  Like hell I would. “How are you reaching me?”

  “I can always reach you. You need to come to me. I need to speak to you.”

  “No—”

  “It’s about your messenger—”

  No! “NO!” Shay screamed that in my head and out loud, but I was gone.

  Anything that had to do with her, I would always put her first—even if it was Satan himself calling to me.

  KELLAN IN HELL NOW

  It takes a while to get to hell, which I guess is kinda fitting, given the theme of it being hell. It’s not a short trip down or up. I knew my father could’ve been toying with me, baiting me by saying this was about Shay, but he’d never done that before.

  If it was a lie, he was planning something else. What that was, who knew? But there would’ve been rumors. Other demons would’ve been skittish when they saw me. I would’ve felt the Earth rumbling—that actually happened sometimes. I would’ve smelled the deceit.

  For us higher demons, that was a thing. Fear. Lies. Sexual arousal. Everything had a smell. Everything had its own energy. We could tap into all of it.

  An
d truth also had its own feel, texture, smell.

  I’d smelled truth from my father. Hence me coming down here.

  Shay was pissed. I could feel it from her. We were still connected. We’d always be connected, but I’d put so many guards and walls around her now. I didn’t want her feeling and sensing everything alongside me once I did get through the barrier. And what would be worse was other demons picking up that I was bonded to a half-messenger.

  I was sure they could feel her presence on me, so the more distance in our connection, the better.

  Demons loved torturing messengers. Some would gladly die for one chance to unleash pain on a messenger. They didn’t care what kind of messenger—half, full, an asshole, or someone loved like Shay. They didn’t care. The hate went deep.

  When I arrived at the barrier, I could feel the guards on the other side.

  They never stopped anyone from coming down here. All were welcome. But once you got in, staying in one piece was another story.

  I moved through the barrier, and immediately the guards corporealized and moved toward me.

  I knew them. Both were higher demons, guards for my father.

  “You knew I was coming,” I said.

  Aardvin moved forward, his eyes gleaming.

  Why wasn’t I surprised he’d picked a hideous body? There were boils on his skin, warts, and sores festering. He’d always been off in his tastes about who to torture.

  “We’re here to escort you to your father,” he said. “He wants to make sure you arrive…alive. You’ve been above for so long, we thought you might’ve gone soft.” He hissed the last word, finding enjoyment in the insult.

  This whole show was an insult, this thinking I wouldn’t be able to travel through the Underworld to my father.

  I was already moving.

  A scythe appeared before me, and I grabbed it, acting before either of them could react.

  A slice to the left, a step forward, and another slice to the right. Since they had corporealized, their heads slid off, falling with a thud to the ground.

  Their eyes rolled toward me, their mouths still in smirks.

  They weren’t dead. The rules were different in the Underworld, but it’d be a bitch for them to reattach when I was done, and they needed to reattach before moving back to their non-corporeal forms.

  I raised the scythe and went to work. “You got it all wrong,” I told them. “I’ve been resting. Now I’m all charged up.”

  I didn’t leave them in pieces when I’d finished.

  They were in slivers.

  BLOODY KELLAN

  They weren’t the last.

  More demons met me on the path.

  The scythe appeared each time.

  It wasn’t mine. The scythe appeared for me. If I weren’t supposed to, it wouldn’t have shown itself. When they appeared, it was considered an honor in the Underworld.

  As a result, when I got to my father’s residence, I was covered in blood. It dripped down my arms and fingers. My legs were soaked in it. I left bloody footprints behind me, all the blood of others.

  It was glorious, and the demon in me writhed in pleasure.

  On his front steps was a large podium, a hundred stairs leading up into the sky, up to where he looked down upon me.

  That’s when I knew he loved this.

  He loved what I had done.

  I had fed my demon, and he knew it.

  His nostrils flared, smelling the blood on me. I could sense his pride. “You are still my son.”

  His words drifted down to me, on a breeze he had created for them.

  I didn’t respond because I couldn’t deny it.

  I was who he had borne.

  No other guards came out to meet me. They were there, but they were hiding or holding back on my father’s orders. Either way, I ignored them and turned into my non-corporeal self. I moved up, floating to the podium my father stood on.

  He didn’t non-corporealize. He waited, studying me, sensing into me. He was probably picking up things I didn’t want him to know, things I didn’t know myself, so I tried to resist him. He was my Master, and I was his son, so a thread of resistance was built into me when I was born. It was the natural order for a son to defy his father.

  I had been using that muscle the entire time I was gone, building it up, making it stronger. It was now my spinal cord, and it throbbed under my father’s perusal.

  He took the form of an old man, his skin wrinkled, his hair white. He had a slight hunch to his back, but it was all a guise. He could take any form he wanted—human, animal, alien. He could even show his wings, though I’d only glimpsed them once in my life.

  “I’m here,” I told him. “Tell me why I’m here.”

  He hissed, glaring, the wrinkles moving around his mouth. “Respect, my son. It still works that way down here.”

  Maybe.

  My spinal cord retracted, growing veins and roots, grabbing hold of my other nerves and bones with a firm grip. I was still non-corporeal, but I could feel my resistance shifting, adapting. It was molding, making almost a new skin. I wondered what I would look like when I retook my human body.

  But I was more powerful in this form. “I am here. That is a form of respect. You know I’ve defied you, remaining above and with Shay.”

  He hissed at her name, coiling backward. “You will not use her name. I can smell her on you. It’s disgusting.” His eyes flashed, smoke coming from them.

  “She is my soulmate. You will show respect for that. I am bonded with her.”

  “I’m aware. I can feel her presence even now. She’s more powerful than you think. She can see things you don’t want her to see, read your thoughts. She’s in your mind when you don’t know she is. She is a plague. I never should’ve let you go above to get her for me.”

  For him.

  I defied him there first, staying and not returning with her. But he wasn’t entirely displeased.

  “What is it that you have to share with me?” I asked.

  This was not the most respectful conversation with the King of the Underworld, but he would not have called for me if he didn’t want to have it. I would not have been allowed entry as easily as I was. Entire armies could have stood between myself and him, but none of that had happened.

  In his way, he had given me a path of gifts. I had murdered them, but that was the gift. That told me everything.

  He wanted me to hear whatever he had to say.

  I just needed to wait him out. That, and try not to get killed.

  He was silent a long time. I remained quiet, also showing respect in this way.

  “There is a prophecy,” he finally said.

  There it was. I knew it.

  I hated prophecies.

  FUCKING PROPHECIES

  YES, I’M STILL KELLAN

  I could feel Shay calling to me, pulling at me to return to her.

  I was moving, still traveling in my non-corporeal self, but I kept her locked out of my mind. I needed space to think about what my father had told me.

  “A fallen messenger is coming. His wings were taken, and he will amass a great battle to win his way back to the heavens. He will find his answer in your soulmate. She is bonded to you and, therefore, seen as a plight to the Messenger ancestry. He will seek to eradicate her and further take out the good in you. He will then battle you, sending you back to the Underworld, ridding Earth of both ends of the soul-bond. When this happens, his wings will be returned to him, and he will be allowed entry back to the beyond. This is how it is said.”

  When the words left my father, I knew they were true. I felt the power of the prophecy, felt the roots they stemmed from, and it was not from him. He had not created the prophecy.

  If Shay were killed, he was right—she was the only good in me. I would be a full-blooded demon if I weren’t bonded to her.

  “Kellan.”

  I felt her now, heard her voice in my head, and I allowed her in.

  “What’s going on?”


  She felt my concern, and now I could feel hers.

  “I’m coming back to you.”

  “What did your father say?”

  I let her go through my thoughts.

  When she was done, I felt her withdrawal before she asked, “You think he’s telling the truth?”

  I moved to her, prodding into her mind. I wanted access to what she was thinking. I could feel her fear and also her surprise that my father would be truthful.

  “You think he’s telling you this because he’s your father?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can sense your worry, but we’ve battled other messengers before.”

  I didn’t respond because this would be different. The prophecy had already been spoken. It would happen. This messenger was unlike the others. He had a mission, a quest. He would be committed. He would be brimming with power.

  I could already feel the battle coming.

  I would have to prepare Shay, but that wasn’t for now.

  I needed a distraction. “Tell me about the holiday plans you have. I know you’ve been conspiring against me while I was gone.”

  I sensed her smile as she relaxed, just a little. “I have!”

  She told me while I traveled back to her.

  Damien’s fraternity was having a party. Some of Shay’s college friends wanted to do a Christmas cocktail event on a rooftop of a building. It was going to be classy, so we needed to dress up. There would be caroling. And a hayride with eggnog.

  And the worst one—

  “I want to put a Christmas tree up in our house.”

  IT’S MY TURN

  SHAY

  Kellan was scared.

  That said everything.

  I knew he was shielding parts of the prophecy. I could feel his walls, and I probed, but he didn’t want me to hear it all. I didn’t understand why, but I had to trust him. He was my soulmate. He wouldn’t keep it from me unless I wasn’t supposed to know. But I knew he was scared.

  And now I was, too. Immediately, I felt his regret.

  That’s why he didn’t want me to hear it all. He didn’t want this result.

  I made a concerted effort to shove out my fear.

  I replaced that with trust, love, and assurance.