The Last Unforgiven - Freed (Demons, #5)

by Simcoe, Marina

  “Is that what the problem is, Raim?” I asked softly. “That I’m probably related to Olyena?”

  He slid his hands up my thighs and rested his chin on my knees. “It is a huge problem, Dee. But not in a way you think.”

  “Tell me.” I raked my fingers through the thick, mahogany waves of his hair.

  He gave me a penetrating stare then heaved a sigh.

  “I may. Later. Let me think about all of this on my own for now.”

  RAIM

  They spent the day together. Dee was obviously trying to distract him from his heavy thoughts. She asked for a tour of the castle, and he readily obliged, showing her the grand ballroom and the spacious wine cellar—along with everything else he had equipped this place with for no other purpose but to have an occupation over the past few centuries.

  She insisted on helping him make her dinner that night, and he taught her how to make one of the recipes he had now mastered. Afterwards, they ate in the formal dining room, together. Dee had her meal, and he feasted on every little morsel of her energy that came his way, complementing it with a glass of vintage red wine.

  He made love to her again that night.

  Raim hated to see the dark feeling of worry and unease underneath her enjoyment throughout the day, but he was grateful to Dee for giving him this time to simply be with her.

  In her, he sensed the need for him, which he found the most irresistible. Feeding that need gave him a true satisfaction he had never experienced before. He did not believe he could ever have it with anyone else, even had he lived for many centuries more.

  Except that he didn’t have centuries anymore, not in this world. He had come to terms with that. He had even believed that the rest of the Incubi, the race he had led and protected throughout most of his existence, would be better off leaving here, too.

  What he could not accept or rationalize in any way was that as one of the descendants of a demon, Dee would cease to exist as well.

  After she fell asleep in his arms that night, he kissed her hair and freed himself from her embrace.

  Pacing the halls of the empty castle, a glass of wine in his hand, he churned over this new knowledge.

  Sooner or later Dee’s life would come to an end, as was the norm. No human lived forever. What difference did it make if it happened a month or forty years from now? More happy events might happen in her life if she lived longer, but also some that might make her cry or break her heart again.

  Without asking, though, he knew that if given a choice, Dee would prefer to live for as long as possible. If given a choice, he wished to remain at her side for the rest of her life, too, if only to annihilate anyone who would ever dare to make her cry.

  Whatever happened to him, to all of the Incubi or to the rest of the world, he needed Dee to be happy.

  ‘All humans die.’

  The indisputable truth of this statement made his blood boil with rage. With a deep growl, he tossed his wine glass at the nearest wall.

  Watching the priceless wine trickle down the dark paneling, he knew he could not accept death as far as Dee was concerned. More than anything, he wanted to keep her out of harm’s way.

  The Priory and entire planet could go up in flames as long as Dee kept the inner peace she had just found.

  He would do anything for that to happen, but he needed help to figure out exactly what could be done.

  Taking his phone out, he entered a number he’d never forgotten.

  “Andras.” The demon on the other end picked it up on the first ring.

  “Stolas,” Raim corrected by way of a greeting. “I know you’ve been searching for me. I’ll tell you where you can find me.”

  Chapter 16

  THE TIME SPENT WITH Raim by my side was everything at once—quiet, cozy, and madly passionate.

  Throughout the day I sensed tension in him, which unnerved me. He had shared with me the most sacred parts of himself. The fact that he wouldn’t open up about something now bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

  At the same time, I didn’t want to pressure him when he gently evaded my probing questions.

  The day after he had discovered the broken grate, I asked to use his phone and spent the day catching up on my emails, then called my practice to make sure all was taken care of. As I had thought, no one worried about me. My friends and colleagues were giving me space and time to deal with my ‘personal problems.’

  Raim happened to be the only one who had refused to give me any ‘personal space’. Instead, he had invaded it fully and made my problems his business. For that, I would be forever grateful to him.

  That night, after we went to bed together, I woke up alone.

  It was still dark outside, just a thin golden line of lights along the coast of Italy shimmered on the horizon.

  I missed Raim’s body next to me. Desperately. But he didn’t need sleep. I understood that he would possibly get bored, lying motionlessly in bed for hours, and would go do something else instead.

  Yanking his pillow to me, I wrapped my arms around it and buried my face into his lingering scent, trying to go back to sleep.

  A male voice from downstairs startled me, sweeping any remnants of sleep away. Another voice joined it, neither of them Raim’s. Despite the distance, I would have recognized his cadence even if I couldn’t make out the words.

  Both voices immediately lowered in volume, reduced to a distant hum that blended with the rolling sound of the waves outside. Still, I could no longer think about going back to sleep.

  Someone was in the castle. Concern for Raim’s safety propelled me out of bed, aided by curiosity.

  Surely Raim would have told me if he expected visitors. Why did they come at night? And how did they even get here?

  Grabbing the first piece of clothing at hand, which happened to be Raim’s long tunic, I threw in on and hurried out of the room.

  The heavy, old door creaked loudly when I opened it, and I froze for a moment. The muted voices downstairs kept talking. The men obviously hadn’t heard me. I quietly stole along the hallway then down the stairs and across the foyer of the main floor.

  The people who visited Raim at this hour were conversing in the small drawing room at the front of the castle. A draft of air against my bare feet, followed by the sound of the surf in the distance, told me that the tall windows to the walk-out in that room must be open.

  I snuck all the way to the arched entrance then stopped, hidden by the wall, choosing to remain unseen for now.

  The conversation sounded strained but not hostile at the moment.

  “May I offer you a drink?” Raim asked politely, with the old icy ring in his tone.

  I exhaled in relief at hearing his voice—he was there, obviously unharmed.

  RAIM

  “What whisky do you have?” Eligor boomed in reply to his question then added before he had a chance to answer, “You know what, I’ll see for myself.” He moved to the liquor cabinet, shouldering Raim aside.

  Raim widened his stance, crossing his arms over his chest, and forced down his rising temper. He did not call them here to fight or argue, no matter how much Eligor was trying to bait him.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Sytry lifted the water bottle he had brought with him.

  Sytrius, Raim’s memory provided him with the name the demon had been using for a number of centuries now.

  He considered making an exception to his own rule, and call them all by the names of their choosing, instead of the ones they had been given as demons. That would place them all on equal ground, wouldn’t it? He had been their Grand Master for too long. He had forgotten how to speak with his own kind, other than giving orders.

  “We’re not here to drink or to exchange pleasantries,” Valefor said, brief and to the point, as always.

  Valefor, the current Grand Master of the Eastern Counsel, currently went by Vadim as Raim remembered.

  “We’ve been searching for you everywhere.” Andras’s voice held urgency.
“Literally, all over the globe—Turkey, Switzerland, Singapore, Shetland Islands—”

  “I sold that property long ago,” Raim said, referring to the one on the Shetland Islands. “Too cold.”

  “When did you get this one?” Andras glanced around the room. “No one knew about this island.”

  “Because I didn’t want anyone to know.” Despite his best intentions, his reply sounded curt. “There aren’t that many places where I could be left alone, apparently. Obviously, I didn’t want to be found.”

  “We had questions.” Vadim sent him a glare.

  “And I didn’t care to answer them.” Raim shrugged.

  Old habits were hard to shake off, he was not used to accounting for his actions to anyone. Having to explain himself now annoyed him.

  “You called me last night,” Andras reminded, his tone calm and pacifying. “You wanted us here.”

  “Now is the time to start talking, Raim,” Eligor—Ivarr—said gruffly, sipping his whiskey. “Why did you call?”

  Raim drew in a breath. Finding himself in the position of needing help was unusual. Asking for it felt nearly impossible. But necessary. For Dee.

  “I need to relay some information about my recent meeting with The Priory Elder.”

  “The bastard is refusing to meet with either Vadim or Andras.” Ivarr plopped back into his chair.

  Raim shook his head.

  “He has no need to meet with any of us.”

  “Yet he came to see you,” Andras pointed out.

  “To gloat,” Raim scoffed, recalling the old man’s behaviour during their meeting. “The Elder is planning to exterminate all of us by the end of the next month. He couldn’t contain his glee while delivering the news to me in person.”

  “And you didn’t wring his wrinkly neck right then and there?” Ivarr roared with indignation.

  Andras lifted his hand in a calming gesture. “Ivarr.”

  Raim gritted his teeth in annoyance.

  “I said to keep it down,” he growled, resisting a glance towards the hallway. He wouldn’t be able to see Dee sleeping in the bedroom upstairs, anyway. There was no need to give the demons any hints to her presence in the castle.

  “We are aware of The Priory’s extermination plan,” Andras spoke. “Last year, Vadim was summoned by one of the Monks gone rogue—”

  “I know.” The news of the Grand Master of the Eastern Council having been summoned reached him shortly after it happened. He had already given up his position by then and cut off all direct communication with either Council. However, the information networks he had built for centuries, using other demons and even some unsuspecting humans, weren’t that quick to dismantle themselves.

  “You knew?” Andras gaped at him. “And you still kept hiding?”

  “I left the Council in your capable hands, Sto . . . Andras, and delivered you from my presence.” Sarcasm slipped into his tone. “Did you expect me to stick around and lead you by your hand every step of the way?”

  “Of course not,” the demon huffed. “But withholding any information from us—”

  “I knew nothing that you didn’t already know or wouldn’t have discovered soon enough. My involvement was not necessary.” Raim pinched the bridge of his nose, planting his elbow onto the armrest of his chair. How did he end up in the position of having to defend himself?

  “Who told you about my summons?” Vadim glared at him suspiciously, as if Raim had colluded with the person who summoned him.

  “I have my sources,” he replied evasively, not inclined to reveal his methods, even if most of the networks weren’t functioning anymore.

  “So, you hide on this island, refusing to answer our questions, yet keep your nose in our business?” Ivarr’s voice rose again.

  “Quiet,” Raim bit out. “I did not call you here for you to question my actions. I wanted to share some information that I’ve come upon. I have reason to believe you do not have it and have no way of getting it from anyone else.”

  “What information?” Vadim asked sharply.

  “From the Elder?” Andras leaned closer.

  “Exactly.”

  “As I said,” Andras continued. “We know that The Priory is planning to exterminate us all, the moment all of the Incubi have been Forgiven.”

  “Have you?” Raim asked quickly, unable to deny the restless need to make sure all of them were indeed safe now. “Are all of you the Forgiven?”

  Silence hung heavily in the room for a few moments.

  “You are the last one left,” Vadim confirmed.

  “Good.” Relief flooded him from the inside as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off his chest.

  “Good that you are the only one who is still immortal and therefore invincible?” Sytrius gave him a penetrating stare.

  “No. Good that you are finally free of your curse.”

  Sytrius kept eye contact for a moment longer, obviously not trusting Raim’s words. Unperturbed, he let him stare and search. Emotions inside a demon were never as clear as they were in a human, but Raim was confident Sytrius would be able to figure out that he was not lying. Raim’s agenda for calling them all here was in line with their own interests.

  “Anyway,” Andras attempted to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. “We’re not sure if the Elder wants to wait until you have earned your Forgiveness, too—”

  “He’d have to wait for a very long time,” Raim huffed a laugh.

  Vadim interjected, “We have been taking measures to protect ourselves in case they attacked sooner.”

  “There is no way to protect the Incubi from what the Elder has planned.” Raim shook his head. “Has he made you aware of the soros urn that The Priory holds in their possession?” Raim moved his gaze between Andras and Vadim. As the two Grand Masters, they would be the most likely to have received that information if the Elder had shared it at all.

  “Soros urn?” Andras repeated in confusion.

  Vadim was also ignorant on the matter, judging by his expression.

  “I guess he hasn’t.” Raim exhaled heavily. “For reasons unknown, one of the hundreds of soros urns that brought our physical bodies to Earth did not shatter on impact. It remained untouched.”

  “The Priory found it?” Vadim guessed.

  “When?” Andras frowned.

  “More than six centuries ago. They built their monastery over it. The main church in the compound—the one where no Incubi are allowed to enter during our visits—houses the urn, still embedded into the ground where it fell.”

  “Whose urn was it?” Sytrius asked. “Which one of us arrived in it?”

  “I have no idea,” Raim replied, honestly. “But I don’t think it matters.”

  “How do you know about all of this?” Vadim demanded, suspicion still strong in his voice. “Why would The Priory share that with you, but not with anyone else?”

  The phantom fire of chants licked hot against his skin, bringing back the six-hundred-year-old memory he would have been happy to lose for good—if only that were possible.

  “I was the one who read and translated the urn’s carvings for The Priory.” He made an extra effort to keep his voice calm, though the confession painfully scraped at his throat on its way out. “Back when the organization was first formed.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” Ivarr growled, slamming both hands into the armrests of his chair hard enough to make the antique wood splinter. “You gave them power over us!”

  “I was summoned.” Raim kept his tone even, in his mind trying to distance himself from the pain and indignity of that day.

  “You yielded.” Sytrius glared at him accusingly. “And you never told any of us.”

  The mistrust in all of their stares now pained more than the memory of the summons.

  “How long were you under contract with the human?” Vadim demanded, his voice and expression grave. “What else did you do under his orders?”

  “Nothing else. I killed him the
same day and freed myself.” Raim emptied his wine in one gulp, wishing he had gone for whiskey instead. Neither would give him the haze of intoxication, but the stronger burn of the hard liquor would possibly distract him from the resentment in the fiery glares of the demons.

  “Impossible.” Andras shook his head. “A summoner’s bond lasts until the end of his life. There is no way for an unmated Incubus to escape the bond once it has been established.”

  “Everything is possible,” Raim retorted grimly, no longer hoping they would understand or believe him.

  “Only the love of the demon’s Mistress can break the chants,” Vadim argued.

  “So can the rage of a lone demon,” Raim said firmly, setting his empty glass on the side table and rising from his chair. Anger stirred in him, roiling and churning like hot lava under the cool crust of his composure—hidden but always there. “I have fed on human aggression for centuries, growing and nurturing it in my heart. Do you think I would ever let some puny human assert his power over me? Enslave my very essence, take me under his control? My rage was my weapon. I used it, with nothing to lose, killing him and freeing myself.”

  “That’s why they’ve left you alone.” Ivarr gave him a measuring look, and Raim believed there was a hint of admiration in it this time. “They knew your demon name all along, but no one dared to summon you again.”

  “He did gain control over you, though.” Vadim rose from his seat, taking a wide stance. “Enough to read the carvings, you said.”

  Raim stretched his neck, buying a moment for his emotions to settle. Composure was the true sign of strength to him, the ability to gain control over everything, even his boundless anger.

  “What do the carvings say?” Andras asked, the one demon who never seemed to get angry.

  “They say,” Raim cleared his throat, “that if either a human or a demon touches it, this world will be cleared of our presence in it. Everyone with any demonic blood in them would vanish—”

  “To the last drop,” Andras said softly, probably thinking about the warning Raim had given him when leaving the Incubi Base.