by Rhyll Biest
‘I see purpose in your eyes.’ Lore’s tone was approving.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, ‘for the extra juice.’
‘Use it wisely. I’m counting on you to survive the transformation.’
‘That’s my preference too.’
Lore gave a nod. ‘That’s our business concluded.’ With a flourish of her hand, snowflakes multiplied in the hundreds to surround her in a glittering twister until she vanished inside the eddy of snow and ice. When it subsided, there was nothing but a sprinkling of frost on the ground.
Valeda’s chest heaved, and for a moment she feared her new maleficence was trying to punch its way out of her chest to follow Lore home like some devoted hound. But you’re mine now. Sit. Stay.
She rested a hand on her sternum and gradually her blood’s frantic struggle settled and she could breathe again. She no longer worried that the maleficence would try to burst out of her chest and run off after Lore, leaving a trail of tiny bloody footprints in its wake.
She snorted at the fanciful thought. She was growing as silly as the roller derby demons.
Now that she had the strength to do what she needed to do, it was time to do it, before Adriel’s transformation curse became irreversible.
***
Back at camp Valeda searched the armoury for suitable weapons. Although she would take her extra maleficence from Mnenmos, also carrying a decent spear and sword couldn’t hurt. As Valeda exited the armoury, Justice strode towards her, her flame-red armour dripping gore. ‘Have you seen the captain?’
Valeda raised her brows at the she-demon’s grim tone. ‘He was still sleeping when I last checked. What’s wrong?’
‘He’s not there, or anywhere else, and our troops are surrounded by Paimon’s legions at the north border.’
A dozen questions rushed her. Where was Adriel? And why had Lymenia not been able to keep Paimon’s enemy legions at bay? Had she been injured, or worse?
But there wasn’t time to search for answers. Fira, Missy, Razorclit, Bad Karma and perhaps Adriel as well could all be fighting for their lives.
Her hand went to the baby food container in her tunic pocket. If she took it now, would the damage to the wall incapacitate her? She couldn’t afford that risk. ‘Port me there,’ she told Justice.
The she-demon narrowed her orange eyes. ‘To the battlefield? You?’
Valeda’s hand twitched and she looked down at it. For a second she could have sworn someone had whispered to her that she should slap Justice hard for such an insolent question.
Ah. The former host of her new juice.
Memories she’d expected, but not voices in her head. No wonder archdemons went bonkers.
‘Yes, me. Do it now.’ Her voice sounded harder, much harder than it had before. And not entirely hers.
Justice looked abashed. ‘Yes, princess.’ She tucked a bunch of red hair behind her ear as she opened a vein and drew a blood portal on the ground.
Valeda stepped inside it with her and the deep freeze of nothingness hugged them for three long seconds before letting go.
Valeda looked around her. They stood atop a bare hill providing a clear view of the battlefield below. Fanned around the bottom of the hill were the captain’s retreating forces, the legion columns contracting as they fell back rapidly. Around them, on every side, were Paimon’s forces, all of them in green armour. From above they appeared as rotting clots upon the earth.
Just the thought of destroying so many soldiers made her tired. Was that the new maleficence eating at her physical energy as it changed her? Never mind, she would overcome fatigue to trounce her brother’s legions.
She waited, so accustomed to pain at the thought of her brother that its absence unsettled her. Still, that odd feeling was a whisper of freedom, a hint at what was to come once she’d done what was necessary. A smile filled with bloody thoughts stretched her lips.
Her gaze rested on Justice. The she-demon’s hands were clenching and unclenching as she surveyed the scene, fear for her trapped comrades written in the tight lines of her body.
‘Help the retreating commanders,’ she told Justice.
The she-demon nodded and jogged down the hill, red aura trailing behind her like wings.
Tired body protesting, Valeda descended the hilltop to get a closer view of the enemy soldiers. The way they moved was odd; it was halting and jerky, like automatons. They had to be the reanimated soldiers Adriel had mentioned. The way they moved, awkwardly but much faster than shambling zombies, sent a trickle of unease down her spine. They surged forward with great purpose, bits of bloody meat falling from their open mouths as they gnashed their own tongues. What controlled them? What tethered them to her brother’s will?
A current stirred the air.
We smell an archdemon, the new maleficence in her blood whispered.
Who?
She received no answer.
Unsettled, she descended the hill and waded into the swarm of retreating soldiers, catching sight of Bad Karma and Fanny Tastic. Bad Karma, her bad knee still heavily bandaged, lurched drunkenly from side to side as she carried the badly injured Fanny Tastic over her shoulder, Fanny Tastic’s face covered in blood.
Valeda looked away; she had to focus. Maybe twenty thousand enemy troops were moving in from all sides, an army of salivating, champing dead animated by something other than air, blood and muscle. If the army of reanimated were running free, what had happened to Cinna’s control over them?
Focus.
Closing her eyes, despite every rational part of her screaming against the idea, she called on the glorious new maleficent beast inside her, slipped a halter over its head and dragged it, furious, to the surface. It protested, sluggish to wake until it caught the scent of blood and eagerly raised its head. Hundreds of legion boots hammered as heavily as hooves against the ground, the sound pounding her ears and straining her nerves as she reached for her ill-gotten strength and harnessed it.
When she opened her eyes they were upon her, the dead soldiers wielding their swords, their terrible sightless eyes glistening in the moonlight, their foul breath cold against her skin as they reached for her.
But even as the first hand closed around her left arm, and a sword split the flesh on her right arm, an arctic blast rolled out of her in a fog, slamming into the soldiers and freezing them solid, the force of it causing some to shatter. Those that fell made way for more frozen death to roll over the rest of the legion.
The soldiers were already dead, so she was really just gluing them in place, and yet the destruction was still terrible to watch. Two hundred metres, five hundred, the mist rolled out for a mile, felled trees as it hit them, and then spread to engulf the next legion. Whoever or whatever controlled them failed to draw them back quickly enough and she froze everything in her path, burying it beneath an avalanche of power.
When she paused, head swimming, for a breather, nothing but silence met her ears.
A very unnatural silence.
She tried to draw a deep breath but frowned at a constricting pressure around her lungs. A glance down at herself revealed her body was armoured in thick ice, a frozen corset restricting her breathing. How in nine realms did she undo it? She closed her eyes and consulted the maleficence inside her. At first, all she got was static and she sweated it out as the minutes drew on. Then, a whisper. Work it out yourself, stupid.
She really did have to find out from Lore whose maleficence she’d eaten. Obviously someone quite rude.
Oh, suck it up, princess, this is no time for a pity party. Here, here’s how. Don’t say we never helped you.
As she defrosted, chunks of ice slid from her so that she resembled a glacier calving icebergs. Soon she breathed free again and was able to see her own body.
Where she’d been cut on her arm her flesh had already knitted back together. Had the extra juice increased her regenerative powers? She stared at the healed wound, a prickling, crawling sensation creeping up her spine. Already she’
d changed on a fundamental level. But there was no time to think about that now. She jogged back up the hilltop to find the rest of the reanimated legions. They’d retreated into unfrozen forest where her rolling fog had less reach and it was more difficult to spot them. As she considered her options, her gaze fell on the thousands of glinting figures filling the plains. How long would they remain that way? Forever? Had she created her own forest of ice?
A flash of movement caught her eye. She squinted at it, then sent the deep freeze of her fog rolling towards it, frowning as it kept course, weaving and ducking among the frozen dead.
Crush it. Crush your enemy.
Her new power flexed under her skin, eager to freeze all nine realms of Hell into an arctic wasteland if it meant victory.
Yes, that’s the spirit. Freeze that fucker.
She obeyed, rolling out a great arctic wave that turned the plains white. Thick frost formed on her skin but still the figure moved forward, stalking her through the forest she’d created.
The new guests inside her whispered suggestions to her, terrible, dark things she hadn’t even known were possible, as she followed the figure’s progress. It darted between two frozen figurines and with just a thought she exploded them. The ice shot high into the air with a pistol crack. She did the same to more figures. It was really—crack—quite—crack—enjoyable.
But when the spray settled, the grey figure remained gliding steadily closer towards her.
How had it withstood her?
The figure paused twenty metres away, and a flash of grey hair emerged, features.
Sweet Lilith’s tits.
Paimon. She barely recognised her once fair-faced brother. He stood before her a pastiche of scabs, a collage of clotted wounds that opened, weeped and closed as he self-repaired. Where his skin opened, grey blood and serum stained his skin. As he approached her, his gait uneven, his eyes remained fixed on her, luminous with intent.
Black stained his grey aura, which was bloated, sheathed in glorious rot and power, and spread wide as wings
What had happened to him? And how was it that after all that he’d done to her, after all the times she’d vowed to kill him, that it still hurt to see him so ruined?
What had he done, her little brother?
Her new maleficence reacted to his proximity, champing and frothing with excitement. She tamped it down. Enraged, a hurricane of bitter whispers blew through her, a thousand voices strong.
Kill him. Now. Listen to us.
Paimon halted a metre from her. Her skin twitched at the power radiating from him.
He was very different. Ruined and yet strong. What had he done to himself? She knew what he’d done to her …
Long-dormant hate erupted within her.
How could he? How could anyone who professed to love another do what he had?
His lips moved and she was so focused on their sponginess, the obscene pith of his mouth, that she missed his first words.
‘… you again.’
His voice produced a scrabbling of a thousand fingernails against the wall in her mind. The things he’d done, the things he’d made her do …
Strike him down. Startled by the clarity of the voice commanding her from within, she spoke. ‘What happened to you?’
He raised a hand to his bound face. ‘Ah, yes, an unexpected side effect of my new powers, one that my friend didn’t warn me about. But I’ve never been vain about my looks.’
The damage was worse than cosmetic. Surely he retained some sense of self-preservation? Or had perversion and insanity finally toppled him?
‘Your friend? What friend?’
‘An archdemon.’ He smiled. ‘I knew she’d find a way to help us, and here you are, with me now.’
Help? He was rotting before her eyes and she’d lost her only chance at love. Rage, or rather, a sense of betrayal, gripped any remaining love she had for him firmly by the throat and squeezed the last breath from it. ‘What you’re doing is destroying both of us. Stop this madness.’
Madness can’t stop itself; it must be stopped.
She clenched her hands, fingernails biting her flesh, to resist the voice inside her driving her to act.
‘Madness, along with treachery, runs in our family. You should know that by now.’ Paimon studied her. ‘I just wanted to be with you, but you betrayed my trust. How very callous of you.’
He hurt you, pluck his eyes out, the maleficence inside her whispered. ‘Why did you send Mnemnos in your place?’
‘I didn’t. She was the jealous type, and she saw your note and took it upon herself to intervene. But I can hardly be angry with her, can I? Not when she saved me from fratricide.’
Valeda shrugged. ‘If my treachery offends you so much then why have you sought me out?’
‘Did I say that it offended me? Quite the contrary, I find it as delightful as I find you.’
‘Except for that one time. You didn’t find me delightful then.’ The hateful sound of chewing filled her ears. What was that? That’s you, the new voice inside her mocked, eating your lover’s heart as your brother feeds it to you. Hot and cold nausea spilled through her.
Paimon’s cheeks split open, oozing grey, as he gave a rueful smile. ‘Yes, except for that one unfortunate time. I’ll admit I lost my temper. Although we all make mistakes, don’t we? You, for example, when you set up an ambush that got Adriel’s brother chargrilled. Has he worked out your role in that yet?’
Her eyes narrowed. That guilt was hers alone, not to be shared.
He laughed at her silence. ‘No? Not very bright, is he?’
Guilt-slathered, she struck out. ‘Perhaps not as clever as you, no. But very loyal. He would have rescued Mnemnos, or tried to, if she’d been his lover.’
Curiosity lit her brother’s dove grey eyes. ‘Are you defending him? Do you have feelings for the clod?’
‘No.’ To admit that would be to draw all of her brother’s fury down on Adriel in addition to the curse. ‘Just pointing out his strong sense of loyalty. Which means he’ll never surrender until his king commands him to. I hope you’re prepared for a long war.’
Paimon studied the shattered trunks of his frozen reanimated army. ‘I’m in no hurry. But aren’t you worried you might run out of time?’
‘How so?’ She frowned.
‘A few more moon cycles and the captain’s transformation will become irreversible. You’ll be a princess wed to a hellhound, which is possibly a first for Hell, and we don’t see many of those.’
A rough, bitter noose dragged tight around her throat. Adriel had that little time left? Her eyes narrowed to slits as she stared at her brother. Did he really think she’d allow him to take Adriel from her?
Yessss. Let’s party. The unwelcome, bloodthirsty guests in her head clapped their hands.
She nudged at her brother’s particles, invited them to give in to her freezing embrace. No go. They resisted her in a way the flesh of his soldiers had not. Still, there was more than one option on the death menu.
Paimon’s lips parted in a dry chuckle. ‘You’ve grown more powerful but so have I.’ He extended a gloved hand to her. ‘Put away your resentment; it’s standing in the way of our love.’
Love? He didn’t know the fucking meaning of the word. She’d been choking on his love for three centuries, just as she’d choked on the raw heart of her slain lover. She drew her dagger and lunged at him.
As he reared back she fell upon him, driving her dagger deep through his eye and twisting it, scooping for brain. She kneed him in the gut, throwing her weight into it as Arvalis had taught her, and smashed her elbow into his still idiotically grinning mouth. His teeth shattered and a piece of lower lip flew by her face. Grey blood, thick as yoghurt, spattered her cheek and she reeled away, retching, desperate to escape the stench.
But it also felt good, so good, to fight back at last. Right up until she looked at what she’d done and saw the familiar line of his jaw. Her brother, she’d done this to her brother,
the one she made bookmarks for.
As she twisted, sickened by what she’d done, Paimon plucked the dagger from his eye. Black and grey clots dripped and splattered on the snow at his feet. He grinned, jaw and gum exposed by the gaping hole in his lip. ‘That all you got, sis?’
The only warning she had was a sharp ringing in her ears before her eardrums burst and a vacuum-like pressure tore her eyes from their sockets. Her own hot blood ran between her lips, filled her nostrils, and choked her.
A terrible time to discover that she hadn’t known what choking was, not its true meaning. It was a burning pressure inside the skull as the lungs filled with liquid instead of air.
The maleficence inside her squirmed and busied itself to repair her, but it retreated as her limbs snapped and ribs splintered inside her chest.
Sweet Lilith, every other hurt paled in comparison, even that of having her heart ripped from her chest. The pain was so annihilating she couldn’t have breathed even if her broken ribs had allowed it. Lungs and spirit deflated, she waited, a tiny bud of surprise niggling at her. Paimon had been, after all, willing to hurt her.
She hadn’t thought him capable of it. She’d misjudged him and because of her error, she wasn’t going to get to see Adriel again. Or her family. A wet, dark heavy blanket settled over her and urged her to sleep. Only her need to hold on to the image of Adriel’s face kept her from succumbing to the blanket’s narcotic drag. She scratched for her silent maleficence, tried to dig into consciousness and stay alive just a little bit longer by mentally gripping the image of Adriel’s face and locking it in even as the pain racking her grew to unmanageable dimensions and her brain tried to tap out.
A chill hand rested on her brow. Why was she still alive? Make it stop.
A wild kick and her maleficence flared, latched onto the freezing energy that was pouring into her, and clawed its way through her battered body, regenerating, healing, fortifying.
Adriel? Had he found her? Come to heal her? Her brother would kill him. She struggled.
Her eardrums popped and sound returned.
‘Shhh. Shhh.’ Lore’s voice, soft, cold and soothing, carried an undertone of reprimand.
