by Sam Cheever
He flinched.
My bad side came out in a big way and I had to force myself not to smile. I liked it when the big bad dark worlders were afraid of little ole me.
I’ll admit it.
“Now Depla, you and I both know that, since he has decided to go against the Royal Court, Alcott has lost his right to call himself a king. So, from now on, let’s just call him Ally, shall we?”
All three males turned to look at me with varying degrees of disbelief. I simply smiled at them and shrugged. “I like it. It sounds harmless and fun. Ally.”
Dialle chuckled softly and shook his dark head.
Gerch cracked his wide, craggy lips in what for him was a smile.
Depla’s eyes got even beadier if that were possible and filled with more hate.
“Also, never mention King Dialle’s name again without the king part. The royals are very sensitive on that point. Aren’t you Prince Dialle?”
“Yes we are, Mx. Phelps.” I looked at him and winked. He nearly choked.
I repositioned myself at Depla’s other shoulder, placing my finger on the first ear, which was still very red and had swelled to nearly twice its normal size.
“Now, let’s continue. How does Ally plan to talk King Dialle into letting the demons form your own court?”
Depla squinched his eyes shut like a child trying to ignore something he didn’t like. But he didn’t answer me.
I snorted. “You’re kidding me right?”
Depla just sat there, squinched.
Instead of the ear I placed my whole hand on his throat and threw my power at him. The beady, red eyes flew open and his mouth jerked wide on a soundless scream. His whole body started to jerk until I had to move my feet so the chair legs wouldn’t land on them. His arms and legs went completely stiff and pushed outward against the chains, ripping deep gouges across all four limbs as they jerked against the unrelenting restraints. Blood flooded from his pores and ran down his face and neck.
When I thought I’d made a strong enough impression on him I dropped my hand and stepped back, nodding to Dialle to finish the questioning.
I didn’t think he would need me anymore.
The demon slumped back into the chair, arms and legs finally going soft again but still jerking periodically with aftershocks. The long bristle hairs on his head and body were standing straight up in the air, waving comically in the cool death-washed breeze of the cavern. His head lay on his chest and his mouth was open, leaking saliva and blood down his shirt.
Gerch jerked the demon’s head upward with a large, craggy hand under his chin and then dropped it. “I think she killed him.” He said it as if he were discussing whether he should wear the black slacks or the blue. No more emotion than that.
I shook my head. “I felt his life force. I was monitoring it. I knocked him for quite a loop but he’s not dead.”
Dialle looked at me and arched one elegant black brow. “Remind me to bring a third along when I try to best you, my princess. You have certainly put the whoopass on this demon. I’m impressed.”
I laughed shakily. Using that much power had taken it out of me and I was glad for a chance to catch my breath and firm up my knees. “You really need to stop reading bad human novels, Dialle.”
He laughed and then turned and punched the demon hard in the stomach. Depla sat up with a gasp and then doubled over again, coughing.
Everybody knows the quickest way to a demon’s brain is through his stomach.
We waited until Depla retrieved his air and then Dialle placed a hand on either arm of the chair and fixed his formidable royal stare on the panting demon. “Tell me what you know about the plot, demon, or I will bring the lovely Mx. Phelps back to finish you off. Slowly.”
Depla’s watery gaze slid to me and then quickly away. “Kin… I mean A-Ally plans to capture humans and hold them hostage until the devil king agrees to meet with him to discuss our release.”
Dialle cocked his dark head in surprise. I watched the long, silky mass of his hair shift across broad, muscular shoulders and immediately forgot my weakened state. Licking my lips I slid my gaze down to that yummy backside and felt heat sliding downward to pool between my legs.
Hades! I gave myself a mental slap and jerked my gaze back to the demon. Nothing kills lust like looking at a demon.
“Are you telling me Alcott…”
I cleared my throat.
Dialle didn’t turn around but I saw his shoulders stiffen a bit in response to my gentle reminder. “Ally,” his voice held a smile, “only wants to entice the king to the table for talks?”
Depla nodded enthusiastically. Either he truly believed that or he was trying really hard to pretend he did.
Dialle stood up and turned away from Depla, looking me in the eyes as he asked the next question. “And what will he do if King Dialle refuses as he most certainly will?”
“He will start killing the human hostages. Then he will make it look like the royals are killing them.”
Dialle nodded, a strange smile flitting across his gorgeous face before he turned back to the demon. “And who is he working with in this questionable endeavor?”
Depla at first tried to pretend he didn’t understand the question but when Dialle shot me a look the demon quickly regained a couple of brain cells. “The k…Ally has not shared this information directly with me…” the demon sat up straighter and his red eyes stretched wide as Dialle turned a displeased countenance on him, “but I heard him talking to another.”
Dialle’s voice was no longer pleasant. It was apparent to everyone in that cavern that he had grown tired of playing the game. “What other?”
“The Supreme High Witch. I heard them discussing these plans together.”
Dialle turned to me. It appears our suspicions are correct, lovely Astra.
I nodded, frowning. Raoul would not be pleased with this information.
I moved toward the demon, intending to ask him a question. He jerked against his bonds so hard the chair left the floor and flew backward, dumping him on his back, feet and legs dangling in the air. “Please, Mx. Phelps, I’ve told you all I know.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t going to hurt him but I didn’t quite get the words out.
Flopping around on the floor until he could see me, Depla focused earnest red eyes on my face and said, “She has a human partner I think. Another witch. That’s all I heard, I swear upon my allegiance to the demon breed.”
My eyes flew to Dialle’s. His locked onto mine. Almost simultaneously we both shuffled our mental drawers and said, Shit!
Chapter Four
Trashed by the Past
Alas our lady’s family tree, is filled with spoiled fruit,
Its branches sport some deadly thorns and much bad news to boot.
I was in the cavern again, below the dubious Diablo’s tomb. The air was murky and thick, filled with a wet, gray fog that swelled into my mouth and nostrils and seemed to consume my air. My footsteps in the dank, murky space were muffled and slow. My chest heaved with the effort to breathe.
A sense of danger kept me moving forward, although I didn’t know where I was going. My skin prickled under a feeling that something lurked unseen in the opaque air of that cavern. I imagined I heard a harsh, guttural breath here, a warning cough there. Once I thought I saw the outline of some shadowy creature hovering near, quivering with dark intent. My skin prickled with unease. I tried to walk more quickly.
I was several steps into the dark, nighttime forest before I even realized I’d finally broken free of the cavern.
A fat moon hung high over the trees. Bats skittered and dived above my head. The trees swayed softly in a building breeze. A bank of stringy gray clouds moved toward the moon, threatening to plunge the softly lit woods into heavy dark.
I took a deep breath, reveling in the clean soft air and started forward again. I moved through the dense forest with one eye cast on the moon for direction. I still didn’t know where
I was going but I was much more comfortable going there.
The trees suddenly flowed away and I was standing in a small clearing. A beam of light from the moon shot directly into that clearing and illuminated a figure standing there.
The woman was tall and handsome. She stood still and straight, long arms hanging straight down at her sides. She wore shimmering silver robes, which were tied at the waist with a string of black pearls, a pentagram dangled at the end of the pearl belt.
Her hair was long and straight, of a red so deep and dark it looked black in that soft, nocturnal light. As I strained to see her face the clouds finally caught up with the moon and danced across it, leaving behind a patchwork of delicately fluttering light.
Her features were obscured but her voice I recognized all too well. Despite the fact that I hadn’t heard it in almost twenty years.
“Blessed be, Astra.”
In my dream state I didn’t jolt in surprise as I recognized her. My dream self acted as if it had been just last week, or even that morning since we’d last spoken. “Aunt Deirdre. How are you?”
The woman tilted her shadowed face and raised her hands, palms up, toward me. In the palm of each was a pentagram tattoo. The robe slipped away from delicate wrists, the flesh white and unblemished, except for a teardrop marking on her left wrist that reminded me suspiciously of the daemon hickey on my neck. As she began to speak she lowered her arms to her sides again.
“I am sorry to disturb your sleep, niece. My coming will be difficult for you as it has been for me. Unfortunately I am drawn by events that occur outside your sphere and felt compelled to warn you.”
The clouds finally moved on, allowing the fat, yellow moon to beam down into the clearing again. It touched the figure before me and flowed around her but somehow didn’t show me her face.
“What events, Aunt?”
“I have no time to tell all, niece. Know only this, your mother stands at the dark center of an evil vortex. Her intentions are not clear as yet but her actions have thrown suspicion against her. I am here to warn you away from her. She is working against your best interests and you must spurn her.”
I frowned and started to move toward my aunt. She didn’t appear to move but the distance between us never changed. “I haven’t spoken to my mother in three years. I don’t know what she’s doing or how it could possibly affect me.”
My aunt lowered her head in acquiescence, her long auburn hair falling across her shadowed face. “I know you believe that your world and your mother’s have run on parallel but disparate tracks all these years, niece but she reaches for you now. And you will suffer for her contact.”
I took another step just for fun and the distance between us stayed the same but her presence in that moon-touched clearing waned. “I don’t understand. How can my mother affect me? She hasn’t tried to reach me in all these years. I believed she was shamed by me.”
Aunt Deirdre lowered her head and I swore I heard a soft sigh escape the perfectly formed royal lips. “Your mother has held you close in mind if not in the physical plane, Astra. She knows you will one day become a queen in the royal court and that your powers continue to grow. She is ambitious and she knows if she watches and waits you will one day come into her sphere and she will work to gain influence over you.”
Since I figured I was dreaming and didn’t have to believe the parts I didn’t like I ignored the becoming queen part and the growing power part but the idea that my mother would try to influence me after all the years she’d basically ignored me was just too much. “Then I won’t come into her sphere. I can avoid her if necessary.”
Deirdre smiled. “It is never that simple is it, niece?”
I frowned again, at a loss for words. Unfortunately, my aunt didn’t suffer from the same problem. “You are also at the center of that vortex I mentioned, niece. Those who you are enmeshed with are at cross purposes with you. Trust no one except the Prophesied One.”
My eyes widened. “Prince Dialle?”
The form in front of me wavered and faded, the head lowered again and then rose to face me. Aunt Deirdre said nothing for a moment but I could almost feel her uncertainty. Finally she sighed again, “I did not say that name, niece. There are some who believe the great unifier has not come forward yet.”
I frowned, my heart speeding up as I realized my Dialle had been speaking truth when he’d expressed doubt about the unifier’s true identity. Despite recent evidence to the contrary, even my sexy royal scoundrel didn’t know if he was the Prophesied One. I felt my very short fuse hitting the nub end and it was all I could do to stop myself from stamping a foot in temper. “How is it possible, aunt, that no one knows who the Prophesied One is? Including the Prophesied One?”
The shadow form that looked like my Aunt Deirdre shrugged narrow shoulders and, once again those tattooed palms rose as if in supplication but I knew better. “Every century we have a contender and every century we have been denied. The great one has yet to emerge. Though I will grant you that recent events have certainly given weight to Prince Dialle’s claim.”
Against all reason I felt my temper rising at this. “Dialle has made no claim, aunt. Events have transpired to place the light on him. He seems to have the angels’ support and he has shown himself a knight for good as well as evil. His resumé speaks for itself.”
Again the form before me lowered its head. This time it stayed lowered for what felt like long moments. Finally the head lifted and, at last, I saw almond-shaped black eyes in a perfectly formed golden face. Wisps of glossy dark auburn hair curled softly around my aunt’s gently crafted features, framing a small, heart-shaped face. Her mouth, formed of softly pouting lips of a dewy rose color, opened slightly and I saw brilliant white teeth, the canines just the tiniest bit too long and sharp to be human. She said, “Not precisely, though I’ll admit he comes closer than most.”
I scowled at her and felt my hands forming into fists at my sides. I wasn’t sure how my blood had reached the boiling point but there was no doubt that I felt protective of Dialle, though I’d never have thought it possible.
“What dost thou mean, Aunt Deirdre? Speak clearly now, for thou hath truly angered me.”
When I get really pissed or excited I often resort to Tweenspeak, which has its origins in biblical history.
My aunt’s face softened and, amazingly, she smiled at me. “Thy devil rises, niece, bringing pleasure to my soul.” But she could see that her words didn’t lessen my anger so she went on quickly. “Calm thyself young Astra. You will know when you are meant to know.” She hesitated before going on in a soft, clear voice, “We will all know when the deed is done.”
“The deed?”
Aunt Deirdre nodded. “The Prophesied One will be known through his actions, when he moves outside himself to perform a selfless act that damns his own, angers his enemies and creates a united front for good between all the forces of the world—good, bad and between.”
I just stared at her for several long seconds. As I stood there, clouds moved across the fat moon in gentle wisps, bringing intermittent shadow across the clearing and then moving on quickly, creating the feeling that time and space were being spun and sped through a camera lens.
Finally I asked the question for which I dreaded the answer. “Aunt, why do you say he doesn’t quite fit the prophecy? What does he lack?”
This time she didn’t hesitate. “His angel, my sweet niece. He has no angel in his makeup. The prophecy says that the great unifier will shape the perfect ties between angel and devil blood to cause the world to stop on its axis and turn on itself, reversing the evil that had been done in his name and bringing the good forward to cleanse the earth’s soul. Your Dialle has shown a certain willingness to strengthen the forces of light when it has suited his purposes. But he has yet to do the same when his own are threatened by his very actions. That is the true test.”
My mouth fell open and I felt my knees trying to buckle in shock. “Hades, aunt. Are you tellin
g me the Prophesied One is a Tweener?”
The smile fell away from my aunt’s face, leaving it cold and expressionless. “The prophecy is unclear. It twists and turns and takes divergent paths built upon the expectations of its reader. I fear we will not know until we know, Astra.”
I suddenly felt dizzy and closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning. When I opened them again I was in my bed, my covers twisted and bunched around my legs and my nightgown damp with a clammy sweat. I felt disoriented and weak, a certain tenderness invading my heart. Everything I’d thought I’d learned about my current predicament and recent events was probably wrong. And everyone I thought I knew and could trust was probably not what I expected them to be.
It hit me suddenly that my “dream” hadn’t been a dream at all. It had been a visitation from my long-dead aunt. I sat bolt upright in my bed as the ramifications of all that she’d said hit me hard right between the metaphysical eyes. I shoved at damp, mangled covers until my legs were free and then yanked my equally damp nightgown off over my head, suddenly feeling as if I would combust if I didn’t get every bit of damp cloth away from my overheated body. I sat there, naked and panting, wishing I could write the whole thing off to a bad dream.
As usual I didn’t know what side I was on, who my friends were, or what I was fighting for. Frunk me to Hades on the Grim Reaper’s boat. My life was firmly entrenched on the lowest circle of Hell. I was suspended in a piss ocean on a float made of dung. I was a frankfurter on the bonfire of life. A glowbug splatter on the wrong side of a one-way mirror. A… Well you get where I’m going. I was in my usual place. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit out of luck!
I lay back down on the moist sheets, flinging my arms and legs out to maximize the cooling surface of my body. I lay there like that for what felt like hours, until goose bumps replaced the waves of heat from my skin and my eyes and heart finally slowed and my pulse calmed. Then I drifted back to sleep.
At first I was alone on the bed.
