by H. D. Gordon
He had betrayed Charlie first. Gods knew he hadn’t meant to, but he had.
Tristell dropped in front of him like an angel cast out of heaven, her feet landing squarely on the ground before him and her strong, muscled legs bending with ease to absorb the shock. She stood from her slight crouch, as tall as Michael, eye to eye with him. She grabbed his chin with her long fingers, her sharp nails digging into the soft skin on his face.
Her lips came close enough to kiss as she leaned forward, dark eyes boring into his. Her deceptively sweet voice came out in an intimate whisper, a rarity from her that never failed to set his blood afire.
“You are going to be a king, Michael,” she said. Her tongue flicked out across her full lips, drawing his eyes and stirring up heat deep in his stomach. “And when Michael is king, he will see that justice is finally served to all those who deserve it. He will finally avenge the lives of his parents, and he will be a champion of the common people. They will sing his name in the streets, write songs about him, build statues that will be bowed before for generations.”
He was becoming lost in her words, in the sweet way she spoke them, in her. His hands came up and gripped her hips hard, his fingers digging deeply into the soft flesh there, earning a small gasp from her. Her head tilted back, eyes rolling, and Michael tasted the smooth, sweet skin on her neck.
Her slanted eyes stared up through the trees and at the sky, a grin pulling up her mouth as she urged him onward, clutching at his back with one hand while burying her fingers deep into his hair with the other.
“And when Michael is king, we will merge our Territories and get back what was taken from us.”
Michael pulled back, his dark eyes wide with what he thought she was suggesting. “Tris,” he said, “you mean…?”
She nodded, devil on her shoulder and glint in her gaze. “That’s right,” she said. “Once we take the Sorcerer throne, we can settle things down and start our family.” She rubbed at her stomach, which was just beginning to bulge. “I am with Michael’s child.”
With those words, Michael Redmine felt a new surge of resolve, his black heart thudding loudly in his chest.
“You’re pregnant?” he asked, because part of him just couldn’t swallow the news down. He had to hear her say it again.
“Yes!” she said, and jumped up and down, her hands clapping in her characteristic way.
Michael wrapped her in his arms and spun her around in a circle. When he set her back down, she fixed him with a serious look.
“You see?” she said. “We must finish what we started. We must make our worlds better for our little one. Does Michael see that now?”
He nodded, devil on his shoulder and glint in his eyes. “I see,” he said. “Clear as crystal.”
Chapter 25
Charlie
As a simple common man, Charlie had never had much use for magic, but if he could, he would use all the magic of the Sorcerer kind and freeze time. He would live in this moment for an eternity, her in his arms, her body tucked closely against his, forever.
But they needed to get a move on, that clock hanging over their heads had begun to tick again now that they’d had each other and had satisfied the hunger they ignited in one another. For the time being, at least.
Her head was resting on his chest, her lavender hair spilling over him like silk. He’d taken her three times already, and thought if she shifted at all he would toss her onto her back and do it again.
Hell, if she even looked up at him again with those vibrant violet eyes, the two of them may never leave this cabin. The entirety of all the realms could be burning down outside these walls, and Charlie Redmine would not give one damn.
He ran his hands slowly up the soft skin of her arms, his fingers trailing lazy patterns.
She shivered under his touch, making that warmth spread through his stomach again, stirring a part of him that should be more than exhausted.
“I don’t want to leave this room,” she mumbled, lifting her head and trailing kisses up his chest.
Would he never get enough of this woman?
“You read my mind,” Charlie said, his voice low and rough. “And if you keep doing that, we won’t.”
She laughed, a sweet and throaty sound that only made him want her more.
Looking up at him through dark lashes, she said, “Tell me again why we have to?”
This made him smile, and he kissed her forehead before sighing and staring up at the ceiling. “Because a Dark Lord, a crazy Fae Queen and a dark Sorcerer—”
“Walked into a bar?” she interrupted.
Charlie laughed and shook his head. “I wish. That might do them some good. Instead, they want to take your throne and start a war.”
He paused, looking down at her beautiful face. Her chin was resting atop her hands, which were resting atop his chest. “But if you want to just say fuck it and stay here for the rest of forever, you won’t get an argument out of me.”
“Fuck it, then,” she said, a twinkle coming into her eyes.
“If only we could live with that.”
Surah let out a slow breath and pulled reluctantly out of his arms. He watched her naked form as she gathered her clothing, wondering at how every inch of her could be such perfection.
Surah was all muscle and curves, the smoothest of skin and the fairest of features. She moved like liquid, with a fluidity that made her seem as though she was always dancing. Such queenly demeanor—a certain confident set to her shoulders, a straightness to her back—mixed with the ability of the best of warriors, a skill she’d no doubt honed over the years.
The sheer amount of admiration he had for her was enough to stun him into silence as he lay in the bed they’d just shared and watched her move about the cabin.
Pulling her shirt over her head, she turned and saw him staring at her. A crooked smile pulled up one corner of her lips and her head tilted ever so slightly to the side.
“If you weren’t so attractive, Charlie Redmine,” she said, “the way you’re staring at me right now would be creepy.”
He chuckled, sitting up and grabbing his t-shirt from a nearby chair. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m so attractive, then.”
Surah folded herself into one of the chairs accompanying a small round table in the corner. Taking a deep breath, she set out the two stones, one black, and one white. They gleamed against the wood of the table in stark contrast.
Charlie came over and sat in the chair across from her, the mood in the small space abruptly serious.
“Is it dangerous?” he asked, unable to pull his eyes away from the Black Stone for a moment longer than he was comfortable with.
Surah lifted her own gaze away from the Black Stone, but its reflection gleamed in the violet of her eyes, making them look nearly onyx.
“You’re asking me if casting a dark spell and visiting the Underworld is dangerous?”
Charlie sat back in his seat, a sheepish grin on his face. “I guess it sounds pretty stupid when you put it like that. I’ll just… uh… keep quiet.”
Surah winked at him, making his heart skip a beat in his chest. “That’s just how I like my men.”
He chuckled and watched her as she took one last breath and sat up straight, resting her hands atop the table.
She closed her eyes, her pretty features smoothing out in concentration. Her hands lifted from the table, fingers hovering over the Black Stone, which began to glow against the wood where it rested.
The shift of atmosphere in the small cabin was immediate. It seemed to Charlie that the heavy feeling was all around, but somehow within as well, as if it were radiating out of his stomach. The small crease between Surah’s eyebrows was the only indication that she felt it just the same.
Time passed. How much, Charlie could not be sure. It felt like both seconds and hours, a certain thrilling agony that came with being so near to such dark magic.
It was harder to breathe, and the harsh rise and fall of Surah’s chest, the
thin sheen of sweat that broke out across her brow, matched his own. The temperature in the cabin seemed to have gone up about twenty degrees.
Charlie sat at the edge of his chair, his face slightly strained and his eyes locked on his queen. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand, and realized with something of a jolt just how powerful the woman he loved truly was.
Her eyes popped open, startling him. Instead of the deep shade of violet he’d come to love, they were all black, no whites to speak of, only ebony orbs. Surah’s lips moved quickly, speaking in the language ancient dark magic, her voice but a mumble and two tones deeper than normal.
Black magic filled the cabin. One could not see it, but as a Sorcerer, Charlie could practically hear it dripping down the walls, could smell it permeating the carpet, the air.
Just when Charlie thought he was going to lose what little food there was in his stomach, that he could take being so close to such magic no longer, Surah’s eyes cleared back to normal, the onyx leaking out of them like oily tears.
He felt the spell she’d cast to keep them safe settle over him like a warm, black blanket.
Surah took three short breaths before slipping the Black Stone around her neck and placing the smaller piece of her royal White Stone around Charlie’s. Then she reached across the table and clutched his hands in hers. Though the magic had clearly taxed her, the amount of determination on her face alone was enough to take his breath away.
Squeezing his hands in hers, she said, “Are you ready, Charlie?”
He nodded and told her yes, though he was sure that wasn’t entirely true. How can one ever be ready to visit the Underworld?
A look passed over Surah’s face that suggested she could see this thought written on his forehead, and her mouth pulled up at one corner in a sympathetic smile.
And then she portaled them both out of the small cabin near the seaside in the human world, and to the Underworld that lie below.
Ready or not, there was no turning back now.
Not for Charlie Redmine, and not for Surah Stormsong.
Perhaps there never had been.
Chapter 26
Surah
Surah’s battered heart beat like a drum in her chest.
The Black Stone rested there, hanging flush against her skin. It thrummed slightly, sending out vibrations that radiated all the way to the core of her. She had not told Charlie of the consequences of using such black magic. There would’ve been no point to that, because she had no choice in this.
Consequences or no, this had to be done.
As soon as they landed in the Underworld, a drop of sweat rolled down her spine, a jarring contrast to the chill that had just run up it. The temperature in this cursed world was much as one might expect it to be; hellishly hot.
They were in the Underworld, had landed right in the heart of it, and though Surah had heard tales of this place since childhood, nothing could have prepared her for what she was seeing now.
Charlie stood beside her in a silence as shocked as her own. All around them, fires blazed, offering the only light to speak of. The sky above was an endless, unadorned black, as if stars and moons refused to shine here.
Tall, dilapidated structures made up the landscape, fires burning in them as well, their surfaces black and crumbling, as if they’d been ablaze for eternity.
Gut-twisting screams of agony filled the dark sky, coming from every direction, from every burning building and flickering dark alley.
The screams and the crackling of the endless flames were the soundtrack, the only noise to be heard other than the rapid beating of Surah’s heart.
Surah felt someone take hold of her hand and remembered that Charlie was with her. Looking all around at the hell she’d brought them to, she wished that she hadn’t let him come. There was a good chance they would not leave this place alive.
As if this thought had summoned them, Demons began to slink out of the darkness, their glowing red eyes glittering with an insatiable hunger for death and chaos.
The winged ones took to the dark sky, screeching like diseased birds, the beat of their wings only serving to fuel the endless blazes surrounding them, sending the flames soaring higher, showering sparks into the air.
Surah reached into her cloak, removing a sword, its deadly blade tucked into its hilt with magic. Quickly, she cast the spell that released the blade, and handed the weapon to Charlie.
“Don’t let them bite or scratch you,” she said, her voice eerily calm, even to her own ears. “Demon venom is not fun.”
Charlie took the sword and nodded. She had to hand it to him, most people would be cowering in such a situation, and though she could see the fear in his eyes, he stood strong and steady at her side.
Reaching into her cloak once again, she slid her sais out of the straps on her back, a hunger for death and chaos filling her own eyes as she stared defiantly back at the approaching Demons.
She gripped her sais tightly, her knuckles going white, and called out, adding a little magic to her voice so that it echoed into the endless world around them.
“Dagon!” she called. “Come out and face me!”
The Demons moved in, and Surah burst forward first, skewering the one nearest her right through the chest, where its heart would be had it had one. The creature let out a screech that stung her ears, and its black blood sprayed out into the stifling air, the stench as rotten as its soul.
Behind her, Charlie spun around and beheaded another Demon approaching from behind. Its horned head rolled into some flaming trash near the gutters, sharp jaws still snapping at the open air.
More Demons came on their heels, their scaly bodies swarming around Charlie and Surah like enormous wasps, glowing red eyes dead but for that ceaseless hunger. Their agonized screeches filled the sky as Surah and Charlie sliced and skewered one after the other.
To an observer looking on—as several Dark Lords were no doubt doing—the battle could be said to be quite lovely in its passion.
Surah’s movements were much like a dancer, fluid and practiced to perfection. Her cloak fluttered and flowed around her as she used her magic to portal through the air; popping up here to slide her sais through the lizard-neck of a Demon, and then disappearing and popping back up somewhere else to stab another Demon through its red eyes.
Charlie’s movements were less beautiful, but equally deadly. His strong arms wielded the heavy silver sword with ease, arcing it through the air, trailing steaming black Demon blood in its wake.
It streaked across his handsome face, which was set in a way that spoke of how many battles he’d faced in his lifetime, of having had to fight for his life on many more occasions than this one.
But the truth was, they could not kill every Demon in the Underworld that belonged to Dagon. There were too many. The bodies of the creatures could pile as high as the burning buildings all around them and still more would come, for there was never a shortage of lost souls, never a drought of ill deeds.
Having gotten out some of her blood lust—which was stronger than Surah ever remembered it being, no doubt thanks to the Black Stone hanging around her neck—Surah slay one more Demon, crushing its throat beneath her boot with a sickening crunch.
Sheathing her sais, she gripped the Black Stone and cast a barrier spell around her and Charlie. Demons began to slam into it again and again, scratching and snapping at its invisible surface with their clawed hands and sharp teeth. They fell away dazed and all the more angry, screeching into the air.
“Dagon!” Surah called out again. “Come face me, you coward!”
Charlie stood beside her, panting. He pushed his hair back, which was slick with sweat. The muscles in his arms bulged as he caught his breath, ever ready for battle.
The Demons began to slink away, the winged ones taking flight and hovering in circles above like vultures. As they disappeared into the shadows, which were undoubtedly the true rulers of this forsaken place, she knew that her last words had not
gone unheard.
Holding the barrier spell in place was not an easy task, and she could not do it and fight at the same time. The spell took concentration, but it would offer them protection against any magic the Dark Lord might try to use against them.
Once the army of Demons had scattered, Surah spotted him leaning against one of the buildings to her east. She spun on her heel to face him. She had only ever seen pictures in story books from hundreds of years ago, but he had not aged a day. Dark Lords and Lords of Light were immortal, the most feared of all the supernatural races, Gods in their own rights.
Dagon was not in his Demon form, but rather that of a mere mortal. He wore a tailored black suit, black shiny shoes that gleamed in the flickering firelight. His demeanor was relaxed, his ankles crossed and his hands resting loosely in his pockets. If not for his soulless eyes, he could pass for human.
His handsome façade did not fool Surah, just as she was sure her delicate one did not fool him. Still leaning against the dilapidated building, Dagon looked up and met her eyes.
“Big words for such a little Sorceress,” the Dark Lord said, taking neither note nor notice of Charlie. He watched Surah the way a cat watches a mouse.
Surah lifted her chin, refusing to show intimidation. “Dagon, I presume.”
His dark eyes flashed and narrowed. “You presume nothing, child. You know who I am.”
Surah’s fist clenched tighter around the stone, her violet gaze ablaze with anger. “I also know you’ve been sending your Demons to attack my Territory, and I’m here to tell you to stop.”
Dagon laughed hard at this in a way that could not be taken as anything but insulting. It was an ugly, grating sound that revealed the darkness hidden beneath the pleasing mask.
He pushed off from the wall of the building and strode over to her, his eyes flicking uninterestedly to Charlie and back again.
Surah had never found any gaze in a thousand years of life as hard to hold as the Dark Lord she was facing, and she had faced a Sun Warrior in her time.
