by R. Scarlett
Last night was still fresh in her head and Evelyn was still being questioned. The members of Scorpios would have to vote soon on what they planned to do with her. As of right now, she wasn’t sure what they would decide. Even though she had saved Molly, Evelyn was still a traitor to Scorpios.
After hours of instructing Scorpios soldiers how to proceed with the Rose family now in custody, jailed in the basement of the Knights’ property, trapped in cells she didn’t even know existed, all Molly wanted to do was sleep and forget everything. Evelyn had poisoned Tensley’s father. She couldn’t wrap her head around it and it made her sick to her stomach. Sitting down with Daphne to tell her what had happened broke her even more. Daphne’s trembling mouth, her whimpers, her pleads.
Molly touched her chest, the pain heaviest there and breathed out softly.
Illya had spent the entire morning scolding her for not telling him what she was doing and how dangerous it had been.
She knew he was right, but she had to go. She had to try and help end this endless war with Ares to save Tensley’s people.
“God, I can’t stop eating,” Molly said with a mouth full of rice and veggies.
Illya laughed, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “Well, you are five months—almost six months pregnant. Plus, it’s a powerful thing you have growing in you, I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
Molly wiped at the corner of her mouth with her woolly sweater and grimaced. “This baby never stops wanting more.”
“Definitely Tensley’s son,” Illya added and sat back up, glaring at the white crib.
Molly smiled at her belly, very noticeably round, even in her baggy sweater. When she glanced up at Illya, he had stood up and was stroking his jaw in deep thought, analyzing the crib. He had restarted several times, wanting to make sure the crib was safe, and even after she protested the second time, she couldn’t help but grin.
And grinning usually made her cry nowadays.
Ugh, hormones.
“How goes the triangle of yours?”
Illya glared at her. “There’s no triangle.”
“Oh? You mean there’s absolutely nothing going on between Stella, you and September?” she asked with a knowing smile.
“We’re all friends.”
“Right,” she said dragging the word out before she blew out her cheeks and tried to focus back on her studying, but something else itched inside of her to tell Illya. She straightened and bit the end of her pencil, watching him glare at the crib once again.
“So I contacted Lance,” Molly announced, lowering her head back to her sketchy handwriting just as Illya turned to face her.
“Lance?” He cocked a brow. “As in the warlock, Lance?”
Molly nodded, twirling her pencil. “I want to see if he has more information about daemons or if he knows someone else who does.”
Illya frowned at that.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Molly frowned back at him and sighed. “I think it’s about time I learn more about what I am. What I can do.” She thought of the night before—what she had done to Senior and how she had made him leave. She wanted, needed to understand what that had been. How to manage it, how to wield it. “I’m seeing him today.”
“You’re supposed to be resting for the baby,” he argued. “You need to stop trying to do so much and think about your son.”
Her cheeks reddened, more so in anger. “I am, but I can’t sleep, Illya. I want to protect my son. I want to get rid of Ares and Senior said something last night that really bothered me,” she said, looking out at the city through one of the bedroom windows. “He said I still didn’t know what I am. And parts of that are true. I know a bit more than I did back then, but that’s all. I want to know what I am, all of it. I want to know what my son will be. I’m tired of being in the dark, I’m tired of not knowing my full potential.”
She sucked in deeply, thinking of her time with Tensley and how even though he didn’t have the answers to her daemon ancestry, she felt whole with him. She felt herself entirely with him.
Illya’s brown eyes softened and he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, his hand taking hers in his own. “If you really want to know, I can help you.”
Molly felt the burn behind her eyes and her vision blurred. “Illya, if anything…” She paused, collecting herself and squeezed his hand. “If anything ever happened to me, if I wasn’t able to take care of my son,” she whispered and nervously licked her lips. “I want you to take care of him. To watch after him.”
Illya shook his head. “Molly, I—what about September or your parents?”
“I’d obviously want them to help, but you know Tensley’s world, you know how to teach him about your society, how to raise him in a world of heartless beasts and raise him to be kind and happy,” Molly explained, smiling softly at Illya’s shocked expression. “I know Tensley and I know he would have wanted you, trusted you, to look after his son. Just like you look after me, I want you to look after my son.”
Illya’s brown eyes grew wet and red and he looked at the wall. With a deep, shaky breath he faced her and smiled. “I’d be honored, Molly. But you’re not going anywhere, I’ll take care of both of you. For however long you need me.”
Molly’s mouth trembled and she sniffled, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him.
He in return, hugged her, warm and gentle, but everything she needed.
MOLLY SAT STIFFLY in the odd record shop, a teacup with an oriental design in her hand as she watched Lance sifting through his cupboards. He was the warlock who had helped Tensley after the hunters had attacked them a few months ago.
So much had happened since that time, Molly couldn’t believe everything that had changed in only a couple of months. She, herself, felt like she had changed. And so had Tensley. They were all very different now.
“So, explain again?” Lance asked, sticking his head into one of the cupboards, his voice echoing.
Molly dug her nails into her knees. “Last night, I forced a man to walk away. I looked into his eyes and without even thinking, I told him to walk away. And he did. It felt—like an instinct. That it was a part of me. I can’t even explain how I did it, it just… happened. I needed to think quickly, to act quickly, and my body just… took over,” she said, gaze lost as she clenched her hands again.
Illya cleared his throat, shifting in the chair beside her and gave her a look.
“Ah, here it is,” Lance said and yanked out a hardcover book. He moved toward them and perched on the corner of his unstable kitchen table. “After we talked last about daemons, I kept thinking more about it. I searched all of my ancestor’s books and—I found this.”
He turned the book around and Molly leaned forward, squinting at the fine print.
Illya frowned. “I can’t read it.”
“Right? It took me weeks to translate,” Lance huffed dramatically as he pointed to the wrinkled pages. Molly stared at the art of men and women, their eyes wide and bright.
“They have my eyes,” Molly breathed out, more to herself than for the others.
“Indeed,” Lance began, nodding slowly. “Eyes are thought to be links to the soul. And you have rare eyes, Molly Knight. Very rare eyes. A daemon’s soul is pure, it’s powerful. That’s why they shine so bright. Just like a demon’s eyes turn black, black like the soul they are taught to cherish, to keep at all costs, from their very birth,” he continued, with a shy look in Illya’s direction. The demon stayed silent, unfazed. Then the warlock’s eyes went back to the old, strange book. “I had to read the whole thing a couple times, some parts are still unreadable due to years and years of existence. But back to the important matters, this book, this particular part, recites the story of a daemon facing an event. A powerful but terrible event, something that could ultimately break their bright, pure soul. It then goes on to explain that when the soul of a daemon is broken, crushed, damaged, the power flares. It comes to life. But it can only truly happen if the daemon
goes through a trauma, a moment where survival is critical. That,” he said, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Is when a daemon’s true powers are unraveled. What power the daemon could use before was nothing but a fraction of their capacity.”
“A trauma?” Molly pondered over his words, trying to think back over every moment, everything that had happened since she’d first noticed a new surge of power within her. Her heart skipped a beat, as realization hit. “Tensley… After Tensley had his heart ripped out, when I thought he was…” she stopped herself, not wanting to say the words aloud. “I felt the power then. That was the first time I felt it with such vibrancy, such strength.”
Lance nodded, stroking the dark scruff on his cheeks. “That would do it. That trauma fully awakened them.” He pointed to her. “Those powers are constantly stirring inside of you now. They’re a part of you. Like Medusa. If they look into your eyes, they’re trapped.”
Molly swallowed thickly. “But how was I able to force Fitz to do what I said?”
Lance paused, flipping through the pages. “Here. A daemon who’s soul is awakened can access, through their gaze, power over others. To kill a daemon’s soul completely they believed,” he began and a chill ran down Molly’s spine. “One must sever the head from the body and burn it.”
Illya’s hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed. “That’s enough.”
“No, Illya, it’s fine,” she told him. “I need to know everything.” Her hand went to her stomach.
“Your powers are a part of you, now more than ever. It’s like a sixth sense,” Lance said, shutting the book. “It’s not something that can be trained now. It’s something in you. Forever. It will manifest itself when need be, but will never act against your will. It understands your emotions, you intentions, your desires. So you don’t need to fear it being used on someone you love.”
She felt over her stomach again. A comforting habit. “And the baby? Do you know anything about a half daemon, half demon baby?”
Lance’s eyes dropped to her large belly and he stared at it for some time. “How far along are you?”
“The doctor said he’s around six months,” she told him, rubbing her stomach.
Lance hummed again. “I can sense it’s a he now. A few months ago, I could only sense that there was something, something that wasn’t you but somehow held a part of your essence, was growing inside of you. Now, I can tell it’s well and truly a he,” he said with a genuine smile.
Molly nodded with a soft smile. “You know, you were the first who made me think that I was maybe pregnant, it scared me to no end.” She laughed and he laughed with her. Illya stayed quiet, but a small smile toyed with the corners of his lips.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” Lance laughed some more. “But back to the baby. Considering it’s a he, there’s a good chance he won’t be graced with your powers,” he said, with a shrug.
“Most of the books I’ve read were theories from other warlocks and such, we have no real scientific information to speak of, unfortunately. However, most of those theories seemed to say most of the daemons that have supposedly existed and that we know of, through legends and myths, have been women. But very few stories depicted men. There were some that existed but not nearly enough to say men descending from a daemon bloodline truly had chances of wielding the powers.
“It still runs in their blood, but it isn’t accessible to most of them. I’m guessing the lack of actual research isn’t simply because daemons are rare, but also because the gene is unpredictable and doesn’t seem to answer to any sort of rule or law when it chooses to show itself. You are the first daemon to exist for the last three hundred years. Why is that? Why didn’t the gene show itself sooner, why did it choose you? We have no way to know,” he finished, shaking his head slightly.
“I can try my best to find out more about the baby, what it could possibly mean to be half demon and half daemon, but I might not come up with much,” he said, and Molly could see it frustrated Lance not to be able to say more, to learn more.
“Anything, anything at all is helpful, Lance,” Molly said, softly. “I just want to be able to take care of my son.”
Lance nodded softly.
“We should head back, Molly,” Illya told her and she jerked her head up.
Illya helped her stand and walked them over to the door.
Just as he opened the door for her, Molly paused and looked back at Lance. “Call me if you find anything more about the baby. Please.”
Lance smiled. “I will.”
“Oh, and also, one last thing. I met a warlock at the court, she seemed more or less disturbed but she did say something about the baby, as if she could feel it somehow,” Molly said, frowning as she remembered the warlock’s words. “She said the baby had a heart. Whatever that means. Hopefully that could maybe help. Thank you for everything, Lance.”
As Illya and her were getting into the taxi that would take them home, Molly looked back at Lance’s store, where she could still see him standing there with a deep frown etched between his brows.
On their way back to Manhattan, Molly couldn’t stop thinking of the moment Tensley’s heart was ripped out.
The trauma had triggered her powers to fully awaken.
Illya walked her up to the apartment and began getting food out of the brand new, high hand fridge, asking what she wanted for dinner. She was too lost in her thoughts, overthinking every detail.
The doorbell rang and Illya turned to get it. Molly fixed her sweater and walked out after him, listening to a male voice speak.
“I need to speak to her,” the voice demanded.
Molly peeked around the corner into the kitchen and she was greeted by the last person she expected to see tonight.
“Seto? What are you doing here?” Molly asked as she tiptoed closer.
Seto turned fully to face her, his features shadowed by the dark hallway, but she could barely read him.
“The mourning period for Fallen is over,” he announced, cool and direct.
Molly frowned and Illya folded his arms, refusing to step back to let him get any closer to Molly.
“Your husband is to be crowned king tonight,” he said, a glint of worry warring in his eyes. “And he requests your presence.”
TENSLEY’S CHEST ACHED, the pressure bruising his bones and muscles, sweat rolling down his nose and on top of his lip, brushing it off with the back of his hand. Anxiety riddled his body as he stood in the shaded hallway, the sound of the vicious court could be heard from beyond the golden doors of the throne room.
They were waiting for the beast to be crowned. To see their new king. He was waiting for his wife, hoping Seto managed to convince her to come.
If she didn’t come…
He swallowed thickly.
The beast in him growled lowly, and it rumbled through his chest, the sound leaving the barrier of his lips. The man and the beast were still warring against each other, and he knew when he laid eyes on Molly, he’d be wild with want.
But she soothed him—both beast and man. She calmed him, like no other, and he needed her by his side today.
The tinge of pain sparked in his growing heart and he gritted his teeth, tugging at the high collar of his dress shirt.
“My lord,” Lilith’s voice carried through the hallway and she stepped forward, her black gown tailored to her full figure. A crown of thorns sat upon her red locks. She smiled at him, the tips of her white teeth visible. “It is time. To be crowned fierce king of all demons.”
Tensley straightened, not letting her see his weakness, his pain, and stared past her.
“It’s tradition,” Lilith said softly and traced her silk-gloved hands along his forearm, placing her hand in the bend of his elbow. “It’s tradition for the queen to walk beside her king. I will stand beside you in front of the court and vow to honor you. As your queen.”
He glared at her red lips, too dark, too harsh against her skin and he jerked her hand off of him.
&n
bsp; “I will walk alone,” he said, lowly.
Lilith’s features transformed into an ugly scowl. “I am your queen.”
Tensley took a dangerous step closer, towering over her and let her feel the wave of aggressive pheromones suffocate her. “There is only one queen in my life and in my bed. And it’s not you. I grow tired of repeating it to you, Lilith. Next time I need to repeat it, I won’t be so gentle. And I may not use words to do so next time. This is your only warning.”
Lilith’s cheeks flushed in anger and she clenched her jaw so tightly he swore she’d bit it off. “So be it, my lord.”
“Tensley,” a voice called to him.
A voice that was like a deadly lullaby to his growing heart and brought a familiar sting.
He turned, his heart sinking deep within his iron chest as if to protect itself from the woman walking toward him.
A heavy black cloak hung over her shoulders but he saw the tease of her lilac gown of lace and silk, clean and simple, but all the more arousing to him.
Seto walked beside her, but slowed down as soon as he neared Tensley.
The prince approached from behind them, a cold glare directed at Tensley.
Fucking good.
The prince could feel the vortex of want and anger wrapping around Tensley’s bones and knew not to test his patience.
Molly’s mouth was the softest of pinks—so natural, so soft that he wanted to taste each lip separately and then ruin them all at once.
“You are not needed here, daemon,” Lilith snapped, the aggressive sound brining Tensley out of his trance and his entire body tensed.
Molly stopped mid-step, her eyes going round in surprise, but then her brows dropped low and she returned her attention to him.
“She will accompany me,” Tensley bit out, not bothering to face the snake behind him. “As queen.”
“She is no queen,” Lilith said, her tone raising, hands starting to shake with anger.
Tensley felt the reins on his anger break and he spun. “She is my queen, she is my wife. She is the one who will stand beside me in front of my court. Always.”
