by Emma Slate
“Our ancestors who came before us learned how to channel the energy of the desert. Those of us born here are different.”
The woman stopped in front of another heavy iron door that she pushed open. “Your room.”
I stepped inside the chamber. Red fabric draped from the walls and ceiling. Instead of a bed, there was a plush pile of pillows on the ground in the corner.
“Bathroom is through there.” She pointed to another door. “Clothes will be brought to you while you bathe.”
She turned to leave.
“I—thank you.”
The woman paused, surveying me. “Meghan.”
“Meghan.” I nodded and gave her a tremulous smile that she didn’t return.
“My brother will want you to dine with him.”
I nodded. I didn’t care whom I ate with as long as I ate.
She closed the door and I was left alone.
Chapter 24
I didn’t take any time to explore my surroundings, as beautiful and decadent as they were. I immediately went to the bathroom, wanting—needing—to get clean. The water was already drawn and steaming in the huge wooden tub that was big enough for three people. Though it looked inviting, I hesitated to jump right in. I needed to take stock of my body—and more importantly the broken snow globe.
How was I supposed to find the final pearl if my magical transport was destroyed? And what happened to the other two pearls? Did the base spit them back out? Were they rolling around at the bottom of my bag? Had I lost them somewhere in the desert?
Heaviness settled over me as I slowly removed the bag from my shoulder. I looked down at the shirt I was wearing—it was smeared with purplish goop.
The scorpion’s blood.
I shivered when I thought of what my fate might’ve been if Meghan and her companion hadn’t found me when they did. Who was the man, anyway? He’d never given me his name, but he was more than just a soldier. But Meghan outranked him—that much was obvious.
Opening my satchel, I peered into it. I carefully removed the shattered snow globe, but I hadn’t needed to worry. The dome of broken crystal had mysteriously disappeared. Only the golden base remained. It gleamed in the bathroom light, eerie and shimmery.
I held it up to my eyes and ran a finger around it. There was no evidence of the pearls. I set it aside on the cabinet next to the sink and mirror.
Mirror.
It was time to look at myself.
When my eyes met glass, I gasped. My dark curls weren’t just matted, but had turned into dreadlocks due to the sand, grime, and scorpion blood.
My skin was no longer fair, but a rich bronze from the constant sunburn. It gave me a glimmering sheen and made my green eyes glitter. I couldn’t say I was upset by the change, and I had no idea if it would even last, or if the desert had left a permanent mark on me.
I quickly shucked my ruined clothes. Even the parts of my body that had been covered were golden. My lips were no longer chapped, and though I wasn’t conceited by any means, the last thing I wanted to look like was a leathery handbag. Immortal or not, I didn’t want to suddenly look old.
The water was slowly cooling, but there was no way I was getting into the lavender-scented bath with my hair looking the way it did. I opened the cabinet drawer and breathed a sigh of relief.
I reached for the pair of scissors. Before I even had time to question my sanity, I began hacking off my locks. They pooled in the sink. I grimaced as I watched the unevenness of the shearing. Hairstylist, I was not.
When there was no longer any hair kissing my shoulders, I finally set the scissors down. My neck looked longer and my eyes seemed bigger.
Since when had I become so vain? I wondered. I didn’t care for it.
I turned away from the mirror and took a step toward the tub, aching for the moment when I slid underneath and washed the grime from my skin.
But I heard a tinny sound, and I looked around the bathroom, wondering where it was coming from. My gaze landed on the base of the snow globe. I frowned in confusion. It was vibrating, attempting to come to me.
I picked it up and it fell silent. So I set it down. Sure enough, the dissonance started again. I carried it with me to the tub. When it was close to the water, the din became a screech. I dropped the base into the tub.
Water bubbled like witch’s brew. Round and round the bathwater churned, and then it shot up in a geyser. I expected to be doused by hot liquid, but the water swirled through the air to form a contained bubble.
I reached out to touch it, expecting it to burst, but it held its shape. My mouth gently fell open when I realized I was seeing a vision. It was a green and rocky island, covered in mist.
The apparition cleared far too soon, and the water bubble ruptured, splashing back into the tub. The golden base of the broken snow globe fell silent.
I stepped into the tub, glad that it was still hot. I reached for the golden base and pulled it out of the water. I was going to set it aside when it began to pulsate. No sounds came from it, but it was definitely moving. A black ring appeared in the center and grew, shifting into a golden bracelet.
I slid it onto my left wrist and the golden bangle shrank, resting comfortably against my skin. It wasn’t tight, but there was no way it was coming off. We were linked. And maybe, just maybe, I would find a way to the island, after all.
By the time I got out of the tub, I felt fresh, new, and so achingly exhausted I wondered how I was going to eat sitting up. But my stomach growled, and I knew I couldn’t go to bed hungry. I owed myself a good meal, and only after I had it, would I fall into a blissful sleep.
As I dried off with a clean, fluffy, white towel, I glanced at myself in the mirror. I blanched, having forgotten the shorn hair. Apparently super quick healing powers didn’t include hair regrowth.
My skin was still golden, but now it was soft to the touch. Before the lavender-scented bath, my face had been as rough as a pachyderm’s. I was still marveled by the changes in my appearance.
Back in the guest room, I found a silky blue dress hanging on the front of the armoire. I quickly toweled off my hair, and then I slipped into the garment. It reminded me of the costume I’d worn to the masquerade—the masquerade where I’d met Lucifer.
I swallowed down emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. I had left him. And for some inexplicable reason, I had a lot of guilt where he was concerned. Shame, anger, resentment, lust…it all melded together to form a potent cocktail.
He wasn’t dead. He might’ve been annoyed or enraged that he was chained by metal that had once held Prometheus, but that wasn’t my issue.
“Own your emotions,” I said to the empty room. Lucifer’s feelings were his own.
I battered my thoughts of him into submission. I’d examine them later, when I had the time. Maybe.
I slipped on a pair of matching blue silk slippers and then looked around for a scarf of some kind, wishing there was a way to hide my raggedy hair. But there was nothing.
Shrugging, I went back into the bathroom and ran a comb through my damp hair. It was curling in a riotous mess, but it couldn’t be helped. As I attempted to placate some of the more rebellious strands, the bangle on my wrist gleamed.
I’d forgotten it was there.
I marched out of the bathroom with the intention of flinging open the bedroom door and walking out to find Meghan so I could put something in my empty belly, but I stopped short when I saw the man who’d carried me into the submarine.
He’d found a bath of his own and lost his metal armor. He wore a clean white shirt and brown trousers. His eyes were kind when they landed on me.
“You look better,” he said with a wry grin.
I grinned back. “I don’t even look like myself.”
“The hair, right? It was longer. What did you do to it?”
“Cut it. Obviously. But that’s the least of the changes.” I bit my no-longer-chapped lip. “I don’t know how long I was in the desert. Long enough to turn my skin golde
n, apparently. I used to be pale. Like cream.”
His brow furrowed. “He’ll have a lot of questions for you.”
“Who? Meghan’s brother?”
He nodded and took a step forward. “I’m to bring you to him. For the meal.”
I arched an eyebrow. Why did that sound like I was the one that was going to be eaten? “He’s not a creature who feasts on human flesh is he?”
The man smiled slightly. “No. But then again, you’re not human, are you? A mere human would not have survived the desert.”
“You survive the desert. And yet you are human,” I pointed out.
He cocked his head to the side. “Human, yes. But our lineage derives from the Iron Soldiers. I’d tell you more, but that would deprive Aloysius of the pleasure of doing so.” He gestured to the door. “Shall I take you to him?”
My stomach moaned in answer.
He laughed and led the way.
“You know you haven’t introduced yourself to me, right?” I said as I stepped out of the bedroom.
“Forgive me.” He bowed slightly. “I am Dorian.” He shut the door and then gestured to the right. “This way.”
“Stella,” I said belatedly. I was definitely curious about these Iron Soldiers. How had they come to be here? How did they survive the desert? The submarine was like its own underground city. I’d seen the market, and if I listened closely, I could still hear the faint sounds of it. People making deals and exchanging food and fabric.
Was this a bartering society?
And who was this Aloysius and why was he the leader of them?
More importantly, was he someone I could trust to help me find the last pearl?
Chapter 25
Dorian led me down a long gleaming metal floor to another door. How many doors were in this place? I wondered. How many rooms? Though the ceiling was high and the submarine appeared vast, I couldn’t forget we were underground due to the shifting dunes.
It induced a level of panic that surprised me. I’d been stuck in Hell and yet I hadn’t felt trapped. This was different. I suddenly had the urge to see the sky.
Dorian stopped at a heavy iron door and knocked. A moment later, it opened. A tall, thin man appeared in the doorway.
“I’ve brought Stella to dine,” Dorian stated.
“I’ll let the king know.” The servant backed away from the door and shut it.
I looked at Dorian. “King?”
Dorian smiled. “Does that intimidate you?”
I’d been in the company of a fallen angel, gargoyles, and harpies? Intimidate wasn’t the right word.
Before I had a chance to come up with a diplomatic answer, the door opened again and the servant beckoned us forward.
“I’ll leave you here,” Dorian said with a slight bow.
“Thank you. For everything.” I looked into his eyes and briefly touched his arm. A fissure of sadness radiated through him and into me.
My eyes reflected his pain.
His gaze widened and his cheeks pinkened. “Oh.”
I nodded.
“I—the king. Don’t keep him waiting.” He pulled away from my touch, turned, and fled.
I had that effect on people.
The servant stared at me with calm, patient eyes. I stepped into the room and even though I wasn’t impressed by the fact that I was about to meet a king, I was impressed by his taste in decor.
A long wooden table was covered with a red-wine-colored tablecloth. Platters of food with decadent aromas wafted toward me.
My stomach, with a mind of its own, growled again.
There was the sound of rich laughter. My skin prickled with awareness. I turned slowly.
His face was true artistry, like a sculptor had painstakingly carved his cheekbones and jawline with thoughtful skill. His right cheek was scarred. Angry red blots of ruined skin dotted his face.
He smiled, half his mouth pulling against the imperfection. “Welcome, Stella.”
The king’s voice was warm and friendly. I took in his stature, the athletic build of his body—he wasn’t just a king in title, but also one who battled. How else would he have gotten the scars on his face?
I lowered my walls just enough to assess his emotions, but there was nothing except happiness. No stains on his soul. No blackness he was trying to conceal.
“The dress fits,” he said, ripping me from my thoughts.
I glanced down, suddenly having forgotten what I was wearing. “It does. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
The king strode forward and gestured to the table. “Shall we sit? I’m sure you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I admitted.
The servant who’d opened the door discreetly moved to one of the high-backed chairs and pulled it out. I took my seat and thanked him when he handed me my cloth napkin.
The king took his chair across the table, his brown eyes on me. He said nothing as the servant made up our plates. Once the wine was poured from a silver jug into two goblets, he quietly left, the door clicking shut.
I was alone with the king.
“Sorry this is so informal. I didn’t want to serve a four-course meal and have our conversation interrupted.” He reached for his goblet. I reached for mine.
“To your stay,” he said.
I raised my glass ever so slightly and then took a sip. The wine was heady and a tad spicy. I set the glass down, picked up my silverware, and then wasted no more time before devouring the food in front of me.
It took all of my willpower not to shovel it in with my hands, to gorge myself like a famished beast. When I was halfway done with my plate, I looked up to see the king hadn’t touched his food. He was watching me with unnatural stillness.
I forced the bite of food down my throat and then reached for my glass of wine. When I’d washed away the taste, I asked, “Is something the matter? You aren’t eating.”
“I’m more intrigued watching you enjoy yourself.”
The king’s words, once upon a time, might’ve made me blush. But I wasn’t a girl anymore. I’d been in Lucifer’s bed. I’d taken him into my body. He knew my wants, inside and out. Lucifer had made me a woman.
“What am I really doing here?” I asked, leaning back against the chair and holding my goblet with both hands.
“You tell me,” he said softly.
I took another sip of wine while I gathered my thoughts and reached out to assess his emotions. Curiosity and a touch of wariness. I was a stranger in his land.
His fingers brushed his burned flesh. “Scorpion poison. It was a baby scorpion and its stinger caught me in the face. It missed my eye. I was lucky.” The king’s gaze was shrewd. “Meghan said you were immobile when they found you.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I’m waiting for a question.”
“Why weren’t you dead?” he asked bluntly. “An adult scorpion’s poison kills its prey within minutes. But you were alive.”
“It kills humans within minutes,” I repeated. “I’m not human. But you know that already, don’t you?”
He cocked his head in affirmation. “I do. I wanted to hear it from you. I wanted to know if you’d try to hide what you are.”
I forced myself to remain still. “And what am I, do you think?”
He frowned. “That, I have no clue about. But I know you have immortal blood running through your veins.”
“King Aloysius, let’s put all our cards on the table, shall we?” I asked, leaning over to set down my goblet.
He smiled faintly. “By all means.”
“I am not your enemy. I don’t wish to encroach on you or your people. I don’t know if I trust you, but then again, I can see by the look in your eyes that you don’t trust me either. You have nothing to fear from me.” I swallowed. “I’ve never seen a place like this. A desert with shifting dunes and huge scorpions. I know I’m in a—a realm normal humans wouldn’t ever be able to even find. It’s only accessible by magic.”
It was his turn to lean forward. “And
is that how you came to be here? Magic?”
I thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes. Magic brought me here.” I paused. “I was taken.”
“Taken? Taken from where?” he demanded.
“From the mortal realm. I guess that’s what you could call it. I was living among humans, easing their burdens.” I inhaled slowly. “I’m an empath.”
“Fascinating,” he murmured. “Who took you, Stella?”
I met his eyes when I stated, “Lucifer.”
Chapter 26
King Aloysius’s gaze widened in surprise and then morphed into trepidation. “Is he…coming for you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “When he’s free.”
“Free?”
I sighed. “He’s currently being held by a set of magical chains. But I’m on borrowed time.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell him about the pearls and the magic snow globe that had brought me to this place. Then again, the less he knew, the better, so if and when Lucifer did come after me, hopefully Aloysius wouldn’t be at Lucifer’s mercy. But were any of us actually safe from Lucifer’s wrath? I didn’t want King Aloysius or his people to get caught up in any of this. But I did need Aloysius’s help.
“I felt like I was wandering the desert in an endless loop. Is there a way out?”
“There is a way out, but it’s hard to find if you’re not of my people. Only those born to the desert have the internal compass to navigate it. We have to be able to leave the desert to hunt. There’s a forest to the east and a sea to the west.”
My heartbeat quickened. “Sea?”
He nodded.
“Is there—do you know if there’s an island off the coast?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he said slowly. “We’re desert people. We haven’t explored the vastness of the sea. We fish in the shallow waters, but I know nothing of an island.”
Disappointment radiated through me.
“Why the question, Stella?”
I swallowed. “The final part of my journey. I have to get to an island covered in mist.”
