Xavier rushed into the study, breaking the weird stasis that had enveloped Ewan and me. Jax, Gus and the other house demons hovered at the entrance. I slid past Ewan and crossed the room to Jax and Gus. “I have to talk to Ewan and Xavier alone. I’m sorry. Malthus is dead.” I watched confusion transform Jax’s face. “We’ll talk later. Please.”
He bobbed his head in a shocked reflex. Gus drew back into the shadows of the hallway, his eyes intent on mine. He knew. About the transfer of death essence and Ewan’s pact. Somehow, he knew everything.
I closed the door and stared at the doorknob, letting it blur in my vision for a moment. Oddly, Malthus’s essence coursed through me, and instead of disgust or fear, I felt comfort, strength. I silently thanked him, refocused, and turned around to face Ewan and Xavier. Xavier was staring at Malthus’s body, and if I hadn’t been studying him so closely, I wouldn’t have noticed his shoulders sag for one brief second, in sorrow or regret. I’d probably never know.
What I did know was the exact moment full realization hit Xavier and Ewan. I imagined the sensation gripping them resembled the moment I first noticed the revenant bond with Adam—the tightening in my chest, the constant pressure. It had taken me a few moments to realize it was the bond. Like them, now. Xavier smiled and Ewan—oh, God. I had to play this off.
Xavier gave me a long, hard stare, and I cemented my own implacable expression. I knew he was weighing everything very carefully, possibly trying to decide if he had to kill me. And I suddenly understood the real reason Malthus had transferred Ewan’s debt pact to Xavier. To convince him I’d converted to his religion of revenge. Very well, then. Let the baptism begin.
“Ewan, Malthus transferred your debt pact to Xavier,” I said, forcing steely resolve into my tone.
“Why?” Ewan asked, horror and anger tightening his voice.
Here goes the neighborhood. “Because I asked him to.” The final word strangled my throat. I tipped my head to see the look of satisfaction cross Xavier’s face, then braved a glance at Ewan. His expression was stone hard, his skin shimmered, and his eyes exploded with sparks of a deep gold I’d never seen.
“Why did you do that?” He spoke so low, but the anger behind his words was clear—a fury barely suppressed. He stared at his hands, touched his chest as if he’d undergone some physical transformation. But maybe it was a way of translating the internal turmoil, a way for his mind to process what had just happened.
“Answer me!” he raged, his patience exhausted. “You owe me at least a fucking answer.”
I tried to summon more of Malthus’s essence, hoping it could give me that same detached arrogance, that sense of “I’m right, and you need to listen.” Apparently, it didn’t work that way. Before I could muster my best Malthus imitation, Ewan reached out and took my chin in his hand. “You look contrite.” He jerked his hand away. “Fuck!”
What words could I utter that wouldn’t kill us both? Ugh. I wanted to throw up. I just wanted that blessed darkness of the portal when Kara and I passed through. I wanted it to cloak me in oblivion.
He glared at Xavier. “I would rather have returned to my realm and hanged.”
I couldn’t look at him, at his hurt and anger. He swiveled his gaze back to me. “Please, tell me, give me something to hold onto. Tell me this is part of some elaborate plan.”
If I spoke now, after feeling his touch, I most likely would have broken down and spilled everything. I hid my face behind my hand, with my fingers pressed on my forehead. He came at me again, wrenching my hand back, exposing me to the brilliance of his despair.
“Okay, Ruby, two can play at this game. I guess since my debt no longer prevents me from seducing you, I may find myself resorting to more potent methods in order to understand what the fuck is going on here.” A shudder of anticipation raced up my spine. I didn’t know whether to view his sexual threat as something positive or negative.
“Ewan,” Xavier said, his voice a dark warning. Ewan turned his head, but his movements were coming out jerky, contorted, his body a marionette to the inner rage now pulling his strings.
“Leave us,” Xavier said.
Ewan dropped my hand, and I summoned all my strength to meet the recrimination blazing from his eyes. I owed him that at least.
He shot Xavier a look of pure violence, and though he was the one imprisoned by the debt pact, beholden to Xavier, he exited the room with enough menace in his gait that even Xavier took a step back when he passed.
Once Ewan had gone, Xavier approached me. “Malthus transferred his essence to you?”
I nodded, my gaze still on the closed door. I turned to Xavier. “I hate them. My family is gone because of them. Ivo wants me dead. I don’t think those demons should be running things anymore.” Simple and to the point. I didn’t need an elaborate speech. My actions, my betrayal of Ewan spoke volumes.
Xavier smiled and nodded in the way people do when not entirely convinced, but he seemed satisfied, for now.
None of what I said deviated far from the truth anyway. The current demon administration had to go, but they didn’t have elections or an impeachment process. It would require a more forceful and direct approach. Certainly not what Xavier had in mind, though. His visions of glory were very, very bloody. He either thought I was ridiculously naïve or that I’d become as crazy as he was. Given the current thinking on necromancers, I was sure I could play off the latter.
And Malthus had a good point. I could use Xavier as much, if not more, than he planned to use me, to stop hell from seeping into our world and discover exactly what all this death essence meant for me.
Now the question was, could I accomplish good with a power that was inherently evil? That was everyone’s concern anyway. I’d have to prove them wrong, prove Xavier wrong. But would the struggle destroy my humanity in the end?
Xavier placed a hand on my shoulder, and I forced myself not to flinch.
“Are you ready to take on the worlds?”
The End
(Please continue reading for more information about the author)
About the Author
Mimi Sebastian raised herself on books and the strange and unusual, and an unhealthy dose of comics and movies. When a career as a punk guitarist failed to materialize, she completed her degree in urban planning, spent two years in the Ivory Coast with the Peace Corps, and another three years in Brazil. By day, she debates the merits of transport oriented development, by night she writes about necromancers and pirates. She’s convinced she could live off coffee, ice cream, and comic books, but is sure only one of those is good for her health.
She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter of RWA. A transplant from the beaches of Florida, Mimi now wanders the desert in Phoenix, AZ, and attempts to balance writing with a day career, fantastic family, and household diva: her Amazon parrot.
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