“Call it a threat then, Tallulah Rose.”
The First Beast
A finger, as pale as the ivory rook on which it rests, toys with the chess piece. While the man across from Alexis hums in that annoying, thoughtful way that’s worse than any torture one can find in the tenth circle—the center—of Hell.
“Are you going to move your piece or not?” Alexis demands, knowing he’s lost more than the game when that mouth—a mirror to his own—quirks with a smile.
“Patience, my son,” his voice is like a cool spring. Water that seems innocent but is, in reality, deadly. As if reading his mind, vibrant green eyes lift to hold Alexis’s own gaze.
A warning flashes in Alexis’s direction as his father says, “When you thwart my plans, Alexis, we play the game of my choosing, for however long I desire, remember?”
Settling back into his stiff, leather seat, Alexis narrows his eyes, “How could I forget, Ambrose?’
“Do call me Father, Alexis. You know how it upsets your mother when you don’t.” Ambrose’s tone is light—jovial even—and misleading for a man who is anything but kind.
Even now, the mother Ambrose mentions—with an enamored sigh—is encased in glittering, bloody crystal behind Ambrose’s large chair. Her body the center focus of this vast study. Serving as a reminder to all who happen to enter this Hell that Ambrose isn’t the man to cross.
“Are you ever going to release, Lilith?” Alexis asks, when his father takes hours still to make his move.
Yet, what is time to beasts like them? An endless well of it means that hours are meaningless, as are days, years, and centuries.
“Are you ever going to stop ruining my plans?” Ambrose counters, moving his rook, at last, knocking over one of Alexis’s knights. A warning if he’s ever seen one. For now Alexis’s queen is open.
His eyes flicker to his mother’s image. Alive, yet dead, in a case of crystal. Her soul screaming for release, but Alexis gave an oath and he will be damned if he’s going to break it.
At least one Von Draven needs to be honorable.
“Honorable,” Ambrose taunts. “What honor is there for a demon, as the weak-minded mortals call us? Is it honorable to change the course of destiny for your own ego, Alexis?”
“If it means keeping my word to my mother, then yes.”
“Damn your mother,” Ambrose hisses. A betrayal that’s old, but one that clearly stings after all this time. Air against a paper cut; an irritant, but one Ambrose can live with even if the wound will never heal. “I should’ve had the Savage boy as a pet. That was the plan—to kill his mother, his father, and take him to train for their revenge. Break him slowly and watch him become the force of destruction that he was meant to be. These are the things that should have been, Alexis. All of these holy crusades you wage to save souls…” Ambrose tisks. “It’s unsightly. Gods are meant to create challenges. From challenges arise legends about heroes.”
“Heroes,” Alexis echoes with a cold tone. “Heroes to who, Father? To the repugnancy of Hell? Or perhaps to those bastards from Heaven—our mirrored brethren who believe themselves to be our antithesis?”
“Are you dissatisfied, Alexis? I can unravel you from existence, if that is your wish.” A threat that is spoken with the eerie calm of a senile old man commenting on the weather.
“You cannot undo me.”Alexis replies, despite his fear.
“Can’t I? I am all powerful, or have you forgotten?” Ambrose’s tone takes on a sharp hiss—egotistical rage in each word.
“I haven’t, but you know Mother wouldn’t like it if you undid me from existence. I’m the one thing Lilith would never forgive.” To punctuate his point, Alexis leans over the board; flicking the black marble king on his his father’s side. There’s a slight satisfaction as Alexis watches Ambrose’s king topple over. A clattering sound that echoes in the cavernous room around them.
Ambrose has zero emotions—a force no one can accurately read—yet Alexis can hear his mind whirling.
Always plotting.
Something Alexis reminds himself when his father looks up at him with a pleasant smile curving his mouth. “I’ve been thinking of bringing Ophelia back here…this house isn’t a home without a woman.” A sparkle of horrific joy glitters in Ambrose’s narrowed gaze, “Wouldn’t you agree, son?”
Alexis doesn’t flinch, but even still his father knows he’s got Alexis where he wants him. Ambrose’s grin grows wider, sharper, causing something in Alexis to stir with a festering hate.
“You will not interfere again, Alexis, or I will bring Ophelia here. Your mother doesn’t give a damn about that one.” Ambrose’s long, white fingers drum against the velvet arm of his crimson chair. “Your compliance is the last line of defense she has against me, Alexis…fail again and I will find my fun with her.”
“Is that all?” He asks, hoping he appears unaffected.
A ruse neither of them finds believable, but Ambrose doesn’t comment on Alexis’s bad acting.
“I wanted the Grace boy fathered by the Savage, but I will settle for a Lowell pet.” Ambrose begins resetting the pieces of the board. “The Lowell line trusts you,” he rolls one of Alexis’s pawns between his fingers.
“Time to test that trust, Alexis.”
Acknowledgments
To Marnie,
Who told me to finish the damn book. Thank you so much for all that you have done for me in the beginning of what, I hope, will be a long journey. You are an invaluable presence in my life and I am grateful to know you. I’ll also be shocked if you don’t take over the universe—truly, Marnie, you are an inspiration. Also, thanks for always being there in the middle of the night when I need some talking down off a ledge of anxiety or when I need a YES person for my crazy ideas. You are insanely helpful and wonderful.
Katie and Marisa,
Who have listened to all my bitching with the patience of saints. You are both wonderful friends who I am glad to grow with. May we all be successful in our exciting new adventures! You are both such impassioned and brilliant creators who have blessed me with your presence. Also, thank you for letting me blow up the text thread with tons of spam. That’s been more helpful than either of you know!
Jody and Evie,
Who followed me from one writing adventure and into the next. Thank you for being the friends who, though you live so far, I hold so dear. Your presence in my life is a shining source of happiness and inspiration!
To everyone else who believes in me,
Or at least those of you who don’t tell me to play in traffic for following my dreams. Thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you!
About the Author
Collette Carmon is an emerging author of supernatural and southern gothic themed romances. This is Collette’s first book in The Family Grace series. The first series in a larger world of stories surrounding the supernatural underbelly that hides in plain sight within the Deep South.
Also by Collette Carmon
In The Garden
The Grace of a Savage Page 18
