The story was getting more lurid as it went on.
“She used her magic to freeze my mind. All I could do was watch in horror as she sliced Jill’s neck. Elizabeth screamed for my brother—at the top of her lungs—that it was I who was killing my sweet, innocent niece. I had nowhere to run.”
Right there, the demon had given away a little of his true nature and a hint that his intentions hadn’t been as noble as he told.
He had wanted to run.
“Trapped like a spider in your own web?” Phillip suggested.
The demon sputtered. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“You went up to the bedroom of a young, noble witch-child at a time when she would normally be sleeping. What were you doing there?” Phillip asked.
“I already told you, Elizabeth was forever getting between me and Jill. I only wanted to check on my youngest niece, and offer her a little cheer in her sickbed. She liked me to make blue smoke-bubbles. Jill was a little skeleton of wasted potential, Prince Phillip. I assure you I had no perversions for her body,” the demon said with enough outrage to almost ring authentic.
Phillip imagined child molesters were as practiced at denial as they were pretty tricks to seduce their victims. Blowing smoke-bubbles was a common amusement for fire-children.
“We don’t really care,” William coldly commented. “Get on with the slicing bit. Keep in mind that Jill is still breathing, and her magic is definitely not anemic, as my brother and I can confirm.”
“My brother burst into the room, but thankfully, he had the sense to realize not all was as it appeared. He’d been suspicions about Elizabeth for a while, knew something was wrong with her since birth. He’d begun proceedings to divorce Kaila and take Jill with him to keep his youngest daughter safe from their influences. We both tried for the bed to stop Jill’s hemorrhaging, but before either of us touched her, Kaila burst into the room.”
A woman scorned.
Phillip bet Kaila’s fury had been apocalyptical—especially with a demon and her weak, useless husband hovering over her dying youngest. It would have been damning even if the demon had been as innocent as his victim.
“Kaila flew to her daughters and threw us to the other side of the room. It was the only thing that saved me, slamming into a dresser so hard that I was knocked unconscious and presumed dead. When I woke, I saw my brother murdered—his blood-red eyes were still open to the horror of Elizabeth sucking the last of his soul into her while Kaila held him down. I used my air to escape out the window before Kaila brought down her own home. I couldn’t even find my brother’s body in the rubble when I went back.”
“Why?” Phillip asked.
“Pardon me?” the demon asked, sucking back a sob Phillip didn’t feel like hearing him fake.
“Why what?" ” William asked, sounding a bit dazed. It had been a lot to take in.
“Why patricide? It doesn’t make sense,” Phillip said.
“A demon-witch doesn’t make sense,” William rejoined.
“Now you know why I kept silent for so long. No one would believe me, even my poor family, who accepted me in return for my silence. I held my tongue as long as they were gone from Maeren, but now, knowing that bitch had her poisonous claws into Prince Daemon, I regret not warning the royal family earlier.”
“Your timing does leave much to be desired,” Willam commented. “However, given the recent events and our suspicions, your forthright testimony is appreciated.”
Phillip dropped his feet from the chair he had been lounging them on, with a thump. “You certainly gave us plenty to contemplate. Please tell William where you will be available if we have further questions. Nearby, of course?”
“I’ll serve in whatever capacity you wish, Prince Phillip—or do you prefer King Phillip?”
“Did you hear any death bans read?” Phillip asked, ice dripping from his freezing tone as he stood up.
“N-no, I misspoke,” the demon stammered.
“Such mistakes are understandable with all the excitement of the recent events—but lying and perjury? Such deliberate transgressions are punishable in Maeren by severe means,” Phillip said, staring down at the still seated demon.
He hadn’t stood with Phillip, another impropriety that even William seemed to note, on his feet himself with a measured frown levelled at the nervous demon.
It was one thing to mouth polite inanities like titles, but actions spoke louder.
“I would nev—”
“William will finish up the interview,” Phillip said, interrupting.
His ears buzzed with the possibilities as he opened the door and left, almost making him dizzy.
It was as ludicrous as William said to imagine a witch with lightning magic, but such an incredulous claim fit, like a tricky, middle piece that solved a puzzle.
Something you would never be able to place until you finished the frame.
Perhaps Elizabeth hadn’t stolen that lightning from Daemon that she’d shown Phillip when they last met.
He made his way down the castle purposefully, his long strides quickly taking him to the royal wing and the rooms his father had once occupied.
They were going to close this part of the castle. An investigation was ongoing. The court may not mourn, but Phillip grieved deeply the loss of a father and a king he hadn’t properly appreciated when alive.
Lightning. Mind control.
The power that the fire-demon had proposed was game changing.
Daemon had always said the right thing at the right time to settle disputes during the lords’ meetings, when he substituted for their father.
Despite the nobles’ hatred of his demon heritage, Daemon had turned many a meeting around with a stroke of ingenuity.
Charm wasn’t his oldest brother’s gift, but Phillip had thought Daemon politically astute.
It never occurred to him that Daemon might have an inside track to the minds of those argumentative lords.
The king’s suite still smelled of smoke and suffering.
Phillip paced the rooms again, thinking and wondering if he was still missing the most important part of the puzzle.
Something didn’t fit with the rest of the scene—it had niggled at him every night.
If the fire-demon had provided an unseen middle piece of the puzzle with his tale about Elizabeth, perhaps now Phillip would see what was wrong.
He needed a fresh perspective, someone like George or Victor to look over the scene. William had been rather useless.
Phillip’s blue eyes widened in surprise as he caught a glimpse of himself in a broken fragment of smoke darkened mirror.
The reflection was only in shades of black in the smoky half of the glass fragments: half a vampire and half a dark demon of nightmares.
He bared his fangs at his image.
There had been a side that his eldest brother had hidden from them.
Had Daemon been in all of their minds with his lightning magic?
Had their father been his puppet?
Did something happen to reveal or weaken Daemon’s control, resulting in the king’s death and Daemon’s disappearance?
Was his brother truly a demon in his heart?
Elizabeth Norwood had something to do with all of this. Her arrival wasn’t coincidence—it had never been blind, dumb luck.
Lightning witches were a myth, but Elizabeth looked more and more complicit of something that she was hiding.
Had she’d been trying to throw Phillip off course by mentioning mates?
It had consumed his mind since she’d dramatically left him after the most intense exchange of power and passion that he’d ever experienced.
One thing he was certain of was that she was no innocent.
The witch had to be brought to trial for crimes of past and present, regardless that she was as likely a victim of magic forced upon her, like Daemon.
They both been too young, too strong, and tragically fated.
The crown was heavy on
Phillip’s shoulders.
Its weight was crushing him in a slow, breathless death, much like the heavy shelf from his childhood should have done, so many years ago.
Where was Daemon when Phillip needed him most?
Dogged Loyalty
George
The Dogs were in the Wastes!
George forced himself to take a deep breath and release the rock he’d been about to pull out of the ground to smash their attackers.
Killing his own recruits wasn’t going to get Elizabeth back.
“You idiots attacked Prince Daemon! Do you have any idea how mad he’s going to be when he wakes up? Who threw that rock?” George hollered.
Nobody had hit Daemon. He’d gone down because of the sedative in the water.
Something Elizabeth had only figured out and warned them about too late, once Daemon had drank heavily. Her warning couldn’t stop the poison from working its purpose.
The first thing George wanted to do was taste the water from the canteen to determine the poison.
He’d either have to get to work straight-away to save Daemon or play off the loss of consciousness as a successful strike by the Dogs.
It all depended on if it was a harmless, short-acting sleeping draught or something more serious.
“We’re supposed to arrest Prince Daemon . . . Commander,” Cason called out.
“Well, you can’t arrest him from over there!” George shouted back. “Get over here. I need clean water. You better hope that Daemon wakes easily, or else, he’ll be in no mood to hear what foolishness has you carrying out ridiculous missions. Arrest Daemon? What gall!”
“Commander . . . Sir? Daemon was supposed to fight back!” Reid shouted.
“We would try to overcome his resistance, but we’re only earth-lads. Prince Daemon might leave us injured, with a valiant tale to tell at court about how we couldn’t defeat—”
George interrupted Reid’s twin, Sam. He was tired of shouting, so he decided a little lightning-telepathy would end their scheming and get them over here faster.
"Stop telling me how Daemon can beat you, so we can get away. You broke Daemon, so come over here and help me fix him. Reid, has your healing gotten any better?"
"What is this? How are you in my head?" Reid questioned in his mind.
George easily picked it up.
"Commander, what injury does Daemon suffer? Can you hear my thoughts as well as talk in my mind?" Cason asked, catching on faster.
"Oh, fuck!" Sam thought.
"I can hear and talk to all of you with telepathy. It’s lightning-based. Daemon shares this power,” George succinctly informed them.
George squatted over his brother, feeling the minds of the Dogs approaching them. It was a strange sensation, like his magic pinged off of them—a type of echo-location but with lightning-waves.
He wasn’t even trying to use his magic. It had to be something within the passive range of his new abilities.
The water canteen Daemon had drank deeply from before passing out was almost empty.
George stuck his tongue on the inner rim, licking at the moisture. Sand got in his mouth, from when the canteen had dropped from Daemon’s hands.
Sleeping aid, not deadly. It was fairly weak.
Something that witches and even children were occasionally given to help them when they had a bad cough at night.
He was surprised that Daemon had lost consciousness at all. It had to be the draught’s effects combined with the magic he’d expended, so shortly after transporting back to Maeren.
Daemon’s feed hadn’t been sufficient to restore him. Then the girl dragon had drugged him.
How embarrassing for Deamon to be so incapacitated, still.
The amount consumed and how quickly Daemon had swigged the water also mattered.
William would have a calculation to throw at the problem, something to determine magic levels of the drug in the body due to the rate of consumption and the time for it to naturally be excreted.
They didn’t have time for calculations.
George needed Daemon back to consciousness now, ready to chase their runaway witch.
Elizabeth was too trusting, falling for Pan’s schemes purposefully, so she could help all of them.
George had gotten a good glimpse at the forming plan in Elizabeth’s thoughts, but much too late. She’d already been picked up by Pan and flown away from his reach.
The Dogs had provided a very untimely interruption. They’d better be helpful now to make up for it.
Cason dropped to squat beside George first.
The twins stood a couple of feet away. Far enough that Cason could run interference and the twins could escape.
George wasn’t offended. Cason was always protecting his younger squad members, as if he was their older brother.
“It’s lullaby potion. Lots of it. No taste, but I can feel the concentration on my tongue,” George said, changing his mind about telling the Dogs the real reason Daemon was unconscious. “Sam, can you confirm?”
Sam approached and took the canteen from George. He stuck a pinkie in the opening and then licked his finger.
“Yes, definitely lullaby. Too much for a witch or witchling,” Sam confirmed.
“Was this an intended drugging?” Cason asked.
“Prince Daemon isn’t knocked out from a rock?” Reid asked.
“Of course not, Reid! We never got to attack him,” his brother said.
“He’ll be more inclined to believe that if you heal him,” George prompted.
Sam swore again in his head.
Reid dropped beside Cason. He reached out his hands for Daemon. He laid one palm across Daemon’s forehead, and the other he used to feel Daemon’s pulse at his wrist.
“He isn’t sleeping!” Reid exclaimed, falling back on his ass as he removed his hands from Daemon’s body as quickly as possible.
Daemon blinked.
George sighed. “You just laid there while our witch was stolen by a dragon?” George complained.
"She caught us by surprise, George. The drug momentarily stupefied me. She sent snatches of her plan. You know she wanted to be taken once she realized Pan’s purpose. It’s noble, but foolish. We’ll catch up."
“I’m weak,” Daemon admitted out loud. “It’s sunny, you know. I think the water was meant to drug us both, but I drank it all.”
“Idiot,” George muttered. “Take my wrist.”
Daemon turned on his side to face George, finally opening his eyes. “What about these young males? They were ready to toss around rocks like grown soldiers. Do none of them have fire or air? I’d rather not drain your strength, George.”
“I have green-fire,” Cason said.
“Well, will you offer me your wrist?” Daemon politely inquired. It was a mere formality between prince and soldier.
“Feed a little from the twins, too. They’ve red-fire as well.”
“Three earth-fire lords? Not that common a combination, George. No wonder they’re your Dogs,” Daemon commented.
“Yes, well, they’re still in training. Don’t drain any of them. Spread out your feed, so they can defend themselves if any more dragons show up!”
“That really was a dragon?” Reid asked.
“A young, female dragon. She was a couple of years younger than Sam,” George answered.
Daemon started his feed. Without a primed witch, it would be very unsatisfying.
Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and a demon in the hot sun of the desert was a poor beggar indeed.
“We’re going after the dragon?” Cason asked.
Cason kept a straight face as Daemon fed, stoic despite the likely foreign feel of fangs at his wrist.
All soldiers had to be prepared to feed their fellows, although few were called upon to do it.
Only powerful vampires or demons could feed off of a weaker male, their stronger magic ripping binding-proteins free that they needed. It was a bandage solution that wouldn’t last long.
Daemon needed Elizabeth if he was to spend much longer in the Wastes.
“Yes, we’re going after Pan, and the witch that Pan kidnapped,” George answered Cason. “Elizabeth was my prisoner, a special witch. We’re also duty bound to ensure Pan’s safety. A rare gift like finding out female dragons still exist cannot be forgotten. Pan was frightened of us and ran away without discussing what she really wanted from us first.”
"Elizabeth wanted to talk with Pan alone. She would have snuck away. At least now, we won’t be that far behind. I can track her thoughts. How about your bite? Still feel it well enough to trace her?" Daemon asked George.
"Yes, I can track her. It would have been easier if they weren’t flying so far above the ground."
“Should we head off immediately, or does Prince Daemon require rest?” Reid asked. “I can check him over for residual sedative.”
“Just Daemon, please, and no,” Daemon said, having lifted his mouth from Cason’s wrist, so he could answer instead of George. “Give me your wrist. I’ll sate myself as best I can, so we can proceed without further delay. Brace yourself.”
Wrists were exchanged wordlessly. Unlike Cason, Reid winced. It wasn’t as if Daemon would soften his bite for another male.
Sam eyed Daemon warily, although he still stepped up to be next to his twin while Daemon fed.
“We’re supposed to be arresting Daemon, not feeding him,” Sam muttered to Reid.
“We agreed to discuss it with the Commander first,” Cason said.
“Well, we found the Commander with the accused! Daemon’s been declared a traitor to the crown! King Phillip has assumed the crown, Sir,” Reid said.
Daemon’s eyebrows shot up. He stopped feeding from Reid, disengaging his fangs.
“A traitor? On what charge? And how has George managed to garner Phillip’s ire while following orders to capture Elizabeth?” Daemon sharply questioned.
“T-they say you killed King Nicholas . . . Pr—Daemon?” Sam stuttered, answering the first question.
"William did—as I told you. Not surprising that he placed the blame on me. It’s more shocking that Phillip believed William,” Daemon said to George.
Witch Darkness Follows (Maeren Series Book 3) Page 12
