Decimate

by D. Fischer

  “Someone should speak to Erline,” I say, standing to stretch my wings. “They’ll go after her next if they can like they did with Erma. She’s the last of the fee on the opposing side.”

  “What about you?” Eliza asks me.

  I shake my head. “I’m too new to be a threat to them. I doubt they’ll go after a guardian ruler again. So, in theory, they could attack the Earth Realm to weaken Erline. We should be prepared for that.”

  “How would that weaken a fee?” Brenna asks around a mouthful of cookie.

  Jaemes open mouth attempts and fails to explain without a voice. Delighted my magic is holding strong, I answer, “Because each fee ties themselves to something else. It is meant to keep them humble.”

  “What are they tied to?” Kenna asks.

  Running his hands over his black sparkling head, Aiden recites, “Kheelan is tied to those he gives life after death, Sureen to her dome of dreams. Erline is tied to her creations, where Erma was tied to Erline.” He frowns and looks to me with his lava eyes.

  “Erma was not tied to her sister,” I correct, matching his frown. “Who told you that?”

  “Corbin,” he says, growling.

  I chuff and cross my arms. “He lied to you.”

  “Why would he do that?” Eliza asks, matching my posture.

  I angle my body to directly face Aiden. “Because he didn’t trust you. You frighten him because he knows you’re powerful. Think about it, Aiden,” I add when he looks at me skeptically. “The others are true facts. He fed you a false one to see where your allegiances lie. Tell me, when you went to his realm after leaving Eliza in our care, did he know you betrayed him?”

  Aiden sucks on his teeth. “Yes. Right away.”

  I nod again. “You sought the safety of the opposing team. He fed you a lie to find your weakness. He fed you a lie, anticipating deceit. Father or not, some part of him knew you wouldn’t be obedient.”

  Watching one of my feathers float through the room, Brenna mutters, “Sounds like he’s had all this planned for quite some time. That one lie was insurance.”

  “I was a pawn,” Aiden growls.

  “He had angels – moles – inside long before I suspected he did. You weren’t the only pawn.”

  “Corbin plans to kill them in the end, you know,” Aiden admits to me. “Kheelan and Sureen.”

  I chuckle darkly, my head hanging on my shoulders. “I’m not surprised.” Even in the Dream Realm, I knew he had alternative motives. I should have trusted my instincts then.

  Brushing crumbs from his shirt, Flint puts his hands on his hips. “What do we do now?”

  “We fall into their trap,” Aiden says. The way he says it sends silence over the room like the answer is completely simple and not dangerous in any way. He simply shrugs his broad shoulders. “If we don’t, they’ll change their tactic. It’s like boxing. You move in, allow the enemy to think they have the advantage, and then you duck last minute, delivering your own blow strong enough to knock them off their feet.”

  “Incredibly dangerous,” Kenna spits. “Impulsive. This isn’t a boxing match. You want us to fall into a trap? When we don’t even know what it is yet? This trap could make the vampire infestation seem like child’s play!”

  Aiden shrugs again. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

  “Some of us aren’t invincible,” Kenna spits, standing from her couch. Her pink cheeks redden further.

  “If you don’t like it, sit it out.”

  “I agree with Aiden,” I say slowly, disregarding Kenna’s trembling frame. It’s the best shot we have. Any angle I look at deems us dead. Perhaps if we fall for whatever they have coming our way next, we can attempt to get some control over the situation. Especially if we go in knowing it’s a trap. “They want to flush us out? Let’s let them. But our first priority is to keep this realm safe from as much damage as possible. In order to do that, they have to make their move soon. In the meantime, it might not be a bad idea to follow Kat’s example and try to get as many as we can to help us in the coming days. We can’t defeat their army alone.”

  “And we need to retrieve Sandy and preserve Erline’s life,” Flint says, voice tinged with mocking anger. “No big deal, right?”

  I hold up a finger. “But, not impossible. If I know anything about Corbin, he’ll have many traps waiting to be sprung. We just need to choose the right one to fall for.” On purpose, I fail to mention that I have plans to retrieve Sandy because just the thought of leaving him to rot rolls my stomach.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  AIDEN VANDER

  EARTH REALM

  Eliza watches as I pace the length of the grass outside. Gracefully, she leans against a tree trunk with her arms crossed, keeping her face carefully blank while I use my stomps to expel some of my frustration. We left shortly after the discussion ended and Jaemes was given back his voice. I couldn’t stay in there any longer. The emotions were smothering to the point where keeping myself from feeding from them was entirely too difficult. The information came as a blow to me, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my father having lied to me upon our first discussion didn’t sting. From the very beginning, he knew I’d challenge him. From the very beginning, he had planned my betrayal.

  “Aiden,” Eliza says when she’s had enough. “Aiden you have to come to terms with this.”

  “I can’t,” I growl.

  “You can. You can’t control the world, nor what happens in it, nor what’s done to you in spite, but you can control how you react to it.”

  I turn to her. The sun is setting and casting brilliant pink and orange rays into the forest, creating a beautiful backdrop that illuminates Eliza’s fiery features. I soften toward her, dousing my anxiety but having no effect on my anger. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Bristling, she tightens her arms. “I know more than you think.”

  “Oh?” I say, mocking.

  “You’re mad, but not for the reasons you think you are.”

  “Then enlighten me,” I growl, stepping closer to her. It’s not a threatening step but more of an automatic step, because I know if she touches me, I’ll forget all of my troubles. A part of me actively seeks that. A part of me can’t breathe without it. But there’s also a part of me that reminds myself I’m a killer. I know she’s still sore at me too, not because of the killing part but because I struggle to give her what she needs emotionally. I can’t change myself overnight, though, and I think she knows that too. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be out here with me, supporting me.

  “You’re mad, not because you’ve been played but because you can’t find a way to keep me safe in the tangled web of your father.”

  As though it were a blow to my chest, I immediately recoil, blinking rapidly. She takes the opportunity of my silence and presses on. Closing the small distance, she places her hand tentatively on my chest and runs her palm up to my collar bone in a soothing gesture.

  “You cannot control Fate’s plans,” she says in a hushed whisper. “You can only be in the here, in the now. You can only choose to make the choices you believe are best. You can choose to fight, or you can choose to cower. If you cower,” she says, looking up into my eyes, “then you’ll be defeated. If you choose to fight – for me, for the realms – then your fate will be your decision, and if you die, you’ll die knowing you faced your weaknesses. Hold me above water if you wish, but don’t drown yourself while doing so.”

  I lift a hand and twirl a red lock around my finger. “You’re my only weakness, Eliza.”

  Slowly and deeply, she sighs. “I know.”

  “Then what is it you want from me?”

  She fists my shirt. “I want you to fight for me, not to keep me safe but with the intention of a future – with the intention of knowing I’ll be there right beside you, fighting for it as well. You can’t protect me from this. You can’t protect me from our fates. You have to allow me the freedom to fight equally for it.”


  “Two is better than one?” I ask, chuckling.

  “I’m serious, Aiden,” she grumbles, thumping my abdomen.

  I bend, pressing my lips to hers. “I know you are. But it scares me. You scare me.”

  “I do?” she asks, her eyes twinkling as they catch the sunrise’s reflection.

  “You do. Not because of your power but because you have the power to destroy me.”

  “Hmm,” she murmurs. “Then I have two fights on my hands. For the realms and for your trust.”

  The blood drains from my face. Is that what this is? Do I not trust her with my affections? With my heart?

  “Everywhere you turn, someone betrays you. Have I ever done so?”

  I gulp hard against my emotions. “No.”

  A small smile plays at her lips as she lifts a hand to my bent head and trails her thumb over my bottom lip. “Then why do you expect me to now?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think you’ll cross me, Eliza. I fear you’ll die and take my heart with you.”

  “I see,” she mumbles, tapping my chin. “Then perhaps I shall stay alive to keep you alive.”

  “Do you think living is in your fate?” I ask, lowering my lips down to hers and murmuring the words against her mouth.

  Twisting her lips to the side, she mutters, “I don’t think Fate plans on us dying. I think he plans for us to rise.”

  I pull my head back, frowning. “What?”

  She shrugs as I snake my arms around her waist. “Look at Tember. You can’t tell me Fate hasn’t been playing a devious game against his own children.”

  “Explain,” I murmur.

  For the next few minutes, she tells me of her encounter with the Divine, and as she retells, my mind wonders back to the word, ‘mercy,’ which echoed in my head several times whenever I was on my own, left to my own thoughts. Fate and his constant meddling. Does he truly plan to restore power? To steal it from his children and give it to those more deserving? If that’s the case, then I fear the future is already lost. If he plans to give me power, his choices are unwise. I couldn’t be a ruler. My allegiances are with Eliza alone. I can’t rule anything if my heart belongs only to one. But perhaps that’s not something I need to worry about. After all, who in their right mind would give more power to the most powerful demon alive?

  “That doesn’t mean we’ll all survive this coming battle or war or complete decimation,” I say, drawing comforting small circles at the small of her back. The comfort is more for me than for her. “Tember’s was a calculated event. Fate would have been able to easily assess and plan based on evidence. We don’t know what’s going to happen next. There’s no battle directly in front of our eyes. Every single attack is coming from our backside now.

  She rests her head on my chest and sighs. “I know.”

  “Eliza,” I say, poking her in the spine, wide-eyed. Behind her, tucked just inside the forest, is dots of gold and black. Despite the shadows, they sparkle the most brilliant hues across the dirt and bark of the trees, churning and swirling as they hover in the air. Fate. The bastard. Was he listening to our conversation? Or is this just mere coincidence?

  I mentally chuff. There are no coincidences when it comes to the powerful.

  Tensing in my arms, she lifts her head and looks over her shoulder. “Fate,” she whispers, fully turning. I keep my hands firmly around her waist, protecting her from the divine though I know I don’t need to. The most calming sensation comes from him, a persuasive emotion that beckons my own to follow its lead.

  “Thrice-Born,” he greets, then says more sweetly, “Eliza.”

  “What-” Eliza begins, then looks around. “What are you doing here?”

  “The Demi-Lune Coven is in danger,” he says, taking shape into a human form.

  KATRIANE DUPONT

  EARTH REALM

  As the sun fully sets, I’m reminded of when I was held in the gallows in a time I didn’t belong. In a time Myla was alive only to die by the hand of the very people she protected. The serene landscape is just the same, but here, in the territory I once called home, it’s untouched by towering buildings and rising smoke that clogs the purest air. Here, I can almost see what that painter saw, the painter who was free, who didn’t care much past each stroke of his brush.

  Except . . . he did care. He cared there was a witch living among them and was there to watch Myla hang.

  While watching the coven’s young be taught by an elder at the edge of the Demi-Lune’s property, I ponder if this will be my own fate in the end. Will I die by the hands of those who don’t trust me because of the rules I broke to keep them alive? Will I be subjected to a gruesome death such as Myla’s because they can’t accept who I am and the burden I took on? I meant it when I told Astrid I no longer regret it though. Somewhere along the way, I’ve grown comfortable with my fate.

  Dyson sits in the rocking porch swing with me. The hinges shriek as he uses his long legs to push us into a gentle, soothing motion. At least, I know I can trust him.

  Witches trust in what they can prove. They believe in tradition and Wiccan law, and they take comfort from it. Their nature-based magic is stabilized by the safety of it. All they must do is call upon all of nature’s glory with a few whispered words or a dumping of herbs into a potion’s boiling hot cauldron. They can’t do that with me. They can’t fix me, nor push me away, and the only one who understands that is my mother, who hovers at the other end of the porch by the stairs.

  When Erline arrived and demanded they play their part, they barely bucked against it. If I would have known it’d be easier to bring the fee along to this meeting, I would have asked her to come from the beginning, but the fact that she showed up without being called tells me she was listening in anyway. I’m grateful for her intervention. It saved me a whole lot of heartache, going toe-to-toe with women I once called family.

  Instead of disappearing after a lengthy chastising, Erline busied herself by touching Wiccan trinkets and potions above the hearth until someone brought her a cup of tea. It was almost comical watching a witch, Clarisse, who is my age, bring her the mug on a platter. The two dishes had clanked together from the kitchen all the way to the fee due to the handler’s shaky hand. Even now, I can hear the remaining witches inside pepper her with questions.

  I turn my gaze back to the lawn. The scraggly, weed-flecked grass basks in the hues of the pale pink and sherbet creased clouds, and the birds devise a song to suit its beauty. They tweet from one branch to the next as they frolic with one another in complete harmony. Harmony. Peaceful. Relaxed. Do I even know what those words mean anymore?

  Clearing his throat, Dyson snaps me from my thoughts. “Is it true there’s never been a single male witch? Or would it be warlock?”

  “Witch or warlock… it depends on which fantasy tale you follow,” I mutter. I grip the armrest a little tighter, feeling the splinter puncture my palms. “Yes. As far as anyone knows, it’s never happened.”

  “Hmm,” he grunts. “I wonder why. And husbands?”

  “Out of the question,” I say, tucking my feet underneath me. My ankles dig into the grooves of the ancient swing, and I adjust, throwing the seat’s swing off balance. Stabilizing the sway, Dyson wraps his arm around my shoulders. I inhale his scent, and my eyelids flutter at the pleasure of the aroma. My cheeks heat at the memory of our mating when his scent had surrounded me so wholly I was drowning blissfully in it. I’ll never get tired of this scent of his.

  I touch the scar on my neck, skimming the healed rigid bumps. It still hasn’t hit me that I’m his mate, that I have someone who belongs to just me and only me. I look at him from under my lashes. His jaw is darkened by scruff and stubble he has yet to shave, and he reveals a fierce glee in his contemplation as he takes in every detail surrounding us.

  Catching my stare, he meets my eyes with a slow swivel of his head. A small smile brightens his cheeks, and my heart melts at such tender affection, turning my limbs to jelly. In this moment, as two blossoming
lovers look at one another, I can almost pretend this is our porch, our home, our breeze carrying a woodsy scent. Exhaling sluggishly, he leans in and brushes his lips against mine. I sigh softly against his plump flesh, and my breath tickles our skin. My mom clears her throat, and an awkwardness settles inside the porch’s open confines. What I would give for an extra private moment with him.

  Resting my forehead against his, I lick my bottom lip, wetting the dry skin. “I love you, Dyson.”

  “I know.”

  A childish squeal comes from behind us, through the window the swing sits in front of. I startle and look at the glass pane, but the intruder flees before I can catch who it is. My mother, who was leaning against the siding, pushes from her propped position. Her eyes are wide as she stares at something on the lawn. The mug she’s holding drops from her hands and shatters against the planks, spilling the tea and shattering the porcelain into shards.

  “Aiden?” Dyson calls, his deep voice airy.

  Curious, as I didn’t hear a car approach, not that I would with the magical barrier, I turn and follow him and my mother’s line of sight. My heart nearly skips from my chest. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t Aiden and Eliza, hand in hand, on the coven’s front lawn. Spotting us, they ignore the young witch stares and stride to the porch, stopping just before the railing.

  Hurriedly, I unfurl my legs and lift myself from the chair, instantly suspicious. They appeared from nowhere with no warning, and my voice comes out harsher than I mean for it to. “What are you guys doing here?”

  Aiden scans the forest line and the magical barrier.

  The wind whips Eliza’s hair in front of her eyes, and she pushes it back with an impatient swipe. “We were told to come here.”