by S J Doran
She frowned when Cassius flinched, but her anger towards her Dominae, and ultimately, her sister’s betrayal would not be silenced. “Each of you served my sisters in some capacity before I was crowned Sarratum. They left me there for four hundred years. You left me there…”
She didn’t know whether to be amused or hurt by the looks of shock on each of their expressions. Except for that of her oracle, Domina Elmira, her silvery gaze filling with sorrow instead.
“Sarratum Callista chose to protect the realm, her sacred duty to Asurim coming first. It is something you yourself should strive towards,” Berith’s accusatory tone pulling her from her dark musings
It wasn’t surprising to hear him come to her sister’s defense. In his own way, Berith had cared for Callista. They had been bound to enter a union as soon Amara had succeeded in reclaiming the realm from demon rule, and the crown of Asurim had been placed upon Callista’s head. That day would never come.
“She chose wrong and paid the price for it.” Cassius’s tone was sharper than usual, the heavy influx of infernal energy betraying his rising anger. “Do your job Dominus, and keep the realm safe. I will keep your queen under my care and protection from now on.”
She gently nudged the cold tip of her nose against his jaw, guiding his attention back to her, needing to anchor his anger before further damage was done to the already strained peace between demons and warlocks. A dead Dominus was sure to only complicate matters even further.
“You’re being grumpy.”
The ornery demon simply shrugged at her statement, his arms closing around her more firmly as if to make a point.
“I’m just hungry.”
The oppressive energy eased at the contact, then dropped almost entirely when his lips began to move down the curve of her neck, causing her to shiver against him when the heat of his tongue teased the sensitive skin of her nape.
She couldn’t think whenever he did that. His wicked mouth, his warm embrace, all robbing her of thought. “Cass… there’s…”
With some effort she pulled back, needing clarity of mind. Reason returned when she reminded herself she was currently standing in the middle of the sacramental Hall, surrounded by her Dominae, clothed in little more than her underwear beneath her demon’s tattered cloak, while reeking of bone dust and bog water.
“You there...” choosing to ignore her Dominae for the moment she summoned for a group of acolytes. “Rise and come assist the Demon Prince. Have him made comfortable in the infirmary and inform En-Rasputin his services are required.”
Within moments Jez was relieved of his heavy charge and Levistus’s unconscious form was carefully carried away in the direction of the infirmary.
“Should I follow?” Jez’s tone expressed concern, yet his narrowed gaze remained fixed upon her Dominae, his fingers clenched around the hilt of the sword strapped to his side.
A visual reminder that nothing remained of the fragile trust she and Cassius had nurtured between their realms. The realization had her forcing back a sigh of defeat.
“No, Rasputin’s methods are… unorthodox. It’s best to leave him to his work but I’d kindly ask you to escort the King safely to my chambers.”
Those maddening kisses stopped. “You’re coming with me.”
She’d never taken orders well, but she found herself struggling against the desire to obey his whispered command. “I will join you as soon as I have finished business with our new guest. I suspect we may have need of her when your advisor wakes from his soaked slumber.”
He was scowling down at her, but didn’t protest. Exhaustion combined with his eagerness to rid himself of heavy armor and current company etched on his expression. “You’ll be okay?”
The question, while a simple one, was so rarely asked of her that took a moment to register his meaning. Her chest filled with warmth, her lips turned up in a smile. There was only one reason such a question was asked, because he’d cared — for her.
“I’ll be there soon, libbu shi.” My heart.
Her smile widened when he tried to reach for her, only to be blocked by his Herald, Jez’piel already pulling him along towards the safety and of her... their chambers. Soon.
“Food and bath now, apocalypse later.” Jez shook his head, winking at her before dragging Cass away.
After a few moments, the hall was empty save for herself and her Dominae. She was sure they all had questions and concerns she’d need to address, unfortunately for them, she wasn’t feeling inclined to do so at this time.
“I’m heading for the seraglio to select a sacrifice, I require the altar prepared for a soul transfer upon my return.”
Their heads inclined in unison, understanding she would not be humoring them this time. All save for one.
“Your sisters? You’ve brought them home.” Hope. That was the emotion she could sense moving through her Dominus. She felt sorrow to rob him of it. But in the end, he had Callista to thank for it.
“Why would I do such a thing? Dominus, it seems you are confusing my hesitation to kill you for mercy. Let me assure you that this is not the case. I simply chose to acknowledge the fact that each of you were bound in loyalty to my sister’s orders at the time. It is your loyalty which stays my hand and keeps those crowns upon your heads. But it was you who taught me that a true warlock will not forget a betrayal, nor forgive it. So why then expect it from me now?”
“If not your sisters, then whom, Sarratum sa?” Malachi’s voice broke the tense silence. His tone carrying no anger or censure, only curiosity. An emotion she respected.
“Queen Benzosia.”
As if summoned by her name, the spectral form of the once fierce Demon Queen appeared beside her, managing to appear imperial even when reduced to a shadow of her former self.
“You had a chance to bring back anyone from the underworld, and you chose a demon queen?” Ravanna’s shock caused her normally curt tone to pitch shrilly.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I did Domina. I am not expecting you to understand, only to obey.”
No longer trusting her patience she gestured tiredly to the altar above their heads, before turning her back to them and heading for the nearest staircase.
“I will return shortly with the vessel, have preparations made.”
With bared feet, she moved swiftly down the cool stone steps.
“You think it wise to keep them in power after this? They do not appear much pleased with your choices, granddaughter.”
She had to force back a shudder at the endearment.
“You think it wise to question my decisions before I’ve had the opportunity to return you into a body?”
“That is a fair point.” Despite her own less than warm response, the spectral form didn’t waver or disappear as it had when Cassius had been with her.
Benzosia clearly felt uncomfortable in the presence of her demon, and she understood. For when his eyes had still been dark as unlit coal, he’d been a mirror of his father’s image. As Asmodeus in a rage, when his eyes went black as the obsidian his realm was etched from, not the blue Cass insisted they were.
The former demon queen kept pace with her and they continued the long and winding descent into the sacrificial seraglio.
“My Dominae won’t betray me…”
She was surprised to hear herself whisper the words, unsure if she was trying to convince Benzosia of this, or herself.
“Unless you were to place a demon on your throne.”
Her expression must have betrayed her confusion, for Benzosia quickly continued.
“I’ve been dead, dear one, not deaf. The animosity your warlocks carry for the demonarchy is no secret. Not even in Kur.”
A few more moments passed in silence when again Benzosia spoke; “Have you given thought to bribery? I have often witnessed pride set aside for the sake of greed. Offer your Dominae something they cannot refuse in exchange for their acceptance of Cassius.”
“Right now all we can offer them is a prophesi
ed Apocalypse. For all my talents in the field of bribery, I am at a loss on how to spin certain death into a selling point.”
The queen’s smile widened even further, but even on ghostly pale lips, the gesture appeared to be sad.
“I know the burdens of a fate marked by that prophecy, granddaughter. And though you have little reason to trust me, know that I give you my vow of loyalty. I will do all in my power to see you free from it.”
“What about Glasya? Your daughter?”
“And your mother.” That sad smile turned haunted. “I am not sure how much of my little girl survived Asmodeus. She was a gentle soul, but not strong, like you. I want to help her, should there still be anything left of her to save.”
“Then prepare yourself for the worst, Er-Benzosia. Even then you will not be ready for what you discover. She is maddened.”
They came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, before heavily warded doors carved from gold.
“I know she is.”
At her touch the wards sparked to life, the doors opening slowly as the sound of cheerful music and bright laughter spilled out from inside. When they stepped inside the seraglio, it was Benzosia’s turn to look confused.
“This is not a prison...”
“Though the bars might be gilded, and the birds within it cared for and fed, it remains a cage. This is where we keep the chosen ones destined to die upon my altar.”
She’d expected Benzosia to be appalled by the revelation, instead, she appeared intrigued as she moved amongst the gathering of dancing and laughing creatures filling the Seraglio.
“They are subdued?”
The selection was varied, male and females, warlocks, witches, fae, vampires, shifters, demons, and even a few rare mortals were kept here to one day serve in satisfying the blood-thirst of the Gods.
“Yes, they are locked in a permanent state of euphoria. As long as they are here, I insist they be cared for. Dressed in the finest silks and jewels, bathed in healing waters and massaged with the rare oils, loved and doted upon by my acolytes until they are called upon to serve.”
“Why?”
Mara merely shrugged, “It is by their sacrifice this realm survives, why would I make them suffer longer than necessary?”
“You claimed yourself incapable of it before your Dominae, but I suspect this is a form of mercy as well. Your mercy.”
“No. If I were truly merciful, I’d be setting them free.”
A knock on the door had them both turning to find Agate standing at its opening, her attendant’s usual smile absent. A shudder ran through her.
“What has happened?”
“It’s the Sarrum. Forgive me Sarratum shi, it all happened so fast. He was fine one moment, next thing we knew he’d collapsed. We tried to get him to feed, offered warlocks and acolytes, but he’s refusing to have any but you.”
“And I’m the only one he cannot have.” Damn it all to Hells. She knew what had to be done, but the very thought of it filled her with nausea. Still, he needed to feed.
“Take one of the decanters from this room and have it ready in my chambers.” Turning in place, she pointed toward a comely witch, acolytes instantly retrieving the dancing female to present before their Sarratum.
With as much dignity as she could muster, Amara moved around the young woman, inspecting her. With pouty lips, full breasts and rounded hips she was seduction personified in the form of an uncorrupted virgin. She would feed him well.
“Have her prepared.”
Agate actually scowled at her when she gave the order. “He will refuse, Sarratum. And even if he were to accept, this cannot be asked of you.”
“He has little choice in this matter, Agate. And neither do I.”
“I don’t understand why this is such a task, can’t he just… eat?”
Both she and Agate turned in unison to face the phantom form of the former queen of the Hells. “Has no one told you what sustenance he requires?”
It took a moment, but then comprehension visibly dawned. “Blessed Hells, he’s a sin-eater.”
“Lust.” Her mouth flattened with the tasteless word. “I suggest you hurry and select your vessel, Er-Benzosia. I need to return to my husband before he expires from hunger.”
Three pairs of eyes fell to the decanter of honey whiskey held within Agate’s hands, the honeyed liquor laced with hallucinogens.
“You know this is a stupid idea, right?” Agate asked as all three watched the acolytes escort both the beautiful witch and a succubus demoness selected by Benzosia out of the dungeons.
“A stupid idea, probably. I seem to have a talent for those.”
She was already following the acolyte out the door when she heard Benzosia mutter to Agate. “Should we be feeling reassured by this talent of hers?”
Her attendant giving a defeated sigh before gesturing Benzosia to follow.
“No, in fact, we should be very worried at this point.”
Due
Sweat was making his linen shirt cling to his chest, all he could smell was dust and leather was chafing in the most unpleasant places. Hunger was riding him hard, making it impossible to string two thoughts together. He hated to leave her, even for the time it would take to clean off, but she was on edge and he got the feeling she didn’t want him around when she performed the necessary sacrifice to put Benzosia’s soul into a body.
He sauntered through the colorful halls, knew the layout of this temple without thought. Three separate moons lit up Asurim’s aubergine skies, filtering through stained glass to create a riot of colors against the obsidian flagstone lining the floors, with warm torchlight making the walls glow. Altogether creating a comforting feeling he’d never been able to emulate in his own fortress. He’d tried to recreate it in his apartment in the mortal realm, but the harsh sunlight only made a blinding contrast, not the soothing tones of this temple.
Her bedroom was a study in texture and patterns, much like his own. They both loved the feel of rich velvets and smooth silks, furs against naked skin…
He braced himself against the wall of her room as a wave of dizziness hit, luckily after he’d crossed the threshold into privacy. Couldn’t afford to look weak. He wouldn’t let any of them see how his hunger was affecting him. He’d have her or no one, and her people couldn’t know of this glaring vulnerability. Feeding was necessary and the Hells themselves weren’t enough to sustain him, no matter what he tried to convince himself of.
“Cass?” Jez lifted him to his feet, and he blinked away the wooziness that swamped his brain.
Jez tried leading him off, he shook him off and started picking at the fastenings of his chain-mail.
“Need to shower,” he mumbled, refusing to look at his herald who was choking him with his concern.
“I’ve had a bath ready for Sarratum-sa,” Agate spoke up from the sofa she’d been perched on.
He nodded, didn’t have the energy for much else.
“Any word on Levistus?” He finally looked up and met Jez’s stormy eyes.
“You’re drained,” Jez said, his mouth tightening mulishly. “Bathe then you have to feed.”
“Feed when I fucking feel like it.” He peeled off his thin linen shirt and let the chain mail that had weighed down his leather pants drop to the floor without care. His hands went to the fastening of his pants and Jez growled warningly.
“Bathroom.” Jez pointed, then turned to face Agate with a loaded look.
He looked around the room, trying to remember if he’d brought a change of clothes here, but his thoughts were sluggish, his focus nonexistent.
“I don’t think I’ve got clean clothes here.”
Agate wordlessly handed him a bundle of mustard yellow silk, biting her lip to hide her mirth. He narrowed his eyes, giving a passing thought to what she was up to, and shook out the fabric to reveal a dressing gown heavily embroidered with crimson and turquoise runes. She was watching, her eyes sparkling with… defiance? Was she daring him? She didn’t kn
ow him well then. He loved silk. And yellow was one of his favorite colors.
Jez followed him into the bathroom, uncaring as Cass stripped off the rest of his clothes. The bathroom was steamy, the tub already full of hot water, the odd flower floating around in it.
“You’re in need of a female.”
“Just any old lust would do at this point, take the edge off at least.” He gave a negligent wave towards the door. “You want to go get it on with Dravite’s sister while I’m in here, I’d be happy for the contribution.”
Jez’s eyes flashed. “Stop being flip about this. You’re starving yourself unnecessarily.”
“Unnecessarily?” With an ironic grin, he climbed into the tub, sinking down with a groan of satisfaction. “No one but her touches me. Not ever again.”
Jez swore under his breath, slapping the doorframe and with a subdued nod, and left Cass to his bath.
He didn’t relax for long, his worry for Levistus sinking in. He couldn’t afford to lose his advisor right now, hells, he didn’t want to lose a friend. He double-checked that the door was shut before dunking his hair under the water, washing it quickly, the bone dust skimming the top of the water, a fine layer of sediment settling to the bottom of the tub. No way he could soak his aching muscles in the hot water now.
He wrapped himself in yellow silk and walked back into the room as he was drying his hair, Jez and Agate’s conversation halting, she hung the pieces of his armor over the back of Mara’s dressing chair.
“Where’d they put Levistus?” he asked, tossing the towel back into the bathroom.
“Healing suite,” Agate said, her tone brusque as she moved past him to pick up his discarded towel.
“You coming to check on him?” he asked Jez. “Has anyone informed Azadiel?” Surely as Levistus’s Herald, Az would know something was up.
“I’ll go back for Azadiel.” Jez gave him a loaded look. “Find a way to feed Cass. Agate’s gone to pass on to Mara that you’re in need.”
His teeth ground. “She’s aware.”
He slammed the door behind him and went off searching for the healer.
