Eternity of Darkness (Divisa Huntress Book 3) Page 19

  Because it’s necessary. We need to stay a step ahead of her.

  “I won’t argue with that. She no longer trusts us.”

  I rolled my eyes, conveying that it was obvious the queen wouldn’t trust them.

  “What do you think you can do?” he asked in a way that suggested I was just a girl with no real chance against a demon queen.

  And maybe I didn’t stand a chance. Maybe I was digging my own grave, but if there was even the slimmest possibility of giving us an edge, I had to take it.

  No risk, no gain.

  I pressed the pen hard into the paper. I don’t know yet.

  “You realize what you’re asking of me is a—” He made a slashing motion across his neck. I got the message. If anything happened to me because of Apollo helping me against Ashor’s orders, my mate would kill him. Friend or not. His rage would be all-consuming, as would his grief.

  I’m sorry. I mouthed, “Does it matter though if we don’t win? We’ll all be dead.”

  The demon shook his head, but I could see he was actually considering helping me, or at the very least turning a blind eye. “You must have a death wish,” he muttered.

  I stared him in the eyes. “I came here to save Ashor, and that’s what I intend to do.”

  Apollo might have learned to tolerate me, but he cared about Ashor, and I played on those feelings. Straightening, he let his hands fall slack at his sides. “I can’t believe I’m putting my faith in a girl. A human, at that.”

  “Half,” I corrected. “If we survive this, I’ll make sure the blame falls on me.”

  “You think you have that much influence over him?”

  My lips turned up, but the smile was hard to maintain. “I’m his mate.”

  He shook his head. “A good thing, or he’d kill us both.”

  * * *

  And when the moment came, Apollo kept his word. He let the queen take me. For all the good it did, seeing as I was tied up in some shack with Soren.

  Still, I had to wonder, of all the moments in my past I could have dreamt of, why this one? Why now? What was the purpose of reliving this moment? Did it have some kind of significance?

  Through the murky waters of my brain and the darkness keeping me asleep, I sought to find an answer. Not an easy task. But the more I thought about it, the more I believed the dream had been pulled from me. Someone was inside my head, extracting memories or searching for information on where I might.

  And I had a hunch who.

  Sneaky devil, my mate was.

  Would he find me?

  I woke up with the metallic taste of dried blood on my tongue, my head throbbing like I’d spent the night indulging in booze and now the hangover gods were punishing me. Soren’s powers had nasty aftereffects.

  Water. I meant to voice the request, but I couldn’t quite get the single word to form. I tried to swallow away the taste.

  My blood, I remembered.

  The asshole had made me bleed.

  A lot, it seemed, as my eyes roamed down over my body and the bed. Dark stains soaked into the sheets, and my clothes were tattered, cuts sliced through the material. I didn’t know why he bothered to keep them on me. They weren’t doing much, but I should have been grateful that I didn't wake up buck-ass naked.

  I had no idea how long I’d been under this time. It could have been days or weeks for all I knew. Terrifying.

  Despite losing blood, I didn’t seem to be suffering any injuries, but that didn’t give me much comfort, seeing as even if Soren had decided to play doctor with me while I slept, my demon blood would have healed the injuries, unless he nicked something vital.

  My guess, Soren knew precisely what veins and arteries to avoid. He liked to prolong the torture, and someone like me who healed made the perfect victim.

  I groaned, my wrists and ankles sore and prickling from being in the same positions for so long. And I could tell that my body was weaker from lack of nourishment.

  Did he plan to starve me as part of my torment?

  In answer, my stomach growled, one long rumbling protest. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to draw on strength I didn’t have.

  When they opened again, I noticed a mark on my arm. Was that a scar that hadn’t been there before?

  Bastard.

  Maybe it was better I had been unconscious while he played with me like a doll he could abuse. Or was it worse not knowing what he did to me?

  A hand brushed at the side of my face as a shadow fell over me. “Good morning, little demon. Awake so soon? Did you sleep well?”

  As he taunted me, I once again tested my restraints, wiggling my hands and feet against the metal while Soren’s attention remained focused on my face—my reaction. He loved to see the various degrees of fear, panic, anger, and despair he created.

  “You tell me,” I hissed. The metal cut into my skin, not giving an inch.

  Dark eyes scanned my face. “Let’s just say you made the wait worth my while.” He ran a hand down the column of my throat.

  “Spare me the details.”

  His fingers dug into my neck, the pressure earning a gasp from me. “I hope he felt every cut inflicted on your flawless body,” he purred.

  No longer flawless, thanks to him. At one time, the scars would have irked me. I strived for perfection, but I didn’t give a shit now. Not about anything other than staying alive and stopping his batshit mother from destroying… everything.

  But his statement did pose an unsettling question. Could Ashor feel my pain when I was in a state of stasis?

  His lips curled back. “Did you know that you cry out his name even in your sleep? Over and over and over you called for him, begged him to save you, to make the pain stop. It was revolting. I almost couldn’t continue.”

  His grip loosened on my neck, and I inhaled greedily. A spark of magic flickered in my veins, eager to lash out. I just had to give the okay. “If you expect me to apologize for ruining your sick pleasure, go fuck yourself.” Had Ashor heard me? I really hoped not. He didn’t need to be tortured by my absence, my betrayal, and more than he already was. In a way, I had betrayed him, but he would forgive me. The thing with having a mate was we couldn’t live without each other.

  I might have derailed slightly from my plan, but I would do anything to free Ashor from the chains the underworld had put around him.

  How long would I spend bouncing between barely lucid wakefulness and darkness where sometimes I dreamed? I didn’t trust the dreams, even if they felt real or like a memory. My head was too messed up, too scrambled, too uncertain, too bogged with thoughts, regrets, and guilt.

  Without my mental shield, I remained vulnerable to a variety of attacks. Who was to say I wasn’t being manipulated all the time?

  The mind was a complex organ. With powers like the queen’s, Soren’s, and Ashor’s, all kinds of fucked-up shit could be implanted into my head. I couldn’t trust myself, and yet it didn’t stop the dreams from happening.

  Or me from desperately wanting them to never end. For once, my dreams—or nightmares, depending on how you viewed them—were better than my actual life, and I began to look forward to the consuming darkness instead of dreading it. Especially when they were of my mate.

  * * *

  Nine knights banded around Ashor, Beck, and Draven. The Knights of Inferno. They formed a perfect circle around them, like the knights were about to perform a sacrificial ritual. Through Ashor’s eyes, I watched them, careful not to move too quickly.

  They were giants, standing eight to nine feet tall, wrapped in gold armor that seemed to reflect the sun, blindingly bright and shiny. Swords hung at their hips, the handles fashioned from the same material as their armor. How could Angel have these at her disposal and never know? To her defense, she had never been to the underworld. Nor had she ever been in insurmountable danger like she had been when she killed the former King of Inferno. There had never been a need to test the reach of her command.

  Until now.

  E
very day her existence was threatened by Kali.

  If Angel called the Knights, would they protect her despite her abandonment? They only obeyed the Queen or King of Inferno. Sending a few of them to the mortal world would definitely raise a few brows, but I didn’t care as long as they kept her and my family alive.

  It became key that Ashor convinced them to fight for him. Was it possible for Angel to command them from the mortal realm? That could be an answer, but it wouldn’t be that simple. And if Angel stepped a toe in Hell, the Queen of Darkness would murder my best friend. She wasn’t about to let a second chance slip through her gruesome fingers.

  “Trespasser.” The word echoed over the valley, the voice of nine knights speaking at once, but not a single mouth moved. They just eyeballed the Prince of Darkness, never blinking.

  Ashor held out his arm, showing them Angel’s seal—her demon mark. “I received an invitation.” The sigil burned bright red, a signal.

  “What do you want?” they demanded, standing as still as statues in the same pose, mimicking one another. Not a single knight glanced at the mark Ashor bared.

  Ashor’s gaze drifted upward to the looming darkness prowling toward them in the gloomy sky. It had almost reached the grim vortex spinning over the center of the mountain. “My mother is here,” he informed them, his tone quiet and cautionary.

  “She is,” the knights replied, no inflection in their monotone statement, just cold fact.

  Beck shifted on his feet beside Ashor, and Draven rubbed at the back of his neck, each agitated and braced for a battle, regardless that their expressions were calm but alert.

  “Then you know what she wants,” Ashor said.

  “Yes.” The affirmation rang through the valley before being swallowed by the howling winds created by the vortex. I had a feeling that if Ashor were to fly too close to the spiral, it would have sucked him up.

  These guys really weren’t big on talking, and the omniscient element in their collective voice freaked me out. It was weird, creepy, and unnatural.

  Ashor’s eyes once again flicked to the sky. “Join me to stop her,” he said directly. No point beating around the bush. There wasn’t time, not with his mother and her demons on the horizon.

  “We serve only the Crown of Inferno,” the knights declared. No wiggle room allowed.

  God, sometimes I really hated law abiders. Like, come on. Once in a while, you had to break the rules to do what was right, to follow your heart.

  The problem was these demon pricks didn’t have hearts. Fuck, they barely had souls.

  Frustration rose within Ashor, joining mine in the vision. “And you would continue to do so,” he assured. “I am not asking you to serve me but to protect your kingdom, to protect the crown.”

  A beat of silence followed, and I thought for an instant they were actually considering his words. “This is not our war.”

  The first kernel of disappointment grew in my gut. Ashor’s magic sputtered in his veins, but it was swift and barely detectable. He was able to control not just his emotions but his reactions with unsurpassable precision. “Not yet, but it will be, and if you wait until she is at your doorstep with her army in tow, it will be too late.”

  “Our answer remains. We will not fight for a traitor,” the nine answered definitely.

  And there went that. Our last ray of hope, gone.

  The Knights of Inferno had rejected Ashor’s offer. Rage. Defeat. Injustice. A million other emotions swelled between him and me. It all felt surreal. The bad guy, or evil queen in this instance, wasn’t supposed to win. That was not how a happily ever after ends.

  I wasn’t saying that I was a princess or that Ashor was my knight, but fuck, we deserved an ending better than this. How long would I continue to be punished? How long would I continue to live my life in misery, heartache, disappointment, and shame?

  The pain of it all had to stop. This couldn’t be the end, not when it felt like we had just begun to fight.

  “No. You’re making a mistake,” I whispered, wanting so desperately for them to be able to hear me. If I had been at his side, I would have gotten on my knees and begged the knights to reconsider. I would have sold my soul. Did they not understand that the fate of their kingdom was at stake?

  Did they really want Kali as their queen?

  Who in their right mind would pick that bitch over my mate? It made no sense, but that was essentially what they were doing. Fucking fools.

  But demons didn’t think rationally. They didn’t take into account all the other worlds that would be impacted by this single decision. No, they stuck to their rules. To their idiotic laws that were as ancient as they were.

  Ashor’s head hung, defeat slumping his shoulders. This was his last hand. Without the knights, he had no army, no allies. He would have to go up against his mother alone.

  Ashor snapped his head up, and I thought he might try another approach, not yet giving up, but no. His wide gaze went over the knights. This was the moment Ashor realized I was in trouble. He blinked, his demon exploding from within him. I felt his power swell, the wings springing from his back, and the low growl rumbling in his throat. His body shook with an uncontrollable rage that threatened to crumble the mountains surrounding him. Even the knights looked uneasy for statues who hadn’t so much as moved a muscle.

  I didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to live it through his eyes. I already knew this outcome.

  * * *

  A sharp pain jostled me awake, a feeling I’d become familiar with—the tip of a blade or razor-pointed nail dragging over my skin. This time, it was my lower belly. A cry slipped between my clenched teeth.

  It wasn’t much of a consolation, but the pain was a reminder that I wasn’t dead. As long as I felt the agony Soren inflicted, then there was still hope.

  My body would heal. The pain would stop. And the torture would start again until Soren broke me.

  I cracked my eyes open, expecting to see the bastard hovering over me, but the room was empty. And different. Bars replaced the wall to my right. The bed underneath me wasn’t soft but hard and cold. My fingers curled into a scratchy blanket, dirty and bloody, and when I tried to relax them, I found they wouldn’t move, cramped from clamping for so long.

  A cell.

  I was in a prison cell.

  It took me another moment to gather my bearings, and when I did, the vision slammed into me. Violence simmered in my blood, a rage so pure it scorched the cell, sizzling the damp, cold floor and creating steam that billowed around me. I’d never felt anger like that, and knowing such fury lived inside my mate, so strong that it transferred through our bond from a dream, blew my fucking mind.

  How was that possible? The vision had been at the very least days ago.

  My crappy, small cell was all the reminder I needed of where I was and how I got here.

  My doing.

  My fault.

  My choice.

  And in a way, I was responsible for the immeasurable wrath coursing through his body.

  What happened when he couldn't find me? When Soren took me into the mist, disappearing into the secret crevices of Hell? Ashor would go mad tearing the underworld apart. And since Soren had finally moved me to the Court of Darkness, I had to assume Ashor had already been to see his mother, had turned her Fortress upside down, stone by stone, mostly because he could, because he needed an outlet to release the fear and anger clutching his soul, his body, and probably his heart too.

  Soul. Body. Heart.

  That’s what we were to each other, even if I’d been too scared to say the words. Of course I loved him. How could I not? And he knew but never pushed. Patient to a fault, that was who the Prince of Darkness truly was.

  Our bond would have told him that I wasn’t within her court. Had she tried to bargain with him? Offer him a deal for my release?

  God, I hoped not, because he would take such a deal without so much as blinking just to save me. I refused to think about what lengths and sacrif
ices he would make.

  Dammit!

  This was not how things were supposed to unfold.

  Why hadn’t Soren just brought me directly to the queen? Then it would have been me striking a deal, not my mate.

  The part of me that missed him chased his scent that clung faintly from the vision, not ready to let it go—let him go. But it was out of my control. Another moment or two and the stench of death, decay, and piss would be all I could smell. I refused to believe that those final moments in the Court of Inferno would be the last time I saw Ashor. If the vision was true, then was it all over? Had we lost? Had I let myself be taken for nothing?

  Without the Knights of Inferno, there was no Court of Sorrow, no army. And I knew my mate. His focus would have shifted. He wouldn’t be finding another way to stop his mother. No, he would be on his way to me. Had I just issued both of our deaths? We would die to save the other. This was our end.

  Death.

  Reality set in like my feet were weighed down by stones and I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Each depth grew darker and darker. I huddled into the shadowy, damp corner of my cell, tears I hadn’t let myself cry since my capture spilling like a geyser down my cheeks. The floodgates had been opened, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing until they ran dry. My shoulders shook as I hugged my arms around my legs, dropping my soaked face into my knees.

  Everything was so fucked-up, and though the details on how I got to the dungeon were murky, there was no mistaking it. I was back in the Court of Darkness, and my accommodations were just as damp and desolate as I remembered. Memories I’d like to forget.

  It felt like I could cry for days. The breathless hiccups caught in my throat, the sobs racking my body, and the endless tears running down my face. My sorrow had nothing to do with being locked in a cage and everything to do with being apart from Ashor, as well as the heavy loss of probably the world.

  “It’s not over, demon huntress. Not yet,” an ancient voice said from the dark recesses of the dungeon.