Deidre's Death (#2, Rhyn Eternal) (3 page)

“You’re the Dark One. It’s not common
knowledge yet,” Wynn whispered.

“Not yet. Soon.”

“What are the terms?” Wynn wasn’t about to
ask why it was secret or spend too much time in Hell with the
violent creature before him.

“Heal her,” Darkyn said. “You have five
days. If you succeed, you leave.”

“If I can’t?”

Darkyn moved in front of him. Half a head
shorter than Wynn, the demon lord nonetheless commanded any space
he was in. His black eyes saw through Wynn.

“If you can’t. If you won’t. If you don’t.
If you cause more damage,” Darkyn said in a soft, lethal voice. “I
will do to you what I wanted to do to Sasha. It will last for
eternity. Every second of your life will be worse than the
last.”

“Understood,” Wynn said. He looked away.

“You will have access to any equipment you
need from any realm. The oldest of the healers has tried to repair
her without success,” Darkyn added. “Summon me when you know what
you may need.”

“What of Deidre?” Wynn ventured. “Your …
mate.”

“What of her?”

“She’s the only innocent caught up in this
mess. You are showing your daughter mercy,” Wynn said carefully.
“Can you not also show her mercy?”

“What I decide to do
with
my
mate is
of no concern to you,” Darkyn said in a low growl. “If I decide to
keep her, I’ll blood-bind her, in the tradition of demon mating.
It’s the oldest bond there is, old enough to keep the mating bond
from shifting when she wins her deal.”

Wynn listened, aware of the demon blood bond
and its origins from the time-before-time. The mating bond of the
Immortals and deities and the blood bond of the demons were the two
oldest bonds, unbreakable under the Immortal Code and from the laws
older than the Code. But he didn’t see Darkyn taking a blood bond.
The creature that refused to bow down to the Dark One was not going
to allow itself to become blood-dependent upon a mate of human
origin.

It would be endless torture for Deidre.
There was only one creature in any world that deserved to suffer
from a blood-bond, and that was past-Death.

“I don’t lose deals, Wynn.
If I decide
not
to keep her, I’ll kill her,” Darkyn finished. “Either way,
she will not leave Hell.”

“Will you kill her quickly at least?”

“How important is she to you?”

“Not enough for me to consider a deal,” Wynn
said, aware of where the Dark One was headed. Hell ran off deals,
but Wynn’s life was already in enough trouble without incurring
another debt on behalf of a woman who had no hope of ever escaping
Hell.

“For you, Wynn, if I decide to kill her,
it’ll be slow. You can watch the woman who brings sunshine into
every room fade away like the sunset.” Darkyn’s words were
mocking.

Wynn gritted his teeth. He didn’t feel the
Dark One in his mind, but he was there, reading his weaknesses.

“I hope you can one day see her as I do,”
Wynn said.

“You have a greater concern,” Darkyn
reminded him. He slid away.

Silently agreeing, Wynn released the breath
he held only after he heard the door close behind Darkyn. His eyes
went to the girl in the bed. At least the challenge and its terms
were almost fair. What was Wynn, if not a healer?

He pushed Deidre from his mind. His own
survival was more important. She was fucked at this point, and he
hoped Darkyn killed her. Even if slow, her death would spare her an
eternity at the hands of a demon with insatiable bloodlust.

Past-Death, the original Deidre, felt no
different until she stepped into the apartment she visited once
before leaving her underworld in the hands of Gabriel. It was then
she felt the effect of what Darkyn had done to her.

Her skin was prickling the way it did when
another deity used magic around her, the fair hair on her arms
standing on end. The colors of the mortal world were brilliant, the
light in her bedchamber blinding her. Beneath her feet, the carpet
was plush enough to fascinate her as she took a step. It cushioned
her bare feet the way she imagined a cloud might.

Her attention shifted as the world around
her continued to register. She was … cold. Hungry.

No, starving. It
hurt.
Had she ever been
so hungry? Deities ate for pleasure, not out of need.

She wasn’t expecting the intensity of
sensations in the human world.

Shivering, she stripped out of the Hell garb
and flung it aside to put on some of the clothing she’d chosen. Her
soul had been sentient only since she died-dead, about six months
ago. Her soul had been planted into the human’s head upon birth.
Death was required to give up its soul when it ran the underworld.
Past-Death didn’t remember why exactly, but the rule was that Death
could not be a responsible collector of souls if it did not
appreciate what it was to have a soul. Without one, she had existed
in a state of sentience without feeling, a world of permanent
grey.

Being dead-dead was pleasant, though she’d
tried to pay as much attention as possible to the world outside of
human-Deidre’s head. She recalled people, places, and some
routines, like those that human-Deidre did at least once a day:
getting dressed, the bathroom, showering.

If not for Gabriel, past-Death had no reason
to want to try to leave the simple existence of a soul. She’d
forced herself to try to watch human-Deidre as much as
possible.

Past-Death stood before the wardrobe,
considering what human-Deidre would do in her place.

Deidre ran her hands over the clothing in
the wardrobe, gasping at the sensations. The sweaters weren’t just
the most vibrant shades of autumn, they were softer than anything
she’d ever experienced.

She stood back,
astounded.
This
was what it was like to be human? Was this why humans were so
ensnared by their world and their minds so limited? Moving from the
wardrobe to the dresser drew her attention to the carpet again.
Cool air made all the skin of her naked body prickle.

She grinned, enjoying her newfound
abilities. With great focus, she dug through the undergarments in
the dresser and chose a set that matched, like human-Deidre did.
Deidre managed to pull them on and then went back to the wardrobe,
selecting the softest sweater and a pair of jeans. Infatuated by
the carpet, she kept her feet bare.

Pleased with herself, she began to think
being human wasn’t going to be so hard. It was going to be much
more pleasurable than she imagined. Now that she was alive again
and survived Darkyn, the hardest part was over. All she had to do
was practice for a day or two and then find Gabriel. They’d start
their lives together and live happily ever after.

“Light, off!” she commanded the annoying
overhead lights.

Nothing happened. She rolled her eyes,
recalling she had no magic.

“Deidre?”

She perked at the voice and strode to the
landing overlooking the bottom floor. She recognized the female
death-dealer at once.

“Cora,” she said. “What are you doing
here?”

“Sleeping on your couch. You were asleep
when I got here,” Cora replied. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Deidre’s gaze was caught by the bank of
windows lining one side of the penthouse. They’d been there when
she originally selected the apartment, of course, but the sight of
the sunrise left her breathless. The sun was brilliant, the pinks
and oranges – combined with the multiple shades of blue sky as it
lightened – creating a vision beyond that of any dream.

“Wow,” she said.

Cora followed her gaze, brow furrowed. “Are
you alright?”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It’s a shame
there’s only one.” In the underworld where she spent almost her
entire life, there were two suns and two moons.

Deidre returned her attention to the
death-dealer, who looked confused. Deidre went downstairs. She had
to appear to be a normal human by being careful in everything she
said and did. She knew from watching human-Deidre where the food
was and opened the pantry door. Cans and boxes lined the shelves.
Nothing looked … edible.

Lipton
Tea
. Deidre reached for the box. She
opened the box and carefully unwrapped a tea bag, attention
arrested as much by what was in her hands as the stiffness of
paper.

She held up the bag by its string. The tea
she remembered drinking didn’t look like this. It came in a cup.
Her gaze went to the cupboards. There were mugs there, she
recalled. She opened them until she found one and placed the bag in
the cup. Stepping back, Deidre waited for the tea transform into
what she remembered tea to be.

Nothing happened.

“This isn’t working,” she said, perplexed.
“Do you know how to do this?”

“Um, yes,” the death-dealer said.

“Oh, good. You can show me. We can have
breakfast.” Deidre went back to the pantry, trying to remember what
human-Deidre ate. “Do you know where the omelets are?”

Cora didn’t answer. Deidre turned to find
the assassin staring at her. She’d said something off but wasn’t
sure what.

“We can make some,” Cora said.

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to … uh, remind you
how?”

“Yes, please.”

Deidre stepped back as Cora moved into the
kitchen.

“This is a Keurig. You can make tea with
it,” she started.

Deidre watched closely as Cora demonstrated
how to heat water, insert the teabag and then add sugar. She tested
the tea Cora made and was thrilled at the rich, sweetened
flavor.

“Wow,” she said. She crossed to the pantry
again, suddenly curious about what kind of new, intense flavors
awaited her in the assortment of boxes and cans.

“The eggs are in the refrigerator,” Cora
said.

Deidre hesitated. The death-dealer gave her
another long look before she pointed to the stainless steel box at
the end of the kitchen. Deidre crossed to it and opened both doors.
One side was cold, the other freezing. More food items lined the
shelves of both. Her eyes went over the shelves. She read the names
of everything, until she found the eggs.

She removed the carton from the fridge,
opening it as she walked to Cora. She carefully lifted an egg.
Fascinated by the cool, smooth texture of its shell, she bumped
into the counter. The egg fell, and she gasped as it exploded on
contact with the floor.

“I can fix it,” she said quickly and
knelt.

“No, no. Um, it’s … you know what, you can
drink your tea and I’ll make breakfast,” Cora said, taking the
eggs. She handed Deidre the teacup and saucer.

Deidre went to the breakfast bar, eyes
following Cora’s movements. She had to learn to do everything a
human did, and she had to learn fast. Her eyes went to the strange
red chili lights dangling around the edge of the kitchen. She
wasn’t certain she liked them; they clashed with the creamy décor
of the apartment.

As she watched Cora, Deidre began to think
she’d missed a lot over the past few months despite trying to pay
attention to the human world. Preparing food wasn’t something
human-Deidre did often. She ate at restaurants, where food was
brought to her.

But the day she met Gabriel, human-Deidre
made an omelet. Deidre wanted to experience everything about that
day. It was the second strongest memory in human-Deidre’s mind, the
day when both of their lives changed.

The strongest memory in human-Deidre’s mind:
the moment she realized she’d made a deal with the Dark One, when
his fangs had pierced her body. Deidre wasn’t expecting to go
through it with the human. Even as a sentient soul, she’d felt
fear.

It must have terrified human-Deidre. She
frowned. As a deity, she had few real emotions. She was numb to
most of the world, and the colors of the worlds were muted. The
thought of human-Deidre in the hands of the Dark One made her feel
something … unpleasant.

Deidre studied her hands. They were so
human, their coloring peachy, the skin delicate. She hadn’t looked
in a mirror, but she guessed she had the healthy coloring of a
mortal. At least she had the mind of a deity still, the memories
and …

She froze. Memories.
Deidre concentrated hard. She’d expected Darkyn to screw her over
somehow, and she now knew how. She was human
in every way
, including her
memories. She recalled nothing beyond her human age of twenty-six
years. Knowledge gathered over tens of thousands of millennia …
gone! She struggled to recall what her real mother looked like or
the day she became Death or even the day she met
Gabriel.

The memories were gone. Something cold slid
through her. The sensation was almost physical. If she had to
guess, she’d call the emotion fear.