Queen of the Darkness (55 page)

As Dujae walked away, Prothvar stepped up. ”It’s a different kind of battlefield, but it’s a good way to fight. Take care of the waif, Uncle Saetan.” Prothvar hugged him.

Cassandra came next. Cassandra, whom he hadn’t seen since the first party when they had all met the coven and the boyos.

She smiled at him, a sad smile, then pressed her hand against his cheek. ”I wish I had been a better friend. May the Darkness embrace you, Saetan.” She kissed him. When she faded, a glorious Black star began to shine in the middle web.

”Mephis,” he said when his eldest son approached. ”Mephis, what—”

Mephis smiled and hugged him. ”I was proud to have you for a father, and honored to know you as a man. I’m not sure I ever told you that. I wanted you to know. Good-bye, Father. I love you.”

”And I love you, Mephis,” he said, holding on hard as he felt grief swell inside him.

When Mephis faded into the web, the only one left of the demon-dead was Andulvar.

”Andulvar, what’s going on?”

”And the Blood will sing to the Blood,” Andulvar replied. ”Like to like.” He looked at the webs. ”She found a way to identify those who have been tainted from those who still honor the ways of the Blood.

But she needed help to keep those who followed the old ways from being swept away with the rest when she unleashes. That’s what the demon-dead will do—our strength will anchor the living. We’ll burn out in the doing, but as Prothvar said, it’s a good way to fight.”

Andulvar smiled at him. ”Take care of yourself, SaDiablo. And take care of those pups of yours. Both of them. Just remember that your mirror truly is your mirror. You only have to look to see the truth.”

Andulvar hugged him. ”No man could have asked for a better friend or a better Brother. Hold on. Fight.

You have the hardest burden, but your sons will help you.”

Andulvar walked to the webs. He spread his dark wings, raised his arms... and faded.

As he blinked back tears, Jaenelle walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around her. ”Witch-child

...”

She shook her head, kissed him, and smiled. But her eyes were filled with tears.

”Thank you for being my father. It was glorious, Saetan.” Then she leaned close and whispered in his ear, ”Take care of Daemon. Please. He’ll need you.”

She didn’t fade into the web, she just disappeared.

Wiping the tears with the back of his hand, he approached the webs and studied them carefully.

The first web, the moldy web, were the Blood tainted by Dorothea and Hekatah. The second web, with all its Jewel stars, were the Blood who still honored the old ways. The third web, with its spiral, was Witch.

As he continued to study the webs, he began to shake his head, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

”No, no, no, witch-child,” he muttered. ”You can’t connect them like this. If you unleash your full strength ...”

It would blast through the large Ebony Jewel in the center of the first web, travel through all the strands, sweep up all the minds that resonated with those strands, then hit all the Ebony chips, meeting a smaller portion of itself in a devastating collision of power that would destroy anyone caught in it. Then it would continue on to the next web, barely diminished.

The middle web, with all those thousands of beads of power, would provide tremendous resistance as her strength swept through it. The demon-dead, providing a shield and anchor for the living, would absorb some of her power as it flooded over them, but not all of those thousands of beads of power would be enough. That unleashed strength would continue on to the third web and...

The power would flow through that perfect symmetry, burn out the web, and shatter every Jewel chip as it came blasting back through the spiral. And once the last Jewel chip shattered, the only thing left to reabsorb the rest of the power would be...

”NO, witch-child,” he shouted, turning round and round, searching for her. ”No! A backlash like that will rip you apart! Jaenelle!”

He turned back to the webs. Maybe, if he could link himself to Witch’s web somehow, draw every drop of reserve power out of his Birthright Red Jewels and his Black... Maybe he could shield her enough to keep her safe when the rest of that explosion of power came screaming back at her.

He took a step forward...

... and everything faded.

Saetan opened his eyes. Deep twilight. Almost night.

A dream? Just a dream? No. He had been a Black Widow too long not to know the difference between a dream and a vision. But it was fading. He couldn’t
quite
remember, and there was something about that vision that was desperately important for him to remember.

That was when he noticed Daemon standing a few feet in front of him, watching him with frightening intensity.

Just remember that your mirror trulyis
your mirror. You only have to look to see the truth.

Andulvar’s words. Andulvar’s warning.

So, with eyes blinded by tears, he looked at his mirror, his namesake, his true heir. And saw.

Still watching him, Daemon reached into his jacket pocket. His hand came out as a loose fist. He opened his fingers, tipped his hand.

Little colored bangles, the kind women sewed on dresses to catch the light, spilled to the ground.

Saetan stared at them. They chilled him, but he couldn’t say why.

And when he looked up again at Daemon ... He could almost hear the unspoken plea to think, to know, to remember. But his mind was still too full of the other vision that had turned elusive.

Daemon walked away.

Saetan closed his eyes. Bangles and webs. If he could find the connection, he would also find the answers.

7 / Terreille

Surreal swore silently as she stared at the perimeter stakes. There had to be a trick to getting past them.

Hell’s fire, Daemon had gotten them into the camp without anyone realizing it, but she’d still been too stunned by his shift into the Sadist to pay much attention. And he’d gotten Marian and Daemonar
out
without anyone realizing it.

Could it be as simple as jumping over them so the contact between the crystals wasn’t broken? No, she would have remembered
that.

”What are you doing out here?” a voice demanded.

Shit.

She turned to face the sentry who was moving toward her. She was too far away from the camp for anyone to believe she was just a broken witch wandering around. But she had to try to convince this bastard. Or kill him quietly. If she ended up in a fight and used her Gray Jewels, Daemon would know she’d run into trouble and alter the rest of his plans. And
that
would allow those bitches to realize they’d been tricked and
really
start the war.

”The hut’s lost,” she said, waving her hand in a vague gesture.

He came closer, his eyes full of suspicion and doubt. ”Answer me, bitch. Why are you out here?”

”The
hut’s
lost,” she repeated, doing her best to imitate the way Tersa’s mind tended to meander. She pointed. ”It should be near that fuzzy post, but it wandered off.”

The sentry looked in that direction. ”That’s a
tree,
you stupid bitch. Now—” He stopped, raked her body with his eyes, then smiled. Looking around to make sure no one else was nearby, he reached for her.

She took a step back, placed a protective hand over her abdomen, and shook her head. ”Can’t touch another male. He’ll get mad at me if I touch another male.”

The sentry gave her an evil grin. ”Well, he’s not going to know, is he?”

Surreal hesitated. That would certainly get her close enough to ram a knife between his ribs, but it would also take time she didn’t have. The Gray Jewels then, and a fast kill—and may the Darkness help Sadi with whatever was going to happen in the camp afterward.

Down, Surreal!

She felt hind legs brush against her back as she dove.

A moment later, the sentry lay dead, his throat torn out.

A sight shield faded, revealing the blood-splashed wolf.

”Graysfang?” Surreal whispered. She touched the Jewel beneath her shirt. Gray’s fang. The High Lord had been right.

Skirting the dead sentry, she reached for the wolf.

Wait,Graysfang said.

That’s when she saw the small golden bump between his ears. The bump lifted, floated to the nearest perimeter stake, and uncurled its legs.

Surreal stared at the small gold spider as it busily spun a simple tangled web between two of the stakes.

When it was done, it picked its way to the center of the web.

The sentry vanished. There was no trace of blood on the ground.

They will not find him now,Graysfang said.
They can only see what the web lets them see.
He gently closed his teeth around Surreal’s arm and started tugging her.

”What about the spider?”

She will stay to guard the web. Hurry, Surreal.

She shook her arm free of his teeth. It would be easier to keep up with him if she wasn’t hunched over.

Switching to a communication thread, she asked,
What are you doing here? How did you get through
the perimeter stakes?

Humans are foolish. The meat trail is unguarded. Too many legs moving on the trail. The humans got tired of baring their fangs when it was only meat.

Meat trail? Oh,
game
trail.
How did you know about the trail? How did you find me?

The Weaver of Dreams told me to learn the two-legged cat’s scent and follow his tracks. He is a good hunter,Graysfang added with approval.
There is much feline in him. Kaelas says so.

Sadi, with the predatory grace even the kindred recognized. Graysfang had followed Sadi.
Who’s this
Weaver?
She got a quick image of a large golden spider—and stumbled.

Damn fool of an idiot wolf. It was bad enough that he had gone to Arachna and brought a
small
spider back with him. But to deal with the
Queen...

She asked me, Surreal,Graysfang said meekly when she snarled at him.
It’s a bad thing to refuse the
Weaver.

Surreal gritted her teeth and picked up the pace.
We’ll talk about it later.

As soon as she saw the game trail, she recognized the place. This was where Daemon had brought them through the camp’s perimeter.
I couldn’t have found this place again by myself.

You have a small snout,the wolf said kindly.
You cannot smell tracks.

Surreal looked at Graysfang—at Gray’s fang—and smiled.

”Let’s go,” she whispered. ”Do you know the way to the shack?”

I know.

An hour later, she, Marian, Daemonar, and Graysfang were riding the Red Wind to the Keep.

8 / Terreille

”I think it’s time we had a little talk,” Hekatah said, trying to smile coyly at Daemon.

”Really?”

Oh, the arrogance, the surliness, the
meanness
in that voice. If his father had been even half the man the son was...

”It takes so long for a Realm to recover from a war, it would be foolish to go through with it if it can be avoided,” she said, reaching up to caress his face as she wove a seduction spell around him.

He stepped back. ”Don’t ever touch me without my permission,” he snarled softly. ”Not even Jaenelle is allowed to touch me without my permission.”

”And she submits?”

He smiled that cold, brutal smile. ”She submits to a great many things—and begs for more.”

Hekatah looked into his glazed eyes and shivered with excitement. The air was filled with the earthy tang of sex. She had him. He just didn’t know it yet. ”A partnership would serve us both well.”

”But you already have a partner, Hekatah—one I will not deal with in any way.”

She waved a hand dismissively. ”She can be taken care of easily enough.” She paused. ”Darling Dorothea hasn’t been sleeping well. I think I’ll give her a little cup of something that will help.”

He stared at her with those glazed eyes, a man aroused to the point of being frightening—and terribly exciting.

”In that case...” Daemon’s hands cupped her face. His lips brushed against hers.

She was disappointed by the gentleness—until he
really
kissed her. Mean, dominating, unforgiving, demanding, painfully exciting.

But she was demon-dead. Her body
couldn’t
respond that way, couldn’t...

She drowned in that kiss, staggered by sensations her body hadn’t felt in centuries.

He finally raised his head.

She stared at him. ”How... It isn’t possible.”

”I think we’ve just proved that’s a lie,” Daemon crooned. ”I punish women who lie to me.”

”Do you?” Hekatah whispered, swaying. She couldn’t look away from the cruel pleasure in his eyes.

”I’ll take care of Dorothea.”

He kissed her again. This time she felt the mockery in the gentleness. There was nothing gentle about him. Nothing.

”I’ll take care of Dorothea,” she said again. ”And then we’ll be partners.”

”And I promise you, darling,” Daemon purred, ”you’re going to get everything you deserve.”

9 / Terreille

Dorothea woke up late in the morning and groaned at the pain in her belly. It felt like a year’s worth of moontime cramps had settled in her gut. She couldn’t get sick now.
Couldn’t.
Maybe a cup of herbal tea or some broth. Hell’s fire, she was cold. Why was she so damn cold?

Shivering, she dragged herself out of bed—and fell.

After the shock came fear as she remembered the brew Hekatah had made for her last night. To help her sleep. What had she been thinking of not to test something that came from Hekatah’s hand?

She hadn’t been thinking. Hadn’t...

That bitch. That walking piece of carrion must have used a compulsion spell on her to get her to drink it—and then to forget that she’d been
ordered
to drink it.

Her muscles constricted, twisted.

Not sick. Poisoned.

She needed help. She needed...

Her cabin door opened and closed.

Gasping from the effort, she rolled onto her side and stared at Daemon Sadi.

”Daemon,” she whimpered, trying to hold out a hand toward him. ”Daemon... help...”