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Lady Veronica swayed, looking ready to collapse in my arms. “And in the other we are consumed by the fire.”
Megaera
Demon sorceress
most revered and feared of the Lamashtu Clan
MEGAERA PACED THE FLOOR to her cavern bedchamber, wearing a path in her plush carpet while ignoring the pathetic cries of her future meals that hung from the wall while rattling their chains—humans that were too weak or old to fight. She preferred to feast on young women and children, but she needed every able-bodied human for her army, so the infirm and elderly would have to do, though their meat wasn’t as fresh and tasty.
She spun around as footsteps echoed outside her bedchamber. Her nostrils flared when she smelled the warm, delicious Ravini blood nearby. Using her third eye, she spied Gordin, as he was known by his unfamiliar name, her highest-ranking spymaster in the adjoining tunnel gathering the courage to pull back the drape.
“You may enter,” she called to him.
Gordin pulled back the drape and quickly crossed the room to her. He was a Naraka, or an incubus as mortals called them, living in the body of a once noble and proud Ravini Fae, having easily accepted his host after fleeing Malvolia’s Crimson Tide twenty-four years ago. He was big and strong, with an impressive wingspan. One side of his face appeared like a melted ball of wax, his ear and hair missing after a confrontation with Malvolia’s mages, but that was his only flaw. Otherwise, he was a perfect specimen who didn’t mind Megaera’s ugly canine face, birdlike feet and hands, saggy breasts and paunch, or the stench from her crotch when she demanded to be pleasured. Even better, he had the ability to teleport, bringing her information from her spies all across the world within minutes. She had oftentimes thought about killing him and stealing his magic for herself, but as long as he remained useful and loyal, and continued to do that thing with his tongue, she would let him live.
He reverently bowed, his wings tucked in nicely behind him. As usual, he was shirtless, revealing a well-toned chest and abs. “Mistress, forgive my intrusion.”
She waved away his concern, pleased with his groveling. Everyone called Megaera Mistress, for they didn’t know her by any other name. They never would. For to do so was to subject herself to an eternity of miserable servitude. A demon never revealed her true name to anyone, even when compelled by magic, for they were spellcast to resist the siren’s call. Only torture could extract their names.
There was only one other demon she trusted with her true name, her twin, Empusa. Having shared a womb, they had been born knowing each other’s names. The bitch who’d conceived them expected them to devour one another at birth, but they’d combined their magic while still in the womb, clawing their way out of their bloody cocoon and feasting on their mother’s remains. They had made a pact in infancy that they would protect one another for an eternity, and that’s what they had done. When Megaera had wormed her way into this world, it was always her intention to bring Empusa with her. Empusa hadn’t been able to come through the portal in her demon form, for it had closed before her sister could join her. But Megaera had found a way to bring her sister here by infecting a Fae infant with her blood. Now that Fae infant was a full-grown noblewoman with powerful magic who would soon join her, for she sensed Empusa’s presence nearby.
Megaera rubbed her talons together. “What news do you have from the front?”
Gordin stiffened, focused on a spot beyond Megaera’s shoulder. “Our spies report Thebes’s attack against Peloponese has failed, and they have sought refuge at Kyan’s Temple.”
She let out a low growl. “How did Malvolia lose when Fachnan’s dragons have fled?”
Gordin looked at her, then quickly turned his gaze to the floor. “Shamadi has a new body, a wyvern.”
“No.” Her top lip pulled back, and she flashed her rotting fangs. “Who has given him so much power?”
Gordin visibly swallowed. “The demon now known as Fachnan.”
Damn him. “Do we know the demon in Fachnan yet?”
“No, Mistress.” Gordin shook his head. “Our spies report he may be a metamorphi.”
Megaera sucked in a hiss through her teeth. “Metamorphis cannot be trusted, and they’re harder to wield. I have worked too hard to gain control over this world. I will not let Shamadi and this metamorphi take it. I need leverage over him.”
“You do have leverage.” The melted side of Gordin’s face barely moved as the other side pulled back in a slanted smile. “Shamadi is injured. Our spies say it may be fatal.”
Megaera let out a purr of satisfaction. “Has Peloponese no green witches?”
“All Fae have fled Peloponese.”
Megaera was pleased. Though the elements didn’t favor demonkind, they had no control over their fates, and Megaera would use it to her full advantage. “Then send a tribe of demonlings to Shamadi and this demon king. Tell them they must swear a blood oath to me if they want our help.”
Gordin arched his one good brow. “Hasn’t Shamadi already sworn a blood oath?”
“Years ago.” Megaera crossed over to the iron table beside her bed, pouring herself a goblet of blood wine. “The oath became void after he entered Selig’s body. No one blood bound to me can summon a metamorphi without my permission.” Of course, she failed to mention that Thorin had always found a way to defy her. His magic was stronger than her bond, but he was a rare mage.
“Yes, Mistress.” Gordin bowed his acquiescence, though she sensed his hesitation.
She took a slow sip of wine while leering at him over the rim of the goblet. “What?”
“Our spies also report Malvolia has reconciled with her sister.”
“No!” She tossed her goblet against the stone wall, enjoying how her human meals quavered when it splattered crimson liquid across the cavern. “Thorin’s spells must be wearing off.”
