Page 30 of Demon Food

It was a written letter. Well, not quite a letter as it was only two sentences. But they weren’t written in Novithish. They were written in Vultaen.

Fuck, it’d been a long time since I’d seen it in written form as humans were strictly prohibited from learning their language, meaning no books and certainly no personal letters. It was part of the reason why I made sure Landry and I could both speak it, building on what my parents taught me, seducing vultae into teaching me more. I was nearly fluent in the spoken form but written was trickier.

I sounded out the first word which translated to My.

“My dear-est Al-e-kus,” I said aloud, then paused.

Alekus. I recognized that name, but I couldn’t remember where from. It was unique, Alekus. And quite strong.

“Be sh-ure to remem-ber the non-entities,” I continued, sounding out the complex Vultaen words, “when y-you are…” I trailed off at the last word, chewing my lip. I’d seen it before. Not often, but I had seen it. “Remember the nonentities when you are…”

My gaze swayed around the room and back to the letter, and around the room again. Oh, wait.

“King,” I said. “Be sure to remember the nonentities when you are king. For-ever at your ser-vice, D-doctor Barrion.”

It took me a moment, blinking at the page, cocking my head. Remember the nonentities when you are king. But the only problem was, Alekus wasn’t the king’s name. Sorlen. Sorlen was the king’s name. Which begged the question:

Who the fuck was Alekus?

I folded the letter into the journal and shut it back into the drawer to stare at the empty room with slightly new eyes as something like panic began to claw at my stomach. I’d assumed this was the king’s room. I’d assumed. But what if it wasn’t?

Remember the nonentities when you are king. When you are king. So, the prince? Was this the chambers of a prince?

I stormed to the armoire, yanking the heavy-ass doors open to find neatly lined shirts in a palette of white and midnight blue, all embroidered with the Novithian crest on the breast. I jerked open the drawers to look for anything that might identify who Alekus was.

Then I found it. Tucked in a drawer all on its own was a box crafted from the same unusual black wood as everything else. I pried open its lid to find a crown.

It was delicate. Too delicate to belong to a king. Crafted from white golden metal, it was spiked so sharply that it looked like it might pierce the skin of whoever tried to wear it.

The only time the royal family threw one of their parades was to celebrate the birth of a vultus child. There hadn’t been any parades in nearly twenty years, and I knew that because the only parade I ever attended was also the last time I saw my parents alive.

Which could mean nothing, and I was going fucking mad. Or it could mean that this prince was the precise age when a demon’s body chemistry transformed. Around nineteen was when their bodies rejected the food that had always nourished them, and they metamorphosed into their true natures. It was called their ‘awakening.’ When they became a creature who fed on sex.

I suddenly felt the weight of the chain around my neck. I suddenly felt the heat of the fireplace, like it was filling this room with smoke, and I couldn’t breathe. Sweat began to bud on my neck with each step I backed away from the crown.

If Prince Alekus was nineteen, then it was possible he’d never fucked. Which meant I was chained to the room of a virgin.

I was chained to the room of a wicked, lethal killer.

11

I’d wrapped the chain around my hand thrice to pull with all my might as I clenched my teeth and grunted, but no amount of adrenaline surging through my veins would make it budge. It was bolted into the floor by thick screws and an iron plate.

“Fuck!” I hissed through my teeth, darting for the window.

Night had nearly fallen and all I could see as I hooded my hands over my eyes were the lights of distant wood-cooking fires on the horizon. The gardens directly below us were empty of people. I tried to pry the window open by its lever but even that took preternatural strength to open.

Even if I could open this window, all I could do was hang myself by my own chain.

I pounded my hand on the glass once, then charged for the washroom. I’d checked every drawer and nook in here for any kind of weapon, but there was nothing. No fancy sword or opulent royal daggers. Fucking nothing.

Okay, think.

Thinkthinkthink.

Yes, the vultae were extraordinarily strong, but that was if they fed. I’d never met a virgin as there were entire systems to choose a vultus’s first, but it only made sense that if they derived their powers from feeding, then maybe I’d stand a chance in a fight against a virgin. Maybe. I didn’t fucking know.

My chain trailed me like a stalking snake as I pinged around the washroom in search of anything I might use to defend myself. Nothing.