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“When were you last there?”
It has been centuries, my queen.Another shudder rippled through him. He wrapped his barbed tail around his legs, looking more like a timid cat than a ferocious drake.My rescue attempts failed. Forgive me, but Gorgo has the power to eradicate.
Looking into his wide, glossy eyes, her heart twisted in a knot. Tan’yi’nug had been her best friend ever since she’d found his abandoned and cracked eggshell and raised him from a hatchling. They’d been inseparable until that fateful day when their entire world imploded. She couldn’t imagine the desolation and pain he suffered.
“I know he does.” She got to her feet, dusting sand off her pants. She leaned into him, hating how he flinched when she touched that bare spot of leathery skin on his crimson chest. Dragons had only a few weaknesses, the biggest one being their heart scales. A spear to the chest could mean permanent obliteration for Tan’yi’nug. “No witch has ever healed your heart scale?” she asked.
He shook his head.I trusted none other than you.
She nodded, guilt threatening to overwhelm her. “Come here.” She plastered on a smile and crooked a finger. He leaned into her, purring like a cat as she placed her hand across his heart. Magic poured through her, warming her hand and arm before transplanting to his exposed hide. After a few minutes, his scale had been restored.
She stroked his new scale, so shiny she could see her reflection. She was momentarily floored by the woman looking back at her. She had Eilea Lupescu’s facial features, though her skin was now a dull silver like a worn blade. Her brown eyes were now golden, and, of course, there were those two horns jutting from her skull. Her thick, dark hair hadn’t changed much, still in tight braids. She gently touched her face. Her skin felt the same. She wondered if her mates would accept this change or shy away from her. She heaved a groan, wishing she wasn’t obsessing so much about her mates. Her mates. Her soul was thousands of years old, and here she was obsessing over men who’d been in her life for less than a decade. Still, it couldn’t be helped. She was hopelessly in love.
When Tan’yi’nug nudged her, his deep purr vibrating her bones, she wrapped her arms around the bottom portion of his neck, mindful of the heat that leached into his scales. “Better?” she asked.
His purr grew louder.I don’t deserve your kindness.
“No regrets, my friend.” She touched his face, searching his eyes. “Let’s look to the future, instead.”
He arched a scaled brow, giving her a long look.And what does your future hold, my queen?
She knew what he was asking. Would she choose her mates over him? Would she leave him again? She wanted to answer, “No!” But how could she when she was so hopelessly in love? She averted her gaze, unable to stomach the judgment in his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”
* * *
WITH HIS BLOODY HANDSwrapped in bandages, Gorgo dragged himself toward his flames. The walk took too long, for he was still light-headed. Once he reached the stone pit, he leaned sore knuckles against the hot bricks, calling on a vision of his lechers. He saw only the two alphas, dragging their legs through the sand, making so many grunting and groaning noises that they were sure to scare off his prize. He didn’t need to use his prognosticating abilities to know they would fail him. He found Morana again, still curled up in a ball in the desert. Was she dead? Paralyzed? It made no sense.
Worthless slaves. He would have to secure the girl himself, but he refused to leave the safety of his cavern. He hadn’t ventured out into the wasteland in thousands of years. He dared not abandon his flames, for he was useless without them. They were what strengthened his magic, his prognosticating abilities. Demons referred to such a tool as an emunius, a rare relic that magnified magic. He’d been nothing more than a common demon before he’d stumbled upon them. Should other demons discover his secret source of power, they’d stop at nothing to destroy him and claim the flames for themselves.
He couldn’t let that happen, so he’d have to find another way to secure her, a sacrifice to the flame. He stood, the brittle bones in his back cracking with the movement. His loss of blood made him too sore to walk without support, so he grabbed his cane from the side of the well, resenting the lechers for turning him into an invalid as he leaned against the gnarled wood handle. He pushed himself toward the sealed door leading to his vault of treasures, a shallow cavern enchanted with protection spells. He dragged a talon across his arm, letting black blood pool at the threshold while whispering an opening spell. The slate walls heaved and shook, slowly opening to reveal the room as black as pitch that smelled of musty, old blood. He called upon his flames to light the way. Sparks flew from the well, lighting mossy sconces hanging on the walls.
After digging through discarded limbs and skulls, he found the iron treasure box with the spider carvings, whispering a spell to unlock the precious vial of Morana’s blood cradled inside the soft velvet lining. He slipped the vial in his pocket. He would need it for his spell, but he’d also need a live sacrifice.
After sealing the door behind him, he went to the adjoining dungeon, a dark cave with slate walls and dirty rushes on the long row of cell floors. This was where Gorgo kept his prisoners, mostly volucri, bug demons with green faces, large, multi-faceted eyes, and translucent wings, that had been cast down from the upper level by the Vindictus. Such sweet, innocent creatures, such simple minds, just like children. Their blood fed his lechers and him, so he rarely fed them to the flames, but he was all out of the apprentice witches that had been given to him by the Vindictus.
He heard their squeals preceding his arrival, feasted on the scent of their fear. He unlocked the door of the closest cell, the clanks of the rusty keys attached to his belt echoing through the cavern. The winged creature dove into a pile of hay, but he was easily discovered with a whip of dark magic that wrapped around the squealing demon’s extremities and pinned its wings. Then he floated the whimpering creature with him to the flames, pulling him on a dark leash of magic. Normally, he would’ve fed off the volucri’s blood, but he’d need to feed the flames every last drop for the size of the army he was going to create.
“Never fear, my innocent,” he said soothingly, dragging his talons across the bug demon’s torso, whose bound form floated beside him. “The flames need to be fed, and you are going to a better place.”
And with that, he tugged on the leash of magic and tossed the creature into the flames. Then he poured the vial of Morana’s blood into the flames. Gorgo licked his lips while raising his arms as his senses feasted on the volucri’s screams of pain. The flames rose, slapping the cavern ceiling with acrid smoke as shadows in the shape of spiders fanned out across the walls, snuffing out the candles and sconces before bathing the room in pure darkness.
Gorgo tossed back his head with a satisfied sigh as the darkness wrapped him in a cloak, infusing his pores with more magic and strength. The flames were pleased.
After the darkness subsided, Gorgo raised his hands, his talons unraveling, and he called to his renewed source of power.
“Flames of rage and shadows of scorn,
Find the witch with the soul reborn.
Poison her heart with barbs of spite,
Warp her mind with fear and fright,
And send her to her lord of night.”
Smoke poured from his talons in long streams, blowing past his face before snaking to the floor and taking form, first as thousands of stones no bigger than his fists, and then those stones sprouted eight spindly legs, bulbous bodies with red abdomens and glowing red eyes—his personal army of demonling jorogumo spiders. His demonlings would find the witch, and when they did, they would fill her with their venom and coil deep inside her soul, planting the seeds of destruction. Giving little heed to the pain, he rubbed his bandaged hands together. Very soon, and she would be his.
