AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The woman who metme at the door smirks, arms crossed at the end of a long hall leading off the foyer. A dark-haired man is beside her, sweat beading on his brow as his voice carries, chanting in a melody that would sound like music to the unknowing ear.
“What do you think? Will the Lord of Solaria agree to a meeting now? Not only do we have his son, but the king’s traitor brother, too.” Her grin pulls wider when I step toward the hall, only to find an invisible wall rippling there, keeping me from coming any closer. Trapping me.
“Please.” I scoff. “No one is going to listen to a blood witch, high on their thirst for power. My brother would sooner chop off your head and the queen? She’d level this mansion to ash with all of you in it. I wouldn’t try her. She tends to see flames when her family is messed with.”
The glamour making the woman appear mostly human vanishes in a flash, becoming rotting skin and brittle bones. Black ooze drips from every orifice of her face as she steps closer, the patchy bits of hair on her head flowing in the breezeshe creates. Though, the moment she’s before me, not even the barrier between us can hinder the stench that has my stomach roiling violently.
“Hold your tongue, or I’ll remove it for you,” she seethes through toothless gums.
“I’d like to see you try,witch.”
She leans back, her narrowed eyes widening just a tad. “Strong words for a caged creature.”
“Caged?” I say, my lips twisting into a toothy grin. “Who said anything about being caged?” My power answers me in eager anticipation, and that dark part of me… It’s been twisted to crave the bloodshed, the screams, thevengeance. It’s almost therapeutic to me now.
I crook a claw around that tangled mess of an origin strand, slicing it in two and the wards trapping me within this room come crashing down. The witch inhales sharply, staggering back, but she’s not fast enough.
Within a blink of an eye, my poisoned dagger is embedded in her friend’s eye and my taloned hand is around her throat. Claws break the gray, lifeless skin there, and I anchor her wretched body to mine.
“Do you feel that?” I whisper, taunting the witch in my arms. “That’s your pulse against my fingers. One noise, one glimmer of magic, you bleed out on the floor, got it?”
Her form flutters between the old haggish creature I grabbed and that of the cherry-haired young woman I met at the door. Throat bobbing, she gives a slight nod, hands curled around my forearm as if she could hold me there.
“Good, now where the fuck is my nephew.” She doesn’t answer right away, and my hold tightens just a tad.
She raises a gnarled finger that looks as if it’s been broken and healed wrong too many times. “Through there,” she whispers,and my eyes linger on the door near the end of the hall that she suggests.
The scent of decay grows stronger the farther we move down the hall, the woman’s body stiff in my arms. She takes tentative steps as we pass the mage lights flickering on the walls, repeatedly dimming only to blaze a second later, as if someone has channeled the flames themselves. When we reach the designated door, the witch opens it, and no sooner do I hear it click free from the jam, my boot collides with the wooden slab, throwing it open.
Five witches, as close to death’s doorstep as the woman in my arms, jump up all at once. They whirl to face me, eyes widening at the sight. The woman’s warm blood slips between my fingers, running down my arms and dripping onto the dusty floor. Though, where it used to hold a crimson hue, it’s onyx now, polluted by blood magic—by death itself.
“What is the meaning of this?” One of the witches has yet to stand. Instead, she’s seated on what looks like a throne made of dark twigs and bones. Unlike the others, her skin is flawless, her blonde hair rolling over her shoulder in smooth waves. Icy cerulean eyes narrow into slits as she regards me, not bothering to lift a polished fingernail from the arms of her makeshift throne. “First, you strip my house of its wards, and then you think it wise to sink your talons into one of my mages? That’s quite the entrance. Even for you, Asmodeus.”
“You didn’t exactly welcome me inside, and at this point in my life, I've grown tired of pleasantries.” A quick glance around the room has my heart sinking into my stomach. “You lied,” I whisper into the witch's ear, trying not to breathe in the pungent odor rippling off her.
Her spine goes rigid, her breath quickening. “If I’m to die, I’ll do it with dignity. Not by giving the Harbinger of Death what he wants.”
“My name is Asmodeus, and you lost your dignity the moment you touched one of those blood grimoires and chose to serve her.” I lock eyes with the woman on the throne. Calliope. She used to be one of the mad king’s favorite mages and somehow it doesn’t surprise me that she’s developed a love for the darker forms of magic. She was always a bitch.
“Where is he?” I demand, earning a look of triumph, like she knows something I don’t.
“Oh Griffin, darling,” she calls, twisting her wrist in the air.
The wall behind the throne ripples and waves until the magic falls away to reveal a large cage made from iron bars that meet the ceiling in the otherwise decrepit space. Within, Griffin is clad in nothing but a skin-tight strip of fabric that only covers the bare essentials. Long, thin straps loop over his broad shoulders and he leans nonchalantly against the barred door, arms crossed.
“Has the mistress returned for round—” He cuts off, meeting my gaze. “Asmodeus!”
A thick black collar is snug around his neck, a leather leash dangling freely from the clasp, swishing at his hips as he pushes off the cage wall. His stark white hair and bright blue eyes stand out against the dimly lit room, and the druidic tattoos trailing down the centerline of his body seem to pulse with a life of their own.
“Am I glad to see you,” he breathes, dragging a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “You’re going to love it here. They’ve been so nice, and don’t even get me started on the orgies—”
“Glad to know you’ve been enjoying yourself,” I say, cutting him off. Retracting my claws, I release the woman I've been holding hostage.
Her dark blood spills from the wounds on her neck as she staggers away from me, applying pressure as if she’ll heal. She’sfar beyond that. At this point, the only thing keeping her soul tethered to her practically undead body is magic.
My eyes lock on Calliope’s. “Release him.Immediately.”
“Or what? He deserves to be in a cage and even if I was to let him out, you'd bedelightedto find he won't want to go with you.” Her voice drops like she's cooing a pet cat as she reaches between the bars to stroke Griffin's sharp cheekbone. “Isn't that right?”
