It should infuriate me that she, like so many other demons, had allowed Earth to change them so much their scent reflected it, but with her, my anger didn’t come as easy as it usually did. I also enjoyed her refreshing aroma.
But I shouldn’t. She kept refusing me; she hadstabbedme. I slapped my hand off the rock floor, and my fire raced up to my elbows. I welcomed the heat of the flames and the release of the rage coiling incessantly within me.
Thiswas who I was. It was who I’d been for so many thousands of years that I could barely recall most of them anymore. My age, like so many other things in my life, was lost to me before the varcolac sealed me away with my fellow horsemen.
And now, some demon, theenemy,was making her way into my life and my dreams. For twelve thousand years—or at least that’s how long the other demons said we spent behind our seal—I sat locked away with my brethren.
For twelve thousand years, I’d harbored and nurtured a hatred toward the demon who locked us there—the varcolac. For twelve thousand years, theonlything keeping me going was the possibility that one day, I would break free and murder the bastard who locked us away. It was the only dream I harbored during those desolate, lost millennia.
Of course, while behind the seal, I had no way of knowing the varcolac who locked us away was dead, or that Lucifer and the angels had penetrated Hell, and many varcolacs had risen and fallen over the years. However, I didn’t care that the one who ruled now was not the one who locked us away. He was stillthevarcolac; he hadn’t freed us, and he would pay.
But at what cost?
We had already lost six of my brethren. I despised them before being sealed away; being locked away with them for thousands of years hadn’t engendered any love for them. Instead, my hatred for them grew, but they were my fellow horsemen, and no matter how much I hated them, we were the only ones in existence, and that bound us together.
When this was over and the varcolac was dead, I planned never to see any of them again. There was a chance a new varcolac would rise. If it did, I would kill that one too, and all those who followed. But there was also a chance the downfall of the seals and Hell would make it impossible for such a thing to happen.
And when the varcolac was dead, I would not hide anymore. I would go out into the world and claim what was mine… a demon with fiery red hair and lime green eyes. Bale would fight it, but I had not lived this long and come this far to be taken down by the Chosen bond. Enemy or not, shewouldyield to me.
I rose from my bed of rock and, not bothering to dress, made my way toward the exit of the cavern. My horse, Zorn, lifted his head from where he stood in the corner. He blew out an impatient breath, but his hooves clacked against the floor as he followed me from the cavern. He easily could have stayed behind, but we were often in view of one another. That was the way we preferred it.
My bare feet didn’t make a sound against the rocks. Stepping out of the cavern, I ignored the rocky walls and golden statues I passed as I made my way toward the exit. I should stop reaching out to her in my dreams, but the fiery temptress was impossible to resist.
Every night I went to sleep, determined to keep it under control, but for the first time, I couldn’t control one of my abilities. Before meeting Bale, I hadn’t been able to connect with others in such a way.
Now my ability to connect with and enflame the emotions of others had twisted itself into something that allowed me to communicate with her while we slept. The Chosen bond was the driving force behind this new development, and it only worked with her. Once I discovered I could connect with her, I tried to do it with others and failed.
Shewas the only one I could connect with, and now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop, which did not help to improve my increasingly foul mood.
However, each time we connected, she allowed me to get a little closer and touch her a little more. I recalled her wetness against my fingers, the way her breath caught, and the passion shining in her eyes.
The closest I’d gotten before was unbuttoning her pants, but little by little, I was wearing down her defenses. Soon she would let me inside her, and even if it was only a fantasy, it was real enough that I wanted more of it.
My flames caught and reflected in the statues as they burned hotter. Unable to ignore the shimmering light reflecting in the gold, I glanced at the carvings watching me from the shadows, or at least it felt as if they watched me.
When I first entered this forgotten place, the carvings fascinated me. I’d spent hours and days studying the demon statues lining the walls. Upper and lower-level demons lined the hall in almost equal amounts. This place, having risen from Hell like so many other things, consisted of hell stone and the statues.
However, I’d never seen anything like them when I was free in Hell and had no idea what material was used to carve them. They were all in different positions. Some were standing, others knelt, some sat, and one lay face-first on the ground. Many of them had weapons, some held nothing, and a few held bowls or clothes or mugs.
The mystery of this place fascinated me, but because we couldn’t let anyone know anything about our location, I didn’t ask any of the other demons about the carvings and what demon made them.
I didn’t understand what had compelled a demon to create these things. Demons were not creatures given to creation; we much preferred destruction. It was what we excelled at; so seeing these carvings throughout the halls was surprising to me. But what amazed me more was my fascination with them.
At times, I contemplated battering all of them until only dust remained. I wasWrath, so it was my responsibility to ruin everything I encountered, but as I pictured destroying them, I recoiled from the idea and couldn’t move any closer.
I was a creature of destruction; these things were a work of art and beauty that should offend me, but I couldn’t ruin them. And my fellow horsemen wouldn’t destroy them; they didn’t harbor an overwhelming impulse to ruin everything in their path.
Well, War did, but he was more strategic in his destruction than me. He incited people to violence, but they did it on battlefields or in large groups. When I set my wrath free, I didn’t care how those it affected killed whoever got in their way. Part of the fun was the never knowing how or what someone would do when they cracked.
That’s why I was nowhere near as boring as War and the others. I was unpredictable, and so were those I affected. Death simply killed, Pride preened, and War could take years to get his victims into the full swing of things. I took mere seconds.
Now, with only myself, War, Death, and Pride left, there was no one to destroy the statues, except for me. And I didn’t have the time for it.
I refused to acknowledge that I might like or admire the carvings. I didn’tlikeanything. I’dneverliked anything.
I was thousands of millennia older than most demons. I never knew my parents; I wasn’t sure if I had parents or evolved from the bowels of Hell. And it didn’t matter to me if they once existed or not. If they once lived, it was so long ago I didn’t remember them, and I doubted there was any love between us.
When water splashed over my feet, I pushed aside my troubled ruminations as I neared the end of the tunnel. I didn’t go all the way to the end. I stood there and let the coldness seeping into my bones quench the last of my lust for Bale.
