Raphael returned with an armload of clothes, and despite Wrath’s warmth, I almost snatched the clothes from his hands. I grasped a pair of pants and tugged them on before pulling a shirt and a sweater over my head. Lastly, I slipped on a couple of socks and boots. The clothing was a little baggy, but I welcomed the warmth it provided.
When Caim opened his wings to reveal Fiora, Raphael’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything when Fiora leapt from Caim’s arms. She stared at the clothes like they were the strangest things she’d ever seen, but she followed my lead and quickly dressed.
When Fiora was halfway dressed, I realized there were also clothes for Wrath. Raphael must have told Corson and the others he was with us. Uneasiness turned in my stomach as I studied the pile of remaining clothes.
They knew, and they’d sent clothes back for him too; what did that mean?
I dreaded facing Corson and the others with Wrath’s marks on me, but it was inevitable. I had no idea what would happen when we were all together again. They wouldn’t attack him; they wouldn’t take the risk of hurting me by doing so, but what would they think of me?
I’d never cared what anyone outside of my king and those closest to me thought of me before. I wasn’t in this battle to make friends. I was here to destroy enemies, but my friends were my family, and one of the enemies was my Chosen.
Would they hate me or be disgusted by me?
No, they would never turn on me for this. We couldn’t pick our Chosen, and they understood the pull of the Chosen bond. However, they might not trust me as much, and I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. I’d kept this from them.
“How much farther is it?” I asked.
“Another mile or two,” Raphael said.
Not too far, but I was ready to get the confrontation with the others over.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wrath
When we arrivedat the hotel where the palitons had taken up residence after fleeing the calamuts, I stayed by Bale’s side despite the hostile looks the others gave me as we made our way through them. Only one human remained in the crowd.
I didn’t return their hostility and kept my face blank as I watched their every move while waiting for an attack. I wouldn’t make the first move against them if they decided to pounce, but I would make the last one.
Zorn’s head swung back and forth as he surveyed the small group and snorted a stream of smoke from his nostrils. The palitons closest to him backed away, and I forced myself not to smirk. It would only take one word or motion from me for Zorn to unleash his pent-up aggression on them.
I rested my hand on his neck, and he calmed a little beneath my touch, but I felt the lingering tension in his powerful muscles. It was more than being here amongst our enemies that had us both on edge. Once they learned where I was, Pride and Death would come for me, and it was only a matter of time before they learned it.
However, I didn’t intend to stay. I couldn’t leave my Chosen behind, but this was not my world. These were not my demons. We were fighting for entirely different things.
And I still wanted the varcolac dead.
I would do anything to keep Bale safe, but years of animosity weren’t easy to forget, and I didn’t want to forget it. I spent twelve thousand years in a box, plotting my revenge, and my plans hadn’t changed.
I remembered her saying he’d toured the seals. That he’d gone where no other varcolac before him had, or maybe the others all visited the seals too, but I’d been in one of my hibernation states and hadn’t noticed them, just as I hadn’t seen this one.
The others wouldn’t have told me he was there, not unless it was close to my waking, and for all I knew,allof us were hibernating when he came by. However, for some reason, I didn’t think any of the other varcolacs had ventured down to the seals. We were the monsters best forgotten about, and I’m sure they all tried, except for maybe this one.
There was a reason this varcolac inspired such loyalty in Bale and the others who followed him, but especially Bale. She was a warrior; it was difficult to win a warrior over, but this varcolac had done it. Maybe there was something in him worth following.
My resolve wavered before I slammed it back into place. It didn’t matter if he toured the seals or not; he still left us there.
I didn’t want to disappoint Bale, but I could never let go of my hatred for the varcolac. Forgiveness wasn’t in my nature. My nature was enjoying wreaking havoc on unsuspecting victims before sitting back to watch the fruits of my labor come to life.
Or at least, I thought I’d always been that way. A distant memory tickled at the edge of my mind, but like so many other memories, I couldn’t grasp it. Some things were so long ago I couldn’t remember if they ever happened. And, in truth, did they happen if I couldn’t remember them?
I shoved aside my philosophical ponderings as we stepped out of the entranceway with red carpets and dusty light fixtures and entered a much larger room. Tables, chairs, and booths crowded the room.
In the center of the room was a square bar with dust-covered bottles still lining the shelves in the center of it. Dusty glasses hung from a rack in the center of the bar. The entire place was shrouded in gray from the layer of dirt covering it. From other demons and tree nymphs, I’d learned places such as this were once called restaurants.
Corson, Magnus, Shax, Hawk, the skellein, and their Chosen sat at a large table on the other side of the room. They rose when we entered the room, and though their gazes roamed over Bale and me, their expressions gave away nothing of their thoughts.
Dust coated the tables we passed, and Zorn bumped into one of the stools at the bar. His skin rippled beneath my hand when the stool clattered against the bar, but he remained otherwise unfazed. Corson, Shax, the skellein, and Magnus looked as if they’d seen a ghost when their eyes fell on Fiora.
