Page 145 of Elysian

“I’ll help Archer see how bad it is,” Damien said, going to his horse and unsheathing the sword. “Be careful.”

I nodded.

“Hold on,” I called, pulling the reins, and spurred the mare forward. She neighed, hooves thudding across the cobbled path. Velma squeezed my waist, bunching the fabric of my dress.

“My husband!”

“Archer will make sure he is well!” I shouted to be heard over the wind.

Blood streaked the streets, both red and blue. I kept forward, not turning to look down the various roads. As we reached the end of the village, an awning-covered path led to the brothel. A knot formed in my throat.

Many moon rotations had passed since Drusilla had dropped me off at the brothel. It seemed a different lifetime ago. What lay ahead terrified me. What would happen to society? Everything was collapsing both literally and foundationally. The realm was much too large to save everything at once. Survivors ran through the village, battling off the squat Hollows. As I watched, a nicely dressed woman adorned in jewels and splattered blood thrust forward an amulet. The Hollow did not hesitate. It caught her hand in its mouth, taking with it the amulet.

Not even those evil amulets repelled this type of Hollow. And there were more that had swarmed from the ground in The Barren.

I turned away from the sobbing woman holding up a bleeding stump and clutched the reins.

So much death and bloodshed. Both blue and red ran. Death had rendered us all equal. I yanked the steed around and continued through the village toward the House of Lords. The stone pathway led to the gated section. I traveled along the slim path until it broke into two directions. One would lead to the Citadel, but I rode toward the House of Lords, passing slain bodies of the Guard. The quick slice across the neck told me it had been Cassiel who cut a swath through them. I forced the horse into a gallop, holding on for dear life. I could not have been too far behind him after he’d left.

As I rode up through the gates of Sycarious Court, I slowed. Heads lined both sides of the Grand Hall entrance, mounted on spears driven into the stone.

That face . . . It was Lord Dillon. His jaw was unhinged, mouth gaping in a macabre scream. The edges of his mouth had been split. Crusted blue blood smeared his face and plastered his hair to his scalp.

Velma gasped in horror behind me. I yanked the mare to a halt. Abrax grazed on the lawn, a peaceful dichotomy to the savagery of the heads.

“Ride to the side to the kitchen entrance,” I ordered. “Wait there for me. You are welcome to anything.” I dragged my weak leg over the horse’s side, exhaustion making my movements stilted.

I landed shakily, needing to take hold of the horse to balance myself. I handed Velma the reins as she adjusted herself better. Her face was stained with blue blood that had turned a deeper shade now that it was dry and crusted.

Velma hugged her child to her chest, one hand keeping him flush against her while the other hand pulled on the reins to move the mare. If she did as I directed, I would find her at a later time. If she chose to flee, that was also fine.

My gait was uneven as I moved toward the steps. I neared the steps and the heads impaled on spikes on both sides of them. Blood dripped from a dangling ligament, plinking against the stone. My stomach rebelled as I stared at the corpses. The one beside Dillon was Horveau, then . . . Lord Cedric, then another council member and another after that.

I turned away, unable to stomach more, and climbed the steps of the House of Lords.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Council

Inside the Grand Hall, the headless bodies lay where they had fallen. Robed forms littered the entrance and led up to the throne. Their positions told the story of where Cassiel felled them. Cassiel had gathered the council near the throne. Based on their positioning, they had tried to run away as Cassiel slaughtered them.

Blue splattered across the stone walls. It seeped between the cracks and ran down the length of the Hall. I stepped onto the rug of fleurlets, the fabric squelching under my weight. Each step brought me closer to the throne. Cassiel was hunched over a dying council member, feeding. No sign of weakness or withering on him.

Not once did he look up. As I neared, all I could hear was the sound of his grunts as he fed and droplets of blood falling to the polished surface.

I climbed the steps, avoiding the decapitated body lying broken. The empty spot in my chest was no more, his proximity setting things to right.

“Cassiel?” I touched his shoulder.

He snarled, turning to me with a hiss, blue staining his mouth.

His wild eyes rested on me as his nostrils flared. He lunged for me, slamming me against the throne, fingertips digging into my bottom.

Bloodlust had a hold of him. He inhaled and shoved his face into my throat. My teeth rattled at the force. He sank his fangs into me. I yelped at the sting of his bite, pleasure and pain becoming one.

“Cassiel!” I dug my fingers into his hair.

His grip on my arms tightened. He dragged a gulp of blood and pulled away with a gasp, red on his lips.