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“Jericho.” The real Vaszhago’s voice held a quiet warning. “This is not real. I’ve no intentions with your female.” His words sliced over my bones, and I ground my teeth.
“Haven’t you, though? Do you think I don’t notice the way you make eyes at her?”
“Making eyes is not fucking her. What you’re seeing now is lies.”
The imposter Vaszhago shuddered a breath. “Had I known a human felt this good, I’d have fucked you sooner.”
Farryn whimpered beneath him, wriggling against her chains.
On a furious roar, I plowed forward, and the scene faded into smoke. The anger inside of me remained, though, and a haze of red clouded my vision as I swung around, grabbing Vaszhago by the throat and pinning him to the wall. “Drink the vitaeilem,” Vaszhago said on a rasp.
“I do not need vitaeilem to see the truth!”
A deep, cramping ache hammered at my muscles, and I let out a growl, as Vaszhago’s powers took over me, paralyzing me. The demon reached into my pocket and pulled the vial.
I could do nothing, as he poured the last of it down my throat.
“I swear by the gods that I have not touched your female in that way. While you often make me want to run my sword through you, I would not betray you like that.”
The vitaeilem took hold, bathing the heat of rage in a cool wash of calm. He was right. The labyrinth played on my own guilt and fears, and the only thing in the world I feared was losing Farryn. Outside of the labyrinth, I trusted the demon, as he’d proven loyal.
I grabbed Vaszhago’s arm and gave a sharp nod. “Forgive me.”
“Come, let’s find Farryn and get the fuck out of this place.”
62
FARRYN
Iplaced my palm to the handle of the door when a figure to my left captured my attention. The blonde stood off from us, and an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu swept over me.
“Farryn.” Long, golden spun, almost white hair rested on her bony shoulders. Her eyes, a deep chestnut brown, drew attention to the soft pale glow of her face. In spite of her small and fragile frame, which looked to be wracked by hunger, she carried an ethereal beauty.
The woman from my nightmares. From my hallucinations.
Syrisa.
The boy whimpered and scurried off in the other direction.
“Wait!” I called out for him, but he disappeared into the shadows. An intense pain struck my belly, and I rested my hand against it.
The woman let out an evil chuckle.
Lifting the blade I still carried, with Vespyr’s blood smeared across the metal, I steeled my muscles, preparing myself for whatever this final encounter might’ve been.
She lunged forward, and I swiped out at her, my blade cutting through nothing but air. Still, she stood there, as if waiting. Smiling in a way that curled my bones.
As she lunged again, I pushed through the door and, once on the other side of it, rested my forehead against the steel panel, breathing hard.
From somewhere behind me, a baby cried. My muscles twitched at the heartbreaking sound, and I squeezed my eyes tighter. I had a feeling this door would be the worst of them.
I can’t take anymore. Please. I don’t know if I can take anymore.
I turned around to be greeted by my bedroom back at the cathedral.
Back to the beginning.
In the center of the room stood a white cradle, and with cautious steps, I approached. Lying inside was a baby with jet black hair and stardust eyes. With a trembling hand pressed against my mouth, I stared down at it. Notit.My baby. There was no doubt in my mind.
