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When I arriveat the border, prepared to stay until nightfall as usual, I encounter my first resistance from Rook Idrys, who blocks my path with his knights as soon as Quillion and I emerge from the carriage. The demon mares huff and puff embers behind us, flicking their fiery manes.
Rook Idrys is much the same as he was in Court the day Neo took his wings. A dark, abrasive beard matches his thick, heavy brows, deep midnight blue robes, and ostentatious feathered cap—far poorer tastes compared to Quillion and his sharp embroidered waistcoat, ascot, and fedora. Only, Idrys’ flesh also bears thousands of scarred lacerations all over his body. That must have been something else Neo added—hundreds of scythe cuts. No, thousands, perhaps even a million. Strange, considering a vampire could easily arrange for their healing…unless that is forbidden. As if he is proud to wear the Prince’s near death by a million cuts compared to Quillion, who does not share his trauma, does not use it as a weapon.
Approaching me in a strutting sort of saunter, Idrys extends his cold and clammy hand that feels when he welcomes me from the carriage, brushes his lips across my knuckles, and tilts his chin so low, his cap feather pitches against my face, reminding me of that abrasive beard. “Good morning, Princess. The last time I saw you, Father’s hand roamed your body without any interference from his son.”
Hmm…so that is how the rook cares to play. Undoubtedly, word has spread of Neo’s discontent with me. I know the laws of the land. If any vampire survives the Prince’s punishment as Rook Idrys has, that vampire is granted immunity and means to do whatever he pleases. And with the Prince’s newly granted authority, it’s little wonder the vampire pleasures in baiting Destruction’s bride.
The heat of contempt churns in my belly, but I wave my hand in dismissal and scoff in a formal but sovereign and sparkly voice, “Good morning, Rook Idrys. The last time I saw you, you were screaming before the entire Court with your bloodied wings’ stumps bared.” Idrys snarls, tugging on my knuckles, eyes drifting lower to ogle the high slopes of my breasts. Someday, I intend on feeding him those eyeballs. And I’d need only one cut. Okay, maybe two.
Despite my worthy quip, Quillion slides a protective hand along my back and smiles pleasantly up at the dastardly rook. “Good morning, Rook Idrys. Though the morning’s adjective can be debated, now that greetings are dispensed with, may I ask what the meaning of this is,Rook?” he concludes with the word as if keenly aware that Idrys’ authority is higher than his on an official level but not a personal one.
“The Prince gave strict orders that hissecond wifemay not be permitted beyond the Iron Walls,” responds Idrys, clutching his elbows.
The fuck?
“Surely with my permission as her escort—” begins Quillion, his fingers curling at my back, indicating his attempt to try.
“It is far too dangerous for a young woman to mingle with the stock…” Idrys croons down at me, that licentious gaze roaming to add, “…not when her first duty is to attend the Prince in his quarters. And to warm his bed.”
“As opposed towettingit each night like he did the floor the last time at Court,” I taunt Idrys with a hiss but also know when Neo has checked me. Even now, his presence prods my mind, poking my barriers as if to give himself an arrogant mark.
Supercilious ass, I hurl the insult at him before slamming all my mental borders, overhearing his fading maniacal laughter.
After Idrys gripes at my affront, he gestures to Quillion. “My knights will escort you to the quarantined zone so you may continue your studies on determining a cure. On the Prince’s orders, half a dozen nurses and two doctors will join you.”
I huff because it’s less than a tenth of the staff necessary to attend that many people, all those families. Idrys’ eyes slither across my body in full intention of what he has in mind when he informs Quillion, “I will be more than happy to escort the Prince’ssecond-wife back to the Court if she so desires,” he hints, eyes wolfish and eager for plunder.
“Pass,” I say without equivocation and kiss Quillion’s cheek, reassuring him I’d be fine. He balks a little, but I ruffle his ascot and tap his nose, “Stop your fussing, you flouncy old fossil. Give my best to Jes. Bride LysSpiritwill be just fine,” I hint with my faux title and hope he picks up on it.
As I climb into the carriage and direct the driver to take the high route just as Neo once did with me, I ruminate on the Prince’s orders. He said I was not permitted beyond the Iron Walls. He never said anything about goingunderthem. I take a deep breath, proud of myself before I consider the underground grotto, Neo’s Soul Pool.
If I can’t help the people afflicted by the Scourge, I’ll go to the Spirit Realm and determine if I may find the host: this multiplicitous vampire. Neo’s grotto is the perfect doorway.
I grip onto the side of the coach, my determined muscles preparing themselves. I’ll have to concentrate more than ever on phasing there. Thanks to some additional preparation, I change out of my fire gown and into a battle outfit of thick leather-armored leggings, a corset-bodice tunic, and sturdy boots. A knotted bun completes my ensemble.
Upon exiting the carriage to the path flanked by iron trees, I dismiss the coach and travel to the scenic overlook. My flaming gown skirts stir the blanket of ash. Despite the cinders, my blood warms from a little adrenaline rush. The overlook offers a sweeping expanse of the Tenth Court with its three mega-towers and nine surrounding castles with their accompanying towns, the highways that pass blood pawn manors and countless human blood farms, and the causeways leading to the Iron Walls.
Hands fisted at my sides, I suck in breath after breath. I remember what lies in that Spirit Realm: the playground of Chasm monsters swarming with gruesome tree portals of teeth, bones, and hair clinging to the black bark. Hordes of ghouls, the Fallen, demons, the forest playing tricks upon me, and if I’m lucky…a multiplicitous vampire who may just be the host key to this Scourge.
After a moment’s pause to close my eyes, I squint, facing the Iron Walls. I hone my vampire vision and scan the recesses of those mountains, beckoning to my phasing Halo power. For a few minutes, I concentrate and practice because I can’t afford to make mistakes. Can’t afford to end up inside the mountain rock instead of the grotto.
Channeling my power, I recall the emotions of those moments when Neo brought me to his lovely, dark, and deep. The elation from finding the Altar, from his Dragon saving me, but the inner turmoil of deep anguish from a little girl’s boy until he restored what he’d destroyed before my very eyes. More elation followed. Reverence soon after when I restored her captured soul to their windows. It was the first time I knew I truly loved him…after I’d gifted him a brand-new heart.
Halo fluttering in my chest and branching its essence through the veil of reality and matter, I seek the energy of those souls. I seek the bond Neo and I shared of our single night as one flesh, though I can’t imagine our one flesh uniting now. Despite this faux heart, despite his missing memories, he doesn’t deserve my bed flesh. He doesn’t deserve my heart. He doesn’t deserve anything for adopting this patriarchal, monarchial mask that he’s sealed onto his face. Can we ever hope to restore our bond?
Once I sense the brush of that energy, like a live wire to feed my arteries and slingshot right into my Halo, I clutch onto it as if it’s a tether. I cinch my power tight around it and teleport through that tether like it’s a trail of stardust.
Within moments, I’m panting and gasping, hearing the rushing of my breath loud enough to overlap the steady flow of all the waterfalls around me. Slowing my breath and the rapid beat of my heart, I turn to behold all those lonely souls in the grotto pool. Woken for the first time in months, the wispy souls float to the surface.
And all I can think to say is, “I’m sorry…”
Chapter17
“To the Scourge’s lair, you asked to go…careful, honey sweet, and don’t let it infect your soul!”
My lungs grow thin as the air grows thick with the presence of the dead. A deathly shiver crawls along my skin from Jack Frost as I embark into the playground for Chasm escapees. Can Thanatos sense me here where the boundaries between worlds are looser, the fabric of reality shredded? One thing is certain: he won’t summon me any time soon, nor will I invoke my Noralice. As soon as he revealed his secret, he burned whatever bridge between us that was still in construction.
I am on my own.
