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Now that he’d learned the Crows had killed his family to get their hands on his rare magic-wielding abilities, he also knew he had something special to barter with.
A gift a god might be interested in. Especially since he’d just lost one of his emissaries.
He stepped forward and crossed into the portal. Blackness surrounded him. Here, Devon floated in air that felt thick and light at the same time. It was neither cold nor hot but the same temperature as his body, and the experience was—oddly comforting. Like he was floating in a dreamless sleep.
Devon had opened countless portals, ever since he’d learned to master the spell. It was second nature by now, almost like breathing. But never in his life had he actually seen the God of Shadows. He was always a deep voice in the darkness that demanded payment, but he never showed his face.
Today, it was different. Today, Devon heard the echo of distinct steps in the distance. When he turned, trying to locate the source, he found nothing.
He needed to keep his mind clear of any memories the Shadow God would grab and steal for payment. Instead, he thought only of his reason for being here.
To speak to Dargan himself and the deal he wanted to propose.
“You deny me my payment?” Dargan’s voice was a velvet caress against Devon’s skull, and an icy chill crawled up his back as the god finally came into view. “The deal is simple, human. You cross through my world and give me a memory, or I shall take something else. Your eyes, perhaps? Or your tongue?”
He was incredibly tall, with long, silky black hair that got lost in his fitted suit jacket. A glowing crown hovered above his head, casting yellow light over his sharp features and wide shoulders.
Fear clawed at Devon’s throat. Nothing illuminated their surroundings, and Devon’s body grew heavier, as if he was about to touch the ground.
But even with the fear growing like a sickness through him, he kept his mind blank. He’d been training his entire fucking existence not to let his mind wander. He could do it for a little longer to get what he truly wanted.
The god strolled around Devon, clasping his hands behind his back while he eyed Devon with growing curiosity. “You want to be immortal?”
“For a time…”
“For a time?” Dargan’s dry laughter echoed in the cavernous emptiness. The darkness was beginning to clear, revealing an immense ceiling with stalactites hanging over them. Dargan’s eyes shone brighter, and a cunning smile took over his features. “What makes you think I will release you once you’re mine, pet?”
Devon recognized the look on Dargan’s face. He was a god, but humans had descended from these beasts. He desired Devon’s soul much more than a silly, insignificant memory.
“I don’t owe you anything other than a memory, and my soul is mine to keep.” Devon paused when the air caught in his throat. It was the same shortness of breath that had been winding him since he’d held the Vulcan that second time. But he couldn’t dissolve into a fit of coughs right now, not when he was making a bargain with Dargan.
“Your soul is poisoned, and you have little time left to live,” the God of Shadows said, and his magic moved in swirling shapes. It looked familiar. So much like Arkimedes’s aura that it made Devon feel stupidly safe.
“I will manage. I have a friend who is a Beekeeper. She’s fond of me and might keep me alive long enough for me to get my revenge…” Although Devon highly doubted that Nava and his brother were interested in following him to the Iron Kingdom to burn the Society of Crows to the ground.
Not when they’d just inherited an entire kingdom themselves.
“Is she fond of you, like you are of her?” Dargan questioned, inspecting his fingernails. They shone, black and long like claws. But it wasn’t his inhuman hand that had Devon’s heart racing.
Shame burned deep within his wretched heart as it ached with the feelings he’d been unable to shake for months.
“You look surprised that I know.” Dargan stepped closer to Devon, and an intensity bled into his features that he couldn’t place. “You think I don’t know how much you love the Beekeeper?” Dargan chuckled. “Your brother’s soulmate. You already know that those feelings are wasted, as she would never feel the same for you. Are you ashamed of your envy?”
He was. Devon had never wanted to fall for an untouchable woman. He hated being jealous of Arkimedes, who was his beloved brother. The bastard got it all, while Devon was stuck in here, making a deal with this devil.
He swallowed past the knot in his throat, digging his fingernails into the fleshy part of his palms. “You can read my feelings. Would you prefer that payment over my request? Because if you can take away my love for her, then be my guest.”
Dargan tilted his head, looking more curious. “So why lend me your soul if you can live out there without my help?”
“Because I need immortality,” Devon said. “Everyone has a reason to want something, and I’m not above bargaining what I have at my disposal to get what I desire. You’re a god, and yet you want my soul, sick and all.” A cough rattled past his lips, and he could taste copper on his tongue. But he wouldn’t allow that to hold him back, not when he was so close he could taste it.
“You won’t be immortal if our deal has a timeline,” Dargan reasoned. “Why not give me your entire soul and then no mortal can touch you for an eternity?”
“Because I don’t want to belong to anyone,” Devon said. The truth brought a lightness to his chest. His breaths became shorter, the itching in his lungs increasing the longer he held off on coughing. He reached for his pocket but found his arm was too heavy to even grab at the potion he had stuffed in there.
“You can cough if you need to.” Dargan stopped so close to Devon that his face hovered mere inches away. It was rather perfect, with a straight nose exactly the right size for his angular face, golden eyes and unblemished skin. “I’ll take your soul for one hundred years of service, and when you’re free, you will no longer be ill.”
A century away from Caztian didn’t sound half bad. The Society of Crows still wanted and remembered him. He could only visit in brief spurts of time, much like Leir had done whenever he’d let the Zorren in, before the shadow world had pulled him back.
