Page 69 of Touched By Death

When they exchange glances, I retrieve the decanter filled with whiskey and throw them a quick look over my shoulder. “If he’s dead, I’ll have you all thrown into a dungeon to rot.” Chuckling under my breath, I reach for a tumbler, pour the whiskey, then place the decanter down. I take a sip and let the burning sensation caress my throat as I take in the somber energy in the room. Genesis got away… It’s laughably tragic. She’s a liability if I ever fucking saw one.

“I don’t have a dungeon. Well…” I shrug. “I do, but that’d be boring. I think I’d much prefer something a little bit more entertaining, like waterboarding and prolonged torture before removing your wings.”

One look at their group, at the sheer horror on their faces, has me chuckling again. I take another sip. “Where’s Daemon?”

“Well,” Dmitriy starts, clearing his throat. “It’s a long story.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

AURELIA

“Daemon,” I whisper, shrouded in shadows and huddled in the dark corner. Time has ceased to exist in this dark, windowless room. Shaking and shivering, my tears have long since dried. Monstrous shadows dart for the corners, gleaming eyes watching me as the candles threaten to flicker out.

“I’m here.”

My heart gives a painful thump. “You found me.”

“I found you.” Heavy footsteps drag over the concrete floor, past the drain in the middle. The smell of midnight and dew accompanies the fingers that tip my chin up as he stops in front of me. “Did you miss me?”

“So much,” I answer, my voice croaky from lack of use.

The fingers slide down my jaw in a caress that starts out tender but soon turns rough when he grips it tightly and rams the back of my head into the wall. “What have I told you? I don’t want to hear his fucking name.”

Throbbing, agonizing pain explodes inside my skull, and I’m vaguely aware of the cold bite of steel against my cheek. Crouching down, he taps my lips with a knife. “I’m looking for a way to break your fire-bond with the heir. Once it’s severed, we’ll find a way to replace it with ours.”

“Please, let me go,” I whimper.

“They’re coming for you.” He shushes me when more tears fall. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. I won’t let them take you from me. We’ll be together with no barriers soon. I promise.”

His voice fades in and out, a distorted murmur that seems to whisper one second and scream the next. The world is an endless blur.

“Shh…” His mask warps and contorts as rough fingers brush my hair off my tear-streaked cheeks. I try to move away, only to cower when his palm connects with my face in a hard slap. “Don’t be ungrateful.”

Robe swaying around his pants-clad ankles, he rises to his feet and blends with the shadows. In the ensuing silence, the creak of a door whispers sweet nothings to the despair inside me. He’s gone. One by one, the candles flicker out, descending my world into complete blackness. Shrouded by the shadows, I listen to the call of the woods. They whisper my name, like a song on the wind. Haunting and eerie. A rustle of leaves in the midnight mist. Crooked, thin branches that snag in my hair. Pinecones and broken sticks beneath my bare feet.

As I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head against the damp concrete wall, the chain rattles, reminding me of my prison.

“They’re coming for you.”

I let those words carry me away like the soothing notes of a lullaby.

AMENADIEL

As we exit through the door, we’re greeted by a high, ribbed, vaulted ceiling, stained-glass windows, and flying buttresses. Antique, English oak pews line each side of the church. Up ahead, a pulpit with intricate detailing draws the eye. Tall candles light up the space everywhere you look.

No sooner has the door shut behind us than Daemon scents the air and takes a left, weaving through the pews.

“A cathedral,” I say with a chuckle, my voice echoing in the vast space as I look around at the impressive building. When I spot Daemon halfway down the aisle, I do a double take. He’s sniffing the damn air, with his fangs on full display and near-black eyes. “I never took you for such a bloodhound.”

Ignoring me, he takes off toward the tall front doors. They creak open like unused, rusty hinges when he pushes down on the wrought-iron handles. Leaves blow across the floor, carried on a sudden chilly breeze that brings in the scent of midnight and fireflies.

Shrugging off the sensation of eyes following me, I stride down the aisle. A prickle ghosts my neck, and a bead of sweat trails a slow path between my shoulder blades and down my spine. Keeping my steps even, I emerge into the dark night. Daemon is turning in a slow circle between two weathered gravestones covered in ivy. “She’s close.”

I look around the dark graveyard, eyes scanning over the cherubs, shrubs, and tombstones. The silvery moon offers just enough light to see by, lending an ethereal, eerie air to the place. As I walk a few steps forward and turn to look up at the monstrous cathedral, a chill makes its way down my spine. Blinking up at the tall spires and fanged, winged gargoyles, I suppress a shudder.

“Why do you look so spooked, Grandpa?” Daemon taunts, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he steps onto the narrow path.

With a dismissive scoff, I walk past him. “I’m not spooked.”

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