Page 43 of Of Bone and Ash

It was her eyes.

The broken look on her face, the emptiness I saw that matched what I felt my entire life. It settled some of the hatred in me to know she had been suffering as much as I had these last few years. Something she deserves for what she’s done. I hate her almost as much as I hate the Demons sitting in front of me, and as long as everything worked according to plan, both would pay for their actions.

I’ve never had a place to belong. Not with the pets my father kept for pleasure and not with the other Demonic children born to the princes. I was born of both worlds. Something that is shunned and hardly ever happens. The ones I do know of were killed before they reached adulthood by the very fathers who sired them, because they didn’t want to have a weak Demon with their name. An action I had watched first hand by the man who sired me. The only reason Mammon spared my life was because he had no heir to take his place. I grew up knowing the moment he did, I would be eradicated.

I grind my teeth together at the reminder of my shit childhood as I look at the very men who condemned me my entire life. Nothing brings me more pleasure than knowing I’m their equal. Or rather, I will be once I complete my assignment. The Covington line must end, but I would have to take care of everything before erasing the final member. Now that I know how close Serafina is, her capture will be easy and should bring her brother here for revenge. It is, after all, Gabriel Covington’s fault that his sister has a death sentence. Killing a Royal Demon will never go unpunished, he knows that.

Asmodeus is the next to speak, his orange eyes moving to the only other new person in the circle. “Malik? How is the soul rendering going?” he asks respectfully to the newest Demonic Prince. I suppress the urge to grimace at the reminder of the dead girls I had seen when I answered Serafina’s call. There had been heaps of them, all from the school or nearby villages. I even heard Malik mention he had some Hounds bringing human girls back from the Romanian villages so he could complete his task faster.

“Splendidly, my prince,” Mailk answers with a twisted smirk on his face. Technically, he doesn't need to address the rest of the Royals that way, since he now holds the same title. But the young man has always been a kiss-ass, and I’ve always hated him for it. “The breeding grounds for the Hounds and lower class have tripled, producing more Demons than we have had in years. The lives harvested by the fertile females have accelerated their growth, and they should be battle-ready in five, maybe six months tops.”

I can't stop my nose from wrinkling in disgust at those words. Fertile females. Not that I care about a few Fae or Human deaths. I’ve killed my fair share of them in the last decade, but the way Malik lures, and then harvests the girls while they still live is something I’ll never be able to stomach. He tortures them while shredding their very essence until not even their souls can survive. It’s vile and only increases my disdain for the man. Maybe it's because I’m only half a Demon, and I didn’t inherit a taste for torture.

Death, yes. Torture for fun? No.

Or perhaps it's because I’m half Reaper. Every soul is a delight to rip from a body. The thrill of death is something that I long for. But it's the soul that I crave. The light of life that feeds my magic and makes me want more.

“Very good. What are your most recent numbers?” Asmodeus asks, nodding his approval at Beelzebub’s son. Malik looks at me and winks, his gray-tinged skin almost black in the dim lighting.

Malik and I have never gotten along. Even as children before my father forced me to move to the Fae world and become a test subject for a madman. Malik is a full-blooded Demon, Beelzebub’s heir, whereas I’m the bastard son of one of my father's pets. His true Demon wife never produced an heir for him before his death, leaving me as the only one with his magic who could take his place. Much to the dismay of every other Demon in this room.

“We are at four hundred and twelve with another eighteen due this month. Another four dozen low-born females are pregnant, and at the current growth rate, they should reach maturity in eighteen months time. We have eighty-six studs that we are using, all of them with strong Demonic traits and extraordinary strength. The males born are immediately removed from their mothers and put into care until they are old enough to be thrown in the fight pits. Females are left with their mothers for their first year of life before being removed and given hormones to develop estrus, then taken to the breeding grounds when they are old enough to carry a child without dying.”

There is a hum of approval from the princes, and I can’t help but be grateful that I don’t have to deal with the lower-class Demons. They’re little more than mindless animals, beasts who are born of Hell and have a taste for blood, death, and rutting. They’re the pawns in our wars, the soldiers sent in to destroy the first line of defense. We lost more than we thought we would at the battle in North America over a decade ago. Our dwindling numbers are a constant problem in our fight to claw back the territory stolen from us by the Angels.

“If we stay our course, we should be able to take back the territory to the east by the next new moon. Silverwood will fall easily with the help we have on the inside,” Malik finishes with a victorious growl.

“You’ve moved up your timeline,” I say slowly, looking at my clawed fingers, trying to keep myself calm. If Malik attacks Silverwood, I’ll need to get my hands on Serafina sooner rather than later. If they capture her, I risk them finding out about our past, and that would be a death sentence for me. Being half Demon is already a problem for the princes. If they found out about her, it would give them enough reason to eliminate me and pass Mammon's magic back to Hell's flame for a new bloodline to be chosen.

Malik grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the cold gray light. “Of course. Some of us are strong enough to complete our tasks before the deadline,” he taunts, and I grind my back molars together in an effort to remain calm, mentally planning his death. I’ll make sure to kill him first.

“And the Hounds?” Belphegor asks, bringing us back on topic as his gaze shifts to the Alpha class Hounds he has claimed as his own. Malik grimaces, losing some of his cockiness as he, too, looks at the Demonic monsters chained at the side of the room.

“The Hounds are proving more complicated than the lower-class Demons. Hounds born of the high-born seem to be able to reproduce with the ones we created, but when we use two lab created Hounds, not only do we lose the pup, but the mother as well. We are currently looking into a way to sire only male pups from our lab-created ones, but with the loss of Azreal and the late Councilman Covington, our research has slowed,” Malik admits with a growl, frustration leaking into his words.

“The Covingtons are a problem. The boy has hunted almost every Hound and lower-class Demon on his territory. They have captured Mannox, and he is currently rotting in a Fae cell,” Leviathan snarls, looking at me like that’s somehow my fault. “If the Covingtons were dealt with already, we would get him back!” I chuckle and cross one ankle over the other. I can’t help but be pleased about Nox’s capture. I met the man as a young boy in the warehouses. He was a horrible Demon, not that there are any good ones, but Nox was a particularly bad one. It brings me a great deal of joy to know the High Demon is imprisoned.

“Nox was captured long before I was given the assignment to kill the Covingtons. It was his foolish pride that landed him where he is. Thinking he could fight against a Reaper with Demonic magic and an Angel by himself,” I scoff at the very thought. Gabriel and his merry band of Fae idiots have shown just how dangerous they can be. Two Royal Demons are dead and because of him, Nox stood no chance. “Besides,” I point out, looking around the group of Royal Demons. “Aren’t you using Nox’s Fae child to gain access to the students at Silverwood?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“We are,” Malik bites out, his glare firmly on me as I nod.

“It would seem that Nox is helping out the Demonic realm right where he is. Besides, the Covingtons won’t be a problem much longer. I have several attacks planned and recently found a way to make the councilman come to us. He’s far too protected on Fae territory. That’s why he’s still alive. But he will be here soon,” I inform them and grin, thinking of how I plan to kill the man. “I guarantee it.”

“You better keep to your word, or you will pay the price with your life,” Lucifer rasps, speaking up for the first time as he places a black-clawed hand on his throne and leans forward. His weathered face holds a unique look to it, not Demonic in nature like the rest of them. He looks more similar to me, his features almost human in nature, yet the dark magic circling around him darkens what once was a normal-looking face.

“I will,” I promise, nodding to him as the rest of the princes begin to talk amongst themselves, obviously done with the meeting. I stand, not interested in talking with the old bastards, and start to walk away, needing to get out of this cursed room just as Leviathan wraps his grimy hand around my wrist, pulling me to a stop.

I tense up, my hand moving to the side, red magic swirling around my clawed fingertips just as my scythe forms in my palm. The Demon Prince leans down, hatred clear on his face. “You screw this up, and it will be me who takes that pretty Fae head off your shoulders,” he snarls, his hot, rancid breath filling the air around me and making my stomach twist in disgust.

Silence falls over the room, no one making a move to come to my aid, and I suppress the need to reach out and attempt to rip their souls from their bodies. I still don't know if it would work. They are, after all, Demonic Princes. A normal Reaper wouldn’t possess enough magic to kill a Royal Demon by himself. But I’m not just a Reaper.

Weighing my options, I choose not to destroy all my hard work in a fit of rage despite how I long to do just that. Instead, I yank my hand away from him, arcing my scythe behind me and pressing the blade to his neck, watching with barley controlled glee as the Prince’s eyes double in size. He hadn’t seen my blade until it was already at his throat, and I know it pisses him off that I’ve made such a deadly move in front of the others. I look up at him, hating my shorter half-Fae stature.

“It must kill you to know I’m your equal. That you’ll have to work side-by-side with me in order to keep our territory from crumbling,” I whisper, leaning closer to him, letting my blade press harder into the green skin of his neck. I grin when I see a drop of black blood bead on my scythe. “You can try to kill me, but remember this,” I add as the other Demon Princes all take a step forward, angry eyes on us as I threaten one of their own. “A normal Reaper cannot kill...” I pause for effect. “Or injure a Demon with their scythe.” Stepping back, I bring my scythe down in a fast motion, flicking Leviathan’s blood at his feet.

“Threaten me again, and I will take it as a challenge. One I am more than willing to bring to the fighting rings,” I say calmly, looking away from Leviathan and meeting each and every one of the other’s eyes before turning on my heel and walking from the throne room. It’s time to start putting my plans into motion. I have a Reaper to kill and a Demonic territory to bring to its knees.

TWENTY

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