Page 81 of Of Night and Blood: Special Edition

I watched, thinking of all the horrible things I had ever been called, and knew they were all correct. The bodies that surrounded us were gruesome to view. Warm blood coated the snow, melting it in places and staining the world red. I wondered how many of them I had killed, and how many Bellamy and his Trusted had taken care of.

Noe walked over, eyes wide and hands raised in the air. Each of her steps were slow, calculated. She reminded me of someone approaching a caged beast. Looking down, I realized I still held my sword grasped firmly, knees slightly bent and eyes alight with havoc.

To our left, Bellamy called upon his fire, burning the bodies. I let my sword drop, taking in a deep breath and allowing a gore-soaked Noe to wrap me in her arms. When I felt her hands drag up and down my back, I exhaled the heavy breath and returned the hug.

“I know, Ash. The first time you take a life like that is never easy. I wish I could say that you will forget one day, but you will not. Personally, I can still feel the blood of my first kill dripping down my cheek. We all know that pain, and we are all here to help you,” she reassured.

Part of me thought I should tell her just how many lives I had snuffed out, like a strong breeze blowing over a table of candles. These demons were not the first to have been ended by The Manipulator, nor would they be the last.

Ranbir stood, walking over to Bellamy to speak softly, then heading to Winona and pulling her into a gentle kiss. When they parted, he assessed her, eyes roaming from foot to head. Then he kissed her once more, and I watched as her body quickly healed, how she relaxed into the touch and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Lian was once again unscathed, using a cloth to clean the blood from both of her long swords. Cyprus had barely been hurt, and I watched as his black mist slithered across the bodies before a flick of his hand snuffed it out. Noe released me, turning to face the whisp, who had on a face far more stern than his usual easy smile. Beside him, Henry let his narrow gaze roam over the carnage, blood that did not seem to be his coating his tunic.

Winona made her way to us, hair falling out of her braids. When she was close enough to smell her honey scent, the Sun pulled me into a tight embrace. Just like Noe had.

“You were so brave, love. You saved us all, do not let the weight of this burden overshadow that,” she said against my ear.

I nearly burst into tears, unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that would surface within me. Regardless of what my actions cost my soul, I would have done it again. Anything to stop the image of Bellamy’s head in Xavier’s hands from playing in my mind.

When she too released me, I forced myself to watch the many bodies burn to ash. Forced myself to see what I was at my core. I had liked hurting them, killing them, and I could not bring myself to regret it. So the pain I felt at the sight of it all, it would be mine alone to shoulder.

Across the clouds of smoke, Bellamy stood, covered in more blood than any of us and still burning black fire around his arms. He had his eyes trained at his feet, where O’Malley Harligold lay clutching at his groin, as if he could will the appendage back onto his body.

“Nothing to say? Strange, you seemed to really enjoy the sound of your own voice before,” he said, dripping rage. O’Malley moaned, body tensing at the sound of Bellamy’s voice. When the prince reached down and grabbed at the pirate’s jaw with a flaming hand, ripping it to the side so he could look into his bloody eyes, O’Malley began to sob.

Taking that as my cue, I made my way around the bodies, coming to a stop before the two of them. The pirate flinched when I dug into his mind, seeking out information about the royals and what they wanted. He knew very little, only having met with them once and then portaling back to Eoforhild and seeking out our group. It had taken him two months to find us, and he was running out of time.

I nodded to Bellamy, letting him know I had everything I needed from the demon at our feet. Then an eerily familiar smile formed on his lips, as if he had been holding back his blood lust and this signal was a relief.

“We are on a bit of a time crunch, so I am unable to take my time with this,” Bellamy said. I could not force myself to look away as he lifted his blazing arm and seethed, “Perhaps we can settle this in the Underworld.”

Then his arm swung down, fire ripping through the skin and bone, severing the demon’s head.

Chapter Forty-Five

Bellamy allowed us one day to recuperate. When his fire had burned the bodies to ashes, we packed up and moved camp enough of a distance away for the smell of blood and burnt flesh to fade. Still, I thought the smell might never go away permanently, and it reminded me so much of Sipho that I sobbed all night, not daring to close my eyes.

The sight of the bodies, of the singed hair and my bloodied hands, had me reliving the night of his death over and over again. I could hear my own screams echoing in my head, see the blood from my bare body being thrown against the wall so hard my skull cracked, feel Sipho’s pain and agony being projected into the air, taste the rage on my tongue, and smell the fire burning through the male I loved.

I recalled my shame and how it prevented me from telling anyone what happened, how the grief had left me in bed for weeks. Xavier had visited me, apologized for what he had done, but ultimately blamed it on my own stupidity and recklessness.

Forgiveness had not come swiftly, but I had never outright shown my anger to him. He and Mia were all I had, their love and generosity had gotten me to where I was. Without them, I would probably have been dead. How could I not forgive him after everything he had done for me?

With their love in mind, I never argued or fought, never brought up what happened. When they told me I would not be permitted to visit his grave on Isle Healer, I waited until I was once more in my chambers to cry. When I wrote a letter to his family, Mia had stopped me from sending it, and I had said nothing.

I had been weak.

The following night, and the next, I dreamt of Sipho. I pictured what our lives could have been, the way our younglings might have looked, what sort of home we would have built. And at the end of my dreams, I killed him. Every time. He would die in my arms, begging me to spare him, just as he had that night so long ago. I would shatter him, watch his soul leave this world, and then I would weep upon his body.

On the day we were supposed to begin our final stretch of the trip, Bellamy awoke me from a particularly bloody variation of the nightmare. He had looked into my eyes, his face full of an anguish that likely mirrored my own, and opened his mouth to speak. I quickly shook my head, not needing the reassurance that they had all been trying to give me. I knew what I was, and perhaps it was time I embraced it.

I was the death of all things good, it was what I had always been, what I was meant to be. I had no idea where I would go after I met King Adbeel, or what I would do. Going back home was unlikely, and even I knew that there was no real place for me in Eoforhild, unless I wanted to be used as a weapon and then discarded. So maybe I did not have to grasp at that conscience that I had so desperately clung to as a fae princess. There was no longer a need for it.

Bellamy handed me the satchel of my clothes, staring at me for another moment before exiting the tent. Noe was already awake, her eyes trained on me just as her prince’s had been. She was worried, I could feel it tainting the air.

Noe had weak mental walls, and it was all too easy to see the images she remembered of me taking my dagger to O’Malley, of the way I murdered with ruthless efficiency. Her excitement, her sense of rightness at my actions, jarred me. She was not scared of me. No, she respected and agreed with my choices on that battlefield.

That was far worse.

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