Page 21 of Stolen By the Demon

What? I recoiled. “No.”

For the first time, the stranger looked at me. His cold gaze swept over me from head to toe, and a sneer lifted the edges of his lips, much thinner than Devon’s.

“That is her?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“She is pretty enough to find his favor. Very well, then. I will inform my father that she will be ready for him. Only because I’m curious to see how you think you’re going to pull this off. But I’m warning you. Not many people are being given a second chance to prove themselves. It’s nearly unheard of.”

Sir Jonathan bowed deeply to the prince of the underworld. “I understand. I will not disappoint you.”

“Not so fast!” a familiar voice bellowed.

“Devon!” I cried, moving forward, but Sir Roger’s hands held me back.

“Ah, my wayward brother. The one who thought he could outdo me. Do you have any idea what you have done?” the prince of darkness greeted Devon as he entered.

Devon wavered only a moment. His eyes were glued to mine to assure himself I was all right before he answered the other man.

“I did outdo you,” he said with pride, “Adramalech.”

So this was his brother. The one who was supposed to take me to the Brocken.

“You still don’t get it, little brother, do you? You didn’t simply outdo me. You crossed our father. You destroyed plans he worked on for four hundred and thirty years. And not only that, events took place, events you have no idea about, that make her”—he pointed his finger at me—“invaluable.”

Devon’s worried gaze met mine and sent chills down my spine. If my arrogant demon was worried…

“Seize him!” Adramalech suddenly screamed, and from the darkness of the hidden tunnel stormed an army of vile creatures you would only expect to see in hell.

“Take her away,” my father yelled at Sir Roger, who pulled me down a hallway.

“No!” I screamed, kicking and flailing.

“Blanche!” Devon screamed my name.

“Devon!” I screamed back as Sir Roger mercilessly pulled me forward.

I released Blanche from the mental hold I had on her. She looked exhausted, spent. Her eyes were wide and turning red. She needed nourishment, but right then, my mind spun with what she had told me.

“So you are the daughter of the last fae and druid,” I concluded, staring at her. I had always known something was special about her. I just hadn’t known what. Now that I did, I wondered how I could have possibly missed the fae grace she exuded. The will of the druids. Now, I understood why she was so valuable to my father. A broodmare. The only kind of female who could give my father more precious sons like Adramelech and me. Fae were the only females who could carry his sons, but they were too good, their genes too strong to give birth to the type of personality my father preferred. That was where the druids came in. Fae blood mixed with that of a druid made up the perfect chalice to receive Satan’s seed.

After Saint Walpurga’s cleansing of druids, faes, and witches in AD 735—a feat that earned her sainthood—their numbers had been critically decimated. So much so that this year’s Magnus Eventus Walpurgisnacht would not have a fae and druid to consummate the union my father so eagerly anticipated. She is the last. Jonathan’s words came back to me. Blanche was the last of her kind. Her mother and her father had been the last of the faes and druids.

Now, I understood my father’s outrage and why my interference had brought such wrath upon me. How many times before that had Adramalech and I vied for his attention and done deeds that went against my father’s will?

“I don’t understand any of this,” Blanche said quietly, bringing me out of my reveries.

“The first of May has always been celebrated as the beginning of fertility each year. It was also the only time of the year my father was allowed to visit Earth. The only night to cause as much mayhem as he saw fit and the only time to father a child. April thirtieth at midnight used to be when the portals opened, and all creatures of hell roamed Earth. It was also the time when couples liked to get married and have sex because it’s said to be the most fertile night of the year.

“For thousands of years, the fae and the druids would find the two strongest members of their species to create a child that would be given to Satan to produce another son for him. It was their highest honor to serve their lord and master.

“It is also the night Saint Walpurga set out to fight all evil. Whatever she used, whatever she did, she drove my father back to hell, and he was only allowed to visit every four hundred and thirty years for the Magnus Eventus Walpurgisnacht.”

I stared at Blanche. “It so happens that 1595 was such a year.”

“The year I was supposed to mate with the devil,” she said, her eyes glowing redder.

“Yes. You and him were supposed to mate and you were supposed to give him one more demon prince.” The thought alone was enough to raise my fury. I swore that he would never lay a hand on her. Never.

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