Page 20 of Demons Treasure Warlocks

“I do! I’m just worried. So much is happening, and I don’t know anything. You haven’t said what you plan on doing, and it’s scaring me. Just explain it to me, please?”

“I will tell you tonight or tomorrow. I promise. Once I’m done at the park and have chatted with some friends, you and I will sit down with Adam and Trey. I’ll share everything.” Darius pressed his forehead against Isaac’s in a show of affection.

“Dammit. I’m going to hold you to it.”

Isaac was right when he said there was an almost melancholic feeling hanging over the park. Pedestrians skirted around the paths and kept their heads turned away from the dying trees. What once was a thriving area was decayed and abandoned. Even the snow blanketing the ground was duller than the fallen snow on the other side of the river. Darius took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this sense of emptiness wasn’t it.

Darius wasn’t anywhere near ground zero—where the pulsating orb was captured and locked tight—and he was happy to stay mostly away from there. He didn’t know if he had the balls to see it. The mass was writhing anger, and it would do anything necessary to free itself. Adam had mentioned he thought he saw a living being inside the ball, and Darius didn’t doubt him. The dimensional doorway required a gatekeeper, and technically, Darius was supposed to be that for Hastur. But with luck and skill, Darius had escaped that fate. He wished there was a way to remove all the portals so no one would be stuck in that empty space, suffering alone. Maybe when he defeated Hastur, he could give these creatures peace. They deserved it.

Despite Darius’s desire to stay away, the paths he followed led him through the dying trees to the spot where chaos had reigned. A cast-iron fence surrounded the pulsating orb, and thick wards blocked anyone with magical access from crossing the physical barrier. Darius wasn’t sure who would want to approach such a violent thing.

“Darius?” Bale… what a shock. No matter what, Bale was there to protect Darius from his own actions. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking. Investigating.” Darius spoke the truth. There was no point in hiding anything from Bale. He’d find out anyway. “I want to see what Hastur’s planned.”

“You can’t say his name like that! You know that,” Bale chastised. He bumped Darius’s arm as they stood side by side. “Seriously, Dare. We don’t want him here.”

Darius lifted one shoulder in apology. He might have done it on purpose, to see what had happened to him. Hastur had been licking his wounds for too long, and that wasn’t a good sign. “Aren’t you concerned that he’s still out there and we don’t have any idea what his next steps are? We don’t even have a hint. I know he’s not dead. I have to have confirmation for this ache in my chest.”

“Adam sent him packing. He’s somewhere else, but if you speak it once more, he’ll gather his strength and find his way back.”

Darius scowled. Bale’s comments sounded as though Darius didn’t know better or understand the danger involved. Darius did though. Hastur’s threats were ingrained deep in Darius. “He’s not in the downtown core. I don’t have that feeling of miasma hanging over me. Anyway, let me do this and then we’re done.”

“I’m staying.” Bale walked over to the river’s edge and leaned on the guardrail. “Watching you work is a pleasure.”

“I’m not actually doing anything. I’m taking a walk.” Darius suited actions to words and continued on down the path. The trees were so worn and sad. Adam had been trying to save them, but between Hastur’s handiwork and the orb’s poisonous nature, the trees had no chance. Darius wondered how deep the sickness went and if it was continuing to creep outward.

“You’re investigating,” Bale said as he trailed behind. “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know. Stuff?” His concentration shot by Bale’s incessant need to speak, Darius was about to give up. He wandered back and paused by the trapped orb. It pulsated rapidly, and Darius had to do something positive for it. No one deserved this sort of cage. Darius sensed Bale opening his mouth to reprimand him, and he whipped around and raised one finger.

Bale immediately closed his mouth and froze in place. His wings fluttered restlessly, but they weren’t Darius’s to soothe.

A tendril of magic reached out and caressed Darius, sparking the shame that lived deep within him. Darius swallowed hard and returned the touch with his own damaged powers as best he could. His deepest fears swamped him as the two vastly different energies tangled up with each other, fighting for dominance. It sparked purple lightning across Darius’ psyche, warning him that he was too weak for even this threat. Darius braced himself against Bale’s commentary. It had been a stupid move on his part. He wanted to see what the orb would do and how he would be able to respond. And he failed.

“Darius?”

“Let’s go. I want to go home now.” Darius staggered away from the lurking power and toward the library. If he could make it to the old building, he’d be fine. “Town annoys me. Why the fuck did I bother?”

“Because something spoke to you, reminded you of a debt yet unpaid. Hello, Darius, my beauty. It’s been a while.” Elijah rolled away from the edge of a building and stopped in front of Bale and Darius. He looked like utter shit. Elijah’s skin sagged in some spots while stretched tight across his cheeks and forehead. His eyes were full of nothingness and the abyss, resonating with the poison that settled within Darius.

“There you are. I had wondered when we’d see you again,” Darius greeted Elijah. Not hiding at all and hanging around the portal was a risky decision, and things were likely to go to shit if he continued down this path, but Darius was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You seem kinda sick, Elijah. You got a bug or something?”

“I could say the same for you, Darius. Your waifish good looks have shifted to something similar to consumption. Have you been reading nineteenth century poetry again? That’s pretty dangerous for someone like you, isn’t it?” Elijah shot back. Darius almost smirked. The real Elijah was hiding under the heavy possession of Hastur. Too bad it was unlikely Elijah would ever be the same. His eyes rolled back in his head as his master reasserted himself.

The air stilled around them as Hastur studied Darius and Bale with insolent dislike. “You gave up your coin, mercenary. You should have returned to our realm and waited along with your brethren.”

Bale shifted his stance, so he blocked Darius from Hastur’s view. “I told you not to say his name.”

“Hastur. What is the point of all this rigmarole? What do you hope to gain?” Darius ignored Bale’s quiet diatribe as he slid in front of Bale. He focused on the monster in front of him. The questions he asked were ones that had bothered Darius since he first encountered Hastur.

“I want a home. It’s what I’ve always desired. A place to call my own. And you’ve denied me my dreams at every turn. It’s not fair, is it?” Hastur reached out with a bony finger and caressed Darius’s cheek. The iciness threatened to undo Darius’s bravado. It was his strength of will and sheer determination to win against Hastur’s touch that kept him upright.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re trying to impose your own rule on my people. We like our autonomy. We don’t need an overlord like you. Especially one who’s determined to hurt others for his own gain,” Darius snapped back.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But Mayor Elijah is quite popular, and people are clamouring for his return. They believe his decisions regarding the town’s future are spot-on.” Hastur’s empty gaze shifted to Elijah’s friendly visage briefly. “Gosh, the public spaces should be safe for everyone, and growth is so important. The humans are eager to become friends with their cryptid counterparts. And the demons would only thrive within the freshness that’s so abundant.”

Darius held his ground as Hastur’s sickly sweet magic circled around him. His own magic yearned to bond and connect with the dark power, causing him fight to maintain control. Sweat beaded on his forehead even as the temperature dropped wretchedly fast.

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