Page 73 of Witch Queen

“Make sure you come and visit,” he’d mumbled. “Just ask Alicia to open a portal for you.”

“Hey!” the Reaper queen had protested. “What am I, a revolving door to Hell?!”

Ilmon had ignored her. He’d cradled Vlad’s cheeks in his hands and stared into his eyes. “I’m going to miss you, son.”

Vlad had gripped the Incubus king’s fingers, his face tight with emotion. “Me too,” he’d hesitated a beat, “—Father.”

Ilmon’s pupils had rounded, his expression crumpling. He’d started bawling loud enough for the demons in the castle to run out to see what fresh calamity had afflicted their home.

Azazel had pinched the bridge of his nose while Astarte and Armaros had sneered at the Incubus king.

Vlad had grimaced and gently patted his father’s arm. “Now, now, stop that.”

A harsh wheeze had left him when Ilmon locked his arms around him, squeezing hard enough to make his spine pop.

“No! I don’t wanna let you go!” Ilmon had wailed.

“The Wicked Ravisher sure is an ugly crier, huh?” Hellreaver had mumbled.

Astarte had cracked her knuckles and cut her eyes to Armaros. “You grab Ilmon’s arms. I’ll punch his lights out.”

Nikolai’s voice brought Mae back to the present.

“What do you mean?” he yelled at Azazel.

“It’s a condition I placed inside the soul of Davor Lazar! A curse that meant he could never simultaneously wield the ultimate magic granted to me by God!” Azazel frowned. “My ability to wield white magic was limited when I fell to Hell, but I could still teach it to Davor and Ran Soyun. Davor had little aptitude for it, but Ran was a natural.”

Mae shared a startled look with Nikolai. “That’s why Vedran couldn’t absorb your mother’s magic!”

The sorcerer swallowed and nodded.

They gasped when Vozgan banked. The dragon arrowed toward a narrow pass between two peaks and hurtled through the gap with mere feet to spare on either side. He whooped excitedly as he emerged into a dark valley beyond.

Popo released a panicked screech on Cortes’s shoulder as Vozgan swooped in a near-vertical drop.

“Did someone give the damn dragon coffee?!” Cortes yelled, the parrot wrapping his wings around his face.

“Just shut up and hang on to something!” Vlad shouted, his arms locked on a wide-eyed and green-looking Tarang.

“This is why I hate riding hellbeasts,” Alicia grumbled, her scythe humming in the wind while she gripped the saddle with her thighs.

Mae finally asked Azazel the question that had been eating at her to distract herself from the rapidly approaching forest below. “Was Davor’s familiar Brimstone’s father?”

Brimstone stiffened in her hold.

Azazel met her stare steadily over his shoulder. “How did you know?”

Guilt knotted Mae’s belly when she felt the fox’s discomfort across their bond.

“I just had a feeling.” She squeezed the familiar gently. “I’m sorry, Brim. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

The fox sighed.It’s alright, my witch.

A low whine escaped Hellreaver. Azazel studied Brimstone with a sad expression.

“His name was Akarami,” the demon said quietly. “He was a divine beast. And I will forever regret connecting his soul to Davor’s.” He was silent for a while. “There is something else you must know, daughter.”

Apprehension tightened Mae’s shoulders. “What is it?”

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