Page 2 of Wicked Savior
Warily, I eye the cloud, wondering how to disperse it, when it suddenly moves again.
The power, seemingly sentient in nature, slithers along the surface of the walls and ceiling, sliding into every crack and crevice as it actively searches for a way out. When it finds nothing, it shoves away from the walls and heads toward the back of the hall. Along the way, the shimmering cloud briefly touches the denizens of Hell, and they moan with pleasure from the extra boost of power.
Suddenly, the double doors at the back of the hall fly open, and the power shoots into the Underworld.
Fuck me.
Thunderous, I look down at the torque and immediately manufacture a glove to shield myself from it.
An amplifier with the ability to increase any power, no matter how great.
Who could create such a weapon?
Equal parts pissed off and intrigued, I bring it closer to examine the markings I noticed earlier. They’re definitely not scratches. I inhale sharply. There’s a spell engraved between the lines of the spiral, but that’s not the most interesting part. The words are written in a language, called Viridian, that was spoken before the Great Flood, but lost to history when everyone perished.
The only ones who speak it now are the ones who spoke it then—the angels and other ancients like us. Viridian was the first language we learned. Its true origin is unknown, but the complex language was often used to create powerful spells.
Yet here it is on a human piece created in tenth century BCE. I rub the tip of my glove across the words. It’s been so long since I’ve seen or spoken the language. Not sincethatday. I shake my head and push the thought away before reading the words.
I frown. The spell doesn’t make sense. It calls for the blood to rise up, not magic.
Focusing on the two lords in front of me, I note the fear on their faces.
They should be afraid. The fallout from power of that magnitude on the loose in the Underworld will be catastrophic if I don’t find it quickly. It pisses me off that they brought such a volatile artifact into my palace without warning.
My wrath wraps around them, squeezing tightly, and I lean forward. “My patience left the palace along with my power.” My words drop softly into the quiet room. I raise a hand when one of the demons starts to speak. “I’ll ask the questions. You’ll give me succinct answers. If you state anything but the facts, I’ll eliminate you and keep the object for myself. Got it?”
Swallowing hard, they both nod.
I loosen the invisible hold on them. “Where did you get it?”
The Lord of Gluttony steps forward. “The Duke of Malevolentia’s estate sale. It was in a trunk.”
The court inhales a collective breath at the name. Level one demons rarely perish, especially dukes, but treason will not be tolerated.
Disbelief rings in my voice. “You bought a trunk from the estate sale, and it contained this artifact?” What are the fucking odds?
Lord Invidia, aka Envy, raises a shaking finger. “We bought the entire estate, your Majesty.”
The court erupts into whispers while I silently whistle at the fortune they must have dropped to procure Malevolentia’s estate.
The duke had been around since the beginning of time. Literally. Who knows what the wily bastard had in his possession? Something I should have foreseen when I ended his existence. An oversight that requires immediate correction.
With a single raised finger, the general behind me, steps forward, listens to my orders, then dips his chin and disappears to carry them out.
Ahem. “Given the nature of your purchase, I want a complete inventory list in my hand tomorrow. Understood?” The flinch in response to my order immediately confirms the treasures they’ve already discovered must also be of significant importance. Wealth means nothing to them. Power is the only commerce of value.
This is a bigger problem than I expected.
Cormal, the uncrowned king of the criminal underworld—or knowing his ambition, the king of criminals everywhere—appears with the general on my left. The crowd shuffles uneasily when they see the dark-haired man. Fear typically reserved for only the top of the food chain flashes across their faces. It’s warranted. The power he’s amassed is impressive and terrifying… and none of it was his in the beginning. He accumulated it from ancient and unnatural sources, and let’s just say his methods were unconventional.
I smile. He’s perfect for this task. Not only does he have the power to retain possession of the object, but he runs Underworld’s black market. It will be easy for him to broker deals for the use of the torque.
The general bows, then disappears to follow my other order.
Cormal quickly assesses the situation in front of him. When his eyes spot the object, they flicker, not with greed, but knowledge and a glimmer of emotion.
Interesting.
