Page 25 of The Demon's Due
Around them, one by one, the others followed. A fearsome army kneeling, laying down their weapons, foreheads pressed to the earth.
Síofra’s heart pounded as the silence stretched. Ashmedai’s expression flickered-smug triumph, yes, but something else too. Longing.
And then-blackness again.
She woke up gasping in the cave, the scent of smoke and cedar surrounding her. Crimson dust coated her skin in a thin layer, clinging as though she’d been lying in that other place for centuries.
Morgan pushed himself upright, shaking his head. “What the hell just happened?”
Síofra sat up slowly, wiping grit from her cheek. Her lips parted with the truth she could no longer deny. “What’s happening to me?”
Ashmedai uncoiled from Morgan’s body in a ripple of smoke and ember, his form only half-manifested-horns glowing faintly, claws curled against the stone wall. “That,” he said, voice like stone grinding, “was my domain.”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Síofra whispered. She hugged herself, chilled now that the heat of dessert had ebbed. Shivering, she snatched Morgan’s T-shirt from where it lay discarded and pulled it over her head, the fabric hanging loose against her thighs. Then she picked up her panties and self consciously pulled them on. She was unnervingly aware of two pairs of eyes following her every move and had a feelingthey knew her panties had soaked through from their combined essence.
Ashmedai’s gaze tracked her with unnerving stillness, possessive golden eyes unblinking until she shifted nervously under their weight. At last, his attention dropped, fixing on the ring that still glimmered faintly on her finger.
“Do you know what that is?”
She followed his gaze. “It’s my mother’s ring. It was the only thing she left me when she…passed.”
“No,” Ashmedai rumbled, the word final. “That was the ring that the lunatic human king used to bind me. To imprison me in that infernal tomb. But I was not without friends. Just before they entombed me alive, one of my… associates ensured a caveat was placed upon it.”
Her breath caught. “A caveat?”
Ashmedai’s smile was slow, edged with something almost mournful. “That the ring would find its way to my One who could lead me back, once the conditions aligned. In other words…” His eyes flared brighter. “…your supposed parents -whoever they are-have been lying to you.”
Silence pressed down, broken only by the drip of water somewhere deeper in the cavern.
“What do you know of your origins, flame-haired one?”
What did she know? She thought of the story she had told herself a thousand times - daughter of Edward Peters, the so-called grocery king, whose polished family had never acknowledged her. How could they, they didn't even know about her. Marina, her mother, lost to grief and drugs. A father who was in a hurry to pack her off to an all-girls boarding school once he knew of his name on her birth certificate.A mother who chose oblivion from an overdose when she was eleven. A girl who never belonged. A daughter who was unwanted and unseen.When she had questioned her father about his choice of a university fullof terrifying creatures who could end her with a look, he had fidgetted and muttered something about her being ungrateful.
But hearing Ashmedai say it -parents, whoever they are- felt like a piece of a puzzle clicking in place. Haltingly, she stumbled through her story while not meeting his eyes.
She raised her chin, though her voice was unsteady. “I never understood why they didn’t want me.”
Ashmedai tilted his head, his molten stare alive with anger and something like sympathy. “No. You knew the lies. Now you will learn the truth.”
Ashmedai’s form loomed larger, smoke curling like living things from his shoulders as he settled in front of her dragging Morgan along in his wake. “To know who you truly are,” he said, voice solemn, “I need a little of your blood. The amount I consumed so far just gave me glimpses of your past,”
Morgan surged upright. “The hell you do-”
A black tentacle whipped from Ashmedai’s shadow, snapping tight across Morgan’s mouth. His words strangled to a muffled growl.
“Quiet,mortal,” Ashmedai said coldly. “And let the adults speak.”
Síofra’s pulse hammered in her ears. But she swallowed, lifted her hand, and offered a finger.
Ashmedai’s clawed hand closed around hers, huge and unexpectedly careful, drawing her closer. His lips parted revealing a saw-toothed grin glinting faintly in the firelight.
She winced as he leaned down and nipped, delicate but sharp enough to break the skin. A bead of blood welled. He drew it in with a slow, deliberate sip, his golden eyes fixed on hers the entire time.Then , he pulled her onto his lap and started untangling her hair with his claws.
Morgan groaned in the prison of his own mind.Why is this giving me a boner?
Ashmedai’s forked tongue traced her finger, a sensuous sweep that closed the wound. He didn’t release her hand. His lips parted, his head tipping back. His grey-black tongue flicked out, licking across his lips as if drunk on her taste.
“Aaah…” His sigh reverberated low, almost reverent. “There is a touch of human here. But yes-your mother… she is the holder of keys. Hecate.A goddess.”
