Page 27 of The Alpha's Betrayed Mate

And Belmont roared a wordless challenge as he plunged his blade straight into the demon’s awful mockery of a face.

Chapter 16 - Venna

As if her betrayal hadn’t been painful enough, it was Syrra who escorted Venna to her prison cell once they’d reached the library. The wolves who’d brought her scattered quickly, which was a relief at least—the more people out there looking for Rylan, the better. But she was still seething at Belmont’s refusal to let her help. What exactly was it going to take to prove herself worthy of trust, she wondered? And just as quickly, she realized it was the wrong question. It didn’t matter what she did. Until Belmont decided in his own heart that he trusted her, none of her actions would ever be free of suspicion. When you looked hard enough for signs of treachery, you’d always find them. There was a curious freedom in realizing that, in releasing the responsibility for Belmont’s opinion of her that she’d been dragging around for months.

“This is impressive work,” Syrra said, pulling her attention back to the stuffy little room she’d been put in. At least it wasn’t the basement this time—it was a ground floor room with a broken window, the panes of glass replaced by cardboard that had been set neatly into the frame. Great. She was a prisoner, and she didn’t even have a window she could look through. Syrra’s hands were warm against her wrists as she examined the rope that bound her. “Was this Raske?”

“One of his specialties,” she muttered, trying to ignore the unpleasant jelly-like feeling in the muscles of her arms. “He used to booby trap things he thought the kids might steal. You’d go to pick up a sword, next minute it was morning and you’d been fast asleep on the floor all night.” At least the rope let her stay conscious.

“Well, I’d better have a closer look,” Syrra said briskly, pulling the rope free. Venna staggered a little as the feeling rushed back into her arms. “I’ll have to learn how to replicate the spell, if I’m to keep you prisoner effectively.”

“Syrra, I’m not—that’s really not necessary.” Was she really going to treat her like some kind of violent monster? She’d never felt the need to use magic to keep her here before.

“Oh, but it is.” There was something strange about the lorekeeper’s voice that stopped Venna from snapping back at her in hurt recrimination. “I’ll be back to tie you up again, once I’ve studied this closely.” Venna shot Syrra a sharp look, but the woman seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Stuffy in here,” she remarked, seemingly to herself, as she pulled a bundle of keys from her belt and crossed to the window. With the window open a crack, Venna could hear the distant sounds of voices shouting Rylan’s name. “I hope they find him quickly,” Syrra said, tucking the bundle of rope under her arm as she returned to the little room’s door. “I know I’d do anything to bring my children home safe.”

Venna heard Syrra humming on the other side of the door, then a series of metallic sounds as she locked and barred the door from the outside. But she was already at the window, grinning as it swung easily open, wide enough for her to scramble out with ease. She landed softly in the grass then straightened, listening sharply for the sounds of the search parties. They seemed to be focused in the trees to the north. Well, good. The more of them were wasting their time up there, the fewer there’d be to stop her from getting to where Rylan actually was.

But for once, her haste got the better of her. She was almost at the beach, running past the edge of the settlement towards the path that led down to the ocean, when she heard a voice raised in anger behind her. She didn’t have to turn to recognize Yara—and she knew immediately that she didn’t have a second to spare. Yara had always been one of the fastest wolves in the pack, and Venna would need every second at her disposal if she didn’t want her old friend to slow her down. She thundered down the path, sand flying as her paws carried her towards the beach. Behind her, she could hear Yara howling a rallying cry to the pack, and she gritted her teeth. She’d hoped to bring Rylan home without anyone realizing she’d escaped, but that was out of the question now. But so what? Why not add yet another crime to her pile? At least this way she’d have backup from her pursuers in case the demon got the better of her. She’d kill it if she could, but if she couldn’t, she’d make sure they could finish the job with ease.

She tore down the dock at her top speed, barely slowly when she leapt from the end and landed with a splash in the dark, choppy water. Night had fallen now, and it was almost too dark to see as she scrambled ashore on the little island closest to Kurivon, breathing hard as she shifted back. Already, she could feel the acrid tang of demonic taint in the air—and there was something to that magical signature that was horribly familiar. How many times had she come up against this particular demon, she wondered? Usually it was its smaller minions she battled, but sometimes the great beast itself would come to try to wipe her out. A few dozen such confrontations has occurred, at least—and more still, accounting for the times she’d fought it without realizing it was the same creature. In those eight years of solitude, it was bizarrely enough the closest thing she’d had to a companion out there. And she could smell it now. She scrambled down the sinkhole, vegetation breaking and snapping around her as she half-slid down the steep slope towards what she knew was waiting for her at the bottom.

There stood the demon, her oldest enemy. She’d recognized it on the beach, of course she had. She’d recognized the viscous venom that dripped from its claws. To be avoided at all cost, she’d learned that the hard way long ago. And so, now, had Rylan. The demon had overdone it on the beach—too much venom, and the victim simply fell asleep. Just enough, and they dropped into a strange, agreeable, trance-like state. It had only happened to her a few times, before she’d shifted her focus to avoiding the poison when she and the demon clashed. She had only dream-like recollections of the times the beast’s talons had caught her—battling through a growing haze of sleepy delirium, only barely scrambling away to safety, half convinced that the creature was mocking her in her own language, in a voice that sounded like distant thunder, or the dull impact of stone on heavy stone…

There it was. Venna felt the familiar adrenaline charge through her, the grim knowledge that the battle she was about to enter might just be her last. For a moment, it was just like being back in Halforst, alone in the woods, squaring off against her old enemy. But then she saw Rylan, hunkered against the back wall of the cave at the base of the sinkhole, his face a mask of terror as he stared up at the demon. And when she followed his gaze, it was easy to see what had frightened him so badly. Because wrapped in the demon’s horrible arms was the body of a wolf, thrashing and snarling, jaws clamping down again and again on whatever part of the beast they could reach. It was Belmont. Of course it was Belmont. She’d know that russet coat anywhere, that distinctive family trait he’d always worn with such quiet pride… and a low, cold fury exploded in her belly when she saw that that coat was streaked and matted with blood.

He’d done his fair share of damage to the demon, too. She could see its thick, black hide was oozing blood in a dozen places. One of its eyes had been gouged clean out of its face, leaving only bubbling black ooze in its place, and it was holding one arm protectively close to its side, a deep tear halfway down showing that the limb had almost been wrenched clean off its body. But Belmont had encountered the same problem that Venna had, every time she’d faced off against the beast. A well-trained demon hunter ought to be capable of killing even a demon of this size without a pack at her side—in her early years, Venna had planned to do just that. But to do so would be a slow, grueling process, a war of attrition. And this demon’s venom made that an impossible prospect. Even as she watched, she could see that Belmont’s movements were growing sluggish, that he was fighting furiously against the effects of the ooze from the demon’s iridescent talons. You simply couldn’t wear the demon down fast enough to kill it before the venom disabled you completely. And so she’d had to settle for crippling it whenever she could, buying her pack a few weeks of peace while it dedicated its energies to healing its body instead of sending its minions out to attack their village.

But this was different, wasn’t it? She’d always been able to run away once the tide of the battle was turning, lose herself in the forest until the beast gave up on pursuing her. That wasn’t an option for Belmont, not with his son in the demon’s clutches. For Belmont, this was a win or die situation. And winning wasn’t looking likely. The beast had wrapped its horrible fingers around his body and she could see the twisting force it was exerting on him, slowly but surely attempting to tear him apart.

Venna sprang, a howl of pure rage ripping itself free of her throat as she did. The sound brought the demon’s ruined head whipping around, distracting it from Belmont and causing its vice grip around his ribs to loosen. She heard Rylan cry out in shock and delight as she struck the demon paws-first, fastening her jaws around the nearest piece of flesh and ripping as deep a hole as she could manage. In all their years of battle, she’d never quite figured out if the demon felt pain, but there was a frenetic quality to the way it hurled her aside that told her it knew exactly who she was. She’d distracted it long enough for Belmont to get free, but her triumph turned to panic when she saw him land heavily on the floor of the sinkhole, legs giving out beneath him as fresh blood spilled across the sandy rock floor.

And then she heard it. The demon’s familiar low rumble changed, the frequency adjusted somehow, as if the creature’s innards were twisting to rearrange the sound. And even over the thudding of her heart, her sharp ears picked out the unmistakable sound of words—warped and distorted, but clear.

“Enemy.” It repeated it several times, as if making sure she heard it. “Enemy, enemy, enemy. Here to hurt again. Too late. I will feast. First him, then you, then the child. Hear me, enemy-Venna. I will eat his heart again.”

Again, she thought faintly. Unbidden, she saw the faces of her brothers in her mind’s eye. She’d always wondered if it had been this demon or one of its minions that had claimed the lives of her brothers, all those years ago. She remembered stumbling through the trees, panicking, knowing that it was coming for her, that it could taste the sadness and despair in her heart—she remembered how desperate she’d been to put as much distance between herself and her baby brother as she could. That was the only way to protect them, she’d thought. She’d have gladly given her own life if it had meant taking the demon out too. And now, looking into the creatures’ one remaining eye, she wondered if there was a way. Could she lure it up to the surface, perhaps? Draw it with her out to sea, where they could both drown and leave Kurivon in peace? She’d die happy, knowing that she’d finally set them free.

“Take me instead.”

She caught her balance on her two legs as the shift moved through her. The demon’s body language remained unreadable, but that glistening red eye certainly hadn’t left her, and she couldn’t help but imagine a kind of curiosity in the way it leaned its head closer to her. She could see Belmot struggling to get to his feet, his paws slipping weakly in his own blood, hear Rylan sobbing for his father to get up. But the demon was listening.

“I offer you a deal,” she said, raising her voice now. “Take me. Eat my heart, eat my sadness—do whatever it is you did to my brothers. I’ll go willingly, and I’ll do you no further injury. But you have to let them go.” She couldn’t stop her voice shaking. “Let them go back to the island.”

“Deal, deal, deal,” the demon repeated in its strange, throaty voice, but she couldn’t tell if it was agreeing to her terms or simply tasting the word. “You deal—with me.” Was it a question? An agreement?

“You understand my language. You must understand what I’m offering you.”

“Offer offer offer.” Its body swayed back and forth. “Offer the ocean. Offer the storm.” One curved talon was reaching out, slow and delicate, towards the struggling form of Belmont, who growled a warning and snapped at it weakly.

“If you touch him I’ll kill you.”

“Threaten,” the demon intoned, a splintering, high resonance touching its words that set her teeth on edge. “Threaten me. Threaten the ocean. Threaten the storm. Enemy, enemy, enemy.” It drew back from Belmont and turned to her, and though every cell in her body was screaming at her to strike, she held herself still. She had to show it she was serious about the trade, about sacrificing herself to spare her family.

“These are the people I love,” she said, willing the beast to understand. “If you spare them, I am no longer a threat to you.” This close, she could smell the acrid reek of its flesh, hear its thick blood sizzling as it rolled down its fearsome body. After all the accusations Raske and the pack had hurled her way, there was an amusing kind of irony in the idea that her last act might actually be to strike a deal with this demon.

“You understand nothing.” The beast’s voice was slower, clearer, as if it was working hard to ensure that this, its most important point, was clearly understood. “You—are—a—raindrop.”

Its blow was faster than she’d thought possible. Belmont’s despairing howl echoed from the back wall of the sinkhole as Venna was thrown hard against it, the impact driving breath from her body and thought from her mind. She must have blacked out for a moment, because when she opened her eyes, she was slumped against the wall of the sinkhole with the demon crouched over her, its great red eye inches from her face. This was it, she realized, coughing weakly and feeling blood run down her chin. She’d always wondered exactly how it was she was going to die, and now she knew. She just wished Rylan wasn’t here to see it. Bad enough to have lost his mother without seeing his aunt go the same way.

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