Page 83 of Death God

The dark mages rushed toward me to claim their main prize. The warriors around me fought to push back the waves of soldiers bearing down on them, one after another.

I brought my palm to my lips and blew my spell toward the ward. The wind carried my spell along the ward, and my death power unmade all the black spells that had chained tens of thousands of spirits for two centuries.

No one could comprehend death as clearly as I. It wasn’t the living but the dead who possessed Earth. The living were but temporary passengers, but death was forever.

You wanted to talk about numbers? Count the dead. They were more than the stars in the sky and the sand on Earth.

The dark mages were the first to feel the shift in the air, the atmosphere thickening like an impending storm, and stepped back collectively in horror. They were sensitive, I had to give them that.

“What have you done, abomination?” a high-ranking dark mage in a purple rope shouted at me.

“Raised an army of the dead, douchebag,” I shouted back while grinning. “I might be a beginner, but I’m damn good at it!”

I threw my hands up for dramatic effect.

“Feed and get your revenge!” I roared at the dead, giving them the permission only the Mistress of Death could. “But you won’t touch my allies!”

The army of the dead swarmed forward like a terrible storm, tearing into War’s army. I’d also awoken all the dormant spirits in the entire castle and sent them after the enemy soldiers. The more, the merrier.

The enemies screamed as the dead attacked them like endless locusts eating through thick grass. At some point, I wrinkled my nose, since it wasn’t a pretty sight, but war was never pretty.

The horseman of war had started it, but I was going to end it in my favor.

The enemy soldiers jabbed their blades frantically and fired their weapons in all directions, unable to see the spirits even when the dead laughed in their faces. Horror and confusion was written all over their faces as they watched their life force being drained but couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

I’d given them a chance to live, but they’d spat in my face.

War’s vast army consisted of humans, shifters, mages, and other supernaturals. They all rallied around him, not caring what he’d done to their fellow species and what harm he would continue to cause. They prided themselves on being the horseman’s elite army and preyed on the weak. They dreamed, along with their master, of dominating Earth and enslaving all others.

But today, I was shattering their dreams.

I clasped my hands while jumping up and down. “Go get them, tigers!” I pointed a finger at a far corner of the battlefield that the spirits hadn’t visited. “There! Feed on those black witches as they once fed upon you! Go, tigers!”

Fairy dropped down beside me and folded her wings. She’d come to guard me since the army of the dead had taken care of Lucian’s vamps.

“You’re so weird, Queen Pip Ophelia,” she said. “You frustrate our enemies no end.”

Mouse was suddenly at my side too and handed me a steaming coffee in a paper Starbucks cup! I didn’t even know how he did it, but he was hired for life.

“Who’s to complain?” I took a sip of the delicious coffee and grinned at the vampires, mostly at Mouse.

The butler nodded. “When the dark angel forced our queen to leave with him, I bet he never expected this since he didn’t know our queen’s specialty is to bring chaos wherever she goes.”

A group of dark mages and witches turned to flee, and my court of spirits pursued them. The group had tortured and killed many of them, so now the spirits wanted to toy with them before doing serious damage. And the link to the new Death—me—gave them certain power.

While the battlefield no longer needed my supervision, I traced my mate’s moves.

Marlowe hacked at Spartoi with his twin swords, and the horseman countered viciously with his powerful spear. They whirled through the air, lunging, evading, sliding to the side, their weapons clashing again and again.

They were both excellent swordsmen and equally matched. They slammed into each other and spun away again, their every move precise and lethal, leaving no room for error. They fought silently instead of snarling and growling and cursing, unlike the shifters, as they completely focused on each other.

“Hey, Spartoi, you sour cunt!” I shouted. “I brought down your fucking ward and unleashed my army of the dead on your horde. Take a fucking look! Your army is fleeing. Who can beat the dead?” I let out a high-pitched giggle to annoy and distract him. “Who’s the bitch now? You are! Yes, you are!”

He knew that I’d raised the dead and heard the dead shrieking while they fed on his army.

His face stony and full of hate, the horseman clashed his spear into the broad blade Marlowe swung at him. Lightning fast, he fended off Marlowe’s second blade with his armguard. But a muscle twitched under his left eye. I did get under his skin.

He couldn’t stand me, as he’d confessed. So to make things worse for him, I dashed toward him. His purple gaze flickered toward me for a nanosecond, ready to counter my assault. The malice in his eyes spelled that he really wanted to hurt me.

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