Devil's Punch

“Brilliant.” Greydusk saw the plan in its entirety, I had no doubt.

In essence, it was simple enough. If the dog could follow the trail, it should lead us to the route that mages had used to escape my wrath. If we found their hiding place along the way, even better. It could end here and now. If not, we left the collapsing Saremon compound and went straight to the palace, where I could issue my first proclamation, hire staff, begin renovations, and organize a proper funeral.

That list daunted even a demon queen—but that had to be weariness and grief talking. I had been born for this role. I had lain dormant in the human’s blood, in her soul, waiting for my moment. Once I set my affairs in order, the pleasure in this would return. I didn’t permit any doubts to take root.

Instead I took action, ransacking the lab for some cast-off piece of clothing. My efforts bore fruit when I slammed open a drawer and found a dirty handkerchief. It was damp with some unidentifiable fluid and I found some pincers to pick it up, then I knelt and offered it to the dog for his perusal. He sniffed and then sneezed. Whined a little too. I couldn’t blame him; it was fiercely revolting.

“Is that strong enough?” Chance asked.

The dog’s look said, Hell, yes. Any stronger and I would die.

I swept my arm out before me in an inviting gesture. “Lead on. We’re right behind you.”

The little dog pranced. Part of me found it adorable; the rest of me wondered how it was possible the creature hadn’t been eaten. Butch lowered his small head, tail up and twitching with excitement. He sniffed around outside the door and then settled confidently on a path that led back the way we’d come, only at the first opportunity, he hung a left. We’d explored this part of the lab complex, but I hadn’t been looking for an exit then. I’d only been thinking of my dad. Later I would replay those moments with him. My heart hurt; it was a caution against love and its shocking weakening, but I did not deny those feelings. Even pain would make me stronger in the end.

The dog led us straight to a hidden passage. This place was probably riddled with them. When I knelt beside him, a breeze swept out from beneath the stone. I felt around for the catch and then a section of wall slid behind the rest.

Though I half wanted resistance, I encountered none. The mages had gone to ground and would strike next from a fortified position. They were smart enough not to want to face me in a dark tunnel with little preparation time. The strongest rituals took time to set in place. That was why I hadn’t dealt instant death in the arena.

The hidden passage led us into a plaza across the way, and when I turned, I saw the utter devastation of what had been the Saremon compound. They had shaken it to rubble rather than let anyone else gain a foothold there. It would take a salvage crew weeks to unearth their library, though the magickal shields should protect the books from harm. A host of curious onlookers had gathered to watch the fall of the house of Saremon. They didn’t see us emerge behind them.

“Summon the carriage,” I told Greydusk. “And take us to the palace.”

After handing my father’s body to Chance, the Imaron did as I ordered. I watched with implacable resolve as the cube unfolded and he sent the black mist of the Klothod into the mechanism. It wasn’t revolting anymore; it was a tool to be used. The demon assisted me into the coach, and we were off before the assembled mob took an interest in our activities.

The city—and the caste checkpoints—flew by in a blur; then the coach stopped outside a massive black gate with barbed points atop the walls. This wasn’t a glamorous fairy castle. It was entirely suitable for a demon queen. Time had been unkind, but with a little effort, the villa would glow once more with a dark luster.

“Home sweet home,” I murmured.

“You need to disembark, Your Majesty. The magickal protections sealed the place up when you vanished. Only your touch can raise the portcullis.”

Nodding, I dropped down to the cobbled street and strode toward the gate, where I wrapped both hands around the bars. “Open in the name of the Once and Future Queen, who is risen.”

A shudder rocked the ground I stood upon. Then the bars scrolled backward with a hideous, rusty shriek. I returned to the carriage.

“It knows me,” I said with satisfaction.

“As do we all,” Greydusk replied. “Even those who oppose you cannot dispute your identity.”

The coach clattered over the stones into the courtyard. Behind us, the portcullis lowered on its own, like enormous jaws slowly swallowing prey—an ominous and efficient magick. I approved.

Craning my neck, I took my first complete visual inspection. The structure was Gothic, with crenellated windows, four separate towers, flying buttresses, ribbed arches, and high vaults. In places the dark stone had crumbled away, leaving chunks broken on the courtyard tile. Part of me remembered when this place bustled with those eager to do my bidding, but it was dark and silent now.

No matter.

“Lay him out here,” I told Greydusk.

The Imaron set my father’s body down gently. Though it would take time and power, I knew a ritual that would burn him to ash, but I needed magickal accoutrements first, much stronger than the white witch herbs in the box my human half had treasured so. Unfortunately, her belongings had been left in a car abandoned on a mountainside. There might be some components left within the castle.

Inside, it was a ruin, and I found nothing salvageable, save a white curtain, which I used as a funeral shroud. With a stub of charcoal, I scrawled my needs on a scrap of ancient parchment. “You will fetch these items for me immediately,” I told Greydusk.

“As you command, my queen.”

That left Chance and me alone in the dying light, as shadows gathered around my father’s body. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. Someone should stand guard over him in death as no one had in life. His sacrifice must be respected.

“Can I hold you?” he asked.

It was proper that he did inquire, even in private, and I craved the comfort of his arms. Such behavior was not regal, perhaps, but there were none to see, not even the quasits, which had stalked our steps since our arrival. Now there was only darkness and silence.

In answer I went to him and he wrapped me up. I rested my head on his heart. “Is this all very strange to you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Yet you remain. Such loyalty is a treasure beyond price.”

“I’m not altogether sure who you are at the moment,” he admitted softly, “but somewhere in there is the woman I’ve loved for years. That’s enough for me.”

From the deepest recess of my mind, a whisper came: I love you too. The human’s joy cascaded through me until it became my own. She was stronger than I’d realized, forcing me to feel what she felt.

“I’m she, but more too.”

“Yeah, I got that earlier. I could tell you were different when you came back for us.” He ran his hands along my sides, grazing the wound I’d taken in the arena.

I hissed a breath and drew back.

“You’re hurt. How bad is it?”

I shrugged. In my natural form, such minor damage would have already healed. I had no idea how this hybrid thing I’d become would handle wounds, though certainly I was frail by comparison.

“I’ll survive. He won’t.” With my gaze, I indicated the white-shrouded figure lying supine on the stones.

“Don’t blame yourself for his choices. He loved you that much.”

“I am more concerned with vengeance than guilt,” I said silkily.

“Ah.” From his expression and the way he pulled back, folding his arms, I could tell I had disappointed him somehow, given an unexpected response.

“There will be satisfaction in destroying those responsible.” I tried to explain, and I hated the impulse. A consort need not approve my actions; he needed only to submit to my will.

“Do you remember where we first met?” he asked.

The knowledge swam at the back of my head, so far away that I had to sink to retrieve it. “At a dry cleaner’s?”