And I would deal with him later.
What a thought. I would deal with the king of monsters, and I already knew he would kneel to me, perhaps even cry, but never learn.
In a very strange, comforting way, I could even accept that.
But first… Darius.
Lip curled, I stood just as I had seen my haughty daughter stand, snarling, “You’ll be nothing but a display in a garden, scratching at the minds of those who wander too near in the same way mice scratch at the walls. You’re a pathetic infestation, Darius.”
“Kiss me, my treasure.”
Oh, I’d kiss him all right. I’d eat his face right down to the bone!
Tongue already tracing the sharper edges of my teeth, I took a step closer, caught by a voice at my ear. “Pearl, this is no place for you.”
What?
Who on earth would dare come between me and the finest, most pure moment of rage.
True hatred sang in me as if it had always been there, would always be there, and would give me all the comfort I lacked since my first breath.
What was love when hate might empower? What was love but a figment of the imagination?
Hate was far more real. It was palpable.
I could be whole!
A figure stepped into my periphery. “Look at me. One look and you’ll understand why hate will never devour love no matter how hard it tries. Compassion triumphs over cruelty. Self-respect feeds while self-indulgence diminishes. Pearl. I’m right here.”
A man, brown-skinned and beautiful in a way tranquil seas were beautiful. Eyes as hypnotic as waving barley in a soft breeze. Voice… his voice was water to quench an endless thirst. He offered a kind smile, even as he said, “This particular demon knows you in ways you cannot imagine. Look at your hands. Already, you’re pulling Darius free of his prison. He’s luring you into his whims, feeding your hatred.”
What?
Oh God….
My outstretched hands were sticky with rotting ooze, both palms flush to the torn ribbons of throat that needed to be worked free. I had already pulled the snapping head a good three inches higher, fighting the crusting matter that had glued him in place.
I was touching the vilest of creatures, his crispy skin cracking against my touch, his teeth bared as if once I pulled him to my bosom, he’d feast.
While I thought I was making a feast of him.
Desperate, the monstrosity screamed vileness into my mind as I yanked my touch away, and a sickening sound followed the head sinking down the pole until the tip hit the inside of his skull.
Its face was a frenzy of twitching, brains scrambling, healing, scrambling, healing. Just like me, there was a hole. A pike, taking parts away.
And in that, I took pleasure.
Even as I gagged.
The effort it took to break my gaze from the boiling crimson of a half-rotted head was almost unbearable.
As if it might make me clean, I scrubbed my hands on the silk of my skirt, the red growing grisly with the bits of unspeakable things. The stain on the outside matching the stain on the inside as that thing screamed for me to return.
Darius had been so close to freedom, in the arms of a daywalker who could move through space on an accidental whim. Who had fallen into his dream by teasing me with the angelic face of a dirty, suffering boy.
My boy.
Just like my girl, Jade.
“He has my son.”
“He has nothing,” the man said. “He’s a head on a pike. One tormented knowing his heart beats in the chest of a good man.”
Ignoring the ring of suddenly silent vampires—beautiful dead things that toed a line they could not cross—I faced the intruder.
And knew him.
Which was not comforting.
Arms folded under my breasts, further concealing my modesty from roving eyes, I saw the face he refused to offer on display at the wedding. And I found little gratitude considering all the years I called out for help and had been ignored.
“What do you think?” He was ignoring my narrowed eyes and heaving breath. “They fear their fallen king so much they cannot even step forward to snatch up two vulnerable daywalkers.”
“You are not vulnerable.” And he should not pretend as such.
Where brown eyes had dragged over the crowd, many vampires scampered back as though burned. They came back to rest on me. And gave me no pain.
Outstretching a hand, he said, “I’m not afraid of him.”
“I am.” That was not a hand I would take.
“I know. That’s how darkness worms in. Evil feeds on fear yet is slain by love.” The answer was easy, even offered with a kind smile.
“And God is real. And the world should vibrate with forgiveness. And my children were taken from my body. And the only lover I’ve ever accepted used me as a prop to stage a show. And I am alone. And you hide your face.” My lip shook, fresh tears falling as I struggled to say, “And your teachings were false.”
“So much of what I tried to share was twisted, even by those who claimed to follow me. I said one thing, and they claimed another long after I walked away from the tomb. Believe me when I tell you that the truth is devoured. It has to claw its way out of the belly of the beast. It has to fight what it is being replaced with. And, in doing so, is altered.” He looked pained. Endlessly sad. “I had been warned.”
I knew. I had dreamed of those forty days and forty nights in the desert. “So what do we do?”
“I had been warned,” he clarified. “But
