Wren

Exhaustion was something I’d experienced hours ago. Now, I had no words to describe the bone-deep weariness encompassing me. Every step felt like I was wading through a swamp. Keeping my eyes open had become a losing battle, and I was certain I’d fallen asleep while walking a few times.

Once, the rumbling of my stomach had woken me, but I’d adjusted to my hunger pangs and the dryness of my throat. Food and drink were two things I was used to going without. I could go another day, possibly two if it remained cool in here, before dehydration really started to affect me.

I kept my hand on Corson’s back, so I would know if something gulped him down. My other hand rested on the butt of my gun, but it slid off every time my head drooped forward. Stopping was death, but I’d love to be able to sit for a minute. I didn’t dare wish for it. The idea of drawing the jinn to us was almost as frightening as the serpent stalking us through its lair.

The rancid stench of something worse than the ouro’s breath hit me. I was slapped awake by the smell burning my nose. It caused my eyes to water and nearly sent me reeling away to vomit. The possibility of retching on Corson’s boots was the only thing that kept me from throwing up.

“What is that?” I choked out as I pinched my nose in a useless attempt to block the odor.

“I think we’ve found where the ouro is stashing its regurgitated meals for later feeding.”

I gulped as bile surged up my throat and my hunger vanished. “Is it ahead of us?” Or worse… “Are we standing in its saved food?”

The possibility had me gulping again and afraid to take another step. I’d seen countless atrocities over my life, but I’d never had the misfortune of standing in snake vomit.

“No. It’s coming from a side tunnel. Come,” Corson said and briefly touched my arm.

I fell into step behind him again, unwilling to release my nose until I believed it was safe to do so. My nerves had gone beyond the point of frayed, and I couldn’t stop imagining we would simply walk into the ouro’s mouth. If that happened, I’d slice the ouro’s tongue off and fire holes into its throat as it gulped us down, but that wouldn’t stop it from swallowing us like the whale swallowed Jonah.

Even with that horrible prospect in mind, my energy deflated again, and I found myself shuffling behind Corson instead of lifting my feet off the ground. I didn’t know how far we’d traveled before my chin hit my chest and my head jerked up.

Blinking, I realized there was still nothing but darkness surrounding us. The firelight by the jinn had been so warm and inviting; those pillows a little bit of Heaven, but what looked so pleasurable at first glance, revealed itself as a nightmare upon closer inspection.

The suffering etched onto the woman’s face was something I’d never forget, or the blood seeping down the man’s back. My experience with sex had been far from earth-shattering, but it had been more pleasurable than that.

Sometimes I wondered if the circumstances of my life had left me frigid and unable to enjoy sex. A lot of the women Wilders gushed about sex, especially my friend Jolie, but I could take it or leave it.

I’d never revealed those thoughts to anyone. I knew it wasn’t normal to feel that way, knew I’d be met with shocked expressions if I did tell someone that. Jolie would probably be determined to fix me and shove me at the first guy who walked by. She’d insist I try again, as if it were like learning to shoot and the more I did it, the better I’d get at it. Maybe that was true, but I had no interest in trying again.

Well, maybe I had some interest in trying again, I realized. Corson made me feel not so frigid, and whereas I’d decided sex wasn’t necessary in my life, I found myself craving him as my hand slipped down his back.

When I realized I was licking my lips, I jerked my hand away from him and rubbed my eyes with my knuckles. Exhaustion and a concussion, that was what was wrong with me and why I had these bizarre imaginings about being with a demon.

My thoughts turned back to the jinn and the poor couple. Guilt tugged at me over leaving them behind, but dying to save two strangers who might not deserve saving was pure stupidity. I hadn’t lived this long by being stupid.

“Why would they do that?”

“Do what?” Corson whispered, and I realized I’d spoken the question out loud.

I shook my head, then felt like an idiot when I realized he couldn’t see me. “The jinn, to those people, why would they do that to them?”

“Like other demons, the jinn survive by feeding on suffering.”

A shiver ran down my spine at the stark reminder of what he was and how he survived.

“The jinn feed on it more than others,” Corson continued. “Most demons survive solely by feeding on wraiths, but other demons like the jinn and canagh require more.”

“I see.”

I smacked into his back before I realized he’d stopped before me. A tingle of awareness slid over my nerve endings when my hand brushed over his before I stepped away from him.

Does he infuriate me so much because I am so aware of him? I wondered. I’d noticed other men over the years, but none of them had riveted or unsettled me as much as Corson did.

“It is necessary for demons to feed on wraiths,” he whispered. “It’s part of the circle of life. Without it, all life would cease to exist.”

“Really?” I asked, hating that I found myself intrigued.

Corson’s sigh caused his breath to caress my cheek. There was a smoky hint to his breath that I found surprisingly pleasant. “For someone with so much hatred toward demons, you know nothing of us. Our existence is necessary for your survival.”

“And humans are necessary for yours,” I retorted. “Maybe I don’t know all there is to know about demons, but I know that much. The demons who follow the king, such as you, wouldn’t be fighting to preserve the human race if you didn’t need us for your survival.”

Demons may not be as atrocious as I’d believed all these years, but they weren’t warm or loving either. They’d let us die without blinking an eye if they didn’t need us for something. Some of them were friendly to humans, but most were completely indifferent, and others couldn’t hide they found us as useless as a rudder on a duck’s ass and as annoying as gnats.

Corson was probably the most social of all the demons, except for maybe the skelleins. And the odd little skellein demons were as happy drinking the beer they brewed as they were chopping off an enemy’s head. Sometimes I believed they’d be as happy chopping off anyone’s head, enemy or not.

“Yes, humans are necessary for our survival,” Corson replied. “And the demons who follow the king are known as palitons. Those who stand against him, the ones who followed Lucifer and are now either scrambling to find a new leader or already have found one, are known as craetons.”

“Oh.”

The softest footstep was the only sign I had that he’d started walking again. I hurried to catch up with him.

“Demons took everything from me.” I crashed into his back when he stopped walking again. “Stop doing that!” I snapped as I stumbled away.

“Humans took everything away from you,” he growled. “Your species was playing with things they never should have played with. Because of that, they opened a gateway into Hell, into our world. Their ignorance tore apart the intricate balance between Hell, Heaven, and Earth. A balance that took millions of years to form, yet they ruined it in an instant.

“What happened after Hell opened was a result of the human’s actions. We worked hard to make everything right again by closing the gateway, but it was too late. There is no undoing what was done. I don’t think we ever could have fixed the destruction the humans wrought, not even if we closed the gateway seconds after it opened.”

He was right; I knew that now, but… “It was demons who tore my mom limb from limb while I watched,” I spat at him. “Not humans.”

When he rested his hand on my arm, I moved it away from him. I couldn’t deal with any sympathy from anyone while the familiar rage and sorrow over that memory swelled in my chest. Screams resonated in my head, and tears burned my eyes as the lump in my throat choked me. For the first time in years, the memory of her face, her fervent words to me on that day, and her love for me broke free to swirl through my mind.

Afraid the grief would bury me, I shoved the memories aside and focused on the now.

“Yes, humans screwed up big time,” I whispered, “but they weren’t the ones laughing as they poured my mother’s blood all over them and down their throats.”

“I’m sorry, Wren. You shouldn’t have had to experience that. No one should.”

I was glad I couldn’t see his face, because if I’d seen pity in his eyes, I would have punched him in the nose. I didn’t know why I’d told him about that day in the first place. What did he care what had happened to my mother, or anything about my life? Why had I revealed to him something I’d only ever told Randy before?

I certainly didn’t trust him as much as I trusted Randy. I also loved Randy; I barely tolerated Corson.

Liar! There was that stupid little inner voice again, and I hated it!

It’s the dark and the possible concussion, I decided. That’s why I revealed that to him.

I couldn’t see him; he almost wasn’t real if I couldn’t see him. Plus, these could be the last moments of our lives. Of course, I was thinking about my mother more now when I’d spent years trying to forget her and that day. I’d watched her die, and my death could be unfolding in these tunnels. For all I knew, my next breath might be my last.

And after what I’d seen yesterday—or at least I thought it was yesterday, I had no idea how much time had passed since we’d fallen into the ouro’s trap—it only made sense the memories of my past would be closer to the surface than they’d been in years.