Valerie’s words continue to dig into me. They’re salt on old wounds. They sting.
It’s deplorable. But that’s how I’ve lived for so many years. As a deplorable man.
My beverage is cool as I take a sip. The burn of alcohol runs down my throat. The ice clinks together. I’m sitting in front of a bar in one of the club’s private rooms, reserved for VIPs. This one is empty save for me. The lights here are blue and make everything else the same. It’s a little annoying, since I can’t tell the actual color of what I’m drinking.
Nobody’s manning the bar, so I help myself to another serving, pouring the liquor until it almost reaches the top of my glass.
My gaze dips to Zrako’s ring. It’s a simple ring, decorated with knot-like patterns. I wear it like a battle scar. It’s torture to look at my brother’s memento. He made me the person I am today. He made all of us. The angels took his life, but he continues to run through my mind, living in my dreams and actions.
I would have given my life for his. I begged the angels, but they cut down my request with their vicious swords. Valerie doesn’t understand. I have to be cold-hearted because power only comes to the strong-willed, and that means sacrificing others, even if you feel sorry for them.
I acted on my empathy once. Because of that, we all lost Zrako and my parents. I can’t let myself make the same mistakes.
I take my packet of nightflower powder from my pocket and place it on the counter. The drug causes a heady rush of power. After, it simmers into a low, humming sensation. It’s what we use to control large portions of the Underworld. I also use it to control myself and numb the throbbing in my chest that never ceases.
The ache doesn’t feel like pain—not exactly. Perhaps it’s the boredom, and how it constantly pulses through me.
It’s because Zrako got himself beheaded. That day my world went dark, because he was the source of fire that warmed our hearts, and the angels extinguished him along with it.
I bring the powder to my nose and snort it. It shoots through me, putting me on edge. The drug throbs through my veins, sending my head into a whirl. Color returns to my world, if only for a fraction of a second. Side effects of nightflower powder include an explosive temper and possible hallucinations. So far, the latter hasn’t shown up for me. Not too drastically, anyway. They haven’t stayed long enough to make a difference, just like the temporary rush of power the nightflower powder is supposed to bring.
I’m frustrated when the effects begin to dissipate.
I sigh. Sylver kicks the door open and saunters into the room. Hard electronic music thumps into the room as he enters, before muffling when the door shuts by itself. Sylver slips into the chair next to me and reaches over to pour a swig of liquor.
“You really should stop using that stuff,” Sylver says. “You don’t think it does anything, but it fucks you up, even if you’re not aware. Your eyes are bloodshot.” He sighs. “Zrako wouldn’t like seeing you with it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” I fold the packet up and put it into my pocket for later use.
“Your older brother.” Sylver swirls the liquor in his glass. He rests the glass at his lips, but then sets it down before he takes a sip. “He loved you. Probably even more than he loved me.”
“I’m the reason why the angels got to him in the first place.” Sylver and I were close, but that was in the past. These days, there’s nothing but venom and regrets between us. Sometimes I wish we could go back to when we wreaked havoc together, without the grudges that keep us apart.
Sylver rests his arm on the bar and turns to me. There’s a sorrowful look in his eyes. “I know. The angels wanted Zrako in exchange for your life.”
I pitied an angel and released him to Earth because he begged to go back to his family. I thought it was harmless to save him, and he no longer had wings, so he’d be unsafe traveling alone in the midst of war. So I dropped him at the portal to Heaven, like he requested. My naïve self didn’t know other angels waited there for me. I let myself get ambushed. I was stupid.
“It wasn’t worth it.”
“I don’t know,” Sylver says. I like how he doesn’t completely shut my comment down and fake like he prefers me over Zrako. His brutal honesty hurts, but it’s the kind of hurt I need. The effects of the nightflower continue to pound through my head, but it’s so little compared to when I first started using it.
Sylver downs his entire glass. “I miss him. He always had a way about things. He was a demon, but probably the brightest one of us all.” Nobody loved Zrako more than Sylver. Guilt hums in my chest at that thought. My big brother was who I looked up to. He was the person who trained and molded me to what I am today. And yet Sylver’s love for him overshadowed mine.
“We’ll get him back,” Sylver says.
“Get him back?”
“With the orb. It’s said to be able to bring the dead back.”
I grunt. I reach over and pour myself a glass of liquor. “That’s a myth. No one has done it.”
“It’s capable of such feats; the right person to use it just hasn’t shown up yet. I just know it. I’m clinging to that hope. It’s the only way I’m able to continue.”
“Not pretty girl Valerie? You seem pretty excited about her.”
He laughs. It’s not happy. “She’s nothing like Zrako.”
“No, she isn’t.” But she is something special. The embers of her rage… She’s experienced so much hardship for someone as young as she is. Perhaps it’s because I want to put out her flames, or maybe seal them and take them for my own.
I don’t know what the fuck I want with her. She’s a walking mystery.
“She’s mine,” I say. A spike of hunger shoots through me. I recall how her lips felt on my cock, and how small yet comfortable her frame is. I want her touch for my own.
“I don’t see your brand on her. She hasn’t agreed to your contract.”
“Soon.” I finish my drink and set the glass down. Music continues to reverberate through the club. It’s a nuisance. “She only has to say yes.”
“I made her the same offer.”
“And yet she will be mine.”
“You’re always so cocksure.” He smiles. “I’m open to sharing, you know? Us incubi believe in ‘the more the merrier.’”
Sylver has been trying to drag me into the thing him and Vickal share for the longest time. Whatever it is. I’m as straight as an arrow, however, and want no part in it. “And demons like me believe in taking everything for ourselves.”
“It’s a lonely existence.”
I chuckle. He’s so on point that it’s funny.
Sylver looks at the row of liquor bottles as if it’s the most interesting in the world. He’s spacing out, transporting his mind to another time and place. He does that often. “You weren’t always like this, you know. Zrako would prefer it if you opened up.”
“Yeah. But big brother isn’t here anymore.”
“He’d be sad to see you like this. Remember that time when he first taught us how to hunt the Basilisks?”
It’s a pleasant memory from more pleasant times. “You mean when we tried to hunt them?” I can’t help but smile thinking about it. It was before I became all-powerful Xeres, Lord of the Underworld. Back then, I was still stumbling about, trying to figure out my own powers.
I was barely a teen. Sylver is older than me by far, and was more powerful than me in the old days. Probably still is, but he keeps his powers to himself.
That day, Zrako was supposed to show me how to use my blackfyre against the hideous creatures. Sylver insisted he knew the way, and Zrako and I stupidly believed him, letting him try to lead for once. We ended up in the Mountains of Shishar, where the sneezing ivies grew in abundance. Zrako had to take a week off because he looked silly constantly sneezing amongst his armies. He couldn’t last two minutes without an achoo. It was hilarious to see Zrako that flustered.
“We never reached those ugly creatures,” Sylver says.
“No thanks to you,” I say.
“I’ll tell you the truth. I actually knew the way that time.”
I frown.
“I wanted your brother to spend more time with me. He was always so busy, so I devised an excuse. And it worked. I made him take an entire week off.”
“And how did that work out?”
“It was hard to kiss with him sneezing in my face all the time.”
I chuckle again. Three bouts of laughter in one conversation—a record. Sylver and I hardly talk. “Sometimes being devious doesn’t pay.”
“Sometimes.” Sylver swats away one of the lesser demons. It thwacks onto a wall and slumps to the ground. “Most of the time it does pay, however.”
The next minute is silent. The song in the far background changes to something more languid, but still with bass and a strong beat.
“That deal you have with Bella,” Sylver says. “It’s not right.”
“Most things we do aren’t.” I’ve beheaded plenty of subjects, ordered the death of demon clans, women and children alike. Ruling Hell has made me deal a harsh hand frequently, even if it irks me to do so.
“I recognized one of the girls earlier.”
“Oh?”
“She used to serve Bella when they resided in Hell. I talked to her once, so long ago I can’t remember when. She came over during one of the peace negotiations between Bella and Zrako. She always wanted to leave the clan, to join her true love, who was a rogue.”
“Too bad the Belladonnas have a no-leaving policy.”
“Yeah. And now she’s here.”
“And now she’s here.” Away from her love. A tragic story, but not enough to make me change Bella’s mind.
“What if I don’t want to use my powers for this?” Sylver asks.
Sylver is ancient, but he’s also good. It’s strange. With enough time, power is supposed to corrupt even the most honest of people. Sylver, however, seems to need more time than most. Good demons aren’t supposed to exist, but if anyone ever wanted an example of one, he’d be it.
“You have to,” I say.
“Is that a command?”
“It is.”
Sylver leans back and closes his eyes. “Okay.”
I try to think of something to say but can’t. That’s all right, though, because this silence between us feels nice. I don’t know why I like it, but I do, and I go back to concentrating on the nightflower powder pulsing through my bloodstream.
The door behind us swings open. Vickal stands in the doorway. He’s angry, with a tinge of dismay. His eyes are just beginning to change to black. “They’re gone.”
“Who?” I ask.
At first, I worry he’s talking about Jared and Valerie, but Vickal replies, “The girls. The ones who didn’t want to give in to Bella. They’ve upped and left.”
“But that can’t be.” To join the Belladonnas, one has to make a contract. “Who did this?”
“Our precious cipher, apparently. Bella’s enraged. She wants an explanation or she’ll have our heads.”
I growl. It’s fucking trouble after trouble. Why can’t things ever go smoothly?
I slip the nightflower into my pocket. “Where’s Val?”
“In the temporary room we gave the twins.”
I push myself to my feet and stride out. My blood boils. I’m going to make her pay for being a pain in my ass. And the punishment is going to be sweet. For her or for me? I’m not sure yet.