The Trouble with Demons

“If you don’t think I have what it takes, why don’t you get someone else to run your errand?”



“Because I believe you to be one of the few individuals on this forsaken island who could survive long enough to get what I require. It is quite simple: I have the knowledge you need; you have the freedom I want. Mychael said it himself: the Saghred cannot be contained. That means that I cannot be contained. Piaras isn’t the only desirable target. I can plant suspicions and questions in the minds of certain highly placed mages, questions that Mychael, Tamnais, and yourself do not want asked. Or I could confirm that which Carnades Silvanus already knows—that you and Tamnais are in what he would call an unholy alliance. And the knowledge that your paladin has joined you both in your bond would make Carnades, quite possibly, the happiest mage on Mid.”



“You’re lying. You can only communicate with me because of my link to the Saghred.” I said it, but I didn’t know it for a fact.



“Communicating with those outside of your realm of influence would be difficult, but not impossible. It will require substantial effort on my part, but the reward will more than compensate for any discomfort I may suffer. And if you doubt that what I say is true, ask your father. He spent hundreds of years with the stone. Ask him if he ever heard whispered voices in the still, secret hours of the night.” Sarad Nukpana was finished playing. “Find a way to release me, or prepare to spend the rest of your life imprisoned—or walking to the executioner’s block to join Tamnais and Mychael.”



“Tell me why I can’t find the Scythe myself.”



“I will share my knowledge, but only because it benefits me. The Scythe of Nen is of demon make. They made it; they can find it.” His smile turned sly. “But as with any demon-crafted object, it will react to that which it is not. When it reacts, you will recognize it for what it is.”



“Is it too much to ask that just once a goblin would give me a straight answer?”



“Anything a demon crafts or uses absorbs their corruption, their evil, their impurity. To counter that, and to find the Scythe of Nen, you will need the help of someone pure.” His eyes glittered wickedly. “And as untouched as freshly fallen snow.”



I knew what he meant. “You have got to be kidding.”



He smiled. “Would I lie, seeker?”



In a heartbeat. But I knew in my gut that he wasn’t lying, at least not this time. To find the Scythe of Nen, I first had to find possibly the most elusive quarry I’d ever had to locate in my entire seeking career: a virgin on an island full of college students.



“But know this, seeker—I do not make idle threats. Fail me in this and I will destroy you, but first I will destroy those you love.” His voice dropped to a low purr. “Yes, seeker. I know whom you love—and who loves you. You would protect them at any cost, even if you will not admit it to yourself except in your most private thoughts. Tamnais. You find him seductive, yet vulnerable, wounded by his past, wounds you want to heal, a past you secretly yearn to help him forget. He cannot forget his past.” Nukpana laughed softly. “And believe me, his past has not forgotten him. It’s coming for him; they are coming for him. And Mychael, the gallant knight, the noble protector of the people—and of you. He protects you for reasons you know, and for reasons he has only begun to acknowledge. I will twist his strength into his undoing.” The goblin’s eyes were the flat black of a shark. “I will destroy them first, then the nightingale; and after all of them are gone, and your pain and loss has become too much for you to bear, only then will I come for you.”



He faded into the gray void.



“Fail me not, seeker,” came his voice from far away.



The goblin was gone. I told myself I could stop shaking now, but apparently I wasn’t finished yet.



Sarad Nukpana was gone, but I was still here. Just me. All alone. By myself.



And not waking up.



I desperately wanted to wake up, but I couldn’t.



“Raine,” came a distorted whisper from behind me in the mist.



I spun, my hand going for a dagger. It wasn’t there. I couldn’t believe this; my dream self was completely unarmed. If I survived, I needed to have a serious talk with my dream self.



“Daughter,” said the same voice, closer this time.



My shoulders slumped in relief. “Why the hell didn’t you say that the first time?” My hands were still clenched in fists ready to fight. I think they were stuck that way.



Eamaliel came out of the mist; or more accurately, the silvery mist formed into my father.



“Bravo, daughter. It is dangerous to toy with one such as Sarad Nukpana.” He smiled. “Though you do it exceptionally well.”



I held out my hand and looked at it. It’d stopped shaking. Almost. “Under different circumstances, it could have almost been fun. Though having me and mine threatened with torture, death, and eternal torment kind of took the shine off the whole experience.” I paused. “You heard everything?”



“Every word.”



“Is he lying?”



“About what part?”



“Me needing a virgin to find the Scythe of Nen.”



“No, he did not lie.”



I was so screwed, no pun intended. “I have to use something that doesn’t exist to find something I don’t know what it is.”



My father’s gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sarad Nukpana doesn’t know, but I do.”



I couldn’t believe my pointy ears. “The Scythe of Nen?”



“The very thing. But knowing may not make finding it any easier.”



“I don’t care. I’ll take anything at this point.”



“It’s a dagger.”



I couldn’t believe my ears again. “A dagger?”



“It was forged by demons to open the Saghred. When the demons found the stone, it already contained trapped souls. The demon king wanted to open the Saghred to consume the souls inside.”



I grimaced. I had an entirely unwanted image of using a knife to pry open an oyster.



“So did the demon king get a chance to use the thing?”



“He did; and since he’s in here, let’s just say it didn’t go as well as he planned.”



“How the heck do you know all this?”



“The demon king isn’t the only demon trapped inside the Saghred. There are others; one of them was the demon who forged the Scythe. He’s really not a bad sort for a demon, and he’s quite talkative. The king ordered him to open the Saghred for him so he could have the first pick of the souls inside.”



“So if they’re in here, that means the Scythe doesn’t open the Saghred?”



“Unfortunately, it works all too well. The king plucked out quite a few souls before the Saghred plucked back. The Scythe’s forger had plunged the dagger into the stone, the stone was open, the king was holding it in his hand . . .”



I grimaced. “A pair of sacrifices waiting to happen.”



“Exactly. The Saghred does not like to part with that which it has consumed.”



I remembered that all too well from the Reaper. I had myself a head-to-toe shudder. “No, I don’t think it likes that at all.”



I had a thought that I didn’t like at all. “There have to be thousands of daggers on this island.”



“But only one of them is the Scythe of Nen.”



I blew out my breath. “Okay, what does it look like?”



“I have never seen it myself, but from what I’ve gathered, it’s a small dagger with a curved blade. The scabbard is ornately carved with cavorting demons.”



I felt my lip curl up. “Cavorting?”



“Unfortunately, yes. You’ll know it when you see it.”



I added a stomach roll to my lip curl. “That’s something to look forward to.”



“As to size, the entire weapon is no larger than my hand.”



“So it could be hidden literally anywhere. Wonderful. I’m on an island with probably five virgins and thousands of daggers. Needle, haystack. Need I say more? Those aren’t my kind of odds.”



“They could be better,” my father agreed.



“And to liven things up, a demon horde is looking for the same thing, and they don’t need a virgin.” I had a really bad thought. “Or do they?”



“Do you believe that they are close to finding the Scythe?”



“Doesn’t look like it. We’ve got demons popping up all over the island, and the demon queen herself wants to have a heart-to-heart chat with me, if she has a heart,” I muttered. “She thinks I know where the Scythe is but just won’t tell her.”



My father winced. “When you wake up, you may want to have Paladin Eiliesor take steps to protect the island’s virgins.”



“Demons can sense that sort of thing?”



“They can. Some claim that virginity even attracts them.”



I groaned inwardly. I might not beat the demons to the Scythe, but I suddenly thought I knew where I could find a virgin. “I won’t be searching haystacks. I think I know someone.”



“You don’t sound happy about it.”



“And neither will he.”



I really needed to sit down. In my next dream, there would be a chair. Too much had happened since I rolled out of bed this morning, and none of it had been good. I wasn’t the only one in danger; I could handle it if I were. Okay, at least I could handle it better. But because of me, because of the Saghred, some of the people I cared for the most were about to be at the mercy and whims of men who had no business wielding that kind of power. Overwhelmed pretty much covered how I felt. And scared. Definitely scared.



“Raine?”



“I’m scared, Dad.”



He gently laid his hands on my shoulders. I didn’t know if I was imagining it—this was a dream after all—but his hands felt warm and strong.



“Scared sounds like the right thing to be,” he said softly.