The Demon King (5 page)

The Vampire King continued to hold that
gaze, and Laz could almost see his wheels spinning. “You still
haven’t found your queen.”

Now it was Lazarus’s turn to blink. The
change in subject took him starkly by surprise. He honestly hadn’t
been thinking about his “queen” in any capacity. Not even a little
bit, and not in any way, shape, or form.

Had he?

His gaze narrowed. “Come again?” he
demanded.

“
It doesn’t frustrate you
in the least that she hasn’t yet made an appearance while they seem
to be pouring from the woodwork around you and making other kings’
dreams come true?” D’Angelo smiled slowly at that and though it was
a hard smile, filled with knowledge and challenge, it was also
self-deprecatory because he, himself was one of those men whose
dreams had come true. “Nor does it bother you that the other men
and women who sit at this table might be having second thoughts
about you because of it?”

Laz felt something nasty move through him,
like a disease he’d been trying to ignore that had finally moved in
to his blood. There was no other way to describe it. The Vampire
King had all but just admitted that everyone who’d been in that
room earlier thought of Lazarus as the traitor.

He
thought
he’d known why the meeting
was held in Boston this time. But now he realized he’d been wrong.
It wasn’t because of the location or the sun or anything like that.
It was because of Laz.

Since he’d been both unconsciously and
consciously wondering if the others were doubting him, this wasn’t
really so much a surprise as a highly unwelcome confirmation. But
it was uncomfortable, nonetheless.

Normally, he would have dealt with it using
reason and a calm demeanor so hard, nothing could crack it. But now
that hard, calm demeanor was a still shell over something a little
less reasonable and a lot more angry.

He smiled, tamping down the
turmoil inside as if he’d had centuries of practice. The smile was
slow and mean, and he knew it didn’t belong on his face by the way
D’Angelo focused on it. “Frankly, no,” Laz said in a manner just as
slow and careful as his smile. “You have to understand, D’Angelo,
my years are measured by human standards.” He raised his hands.
“I’m in my thirties.” His fake smile broadened. “Not exactly
feeling the weight of lonely centuries on my shoulders the way some
of you are... or
were
.”

He let that sink in, just to be mean.

“
So the fact that I haven’t
‘found my queen,’ as you say,” he continued, “is not as high on my
shit list as you and the others might assume it would
be.”

The Vampire King seemed to take this in
stride. At least, he showed no outward reaction to Lazarus’s
statements. Instead, he cocked his head to one side and asked,
“Then what is?”

More silence filled the room.

The truth was, Laz didn’t
have an answer to that. He was definitely under
some
kind of pressure these days. It
was why he’d been getting more violent than strictly necessary with
the bad guys lately. There was a kind of anger burgeoning inside
him. For lack of a better description, it seemed the world was
tainting itself red. He’d heard the term, “fire in the blood”
before. Now he was fairly sure he knew what that meant. There was
definitely something crackling away inside him, and every day
stoked it in some new way.

Like now.

“
You’d best be heading back
to your hole in the ground, Roman,” he said, referring to the
Vampire King by his first name despite the fact that the two had
never really been close enough for a first name basis. He left the
king at the windows and moved to the opposite end of the room,
calling up his magic as he went. “And get the hell out of my
town.”

Lazarus’s words echoed behind him like the
warning they were as he used his dark magic to transport from one
location in Boston, Massachusetts to another.

Chapter Four

It might have been a natural nick-name,
being the shortened version of “Dahlia,” but nevertheless the
Vampire Queen was perhaps the only person alive Dahlia would have
allowed to call her “Doll.” She’d been doing it since they’d met,
and that helped a little. The respect they had for one another
helped too.

Evelynne D’Angelo had come from a poor
family, so she knew what it meant to struggle. She was responsible,
level-headed, and kind. As a mortal, she’d rescued animals,
volunteered at charities, and supported her family with every
paycheck she’d earned. Those paychecks came from the sales of
eBooks that she’d begun posting after trying to become a print
published author for no less than ten hard years. The rumors were
that Evie kept more than three hundred rejection letters somewhere
in the back of her closet. She saved them so she would never forget
all she’d gone through, and so she’d be reminded of how important
it was to never give up.

When she was made the
Vampire Queen, she suddenly became the ground-breaking,
glass-ceiling shattering woman who ushered in a new level of female
involvement in the supernatural realms. Because of Evie – the first
of the queens – it was widely accepted and understood that the
queens were not only
as
powerful as the kings and as necessary at the
Table of the Thirteen, they were
more
powerful. They were quite
literally like the queens on a chess board. They were in control,
and without them the game would be lost.

Dahlia greatly respected her new found
vampire friend. That was why she’d turned to her in this hour of
need. When it came down to it, Evie was right. Dahlia needed to get
this off her chest.

“
Watch your step when we
get out,” warned Evie softly. Then she smiled. “And tell me what
you think.”

Dahlia looked down to make sure she wouldn’t
stumble when she stepped out of the portal that had transported
them from the vampire mansion in the Redwood forest to the
underground cavern she’d heard so much about. She wasn’t sure
exactly what she’d been expecting; stories of what the cave looked
like were sparse and incomplete, and none of them meshed. From what
she’d heard of Evie’s underground hide-away, the cavern could be
one of many things: It was a vast stalactite-filled hole sporting
an underground river and a waterfall. Or it was a lush underground
rainforest with mushrooms and grass and vibrant blooms. Some
suggested it was filled with crisscrossing bridges and tiny
trickling streams. Others insisted it had luminescent creatures
lighting the cave from above. Some even claimed it had a cabin in
it. Dahlia seriously had no idea what kind of image to draw in her
mind.

Until she stepped out into
the actual cavern – and realized that it had
all
of those things.

“
Holy ginormous geodes …”
she muttered softly. She stood in one spot and slowly turned,
trying for the life of her to take it all in. But she had literally
never seen anything so amazing or beautiful, and she was a fae
who’d lived a very long time.

The cavern was enormous, stretching the
length of two football fields, its ceiling so high up, it was
barely visible. Bioluminescent mushrooms, algae, and flower blooms
carpeted the ceiling and part of the walls. They shed enough light
to mimic the sun just after twilight; it was a soft, warm and
welcoming glow.

A massive waterfall against one wall poured
fresh, clean drinking water into a small river that ran through the
center of the cavern. It was wide and deep enough to go swimming
in, but not so wide or deep that it was daunting. The water was
crystal clear, and the river divided the cave’s ground into what
effectively became islands. Each rounded island was connected by
small, intricately carved wooden bridges.

Some of the bridges had ivy and various
flowers wrapping through their carvings. Dahlia was fond of gardens
and flowers, even though Poppy and Lily would never believe it of
her. She kept that more feminine, softer side of herself hidden
because it had always bothered her enough to be the Tuath fae she
was. Tuathans were notoriously stunning, and sex was at the core of
their existence. Appearing any more feminine than necessary was
like a nod to that sexuality and a twist of the thorn in her side.
But true to her name, she did secretly adore flowers. Even so, she
didn’t recognize any of these blooms here. They were exotic and
shimmering, magical in nature.

Other bridges possessed gas lights that
flickered invitingly. Each separate island had a single tree that
grew from thick grass or soft-looking moss. The branches of these
trees stretched over their islands like Banyan tree benches,
waiting to be climbed. The buds on these branches were brightly
colored, and some looked to be bearing fruit as well. It looked
like some sort of Disney World water or theme park or both.

The air in the cavern was the perfect
temperature, not too hot, not too cold. The waterfall provided a
far-off static, the rivers babbled and flowed at a constant,
calming pace, but most inviting of all was the small thatch-roofed
cottage that rested on the biggest island at the center of the
cavern.

Smoke curled from the single chimney in the
cottage’s roof, but the air in the giant cave remained pure and
fresh. It smelled clean in here, like rain. More magic, no
doubt.

All along the lower half of
the walls of the cave, crystals of various colors and sizes grew
and glimmered, dressing the cavern in what looked like gemstones.
Dahlia slowly made her way over to the nearest of them and ran her
hand along shimmering jewels of yellow, pink, and blue.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered. Some of them
were
gemstones, both precious and
semi-precious. These in particular were multi-colored sapphires. A
female Tuath fae of her age and upbringing would know them
anywhere.

She dropped her hand and pulled her gaze
from the stones to the house at the center of the cavern. She
stared at it in silence a long moment. Finally she asked, “Is that
an actual house?” For some reason, she had the impression of such
perfection, she likened the abode to a doll house or a façade. It
was too beautiful.

“
It is,” said Evie.
“It’s
my
house.
All mine.” She laughed and grinned, then took off at a run down a
path of sorts, leading the way across several bridges. Dahlia was
quick to follow, keeping up until they stood in front of the
cottage.

“
Roman brought me here when
we first met and were having all that trouble with that other
vampire, Charles. Eventually, it became my get-away for writing or
just thinking. And then he told me it was all mine, which he proved
when I kicked him out one night and he actually left like a
gentleman.”

“
Those are
rare.”

“
Houses in
caverns?”

“
No, gentlemen.”

“
Indeed.” Evie nodded and
opened the cottage door. “Come in,” she gestured with a head tilt
before stepping inside. Evie may not have been literally aware of
it, as her breed of vampire didn’t need permission to enter
someone’s abode, but Dahlia’s did. The only one who seemed
completely impervious to this restrictive rule was the Entity
himself, no doubt the first of his species of vampire. But for the
others, it held fast. Personally owned homes were barred from
Dahlia’s entry unless she was invited in. So Evie’s invitations
could not have been more appropriately timed.

It had been impossible to tell from the
outside, but the cottage was actually two-story. A tiny kitchen,
dining room, and rocking chairs in front of a stone hearth occupied
the first floor. A winding wooden staircase led to a loft, and in
that loft Dahlia could see a bed.

There were actually
two
fireplaces in the
cottage, one on the first floor and one on the far wall of the
loft. She could hear warm crackling and see the orange-yellow glow
from the one above.

“
I’ve never seen so much
magic in one place before,” Dahlia said. She could feel the magic
all around her; it was like walking in a dream. There was no pain,
there were no unpleasant smells, there was no danger.

“
That may actually be true.
Not only did Roman build this over the course of his badass life
with nothing but warlock magic, it has so many wards on it, no one
can get in here without me accompanying them. Literally. I have to
transport us in, or forget it.”

Dahlia turned to her friend. “No one? Not
even Roman?”

“
Well, Roman is a given
exception. The man can do whatever he wants,” Evie shook her head
and rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were flushing with something
pleasant. “But besides him?” She laughed and shook her head. “Not
even Lalura Chantelle.”

This made Dahlia’s brows hit the ceiling.
She was assuming this was not a tested theory. But it was
impressive, nonetheless, that Evie would even think such a thing.
If she believed Chantelle couldn’t get in – then it was probably
true that no one else in the realms actually could.

“
It’s amazing,” Dahlia told
her.

“
Thanks,” Evie said. “Let’s
have a seat.” She led the way to the table and as they approached,
a tea set, cakes, cookies, and other pastries appeared atop it. At
once, Dahlia could smell them. They were steaming fresh.

And just like that, she felt both agitated
and frustrated.

Evie sat down, but froze when she noticed
that Dahlia had hesitated behind her. Something akin to
understanding dawned on the Vampire Queen’s features. “I recommend
the double chocolate chip. You’ll recognize some of your own
chocolate in that one.”