The Demon King (9 page)

“
The Akyri have certain
powers. As their king, you will of course have developed these
powers in full by this point. But I’m guessing you’ve developed a
good deal
more
.”

Now Detective Steven Lazarus seemed to grow
larger, his presence more ominous. His look turned cold as ice.
“Who are you?” he asked darkly.

Bael answered quickly. “My
name is Bael. I’m a messenger in your father’s court.” In truth,
he
had
been a
messenger in the Demon King’s court, but he was no longer. He’d
been assigned a task most messengers could only dream of. He was
here as the detective’s personal servant now. Bael of the Blood
Moon Valley was officially right-hand to the
prince
.

Not that the Detective had any idea, and it
would be a while before Bael would tell him as much because it
would be a while before Steven Lazarus would accept it. So, what
was the point? And the job was becoming dangerous enough as it was.
Bael was beginning to worry. He could feel the detective’s power
swelling, building up. It was so much more than warlock magic. It
was pure and base and primordial, and though Lazarus didn’t know
it, it was capable of the kinds of things warlocks could only
dream. Well focused and developed, it could level a city.

“
Oh?” the detective asked
with a raised brow. His tone felt like razors along Bael’s skin,
shaving dangerously close. “And if not Marius, who pray tell
would
that
be?”

“
My lord Astaroth,” said
Bael without ceremony. “The Demon King.”

Chapter Nine

Dahlia transported out of the cave with Evie
at her side, then said her goodbyes and headed to her neck of the
Unseelie Realm via another transport. By the time she’d altogether
left the impossible magic that was Evie’s cavern, the
Tuath-fae-vampire was stuffed on everything from cupcakes to
creampuffs to about a gallon of tea and milk. It was a feeling
she’d never imagined she would be fortunate enough to feel
again.

There was a bounce to her inhuman step as
she made her way down the path that led to her new home. The path
wound through one of the darker forests in the Unseelie Realm.
Around another few bends, she would come upon a copse of trees to
her right that seemed impassable.

She would push past those trees using magic
that made them part, and a new path would appear. That path would
be lined with some of her favorite blooms, such as the poppies from
the mortal world, and vellum from the fae realms. She would then
take that second path until she was in the Karethlare Swamps, where
her small, private cottage awaited her on a tiny island shrouded by
fog and mists and a thick canopy of overhanging vines and tree
branches that completely blocked out the sun.

A fenced back yard contained a tiny cobbled
stone path that wound through hundreds of blooms of different
sizes, shapes and colors. It was a paradise, if a tiny one. This
island cabin was a magical place just like Evie’s hideaway. However
it was much smaller, much cozier, and absolutely no one but Dahlia
knew it existed.

Dahlia’s step slowed. All at once, she
wondered whether she should reciprocate and tell Evie about her
cottage. As a show of thanks and of faith. It wouldn’t hurt her
friendship, that’s for sure. And these days… friendship was
something Dahlia wouldn’t turn away.

The cottage was protected
by layer upon layer of magic that shielded it from the sun and
scrying spells. Of course, there was the overhang as well,
which
looked
to
be made of plants, but was actually stronger than thick metal. It
was the perfect little escape for a vampire. Should Evie ever find
herself in need of a quick place to hide, this would do the trick.
And Dahlia wanted to repay the Vampire Queen for her
kindness.

“
And for the chocolate,”
she added out loud. She stopped in her path and closed her eyes,
imagining the table in front of her topped with mountains of
pastries. She smiled. Then she opened her eyes to find a white stag
standing majestic and shimmering less than ten feet away on the
path in front of her.

“
Oh,
what
the-” Dahlia cried, her eyes
wide, her heart thumping.

The forest was quiet. The stag turned its
head just a little, as if amused by her reaction.

It was a stunning creature; there was no
animal like this in the mortal realm. Its coat was so white, it
imparted a soft glow and was surrounded by an aura. It was tall,
proud, and majestic, with horns that spiraled three feet above its
head and were covered with gemstones of rainbow hues from the blue
of sapphires to the yellow of canary diamonds. They shimmered like
prisms where rays of moonlight struck them.

The animal appeared to have been sliced from
the moon and deposited in the earthly realms like a fallen star.
The eyes gazing at her so steadily were reflective, mimicking the
snow of a mid-winter blizzard, even now in June. Flecks of light in
the irises literally moved, swirling and swaying like the
multitudinous flakes in a December storm. It was a wondrous
creature in every respect.

And Dahlia was not amused.

She knew all too well what this animal was –
and what it represented. The fact that two of the three warlocks
who made up her triad coven had become queens was not lost on
Dahlia. She was the only one left, and she wasn’t stupid. She felt
the wolf sniffing at the door and knew the first shoe had dropped
long ago.

The Tuath Stag was a solitary creature well
beyond rare. There was only one in all the realms. It was said to
show itself to those who were meant for great things. It was a
guide, a symbol, and an omen.

That was the grade school version of the
Story of the Tuath Stag.

Dahlia, who had studied the
creature with earnest since she was a child, knew a little more.
Legend told that the blood of the Tuath Stag ran through the veins
of the most powerful, most influential fae. However, what she knew
that few others did was that the Stag’s heart was wild and unruly.
It did appear, seemingly at random, before a fae of importance –
but
only
to a fae
who had tasted power’s darker, more potent side... and who wanted
more.

The Tuath Stag had appeared to Selene
Trystaine just before the Wisher had taken her place at the Seelie
King’s side. Dahlia knew why. She knew why the Stag had appeared
before Selene and not her sister, Minerva, even though the two had
become the twin queens of the Seelie and Unseelie Realms.

Selene had been filled with anger and a
desperate need for justice, and this need had sent her on a rampage
of vigilantism through the mortal realm. Yet she was unsatisfied.
Because, as so many often did after such sprees, she realized that
the general evil of the world was greater than it appeared to be,
and that revenge did not make it go away. It couldn’t.

In this painful moment where great power met
the chaos of empathetic emptiness, the Stag had looked into her
eyes, and their hearts had beat as one.

Dahlia gazed at the Tuath
Stag in all of its breathtaking beauty, and her blood heated. She
had wanted to see one since she’d been a little girl. So many, many
years ago.
Centuries
to go ungratified, her needs and wishes left wilting like
unpicked flowers. So many centuries that she’d stopped counting
them.

And here it was.
Now
. When she couldn’t
stand the sight of it because she knew what it meant and she was
done with fate fucking her over.

“
No way,” she hissed. Her
words came out like a threat, like a promise, and like an epitaph
to sanity. “
No!
”
she yelled, balling her hands into fists at her sides. There was no
way in the nine hells this was going to happen – not to
her.

But the Stag seemed unfazed by her
reprisal.

“
I make my own choices, do
you hear me?” she said, taking a step toward the beast. She
expected it to bolt, to get scared and run off. She hoped it would,
in fact. She wanted her words to rest over it like a shroud and
teach it a lesson. She was so fed up with fate telling women what
to do, deciding their existences for them, and shoving them into
roles that were pre-chosen! From arranged marriages to societal
roles to glass ceilings – to this. It wasn’t for her! She’d had
enough of being picked on! “Get out of here! Go find someone else
to play house in your little games! I will not be owned!” she
yelled, placing the most emphasis on her final sentence.

She took another threatening step, but the
Stag only turned its head slightly and seemed to watch her with
even more interest. Moonlight shimmered on its multicolored gems, a
dazzling display of otherworldly beauty. She was half tempted to
just stand still and stare at it, to take in all of its exquisite
splendor. She’d been wanting to see one forever, after all.

But there was too much fire
in her blood, and she was fueled by magical pastries and tarts, and
there was so much sugar running through her at that moment, it
just
had
to go
somewhere anyway. So she bared her teeth, allowing her fangs to
extend and fully show. She let the dark power into her eyes and
felt them begin to glow.

“
I will not be your
puppet,” she hissed. Her power-laden voice echoed eerily in the
dark forest. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, but rang out
like tendrils of power. “I’ve been there and I’ve done that.” She
shook her head, just once. “You’ve chosen the wrong
queen.”

Now the Stag lifted its
mighty head, and she saw the snowflakes in its gaze twist and spin
in a new flurry wind. She felt something brush against her in the
moonlight, something almost solid in its magical weight. But rather
than the anger she expected, the retaliation she was all but
certain she would receive from the mighty beast, the contact felt
almost pleasant. For just a few strange moments, the world became
surreal. She felt light. She felt…
good
.

She felt, even, accepted.

Then the beast turned and did what she’d
been trying to make it do from the moment it had appeared. It leapt
to life, bounding over the bushes on one side of the path, and
disappearing into the forest beyond.

Dahlia had no idea what to make of the last
few seconds. But she sure as hell knew what to make of the
encounter altogether.

She wasn’t queen material,
and she didn’t want to be. She didn’t even know any of the
remaining kings personally! Hell, some of them she had never even
met! She would
not
be tricked into running a nation she cared positively
nothing
about. “I am not
one of the Thirteen,” she told the world forcefully. “You’ve got
the wrong girl. And I’m going to prove it.”

Chapter Ten

You’re
insane
. That was what Laz wanted to say to
the man. That was the instinctive sentence that formed on his
tongue, but was never released into the air. He kept it
immobilized, just resting there on his taste buds, because it
didn’t make any sense. It would have been a lie. There was nothing
insane about the man before him. His short cropped hair was bright
orange red, and the brown-red velvet blazer he was wearing was
definitely distinctive and –
different
. But he wasn’t crazy. Laz
would recognize that.

There was simply something very, very
inhuman about the guy.

“
Give me a reason to
believe you,” Laz demanded plainly. He didn’t of course – believe
him. But this man Bael was something magical, and as one of the
Thirteen, it was more or less Laz’s duty to get to the bottom of
any supernatural mystery. And he
was
a detective.

“
I can give you many,” Bael
said, opening his hands. “But if one is all you require, then take
this.” He waved his right hand as a magician would, and a white
card appeared between his thumb and forefinger. It looked to be a
business card.

He held it up and waited patiently.

Laz weighed his options. In the end, he
lowered his gun and slid it back into his shoulder holster. It
might have seemed immediately silly to many supernaturals that he
had chosen to aim his gun at a paranormal threat in the first
place. What good was a bullet against a vampire or a fae? But the
bullets in his gun’s chamber were not what you would call strictly
regulation.

Laz stepped forward and
took the card from the man’s outstretched hand. Bael smiled and
lowered his arm. “The message I’ve actually come to deliver is that
you’re in danger, Detective. Your father has many enemies, some
more powerful than others. One in particular has been a thorn in
Astaroth’s side for millennia. Now despite your father’s best
efforts, his enemy has learned of your existence. I suspect your
becoming one of the Thirteen Kings had something to do with that.
Regardless, he knows who and what you are, and he will do anything
to destroy your father. Destroying
you
would be a very good start. Be
on your guard. I will be waiting should you have any questions,
Detective. You need but call my name.”

With that, the man who
claimed to be a messenger in a demon king’s court stepped back –
and vanished. He didn’t sink into the shadows as a vampire or
unseelie or warlock would. He didn’t transport away in a swirling,
color-melting portal. One second he was there, and the next he
wasn’t.
Poof
.