CHAPTER ELEVEN
SCATHE
Scathe's shadowy form roiled like hot tar, and he snapped to flesh in hell.
He'd been a fool to think Eirienna cared. That his life, or he, could mean anything to her. That a Fae woman could be interested in him, other than for a few hours of mindless coupling.
The fear and disdain in her eyes stung his blackened heart. To her, he was a fiend. A liar. A monster. He'd wanted to be better for her.
Had
been better for her.
And she'd thrown it in his face.
He liked the irony of knowing the soul he left behind would protect her.
His
soul. The soul of the monster that disgusted her. One day, she would figure out what added to her power. Especially now that their magics had been so thoroughly mixed. He hoped guilt gnawed at her, and she suffered for the rest of her life.
Time he acted like the monster she thought he was. He conjured his blade in a storm of black sparks. It gleamed in his hand, shiny metal of death. He groped invisible fingers through the burning air, dragging in every ounce of power he could summon. The light dimmed, and the air shrieked.
Wriggling creatures squirmed and died, giving up their life force to feed his spell. His blade burst into black flames that licked hungrily up his arm with an evil cackle of vengeance.
Dark corridors. The reek of rusty iron and pain. Screams shattered the dark, the results of torment demons doing their bloody work. Metaphysical shackles locked him down.
He stalked down the stone steps, kicking struggling squirming things and twisted, mutated wisps from his path. They squealed in terror.
Ancient soul remnants, tortured beyond endurance, had reverted to their primal state. The Empress' idea of fun. She was a demon of greed, twisted foul by centuries of jealous rages. He kicked more squealing monstrosities aside.
Let her grind these creatures to screaming pulp.
He'd do his bitch of an Empress' bidding one last time. Pleasure her. Lick her clawed feet. Tear his own skin off. Whatever it took. The humiliation he suffered at Eirienna's hands was worse than anything the Empress could do to him.
While the Empress reveled in his suffering, she wouldn't be expecting an attack. And if he failed and perished...well, who gave a fuck?
Not the world.
Not Eirienna.
Certainly not him.
Scathe charged up the steps to the Empress' ornate, carved stone throne room, pausing when icy air blasted his skin. He vanished himself and his sword into shadow when voices drifted to him.
Anything cold didn't belong in this world. He tasted the energy.
Fae. A Hunter.
The betrayer was here.
He drifted closer, intrigued. The Empress' bony body was wrapped in a long black gown. Firelight flickered through the high arched windows, making her paper-thin skin transparent. She resembled a desiccated corpse.
Fragile cheekbones, dry fevered eyes the color of rubies. White hair hung lank over her shoulder to her emaciated waist. A faded, rotting princess, once a thing of terrifying beauty, now just an empty shell, animated by hatred and greed.
"What do you mean, no?" the Empress screeched. "We have a deal!"
"And I'm changing it," said the Fae coolly. "Without me, you've got nothing. You would do well to remember that." He sauntered forward. Brown hair pulled back neatly, cold steel-gray eyes, sword sheathed on his back.
Scathe breathed a sigh, reluctantly impressed.
You greedy little bastard. It was you all along.
The Empress sneered. "And without me --"
"Without you, I lack nothing," Augisto said airily. "There are other demons I can make a deal with. You're the one who's starving. Give me everything I want, or you won't escape this world."
The Empress was starving. Used up. Her power waning. Scathe knew that well. She'd used him to feed herself with his pain, but it wasn't enough anymore. She needed fresh human souls, and a lot of them.
How had the Hunter found out? Why was he selling out an entire human world and The Wild Hunt?
The Empress shrieked, and demi-demons screamed, exuding the stench of death.
Augisto picked at his fingernails, a study in utter nonchalance.
Little fucker was brave. Scathe had to give him that.
She subsided with a glare fit to rot a human's skin. "What do you want?"
"The rift in the portal is almost ready. I want what you promised."
"Eternal life." She sneered. "Yes, yes. What else?"
"The Hunter Eirienna. I want her."
Scathe's shadow form coiled, a black serpent of fury ready to strike.
Eirienna likes you. She thinks you're her friend. Should've chewed your throat out when I had the chance.
"Not negotiable," snarled the Empress. "All the Hunters and their magic imbued souls are mine --"
"Not mine, and not that one." Augisto folded his arms, skin gleaming in the sultry firelight. "I want her soul. Her magic. Everything. Or no deal."
The Empress laughed. "You in love, boy? How pathetic."
Augisto's gaze didn't drop. Didn't defrost. "Claiming what's mine. You should understand that."
Her hungry eyes gleamed, and the air crackled, electric with her ages-old greed. "Very well. Now --"
"One more thing." A cunning smile. "You and I get along well. When we win, I want that chair." He pointed at where her twisted throne of petrified skulls and bones sat -- and the smaller seat beside it.
The Consort's chair. Scathe's chair. He felt like laughing. The Hunter was fucking welcome to it.
"I already have a Consort," the Empress snapped.
"Really? Didn't seem like it an hour ago when he was fucking Eirienna's brains out."
"What?" Her rage lit stinking flames along the walls. "He wouldn't dare. He's mine!"
Augisto shrugged. "So sad. Only one thing worse than a faithless lover, if you ask me."
"And what's that?"
Augisto smiled darkly. "A happy couple."
The Empress laughed, and the air rained ashes.
He leaned closer to her, hands behind his back. "Scathe's plotting against you. I can help with that. Set a trap for him. Shouldn't be hard with him so distracted."
"Mmm?" The Empress licked peeling lips.
"I bring you Scathe, you give me Eirienna. You get your souls, I get this chair -- and the power that goes with it. Fawning minions, demon hordes at my bidding. That sort of thing." He sat on the throne and crossed his leather-clad legs, resting his elbows on the skulls. "Everyone wins."
Scathe shook his head. He'd thought the very same thing, once.
Careful what you ask for, Fae. Everything has a cost.
The Empress' fingers lit with hungry flame. "And your blood, sweet Prince?" she crooned. "What of your blood?"
Your fresh, young, living blood
. Scathe shuddered. Her thirst for youth was insatiable. Augisto better look to himself if he wanted to survive.
Augisto shot her a cold gray stare. "Maybe. If you ask me right."
"And how's that?"
"Naked on your knees would be a start."
She laughed. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Fae."
"Oh, I haven't begun."
She leered, and drool slipped down her wasted chin. "Everyone wins," she lisped, and laughed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EIRIENNA
Eirienna stalked beneath skeletal trees in the park, senses and temper ablaze. Shadows -- every one a potential threat -- danced everywhere. Distracting reminders of Scathe.
His tendrils stroking her. His skin's dark flavor. The rough delight of his kiss. Shadowy embraces.
Forget him.
Her grip tightened on her blade. The dry air of the park sparked with broken magic. The portal shimmered, dangerously thin, iridescent like oil on water, and the stink of sulfur and brimstone thickened.
Hungry demons cackled and babbled nonsense. Anyone listening too long would go mad. All over the vast park, Hunters stalked in pairs, their signals thrumming along the mental net, tiny insect feet on a benevolent spider's web.
She caught stray words of murmured spells and heartbeats. Ahead of her, Logan and Giselle, almost silent, their swift thoughts in concert.
She couldn't look at them and turned away.
The Wild Hunt was laying a trap for the demons, but it was perilous work. Everyone was tense with anticipation for the coming fight.
Augisto, where are you?
she sent. While she was still irritated with him, it was all hands on deck for the battle tonight.
"Right with you." Augisto oozed from the shadows, icy sword drifting low.
Eirienna swore. She hadn't sensed him. This thing with Scathe was making her careless at the worst possible time to lose her edge. "Where have you been?" she whispered fiercely. "I waited for an hour."
"Checking out the signs." He nodded at the darkness in the center of the park, where a stand of trees lay smothered in shadow. "The latest trail leads there."
"Right." She flexed rigid shoulders and marched in that direction. "Let's go."
"Eirienna, wait." He touched her arm, a warm shock, and his frosty gaze melted. "Listen. I'm sorry for being such a prick the other night, I mean. You can do whatever you want, it's none of my business. I just..."
Did his cheeks color? Was he blushing?
She squirmed. "Look, it's okay --"
"I just want what's best for you, Erie. I always have." A flash of his old sheepish smile. "Oh, crap. Did I just blurt out some best-friend, faithful-sidekick shit?"
