Page 103 of Demonic Cage
“Have you told him this?”
He blinks at me in surprise.
“That I’m hard when I look at him? Of course.”
“Not that,” I say, smiling inadvertently. “But that you can’t articulate why you like him because you simply… love him.”
Nárs’s facial muscles twitch, and I hold my breath. Neither Nárs nor Lizander looks back at me – it’s someone in between the two.
I quickly intertwine my fingers with those of this someone, and lean in with a smile.
“Come on,” I say, planting a kiss on their cheek. “Let’s watch the ritual.”
The demon shudders, and a moment later, I know Nárs has returned.
A child appears, whom Darya transforms in minutes, and the weak Léthé sprinkles the River of Oblivion once more. The monsters roar, welcoming the child into the crowd, then techno music resumes.
Vines curl around my chair, settling next to my armrest, bearing clusters of grapes. Smiling, I compete with Nárs to see who can eat the most. After another successful ritual, Sylla sits beside us, but I only notice her after hearing the hissing of her snakes near my ear. Slowly, I turn my head to the side, gazing at the tiara on her head. The red eyes watch me, but nothing happens. I feel like something should be… something…
Bengt…
He’s my brother…
How could I forget about him?
I can’t figure it out. The Demon King steps up to me and presses his arm against my lips. A sip. Another. I smile again. The blood drips from the corners of my mouth, and I flash my iron-tasting teeth at Nárs, who oozes envy.
“Do you want some?” I ask, and without hesitation, he seals his lips against mine. The kiss is gentle, but his lips sting. We tilt our heads back simultaneously, leaning into each other, feeling the heat caused by the blood.
“Alright,” he begins, “if you don’t sleep with Darya tonight, I will.”
I laugh while opening my eyes to look straight at the Kraldem, who’s conversing with Kripot again. The Demon King doesn’t even glance at us, unperturbed by our earlier kiss.
“Why are they talking so much?”
For the first time tonight, Nárs’s face creases into angry wrinkles.
“The herebias. They’re breaking into Filizi from all sides. Kripot is helping to rally the forces, isn’t he sweet? Lizander helps during the day, but the matricide committer isn’t available right now.”
“Why did he kill your mother?” The question slips out of me.
Nárs crosses his arms and legs, shaking his head from side to side.
“That woman forced that wretched beast to feed from her tits until he was thirteen, then locked him in a room and gave him only a mirror. For years, he only had himself to talk to.” He flashes an evil smile at me. “Thus, I was born.”
A demon howls and crashes into the throne, the music still booming within the volcano.
“You… you know you’re not the original?” Until now, I thought Nárs had no idea he was a creation.
The man shrugs.
“I was born out of desire. Why wouldn’t I be original?”
I ponder this, and images from the Desire Mirrors flash through my mind.
“Nárs,” I say, addressing him. He looks at me. “I’d kill a mother like that, too.”
The man cackles loudly.
