Page 1 of Tricky Princess
1
Rosier
ONE WEEK WITHOUT ELLEA
“How do I get to her?” The question was a growl as he sank the blade further into the demon’s chest. Blood gushed from its mouth. “How do I save her?”
Each stab became more desperate, more feral, as he slipped further and further into the depths of his dark soul. He would live in the pits of shadows and death if it meant he got the answers he needed.
“I can’t…” It was a pained groan as it tried to get the words out. Ros ripped the blade from him only to plunge it in again. “I told you—”
The demon’s words were cut off by his own sobs, tears mixing with the blood that coated his face. They always got to this point, losing all their vile pride, their disgusting comments turning into cries for mercy. Soon, he would beg for his life, but it didn’t matter. This one had nothing more to give; even if Ros got the answers he sought, it would end up dead in the end.
Slowly, Ros sunk his obsidian dagger into the commander’s chin, its sharp point breaking through bone and tissue with a sickening crunch. The sound mixed with the demon’s final rattling gurgles. Then there were only the heavy breaths that heaved through Ros’ chest as visions of Ellea’s frightened face flashed before his eyes.
An empty glass dangled from his hand as Ros glared out the window of Ellea’s library, the too-small chair biting into his tired muscles. Muscles that had hunted and killed for the past seven days.
Seven fucking days without her.
He brought the glass to his lips for another sip, but growled when no amber liquid was there to wash away the taste of rage that coated his mouth. He stood only to stumble a few shuffling steps before he caught the wall by the fireplace, the rough-cut stone grating on his hand. He steadied himself but couldn’t help the urge to throw something. The house intervened—probably tired of the messes he’d made in his countless fits of rage—and filled his glass.
“Good house.” He blinked slowly as he brought the glass to his lips. His mouth instantly watered. The drink had a light, earthy taste with a hint of citrus and lime. “A fucking margarita?”
His lip curled, and the emptiness of the cabin washed over him. His powers answered with a splintering rage. Ellea was in Hel, alone, and only the Gods knew what she was going through. Shadows crept up the walls as he relived each of the last seven days and his failed attempts to save her. His shadows curled around him, trying to hide him as his eyes burned with shame and frustration. All of this power, and he couldn’t get to her.
He whirled and threw the drink into the fireplace. It was her favorite drink, and that was enough to set him on yet another spiral. The flames erupted as a roar came from deep in his chest, and the house shook around him. He forced a breath down; demolishing the house wouldn’t help. Another breath, and the lights stopped their shuddering. A tink sounded in the empty room as a glass appeared before him.
“This better be bourbon.”
Silence answered as he hesitantly brought the glass to his lips. A deep oak flavor exploded in his mouth and warmed his still heaving chest. “Better.”
Ros had been throwing things all week, more so since Felix and Jadis left two days ago. They’d been brought here as soon as Ellea was taken. Well, as soon as Ros had realized he couldn’t portal directly to Hel to save her from his father. Ros had gone straight to her family with help from Billy. He was able to portal to Halifax, but not to Hel. It should have been easy; that dark realm was a constant pull on his soul. With a single thought, he should have been able to step into his shadows and out into the castle he knew too well. The connection now felt severed, its edges frayed and impossible to piece back together. If his father wanted him home so desperately, he was making it hard.
Jadis and Felix surprisingly didn’t blame him. They were upset, beyond upset, and had stayed as long as possible while planning and learning all they could about Hel. Like most witches, they hadn’t been paying attention to the old ways or any other supernaturals. The council eventually called them back to meet about the situation, not that it would help. He was the only one who could do anything about it, or so he thought. Ros shifted his shoulders as more rage washed down his back. He finished his drink in an angry gulp, and the home instantly filled it before he could put it down.
Taking a smaller sip, he paced. There had to be another way, a spell or a demon he hadn’t thought about, one he hadn’t killed. Garm was no use either, his own abilities blocked. He internally cursed the hound even if it wasn’t his fault.
A door slammed open. “Speaking of the bastard.” Ros readied his glare as the sleek black body of his oldest friend crossed the threshold, his lover trotting close behind.
Fucking Hel, Billy cursed inside his head.
Both beasts slowly walked into the library, matching Ros’ glare with their own as they sniffed the air. Garm grimaced, his large sharp teeth showing as his lips curled.
Who did you kill now? Garm asked. And when was the last time you showered?
Ros looked down at himself, wondering why Garm sounded so judgmental. His hands were clean, but everywhere else was splattered with black blood.
“I summoned one of Beelzebub’s lower commanders.” He paused to shake his empty glass in the air. It slowly filled, and he gulped most of the contents before continuing on to explain what his uncle’s commander had had to say. “Questioned him for a bit, tortured him for a bit longer, and he finally spilled some minor details.”
They watched him drink down the rest of his glass. He swayed where he stood, and Billy rushed to push a chair under him before he fell.
Enough! Garm commanded, and the house listened, refusing to fill his glass. Ros glared. Get on with it, boy. What did the bastard say?
Ros rubbed his face. He had been drinking for the past hour to try and forget what the vile piece of shit had said. His laughter still rang in his head, along with the sound of his final moments. It was the only demon out of the twenty or more he’d hunted that had news or a whisper of Ellea.
“Ellea is still alive, but she won’t be able to evade them for much longer. The fucker said something about the demons in my father’s court keeping her preoccupied.”
Billy’s snarl shook the frames that lined the walls. Her wild anger answered his own.
