Page 4 of Queen of Shadows and Roses
‘Are you alright?’ The demon’s eyes narrowed, studying me with unnerving intensity. His voice struck something inside me—strangely familiar, like a memory brushing just out of reach.
‘Mhm,’ I squeaked.
‘And you’—he turned back to the Lamia—‘have displeased me… greatly.’
‘Your Highness.’ The Lamia trembled, her jaw slack.
I attempted to summon my magic, the magic I wedged deep within me; I felt it bubbling, and his head whipped around as he squinted at me. ‘Don’t.’ The magic inside me fizzled out—I wassogonna die.
The stranger raised his arm, and a tattoo lifted from his skin, floating through the air and dropping to the ground. It transformed into a mass—a gigantic mass—of a dog with three heads. My brain seemed to have slowed down completely. It wouldn’t process what was happening.
‘Oh my God,’ I croaked.
‘Gods.’ A sardonic smile twisted his lips, sending a shudder through me.
The dog’s heads were almost as tall as I was, and it was brutal. Its fur was the colour of obsidian, and when six blood-red eyes turned my way… I whimpered softly. My heart hammered in my ears, making my head swim with fright, but the three heads cocked to the side as they studied me, and as those crimson eyes left me and swung back to study the Lamia, Iswallowed thickly. The Lamia let out a small screech, quivered, and raised her arms in surrender.
Holy fucktarts.
I took that as my cue to leave. I struggled to my feet and ran.
‘Wait!’ yelled the beautiful demon, but adrenaline danced through my veins, propelling me faster, leaving his curses bouncing off the alley walls.
My dreamthat night was the recurring dream I’d had over the past year. It was always the same place—one I didn’t recognise… I found myself back in the ethereal garden. The emotions I felt here were alien but good. I didn’t know the garden, but I sensed a connection to it on some weird level.
The garden was a wide-open space brimming with blooms of countless colours, with black marble walkways scattered symmetrically amid the perfect flowerbeds. A copse of cypress trees encircled the garden; their fresh, woody fragrance filled the breeze. The vibrant, cheerful colours of an enormous patch of narcissus always made me smile.
As I wandered around, I trailed my fingers over the flowers, and nature's electricity tingled through my fingertips. Lipstick-pink peonies adorned the fringes of the garden, while honeysuckle festooned the trellises, a swarm of butterflies flitting around them, swirling in an array of exquisite colours.
Climbing roses, with clusters of abundant silken petals and green stems copiously armed with sharp thorns, infused my nose with their misty sweetness. Their paradox—the softness and beauty of the flowers, paired with the pain of the thorns—made them one of my favourite blooms.
The aroma of petrichor permeated the air—a potpourri of scents creating a sensory explosion. The full glory of the garden’s colours and fragrances made my soul sing with pleasure. As the lullaby of the breeze whispered in my ears, I sighed happily, and moved to the next flowerbed, inhaling deeply.
The tinkling sound of water was pure therapy. In the centre of the beautiful garden, on a grassy expanse, sat a pond teeming with lily pads and water lilies. In the middle of the enormous circular pond rose a lovely fountain with water cascading around a large pedestal—sculpted in the shape of two giant, intricately carved serpents, their bodies entwined in a sort of slow dance.
‘Hello again, Persephone,’ the deep, lyrical voice I was waiting for said to me as I spun around. I imagined from his tone that he’d be like one of the swoon-worthy men from my novels.
‘Why won’t you reveal yourself?’ I asked as I sat and lazily dipped my fingers into the water.
‘We shall meet soon, my queen.’
I laughed. He always called me ‘my queen’. ‘That sounds nice,’ I murmured. ‘If you’re half as sexy as your voice, I can’t wait.’Lord, have mercy; I love this dream.
‘See you soon, sweetness,’ he breathed in my ear, and my heart skipped a beat.
I blinkedawake as the world snapped into focus. My fists clenched the downy comforter, knuckles white, while the memories of last night slammed into me like a wrecking ball. The fear. The adrenaline. The utter chaos. It simmered beneath the surface now, momentarily dulled—but those eyes...
Those eyes still haunted me. And they freaked me the hell out.
My housemate Tee had been home when I’d returned. She almost had a nervous breakdown at the state of me, but as always, she poured me a generous glass of wine, magicked a red velvet cake from somewhere, and calmed me down. Obviously, I couldn’t tell her the entire truth… battling a demon? Nope. So, I concocted a cock-and-bull story about some guy with weird blue and gold eyes scaring me. She gave me a perplexed look but didn’t press further.
My gaze landed on my laptop and a stack of books on my desk. My forthcoming days off would be filled with reading and book blogging. Aside from nature, books were my next level of therapy—an escape into another world—and, let’s face it, men are so much better in books. The tall, dark, devastatingly handsome, you-are-the-object-of-all-my-desires man of your dreams only ever happens in romance novels. Who needs spice in real life?
Releasing a long breath, I slid from my bed and made my way to the ensuite, deciding a long soak in the bath would soothe my aching muscles. I’d inherited my home from my only family member… my gran. She was as mad as a box of frogs, butthebest person. Plus, a powerful witch and former leader of the Council of Magic.
We eventually moved to London from New York when I was fourteen, after… I tried never to think of the reason for our move. That incident was buried deep in my subconscious, along with the dark magic I couldn’t control. Gran had passed away when I was seventeen, and I still missed her like crazy.
The house is lovely—a four-bedroom Victorian terraced dwelling on Milner Square in Islington. The issue was that I couldn’t afford to maintain it alone—enter Tee and Matt, my housemates.
