Page 18 of The Demon's Fire
Near the time of the Karmic Schism, Ohngel, the warrior-prophet and winged assassin of the OneCreator, delivered a dictum, dooming me and the Blood Coven to isolation from our kind. After the event, we and our offspring were to remain on Earth, scattered and hidden, ostracized from our breed. He assured me the measure was necessary.
Though disheartened by the pronouncement, I remained true, submerging my personal needs beneath the desire to save the many. With my coven, I created three realms from one world: Earth for humans, Scath for my Aeternals, and Darque for dangerous magical creatures. Afterward, we went our own way, isolated from our kind on Scath and cut off from one another.
Jace closed the book. “You’re not paying any attention, roomie.”
“You’re right. I need action.”
Jace nodded, dropping the volume onto the table beside her.
Celene sprang off the couch, doubled up her fists, and stormed toward the locked door. She and Jace de Vries had waited, talked over the pros, the cons, steeled their resolve to devise a plan. It was time to take the first step.
After all, she was a daredevil, an adrenaline junkie who had base jumped Angel Falls in Venezuela, run with the bulls in Pamplona, and skied Delirium Dive in Banff. She didn’t have the patience to sit around forever, listening to some dusty old stories.
Though her latest endeavor hadn’t ended well, the jump had been successful. It was when she touched ground that everything turned to shit. In the landing zone at the bottom of Angel Falls, Celene had been zapped with a stun gun and kidnapped, awakening in a dingy, cold cell, guarded by aliens or something. It was a nightmare, from which she still had not recovered. Now she was here. Imprisoned.
Jace’s experience had been even more horrific. According to her, a monster had abducted her from New Paltz, NY, where she worked in a winery, having studied viticulture and enology at Cornell. The asswipe kept her locked in a stinky, damp cellar. Though she escaped from the first hellhole, she was re-captured. That’s when she learned vampires were real. A crazy one was sucking on her neck.
Both women landed here where they each had a bedroom and adjoining private bath, a shared sitting area with a TV, a kitchen, and dining room. Wherever here was. The surroundings may have been better than their original cells, but they were still prisoners, held captive by creatures Celene once pooh-poohed. They had books. A lot of DVDs. They created their own exercise routines, cooked, made tubs of buttered popcorn to go with the films, and talked endlessly. Each day dragged on, though, until she could no longer bear the boring pattern of her life.
Jace, equally disheartened, had come up with the plan.
Celene pounded on the door with both fists. “Hey out there. Dickhead, get in here now.” She took her shoe off, using it to bang louder. “I’m not stopping.”
She heard a loud, deep snarl from the other side. “Get back.”
“No.” She continued making a racket.
“I’m coming in. Back the hell up.”
A six-foot-six massive creature slammed through the opened door, stomping across the floor. “What?” He grabbed Celene’s elbow, flinging her onto the couch.
She rubbed where she was sure to bruise. “We demand to see someone who can give us answers. Where are we? Why are we here?”
The guard laughed, a gruff sound erupting from his mouth. “Not fucking happening.”
“Well then, we’re going to be in for a fun time, asswipe.”
ChapterFive
DuringKole’s absence, Skyler studied his office. She assumed the well-worn massive wooden table in the adjoining room was where he strategized with his Firebrands. On its visual journey, her gaze swung to the weapons mounted on the wall behind his desk.
A barbarian would proudly display gruesome killing implements. The blood of his victims probably still dirtied the blades. How many people had this brute killed? Too many to count.
She gestured toward the weapons. “Those. Do they belong to Commander Kole?”
“No.” Bounty ambled to the wall. “They belonged to hisfrerons.” She pointed at one weapon. “The incubus commander before Kole owned this scythe.” She touched another. “The trident was a favorite of an Amazon queen, a warrior who fought by Kole’s side for a century until a bludfrenzied vamp ripped off her head.”
“And those?” Skyler stepped alongside her, pointing at a pair of strange blades. The grip was in the center, the weapon meant to be held like a baton. A gold band with writing on it encircled the shiny metaled hilt, or handle, in the middle. Off each side was a slightly curved double-edge blade. They were graceful, beautiful, and most likely deadly, but she admired them as works of art.
“Those are haladies, dangerous tools in the right hands. This one was in the hands of Kole’s father. The hilt is inscribed with his name, Aedon. The weapon next to it belonged to his mother, Hestia. They used the same style blades, fighting side-by-side for centuries. Together in life. Together in death.”
Skyler returned to the chair, crossing her legs, smoothing her skirt. She tried to reconcile the gruff, fearless soldier Kole with a boy, laughing, playing games, being tucked in at night by his parents. She couldn’t.
A growl came from the doorway. The demon leaned an immense shoulder against the frame. Spotting him, Bounty pointed to a white-handled, curved blade. “The Scion Firebrand Wynny owned this one. The Phoenix called her to serve at the same time Kole was a rookie. Right, Commander?” She paused. Then, with a hand pressed to her lips, she chuckled. “The warriors still talk about your first meeting with her. Rumor says you told her most witches were petty wand waggers?”
Kole nodded. “I did. In my defense, I was young and stupid. Wynny’s fingers flew out in front of her innocent, freckled face. She wiggled them around, giving me an angelic grin before she cast a spell. An ugly rash covered my chest, oozing shit for a week. Couldn’t even wear a shirt. Put me in my place, but it gave me a whole new respect for mages. Afterward, she and I were closefrerons.”
Bounty pivoted toward Skyler, her smile fading. “Commander Kole takes each weapon down on the anniversary of the fallen warrior’s death, polishes, hones it, keeps it in fighting shape.”
