Sloth, p.18
Sloth, page 18
part #4 of The Damning Series
“What the fuck do you mean?” I demanded, pulling the shadows tighter around my body and using them to propel me protectively in front of Z.
Paco didn’t even spare my silhouette a glance as he kneeled beside my mate once more with the two potions in his hands.
“Time to administer more poison,” he answered simply, unscrewing the green bottle.
“What? No!” I knew this was the plan, I knew we’d talked about it, but all I could see were those mages falling to the ground, a perpetual state of grief and agony twisting up their features. They deserved it for the sick and vile things they did, but Z didn’t. Not my sweet mate. Not my little dove. Turning desperately towards Bash, hoping he would back me, I held his gaze and pleaded, “Bash, no! You can’t allow him to do this.”
Bash gritted his teeth together so tightly, I was surprised he didn’t crack a tooth. “We don’t have a choice, Ry. You know Z has to die from the poison in order for the cure to work.”
“You saw what happened to those mages at the brothel.” I was practically pleading at this point, more than willing to fall to my knees if that was what it took to save my little dove from this fate. If I could’ve experienced her pain for her, I would in a heartbeat. But what I couldn’t endure was watching her suffer.
“She needs to return to the capital by…” Bash turned towards the clock on the wall, surprise darkening his features when he discovered it was already one in the morning. “She needs to return to the capital by tonight. We don’t have time to wait.”
My shadows twisted and writhed, hissed and snapped. They felt like live wires about to whip around and electrocute anyone who came too close. They were sentient and dangerous, their sole purpose to protect our oblivious, sleeping mate in the center of the shed.
I lost control of my rage, the full brunt of it pouring out of me in a wave.
“No! I can’t allow you to do this.” Darkness closed in on us from all sides, pushing off the walls like a slow-moving, sticky tar. It crawled across the floor, devouring everything it came into contact with, as panic invaded my lungs.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think.
The anger and fear… They ran through my blood like magma. I was the reaper of death, and anyone who touched me would fall dead at my feet.
“Ryland, calm the fuck down!” Dair demanded as my shadows crawled forward like pitch-black molten lava.
“Ryland!” Killian sounded terrified, but I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.
My shadows had a mind of their own.
The muscles in my shoulders were so tense, they physically spasmed, the full reality of what I was doing wreaking havoc on my insides.
Protect Z.
Worry about the consequences later.
Something sharp stabbed into my neck, and my shadows instantly retreated inside of me. I turned my eyes to Bash, who stared back at me without a flicker of remorse. Betrayal reverberated through me.
“I’m sorry, brother,” he whispered as my body tilted to the side.
I was unconscious before I even hit the ground.
Twenty-One
Z
I was back inside the strange stone palace, once more in an ostentatious green gown that cascaded around my ankles. I brushed impatiently at one of the blonde curls cascading down my shoulder, forcing the unruly strand behind my ear.
Everything was exactly as I remembered it, down to the shattered window that I’d fallen out of. The only difference was the notable absence of Aaliyah.
Where was that bitch hiding?
I spun in a circle, nearly tripping over the trim of my dress, and glared daggers at the fucked-up paintings on the wall. One displayed a woman in a brown dress, her face obscured by a burlap sack. Her hands were tied behind her back, and in the distance, I swore I could see malevolent shadows standing on a hill, watching the woman. I had no idea what the painting was trying to depict, except for a general sense of fuckery, but unease still skirted down my spine. It almost reminded me of a person shuffling their sock-clad feet across carpeting and then reaching out a finger to zap me.
The painting beside it showed a second woman, this one in a drab gray dress, leaning beneath a guillotine. Directly beside her was a bucket full of decaying heads, their eyes vacant and their mouths open in a scream I couldn’t hear. Unlike the first painting, this one displayed the woman’s face clearly—the horror and fear emanating from her eyes, the twist of her features as she awaited death, and the spark of defiance in her cunning smirk. The same number of men that stood on the hill in the first painting surrounded the woman now, though their faces were devoid of any features, as if someone had taken sandpaper and scrubbed off their eyes, nose, lips, and ears.
“Z,” a soft, breathy voice whispered from behind me. I spun, heart racing, to see Mali standing before me.
My entire body froze as if I’d been jolted by electricity. I could barely breathe through the tightening in my throat.
Mali.
My best friend who…
Who betrayed me.
She looked well. Better than she had when I last saw her, fleeing from the scene of Diego’s murder with tears in her eyes. Over the course of the Damning, she’d discovered she was mates to one of the competitors, a sociopath who hadn’t hesitated to kill everyone in his pathway, including innocents. Mali had inadvertently led me to a trap, believing that Zack would make a deal with me.
A bunch of horse shit.
Because of her naïveté, Diego had died, stabbed by the man she claimed to love. I sent her away without a second thought and hadn’t heard or seen from her since.
Until now.
Her brown hair was perfectly coiffed, framing a face that appeared fuller than I remembered it being. Her dewy eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and her hands trembled where they plucked at the skirt of her vibrant red dress. I noticed blood on the corner of her mouth, almost as if she’d just recently partaken in a feeding.
What the fuck was she doing here? With Aaliyah?
The familiar sense of betrayal rushed over me like a swooping, ice-cold tidal wave. It seeped through my skin and embedded itself in my bones and bloodstream.
I knew I had no right to feel this way. I’d sent her away, after all. I couldn’t stand to be around her, knowing that Diego’s blood rested on her hands.
But to know she went crawling to my enemy?
I wanted her to suffer.
“Z.” Mali’s lower lip began to tremble as she took a hesitant step towards me. I automatically countered it with a backwards one of my own, wishing desperately I had some sort of weapon to defend myself if she chose to attack. Hurt flashed in her eyes at my retreat, but instead of commenting on it, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Obviously your bitch of a master brought me here,” I snapped, trying to remember what had happened just before that. My memories were hazy, shifting constantly like someone was repeatedly running their hand through a pool of water, causing them to distort. The last thing I remembered was the brothel…
True fear flashed in Mali’s gaze as she took a few more steps closer. I found that I couldn’t back up any more. My body was already flush against the far wall, and there were no windows in this particular area. I would prefer jumping into the sea below than facing my traitorous best friend.
“Z, there’s so much I need to tell you while you’re here, and I don’t have a lot of time,” Mali began urgently, her eyes flicking in all directions.
“Leave me alone, Mali,” I hissed, but she ignored my acerbic tone and gripped my wrists, her vampire strength rendering me immobile. I could pull away and risk breaking a few bones, or I could hear what she had to say.
The former option sounded pretty appealing right about now…
“The kings have been here to visit Aaliyah,” Mali told me, and I froze, finally giving her my complete attention. “They want her to help them live forever.”
“So it’s true,” I breathed, stunned. “They’re trying to become immortal.”
“Aaliyah made a deal with them,” Mali confirmed, once more glancing in all directions, as if she expected the redhead to be hiding behind the couch. “I don’t know the details of it yet, but I know that the second the kings complete their part, Aaliyah will make them immortal. They won’t die of natural causes, and no man-made weapon will be capable of killing them.”
“Fuck.” We had known about this, of course, but hearing it confirmed had goosebumps rippling across my skin. “What else can you tell me?”
“A lot.” Mali’s eyes turned sharper, shrewd almost, as a wicked grin pulled up her lips. “The bitch trusts me.” She finally released my wrists, seemingly satisfied that I wasn’t going to run away, and continued with her report. I didn’t know if I could trust her, but at this point, I didn’t have a lot of fucking options. Mali, Atta, Axel… I had the distinct impression that one of them was going to betray us, but I had no idea which one. “Aaliyah talks a lot about the prophecy.”
“The one about the princes becoming more powerful than their fathers? And either ending or saving the world?” I questioned, and she nodded.
“She also mentioned…” She hesitated, biting on her lower lip, and I nodded to encourage her to continue. Swallowing, she tried again. “Aaliyah also mentioned that the princes weren’t born. I have no idea what she meant by that, but…”
Icy fear infiltrated my heart as if someone had injected frost into it directly. My mind replayed Tavvy’s final words before Dair killed him.
“If the rumors are true, you and those men you call your brothers magically appeared. Out of thin air.”
From what I’d gathered, Dair hadn’t told any of the others what Tavvy said. And I knew I hadn’t either. I dismissed Tavvy’s words as the ramblings of a crazed, dying man, but if what Mali said was true…
I needed to tell my mates.
“What else?” I asked urgently.
“The basement.” Mali pointed towards a long hallway decorated in metal knights standing at attention. They held swords, javelins, and daggers directly over their hearts.
“What about the basement?”
“It’s where Aaliyah raises her monsters.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s where she has her portal to Hell.”
“What—” Before I could continue my line of inquiry, Mali’s face twisted in surprise and shock a second before she was thrown across the room. I screamed her name, rushing towards her, but she continued to fly backwards down a long hallway until a door slammed shut, hiding her from sight. “Mali!”
“What a traitorous little swine.” Aaliyah’s face twisted into a look of utter disgust as she stomped towards me, her red, revealing dress trailing behind her. The skirt was long, almost resembling a wedding train, but it had two slits up either side, revealing more leg than I ever wanted to see on that she-bitch. Her neckline dipped almost completely to her bellybutton, and her shiny red hair was perfectly straight, giving her a severe, harsh look.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” I hissed out, and I swore something akin to jealousy flashed in her brilliant green gaze.
“You care about that vampire, don’t you? After everything she’s done?” She trailed her fingers over the top of the couch as my gaze followed her with the intensity of a hawk. She didn’t wait for me to answer, not that I would’ve given her one, before continuing, “Why do you hate me, sister of mine?”
“I’m not your sister,” I scoffed, and once more, that white-hot jealousy I noted earlier entered her gaze.
“You don’t have to love me now, Z, but just know that everything I’m doing, everything I have done, has been for you.” Her voice crawled over my skin like an invasion of skittering insects.
“I never asked you to do anything for me,” I snapped, balling my hands into fists. “I don’t want your help.”
“But big sisters don’t always listen,” she retorted, finally removing her hand from the back of the couch to study her red painted nails, the exact same shade of her dress and lips. “They do what’s best for their family.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” I growled out. “I have memories of my mom and dad, and I never saw you in any of them. I think I would remember your ugly mug.”
Rage flashed in her eyes for a brief moment before it immediately simmered away, replaced by amusement. She threw her head back and laughed haughtily, the noise grating on my sensitive nerves.
“Is this what sisters do? Banter?” She cocked her head to the side curiously. “But no matter. To answer your question, of course you wouldn’t remember me. Those…humans were not your real parents.” She pulled her upper lip away from her teeth in disgust.
“Don’t fucking talk about them like that,” I raged, stepping closer and preparing to deck her across the face.
“Why? It’s only the truth, sister.” Sadness darkened her perfect features as she sighed heavily, dropping her gaze to the ground. She hadn’t moved from where she stood beside the couch, though I could see it was taking every ounce of her willpower. I had no idea why she was giving me my space. Because she feared me? Or because she feared my reaction to her? Either option gave me a splitting headache.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I demanded, figuring if she was in a talkative mood, the least she could do was answer my burning questions.
“I just want to get the world back to the way it was before the Sins arrived,” she whispered, and I spotted a single tear cascade down her cheek. When she lifted her head, however, the tear was gone, and I wondered if I’d imagined its presence.
“Before the Sins created nightmares,” I elaborated slowly, terror inflating me like helium in a balloon.
Her lips twisted into a scowl. “You hate nightmares, Z. I know you do.”
“Not all nightmares are bad,” I insisted, thinking of my mates and Diego. Of Axel and even Mali. Of Paco in his shed, with his flabby ass cheeks and pancake covered bed.
“You didn’t always believe that,” she pointed out, sounding slightly irritated.
I resisted the urge to growl. “People change. They take in new information and form new connections.”
“Can you honestly tell me that if your precious mates weren’t nightmares, you would still be so against my idea?” Aaliyah glared at me. “A world without nightmares sounds like…like a paradise.”
“It’s genocide,” I protested. I hated nightmares and what the majority of them represented, but there had never been a time in my life where I wanted all of them to fucking perish. There had been hundreds of good ones I’d met over the years, not even including my mates. And what about the children? What about the millions of innocent nightmares?
“We have power, Z,” Aaliyah told me. “Lots of power. Take me, for example.” She once more brought her gaze to her nails, surveying them in the sunlight streaming through the open window. I took note of that sunlight—when I passed out, it had been night. And if this was a true location and not just a product of my imagination, it meant Aaliyah’s headquarters were in a completely different kingdom. Probably the Shifter Kingdom. Aaliyah’s next words stopped my internal musings. “I can exacerbate the sins of all nightmares, but I can also eliminate them completely.”
“What…?” I gaped at her wordlessly. “What does that even mean?”
And why are you telling me this?
“I can amplify the sins in nightmares,” she reiterated. “Just like I did with your vampire mate… I made him out of control with bloodlust until he couldn’t concentrate on anything except getting his next fix of blood.”
“You destroyed his mind!” I bellowed, rage filling me.
She waved away my words dismissively. “His mind was never fully there to begin with. You can’t break what’s already broken, am I right?” She winked at me as if we were best friends and conspirators, but I simply glared back at her. Her smile wilted. “But I can also use my powers on the opposite spectrum as well.” She paused for dramatic effect before saying, “I can take away a nightmare’s power. I can make nightmares human.”
My god.
My legs wobbled, threatening to give out underneath me, and I slid down against the wall until my butt touched the cold tiling of the floor. I couldn’t see through the red fog that clouded my vision.
If what she was saying was true…
It could change everything.
“You’re capable of it too,” Aaliyah continued, her lips quirking upwards at my near meltdown. “You just need to learn how to harness your powers.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I demanded, finally finding my way to my feet. My legs shook underneath me, but I placed one hand on the stone wall to hold myself up. My eyes spewed vitriol at the grinning psychopath before me. “Why are you working with the kings if you hate nightmares so damn much?”
“Because…” One second, she was by the couch, and the next, she was directly in front of me. She placed a hand on my chest, and to my horror, a window materialized behind me. “You’re not the only one I plan to stab in the back.”
And just like before, she shoved me.
My arms pinwheeled in the air as I struggled to regain my balance, but before I could fall to the turbulent sea below, the castle crumbled into dust. I crouched down, raising my hands above my head to protect myself from fallen rocks and cement, but the scenery changed.
I was no longer in the stone palace but a dungeon.
What in the…?
I appeared to be in a cell where an unfamiliar man hung suspended on the wall, a manic grin pulling up his pink lips. His face was covered in bruises, but his ice-blue eyes were eerily familiar.
Ryland’s eyes.
On closer inspection, I saw that this was an older version of my shadow mate. The same dark skin. Same blue eyes. Same cropped black hair. The only difference was the permanent scars marring Ryland’s face, scars I still didn’t know the origins of.
