A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 1)

He continued at a quick pace, walking between the wood and the houses backing up to it. I noticed he took a roundabout path, clearly being careful not to pass the area where demons habitually strolled or lounged or got/gave blowjobs. The houses we passed belonged to humans who didn’t mess with demons on the regular, and most had dark windows. This path spoke of familiarity and practice.

“You were lying again,” I said as he wound closer, “about coming to check on me instead of waiting for me to go into the wood.”

“Omitting more than lying, but yes. Since you turned eighteen, I have visited from time to time, more often in the last few years.”

“How could I not know? How come I’ve never heard about a strange man stalking this village?”

“Because it was dark, and demons come and go. What would they care about another face they don’t know? I was careful not to be seen, though.”

“Why did you come?”

“Curiosity. I wondered about the everlass and then the conundrum of your village’s declining death rate, but I wasn’t smart enough to make the connection. It seemed impossible that someone could devise an elixir to help. I wondered if maybe your numbers had dwindled to a red line.”

“But if you’ve been around, how come my animal just recently pushed forward?”

“Shifters hit their max power at twenty-five. You are…twenty-three, correct? You’re still building.”

“How old are you?”

He finally reached my lane, sticking to the shadows as he worked his way up. “Time froze for me at twenty-five. All experiences but voyeurism and nightly ground-bound battles stopped. I’ve had no experiences of note, nothing new to learn, and no new society to invigorate me or help me mature. I’m a budding shifter adult trapped like a fly in honey.”

Something stirred inside of me, and I said, “I feel old and young at the same time. My childhood turned quickly to panic, disease, and strife. Danger forced me to mature too quickly. I feel like I’ve lived two lifetimes in just sixteen years.”

“It’s strange, the way it happened. Time stopping in the castle while it marches on in the villages.”

He stopped at the door to my family home, setting me down gently. His balance tipped, and he stumbled into the doorframe. He braced his hand against the wood and straightened up.

“I don’t think you’ll see me again, Finley,” he said, his eyes taking in my face. “You’re an incredible woman. You have a bright future. This curse prepared you for a life of survival.” He paused, swallowed, and then added, “The demon king loves beauty. He collects it, like trophies. With people, he likes them to loiter around his court and carry golden trays of food and wine for his guests. Make a deal and get your family out of here. Just hide that fierce determination. Hide your power and ability to lead. Hide everything that makes you great. It’s within your power.”

“Stop talking crazy.” I rapped on the door before grabbing his big shoulder and turning him. He leaned his forearm against the frame this time, bowing.

“Normally I wouldn’t let you see my back,” he murmured, slurring a bit.

“How long do I have?” There wasn’t enough light for me to see the wound clearly.

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve never felt their poison. We have some antiserum, but it is decades old. I doubt it still works. There’s nothing to cure me, Finley. Just let me go. Please, just let me finally go.”

I rapped on the door again before spinning him around. I slapped him across the face. His eyes sparked fire. Good. Anger was good.

“I will fix this, do you hear me? Our library has a book on poisons. Well, it’s mostly about trees, but it also talks about a bunch of natural poisons. There is this—”

The door swung open, the light from inside making me squint. Hannon stood there with wide, disbelieving eyes.

I stepped forward and slapped him across the face, too. Just so he knew I wasn’t a ghost.

“This guy got hurt saving my life. I need to work on him, and then you need to work on me.”

Hannon yanked me forward into a tight hug, shaking.

“We don’t have time, Hannon,” I wheezed.

He pushed me away before quickly assessing my wounds. “How bad?”

“Me? Not terrible. I can wait.”

He nodded and looked behind me. His eyes widened, and I followed his gaze. I sucked in a startled breath at the sight of Nyfain’s back. The claw marks were pure black, the skin around them torn and puffy, and black lines streaked from the wound.

My gaze shot to another injury—rough scars ran down each side, starting at his shoulder blades and running down to the middle of his back. These injuries were old, the skin almost waxy and lighter than his tanned back. Sixteen years old, I’d bet. They looked like the kind of scars one might get after their wings were shorn. That was clearly why he didn’t want to show me his back. He was embarrassed about what the curse had done to his animal. To him.