Endless Knight (Darkling Mage 9)

Asher’s distant laughter and the splashing of water broke the quiet. Belphegor lifted her head, pushed her hat off, and raised her sunglasses again. She smiled as she caught sight of Asher.

“Look out for jellyfish and sea urchins,” she yelled out, before leaning into the recliner again. “Cute kid. You should let your pet necromancer out of your little mausoleum more often, lich.”

I could feel the contempt rising off of Carver’s body in waves. I knew that there wasn’t any prior history between him and the demon prince, but Carver, more than anyone, understood the value of information. Belphegor having that tiniest little edge over us put us at a disadvantage, as far as bargaining was concerned.

“I find,” Carver said, “that it is extremely prudent to protect my students. They are most precious to me. They are valuable.”

?

??Indeed,” Belphegor said, sitting up as she removed her shades. Her eyes were a startling brown, like a tiger, too beautiful to be completely human. “Your students are valuable. But they are not valuables. Not jewels to be kept in a box.”

Beside me, Mason flinched. Those were his exact words, once, the way he described how Carver had a tendency to keep him and Asher locked up tight in the Boneyard.

“Don’t look so surprised, nephilim,” Belphegor said, chuckling as she squirted something white out of a little tube into the palm of her hand. “Mammon was so pissed off about not being able to acquire you for their collection. Imagine that, a menagerie, just so Mammon has something to look at.” There was something mesmerizing in the way Belphegor rubbed the lotion into her sun-kissed skin, how the corner of her mouth curved with the laziest little smile. “Imagine that, spending the rest of your life in a zoo.”

“And Mason will be always be spared such a fate,” Carver said, stepping decisively between demon prince and nephilim. “Unless what is left of my body is obliterated. Now. About the sword.”

Belphegor groaned, then leaned back in her recliner, rubbing more lotion into her neck, down the crevices of her chest. “Yes, yes. The sword. I don’t care what you want it for. I don’t care what you need it for. All I know is that you need a demon-forged blade for – well, something. And you’ll get it.” She tilted her head towards me, addressing me directly. “I’ve got the perfect one, too. Duskfang, once wielded by a powerful demon general, forged from the gore of a thousand men by history’s greatest bloodsmith.”

Bloodsmith?

“Oh wow,” Mason muttered. “Is that true?”

Belphegor waved her hand vaguely. “Sure. Why the hell not. It’s going to take a while for me to acquire the damn thing, though. I know you guys are on some stupid deadline to save the world or whatever, but it’s going to take me a couple of days to find it. A week, tops.”

“We don’t have a week,” Carver growled.

“Ugh,” Belphegor said, reaching for her drink. “Are you humans always this annoying? I don’t remember you people being so annoying.”

“Dustin Graves!”

The voice boomed from far across the water, and my heart leapt up my throat as I recognized who it came from.

“No,” I muttered, scanning the shore and, to my dismay, finding a silver-haired man standing waist-deep in the water. “Poseidon? Again?”

Chapter 12

“Meddlers,” Carver hissed. He threw out his hand, a lasso of orange fire racing towards the shore as he gestured. With deadly precision, the rope of flames looped around Asher’s body, catching him tight. Asher yelped as Carver gestured again, pulling him directly towards our huddle. Gil followed in his wake, running like the devil himself was chasing him. Carver turned his head slightly, then murmured. “Duck.”

Asher went sailing over my head, making a soft, bodily thump and a confused “Oof” as he fell into the sand. Mason just had enough time to check on him before Poseidon’s voice rang out across the dunes again.

“Traitor,” he shouted, brandishing his trident, a slab of glistening muscle and wet hair. “Blasphemer. First you consort with the Great Beasts, and now I find you striking bargains with a demon prince of hell?”

I clapped both hands to either side of my mouth. “It’s not what it looks like.” Actually, to be fair, it was exactly what it looked like. “Leave us alone. You don’t know what you’re getting into, Mr. Poseidon, sir.” That’s how you treat entities with respect, right? Nailed it.

Poseidon’s face twisted with fury. It must have been the wrong thing to say. He didn’t speak again, only raising his trident, pointing it directly at our group. I thought it was a vague, idle gesture, until I noticed the waters rising.

“All I wanted was a tan,” Belphegor moaned, speaking more to herself than anybody else. “I just wanted to hang out on my own. White sandy beaches, crystal blue water. But does Belphegor ever get what she wants? Ugh. So annoying.”

“Shit,” I said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Not until we complete the bargain,” Carver barked. “We defend ourselves, show this entity that we are not to be trifled with.”

“Easy for you to say,” Gil said, wiping sweat off his brow, “but we’ve been trifled with twice now. Poseidon means business. Also, unrelated, but I’m not the best swimmer.”

Carver didn’t even look at Gil when he responded. “Head inland.” He lifted one hand, a tremendous plume of amber fire dancing from his fingers. “Allow me to handle this.”

Belphegor swatted Carver’s hand out of the way, much to his very obvious displeasure. I hadn’t even noticed her peeling herself out of the recliner. “Let the grownups handle this one, lich,” she purred. “Honestly, I take a day off, and do I even get to relax? No. Of course not. Do you people know what’s more annoying than humans? Spoiler alert: gods. It’s gods.”