“You will give me my son!”
“For a kiss.”
No. Though the argument was personal, more had come to bear witness. The undead, hissing threats yet failing to come closer. As if there were an unseen line in the garden no toe might cross.
Lingering, circling, they called out obscenities. Clicked their tongues as if to draw my attention away. Others only cocked their heads as if this were the most entertaining display they had seen in ages.
More laughter.
But the unhinged sound was mine. I was laughing at them.
They were afraid of a head on a stick! The irony being that... so was I. I was petrified of a skull with sorry flesh hanging from its twitching muscles. One that could not touch me in any way that mattered.
One I was extremely tempted to simply… eat.
He was already inside my mind, why not just digest what was left? I could imagine the crunch of bone in a powerful maw. Even though the sound of those screams had been more beautiful than any the sun might inflict on the most terrible demon of hell.
Red eyes I remembered held mine as I said it. “I hate you.”
I don’t think I had ever said that to another being in my life.
But it was freeing! “I do, Darius. Not once did I love you. I might not remember, but I know I fought your desires.”
And I had never fought Vladislov, not in that way. Not even on the planks when I’d let him have his show at my expense. No, I just ran, because I could not bear to look at him when he seemed so giddy.
And I would deal with him later.
What a thought. I would deal with the king of monsters, and I already knew he would kneel to me, perhaps even cry, but never learn.
In a very strange, comforting way, I could even accept that.
But first… Darius.
Lip curled, I stood just as I had seen my haughty daughter stand, snarling, “You’ll be nothing but a display in a garden, scratching at the minds of those who wander too near in the same way mice scratch at the walls. You’re a pathetic infestation, Darius.”
“Kiss me, my treasure.”
Oh, I’d kiss him all right. I’d eat his face right down to the bone!
Tongue already tracing the sharper edges of my teeth, I took a step closer, caught by a voice at my ear. “Pearl, this is no place for you.”
What?
Who on earth would dare come between me and the finest, most pure moment of rage.
True hatred sang in me as if it had always been there, would always be there, and would give me all the comfort I lacked since my first breath.
What was love when hate might empower? What was love but a figment of the imagination?
Hate was far more real. It was palpable.
I could be whole!
A figure stepped into my periphery. “Look at me. One look and you’ll understand why hate will never devour love no matter how hard it tries. Compassion triumphs over cruelty. Self-respect feeds while self-indulgence diminishes. Pearl. I’m right here.”
A man, brown-skinned and beautiful in a way tranquil seas were beautiful. Eyes as hypnotic as waving barley in a soft breeze. Voice… his voice was water to quench an endless thirst. He offered a kind smile, even as he said, “This particular demon knows you in ways you cannot imagine. Look at your hands. Already, you’re pulling Darius free of his prison. He’s luring you into his whims, feeding your hatred.”
What?
Oh God….
My outstretched hands were sticky with rotting ooze, both palms flush to the torn ribbons of throat that needed to be worked free. I had already pulled the snapping head a good three inches higher, fighting the crusting matter that had glued him in place.
I was touching the vilest of creatures, his crispy skin cracking against my touch, his teeth bared as if once I pulled him to my bosom, he’d feast.
While I thought I was making a feast of him.
Desperate, the monstrosity screamed vileness into my mind as I yanked my touch away, and a sickening sound followed the head sinking down the pole until the tip hit the inside of his skull.
Its face was a frenzy of twitching, brains scrambling, healing, scrambling, healing. Just like me, there was a hole. A pike, taking parts away.
And in that, I took pleasure.
Even as I gagged.
The effort it took to break my gaze from the boiling crimson of a half-rotted head was almost unbearable.
As if it might make me clean, I scrubbed my hands on the silk of my skirt, the red growing grisly with the bits of unspeakable things. The stain on the outside matching the stain on the inside as that thing screamed for me to return.
Darius had been so close to freedom, in the arms of a daywalker who could move through space on an accidental whim. Who had fallen into his dream by teasing me with the angelic face of a dirty, suffering boy.