6. ONE BALLROOM, ONE BODY, ONE CROTCHETY OLD MAN

Chapter six

ONE BALLROOM, ONE BODY, ONE CROTCHETY OLD MAN

S uit tailored to perfection, I straightened my collar in the floor-length mirror and sighed. I'd never understand why the Gods saw fit to bless assholes with such beauty. Whether I liked to admit it or not—which I abso-fucking-lutely did not—Lyvias looked damn sexy reflected back at me. Did that make me a monster? To find him pleasing to the eye? I mean, come on. Broad shoulders, cut jawline, dark ink that popped off his ivory skin. Such an odd sensation. One that both sickened and intrigued me at the same time, given that my consciousness resided behind those eyes.

Enough ogling.

I stalked through the halls towards my first face-to-face glimpse of true beauty since my arrival in Anathema. Of her. My queen. Anticipation buzzed in my veins. We'd hardly gone a day without seeing each other, let alone days . I let myself wonder. Did she long for me as I did for her? Did she find herself considering what could have been if we'd never left our simple, mortal lives? My chest tightened at the thought of her knelt over the coffin Death had procured for me with tears streaming down her beautiful face. How I wished I could tell her the truth and reveal myself before she ended up in yet another impossible situation on my account, but I'd bet a crisp, hundred-dollar bill she'd already made at least one new enemy in her hunt to cure me.

Such a stubborn, fierce heart she had.

I bit my cheek, my leather shoes skidding against the carpet as I paused to reset my jaw. I shoved a finger into my mouth, and it came back shiny red. Again. Thanks to my new teeth—pointed, bulky, and foreign—I'd already managed to chew my cheeks to a consistency resembling ground beef, though that wasn't the worst of it. I'd expected changes would arise to accompany the new face I wore, but I'd underestimated how demanding those changes would be. How difficult to ignore. I swallowed hard, my throat burning. Gods , I was thirsty.

Upon approaching the ballroom doors, a strange throb settled in the base of my skull, like a tiny creature crawling around inside, its legs tickling my brain.

Hello, Lyvias. Death's voice mocked but…not audibly.

I turned, expecting to find Cadagon's frame slinking about; but the halls were empty aside from guards positioned every ten feet at their posts. "Uhh…hello?"

Don't bother; I am already seated inside. I come with a warning. Malachi, Lord of the demon court, has decided to grace us with his presence this evening. Do not, under any circumstances, allow my daughter to be alone with him. Do you understand me?

Great. My research of modern leadership in the demon court provided little information aside from references to Lord Malachi being permanently shrouded in shadows. The demons, it seemed, cherished privacy. Or maybe the dude was ugly as hell, hence the hiding. Either way, I knew one thing for sure: Kim was safest by my side. I cinched up my tie, pushed my shoulders back, and glared at the ballroom doors encased in gold leaf.

"You have my word," I whispered.

Good. And in case you weren't aware, the door handle won't, in fact, bite you. Get in here.

Golden candlelight encompassed the room, but its beauty paled in comparison to the guest of honor. An absolute vision in her floor-length gown, Kim's smile hit home like a sucker punch. My stomach jumped as her eyes fell on me. Her sweet smile dissipated, replaced by an even deadlier loveliness. So menacing. She tore her gaze from mine, but I continued to study her from the dimly lit sidelines, fighting to settle my rising heartbeat. What a knockout. The things I'd do for this woman would sicken others. To die for one's love is easy, expected. But to kill? To topple kingdoms in her name and rip apart her adversaries inch by inch? That called for true dedication, and I'd take pleasure in such atrocities if it meant her happiness. After a push from Death, she started my way.

"You will dance with me," she demanded.

I quirked a brow. "Will I?"

"Yes. And you will respect me. Do I make myself clear?"

Holy hell, did she. How I yearned to be at her mercy in that moment, to submit to her beck and call. My desire caught fire like gasoline on a spark. What was it about her that set me ablaze so easily?

I grinned, taking her hand in mine. "Indeed."

The scrutinous sights of society descended on us as I tucked my hand around Kimber's hip and twirled her about the dance floor, words evading me. I craved the ease our relationship had always allotted, but I reminded myself that I was, well, not myself. I was Lyvias Kraven: royal dickhead of Anathema. Conversation proved far more difficult than I'd anticipated. If I was too kind right away, it would arouse suspicion; but to be foul and cruel like Lyvias wasn't something I could stomach, let alone muster. Despite the awkward energy, I couldn't help but smile at her hand in mine. Yet she seemed so far away, lost in a distant thought.

"Princess," I said, spinning her out and back in, "you seem distracted."

She shook the fog away. "Not at all, I was simply…remembering. Forgive me."

Oh, how I burned to know what that meant. To dig into that beautiful mind of hers and help her sort through her troubles. But such sentiments wouldn't fare well coming from the rival she'd already resorted to hating.

Maybe if I just break the tension a little...

"That depends. What will you give me in return for my forgiveness?" I asked with a wink.

She raised a brow. "What's up with you tonight?"

Too flirty. Reel it in!

I dipped her back, frantic for a way out. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You verbally attacked me earlier, made me feel like absolute shit. And what, now you're suddenly playing nice?"

She didn't buy the act, not for a second. I should have known Kim would have none of my cheap attempts to deceive her. Clever girl.

"Why be kind now?" She finally asked, her cool demeanor giving me a chill. "Is it because we're surrounded by people? Or is it because I put you in your place back at the training grounds?"

I fought a laugh as the memory swept over me in vivid color. Lyvias wouldn't laugh at his own humiliation, idiot. I cleared my throat. "Hardly. I would simply be a fool not to have the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm tonight, would I not?"

"And there you have it." She shoved from my hold, a cynical chuckle on her red lips.

Anddddd…wrong move. Again. "Have what, exactly?"

"The insult I was waiting for. You're getting better at this. Really shaking it up on me."

"What are you talking about, Kim?"

She froze. "That's ‘Princess' to you."

"Fine, Princess, I meant no harm. I—"

"Save it." She snatched my arm, moving us out of the public eye. "I don't care what you were trying to say; your meaning was clear. I'm sure you have been able to use that little smirk of yours to get what you wanted in the past, but you can save it. The only company you'll have in bed tonight is your hand."

My stomach dropped, the awkward tension choking me. "That's not what I— Look, I was clearly an asshole before, but this marriage is going to happen whether we like it or not. Can't we be civil?"

"Civil? After everything you've said to me, you have the audacity to ask me to be civil ?"

What he said to you , I nearly responded, but the Lord's prior cruelty forced me to play a harsh role I'd never wanted to embody. "I'm sorry, alright? What do you want from me?"

"To admit this is shit! That we don't love each other and that…sucks."

Every muscle in my body tensed, because I— I did. I loved her more than I'd ever loved anyone, and even though I understood her words were aimed at Lyvias, they stung the same as if they'd been intended for me.

"I have feelings for someone else, okay?" She sighed.

June. Of course that's where her head had been at earlier. While I couldn't do anything in regards to their relationship, I could give her a safe space to feel. "You do?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Of course not." I dodged her gaze. "I didn't expect such an honest answer is all."

"Honesty: it's my curse."

She sauntered out onto the veranda overlooking the gardens—rosy perfume seemingly calming her flames—and I retrieved champagne, returning to extend her a glass. "It's not a curse you know. Honesty, I mean. That's actually a very noble trait."

"Think so, huh? Seems to get me into trouble more than not."

I saw it plain on her face: she was questioning her worth; and I couldn't allow that. "I do. I believe it to be crucial in a ruler. Unforeseen situations are bound to come along. A straightforward stance in the route to a decisive solution. It unites."

Her confidence returned, and she rested a hand on my arm, the simple touch sending lightning through me. Crazy, how such a small comfort could reset an entire evening.

One sarcastic jest later, and we were back on the dance floor. The night blew past like fog on the wind, an eerie presence taking root in me as the night progressed. I searched the crowd time and again, but found nothing out of sorts until, that is, he wanted to be seen. Hidden in the ballroom's recesses, the fabled demon Lord lingered. Our sight lines clashed into one another, and from there, I couldn't shake him. I pulled Kim close to me, heeding Death's warning. I tried to pay Malachi no mind, but his fixed attention burrowed into my skin, his rogue shadows twisting around my ankle on occasion. Probing. Searching. His desire for Lyvias's attention was clear. But why?

By the ball's conclusion, I'd lost track of the ominous shadow wielder but had managed to keep Kimber away from him at least. Questions plagued me as I ensured her safe return to her suite. Whatever Lyvias and Malachi had going on…it rattled me. Deeply. I should have reveled in my newfound lead, celebrated the fact that, with some digging, I might be able to draw out the details of Lyvias's dark past through Malachi. Instead, reality reared its ugly head once again.

My standing appointment with Death loomed.

I checked the time, my sore head and muscles throbbing in tandem. Well past two o'clock. Awesome, no sleep for me. By the time I found some miraculous way to drag Lyvias's now swollen corpse to the castle graveyard, Death would have had ample time to formulate a lecture about tardiness and living by one's word or whatever the crotchety, old bastard thought I needed to hear. Between the thirst making my mouth drier than the Sahara Desert and the remnants of champagne wearing off, I didn't have the patience to hear any of it. Better to get it over with. Quickly.

I started cleanup duty. First, mopping up more blood than I'd seen in one place at any given time. Second, sealing and taping the dead Lord's throat shut—couldn't have him leaking all over the place—and third, stripping and tossing his soaked clothes in a bag to burn in the nearest hearth when possible. I couldn't risk leaving a blood trail as I dragged him through the halls. Murder was a damn chore, I swear.

Turns out, I'd severely underestimated the muscle the dude was packing. While I'd received the brunt of Lyvias's strength during our little murder dance, it became apparent how much iron the asshole lifted in my attempt to haul his lifeless frame down the stairs. Even dead, he managed to vex me. Figured. Here I'd expected his vampiric strength to transfer to me—maybe lend a helping hand—but it appeared not. Though something told me the ever-growing thirst in me coincided with the onset of weakness. The hunger. As much as I hated to admit it, I'd have to feed eventually, but not yet. Not until I absolutely had to.

Approaching footsteps sent me into a panic. Shit, shit, shit!

Because that's what I needed: for someone to walk up and see Lyvias carting his doppelganger through the halls. Imagine explaining that! Oh, hi there! It's me, the vampire Lord. A body, you say? I've no idea what you're talking about, good sir. Right. Straight to the dungeon for me. Despite my frantic attempts to keep quiet, Lyvias's head thunked against one step after the other, his tongue falling out as I neared the last stair. Lovely.

I dragged him to ground level and landed on my sole option: an alcove cut into the stone wall. Frantic, I shoved Lyvias's corpse behind the reaper statue within the recess. His stiff feet and hands jutted out around the sides like a mannequin perched for a jump scare. Albeit a tad hilarious to behold, it was also visible to anyone who passed. Far too visible. But I was out of time, footsteps rounding the corner.

Nasheesh crashed into me. "Oh!"

I smoothed my suit, acutely aware of the blood droplet on the lapel. Perks of wearing a vampire's face? Unexplained blood stains were to be expected, though my heart rate still climbed.

"My apologies, Lord Lyvias. I didn't expect company in the halls this late."

"It appears neither of us did." I laughed a little too hard, my pent-up nervous energy peeking through. Get yourself together, man.

Nasheesh's forehead tensed. "Are you alright, Sire? You appear to be out of sorts tonight."

"Fine. Just taking a walk to clear the mind."

"Mmhmm." Nasheesh looked me over. "Might I lend an ear? I've not much time, but my next meeting can wait should you require my services."

Next meeting? Who would he be meeting at such a late hour? Clearly not Death, as he and I had a standing appointment that I grew increasingly late for by the second. Curiosity peaked, I bit my lip and logged the info away for future consideration. The haunting scene unfolding an arm's reach away stole my focus. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Lyvias's dead frame slowly sliding down the wall, ready to plop out on the floor in plain view. Naturally, the dude would be an attention whore even in death.

The advisor turned, following my sight line, and I snatched him by the shoulder. "That's quite alright. Some fresh air is all I require."

"If you say so, Your Highness."

He tried for another look, but I stepped forward to cut off his view. All the while, my new, hyper-focused ears honed in on the drag of skin rubbing against stone. My palms grew sweaty. I needed Nasheesh gone. Stat. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and guided him away. "I insist, really. Go have your meeting. I'll be fine, I assure you."

His feline eyes lingered on me, his lips pursed. "As you wish. Goodnight, Sire."

"Goodnight, Nasheesh."

My heartbeat echoed in my head as I watched him disappear down the hall.

That'd been way too close for comfort. Returning to a now fully visible corpse, I scoured the scene one last time before dragging him back out into the open. Time to ditch this loser. It took me a minute to hit my stride—what with Lyvias's bulbous head catching a corner or two in transit to the southernmost kitchen. The staff had hunkered down for the night, leaving the space free for us to sneak out undetected. Fantastic news for me.

Fog enveloped the hillside, its moist touch on my cheeks a welcome reprieve. Momentarily, anyway. Death had, once again, left details to be desired. I'd thought transporting a bag of bones down stairs was rough, but lugging him up the graveyard's steep incline? Far worse. As if my muscles weren't screaming enough already after having changed my entire anatomy mere hours before. No biggie. Seething, I pulled and pushed to the top.

"They should really post some guards in the kitchen between shifts," I grumbled, dropping Lyvias at Death's feet. "Somebody could easily sneak into the castle."

"A fact I think you'll find will fare well for you, boy," he responded.

True. But still. "So what are we doing back at the family crypt? You think this prick deserves a royal burial?"

"Oh, there is no chance of that." Death shook his head. "But considering we can't have anyone finding him, I had an idea that suits ours as well as Kimber's needs."

"That doesn't sound ominous or anything. What exactly are we talking about here?"

Cadagon turned and placed a hand over an ancient placard. "Come. I'll show you."

The ground rumbled, opening up beneath us. Per Death's request, I dragged Lyvias down the windy steps, my lungs laboring. Steady drips echoed about the space as I stumbled through the pitch black in the crypt's depths, falling flat on my face. "Dude, I just can't catch a fucking break tonight!"

A chuckle from Death, and every candle lining the room erupted to life.

"Couldn't have lit those any sooner, huh?" I asked, dropping Lyvias like a sack of potatoes.

"And put an end to such an entertaining sight? Certainly not."

Glad somebody got a kick out of my suffering. Cadagon snapped once, and the coffin meant to hold my rotting flesh flew open.

"Drop him in," he ordered.

"Care to lend a hand, or you going to stare at me all night?" I hunched over my knees. "I mean, I know I'm pretty to look at, Death, but you're not my type."

He rolled his eyes. "A king is wise to not involve himself in matters such as these."

I grunted, flinging Lyvias's legs over the casket's side. "What does that make you then? A fool? You're already involved, so why not help?"

"Bad back."

"Right." Jerk.

Lyvias rolled back out with a thud. Dear gods , this guy ! Placing his left arm and left leg in this time, I managed to shove him over the coffin wall; he landed face down, ass to the heavens. I snickered. Good riddance, douche bag. I found a stone near the stairwell and hammered the nails into the coffin's smooth wood. Finally, I melted onto the ground, my sweaty locks plastered to my forehead. Done.

I leaned my head back against the stone wall, turning to Death. "Wait…how does this make any sense? Kim will be able to see it's not me in there. You know she'll come to visit."

"Ah, but if I put a glamour over the casket window to say…make it always misty and appear as if you are the one inside? Would that suffice, you think?"

I pursed my lips. "Smart."

"Yes, I am."

"Certainly not humble," I whispered under my breath.

"Watch it, boy," he warned, though his lips fought a grin.

He ushered for me to stand, and we parted ways without another word. Fine by me. Time for some damn sleep.

After stripping off my clothes, I crawled into bed. The cool, silky sheets soothed the throb in my, well…my everything. At last, a chance to close my eyes. To turn off my mind, reset, and—

"Lord Lyvias," a dainty voice called through the door.

I clapped my hands over my face. And no sleep for Coop. Silly of me to have hoped for even a teensy, tiny, little catnap. Dragging my hands down my cheeks, I stared at the ceiling a second longer before donning clean clothes and cracking the door. "Lana? Everything okay?"

"He sent me," she said, and extended a rather large black box tied up with a bow.

"Wait…who sent you?"

She blinked and shook her head; sworn to secrecy it seemed.

"I must go. But I will return tomorrow to attend to your needs, Lord Lyvias. Or wait…"

"Ah, Suri told you then."

"She did, but I swear your secret is safe with me," she rushed. "I would never betray your trust or—"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I believe you," I said gently. "You can call me Cooper. And don't worry, you need not attend to me, child. You are free."

She quirked an eyebrow. "But Nasheesh will grow suspicious if I do not come, will he not?"

She had a point. Smart kid. I shifted on my feet. "I'll tell you what: on occasion, when you so choose, you can come visit me, okay?"

"And if you aren't here?"

"Then consider my space yours. Breathe. Read. Take a long nap if you like."

Lana picked at her fingers. "And if you are here? What will we do then?"

The heartache written across her face killed me. This poor girl. I leaned down. "We will do whatever you want to do. I promise I am not your enemy. You are safe with me."

I could tell she didn't believe me, but I decided right then and there that I would do everything in my power to prove it to her. If undoing wicked men's actions at her expense wasn't an option, maybe helping her towards a kinder future could be.

"Okay," she whispered. "Just…be careful tonight."

"You too." I placed a gentle pat on her head and sent her on her way.

In the seclusion, I placed the package on my bed and looked it over. Considering others surely hated Lyvias as much as I did, I pondered for a moment if the box might contain a bomb or noxious gas. But in the end, curiosity won out. With a slight tug on the ribbon, the box unfolded like magic. Inside lay a red suit complete with pinstripe tie and an ornate black mask: a permanently grinning skull with deep-set eye sockets. A wax-sealed note lay beneath.

I require your attendance at the club this night, dear friend. It has finally happened. Our dreams have come to fruition.

- Malachi

Oh, unholy fuck.