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Chapter 11

11

ROMAN

I took a step to the right to get a better view. Bless Xavier for being in bodyguard mode, but I wanted to take this shit in.

Ten monarchs lined up behind Ismael, the dickhead in question the center piece. Beside him, Past Xavier watched on with the coldest expression ever.

"That certainly was an interesting distraction your queen provided." Ismael spoke in soft, creepily calm tones. "Under different circumstances, it would be interesting rather than an irritant."

Ah, someone had their claws out today. I kept mine sharp yet retracted. The last thing I wanted to do was goad this prick into spearing my people.

Maybe later.

"Should we turn back?" I whispered, barely opening my mouth.

Xavier bristled, saying nothing.

Returning to the desert was just asking for me to be a pancake. That whole sandy nightmare remained off limits. Which left fighting our way through these demons the only option.

Cool. Bring it.

With one wish, I could clear the decks. If I focused on a demon while getting the wording right, I might take said demon out, keeping my companions safe.

Should I risk it?

"We cannot help right now," Margarite and Lizard Guy said together.

Yeah. Thanks. Super helpful.

Ismael's grin curdled my insides. "Did you really think you could escape me, Xavier? You know I always get what I want."

Past Xavier practically turned green, jealous of himself.

Seriously? Ugh.

There were more demons beyond the door, many white eyes awaiting the next steps. Not all of them wore crowns.

"Got yourself some new additions?" I inquired.

Ismael cocked his head. "I do not understand how you have enraptured my Xavier so deeply. I cannot see the attraction." He shrugged.

"A spell," Past Xavier chimed in. "It has to be a spell."

My Xavier put his good arm around my waist protectively. "No spell."

The meaner Xavier growled. "You make me sick."

I inspected the area quickly, trying to formulate some sort of plan. There were no other exits, nothing to use to fight these fuckers. Unless I managed to grab Ismael's silver crown, using those pointy bits to get stabby.

Awesome idea but completely impractical.

Okay. Time to consider the next idea. There were a lot of demons in there, and I just spotted Tanith's big snake body amongst them. Great. She was always super fun to deal with.

A shit situation indeed, but not impossible. We were all without magic tricks, my device aside. Some of those demons possessed weapons, so the fight wasn't equal. Yet. Also, some of them would be stronger and faster than us. It was a shame I couldn't observe them in action first, make some mental notes, adjust the fight accordingly.

"What happens now?" Butterfly asked.

Ismael kept his eyes on me. "You are the enemy. You must die."

The using-the-crown idea wasn't a bad one. It could help disarm a few other demons, allow us to get chopping or smashing. I spotted one demon holding a spiky mace, which would work wonders.

I'll have that one, please.

"Shit!" I cried, realizing my mistake.

"Roman?"

I spun to see Darcy blinking with unnatural speed, his body twitching.

Oh. My. God. Please don't let this ? —

His head snapped to the right, neck twisting like a wrung-out dish cloth, every bone cracking with sickening volume. The movement looked fake, like shoddy CGI.

My best friend fell down, his complexion paling with death.

I ran to him, landing heavily by his side, barely noticing the pain in my kneecaps.

"Darcy?" His pupils dilated, his mouth slack. "No, no, no. Darcy! Please! No!"

The mace appeared beside me.

"Darcy!" I screamed, shaking him. "No! I didn't mean it."

Not my best friend. Not my best friend. Oh, God. What was I supposed to do now? This wasn't his time. He deserved better, to see things settle back down. Even if it meant him being a rat again, he should live out the rest of his days with me. Stuffing himself with his favorite snacks, his whiskers tickling my neck when he sat on my shoulder. Him scolding me, giving me advice, being the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

Not this. Not this corpse because of my fucking wishes.

A tight grip on my arm, Xavier's heat seeping into my skin. "Don't say anything else. Don't?—"

"I want him back," I wished through my tears.

Something went pop and Darcy shot up, gasping for breath, his eyes wide.

"Oh my God!" I yelled. "I'm so sorry. I'm so?—"

It was then I noticed Xavier's dead body, the side of his head blown away like he'd taken a bullet.

Everything came to a grinding halt. The world around me blurred, my lungs forgetting to work. Cold iron replaced the blood in my veins, my sense of reality a mess.

"Xavier?"

This wasn't real. I didn't just wish for my best friend back only to kill the guy I'd called my boyfriend. We should be getting out of here to discuss that status.

No, no, no. I was better than this. I'd been trying so hard to be careful. I know I made a mistake with the mace, but…but…but…

Nothing I could tell myself justified this. Nothing changed the reality I had to face.

"I killed him," I said. "I killed him."

Voices rose around me, calling my name, shouting things. Tears blurred my vision, a ball of vicious agony planting itself in my chest.

"I killed him. All I do is kill…"

Born to kill, an angel of death. How many notches were on my murderous bedpost now? Too many, my soul drowning in blood.

I'd killed my hopes, ended any possible future with the beautiful demon on the ground. I took his cold hand, his warmth gone. Couldn't bear to look at his ruined head, focusing on the smoothness of his fingers, remembering their touch.

"Xavier…" I put his hand on my face. A block of ice. Not how it should be.

He's gone.

My Xavier is gone.

"Xavier…" His name came out as a weak rasp, my eyes hot. Grief shattered my dreams into a million pieces, an old friend come to kick the rest of me into the abyss.

"Roman…" Darcy spoke beside me. "We have to get out of here."

I laid my head on my demon lover's unmoving chest, pressing my ear close, waiting for the twin heartbeats to tell me everything was okay. No need for these tears or this crippling sorrow. I didn't really fuck up. It was just my imagination getting the better of me. Time to snap out of it and get back to planning some arse-kicking. Get myself a weapon the safe way, remember how dangerous I was.

Give me the strength to get up and fight…

No. I didn't… No! I didn't mean to think that. It was just a turn of phrase, not a wish. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. I didn't fucking mean it!

Darcy died again as a surge of power filled my body. He landed across Xavier, bleeding from every orifice.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

"Xavier? Darcy?" Silent tears rolled down my cheeks. Despite the influx of new energy, I didn't have the strength to sob, to move, to do anything other than gaze upon a nightmare of my own creation.

"What have you done?" Butterfly said. I noticed his wet, sandy robes close to me. "What have you done?"

His words slammed fists on every single one of my anger buttons. Slowly, I lifted my head to find his face. He stared down at the bodies of my best friend and my demon boyfriend. Purple hair doing that stupid billowing thing when it should be wet and matted, everything about his face dragging my patience across a cheese grater.

"Fuck you." I wiped at my tears. "You did this. You fucking did this."

His eyes met mine but silence was his response.

The other demons were inching closer. I didn't care. All my attention was for this fluttering fucker and his audacity in asking me that question.

White hot anger replaced the cold iron. "This is because of you." My nose was running, eyes continuing to leak. "You don't get to say anything. You don't get to do anything."

Man, I couldn't endure this grief attacking me from all sides. Each strand of it came with a killing blow. Too much, wrecking my mind, body, and soul, doing anything it could to obliterate me as it raged in an endless storm.

Everyone I'd ever loved was gone. Two of them I'd murdered because I couldn't be strong enough to keep my mind in check.

Killer.

Killer.

Killer.

How dare I think I could start a new life? Who the fuck did I think I was to hope for happiness? Killers like me were empty shells with one purpose in life. We existed outside of love and peace and hope.

I am nothing.

I am death.

I am done.

From the corner of my eye, I clocked the demons almost upon us. Soon I'd be dead to join the two men on the ground. I kicked that hope in the balls. I didn't deserve to see them. I deserved to burn, to suffer every torment in the afterlife if a place of pain existed.

Here I come, Hell.

Butterfly said something I didn't catch. My hands curled into tight fists, ready to beat him to a bloody pulp with this new strength of mine.

At least it'd be put to good use.

Before these demons snuffed me out, I'd take him down. Beat that handsome face into the ground, make him hurt for setting me on this violent path.

His device saved my life as a child. Now it ended it, burning everything down and salting the earth. Death by my fists was the least he deserved.

I plunged into an inferno of rage and sorrow, surging forward with a bloodthirsty scream. Before I managed to land my uppercut, he twirled out of my trajectory like a ballerina, snatching something from the air. It glinted in his hand as he moved too quickly for me to dodge.

He plunged the dagger into my chest.

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