Chapter 11

11

DEVA

Sunlight boredown on me through the dense trees above like an examination light, or a beam of magic trying to burn a hole through me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t truly that hot, and the silver sheath dress I wore was doing nothing to keep me warm. It was absolutely freezing out here, and I knew my lips were blue as I tried to keep myself from shivering, not wanting to give Astaroth, let alone anyone else, the satisfaction of knowing I was uncomfortable.

I could hear them growing closer, and only the soft murmurs of the two women who’d restrained me on this stone altar told me that I wasn’t alone. The cold metal bit into my wrists, and my eyes prickled with frustration. No matter how incredibly powerful I was, there was nothing I could do to stop this.

Not if I wanted to escape with my life intact today. One day….one day soon, maybe. After all, it wasn’t like today would actually kill me. I hated that I’d started to hope for that.

Chants filled the air as Astaroth and his acolytes grew closer. A shiver of dread rolled over me, my nerve endings pricking painfully with anticipation of what was to come. When a sudden cackle of amusement filled the air, a defensive snarl nearly left my throat, but I managed to keep my face expressionless as Astaroth appeared over me, his gaze on someone else.

“No, truly I am excited for you to see this. What are the chances of it going wrong after so many times?”

I didn’t bother turning my head to see what guest he had brought with him. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to do, adding to the humiliation of being cut up and having my skin peeled back for a gruesome tattoo session.

“You don’t mind, right?” Astaroth offered me an amused look, his smile growing as I held his gaze. “No, she doesn’t mind. Now, let’s get started.”

I never got used to dying, mostly because there was no gentle unconscious state I fell into. No, from the moment it started, I felt like I was on fire. Like I was being burned from the inside out as a sharp object carved into my very soul…

Until my body gave out. Until it overloaded. Until everything went dark and I craved the sweet release of death. This time I didn’t scream; I didn’t even let that be an option. Tears wet my face, and the scent of blood had my stomach rolling. I could feel him carving runes down the center of my right arm, and the only thing I could hear was the silence inside of me.

The telltale sign that I was in fact a vessel for magic.

A vessel for Astaroth’s doing.

My eyes flickered open, and as I stared up at the sky, void of any moon, I desperately prayed for intervention for this to be over⁠—

“Deva!” My dream shattered momentarily, and I gasped for air as panic clawed its way up my chest and into my throat. Heaving forward, I felt the memory of black tar rolling up my esophagus, and I coughed so hard that tears leaked down my face. Black dots spotted my vision as I faceplanted right into the sheets in front of me⁠—

I was fearful to open my eyes—fearful to find myself inside a nightmare once more. Only the soothing sound of my heartbeat made me feel moderately better. It meant they were nearby. It meant that I was safe. It wasn’t something I had ever allowed others to make me feel, but these men did that and so much more.

“Little thief, open your eyes.”

My eyes were heavy and gritty from tears as I tried to open them. A cool wind rolled over me as I realized that I was laying in a soft grassy space, surrounded by open air and a night sky. But that wasn’t what took most of my attention. No, it was Lazaro, who was rolled onto his side and staring down at me, brushing my hair from my face.

I didn’t know what to say for a long moment as I tried to piece together what had happened…and as I stared up into his nickel-shaded eyes, it became clear. “You stopped my nightmare.”

“I did.” His jaw tightened. “I didn’t stop it soon enough, but I tried to get to you before it got any worse.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, placing my hand on his cheek. His large hand wrapped around my wrist in a possessive hold.

“Don’t thank me—not until I kill that fucking bastard.”

Staring up at him, I inhaled sharply and spoke the words out loud that I’d felt for a very long time. “You’re right—he has to die. I can’t live peacefully knowing he’s alive, Lazaro. I have to be the one to kill him though. I have to be.”

Understanding filtered through his gaze as he nodded and pressed his forehead to my own, creating a bubble of serenity between us. Both of us had been feeling significantly off since last night, going to bed together as the others stayed up to talk about how the meeting had ended.

Nothing had been officially decided, which apparently was the norm. Apparently these types of things took days, usually, but the first step they took was sending scouts out. It made sense, of course, but the lack of resolution on a plan left me feeling uneasy. And that wasn’t even including the family dramas my men were experiencing now that everyone was under the same roof.

“We should wake up,” I murmured. “My brain is moving a million miles an hour.”

The space around us trembled, as if the earth itself was moving⁠—

My eyes opened, and this time I was greeted with the light from an open window—the sun breaking through the normally cloudy skies. I could tell that it was early, but I could hear the soft murmur of conversation from the other room. The only one still with me was Lazaro, who was wrapped around me from behind.

“Can we go train?”

Lazaro slowly rolled me over as he offered me a sleepy, curious look. Understandable—I wouldn’t have expected those to be my first words either.

“Train?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I need to do something, to move. I can’t really explain it, but I know it will help clear my head.”

Lazaro’s eyes filled with understanding as he nodded towards the bathroom door. “Go get ready, little thief. They have a combat room and gymnasium here.”

Thank the fates.

Slowly getting up, I looked back at Lazaro who was spread out and staring at me, a softness to his gaze that hadn’t been there before. I took a risk and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that I’d intended to be sweet. But in a hot second, he’d grabbed my jaw and deepened it, causing a moan to leave my throat. When he released me and I pulled back, wide-eyed, there was a slight cockiness to his expression as he nodded towards the bathroom door.

I didn’t have anything to respond with, so I just offered him a small scowl before walking to the bathroom, his chuckle telling me he’d noticed that I was out of sorts. I wished I could blame it on the nightmare, but a lot of it rested on Lazaro’s intensity and how it could take me off guard so easily.

Deciding to take a moment to gather myself, I washed my face before pulling my hair into a high ponytail. As I got dressed in a pair of dark pants and sports bra, I let my mind wander. I considered how much I still didn’t know about Astaroth’s involvement in the school, beginning with the night of that first attack.

Why had my hands been bloody? Or had that been a dream? Who was responsible for allowing that influence on campus?

Letting out a frustrated groan, I brushed my teeth and left the room, finding a pair of sneakers laid out for me as well as a water bottle. Who had…

Lazaro.It was totally him.

Walking into the main room of the space, my gaze moving around the gothic room in the light of day, I was happy to find half of my men. Grim and Cage were absent, but Oz was leafing through a large text, and Alek was drinking what appeared to be coffee. I had to assume Lazaro was off getting ready.

“Morning, zaya.” Alek looked over me with concern. “Are you feeling better? When you woke up last night…”

“It was a nightmare of the ceremonies,” I admitted as I sat between him and Oz, the latter running a hand over the side of my face and trying to subtly take my pulse. I nearly smiled at that—half the time I don’t think he even realized what he was doing.

“Fucking horrible,” Oz murmured.

“I actually told Lazaro I wanted to go work out or train, if you guys want to come with.”

Alek nodded and immediately walked towards the bedroom to change. Oz pulled me onto his lap and buried his nose against my neck, causing me to let out a happy sigh. My hands strung through his hair as he let out a low rumble that had me feeling…it was almost a primal reaction, my entire body relaxing into him.

“I’m going to come with you, but not to train,” he finally said. “I’m looking over some potions to repress nightmares, if you ever want them.”

I considered his proposition before nodding slowly. “I would like that as an option, mostly because I worry…I’ve always worried that he can track me through my dreams. Or try to influence me through them. I don’t have proof of that, but the night of the first attack when I dreamed of blood on my hands, something about it just felt…off. Really off.”

“It’s possible. He’s powerful enough to attempt it, especially if your magic is connected at all,” Lazaro said as he stepped into the room. “Come on, little thief.”

Alek stepped back into the space as Oz stood with me, the three of us making our way out the door. I nibbled my lip in thought and let out a small, tired sigh, picking up the previous conversation. “We probably are connected. He was usually the one to do the ceremony. Alek, did that influence your connection with your father?”

He nodded sharply. “Yeah, it did. But my father isn’t nearly as strong as Astaroth, so his reach is limited.”

I really needed to know how limited or unlimited Astaroth’s reach was then…

“Down these stairs, almost there,” Lazaro said as we made our way down two more staircases—the light growing increasingly dim as we entered what I had to assume was a basement.

The ceiling of the room was high to make up for the lack of light, and the materials used to define the space were more high-tech and modern. A mixture of glass and metal created a foyer that branched into three different rough-hewn passages that looked more like tunnels than hallways. The two on either side were far darker than the tunnel in the center. Lazaro led us forward, the others not seeming concerned in the least.

I, on the other hand, didn’t love the look of the other two tunnels. Outside of the odd magic that seemed to radiate off of them, there was an eerie sensation like eyes were watching me from them, specifically the left one.

“What exactly is down here besides combat and training?” I asked, my eyes darting towards each side.

“Who the hell knows,” Lazaro murmured. “It’s the Nyx family.”

“If I had to guess, weapons, precious stones⁠—”

“Creatures,” Alek offered, interrupting Oz. “I can feel living creatures down here as well.”

“Deadly ones, I’d assume.” Lazaro agreed.

Voices drifted down the passageway as we neared the combat room and gymnasium, and we entered to find it mostly empty with the exception of…Lazaro’s parents. Although his mom was in the distance talking to an older woman as they leisurely made their way through the space.

“What are you doing down here?” Lazaro asked, his brow furrowed. They weren’t exactly dressed for training.

“Your grandmother wants to see this floor.” His father shrugged and looked towards me. “She also would like to talk to Deva. Alone.”

“No,” Oz said immediately. I inhaled and looked towards the small silver-haired woman smiling at Lazaro’s mom, Ketura returning it with a warmth I hadn’t expected from her.

I looked towards my men and offered a small, hopefully reassuring smile. “I’ll be right over there. Really, it’s fine.”

Not giving them a moment to overthink it, I approached the two women. Ketura looked up at me with interest, a cautious edge to her gaze.

“Deva,” Ketura said in greeting. “We were hoping to run into you. This is Lazaro’s grandmother, and my mother, Ravette. She was at the meeting last night, but came in later.”

“It’s good to meet you,” I offered the woman, who didn’t share her daughter’s caution, her dark eyes watching me with fascination.

“It is an honor to meet you; I have waited years to do so.”

Ketura offered her a confused look as I swallowed nervously. I didn’t love the sound of that, given that so many years of my life were hidden in the shadows of a name that I no longer claimed—one given to me by a monster.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said softly, trying to control my pulse.

“Have you met Deva before, Mother?” Ketura asked. “You never mentioned that before…”

“Of course I haven’t,” Ravette chided. “It wasn’t necessary, but now that Deva is here… That is what you’re going by, correct?”

“Yes,” I whispered, hoping like hell she wasn’t about to bring up the name only Astaroth’s people had known me by. I mean, there was no way, right?

“Beautiful name,” she commented while putting her hand in her pocket, pulling out a dark blue cloth book. “I believe you are related to a friend that I lost nearly two decades ago…you are a near replica of Wynna, so I would be shocked to hear otherwise.”

“Wynna…” My voice trailed off as she flipped open to a picture and everything around me came to a complete halt.

That dream—the one of me in the nursery and the woman that had been looking over me. The woman staring out of the picture, smiling next to Ravette and another woman I didn’t know…that woman was my mom. I had never been so sure of anything in my life.

“Wynna was the daughter of my best friend. We lost both of them when you were very young…before we lost you.”