14. Chapter 14

Cyn's arms slid off my and Eli's shoulders as we entered Denial's ruined ward again. He ran a hand through my damp hair, still wet from our quick post-sex bath in the lake before dressing.

"Stupid fucking Malachar with his stupid shitty riddle," he grumbled, giving both Elias and me a quick, passionate kiss before walking out from between us.

Eli grabbed his wrist, holding him back. "Are you sure you're fine? Are you hurting? Any symptoms?"

"Was shooting my load in your ass not enough to prove my virility?" Cyn grinned and twisted from Elias' hold. He cupped his face, thumbs skimming over the edges of the bandages covering his eyes. "You can stop worrying. I'm okay. Thanks to you and Myna."

I smiled, though the corners of my mouth felt heavy.

We had saved Cyn, but it was a temporary victory. Our fate yet hung in the balance, and Malachar held all the cards.

Cyn set an unusually soft kiss on Eli's nose before he spun around. He grabbed one of the small fruits by the destroyed altar, using his sleeve to polish the red peel to a shine. A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as he took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. He tossed it to me with a wink, and I caught it entirely on reflex.

"Eat it. It's safe," Cyn said. "The Demon would know if it wasn't."

I turned the fruit in my hand before digging in. The firm, pink flesh had a tartness to it, crunching between my teeth. It was refreshing, the flavor a mixture of apples and oranges.

Cyn sauntered toward where he'd dropped his weapons, strapping both cleaver and whip to his belt. I finished eating in a few bites before tossing the stone out of a window and checking on the makeshift bandage around my hand.

My palm still twinged, but I'd cleaned the cut in the lake and applied a few leaves of Silvermint from Denial's potted garden to numb the pain and prevent infection. Covered with a long scrap of cloth from the bottom of my tunic, my hand was pretty much fully functional.

"Where is the damn key?" Cyn shouted as he shoved one hand beneath a nearby bed, flipping it over. The corpse tumbled from it, crumbling into a pile of ash and bone. The frame landed at an awkward angle atop it, breaking with a creak and a snap. "Shit, this place is massive. It could be anywhere, other parts of the building even. This will take fucking hours!"

Eli let out a sigh. He walked to Denial's corpse and crouched. He lifted the fabric of her robe, inspecting her neck and patting down her pockets.

"The key is not on her. She didn't even seem consciously aware of its existence. But perhaps there is something in her memories to help our search," Eli said. He reached down and tugged on Denial's hand, bringing her forearm to his mouth. His face twisted, lips pulling back.

"I didn't want you to see this, Myna. Didn't want you to know—not yet at least. I'd rather you never knew, but I don't wish to lie to you, either."

My head tilted as I moved closer. "What are you talking about, Eli?"

"Little one, do you remember the tale of Dianya feasting on the bodies of her enemies, consuming them to gain their power?"

"Of course. You read the Sanguine Sermon to me so many times, I know it by heart. Every word." I cleared my throat, straightening. "And from the shell of their broken skulls, Dianya supped on their knowledge. From their eyes, she drew their vision. And from their marrow, she sucked their strength."

A smile as fleeting as the breeze flitted across Elias' features. Then his brow furrowed, chin lowering. "I recall the way you cringed at this passage when we were children, pulling your dirt-specked knees to your chest, grimacing as you sat beside me in the orphanage's attic. And I fear you will soon look upon me with the same disgust."

I shook my head, hair flying. "Creators, no! I was a stupid, scared little girl. Everything scared me then. Now I would never—"

"I'm a carrion mystic, Myna. My powers aren't the same as Dianya's, but they are … similar enough. Repulsive enough. In your stead, I wouldn't touch a being as wretched as I. Cynthian's Demon might demand blood, but mine is worse, it—"

His lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but no words sounded.

I crept around the dried ooze to stand at his back and laid my hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and my chest grew tight.

"I forbid you from speaking this horribly about yourself, Elias." My fingers dusted along the nape of his neck, goosebumps rising across his skin. "I can't believe you'd think me so easily repelled. You're stuck with me."

His shoulders sunk with another long sigh.

"I swear on this heart beating right here behind my ribs with unconditional love for you …" My other hand found my chest, clenching into a fist. "I will not love you less for your powers or your deeds, may they be evil or kind, gruesome or beautiful. Nor will I love you less for your failures or your shortcomings. Not now and not when we are old and gray."

Silence hovered between us. My breath stilled as I waited for his response, hoping I had gotten through to him.

"As you wish, my beloved sister. I shall tell you everything." Eli inspected his free hand for traces of demonic blood before he reached for mine. He chuckled, relief and a tinge of playful defeat in his low laughter. "My Demon craves flesh, but that urge comes with powers of its own. Usually, necromancers summon the souls of the deceased to commune with, yet a spirit may forget or refuse information, especially when roused by its executioner. Exceptionally powerful casters can sometimes force the dead to speak against their will. But the body always remembers."

He shook Denial's limb, all eyes narrowing as he looked at it.

"Whether the soul is willing has no bearing. The record of suffering is carved into the tissue, a testament written in blood and bile. And so is love. Joy. Sadness. I don't need their skulls or brains to connect with their souls. I decipher the echoes of their flesh. Any lump will suffice to procure a reading, even from other partially demonic entities. Though my Demon requires mortal meat to satisfy his urges, to feed him, and for that purpose, the body must be relatively fresh."

My brows curved upward. "Astounding … You don't just raise the dead. You're a flesh reader like the wise priests worshipping the Creators in olden times!"

Elias nodded, hesitation in the movement. "Yes, though, as much as it brings me shame to admit, I do not enjoy it. Consuming even a single bite, I witness a person's greatest moments of success and loss, their strongest emotions. They feel as real as mine own. I see their loved ones and their enemies in flashes of recollection. And their death—I feel their death as if it was my own, too. I feel the anguish of their last, ragged breath, experience the desperate fight of their heart's last contraction."

My eyes followed the bend of Denial's elbow to where Elias gripped her wrist, fingers sinking in.

"D-does it work on the living?" I whispered.

Elias hummed, a hint of pink creeping along his high cheekbones, disappearing beneath the bandages over his eyes. "Yes. Minus the moment of their passing, naturally. Though with the living, the reading is mostly focused on their emotions and sensations in that moment. The experience can be very … pleasant."

My head swam with the morbidly fascinating implications of his concurrence. If I let him taste me, would he know how much I loved him? Would he know the depths of my affection, those emotions so dark and all-encompassing, I could never find words good enough to express them?

If Elias devoured a piece of my flesh, would he know my soul better than I knew myself?

Maybe we had the same wayward thought. Eli lifted my hand to his mouth, a coil of fire flickering at my center as his lips parted. His tongue mapped the stretch of my fingers and the valleys of my knuckles, sliding along the mosaic of sinew shifting under my skin.

I shivered, my stomach in tangles of uncertainty, wound ever tighter by a whisper of arousal. A brush of his teeth drew a gasp from my lungs, but he didn't bite, didn't harm. He set a reverent kiss on the tip of each finger and released me.

"Thank you, Myna," he said. "Thank you for seeing more than the monster in me."

He turned, sinking his teeth into Denial's forearm. Black blood flowed down his chin as he tore out a piece and dropped the limb. He chewed, brows pinched, a groan of disgust in his throat. As he swallowed, the eyes on his chest turned from flaming amber to milky white.

Elias slumped, all tension leaving his body as his head tipped back. Cyn jumped next to us, kneeling to catch and support Eli. Our brother sat motionless, his thirteen eyes shuttering. As if death had claimed him, too, his breath stuttered, then halted.

Wringing my hands, I counted the seconds.

"Shouldn't take long. Pretty scary watching this the first time though," Cyn said, smiling at me, brushing over Elias' side in broad, gentle strokes. "It's only like that with corpses, the whole passing out deal. Like he's eating their death, infecting himself with it. When I first saw it, I fucking panicked. Thought the prick had kicked the bucket." He snickered, embracing Eli, and though his words were rough, every syllable was steeped in adoration.

"Has he tasted …" I glanced between them. "Has he tasted you?"

"Fuck yes he has!" Cyn cackled. "I knew he wanted to try, but he wouldn't ask. You know him, he never asks for anything for himself. So, I ordered him to do it when we were fucking. I can't sate his Demon's hunger, only mortal flesh does. But oh boy, it sure had some effect."

Blood rushed to my cheeks. "W-what happened?" I asked, my voice a pitch too high.

"He came on the spot. Mumbled something about how he sampled my pleasure, felt what I felt, as if our nerves and emotions were intertwined for that short moment."

Elias lurched. His eyes shot open as he sucked in a long breath, his forehead shimmering with sweat.

"Glad to have you back, Eli," I said, unclasping my fingers, my posture sagging. Despite Cyn's reassurance, seeing Eli unconscious had rattled me.

"Welcome back, brother. How was the trip?" Cyn asked, giving him an unapologetically smug smirk.

"By the Creators, Cyn. Awful. It was awful—as always. It's always the same answer to the same question." Eli was trying to sound annoyed, massaging his temples. But as Cyn wrapped a loose hand around his throat and leaned in to kiss him, he smiled.

"And the key?" I asked.

"Try the statue Cyn smashed. Her memories were fragmented, corrupted by the demonic presence inside her. But I saw her praying at the altar often, and the figure rattled when she picked it up."

"Thank you, handsome," Cyn said as he rose, his hands slipping underneath Eli's arms, pulling him to a stand, too. He ambled to the desecrated altar, cursing as he sifted through the shards of broken ceramic and other debris.

"Little one," Eli said, tone tense. "Now that you've seen what I am … Are you still certain you're not disgust—"

"Don't even finish that question." I locked my fingers with his clean hand, leaning against his side. "I'd kiss you too if you didn't have acidic Demon blood all over your lips. Does that answer your question?"

He inclined his head gracefully. "It does. I shall wash out my mouth before we leave so you can follow those words up with actions."

"You look fucking adorable together," Cyn shouted, giggling, and I watched Eli's face flushing with the same heat tickling mine. "Could look at you all damn day, but I found the key!" He held it up, fanged grin wider than ever. "I gotta clean up my kisser, too, but then let's get outta here. Way too cheery and hot for my liking."