Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(45)

I pressed the tip of the knife against his heart and stared up into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lord of Chaos. But this is where we part.”

He glanced down at the knife. When he looked back at me, a faint smile dimpled his cheek. “Well, this is certainly unexpected.”

“Take one step back, Orion. Like I said, I need more time here.”

The wind ruffled his silver hair, and his eyes pierced me. “Why?”

I smiled back. “Just some things I need to take care of. I’d ask you to help, but I really don’t think you have it in you. Now why don’t you take a step back and leave the important stuff to me? I am, after all, the Lightbringer.”

He arched a quizzical eyebrow. “Is this what it feels like to be patronized?”

“It’s actually very enjoyable, you know. I can see why you do it.

Now fuck off, love.” I pressed the knife a little harder against him. It was, according to my guess, just above his heart. I didn’t want to kill him, of course. I wanted him trapped on the other side of Purgatory.

“Please don’t make me end your life.”

He sighed and leaned down, his face close to mine. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’re not capable of it, then. But why, exactly, would you want to stay

without me? You really don’t think you can—”

h ere

He reached for my wrist, but I headbutted him—hard, slamming my forehead into his nose. He stumbled back and disappeared in a flash of light.

I stared at the space where he’d been and rubbed the ache in my forehead.

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered, “for making me take those self-defense classes.”

IN GOODY PUTNAM’S INN, I sipped a pewter flagon of hot beer. I’d been here all day. On the one hand, she kept asking me to make a public penance. On the other, it was nice and warm inside, with a cozy fire, hot beer, and soup.

Sharp-eyed, Goody Putnam approached me with an expression of concern. She leaned over the table, eyes darting in either direction.

“Goodman Ashur told me what happened to the hunters last night. But why would a woman be among them? It isn’t natural.”

Without Orion here to charm her, she made me pay double for food and drink. Good thing I was the one carrying the coins.

I put my finger to my lips. She knew I’d taken a vow of silence, and it saved me from having to fake an accent—and also from trying to figure out the old-fashioned grammar. From what I could tell, they said “you” when they were being polite and “thou” when they wanted to scream that you were a devil-shagging whore. But I didn’t quite have the intricacies down, so it was better to keep my mouth shut.

She narrowed her eyes and pressed her palms on the table as she leaned closer. “Were you with the Malleus Daemoniorum, Goody Ashur, or did you separate yourselves from them for your own safety? Maybe you saw the devil?”

There it was again—that strange name. I simply put my finger to my lips again piously.

She nodded slowly. “Aye, the devil murdered our demon-finders.

Burned them. Hacked them. Feasted on their bones. True evil.” She bowed her head. “You are blessed to have survived.”

Not exactly, Goody Putnam.

THE FLAGON WARMED my hands as I entered the dark woods. I’d spent all day at the inn, filling my stomach and warming myself by the fire.

As I’d walked through the forest, the setting sun had tinted the clouds with shades of periwinkle and cherry. With night falling, I wound my way between elms and yews, searching for the Dying God again.

Once the daylight disappeared completely, silver light streamed through the tree branches, casting glittering flecks of silver on the mossy earth.

The deeper I walked, the colder I felt, and my breath clouded around me. But the shawl was a huge improvement, warm wool that covered my back and shoulders.

The forest grew darker as I searched, and a chorus of whispers echoed off the trees—my own name repeated over and over until it started to sound meaningless and bizarre.

At last, I sensed the charged magic of the Dying God. A low, guttural growl trembled through the boughs, making my hair stand on end.

The symbols of Tammuz carved through the darkness, bright slashes of light from the shadows. Dread turned my blood to ice, and my heart started to race.

“Tammuz… ” I whispered his name, waiting for him to appear. Then, a little louder, “Tammuz.”

Cold wind rushed between the trees, stinging my cheeks and fingers, and darkness streamed around me, blocking out the moonlight. A rush of primordial power skittered up my spine, making my back arch, and I nearly dropped the shawl.

It took me a moment to recall the words of the strange spell Orion had uttered last night. Even if I didn’t know what the words meant, they’d been branded in my mind.

I spoke the words, power surging through my veins and lighting me up like the symbols around me.

From the dark earth, a ring of ivory mushrooms sprouted, and from a glittering swirl of snow, the Dying God slowly appeared in the center of the ring. Smoky shadows twined with the snowflakes.

“You summon me again, Lightbringer.” His deep, growling voice trembled over the forest.

My breath shallowed. “Did you want me to hear what Orion will do if he becomes king?”

Tammuz faded into the darkness, reappearing behind my shoulder.