The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #4)(72)

“What about Dashara and Davahni?” Rose demanded, her voice rising in panic. She could feel the delicate connection between them fading as clearly as he could.

“Gone,” Seth answered softly as his magic faded completely. Spots had begun to dance before his eyes as Hemlock’s poison tore at him.

Hemlock moved closer to him, his dark blue eyes locking on Seth’s. “I won’t find him,” he whispered, the words barely audible despite how close he stood. “Honor among rogues and all. I told you the boy would live, and he will.”

“How f*cking noble,” Seth growled as Hemlock released him from the magic that held him in place. His legs buckled beneath him and he dropped to his knees staring down at his entrails. His own blood was pooling thick on the floor, making a slow trail toward Dashara. His gaze trailed slowly up the chair once more past her ruined body to her face. Her dark eyes were fixed firmly on him. A strangled gasp broke from his lips as he realized she still lived, he had thought her dead.

“Suffer,” she hissed, her voice harsh from her torn throat. He knew her mind had fractured from the torture, yet the word still tore into him with more pain than any physical wound.

“Let go, Dashara,” Seth whispered, hoping she would listen. His agony was nothing compared to what she must be feeling right now.

“Please, just let go,” he added in a choked voice.

“By the Divine, is that bitch still alive?” Hemlock gasped as he turned to face Dashara. “Don’t ever take up the life of an Assassin, Donrey, you fail at killing,” he added as his dagger slashed across Dashara’s throat. Turning back to Seth, Hemlock smiled coldly. “I promise she has let go now and it’s time for you to do the same.” His dagger was already moving as he spoke.

Seth rubbed his face as the vision cleared and slumped back against the wall. The room made each memory painfully real, as if he was living it again. He had avoided remembering Dashara for so long, despite all the little reminders Death had forced him to endure. Now it was all back like an old wound torn open. The fact that he hadn’t been able to kill Donrey himself simply made it worse. Hands pressed over his face, he slid slowly down the wall and tried not to think of her, or of anything for that matter.

He couldn’t handle another vision and the door to the room wouldn’t reopen for several more minutes. Death had intentionally designed the room that way. It was difficult to avoid thinking about something once you had just re-lived it, and if he wasn’t careful, he would be caught in a loop of torment. It was one of the reasons he avoided this room as often as he could, and he was sure it was the reason Death had created it this way. It ensured that he did everything she asked of him quickly, and without question, no matter how much he hated the task. Over the years, he had whored himself to the Divine, killed innocents, stolen souls, and countless other sins, simply to avoid facing his past.

A dim glow began to emanate from the door and Seth scrambled to his feet. He was waiting the moment the door cracked open, and hastily pushed his way into the hall. With a sigh he leaned back against the wall as the room sealed behind him, locking away his entire life within.

“Penance. That’s an unusual past time for you,” Yasny murmured from the shadows near his door. She was watching him with a look of cool amusement on her perfect face. As a dragon, Yasny was terrifying with dark red scales and spines that covered her skull and shoulders. In her human form, however, she preferred seduction as a weapon and it was well honed. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders like silk, while her full lips held just enough of a smile to tease. It was an expression that worked well on most men. It had never worked on him, though. He knew Yasny too well. She was cruel and ruthless and had most definitely earned her place in the Darklands.

He didn’t want to kill her, though. Making friends had never been easy for Seth in life, and in the Darklands it was impossible. The best he could hope for was finding the few individuals that he could hold a conversation with that didn’t end in him attempting to devour their soul. Yasny was one of the few that he had found that fit that criterion. Tonight, however, she was testing his limits. He had too much to do before Zoelyn woke to waste effort on Yasny and her petty games.

“Not even a response? Just a glare?” Yasny sighed with an obvious pout.

“I don’t have time for this, Yasny,” Seth replied bluntly, hoping the admission of truth would satisfy the dragon. “You want to know what is in the room. You want to know what I’m doing with the girl. You want to know so much and you know I’m not going to tell you anything, so please, can we just cut the crap for tonight and I will go on my way. If we must play, then we can play this game tomorrow night, but right now I honestly do not have time,” he added the moment he noticed her back stiffen and her expression growing stormy. Yasny could be difficult when irritated and he didn’t like the thought of leaving Zoelyn alone while she was feeling petulant.

“I want to know why you can be so charming when dealing with others, but I always have to deal with the bitchy Seth,” Yasny grumbled, though her posture had relaxed.

“Because I want something from them, so I’m charming. That should reassure you, Yasny. It means I’m not trying to use you,” Seth muttered as he moved past her in the hall and started down the stairs.

“It would be nice once in a while, Seth,” Yasny snapped from behind him. “Can’t you be charming without wanting something from someone?” she added in a louder voice as he crossed the landing toward the slender window.