A Clash of Storms (A Shade of Vampire #50)(31)

Before I knew it, I was so deep, so lost in Asherak’s charms that I willingly gave him my soul. He ate it all up. He swallowed me whole, and I welcomed it. My bones broke. My muscles swelled, mind-numbing pain flaring through me as my serpent nature consumed my physical body and I became a Destroyer.

The massive creature looking back at me from the mirror in my throne room. The yellow eyes. The retracting fangs. The forked tongue. And all that power surging through me, fueling my hatred for those who had looked down on me, who had made me feel inadequate.

I wasn’t inadequate anymore, though.

I was strong. I was powerful. I could do anything I pleased. I’d embraced the darkness inside me. I’d given it everything it wanted, and, in return, it made me into a force to be reckoned with. One that even the Daughters of Eritopia didn’t wish to deal with, especially after I’d snatched their sister from Mount Agrith.

One by one, the planets fell under my control. The people had a choice—obey and serve me, or go out and die in the wilderness. I had no room for traitors in my ranks. Those I considered a threat I immediately killed. On some I took mercy, shoving them into cages, solely because they’d never really done anything against me. They’d never belittled me. They’d never looked down on me.

And yet, after all those years, after losing Genevieve, after spilling Almus’s blood, after conquering the entire galaxy, I was once more staring at my reflection in the mirror, feeling inadequate. My volcanoes were gone. My Daughter of Eritopia was gone. And a little Druid, a snotty bastard with silvery eyes and too much magic on his hands, had managed to bring back an emotion I’d sworn I would never feel again.

Inadequacy.

But Asherak wasn’t done with me. I felt his voice thundering through my head in that instant, as another explosion rumbled through the western hills and the screams of dying incubi filled the sky.

Your power is draining, Azazel. He sounded calm, but I could feel his anger coursing through my veins.

I didn’t move my lips, but my reflection in the mirror did, as if speaking on his behalf.

How could you allow this? You’ve gotten soft, Azazel. Confident. Too confident.

He was right. I’d enjoyed the feeling of invincibility for so long, I’d completely disregarded the possibility of a creature brave or stupid enough to defy me. To slip through the cracks and dismantle the empire I’d spent so much time building, brick by brick.

It’s not over yet, Azazel. The Daughter may be gone. The volcanoes may be gone. But we both know where your real power comes from. Asherak smiled at me, wearing my face, my yellow eyes.

Indeed, I felt it broiling in me, pulsating through every fiber of my muscles and trickling through my veins. The darkness I’d embraced so many moons ago. The darkness that had pushed me to kill. To lie. To cheat and steal. To do everything I could until I got everything I wanted. It was still there.

I’m still here, he said.

And I had plenty of tricks up my sleeve. Plenty of ways to make one unruly Druid regret the day he ever came out of hiding to defy me.

I took a deep breath as the castle shuddered from another explosion. The enormous golden chandelier dangling from the black stone ceiling overhead creaked. I went over to the north wall, where two rectangular stones were slightly pushed out. I pushed them both in, and they clicked into place.

The wall trembled and grumbled as it moved back a foot and to the side, revealing a hidden chamber I’d set up centuries ago. Amber flames burst onto the wall-mounted torches as I walked in. The walls were covered in glass vials, carefully affixed one next to the other, each holding a blood sample I’d taken from various persons of interest. All my followers had been instructed to do the same, and every week I was given new samples from creatures they’d met through their voyages, creatures they’d thought I’d like to control if I needed to.

A cauldron was set in the middle, filled to the brim with a black liquid. I’d had it prepared decades ago, when I wasn’t sure I could fully trust Patrik after his transformation. If I’d known then what I knew now, I would’ve employed this method sooner.

I heard the rebels shouting outside.

It made me grin as I gathered an armful of vials from a recent batch and poured them all into the black liquid. I tossed them on the floor, enjoying the scratchy sound of glass breaking, then uttered a fire spell. The flame surged from my hand and lit the liquid’s surface up.

It smelled of lilies and roses, despite its highly poisonous contents. It was the most powerful blood spell I’d ever assembled. It did immeasurable damage to its victims. It bent them to my will and then some.

That’s right, Azazel… Show them who they’re dealing with.

I watched the fire die out, the black liquid simmering in the cauldron. I put my hand inside, hissing as my skin burned. I felt it then, and wrapped my fingers around it. I pulled my hand out and smiled at the sight of a small, rectangular diamond, with perfectly polished facets and a tiny thread of green glimmering inside it.

I licked the black liquid off my hand. It tasted like sweet water. Like sin.

Show them who Azazel really is, Asherak’s voice continued whispering in my ear. Show them who we are.

It was time to set the record straight. It was time to reaffirm my position. I was Azazel, Prince of Destroyers, Eater of Worlds, and Drinker of Souls. I ruled over all twenty planets of Eritopia. I owned every soul that walked my lands. I had the rivers, the oceans, the mountains, and the valleys. Even the air they all breathed was mine.