A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(44)

I followed the Druid’s advice and focused on specific snippets of the past during my visions. I wanted to find out more about what had driven Azazel over the edge, which inadvertently took me to a grandiose feast inside a massive dinner hall. Its domed ceiling was as tall as that of a Renaissance cathedral adorned with massive arches and sumptuous sculptures of Eritopian deities, hybrids of various animals carved into the white marble.

Seven enormous pillars supported the dome, sculpted in the form of the seven Daughters of Eritopia and painted in gold and lavish purple. They were accurate representations of the goddesses. They held their arms up, supporting the ceiling and the plethora of marble creatures of Eritopia’s diverse fauna across all the planets.

Ample chandeliers made with fine brushed brass and crystals hung from above, with hundreds of pink and yellow flames flickering where candles were supposed to be mounted. I chalked it up to magic and moved forward into the banquet hall. Twenty doors were carved into the circular white marble wall. They were made from solid purple wood and decorated with delicate gold floral motifs.

In the middle was a thick gold disc, serving as a platform for a superb dining table. Dinner was set for twenty, with beautiful china plates, gold-plated cutlery, silk napkins, and crystal glasses. Pink and yellow flames flickered in triple candelabra emerging from rich floral arrangements. It was an arrangement designed for royalty.

One of the doors opened. The sound of thunder and strong winds echoed from beyond. A tall man walked in. Behind him I saw darkness with specks of stardust, as if the cosmos waited in the room from which he’d emerged. He closed the door behind him and locked it with a large key, beautifully crafted with gold and fine gems. He dropped it in the pocket of his black overcoat.

The man seemed familiar, so I stepped forward to get a better look, following him as he walked up to the table. Two silhouettes emerged from the walls, ethereal figures made of white smoke that moved toward the man, bowing before him. He smiled, removing his coat and handing it to one of the creatures, while the other pulled out his chair.

He sat down. The creatures moved across the room to hang the coat behind a decorative panel made of colorful stained glass with a solid gold frame. Pitchers of water appeared on the table out of thin air, and the man poured himself a drink. The medium, sand-colored hair; his gray eyes and sharp features; and his Cupid’s bow lips and broad shoulders instantly rang a bell. I was standing next to a much younger Almus, Draven’s father.

He wore an elegant suit that reminded me of 18th century attire. He wore feather pants and a vest made of fine black velvet matched with red leather boots, a white cotton shirt, and a crimson bow tie. He went through two glasses of water in absolute silence before the sound of another door opening made us both turn our heads.

Another man walked in. Judging by his appearance, I assumed he was also a Druid. He was slightly shorter than Almus but still taller than average with a narrow waist and slender arms and legs. His sartorial tastes seemed to have a flair for the dramatic, fitting red leather trousers with lateral laces tied all the way down to his black knee-high boots. A loose white shirt and a matching red leather vest displayed a multitude of insignia mounted on his chest, and over the whole ensemble, he wore a red leather cape. He handed the cape to the smoky servants, now multiplied by two and quietly hovering around the dinner hall.

The Druid grinned at the sight of Almus. His amber eyes and long black hair were caught in a ponytail. A trimmed mustache and beard masked some of his features, contrasting with his white teeth.

“Almus! Long time, good friend!” the Druid exclaimed, walking up to Draven’s father.

Almus stood to shake his hand, then resumed his seat. He didn’t seem very happy to see Mr. Drama-Suit, but offered a polite smile nonetheless.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Azazel.”

My stomach dropped as I realized that I was in the presence of pre-Destroyer Azazel. He seemed friendly and chatty and certainly nothing like the dark monster he’d become. I balled my fists and gritted my teeth. I was barely holding it together. Then I remembered that I was nothing but a ghost there, unable to do anything to prevent all the horrors that Azazel would become famous for.

“When was the last time we saw each other, Almus? Your inauguration day?”

Almus nodded with a nostalgic smile, as Azazel took a seat next to him and poured himself a glass of water infused with red rose petals.

“It seems only yesterday, though,” Azazel added. “You were so green and sweaty and nervous as they handed you the keys to the seventh kingdom of Eritopia!”

“I was lucky,” Almus replied.

“No, my friend. You earned it!”

Azazel rolled his sleeves up, revealing dozens of thick rings tattooed on his forearms, from his wrists all the way to the elbows. He showed them to Almus, beaming with pride.

“You earned it, my friend. All one hundred rings adorn your arms as they do mine, symbols of the highest rank among the Druids. You are the rightful ruler of the seventh kingdom. It had nothing to do with luck, and you know it. Stop being so modest! It will get you nowhere!”

Almus laughed.

“How have you been? How is your first year as one of us? Finding your little slice of Eritopia manageable?” Azazel grinned.

“It hasn’t been easy, I have to admit. I may be in charge of the smallest of our twenty planets, but believe me when I say that Persea as a kingdom is quite the handful. I’ve been dealing with a lot of corruption. I’ve just cleaned out the agricultural department, demoting all the chiefs to field labor as they were practically holding the meat farms hostage for unnecessary fees.” Almus sighed.