FREE NOVELLA CHAPTER Chapter Thirteen
Demon Heart by Kiss Carson
Copyright 2021
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bright light poured from above, shone directly onto Dominique's face and effectively blinded her to her surroundings. She shielded her eyes with her hand but the brilliance still filtered through her fingers. As far as she could tell she sat on a solid surface, cold and hard, like cement.
“Hello.” Her voice echoed. She held both hands in front of the light but still couldn’t see. “Hello,” she called again.
The light snapped out. Darkness touched her skin and settled on her hair. Only her trembling breaths punctuated the obscurity as she searched the ground for clues of where Dorian had left her. The ground ended within a hand’s breadth of her body. Dominique stopped moving.
How high was she?
She stared into the black void and silently pleaded for Zachary to save her. Even Gagan. Anyone. Suddenly, she was bathed in cool radiance, barely bright enough to see. The light radiated outward, crept slowly through the darkness until the huge cavern was alive with shadows. She sat on the top of a narrow pillar of rock with a circumference wide enough for her to sit cross-legged. Carefully, she peered over the edge of the platform. Pockets of mist hung in the air and the distant sound of water came from directly below.
Shrill laughter, combined with low inhuman moans, came from above. Slowly, she raised her eyes. Thousands of shadow specters floated across the ceiling of the cavern like huge, ghoulish bats. Making no sudden movements, she looked for the nearest exit. Her gaze met rock walls but no doorways. A high-pitched scream brought her attention back to the specters circling high above. Three specters left the hoard and plummeted straight for her. Dominique scanned the scant rock where she sat, her heart wild in her chest, but Dorian hadn’t left any weapons to help her survive. The specters screeched. Her hands continued their blind search of where she sat.
Finally, her fingers landed on the thick black belt with the dagger slipped snuggly into its scabbard. She let out a cry of relief and planted a thankful kiss onto the flat of the blade. A hasty plan formed in her head as she lay flat on her back, lower legs dangling over the edge. The shadow specters spiraled lower and lower. She held the dagger tightly, her palms moist despite the cool air. Breathe. Her chest heaved. The specters were so close that she saw straight through their evil grins.
The demons screamed and prepared to attack. Dominique squeezed her eyes closed. She thrust the dagger, cringed expectantly, and waited for the loss of breath and co-ordination brought on by a specter fly through. When the sensation never came she opened her eyes. Two gems hung on the air. Another shadow specter careened toward her. She flinched but the beastie exploded into a waterfall of ash. More green gems appeared. Then, she spied the shimmer of a protection barrier. She let out a gust of breath and fell to lie down again. Dorian hadn’t left her entirely high and dry. Thank goodness.
A specter hit the barrier with a thud and burst into a billion granules. The barrier shuddered. The sharp sound of cracking glass echoed through the cavern. She didn’t have long before the spell weakened and eventually disintegrated. With renewed panic, Dominique rolled onto her stomach and edged over the shelf so she could scan the tower of rock. There had to be a way down.
By now, a continuous parade of shadow specters crashed into the barrier from every direction. A collection of gems and vials gathered. Dominique studied the barrier, now more visible. She wouldn’t be protected much longer. On her hands and knees, she carefully moved in a circle and lowered to her stomach. She was a character in a computer game. There was always a way out.
Under the platform and to her right, a thick brass lever poked from the column of rock. She shuffled around until the lever sat directly under her. Grunting, Dominique extended her arm but couldn’t reach. From this angle she noticed two foot rests below the lever. Relief slowly turned to anxiety. She had to climb down.
The barrier shuddered. A thick crack appeared in the opaque wall. Dominique swore under her breath. Dorian hadn’t made her escape easy. She swiveled on her stomach and dropped her legs over the side of the plateau. Her arms wobbled under the strain of her weight as she carefully lowered her body. One foot hit the lever. She felt around with the other foot but couldn’t find any sort of hold. More and more specters attacked. The ragged fracture grew. Desperate, now, Dominique knew there was only one way down. If she wanted to live she had to fall. She looked down and her stomach lurched. The river snaked through the landscape, too far below if she missed her mark.
“Okay,” she murmured. “You can do this.”
Without giving herself time to think, she pushed away from the rock shelf. Legs pedaling, she dropped through the air. The lever rushed up to meet her. With a loud cry of determination, she threw her arms out and came to abrupt stop. Pain shot through her left shoulder and arm. Dominique screamed a curse. Regardless of the pain, she clung to the thick metal handle and searched with her toes until she found the foot rests.
“Don’t think,” she whispered to herself. “Just don’t think. Whoa!” she cried when she almost lost her precarious balance. She grasped the handle with both hands and stood straight. Muscles in her legs trembled, her shoulder hurt like crazy, and her stomach had clenched tight – but she hadn’t killed herself.
A shadow specter floated beside her at eye level. Dominique gave the lever one turn. The sound of wheels and pulleys came from outside the barrier. She turned the handle again. Pain shot through her shoulder but she continued to turn the handle until double doors made entirely of silver suspended outside the barrier. One more rotation of the lever and the barrier that protected her from the shadow specters shattered.
Shadow specters swirled around Dominique but they didn’t dare come close to the silver door still suspended high above the ground. Only a body length of open air bridged the gap between her and the ledge that ran along the bottom of the doors. She could jump it – easy. But the angle was awkward, and then there was the complication of the shadow specters. One could easily knock her off projection as she jumped. Then, well…
Dominique pushed the thought from her mind. Instead, she used all her concentration and energy to jump the short distance. Her foot slipped off the ledge. She threw her body against the smooth metal of the door and closed her eyes, relieved she hadn’t fallen. The silver expanded and retracted as though the door took a breath. Sadness oozed through the crack between the double doors. So much sadness.
Once certain of her stability, she opened her eyes. Instead of the usual battle scene and angel holding the Hope Stone, the etching of a man decorated the door. She craned her head to study his closed eyes, long face, and the strands of hair that fell to his shoulders. A beard of silver thread cascaded to his collar bone, stopping shy of the picture of a key – the same key Zachary had worn on a lanyard around his neck. Etched hands clutched the plain cross hilt of a broadsword, the blade extending beyond his head until the blade’s tip pierced a heart shaped stone.
Pain stabbed Dominique's chest. She inhaled sharply. In an attempt to ease the pain she pressed her hands to her breast. The stone shard tore at her insides, burned and tunneled, the pain much worse than she experienced with the previous door. Breathing became difficult and she fell to her knees. The piece of Hope Stone pushed further through her chest. She wrapped her arms around her middle, careful not to fall from the precipice. Gasping breaths came at uneven intervals. Hurt, more severe than she expected burst through her body. Her pain filled scream rebounded off the rock walls of the caverns, stilled and silenced the shadow specters.
Finally released from its prison, the Hope Stone shard floated to door and slotted into a round hole. A dial turned. Unseen power pulsated outward. The double doors slowly opened and split the etching of the man right down the middle. Fog crept from behind the door, crawled across the ledge and enveloped Dominique like a cool blanket. Her body felt heavy, her heart, hollow. She couldn’t move, and didn’t need to. The fog lifted her body and carried her through the open doors to deposit her on the cold ground. Slowly, the fog rolled back into the shadows of the surrounding trees.
Dominique's pain subsided enough for her to become aware of her surroundings. She lay on the snowy ground, damp and cold. Ahead stood the cabin Zachary had taken her to a few days before. Surrounded by the shadows of early evening, the building didn’t look so run down, and the cheery glow of a fire filtered through the closed windows. A child’s laughter trickled through the walls followed by a woman’s teasing giggle. With an aching groan, Dominique stood and picked her way along the icy path to the ajar front door. Snowdrops grew through the snow, the same flowers that had adorned her tiara at Oasis. She managed to smile. That night she’d propositioned Zachary more than once. Her shoulders lifted with a deep sigh. Memories. Zachary had burrowed deep into her psyche. Now, she would never be able to forget him.
She ascended the two stairs and stood to the side of the partially open door. A woman stood at the hearth and stirred liquid in a charred cauldron. Her dark hair fell from a ponytail in perfect spirals, and her bright blue eyes shone with adoration as she watched a boy. He sat at the square table where Dominique sat only days before, his head bent over a drawing he carefully colored.
Realizing she couldn’t be seen, Dominique entered and gravitated toward the hearth. The aroma of curry filled the small house, mingled with freshly baked bread and the pungent smell of rosemary. Warmth encased her, not from the hearty fire, but from love, family, and happiness. She had felt this contented once before, in Jaye’s arms. The warmth subsided for a moment but the woman’s proud smile as she gazed at her son lifted Dominique's heavy heart.
“Color the flowers yellow, Zachary,” the woman said. “Green grass and blue water.” She ruffled his black hair and turned back to the cauldron.
“I know, mama.” The boy looked up. No more than ten years old, Dominique saw the man he would grow to be—minus the guarded heart. His grey eyes glowed with happiness, something she’d never seen in the adult Zachary's eyes.
Footsteps crunched on the snow outside the cabin. The eerie whistle of a melancholy song hung in the air. Dominique had heard it before but couldn’t remember where. Beside her, the woman’s back went rigid. Fear filled her lovely eyes. She dropped the spoon and it clattered to the floor, the sound ringing through the early evening. Heavy boots thumped on the wooden floor. The woman snatched the boy from the chair and hugged him close as she backed away. Dominique stumbled, startled when the woman stared straight at her. Then, she realized the woman looked through her at the open door.
“Did you think you could hide him forever, Chana?” The owner of the deep, menacing voice stepped into the light, his resemblance to Zachary uncanny. He raised his weapon, the same sword Zachary now wielded; Aemon’s sword. Even in the throes of battle, the current demon lord had never achieved such a look of malevolence.
Chana crushed the boy to her. “How can I hide him in plain sight, Aemon?”
Zachary gazed up at his mother, eyes wide. “What is wrong, mama? Who is this man?”
Aemon looked at Chana as though she’d stabbed him in the stomach. “The child knows nothing of me?”
Chana lifted her chin. “You know nothing of him.”
“I know you have taught the boy weakness. I can see by his soft hands and trusting eyes that you have not fulfilled your duties.” Aemon stepped through Dominique. She drew in a breath and held it when he stopped to glance around as though he’d heard her. He turned to Chana. “What magic have you conjured?” he demanded. “There is someone else here.”
Dominique slowly retreated until her back touched the bricks of the hearth.
“No, Aemon, Isha—.”
“Isha,” he hissed. “I condemn that witch. Zachary was forged in the heat of fire. He is a demon, Chana, mighty and strong. You have shown him nothing. You have betrayed the Demon Lord and all of Demon Realm.”
“I have shown our son how to love. I taught Zachary that, no matter what, there is good in everyone.” Chana stood straight and brave before her husband. “You have already destroyed one boy.” She pointed to the darkness beyond the open door. “I’ll not have you harm Zachary.”
Aemon raised his sword. “Your lessons have been wasted for in time the boy will be a warrior with a heart of stone.”
Chana stared at Dominique. Right at her. “Be brave. Zachary is coming,” she whispered.
Dominique blinked. Within that moment, the blade of Aemon’s sword followed an arced line through the air, fast and powerful. Chana’s head fell to the floor. Dominique's shrill scream filled the cabin. Aemon turned in her direction and she covered her mouth with her hands. She looked into his eyes, nothing like Zachary's serene grey orbs, and fought the urge to run like hell.
Crying, Zachary ran across the cabin and into Isha’s arms. The high priestess hadn’t changed a bit. When she saw Aemon, surprise turned her face white. Then, she saw Chana’s decapitated body. A low groan started deep in her chest and she clutched Zachary close, turning his face away from his mother.
“What have you done?” she demanded of Aemon.
“What I should have done years ago,” he replied. “I have tolerated Chana longer than I deem appropriate. The boy is now mine to mold.”
“You loved her,” Isha said, her tone disbelieving.
“The continuation of the Demon Lord is more important than love will ever be.” Aemon tugged Zachary to him and lifted the small boy to eye level. “Do not ever love,” he told his son. “The woman you love will suffer the same fate, not by my hand, but by yours. I guarantee it.” He dropped his son. The boy collapsed to his knees and sobbed into his hands. Aemon shoved him with his boot. “Stop groveling and get moving. You can walk to the palace. It will be the first step to your rehabilitation.”
Dominique still covered her mouth with her hands. Finally, Zachary's aversion to love and marriage made sense.
“Allow me a moment with the boy,” Isha ordered rather than asked.
“Make it fast. He will slow me down by days.”
Isha kneeled beside Zachary. She cupped his face in her hands and brushed tears away with her thumbs. “You will fare well,” she said quietly. “Learn your lessons, Zachary, and you will be a great warrior. Your heart will never turn to stone, do you hear me?”
Zachary's bottom lip trembled as he glanced at his mother’s body. “It is too late,” he whispered. “I was born with a stone heart and I will never love. Not ever.”
A sudden pulse of energy made Dominique stumble. A second wave knocked her to the ground. The cabin, its occupant and contents disappeared, and she found she lay on the ground of the cavern. She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands. She would never forget the fear on Chana’s face, or Aemon’s expression of cruel delight. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes. The doors had to open so the game could carry on, but the pain – emotional and physical – was real. Her distress was all human. She wasn’t a demon, or a game character, and she hurt all over.
Dominique dropped her hands to her sides and stared into the darkness high above where shadow specters swooped and glided. They would find her soon. Carefully, she moved her head on the uneven rocky ground. Her neck creaked. She winced. Her jaw cracked. Despite her predicament, she chuckled.
“Ouch. Ouch.”
Her chuckle turned to a moan and she rubbed her shoulder. Twenty metres to her right the river she’d seen from atop the pillar gurgled its way through rugged landscape. To her left, shadows loomed from between the trees of a dense forest. Neither way appealed to her, not that she planned to move anytime soon. She closed her eyes. Chana’s body flashed through her mind. Dominique sat up. Sharp pain stabbed her shoulder. She cursed loudly and massaged the sore muscle.
Footsteps approached on the uneven ground. Black knee high boots with buckles fastened from ankle to knee stopped beside her. Shiny studs decorated each buckle strap. She didn’t have to look up to know Dorian stood there. If she could, she would have run from the white haired man but her apprehension couldn’t quite push past the pain that radiated from nearly every joint and muscle.
“I see you have survived the shadow specters,” he said.
Dominique looked at him. Just like Zachary he always looked perfect. “No thanks to you. I nearly died.”
“Hmmm. Nearly.” Dorian's expression sobered. “Did Chana give you Newlyn’s sword?”
“Only one person had a sword and it wasn’t Chana.”
Unease flashed in the back of Dorian's eyes. “Some sacrifices must be made for the greater good.”
Dominique wasn’t sure she liked the greater good.
“Tell me, what did Chana give you?”
“Understanding.”
Dorian squatted, his face now at eye level. He was even more beautiful close up. “You think like her,” he said. “Zachary is Demon Lord, born to battle, created so death and destruction would endure in Demon Realm.” He flicked the metal box on Dominique's belt. “He is incapable of love. In the end he will choose to save Demon Realm rather than change your ill-fated destiny.” He stood, both hands on hips as he surveyed the area. “If I were you, Lady Demon, I would head into the trees. The approaching tide brings unwanted visitors more ferocious than shadow specters.”
Before she could utter a reply, Dorian disappeared into the shadows. Already, the river’s waters flowed more closely than before and Dominique had no plans to meet any new friends at that moment. She struggled to her feet, wobbled, waited until the fog in her mind cleared, and staggered in the direction of the forest. She paused at the tree line and glanced behind her at the light drenched river. This could be a trick. Dorian would do anything to see her suffer, previous experience proved that. But, was she willing to put his motive to the test? Creatures worse than shadow specters he’d said. She couldn’t imagine anything scarier than shadow specters.
Pushing on, she exited the cavern and stumbled into cool night air. Guilt weighed heavily on her mind. Could she have saved her husband? Had she done everything humanly possible to save his life or had her negligence killed him? Dominique stopped walking. The forest had disappeared. She now stood beside Jaye’s open grave, and in her hands she held a bunch of dahlias, her husband’s favorite flower. Dahlia’s mean forever, he’d once told her, perfect for you and me.
Across the grave stood her parents in law. Jaye’s mother had persuaded them to date, and she’d applauded when they’d announced a wedding date. Rachel had been so excited at the prospect of grandchildren. Dominique dropped her gaze. She’d thought she was too young for children. Her life with Jaye had taken precedence over starting a family. They were both so young. She had plenty of time. Or so I thought.
The funeral scene dissolved. Darkness surrounded her, along with the feeling of profound remorse. A long sigh escaped and she lowered to her knees on the damp grass. Could she have saved Jaye? Had she performed CPR long enough? She had insisted on a swim that morning even though he hadn’t felt well. She bowed her head. Would she ever forgive herself?
“You can’t move on, Dom.”
Dominique's breath caught in her throat. She didn’t dare look up in case her dead husband really did stand beside her. “I have to move on,” she whispered.
“I thought you loved me.”
“I did love you. I do…”
“Forever. Remember your promise?”
Dominique squeezed her eyes closed to imprison hot tears. As he’d lain dying, she’d pledged to love Jaye forever. She swallowed hard, her throat raw with unresolved anguish.
“You—.” A sob smothered her words. “You left me.” Oh, Jaye. Tears streamed from her eyes, so thick she could barely see. “I loved you more than I ever thought possible,” she told the forest. “But I think it’s time for you to rest, and for me to live.”
She searched the pockets of her belt until she found the thick white candle Zachary gave her. Hands trembling, she placed the summoning candle on the grass. Thoughts of her husband clouded her determination. Her bottom lip quivered. Like a force field, despair bounced every good thought from her mind. Through her tears, she studied the summoning candle, her one link between the living and the dead, between love and a lifetime of loneliness. She dragged her body across the grass and closer to the candle, conjuring enough breath to blow on the short wick. A small green flame came to life, hope amidst the suppressive desolation.
“Okay, Demon Lord,” she whispered. “Come and find me.”
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