FREE NOVELLA CHAPTER - Demon Heart Chapter Seven
Demonheart by Kiss Carson
© Kiss Carson 2020
CHAPTER SEVEN
Snowdrop flowers struggled to free themselves from the suffocating
snow. He heard his mother’s sweet voice. Snowdrops
for happiness. She smiled, beautiful and carefree. Don’t ever forget your happiness. Zachary hung his head. He had
forgotten.
“The owner must be going for the rustic look.” Domini's satirical words
shattered his thoughts.
With a heavy sigh, he slid from Gagan’s back and ascended the
two stairs that led to the front door. Desolate and dusty, the interior of the
cabin freed more bitter memories. The shadow of his mother hummed a melancholy
tune as she prepared supper. She moved from the cauldron to the square table.
Zachary stared at the child who awaited his meal. Such innocence. His mother
ruffled his hair. The child giggled.
Domini entered the cabin. “Hmmm. Rustic in here, too.” She sat
at the table and looked at him expectantly. What did she want from him? She
tilted her head and regarded him with a steady gaze. “You look sad.”
Zachary turned to the hearth. “Do I?”
He concentrated on building a fire. Once the witness of warmth
and merriment, the stone fireplace now stood black and cold. Just like his
demon heart. Within minutes, a fire danced on the old coals. The orange glow
radiated outward, banished shadows and stifled ghosts of a life long past.
Zachary tugged his coat closer. He would never forget his mother’s expression.
The pain…
He closed his eyes. Why had he returned? He opened his eyes, startled to find
Domini beside him. Flames shimmered in her eyes and gave her fair skin a golden
glow. Here stood the savior of Demon Realm. “I’m hungry,” she said
matter-of-factly. Her angelic aura smashed and trickled to the floor like tiny
splinters of glass.
“Of course you are,” he replied gruffly. His boots thumped on
the wooden floor and specks of dust rose into the air when he crossed the room.
He stopped at a cupboard and opened the door. Eight tins sat on the shelf.
“Why do we have to cross the snow again?” Domini asked.
“My home is in the mountains beyond the forest.” He tossed a
tin of food to Domini. “There, the prophet awaits your arrival.”
Domini read the label and raised her eyebrows dubiously. “This
is the last place I expected to find baked beans.” When she looked at him, a
glint of amusement brightened her eyes. “You know what beans mean."
Zachary shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Domini burst into laughter. “Don’t light a match near me
tonight.” A broad smile lit her entire face
Zachary, however, could not grasp her humor.
*
* * *
Dominique found she slept soundly on the makeshift bed Zachary
had made. After the night at Oasis, she had expected to wake in the comfort of
his arms, but when she’d opened her eyes the Demon Lord was nowhere to be seen.
She dressed quickly behind a thin screen, afraid she would be naked when he
returned to the cabin. Although, hadn’t he already seen her bare body? The cat
suit clung to her just as uncomfortably as the day before, and the boots…She
would give her right eye to wear comfortable running shoes.
Footsteps pounded across the wooden floor. The scrape of a
chair. A scent, not unlike freshly mown grass reached her nose. A heavy sigh
came from the other side of the dressing screen. However, it was not Zachary's sigh. Dominique
paused from pulling on a boot and stared at the screen that blocked her view.
X-ray vision would be a great power to have. She pulled on the boot and stood.
“Hello?” she called through the screen.
No answer.
“Who’s there?”
Still no answer.
The pulse at the base of her throat pumped. Dominique stepped
from behind the screen and then stopped. Dorian straddled a chair.
His slender hands rested casually on his thighs and his ornamental sword lay
across the table. The smile he gave her lit up his handsome face, although it held
no humor.
“I have heard a rumor,” he said, not unkindly, “and I thought I would
come straight to the source for the truth.”
Dominique glanced through the open doorway hoping to see
Zachary. Only snow greeted her gaze.
“Oh, forgive my rudeness. We have not been formally
introduced. I am—.”
“I know who you are,” Dominique said.
“I’m glad my reputation precedes me. That makes me very happy.
Now, back to this rumor. As ridiculous as it sounds, I have heard that Zachary
Sterling, the fool, has wed. What do you think of that rumor, Domini?”
Apprehension sent a shot of adrenaline through her body. She
glanced at the doorway again.
“The Demon Lord is busy foraging for food.” Dorian tilted his
head. Strands of white hair fell across his face and into his eyes. “So, it is
just you and me.” His grin turned devastating, almost beautiful. “What fun can
be had by all.”
Dominique edged around the table, closer to the open door.
“The rumor is true."
Dorian shook his head and tutted quietly. “Hasn’t Zachary
informed you of your one and only function in Demon Realm?”
“What function?”
Dorian’s fair eyebrows rose. “You truly don’t know?”
“I’m here to save Demon Realm from you.”
“Me?” Dorian lifted his sword and studied it as though he’d
never seen it before. “Yes, you are here to save Demon Realm, but the real
enemy may be a little distorted in your eyes.”
Dominique didn’t understand. Wasn’t Dorian the enemy?
“Well, my dear, enough with the niceties.”
In less time than it took to blink, Dominique found herself
trapped in Dorian’s hold, her back pressed into his chest. His arm around her
neck slowly applied pressure until she could barely breathe. She clutched his
arm, her eyes wide as the danger became real.
“I want those Hope Stone fragments in your soul.”
Dominique struggled. She writhed, stomped on his feet, but the
well-muscled restraint wouldn’t budge. Footsteps crunched on the snow outside.
Dominique increased her attempts to free herself. Her chest rose and fell with
labored breaths.
“Ah, here comes Zachary Sterling, Domestic Demon.” Dorian's
hold shifted so he cold press his blade to her throat.
Through disheveled hair, Dominique watched Zachary stop at the
door. In one hand he held a cloth wrapped parcel. He gripped his sword in the
other. He didn’t look surprised to see Dorian.
Zachary indicated to her with
the tip of his sword. “Release her.”
Dorian's low chuckle filled Dominique with dread. “Finders,
keepers, Zachary.”
Zachary's expression remained composed. “She is only the
vessel.”
“Do you really think I would harm her? I know the rules of the
game. Kill her and I will never become demon lord. The fragments need her
alive.”
Despite the sharp blade at her throat, Dominique struggled.
“You will never be demon lord.”
“And you will never be entirely indispensable.” Dorian's arm
tightened. The cold steel of this sword pressed into the skin on her throat.
Zachary stepped closer. His grey eyes darkened as he raised
his sword. “I will battle you for the woman.”
Dominique felt like a pre-historic woman. She expected Zachary
to beat his fists on his chest. Ugh, I
battle for woman. However, Zachary's words worked because Dorian's grip
loosened. Then, he flung her to the ground, and thanks to the slippery vinyl of
her suit, she slid to rest with her back to the wall, unharmed. He stepped
closer to Zachary, sword held tightly in both hands. Very little separated the
two men in physique, or determination.
“Battle well, Demon Lord,” Dorian said, his voice low. “For
that sword, and your title, will soon belong to me.”
Steel met steel in a clash of wills and a display of
superiority. Sparks rained onto Dominique. With high, strong strokes of his
weapon, Zachary forced Dorian to the back of the cabin. Every strike of the
sword increased the glow of his aura. Then, he ran up the wall and pushed from
the surface to flip through the air. He thrust forward. Dorian parried and
slammed the hilt of his sword into Zachary's back. The blow flung him across
the cabin but instead of landing in a sprawled heap, he somersaulted to his feet
and spun to face his nemesis again.
Dorian's face broke into a sudden smile. “You have improved
greatly since we last met."
Zachary flicked his sword in a circle. “As have you.”
“We once battled for sport.”
“I remember.”
Dominique couldn’t believe her ears. Civil conversation while
they tried to kill each other. The two men circled like vultures. Their rivalry
sucked the air from the room. Dominique crawled for the door. Civil or not, she
didn’t want to hang around and watch the fight. A hand on top of her head
halted her escape. She looked up to find Dorian blocked her way. She glanced
over her shoulder at Zachary. Both hands gripped his sword’s hilt.
“Domini, run.”
Run? Dorian still stood in her way. If she did happen to
escape, where did Zachary want her to go? An explosion of intense white light
brightened the cabin. She turned away and raised her arm to shield her eyes.
Another brilliant flash. Dominique blinked to clear spots from her vision. Two
angel demons, one white and one black, hovered near the ceiling of the cabin.
The same two demons that had destroyed her apartment.
“Run,” the white demon ordered, his voice strangely husky.
Dominique scurried through the doorway. The sound of steel on
steel followed as she entered the Spruce trees. Her boots hindered her escape
so she stopped and, leaning a shoulder on one tree trunk, yanked them from her
feet and left them on the snow. At the edge of the forest, she paused to catch
her breath and assess the landscape ahead. Snow. Hills of snow. Valleys of
snow. Where did Zachary want her to go? The cabin was the only shelter for
kilometres. A cold shiver traveled through her body. She shook one foot and
then massaged the circulation back into her toes, then attended to her other
five chilly appendages.
“Dorian!”
Dominique spun in the direction of Zachary's voice. Now human,
Dorian ran through the trees and headed straight for her. Zachary also entered
the forest. He grasped Dorian's long coat tails and yanked him back. Another sword fight ensued. Dominique ran into the open. Within a few meters, she sank
calf deep into the snow. Every step felt as though she plowed through cement
but she forced her legs to move and left a deep trail in her wake. Why did
Dorian want her so badly? What, exactly, did she carry inside her?
The ground under her feet shook. Cracks formed in the snow,
long, shallow crevices that surrounded her. Now trapped by unstable ground, she
stopped pushing forward. The snow formed a cone. Dirt erupted from its centre
like lave from a volcano. The ground rolled. She swung her arms and managed to
keep her balance in the knee-deep snow. The ground continued to shudder and the
ice volcano grew until a hideous snake demon emerged. Brown scales glistened in
the pale sunlight. The snake whipped its tail through the air, the sharp talon
on the end missing Dominique by a hair.
The snake loomed over her. A baseball-sized wad of saliva
exploded from its mouth to land near her feet. A dozen tiny snakes wriggled
from the mound. Dominique lunged far enough to drag herself out of the hole that had
formed around her, and crawled away from the creature. The tiny snakes doubled
in size. Their talons thumped on the snow with the tempo of war.
Dominique pulled the dagger from her belt and held it out
threateningly as she used her feet to push herself backward on her bottom. She
didn’t want to take her eyes off the beasts. Seconds later, the first snake
struck. She screamed and stabbed with dagger. For every ten thrusts she only
killed one snake, but every snake she killed produced a green life gem. Good
for the Demon Lord. Not so good for her exhausted body.
Beyond the snakes, a door shimmered into view. Three storeys
high and almost as wide, the structure dominated the landscape. Whispers filled
Dominique's head, words of encouragement and mutters of the savior of Demon
Realm. A dull ache started in her chest. Somehow, she felt drawn to the door
from inside her body. Sidestepping the snakes, she awkwardly ran across the
snow. The ache in her breast increased. Every step jarred. Her lungs burned.
She kept her eyes on the door, knowing magic entrance would save her.
Dominique tripped and fell to her stomach. The scaly demons
swarmed her. She screamed, threshed, and kicked her legs to disperse the
snakes. The door was close, now. Behind her, Zachary battle Dorian. She climbed
to her feet and staggered until she stood less than a meter from the wooden
door. Breathing deeply, she glanced over her shoulder. The snakes hadn’t
followed. Instead, they all slithered to where Zachary fought Dorian and the
giant snake.
Pictures were etched into the door. A man hovered over a war
scene, an ornamental sword in one hand and a diamond shaped stone in the other.
Lines spread from the stone and entered the fray. Some soldiers knelt in
reverence. Others shielded their faces in fear.
A sharp throb of pain in her
chest forced Dominique to her knees. She cried out and doubled over. More pain.
She arched her back, flinging her face towards the sky. Her heart burned. Her skin stung. Just when she thought she would
pass out from the pain a stone shard pushed from her chest and floated towards
the door. Dominique let out a sob and fell onto her side.
The fragment slotted into a diamond-shaped hole with a click.
Now on her back, she sought the comfort of Zachary's solid form. The fighting
had stopped. Zachary slid his sword into its scabbard and sprinted across the
snow. He waved his arms in the air. His lips moved but Dominique couldn’t hear
his voice. On the door, a hexagonal dial turned. The door shuddered. A pulse of
energy radiated outward. Dominique rolled with the force of the power and
stopped on her stomach. The dial turned another notch. She watched, vision
blurred, as the snakes disappeared. One more turn of the handle. Another pulse
of energy. Dorian stiffened. His bellow of pain penetrated her foggy mind. In
the midst of the destruction, Zachary still ran toward her.
Radiance pushed from the door and brightened, blinding,
suffocating. Gusts of high-pitched frequency washed over her. She covered her
ears until she couldn’t even hear her own frightened cries. A figure blocked
the light for a moment. A body covered hers. The scent of rain. Warm hands
cupped her face.
“Domini, breathe.” Zachary's low curse was the last thing she
heard before the world went black.
* * * *
Zachary had never seen such intense light before. On his
knees, he gathered Domini's lifeless body to him. The harsh glare penetrated
her skin until he saw blood flow through her veins. Every beat of her heart
echoed thrice as loud as usual. Looking up, he shielded his eyes with one hand.
Ripples of white incandescence traveled toward him. Muffled whispers became
clearer until he understood the words.
Demon Lord.
Aemon’s sword.
Take.
Aemon was his father’s name, and his sword had brutally ended
many lives. He lowered his gaze to Domini. Her arms hung limp. Fascinated, he
studied the veins on the inside of her wrists as they pulsated with a life of
their own. Her heart still thumped a strong, even rhythm.
“Hello, Demon Lord.”
A shiver covered Zachary's skin. He knew the voice, soft and
sweet, filled with a mother’s love. He no longer kneeled in the light with
Domini. Tall trees soared into the sky until he could barely see their leaves.
The grass beneath his feet sparkled with tears of dew. Against his better
judgment, he turned to face Chana. She was still beautiful, and her soul kind.
“Mother.” He heard his voice but didn’t realize his mouth had moved.
Chana smiled gently. “My son.” She held her hands forward. A
magnificent broadsword with an intricately weaved gold hilt materialized on her
palms. “Swing true, Zachary.”
Zachary eyed the sword, unsure. “I cannot,” he replied. “My
heart—.”
“I know of your heart. You need Aemon’s sword to protect she
who controls you.”
“Domini does not control me.”
Chana’s face softened. “Have you forgotten happiness?”
“No.”
“The snowdrops reminded you of our peaceful existence so many
years ago."
“Mother, I cannot take the sword.”
“Zachary, your soul is not the same as your father’s. I know
you, only as a mother could.” Chana stepped closer. The rose fragrance she so
often wore swirled slowly around him. She held the sword forward. “Protect
her.”
Reluctantly, Zachary reached for the sword. The moment his fingers
touched steel, an invisible force sucked the air from his lungs. Startled, he
dropped to his knees and dragged in a gasping breath.
“Aemon’s sword,” Chana whispered. “Power up, Demon Lord.”
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