They almost looked mortal, but if they were once that, they weren’t anymore.
Their skin held the waxy pallor of death, scalps bare of hair, eyes endless black pits, and mouths…they were all wrong. Their mouths were stretched too far across the cheeks as if someone had carved out a wider smile for them. And that mouth appeared sewn shut like the Shadow Priests.
I unsheathed the blade. “What are they?” I whispered, quickly counting six of them.
“Definitely not wayward spirits.”
Slowly, I looked over at him. “No, really?”
One side of his lips curved up. “They’re known as Gyrms,” he answered. “This type? They’re called Hunters.”
This type? There were more of these things? I had never heard of such a creature. “Why would they be here?”
“They must be looking for something.” “Like what?” I asked.
Ash spared me a glance. “That is a very good question.”
My heart thumped erratically against my ribs as the Hunters stood there, staring at us—or at least that was what I thought. I couldn’t be sure with those holes for eyes. My stomach churned as the urge to run seized me.
But I hadn’t run from anything since I was a child, and I wouldn’t start now.
An unearthly moan filled the air once more, and the trees shuddered in response. The Hunters moved in unison, sweeping forward in a vee.
Ash struck before I had a chance to respond, thrusting his sword through the back of one and into the chest of another, striking down two with one blow. The creatures made no sound, their bodies only spasming.
“Gods,” I rasped.
He looked over his shoulder as he pulled the sword free. “Impressed?”
“No,” I lied, jerking back a step when the two recently impaled creatures collapsed into themselves. It was like they’d been drained of all moisture with a snap of a finger. They shriveled in a matter of seconds and then shattered into nothing but a fine dusting of ash that was gone before it hit the ground.
“You should go home.” Ash moved forward, sword at his side. “This doesn’t concern you.”
The remaining creatures continued forward, hands reaching around to their backs. They unsheathed swords with shadowstone blades.
Ash moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, with a skill I doubted most mortals could acquire with years of training. He spun, sweeping his sword in a wide arc, slicing through the neck of one of the creatures.
There was no spray of red, no iron-rich scent clogging the air. There was only the smell of…stale lilacs. The scent reminded me of something. Not that poor seamstress, but—
One of the creatures swung its sword, and Ash twisted, meeting the blow. The blades clanged with a force that must have shaken them both.
Ash laughed as he stared the Hunter down. “Nice. But you should’ve known you’d have to try harder.” He pushed the creature back, but the thing quickly regained its footing and charged at the same moment another lurched forward.
I should actually listen to him this time, but I couldn’t just stand there or leave him to be stabbed in the back. These Hunters had shadowstone blades. If their aim was slightly better than mine had been, they could kill him.
My bare feet glided over the damp grass as I shot forward, shifting the dagger in my hand without much conscious thought. The Hunter took aim, preparing to plunge his sword deep into Ash’s back. Having no idea if iron would work on such a creature, I slammed the hilt of the blade into the back of its skull. The crack of iron meeting bone twisted my stomach as the creature stumbled backward, lowering the sword.
But it did not fall like expected. And I’d hit him hard enough to put the thing to sleep for the night—or the week. Dumbfounded, I watched it turn to face me. Its head cocked to the side, and a low moaning sound reached me, coming from the thing’s throat and sealed mouth.
It stalked toward me.
“Dammit,” I whispered, jumping back as it swung out with the sword.
“Did I not tell you to go home?” Ash bit out. “That this does not concern you?”
“You did.” I ducked under the creature’s arm.
“I have it handled.” Ash cleaved through the midsection of another Hunter. “Obviously.”
“Then I guess I should’ve allowed him to stab you in the back?” I grabbed the creature’s sword arm and twisted, spinning him away from me. “A thank you would’ve been sufficient.”
“I would’ve said thank you.” Ash wheeled around, shoving his sword deep into another creature’s chest. The scent of stale lilacs smacked me in the face. “If there was a reason to do so.”
“You sound ungrateful.”
“Well, you would know what ungrateful sounds like,” Ash shot back. “Wouldn’t you?”
Another Hunter came at me, weapon lowered. I kicked out, catching him in the stomach as I eyed the sword he held.
“On second thought, thank you for doing that,” he said, and I glanced over at him. My breath caught at the inexplicable and somewhat idiotic tug in my stomach and then lower when I saw the heated intensity in his stare.
There was definitely something very, very wrong with me.
“Please continue to fight in just a…well, whatever you call that very flimsy piece of clothing,” he offered. “Is it distracting? Yes. But in the best possible way.”
“Pervert,” I snarled, snapping forward as the creature lifted its sword. Ash spun toward me. “What in the hell are you—?”
I slammed the dagger blade into the Hunter’s wrist. Immediately, the creature’s hand spasmed open, releasing the sword. It fell to the ground, and I quickly dipped down to retrieve it. Straightening, I looked over, holding the sword in one hand and the dagger in the other. I smiled widely at him.
He bit out a short laugh. “Well then, carry on.” He turned to the other creature. “Sever their heads or destroy their hearts. It’s the only way to put them down.”
“Good to know.” I started toward the creature. The gaping wound on the Hunter’s wrist had already begun to close as the creature…smiled. Or at least tried to. The stitched gash of a mouth lifted as if it were about to grin
—
The stitches split, and its mouth tore open. Thick, ropey tendrils spilled out of the gaping hole—
Serpents.
Oh, gods. Horror locked up every muscle in my body and sent my heart pounding. Snakes were the one thing that truly terrified me, nearly to the point of loss of rational thought. I couldn’t help it. And serpents inside a mouth? That was a whole new nightmare.
The serpents wiggled and hissed, stretching out from the Hunter’s mouth as he lurched forward. There was no time to back away to avoid whatever gruesome injury this thing could inflict, or worse yet, be touched by one of the serpents. If that happened, I’d surely die. My heart would fail, right here.
Lifting the sword, I thrust the blade deep into the Hunter’s chest. The creature jerked back, the serpents going limp before he began to shrivel, shrinking and collapsing into himself until nothing remained in that space.
“Are you okay?” Ash demanded, stalking toward me. “Did any of those serpents bite you?”
The sword I held collapsed into ash, startling me. “No. None of them bit me.”
“Are you okay?” he repeated, stopping. I nodded.
“Are you sure about that?” Ash asked, and I dragged my gaze from the ground to look over at him. Something about his features had softened. “You don’t appear all that okay.”
“I—” Something smooth and dry touched my foot. I looked down, spotting the long, narrow body slithering through the grass. “Snake!” I shrieked, my blood turning to ice as I pointed at the ground. “Snake!”
“I can see it.” Ash lifted his sword. “Get away from it. The bite will be toxic.”
I couldn’t get away from it quick enough.
Throwing myself back, my foot came down on a slick patch of exposed rock, and my leg slid right out from under me. I went down fast, too stunned to stop my fall—
A crack of sudden, blinding pain reverberated across the back of my skull, and then there was simply nothing.
 |
I took a small breath and then a deeper one. A tantalizing, fresh, citrusy scent teased me.
Ash.
I blinked open my eyes.
His features were fuzzy at first, but slowly, the striking lines and angles became clearer. His face was above mine, thick strands of hair hanging forward, resting against his cheeks. I focused on the indentation in his chin, seeing now that it was definitely not a natural occurrence. What could leave a scar on a god? My gaze shifted to his mouth, to the very well-formed lips.
He was…
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.
His eyes widened slightly, and then thick lashes swept down halfway. “Thank you.”
A slew of words detailing exactly how beautiful I thought he was formed on the tip of my tongue as the haze cleared from my thoughts…
Had I seriously just told him that he was beautiful? I had.
Gods.
The Mistresses of the Jade had said that men enjoyed flattery, but I didn’t think my artless gushing was what they’d meant. Not that I needed to seduce this god. I would have to pretend that it’d never happened. I looked over his shoulder to the star-blanketed sky. We were still by the lake, and I was lying on the grass. Kind of. My head was elevated, resting on his thigh. Everything but my heart stilled. That started galloping like a wild horse.
“I have to admit, though,” he said, drawing my eyes back to him, “I’m worried you hit your head harder than I believed. That was the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”
“Maybe I did damage something.” It almost felt that way because a part of me still couldn’t believe that he was actually here. “Where’s my blade?”
“Right beside you, to your right and within arm’s reach.”
I turned my head. I could make out the shape of the dark gray blade in the grass. I started to sit up.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, beside the thin strap of the slip, and a soft whirl of energy rippled down my arm. “You should lay still for a few
more moments,” he said. “You weren’t out long, but if you did do some damage, you’re going to be toppling right back over if you move too quickly.”
What he advised made sense. I’d once taken a nasty hit to the head during training and had been knocked out. Healer Dirks had recommended the same thing. That’s why I didn’t move.
It had absolutely nothing to do with how all parts of me focused on the weight of his hand and the coolness of his skin. His fingers were the only bit that touched the bare skin of my shoulder, but it felt like…more. And that was silly. But sometimes I wondered if I were truly worthy of touch.
My brows knitted. “Why are you still here?” “You were injured.”
“So?”
His expression changed then, his gaze sharpening and lips thinning. “You really must not think very highly of me if you think I would just leave you here.”
It wasn’t only because he was a god—well, that did surprise me a little
—but I could count on one hand how many people would’ve remained. I shifted a bit, uncomfortable with that truth.
A moment passed. “How are you feeling? Does your head hurt, or do you feel sick at all?”
“No. There’s just a slight ache, that’s all.” I shifted my gaze from his. “I can’t believe I…I knocked myself out.”
“Well, I don’t think you did it all alone. The serpent played a role in it.” I shuddered, closing my eyes. “I hate snakes.”
“I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked dryly. “Did they do something terrible to you in the past? Other than keeping the pest population at bay?”
My eyes snapped open at the teasing edge to his tone. “They slither.” “That’s all?”
“No. They slither, and they’re fast, even though they have no limbs. You never know they’re there until you almost step on them.” I was on a roll now. “And their eyes… They’re beady and cold. Serpents are not to be trusted.”
One side of his lips lifted. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.” “Good. Then they should stay away.”
That half-grin remained. “Though these types of snakes were far from normal.”
The image of the Hunter resurfaced, and acid bubbled in my stomach. “I…I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Most haven’t.”
I thought about the scent of stale lilacs. “Is that what happened to Andreia? Did she become a…Gyrm?”
“No,” he answered. “I still don’t know what happened to her.”
“But they were once mortal, right?” I had so many questions. “How did they end up like that? Why the serpents? Why were their mouths stitched like the Priests?”
“There are two types of Gyrms. These were mortals who had summoned a god. In exchange for whatever need or desire they had, they offered themselves for eternal servitude. Once they died, that was what they became.”
I swallowed, my stomach churning. Would a mortal still have offered themselves if they knew that the end result would be that? I supposed it all depended on how desperately they sought whatever they needed. “Why the stitched mouths? The eyes?”
“Supposedly, it’s done so they are loyal to only the god or Primal they are in service to.”
“Are the Priests Gyrms, then?” I asked. If they were no longer truly alive, it explained how they survived with their mouths sewn closed. It also explained their innate creepiness.
He nodded.
“The Primals stitch the Priests lips shut?”
The skin around his mouth tightened. “What happens to them when they die was established a very, very long time ago. It has become an expected act.”
Expected or not, it seemed unnaturally cruel to do such a thing.
“And the serpents…” he spoke again, drawing me from my thoughts. “That is what replaced their insides.”
I honestly couldn’t speak for several moments. “I have no idea what to even say to that.”
“There is nothing to be said.” Ash relaxed against the rock as he stared beyond me to the lake.
My eyes widened. “I don’t even know if I want to know this, but do the Priests in the Temples have snakes in them?”
His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “I have to agree with you probably not wanting to know the answer to that.”
“Oh, gods.” I groaned, shuddering. “You said there are two types of Gyrms?”
“Those who offered eternal servitude in return are typically known as Hunters and Seekers. Their purpose is usually to locate and retrieve things. There are other classes of Gyrms, dozens really, but those are the main ones.” Ash’s fingers moved over my collarbone in a slow, idle circle, startling me. “Then there are those who enter servitude as a way to atone for their sins in lieu of being sentenced to the Abyss.”
“So, for them, it is not eternal?” I asked as my focus shifted to his touch. The pad of his thumb was rough, and I imagined it was callused from years of handling a sword, as mine were already becoming. Though, as a god, I wondered how often he had to wield a sword. He could’ve used eather earlier to end whatever had become of Andreia, but he’d opted for a blade.
“No. For them it is for a set amount of time. They are usually known as Sentinels, who are, in a way, soldiers. The Priests fall into that group. They are more…mortal than the first group in the sense that they have their own thoughts.”
“What happens if they turn to ash like the Hunters did?”
“For those who are atoning for their sins, it depends on how long they’ve been in service. They may return to the Primal or god they serve, or choose to go to the Abyss. The Hunters? They return to the Abyss.”
My gaze lifted to his face. He was still staring out at the lake. Was he aware of what he was doing? Touching me so casually?
I couldn’t even think of when I was last touched in such a way. Those I spent time with at The Luxe didn’t touch like this, and they wanted me. Maybe he was unaware of it, but I wasn’t, and if even a single flicker of hope resided inside me regarding fulfillment of my duty, I needed to put some distance between us.
But I didn’t move.
I remained there with my head on his thigh, letting his thumb trace the lazy circle. The touch utterly transfixed me. I enjoyed it.
And why couldn’t I? I was no longer the Maiden. I’d decided already in the last three years that I was allowed to enjoy everything I had been
forbidden.
I cleared my throat. “You…you said the Hunters were most likely looking for something?”
“That is the only reason Hunters would be in the mortal realm.” He was quiet for a moment. “They could be looking for me.”
I thought that over. “Why would they be looking for you?” His gaze touched mine. “I have plenty of enemies.”
My pulse kicked. “What have you done?”
“Why must I have done something?” he countered. “Maybe I’ve drawn the ire of others for refusing their demands or because I involved myself in their business. It’s a bit judgmental to assume that I did something wrong.”
My brows knitted, and I thought of what those gods he’d been following did. “I hate to admit this, but you do have a point.”
“Did it pain you greatly to admit that?”
“Yes,” I admitted. His gaze left mine, but his thumb still moved. How could he not realize what he was doing? He had to know, right? The digit was attached to his body. I opened my mouth—
“You’re about to ask if it has something to do with those gods I was following.” A wry humor filled his tone.
I frowned. “No.”
He glanced down at me again, raising a brow.
I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Okay. I was. Is it because you are trying to find out why they are killing mortals?”
His laugh was soft. “It could be, but it’s not often that I’m in the mortal realm for any length of time, liessa,” he said, and my heart skipped in my chest in response to the nickname. “That alone would provoke the interest of others, and their interest is something I find greatly annoying. But I have refused and not allowed many things. I’m not sure I could pick just one. When the Hunters don’t immediately return to them, they will know that they did, indeed, find me.”
“It would seem rather reckless for the gods to spend their time seeking to provoke one another.”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. I was.
His gaze flicked back to mine. “You do realize that you’re not a god, and you’ve risked doing more than just irritating me.”
My lips pursed as I looked across the lake. “Well,”—I drew out the word—“I have a bad habit of making poor decisions.”
Ash laughed, and it was a deep one—one that taunted the corners of my lips. I ignored it.
“Does it bother you?” Ash asked.
“What?” I inquired, unsure of what he was referencing. His eyes met mine. “Me touching you.”
Well, that answered my unasked question. He knew exactly what his fingers were doing. “I…” I didn’t mind it at all. The touch felt wonderfully grounding, as if I were a part of something or someone. I didn’t realize that I was smiling until I noticed that Ash’s lips had parted, and he was staring at me again in that heavy way that centered in my stomach. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s a…novel feeling.”
“Novel feeling?” The half-grin returned. “A touch like this?” His fingers moved then, not just his thumb. He drew them up over my arm, curling them toward his palm, and a soft wake of shivers followed. “Is different to you?”
“It is.”
His stare changed, a slightly perplexed pinch to his brow forming. It occurred to me that someone casually touching one’s arm probably wasn’t a unique feeling to most.
The burn of embarrassment increased as my gaze flicked to the sky. “I mean, it’s all right. I don’t mind it.”
Ash didn’t respond, but his thumb continued, this time slowly sweeping up and down. The feel of his skin against mine was different, and it had nothing to do with him being a god.
As I lay there, trying to forget the awkwardness, I couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. From what I understood, Primals and gods aged like mortals until they reached eighteen to twenty years, and then their aging slowed to a crawl. Ash looked no older than Ezra or Tavius, the latter having just turned twenty-two. Gods tended to be on the younger side compared to Primals. “How old are you?”
He had returned to staring at the lake. “Older than I look, and probably younger than you think.”
My brows furrowed. “That’s not much of an answer.” “I know.”
“And?”
“Does it matter?” Ash countered. “Whether I’m a century old or a thousand years? I’ve still outlived anyone you know. My lifespan would still be incomprehensible to you or any mortal.”
Well, I guessed he was, in a way, right again. How many years he’d lived didn’t really matter when he would still appear only a few years older than me a hundred or more years from now.
I didn’t know what would’ve happened if I had become the Primal’s Consort. Would my aging have stopped thanks to some sort of Primal magic? I’d never really considered it because it hadn’t mattered when I would’ve died. It only mattered whether or not I succeeded at my duty.
I shifted my thoughts, not wanting to think about any of that. Not right now.
He looked down at me with eyes a swirling shade of quicksilver as his chin lowered. “What if I told you a secret?”
“A secret?”
He nodded. “The kind you could never repeat.” “The kind you’d have to kill me if I did?”
One side of his lips curved up. “The kind I would be very, very disappointed if you repeated.”
The slowly churning wisps of eather in his eyes held my gaze. “Even though common sense tells me it’s best that I don’t know what this secret is, I am far too curious now.”
A low chuckle rumbled from him as his thumb swept over the curve of my shoulder. “What is written in your histories about the gods, Primals, and Iliseeum is not always accurate. Some Primals’ age would shock you.”
“Because they’re so old?”
“Because they’re so young in comparison,” he corrected. “The Primals you know of now didn’t always hold those positions of power.”
“They didn’t?” I whispered.
Ash shook his head. “Some gods have even walked both realms far longer than the Primals.”
If I weren’t already lying down, I would’ve fallen over. What he said sounded unbelievable. And he was right. I had no idea how old the Primal of Death was. He, like Kolis, the Primal of Life, had never been depicted in paintings.
“I have so many questions,” I admitted.
“I can only imagine.” His gaze flickered over my face. “But I’m sure the questions you have cannot be answered now.”
Not now? As in there’d be a later? A rush of anticipation surged through me before I could stop it.
There was never a later to look forward to.
The pleasant warmth his touch had created cooled, and I suddenly needed space. I sat up, and this time, he didn’t stop me. His hand slipped from my arm, leaving a wake of awareness behind. I reached around, gingerly prodding at the back of my head. I didn’t feel any cuts, so that was good, and it wasn’t exactly sore either.
I glanced down at myself and nearly choked on my breath. Where the pale ivory slip had met my damp skin, the already near-translucent material had become even sheerer. I could see the halo of the rosier skin of my breasts, and the cold-water-hardened…
“You sure you’re fine?”
“Yes.” Hoping he couldn’t see the blush I could feel spreading over my cheeks, I glanced at him. He was leaning against the rock that had taken me out, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed loosely at the ankles. Still shirtless. Did he not have a shirt with him?
Ash’s eyes were shadowed as he watched me. “Did killing the creature bother you?”
“It didn’t.” I had no idea how we were even having this discussion.
What made him think that it had bothered me?
“Just in case it did bother you,” he said, “they weren’t mortal.”
“I know that.” I tugged on the edge of my slip—it had ridden up my thigh as I moved. “But just because something isn’t mortal doesn’t make it okay to kill,” I added, realizing how rich that was coming from my mouth.
“As admirable as that proclamation is, you misunderstand.” He cocked an arm back on the boulder, and the roll and stretch of lean muscle was… well, distracting. “Or you’ve forgotten what I said. The Hunters were no longer alive.”
“I remember what you said, but they were something. They walked, and they breathed—”
“They do not breathe,” he interrupted, gaze flashing to mine. His eyes looked like pools of moonlight. “They do not eat or drink. They do not sleep or dream. They are the dead given form to serve whatever need the god has.”
I shuddered a little at that description. “Maybe you simply have little regard for killing,” I said, acknowledging to myself the hypocrisy of what I was saying, considering how many lives I’d ended in the last three years.
“Killing is not something one should have little regard for,” he replied. “It should always affect you, no matter how many times you do it. It should always leave a mark. And if it doesn’t, then I would have grave concerns about that individual.”
I wanted to be relieved to hear that. Someone—mortal, god, or Primal— who could kill with hardly any thought was terrifying.
Which was why Ezra was a little afraid of me.
But I did give it thought…after the fact. Sometimes. “So, you’ve killed a lot?” I asked.
He arched a brow. “That seems like an incredibly personal and somewhat inappropriate assumption and question.”
“Yeah, well, spying on my unmentionables is an incredibly personal and inappropriate act, so my question or assumption can’t be of greater offense.”
That softer curve returned to his lips. “I was not spying on you, and I’m willing to bet that you know that by now. However, you were staring at me. Quite openly, I might add, as I walked out of the lake.”
The skin of my throat flamed. “I was not.”
“You lie so prettily,” he murmured, and gods help me, it was a lie.
I sat back, crossing my arms. “Why are you even here? You could’ve left once you realized I was okay.”
“I could’ve left, but like I said before, it would be incredibly rude to leave someone unconscious on the ground,” he returned.
“Well, aren’t I lucky that you’re a polite pervert?”
Ash laughed, low and smoky. “Why haven’t you left, liessa?”
