The Brightest Embers. Jeaniene Frost
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I stared at him. Yes, I knew every hallowed item could be turned dark. That was why demons had wanted David’s sling. In my hands, it killed demons, but in their hands, it could kill Archons. Likewise, Moses’s staff had sealed up the realm walls when I used it, but if demons had wielded it, it would have sent them crashing down. In context, I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me that if the spearhead were turned dark, its other purpose would be the exact opposite of its hallowed one.
And if that happened, everything I’d done to help people would get undone. It would be hell on earth in no time, and here I was, without any hallowed weapons to fight it because they had disappeared when I’d renounced my destiny.
I was reeling from horror and guilt, but one question roared to the surface. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want that to happen.” After my instant scoff, he said, “Yes, under other circumstances, I would love nothing more than to have the realm gateways reopen. Aside from the obvious, I’m sick of being stuck in a small slice of your rotten world. However, whoever wields the spearhead would have complete control over the gateways, and that, my dear despised Davidian, I cannot abide.”
Now his concern made sense, and of course, his own selfishness was at its core. “That would make the spearhead-wielding demon top dog over you, wouldn’t it?”
He shrugged, but there was nothing casual in his gaze. “I’m not the only demon who doesn’t want a king. We had one once, and it did not suit. We might have minor power struggles, but no demon since Lucifer has ever had the chance to rule all of us. This would change that.”
I couldn’t care less if Demetrius chafed at the thought of being ruled. In fact, his misery would make my day, if it didn’t come at such a high cost. I couldn’t stand the thought of the demon realms reopening, and the demon staring at me knew it.
“So you want me to find the spearhead to stop another demon from finding and using it.”
“Yes,” he said, a nasty gleam appearing in his eyes. “And do try to wield it if you do. Having you implode from its power while simultaneously saving me from being under a king’s rule would be—what does your race call it?—a win-win.”
I almost flipped him off, but I stopped myself because I didn’t want to flash my non-tattooed right hand at him. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that,” I said shortly.
He cocked his head. “Which, go after the spearhead, or attempt to wield it?”
I glared at him. “Guess.”
He shrugged. “Could be either after your soul-tying to Adrian.” At my confused look, he said in an almost kindly tone, “You do realize that’s the reason for your newfound apathy toward the humans trapped in my realms, don’t you? Otherwise, you would have never abandoned those mortal meat bags to certain death just to ensure your own happiness.”
“I didn’t abandon them. I couldn’t have saved them, anyway!” I snapped, fighting a wave of familiar guilt.
“Oh, you are correct,” Demetrius said, coming forward until another inch would have caused him to breach the mirror. “You never stood a chance because you are weak, Davidian, and this only proves it. When you and my son wrapped your souls around the deepest parts of each other in that tethering ritual, his didn’t come away lighter, but yours came away darker, and that darkness only continues to grow.”
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