The villagers turned to stare at me, and I wanted to sink beneath the soil into the boiling water that ran below the surface.
A message for Ikelos, huh?
This can't be good.
I approached the demon lying belly-down on the gravel. His hands were bound to the rope that anchored him to the steed's saddle, and his long nails were sharp, chipped, and discolored with disease. He'd lost all his hair, and his pale scalp was the tint of milk, his skin webbed in inky veins and flaking off in unsightly patches.
His labored breaths shook his entire body, and I pitied the soul he'd taken hostage. Losing your willpower to another entity was traumatic enough, but to be condemned to a state of rot and malnourishment at the same time? That was pure torture.
I crouched beside the Pan to inspect his face, and he turned his head to peek at me.
"Ik...el...os," he whispered through blackened gums and rotting teeth. His voice, no more than an airy hiss, sounded like the hot mineral water pouring out of the showers—like he was nothing but a steam engine, a husk stripped of a distinct human tone or accent.
"You have a message for me?" I prompted, refusing to expose the empathy churning in my heart. The demon species had used it against me one too many times. I had to appear hardened, not merciful. Especially before an audience.
Eager to hear the rest of the conversation, and perhaps a little worried I'd cause a scene, Will limped over to stand behind me. His right hand fell to the hilt of his sword, his thumb rubbing the pummel like a rabbit's foot, while his left hand held tight to the crutch under his arm—not because it carried his entire body weight, but because he planned to use it as a second weapon, if need be.
The demon rolled himself onto his side to face us, pulling his confined hands down to his naval. His body had deteriorated to bones and tissue, and he looked starved—of nutritious food or vital human memories and experiences, I couldn't be sure.
"Your time is dwindling...Alex Kingsley," he breathed, and I instantly knew the words didn't belong to him, but to his imperious master across the Gorge. "My army...it's nearly ready. And your precious brother...he leads the war effort." His white eyes flicked to my pulsing jaw muscle, and a grin split his peeling lips. "He's become my finest general...all thanks to you..."
Don't let the splinters get to you, Al, I thought, blinking away the rage. Don't reward him for his efforts.
"Regulas," I greeted calmly, seeing the Rheans exchange startled looks in my periphery. The king had sent this demon here to channel his own personalized memorandum—like a messenger pigeon from hell. And something told me the deranged man wasn't seeking a truce. "What do you want?"
"I have come to tell you...that time is running out for your people," his pale eyes drifted past me to the refugees gathered around the pavilion, "your people, and all the traitors in this mountain."
Laughlin and Reese, both standing close enough to hear the threat, grew still—their eyes wide with alarm, their shoulders taut with consternation.
Apparently, they didn't believe me when I'd warned them of the king's omniscience, and now we faced the grim reminder that no place was sacrosanct under his rule, not even Havard's secret mountain bunker. In fact, I suspected Regulas already knew of the Order's hiding place, and for the time being, he'd simply written them off as a non-threat.
Of course, that could all change if Eagan proved to be the last living mage.
The demon prisoner tilted his head to address Laughlin. "Lay down your arms...and I will not harm your village. As Rhean blood...you'll be left to live as you so desire..."
Liar.
"Please." I wasn't sure if Regulas could hear me through this demon telegram, but it didn't stop me from speaking my mind. "You can't achieve your blank slate while Freemont exists, and it kills you to know that your own people despise you. They've chosen your brother over you, and your pride can't take it." My eyes narrowed on the half-dead creature. "You'll do to them exactly what you did to Will. Probably worse. So you can stop with the bootlicking; you're fooling no one with empty promises of reconciliation."
The demon chuckled, and I hadn't heard a sound so unsettling since Demon-Will's haunting cackle at the Rim. "Mighty Ikelos...so brave...so fierce." His pale eyes danced with loathing. "So easy to break."
The insult left a nick in my confidence, and my stern expression turned leery. He'd definitely heard me that time, which meant that somehow, someway, Regulas was speaking straight out of this demon's mouth. And the intimacy of our contemporaneous discussion unnerved me.
"Who should I kill first?" he taunted. "Your dear commander? Your blond companion?" His gaze traveled to the raven-haired figure standing guard behind me. "...Or perhaps our beloved Asa?"
I was about to nominate himself—and suggest a few graphic ways to go about it—but Will was done listening to the man's provocations. "Is that all you came here to do, Regulas? Barter with the very people you betrayed? Throw insults? That's a bit unbecoming for a king, isn't it?"
The demon dropped his head back to the gravel, lacking the energy to address his brother's criticisms. "Heed my warning, Freemont...those who fight against the crown...will suffer the same fate as my enemies. I will not...show mercy...to treasonous clans." He glanced back at the prince. "Or kin."
"You never showed us mercy," Laughlin spat, his black eyes pulsing with poison, his lips curled into a hateful grimace. "Kingsley's right. No place in the world is safe as long as you're alive." He regarded the king's withering puppet like a decaying beast. "You better start counting your days, Sterling. I assure you, they're numbered."
The demon slowly blinked at the clan leader, then Reese. "...If that is your answer...then prepare to die on Sunrest with the rest of your clan."
The declaration purged the valley of sound and nervous whispers, and alarm poured into my gut.
Did...did he just say Sunrest?
Based on our calendar year, that put our deadline in April, meaning we had a little over two months to assemble the federal army, merge forces with Rhea, and fine-tune an effective battle strategy.
It wasn't enough time to prepare for another invasion. And Regulas knew that.
"I'll throw you one last bone, Ikelos," the demon said, and I could just imagine the king's devious grin in that moment, the thrill of dangling something I wanted—and desperately needed—in front of my eyes. "Hand yourself over to me...and I'll push the invasion to the end of summer. Surrender...and we'll give your people a fighting chance."
Will stopped breathing behind me, and I felt like I'd just been slugged in the solar plexus. "Hand myself over?" I whispered. "To you?"
What for?
Did he plan to kill me on sight? Was this an attempt to remove me from his opponent's infantry? Force me to sit and watch my friends perish? Or were his motives more malevolent than that?
"Return to the palace—alone—and I will grant Ells more time," he proposed, his vacant gaze fixed on my deepening scowl. "...Or fight and die before the onset of the new season...your choice."
I let the offer simmer for a moment, running it over in my mind, letting it marinate in the folds of my brain, before tossing it aside with the rest of his nonsensical propositions.
I yawned and threw an annoyed look over my shoulder. "Will, are you as tired of this negotiation as I am?"
"I was over it five minutes ago."
"Yeah, I thought so." I glared down at our unwelcome visitor covered in muck and blood and pine needles. "I'll see you in April, Your Majesty."
And with that, I unzipped the flap of my glove and reached down to knock the Pan unconscious.
But the instant my palm collided with the demon's forehead, there was only the smallest, dullest flash of light, and then nothing. No plane of colliding memories. No ethereal realm. Nothing but a snapshot of the present moment.
Realization hit a moment later, and dread filled my lungs.
This reservoir was empty. The demon had no soul left to consume; he'd used up all the human memories within him, and now he'd resorted to catabolysis.
He was dying.
I yanked my hand back and shot to my feet, stumbling backward into Will's open, steady palm.
Regulas wasn't bluffing, then. This was the fate for Tom and all the other poor souls who'd lost their battle with evil incarnate. A long, miserable plunge into putrefaction.
The demon peered at me with undisclosed knowledge, observing the terror on my face, the grief in my eyes. Then a slow, sinister smile compressed his features.
"April it is, Ikelos," he whispered. "Do bring...your best...performance..."
A few seconds later, acidic oil filled his moon-colored pupils, and his pilfered body went limp.
As Jeremy and Laughlin disposed of the demon corpse, I raced for the cabin where they'd taken Torian, haunted by the image of bloody clothes and pale skin.
To my dismay, Reese refused to let anyone else in the room until the village doctor finished stitching up her patient, though she seemed to have made an exception for Mason. That, or the blond just shoved his way into the space and refused to leave.
When visitors were finally permitted, Valerie, Will, and I rushed into the room with our hearts in our throats. But the scene we stumbled upon quickly extinguished our apprehension.
Mason sat at Tori's bedside, mopping up the blood from his torso with a rag. The medic was conscious, and despite the mean and gruesome wound across his lower ribcage, color had returned to his cheeks, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
He looked happy to be in Mason's company, and I almost regretted setting foot in the room. Something about the atmosphere felt...charged.
"Tori?" I whispered, and the medic's gaze snapped to mine like my presence caught him by surprise, like he'd been living in a sound-proof bubble. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, murmuring his thanks to the doctor as she and Reese vacated the room. "The wound's deep, but it didn't damage any major organs. The doc said I'd be back on my feet in a week, although...between us, I think I'll be fine in a day or two. Should be able to ride a horse again in no time."
Mason rolled his eyes, and I buried my grin. "That's great news."
The injured Rhean cast me a curious glance. "Did the demon deliver his message?"
I hesitated, unsure if I should burden him with the troubling information, but Valerie beat me to it. "Yeah. The royal man-child tried to convince the clans to back out of our deal. Offered them amnesty if they stayed put."
Tori scowled. "It's like all he breathes are lies."
"Lies and petty insults," Will muttered.
"Then, when Laughlin declined, Regulas told Alex to turn herself in, and he would delay the invasion until after Sunrest." Val folded her arms over her chest and glared at me. "Which is just another manipulation tactic, by the way. I hope you realize that."
My friends surveyed me with timid uncertainty, and I suddenly felt bad for all the times I'd made them question my sanity.
"You're not going to do what he says, are you?" Tori asked.
"She better not. She's not that much of a self-sacrificial moron," Mason said, but I still heard the splash of doubt on his tongue.
I let out a breath and shook my head. "Regulas knows I'm humanity's failsafe. Even if I turn myself in and buy the federates a few more months, there's a good chance they'll lose without me."
"There's a one hundred percent chance of that, love," Valerie corrected. "We can't win without you."
"Yeah, well, regardless of how valuable I am, I also don't think Regulas will hold up his end of the deal. He may be king, but he lacks integrity. And the way he's going about conscription tells me he's never known honor." The younger me would have run straight for his trap, desperate to prove myself and save my comrades. But I'd grown a lot in the past six months, and I wouldn't let foolish martyrdom cloud reason. Not anymore. "We can't trust him, however enticing his deal may be."
The group expelled a collective sigh of relief, and Will didn't even try repressing his thrilled grin. "I'm glad we're on the same page...because there's another layer to his message."
I raised my brow. Go on.
"There's a reason Regulas tried to dissuade Freemont from joining. And there's a reason he tried to pull you out of the game." His gaze turned waggish. "As much as my brother boasts of his war readiness and a sealed victory, he recognizes us for the threat we are. He knows he can lose, and he's panicking."
I found myself mirroring his smile.
Will was right. Regulas didn't send a demon all this way simply to instill fear in our hearts. The king was doing everything he could to ensure his victory, from dissolving alliances to preying on his enemy's champion. Which meant there were chinks in his armor—weaknesses worth exploiting. We just had to locate them.
"I wish I could send that prick a message of my own," Mason grumbled. "I'd tell him to shove his ego up his puckered colon, for one."
Will laughed, drawing astonished gazes and gaping, twitching lips. I was pretty sure that was the first time he'd reacted that way to something Mason said, and the blond looked pleasantly surprised by his achievement.
Valerie released a dreamy sigh. "Patrons, what I would give to see that."
"When we find Regulas cowering in his throne room, you'll get your chance," I assured her.
Will quirked an eyebrow. "That's assuming he'll still be conscious after I'm done with him."
Or breathing, was left unsaid.
As terrifying as it was to approach the end of this war—and the mountain of lost souls it would entail—I couldn't wait to watch Regulas grapple with failure. I couldn't wait for him to realize his despotism had brought our rival countries together, united in hatred.
And of course, if Will wanted to slap his brother around for a while, I wouldn't deny him that gratification.
My gaze found Torian's, then his arch of stitches, and I winced. "Hey...I'm sorry you got caught up in the conflict this afternoon. One of us should have tagged along just in case you encountered a demon."
Tori waved my worries away. "Nah. I'm glad it was me and not one of you guys. Humanity can't afford to lose any war heroes right now."
Mason dropped his bloody towel back into his bucket with an aggressiveness that drew wary looks.
Torian frowned. "...What?"
"You save lives every day," Mason said. "I saw you stick your entire fist in someone's stomach once. You're brave, and you never buckle under pressure." He glanced at the medic with furious affection. "Don't sell yourself short just because you're not a frontline soldier. You're not disposable."
Tori watched the blond detangle the bandage wrap from his satchel, confused by the angry compliments he'd just received. "I didn't know you cared so much."
Will's amused gaze brushed mine, and I knew we'd both thought of our private conversation at Tom's base—back when I'd accused him of caring about the group, about me, and he'd flicked me in the forehead.
Mason's eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn't place. "Yeah, well, I do care. My best friend died because I figured he was too smart to get himself killed and too small and sensitive to pick a fight. But I didn't take his courage into account." His voice cracked a little. "I swore I'd never make that mistake again."
The confession killed the smile on my face, and I felt a stabbing pain behind my eyes. "Mason..."
"Just because you're not a warrior doesn't mean you're immune to peril," he pressed. "If anything, being a healer makes you irreplaceable."
Part of me wanted to voice my agreement and recount all the amazing things Tori had done for Ellsians and Rheans alike. He was an incredible asset to our team, and in a few short weeks, he'd become a close friend. But Mason had built this stage himself, and I refused to steal his spotlight.
"Your patients need you, Tori," the blond concluded. "But so do we."
Torian stared at the young soldier for a moment, taken aback by Mason's speech, perplexed by his praise. Then he swallowed, and I could hear the knot of emotions sinking back into his throat.
"Well...I guess you'll just have to keep an eye on me, then," he whispered.
Gray irises flicked to mine—briefly, like the flourish of an overpriced rapier—before settling back on the medic. Then Mason leaned forward and used his shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat and grime from Tori's brow.
"Trust me...you've got my full attention."
The two boys stared at each other like they couldn't afford to glance away, like no one else in the world existed in this moment, and as Valerie moved for the door, I reached for Will's hand and gently steered him out of the room.
The Ellsian had followed through on our deal in the most Mason of ways, and because of his bravery, Tori was no longer adrift at sea, searching for the harbor. After years unmoored, tending to pirates and the victims of Godric's war, Tori had finally found his lighthouse.
And at long last, the wayfaring doctor was right where he belonged.
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