The Relic (Cradle of Darkness #2) - Addison Cain Page 0,49

as if it were fine wine.

Yet, it didn’t feel real.

Nor did the flashes of children flung into the night to defend themselves against the monsters alone.

He had the power to plant lies like seeds. To water those lies with the victim’s doubt.

And still it was his head on the pike and not mine.

And terrible as those memories were, I laughed.

I had been that beaten child. Those monsters had already devoured me. It was my bones bashed into uneven brick and mortar in an unforgiving world that needed to feed.

It was a parlor trick of using my past, changing the hue, and pretending it was another.

I laughed harder.

Choking back a giggle once my mind flooded with images of a little boy who looked every bit mine—same features, same tenacity. But his blue eyes held none of my fear as he fought. His were the sea in a storm.

Refusal to submit.

And I knew as I saw him that no matter what the monster tried to show me, the little boy was real.

It was almost as if I could feel his little ghostly fingers curl around mine. The perfect greeting of a sweet child to a discombobulated stranger.

It was too real to bear.

“Mommy,” the memory called out, as if we had known one another. There was the lie. Not the voice. No, that voice was very real. It was the word.

Mommy.

He did not know me. Just as Jade did not know me. Just as I had never known my mother.

“You will give me my son!”

“For a kiss.”

No. Though the argument was personal, more had come to bear witness. The undead, hissing threats yet failing to come closer. As if there were an unseen line in the garden no toe might cross.

Lingering, circling, they called out obscenities. Clicked their tongues as if to draw my attention away. Others only cocked their heads as if this were the most entertaining display they had seen in ages.

More laughter.

But the unhinged sound was mine. I was laughing at them.

They were afraid of a head on a stick! The irony being that... so was I. I was petrified of a skull with sorry flesh hanging from its twitching muscles. One that could not touch me in any way that mattered.

One I was extremely tempted to simply… eat.

He was already inside my mind, why not just digest what was left? I could imagine the crunch of bone in a powerful maw. Even though the sound of those screams had been more beautiful than any the sun might inflict on the most terrible demon of hell.

Red eyes I remembered held mine as I said it. “I hate you.”

I don’t think I had ever said that to another being in my life.

But it was freeing! “I do, Darius. Not once did I love you. I might not remember, but I know I fought your desires.”

And I had never fought Vladislov, not in that way. Not even on the planks when I’d let him have his show at my expense. No, I just ran, because I could not bear to look at him when he seemed so giddy.

And I would deal with him later.

What a thought. I would deal with the king of monsters, and I already knew he would kneel to me, perhaps even cry, but never learn.

In a very strange, comforting way, I could even accept that.

But first… Darius.

Lip curled, I stood just as I had seen my haughty daughter stand, snarling, “You’ll be nothing but a display in a garden, scratching at the minds of those who wander too near in the same way mice scratch at the walls. You’re a pathetic infestation, Darius.”

“Kiss me, my treasure.”

Oh, I’d kiss him all right. I’d eat his face right down to the bone!

Tongue already tracing the sharper edges of my teeth, I took a step closer, caught by a voice at my ear. “Pearl, this is no place for you.”

What?

Who on earth would dare come between me and the finest, most pure moment of rage.

True hatred sang in me as if it had always been there, would always be there, and would give me all the comfort I lacked since my first breath.

What was love when hate might empower? What was love but a figment of the imagination?

Hate was far more real. It was palpable.

I could be whole!

A figure stepped into my periphery. “Look at me. One look and you’ll understand why hate will never devour love no matter how hard it tries. Compassion triumphs over cruelty. Self-respect feeds while self-indulgence