The Relic (Cradle of Darkness #2) - Addison Cain Page 0,50

diminishes. Pearl. I’m right here.”

A man, brown-skinned and beautiful in a way tranquil seas were beautiful. Eyes as hypnotic as waving barley in a soft breeze. Voice… his voice was water to quench an endless thirst. He offered a kind smile, even as he said, “This particular demon knows you in ways you cannot imagine. Look at your hands. Already, you’re pulling Darius free of his prison. He’s luring you into his whims, feeding your hatred.”

What?

Oh God….

My outstretched hands were sticky with rotting ooze, both palms flush to the torn ribbons of throat that needed to be worked free. I had already pulled the snapping head a good three inches higher, fighting the crusting matter that had glued him in place.

I was touching the vilest of creatures, his crispy skin cracking against my touch, his teeth bared as if once I pulled him to my bosom, he’d feast.

While I thought I was making a feast of him.

Desperate, the monstrosity screamed vileness into my mind as I yanked my touch away, and a sickening sound followed the head sinking down the pole until the tip hit the inside of his skull.

Its face was a frenzy of twitching, brains scrambling, healing, scrambling, healing. Just like me, there was a hole. A pike, taking parts away.

And in that, I took pleasure.

Even as I gagged.

The effort it took to break my gaze from the boiling crimson of a half-rotted head was almost unbearable.

As if it might make me clean, I scrubbed my hands on the silk of my skirt, the red growing grisly with the bits of unspeakable things. The stain on the outside matching the stain on the inside as that thing screamed for me to return.

Darius had been so close to freedom, in the arms of a daywalker who could move through space on an accidental whim. Who had fallen into his dream by teasing me with the angelic face of a dirty, suffering boy.

My boy.

Just like my girl, Jade.

“He has my son.”

“He has nothing,” the man said. “He’s a head on a pike. One tormented knowing his heart beats in the chest of a good man.”

Ignoring the ring of suddenly silent vampires—beautiful dead things that toed a line they could not cross—I faced the intruder.

And knew him.

Which was not comforting.

Arms folded under my breasts, further concealing my modesty from roving eyes, I saw the face he refused to offer on display at the wedding. And I found little gratitude considering all the years I called out for help and had been ignored.

“What do you think?” He was ignoring my narrowed eyes and heaving breath. “They fear their fallen king so much they cannot even step forward to snatch up two vulnerable daywalkers.”

“You are not vulnerable.” And he should not pretend as such.

Where brown eyes had dragged over the crowd, many vampires scampered back as though burned. They came back to rest on me. And gave me no pain.

Outstretching a hand, he said, “I’m not afraid of him.”

“I am.” That was not a hand I would take.

“I know. That’s how darkness worms in. Evil feeds on fear yet is slain by love.” The answer was easy, even offered with a kind smile.

“And God is real. And the world should vibrate with forgiveness. And my children were taken from my body. And the only lover I’ve ever accepted used me as a prop to stage a show. And I am alone. And you hide your face.” My lip shook, fresh tears falling as I struggled to say, “And your teachings were false.”

“So much of what I tried to share was twisted, even by those who claimed to follow me. I said one thing, and they claimed another long after I walked away from the tomb. Believe me when I tell you that the truth is devoured. It has to claw its way out of the belly of the beast. It has to fight what it is being replaced with. And, in doing so, is altered.” He looked pained. Endlessly sad. “I had been warned.”

I knew. I had dreamed of those forty days and forty nights in the desert. “So what do we do?”

“I had been warned,” he clarified. “But that didn’t mean I was wrong to disagree. I still do. You have lived miracles. You have seen God work in such amazing ways.”

Hysteric giggling preceded. “I have lived miracles?”

My faith was a joke. Jesus was insane.

Looking side to side as if taking in the artwork of the landscape, the man said, “I have