Heir to the Shadows

curled up in the center of the pulpy ground while the word sharks circled, waiting for him.
    * Daemon.*
    Hadn't they all been waiting for the end of this torment? Hadn't they all been waiting for the debt to be paid in full? Now she was calling him, calling for his complete surrender.
    *Move your ass, Sadi!*
    He rolled to his hands and knees and stared at the golden-manned, sapphire-eyed woman who stood on a blood-drenched shore that hadn't existed a minute ago. A tiny spiral horn rose from the center of her forehead. Her long gown looked as if it were made from black cobwebs and didn't quite hide her delicate hooves.
    The pleasure of seeing her made him giddy. Her mood made him cautious. He carefully sat back on his heels. * You're annoyed with me.*
    *Let me put it this way,* Jaenelle replied sweetly. *If you go under and I have to pull you out, I'm going to be pissed.*
    Daemon shook his head slowly and tsked. *Such language.*
    With precise enunciation, she spoke a phrase in the Old Tongue.
    His jaw dropped. He choked on a laugh.
    *That, Prince Sadi, is language.*
    You are my instrument.
    Words lie. Blood doesn't.
    Butchering whore.
     
    He swayed, steadied himself, rose carefully to his feet. *Have you come to call in the debt, Lady?*
    He didn't understand the sorrow in her eyes.
    *Fm here because of a debt,* she said, her voice filled with pain. She slowly raised her hands.
    Between the shore and the sinking island, the sea churned, churned, churned. Waves lifted and froze into waist-high walls. Between them, the sea solidified, becoming a bridge made of blood.
    *Come, Daemon.*
    His hands lightly brushed the crests of the red, frozen waves. He stepped onto the bridge.
    The word sharks circled, tore off chunks of the island, tried to slice away the bridge beneath his feet.
    You are my instrument.
    Jaenelle called in a bow, nocked an arrow, and took aim. The arrow sang through the air. The word shark thrashed as it withered and sank.
    Words lie. Blood doesn't.
    Another arrow sang a death song.
    Butchering who —
    The island and the last word shark sank together.
    Jaenelle vanished the bow, turned away from the sea, and walked into the twisted, shattered-crystal landscape.
    Her voice reached him, faint and fading. *Come, Daemon.*
    Daemon rushed across the bridge, hit the shore running, and then swore in frustration as he searched for some sign of where she'd gone.
    He caught her psychic scent before he noticed the glittering trail. It was like a ribbon of star-sprinkled night sky that led him through the twisted landscape to where she perched on a rock far above him.
    She looked down ,at him, smiling with exasperated amusement. *Stubborn, snarly male.*
    *Stubbornness is a much-maligned quality,* he panted as he climbed toward her.
    Her silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the land.
    Then he finally got a good look at her. He sank to his knees. *I owe you a debt, Lady.*
    She shook her head. *The debt is mine, not yours.*
    *I failed you,* he said bitterly, looking at her wasted body.
    *No, Daemon,* Jaenelle replied softly. *I failed you. You asked me to heal the crystal chalice and return to the living world. And I did. But I don't think I ever forgave my body for being the instrument that was used to try to destroy me, and I became its cruelest torturer. For that I'm sorry because you treasured that part of me.*
    *No, I treasured all of you. I love you, Witch. I always will. You're everything I'd dreamed you would be.*
    She smiled at him. *And I—* She shuddered, pressed her hand against her chest. *Come. There's little time left.*
    She fled through the rocks, out of sight before he could move.
    He hurried after her, following the glittering trail, gasping as he felt a crushing weight descend on him.
    *Daemon.* Her voice came back to him, faint and pain-filled. *If the body is going to survive, I can't stay any longer.*
    He fought against the weight. * Jaenelle!*
    *You have to take this in slow stages. Rest there now. Rest, Daemon. I'll mark the trail for you. Please follow it. I'll be waiting for you at the end.*
    *JAENELLE!*
    A wordless whisper. His name spoken like a caress. Then silence.
    Time meant nothing as he lay there, curled in a ball, fighting to hang on to the glittering trail that led upward while everything beneath him pulled at him, trying to drag him back down.
    He held on fiercely to the memory of her voice, to her promise that she would be waiting.
    Later—much later—the pulling eased, the