Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

upstanding that he lost his crown to cunning evil. Or, we have the story of Sabine, an innocent young girl who was forever getting murdered." Who would one day be that demon's bride. . . .
    "Th-the girl, please," one resident whispered. His face was indistinguishable through the curtain of his matted hair.
    "An excellent choice, Hirsute Mortal." In a dramatic voice, she began, "Our tale features the intrepid heroine, Sabine, the Queen of Illusions-"

    "Where's Illusions?" a young woman paused in gnawing her own forearm to ask.
    Excellent-these were going to be narrative interrupters. "It's not a place. A 'queen' is someone who is better at a particular mystickal skill than anyone else."
    Sabine could cast chimeras that were indistinguishable from reality, manipulating anything that could be seen, heard, or imagined. She could reach inside a being's mind and deliver scenes from their wildest dreams-or worst nightmares. No one was her equal.
    "Now the ridiculously beautiful and clever Sabine had just turned twelve, and she adored her soon-to-grow light-skirted sister, Melanthe, aged nine. Sabine had loved little Lanthe with her whole heart since the first time the girl had cried for her Ai-bee' over their own mother. The two sisters were born of the Sorceri, a dwindling and forgotten race. Not very exciting story fodder, you might think. Compared to a vampire or
    even a Valkyrie," she sniffed. "Ah, but listen on and see . . ."
    She raised her hand to weave an illusion, drawing from within herself and from her surroundings-the mad energy of the inmates, the lightning-strewn night beyond the asylum.
    When she blew against her opened palm, a scene was projected onto the wall beside her.
    Gasps sounded, a few stray whimpers.
    "The first time young Sabine died was on an eve much like this, in a decrepit structure that trembled from thunder. Only instead of a rat-infested asylum, it was an abbey, built into the peak of a mountain, high in the Alps. The dead of winter was upon the land."
    The next scene she cast showed Sabine and Lanthe hastening down a murky stairway in their nightgowns and coats. Even as they rushed, they hunched their heads at each new batting of wings outside. Lanthe silently cried.
    "Sabine was filled with anger at herself for not listening to her instinct and taking Melanthe away from their parents, from the danger they attracted with their forbidden sorcery. But Sabine had been reluctant because the two girls-though born of immortals and both gifted with powers-were still children, which meant they could be killed and wounded as easily as mortals, their injuries as lasting. Yet now Sabine had no choice but to leave. She sensed her parents were already dead, and suspected the killers were loose somewhere in the shadowy abbey. The Vrekeners had come for them-"
    "What's a Vrekener?"
    Sabine inhaled deeply as she gazed at the ceiling. Mustn't murder audience, mustn't murder . .
    . "Winged avengers of old, demonic angels," she finally answered. "A dwindling race as well.
    But since memory, in our little corner of the Lore, they had slaughtered evil Sorceri wherever they could find them, and had been hunting Sabine's family for all of her life. For no other reason than because her parents were indeed quite evil."
    With a flick of her hand, Sabine changed the scene, showing the two girls stumbling into their parents' room. By bolts of lightning flashing through soaring stained glass windows, they saw the bodies of their parents, curled together in sleep.
    The headless bodies, freshly decapitated.
    In the image, Sabine turned away and vomited. With a strangled scream, Lanthe collapsed.
    Another illusion showed Vrekeners emerging from the shadows of the chamber, led by one who wielded a scythe with a blade forged not of metal but of black fire.

    Flashes of their huge ghostly wings appeared, and the double rows of horns on their heads gleamed. They were so towering that she had to crane her neck up to meet eyes across the room.
    All but for one. He was a mere boy, younger even than Sabine. His gaze was transfixed on little Lanthe, curled unconscious on the floor-one of the adults had to hold him back from her.
    Sabine and Lanthe's situation grew clearer to her. This band of Vrekeners hadn't stalked them only for punitive reasons.
    "The leader tried to convince Sabine to come peaceably with them," she told her audience.
    "That he would
    put the sisters upon the path of goodness. But Sabine knew what the