Immortals After Dark 07 - Kiss of a Demon King

fiddling with
    his poison ring. Sabine would give anything for the antidote to his morsus. Each poison was individual, and since Omort's was prepared by the Hag in the Basement, she was the only one who could cure Sabine.
    But the Hag had entered into a covenant never to surrender the antidote to another. ...
    "Cadeon the Kingmaker continues after the sword," Omort said.
    In as soothing a tone as she could manage, Sabine said, "Yes, brother, but it could take him years to find the Vessel."
    "Cadeon already has her!"
    Sabine's lips parted. "Are you saying the Vessel is on her way to Groot?" With a male like him, that female would bear another ultimate evil. The world couldn't withstand another like Omort. "Send fire demons to assassinate her," Sabine said coolly.
    "You think I haven't?" Omort yelled, spittle coating his bottom lip.
    He disgusted her. Earlier, when Rydstrom had realized she was going to leave him, he'd inhaled deeply, visibly in pain. And then he'd gained control of himself. Who was more powerful, the quiet demon king she kept in chains or the mad sorcerer who could destroy the world but couldn't keep a single castle in order?
    Omort snatched up a goblet, dashing it against the wall. "Those demons continue to fail us."
    "We'll think of something," Sabine said. "I'll go after her myself if I need to. And I never fail you."
    "You are failing me right now! You've been in the demon's cell again and again!" He slammed his fist on the throne arm. "We've been waiting days for some kind of progress-why can't you get him to do this?"
    "Was there a time limit to my task?"
    Hettiah said, "We've heard word that you go and do nothing but talk."
    Once! "Your pet's making sniveling noises again, Omort. Shut-her-up!"
    "I think you're not committed to this cause!" Omort snapped. "Perhaps I should withhold the morsus to spur you on."

    Sabine's eyes narrowed. The chamber appeared to rock. "You keep threatening me with that, and you will not like the outcome."
    "You dare-"
    Four fire demons traced in front of the dais, just to her side. The court fell silent in shock.
    The demons were beaten, bloody, and handless. Pinned to the shirt collar of one was a folded note stamped with an N in a black wax seal.
    Nix. The Valkyrie had sent them back with their hands lopped off-rendering them powerless.
    Omort stormed down the steps to them and ripped the parchment free, tearing it open. As he read, a vein bulged in his forehead. "That bitch! She'll know my wrath and will learn to fear it!"
    he yelled, crumpling the letter and throwing it away. "I go for her myself!" In an instant, Omort raised his hands and smote the four to ash.
    Stepping around the charred remains, Sabine scooped up the note, smoothing the paper to read:
    Dear puss,
    Is this all you've got? Why don't you strap on your big girl panties and come face me yourself? Unless you fear that the Nixanatar will spank Omort's wittle bottom.
    By the way, you've taken one of the most respected leaders in our army. We're going to want him back. Especially since Sabine cant break him.
    Bringing it,
    Nix the Ever-Knowing, Soothsayer Without Equal,
    General of the New Army of Vertas.
    Sabine whistled out a surprised breath. The Valkyrie truly was crazed.
    Then she frowned. Can't break him? Again, was there a time limit? Style points?
    And what was this Army of Vertas? Sabine had heard rumors that Nix was placing factions together- the Lykae, the Forbearers, the noble fey, the House of Witches, a mix of Demonarchies, and many more. Had they all struck an alliance?
    Perhaps they were using this letter to lure Omort into a trap. Sabine knew the other side had mystickal prisons, entire islands that were inescapable. Could they capture the deathless one?
    Sabine stared at the script, her thoughts racing.
    "Bring me the rage demon!" Omort commanded. 'I'll send Rydstrom's arms back to the Valkyrie!"
    "No!" Sabine cried, her heart in her throat. Omort would butcher him. Rydstrom would regenerate the limbs, but the pain .. . "You will not-"
    The sudden hit took her across the face, blood spraying out from her mouth over the marble.
    Hettiah had attacked her? That cold, pure fury Sabine knew so well swept through her. Then came the bile, the nausea, that could only be allayed with violence. Self-preservation, survival.
    A red haze covered her vision; Sabine spat more blood as Hettiah's friends surrounded her.
    15

    Rhydstrom was disgusted with himself. One blow job and he'd been ready to