The Demon King (23 page)

The servant nodded a nod that was almost a
bow and quietly left, shutting the door behind him. The room Roman
had chosen for this impromptu meeting was in a law office in a
three-story building in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He’d chosen it at
random, but the Table he’d fashioned using magic, as tables big
enough to seat all of the kings and queens were normally not
created.

Roman turned back to his companions. The lot
of them sat quietly, watching him with knowing gazes. Two of the
four who could have been the traitor were at the Table, and they
looked uncomfortable. No doubt it had crossed their minds that
things had hit a head and they could be entering a trap. They were
either very brave, or they knew deep down that being one of the
Thirteen meant that the others were there to help you, not harm
you. Or maybe it was both.

No one had mentioned that
Lalura’s chair was empty. They all knew it was pointless.
They all know what happened
.

“
I’m sure you’re all by now
aware of the situation,” he said, voicing his thoughts. What he
didn’t voice was the fact that two of the men who were missing were
men who hadn’t yet found their queens, and were therefore suspects.
Chantelle had been killed by the traitor. None of the women
involved in the incident had been able to see who he was; he’d been
invisible and inaudible to them in the tumult. All three women
claimed Lalura had been speaking with him, and had referred to him
as the traitor, but that it had been as though she were speaking
with a ghost.

He’d clearly taken precautions, protecting
himself from their detection. But he hadn’t bothered with Lalura,
since he’d been there to kill him. Or maybe he’d tried, and had
failed. His final failure against the witch. His next attempt at
anything against her would succeed, and now the world was one witch
short.

“
It was the traitor, wasn’t
it?” someone asked. Roman realized he’d been staring off into
space, his gaze stuck to the empty seat across the Table from him.
Why had he even put the chair there if he’d known it wouldn’t be
filled? What had he been thinking?

“
You’re just used to seeing
her there,” came a soft voice from beside him. He felt her hand on
his elbow, and from that point of contact, a cool, calm salve moved
through his body and into his soul. He looked down at his beautiful
bride, a silent thank you passing between them.

“
Of course it was the
traitor,” came a man’s calm but seethingly powerful voice. This
time Roman recognized it as belonging to Caliban, the Unseelie
King.

“
She died protecting the
people we love,” said Roman. He looked at Violet Kellen, the Shadow
Queen. She hadn’t moved where she sat beside her husband. Her gaze
was locked on the tabletop, but he knew she wasn’t really seeing
it. She was elsewhere, locked in grief and loss. She and her sister
Dahlia had been the closest to Lalura of the kings and queens. Only
The Healer, Dannai Caige, had been closer to Lalura.

“
This will kill Dahlia,”
Violet whispered suddenly.

Roman swallowed hard.

“
When Vader defeated
Obi-wan, he just made him stronger with the Force,” came a softer,
dreamier voice. It belonged to Minerva, the Unseelie Queen. Her
ash-blonde hair, enormous eyes, and fair skin made her look like a
porcelain doll where she sat at the Table, her hands folded in her
lap. Roman had perhaps never witnessed a more deceiving appearance
on a person. The woman was a Wisher, a ticking time bomb with
enough nuclear power to destroy worlds.

“
Exactly,” agreed Damon
Chroi, the Goblin King. The man smiled, leaning forward on the
Table. “He’s made a tactical error. The old witch will probably
just haunt the crap out of him now.”

A few people at the Table laughed. It was
one of those badly needed laughs, one that barely managed to
disguise the pain underneath it. Lalura Chantelle had been friend
to many, including most of the kings and queens at that table.

“
That isn’t why we’re here
though, is it?” another man coolly asked. This was the Nightmare
King, Hesperos. These days, the man spent more time in the mortal
world than he did his own, and in that world he went by Mr. Drake
Hesperos, president and CEO of Dream Industries, a video game
company that spat out games for new virtual reality devices as if
they were created through magic. Which they were.

The Shadow King, Keeran Pitch, was well
versed in the art of the video game franchise, being somewhat of a
celebrity with millions of followers and customers across the
globe. Therefore, Hesperos and Pitch worked closely creating these
new VR games, and they had been doing so for the last six months.
At this point, both men were filthy, stinking rich.

Roman met the Nightmare King’s gaze and held
it. “Drake” was dressed in a tailored three-piece suit that favored
his fit build. His tie matched the green of his eyes.

Hesperos was another of the
kings who had not yet met his “queen.” Frankly, the idea of
Hesperos having a queen was fundamentally ridiculous to Roman. It
was to
everyone
,
because Hesperos was a Nightmare, otherwise known as an incubus.
These men didn’t settle down. They basically made a living off of
doing the opposite.

Roman pulled his gaze from
the Nightmare King and looked down at his hands where he had his
fingertips splayed across the polished wood of the Table. He was
having difficulties with the idea of his queen nearly being killed
by the traitor. Hence, he was feeling a little emotionally unstable
at that particular juncture in time. In this instability, his
instincts were telling him that his initial desire to destroy the
remaining five kings had been dead-on. They were telling him he
still had time to do so. They were telling him that every wasted
second he
didn’t
do so was another second the traitor went on
breathing.

Since these instincts
weren’t exactly those of a psychologically sound leader, he shoved
them into a dark corner of his mind and calmly said, “No, it is
not.” He looked back up. “I’ve called you here to inform you that
this will be the last time we meet at our table.”
At least until this is all over.

The people in the room fell starkly silent.
And then a quiet murmur went up, and that quiet murmur rapidly rose
into a dull roar of protest. He understood why they were up in arms
about his announcement. Not a single one of them actually cared
about having meetings. Neither did he, frankly. He’d always felt
meetings were an unfortunate waste of everyone’s time and energy.
However, amongst the Thirteen, meeting together in a single neutral
location and sharing thoughts and ideas had become a symbol of all
they’d worked so hard to form – a union of realms. A group of
bright minds and strong wills, a companionship and brotherhood that
meant when one of them was in trouble, help would come from the
other twelve.

It was important. It was stability. And now
he was shaking up that stability, throwing it in a blender, and
shredding it into oblivion.

But he had no choice, and he knew they were
aware of that too. In their hearts, they had to agree. Even the
traitor had to know it would be better for the kings and queens if
they no longer met and shared important information with one
another while he sat amongst them. They’d already waited too long
to make this decision. And now they’d paid a very dear price.

“
Please,” he said softly,
and yet that soft voice was enough to cut through the disquiet.
“Once we adjourn, refrain from communication with one another
unless absolutely necessary.” He’d meant to continue to advise
specifics, but someone interrupted him.

“
Roman,” came a woman’s
voice. His gaze roamed until it fell upon Poppy Nix, the young
human woman who had recently become the Winter Queen. He caught her
gaze and held it, waiting for her to continue. “I know Lalura’s
death is a blow.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “But… do
we really want to allow it to divide us? Isn’t there a saying about
dividing and conquering?” she asked.

Roman felt the silence that
engulfed the room then. He looked at Poppy, noticing things. Her
eyes, normally beautiful, were red. There was a darkness under
them. Her pallor was a touch too pale, and he knew it had more to
do with grief than with the wintery kingdom in which she now lived.
Roman understood this well. He and Lalura had gone
way
back.

Banning communication had been his knee-jerk
reaction to the witch’s death. He had lost someone dear to him, and
he was terrified of losing another. Was it affecting his ability to
make decisions for the Thirteen? Was he wrong? For the first time
in centuries, Roman D’Angelo found himself – uncertain.

“
No,” said Evelynne
suddenly. Roman glanced down at his bride. She rose gracefully from
her chair, hands splayed on the tabletop.
Like the queen she is
, thought
Roman.

In a calm, cool voice that
addressed the others at the Table, she said, “Roman is right. This
is simply a precaution, and frankly it didn’t come soon enough. The
traitor somehow learned of Lalura’s location, and that should have
been impossible. We’re being too free with our information, and it
has cost us a life. It might have cost us
four
lives. As painful as it might
be to admit it, we were fortunate this time. Who will be
next?”

She directed her gaze at Diana and Damon
Chroi. In a manner that surely cut the couple to the bone, she
said, “He’s using our loved ones against us. Lalura gave her life
to protect people she cared about. Who will have to do that next?”
She didn’t have to state that it could be Damon and Diana’s
triplets or any of the animals they cared for. Everyone at the
Table understood what she meant.

“
Then we need a way to
communicate when it
is
necessary,” said Thanatos, the Phantom King. “Shit happens.
We need to be able to warn one another. It’s the reason we started
meeting in the first place.”

“
Why don’t we just agree to
leave us bachelors out of it,” said the Shifter King, Darius.
Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. “I haven’t got a problem with
you just not including us. You obviously need to keep anyone who
isn’t hooked-up out of the loop. Right?” He smiled a stunningly
white smile and gave Hesperos a look that said they were in this
together.

Hesperos chuckled.

Others at the Table began
to smile or laugh as well; it was too hard not to. Darius had one
of those grins that was utterly disarming. Which was why his bed
was rarely empty. The Shifter King was possibly more of a playboy,
in fact, than the Nightmare King. Roman almost shook his head at
the thought when he realized the only men left at the Table to find
mates were the ones least likely to settle down. He almost felt
sorry for whatever queens fate chose to tame them. They would have
to be the most
patient
women in history.

“
I’m okay with that,” said
Hesperos with an heir of genuine nonchalance. Of
course
he wouldn’t mind
not being in touch – he was brand new to the Table anyway. He was
still in “loner” mode.

“
Then assuming the Dragon
King and the Time King agree, it’s settled,” said Evie, who had
clearly taken over, “the Thirteen Realms will meet only when
necessary.” She glanced at the empty Akyri King’s chair. “Such as
when we introduce new queens to the Table. Otherwise, we will
convene without you party animals,” she said looking at the
bachelors one at a time.

They smiled at her
unabashedly. Roman shook his head, grinning
. That’s my girl
, he thought.
Controlling the chessboard
. When Evie turned and looked up at him, she returned that
smile.

“
What about the Demon
King?” asked someone at the Table. The room fell into silence
again.
The Demon King
, thought Roman. He hadn’t heard Lazarus referred to in such
a manner in some time. But it was true that sometimes the Akyri
were called demons.

“
He’s off the suspect
bachelor list,” said Evie, still smiling. But there was a secret to
it now, and laughter in her eyes. “And believe me, he has his hands
too full to be plotting anyone’s demise.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Something urgent was niggling at the edges
of her consciousness, a kind of busy knowledge that she was
forgetting something important. There was an image in her mind that
was blurry, out of focus. She couldn’t make it out no matter how
hard she tried.

Wake up.

She floated, peaceful and comfortable, in
the weightlessness of sleep, and there was a large part of her that
wasn’t in a hurry to disrupt that feeling. But a small, more
insistent part was telling her to wake the hell up.

Wake up.

Something had happened, hadn’t it? What was
it? Flashes of images moved in that blurriness, fragments of sound
like audio clips taken from a hundred different movies. There was
static and she felt the heat of purple fire and she was staring
into eyes the color of a tropical sea.

Wake up.

Those eyes…
His eyes
, she thought,
finally able to form something coherent in her brain. His eyes.
They were
his
eyes! More flashes, more sounds, and the shine of a badge on
a belt. Gunshots, the crackling of purple lightning in a shield. A…
dog?