A Soul to Revive (Duskwalker Brides, #5)

Bright pink bled into the edges of his vision, slowly creeping forward like the shift, too, was shy in this realisation. However, the moment it fully encompassed his sight, the emotion it belonged to blossomed like a bud that had just been waiting for him to allow it to fully flower.

It had been there for a while, patiently waiting.

Before he knew it, the love he shared for Aleron was doubled, and half was given to someone else. Not a drop of difference in measurement, but the adoration he felt was... different. The two sides were not at war with each other; there was no competition.

I love Emerie...

Holding the end of his beak, Ingram clawed at his chest when it felt too full, too fluffy and light. His affection for Emerie was so strong he feared the molten ore of it would burn him from the inside, and yet it was so wholesome he hoped it did.

Orpheus and Magnar both flinched when he turned suddenly.

He made it about two steps towards the decline that would lead him back to the Veil, to Emerie, when Orpheus snatched his horn.

“Where are you going?” Orpheus shouted in disbelief, yanking and turning him back around.

Or rather, just his head, as his legs fought to get away.

“I must go back,” Ingram rushed out. “If I had known all this, I would have asked for Emerie’s soul sooner.”

He would have done it the day of the fucking meadow!

The sensation in his chest... the first warm droplet of it started that day. Had he not been so unaware and ignorant, had his mind not been obsessed with Aleron, he would have realised he wanted her to be eternally his.

His little butterfly, in his mind, had been claimed by him that day. He’d just been trying to claim her in every other way possible since then, unwittingly seeking to fill the void of longing.

“You will have to wait,” Orpheus snapped out. “We must hunt. Bring your human food, take care of her needs, then ask.”

Ingram let out a whining groan. I don’t want to wait!

He’d already waited too long.





Having at least half a dozen non-glowing red eyes upon her was... creepy. Especially when every single one of them had homed in on Emerie specifically, as if they could smell she was the true human within their troupe.

With Reia, Delora, and Lindiwe covering her from all three sides, and just her front free, her gaze flittered across those she could see. The Demons had created a circle around them to stop them from escaping, but their curious yet nasty gazes were predatory.

Every member of her group wore weapons, and they had come here of their own volition. The Demons were wondering why. Or perhaps they were waiting for their King to show up before they attacked. Whether it was by their scents or sounds, something about their group brought the small horde of Demons to them.

“Throw a shield up or something to stop them from coming,” Emerie suggested frantically, darting her gaze between the three doorways they were slowly piling in from. Two on either side of the throne room, and the main double doors behind them.

“I can’t. We must wait for the Demon King,” Lindiwe quietly bit back. “He won’t be able to teleport in or out once I place it down. Not even a Phantom can escape it.”

Won’t be able to teleport in or out... Emerie swallowed thickly.

It was a trap, not only for him, but for them. There would be nowhere to run or hide.

One by one, more Demons came and joined the others to stare at them.

The air was thick and stale with tension, combined with a foulness that only permeated from Demons. Like tree rot and the sweetness that came from a decaying corpse. It wasn’t too bad, as if the smell had diluted over time with their growth – since she could tell most of these were medium and larger Demons – but it was still enough to singe her nostrils.

There were a few candles lit on a mostly darkened chandelier above. Spiders had made their cobweb homes on its inverted golden arches, but it did look as though someone attempted to half-heartedly maintain it.

The floor was clean except for right in the corners where the wall met the flagstones. A red carpet, worn down and faded in a wide strip down the middle, ran from the heavy timber double doors all the way up the podium steps and underneath the throne. The chair itself was made of varnished timber and adorned with red cushions. It was the only real furniture in the room, and the only thing well maintained.

The clear glass arching window behind it was... eerie. Although it was the middle of the day, black and purple swirling magic stopped any light from shining through. It made everything dim and ominous.

They’d only been here for a few minutes, and already Emerie wanted to run for the hills. The passage of time was drawn out, like the sand in an hourglass had slowed to a trickle in this agonising wait.

It allowed her to take in the whisper of her companions’ breaths, each one of them shallow and filled with anxiety. Her heartbeat was a pounding drum in her ears, so loud she worried its secretive pulsing was heard by all. Even her hair trailing down her shoulder was scratchy and distinct.

Most of the Demons had turned into grinning statues made of mixed flesh. Patchy sections that, instead of skin, looked like the night sky, threatening to twinkle with stars throughout the human brown, fawny, and white skin. They almost appeared to have vitiligo, which was separated by the human-like parts of them and the obviously inhuman animal parts.

Most had tails of some form, yet only a few had snouts and muzzles. Some had horns and fur. All had claws.

Emerie avoided looking at the two with wings, but her curious gaze had checked to make sure they weren’t the ones who had tried to steal her. To make sure they weren’t the ones who had ruined her life and killed Gideon.

They weren’t.

There were a few on all fours who strutted between their brethren, never taking their fierce red eyes off them. They snickered and whooped like wild dogs or hissed like feral cats. They wanted to lunge, they wanted to attack, they wanted to... eat.

One almost poked itself in the eye when it licked across its muzzle while giving a disgusting slurp.

She took in a deep breath when she swore there was an echo of one or two stomachs gurgling.

Wrong. All of this was wrong.

She should not be here. No human should be here.

Emerie had gone to the Veil, the most dangerous place in Austrális, and decided to go... fuck it! Why not toss herself into the very middle of the cesspool of death?!

Fright had completely dried her tears. Yes, she thought of Ingram – it was the only thing stopping her from screaming and bolting. Her determination to know he would be safe, and that she could, somehow, be a step towards him and his kindred reuniting, was the only thing keeping her feet firmly placed where they were.

She was choosing to believe in his dream, even if it made no sense. Even if it was pointless.

It was what he wanted.

With an arrow nocked but not foolishly pointing at an enemy, Delora’s quiet voice trembled through the silence. “W-why are they just standing there?”

“Because they are not mindless Demons,” Lindiwe answered, her head lowering so she could glare. “These are his guards. They will wait for his command.”