The Sweetest Burn (Broken Destiny #2)

I held him tighter, glad for what had to be soothing lies despite his promises that he’d only tell me the truth. We both knew how this would end, but at the moment, I needed reassurance more than I needed honesty. Maybe Adrian did, too. He sounded like he really believed what he was saying, even though we both knew that he was most likely wrong.

Still, right now, we had each other. Life was only lived in the present, and so I’d put everything I had into whatever present we had left. From the tightening of his arms around me, I knew that Adrian would, too. Besides, it could take months or years to find the spearhead. I could grow stronger by that time, perhaps even strong enough to withstand the final weapon’s devastating effects. Maybe, just maybe, I would beat those million-to-one odds. After all, destinies were sometimes made to be broken.





EPILOGUE

ADRIAN STOOD IN front of a large mirror. He touched its smooth, unbroken surface, thinking that it had been years since he’d seen his reflection this well. Other reflective surfaces, like water or windows at night, never revealed things in such clear detail. In those, he wouldn’t be able to see the hard set to his jaw or the flintlike look in his eyes as he spoke the name of the demon he’d never hated as much as he did now.

“Demetrius.”

His reflection blurred and the mirror rippled as if it had become water. Then, in the center, a dark form appeared, growing larger until a very familiar man filled the frame. When Adrian saw the bright lights of a modern cityscape behind Demetrius, he let out a harsh laugh.

“You managed to avoid getting trapped in the realms along with the rest of them. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know me, my son,” Demetrius said, a small, sly smile curving his mouth. “And if you didn’t think I had a contingency plan in the event that the little Davidian succeeded, then you don’t know me as well as you should.”

“Let me guess. Cursed earth?” Adrian asked, with an ironic glance at the ground Demetrius stood on.

The demon’s dark eyes gleamed. “Remember, I’m the person who taught you all your best tricks.” Then he looked beyond Adrian. “You summon me from a church so that I cannot leave this mirror to come to you. Do you still fear me, even now that you know the truth of who I am?”

“No, I don’t fear you,” Adrian replied. That was the truth, even as he fought to make his tone light. He’d never let the demon in front of him see how tortured he was by doing this. Demetrius would only use it to his advantage, and Adrian had almost nothing left as it was. “But I sure as hell don’t trust you.”

Demetrius’s shoulder lifted in a concurring shrug. “I suppose I do tend to misbehave.”

Adrian stifled his snort. Demetrius would characterize untold millennia of horrible deeds that way. “I didn’t come to banter or to catch up on what you’ve been doing. Real father or no, I still hate you, and I’d kill you if I could.”

Instead of being angered, Demetrius grinned. “If not for your regrettable honesty, I’d be proud of you, my fierce, vengeful son. However, let me impart a word of fatherly advice. Next time, don’t warn someone that you want to kill them. Tell them all is forgiven, then rip their heart out as soon as they turn their back.”

Adrian gave him a pointed look. “My honesty comes from my mother, and I’m keeping it because it’s all I have left of her.”

Demetrius let out a sigh. “You say that as if I enjoyed killing her. I didn’t, even though she deserved it by hiding her pregnancy and your birth from me. When I finally found out about you, I tried to reason with her, but she summoned Archons to fight against me. What choice did I have?”

The one where you didn’t kill her, Adrian thought, but he didn’t bother saying it. Demetrius’s mind simply didn’t work that way. Adrian would have a better chance explaining poetry to a cockroach, and he didn’t have long until Ivy expected him back.

Ivy. Adrian steeled himself for what he had to do next. It felt vile, as if he’d dunked his soul inside a vat of filth, but if he didn’t do this, she would die. He didn’t care that he’d probably die with her, despite overhearing Zach’s assurances that his Judian and demon natures would be strong enough to withstand her loss. What Zach hadn’t said, and yet the cunning Archon undoubtedly knew, was that without Ivy, he wouldn’t want to go on. But most of all, after everything that Ivy had been through, he couldn’t let her sacrifice herself this way. She deserved a chance at happiness, and he hadn’t been able to give her much, but he’d damn well make sure that he could give her that.

“I’m soul-tied to Ivy now,” Adrian stated, although he suspected that Demetrius knew that.

His father winced as if the words had injured him. “Yes, I can sense the stink of her soul around yours from here.”

“That means whatever happens to her happens to me, too,” Adrian went on. Demetrius should know that, but he was taking no chances by guessing. “You might be a twisted, evil bastard, but I’m probably the closest you’ve ever come to truly loving someone. When Ivy was dying after wielding the staff, I almost died, too. Ivy recovered because she siphoned enough of my strength through our tie to survive.”

“And you only had that strength because you are my son,” Demetrius said, emphasizing those last two words, as if the truth wasn’t enough on its own.

Adrian met his father’s gaze without flinching. “Yes, and you want me to live. I won’t, not with every demon and minion still topside gunning for Ivy. I know you aren’t the only one who got out before the gateways closed, but remember this—if Ivy dies, then I die, too, whether by the power of the spear or by my own hand. I won’t live without her. I refuse to.”

“Ivy.” For a moment, hatred blazed in Demetrius’s gaze as he said her name. Then, it vanished and he shrugged as if he didn’t care. “The other thing you get from your mother? Deplorable taste in lovers.”

Adrian didn’t crack a smile at Demetrius’s backhanded insult to himself, although that was the closest he’d ever heard his father come to being self-deprecating.

“I can misdirect the other demons on this side from hunting Ivy down. As for the minions, I’m sure you can handle them on your own,” Demetrius said. At Adrian’s doubtful look, the demon waved a hand. “I’m not lying. Unlike the prior two weapons, I don’t care if the little Davidian uses this one. Let her save some of the wretched meat bags trapped in the realms. She can’t hurt my people with it, and they will eventually find a way to punch a hole though the walls and return on their own.”

“But if Ivy uses the spearhead, it will kill her,” Adrian said, hating himself but loving her enough to do this. “I’ve tried to convince her not to go after it, but I can’t change her mind or stop her. As her abilities have grown, so has her need to save people. It’s almost a compulsion now.”

“Of course it is, it’s her destiny,” Demetrius said dismissively. Then he cocked his head, understanding dawning on his pale features. “But you don’t want her to find the spearhead, let alone use it.” A statement, not a question.