“You are so sure that Eddie suffers from delusions, are you?” Sofie rests her palm on the pillar next to her.
The blood rushes in my ears as I gape at the soaring creature etched in stone—a human form, and yet not. It’s just as my father described it, right down to the serpent-like eyes and long, twisty black horns protruding from its forehead, each coiling three times before tapering off into pointed ends.
But no … this is all part of whatever sick game Sofie’s playing. She knew about my father. There was nothing to stop her from learning about his hallucinations. He’s not discreet about them. I’m sure anyone who has ever walked along Broadway has heard about the demon with the black horns. “He’s ill. He doesn’t know what he saw—”
“He is not ill. His mind is simply fractured.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
She sighs. “No. The human world does not differentiate.”
There she is again, saying humans as if there’s an option for something else. “What are you trying to convince me of? That this monster is real and my father can see it?”
“This is no monster.” She gazes up at the horned carving. “This is Malachi, one of four fates who have created all that we have and all that we are. You would call them gods. And I am not trying to convince you of anything, Romeria, because I know it to be a lost cause. The walls you have built around yourself to survive in this world are far too thick. That you don’t even realize what you are is fascinating to me. I shouldn’t be surprised, though, given you’ve been immersed in their world. How could you know any different?” She sneers.
“Humans are such small-minded creatures. Like little worker ants, breeding and building their little cities and their little lives. They think everything revolves around them, that it should exist only if they can dominate. They kill in the name of their god, believing it the only true god and all others false or evil.” She scoffs. “I could tell you that humans are in fact the lowliest of creation and that far greater beings walk among them. I could tell you that this world they have created is a facade for what truly exists. I could make flames dance from my fingers and a majestic oak sprout from a seed before your eyes, and still, you would doubt.” Something dark flashes in her eyes. “But you will soon see for yourself, and you will have no choice but to believe.”
She is insane.
Sofie sounds like my mother. Though, those cultists don’t see themselves as weak little ants, toiling away. They think they’ll be the world’s salvation. Meanwhile, Sofie seems to think she’s something other than human.
Beware of the demon with the flaming hair. She hunts for you.
I’ve always denied space for my father’s maniacal rants, never allowing them room to fester in my mind. But now I find myself saying them out loud. “Are you a demon?” My voice sounds strained, foreign.
Her lips twitch. “Some have called me that. And others would set fire to me and revel in my screams. As you well know.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the memory that stirs. Is Sofie claiming to be a witch? “Why are you doing this to me?” It’s like she’s dragging out every painful piece of my past and laying them on a table to poke and prod with the tip of her blade.
“You are not asking the right questions.” She shakes her head. “I do not have time to convince you of the truth I speak, Romeria, but know that the rules of the world to which you are accustomed are about to change.” The flames in the torches flicker and grow, reaching toward the ceiling. “The blood moon is nearly upon us. I have but a small window to take you where you need to go, and I will not miss this chance. I have waited too long.” She edges closer, like a leopard stalking its prey. “Please help bring Elijah back to me. I will be forever in your debt.”
Sofie said she can’t come with me to this Islor. That’s good news, at least. The sooner I’m away from her, the sooner I can clear my mind of these delusions she’s trying to force-feed me—and the sooner I can run.
She holds up an object that I didn’t see her procure. “We will need this.”
“What is it?”
“A gift from Malachi.”
It’s long and twisted and smooth, like black obsidian. One end is jagged, as if a broken piece of something larger.
I think it’s part of an animal’s horn.
I edge away, scanning the room for another exit. My heart stops as I take in the intricate carving on another pillar, a creature with the subtle curves of a female human but with a majestic crown of antlers, its form painted in gold and shimmering under the firelight.
“That’s … how …” I stammer.
Find the gilded doe.
My father shouted that at me. He started saying something else about her but didn’t get to finish because Tony attacked him.
My thoughts spin in so many directions, I can’t find purchase on any single one.
“Listen to me carefully, Romeria.” Sofie closes the distance, the object in her grip. “You are about to enter a world unlike that which you know. It is imperative that no one in Islor learns of your true identity. They cannot know about Malachi’s quest. You must use your skills to blend in, just as you have done up until now.” She squeezes my hand, holding it up between us. “And you must not remove this ring for any reason. It is the only protection I can give, but between it and your wits, I believe you can survive. But if they figure out what you are, I promise, they will not let you live.”
She’s said that twice. “What am I?”
She hesitates. “It does not matter. All that matters is that you retrieve the stone. Tell me you understand?” she pleads, a touch frantic.
My head bobs numbly, her words anchoring in my mind but not resonating. As soon as Sofie is out of my sight, I will run. I have done it before. It’s the only way to get away from this madness before it consumes me like it has my parents. “When do we leave?”
“Now.” A gentle smile touches her lips. “And in order to take you there, first, this mortal form must die.”
I’ve barely processed her words when she drives the twisted black horn deep into my heart.
Chapter Five
Sofie laid Romeria’s body next to Elijah, pausing a moment to regard her most precious of possessions, the ring Elijah once slipped on her finger to profess his undying love. Centuries had passed, but the luster of the gold had not dulled in her eyes, for she knew its true value. She felt naked without it, but she would have it back soon enough.
The bloom of blood around where Malachi’s horn pierced Romeria’s chest remained insignificant. That was a relief. The fate promised this token would keep her mortal form alive long enough for Sofie to complete her task, but while Sofie trusted that Malachi’s orders were sound, she was distrustful of the results. The fate never gave without taking. Elijah was proof of that. That he would force Sofie to rely on the success of one so ignorant to the world beyond her own demonstrated once again how cruel he could be.
Sofie may not be able to read minds, but she could read pulses. They all carried a signature—the rush of lust, the race of fear, the plummet of heartbreak—and she knew Romeria hadn’t believed a single word. She wouldn’t allow herself to. She thought Sofie mad with grief.