Damien came to a stop, and Amma saw his eyes narrow, rage there, but intrigue too. There was still blood dripping from his hand, and he brought it up to his face as if he would cast again, but then his eyes flicked up to Amma. When she caught his gaze, she gave him a tight shake of her head. He clenched his jaw, and the crimson sword melted away from his other hand into nothingness.
Damien whistled sharply as he strode up the rest of the staircase, raising an arm overhead, and the smoky raven fluttered into existence to land on his hand. “Your new master,” he said to the arcane bird, turning as he reached Amma and pointing to Tia who had broken through the ranks of the undead to finally reach the bottom of the stairs. The raven called out and took off toward the woman as Damien reached into one of his pockets.
The ballroom had erupted back into chaos under the crimson lights, smelling of rot and blood as the guests continued to scurry and scream. Damien threw what he had retrieved onto the ground at their feet, and the marble of the stairs cracked beneath it, revealing a pit of smoking heat and blackness.
“Again, Xander Sephiran Shadowhart thanks you,” he called to those still assembled, taking Amma from Kaz and pulling her against him once more, not bothering with the dagger. “Son of Birzuma the Blasphemed, Ninth Lord of the Accursed Wastes and Nefarious Harbinger of the Chthonic Tower. Remember the name, for it was your downfall!” He took a step into the pit, pulling Amma along, a small shelf appearing below their feet and rocky stairs revealing themselves into the depth.
“What kind of harbinger?” a voice shouted back from the crowd.
Damien sighed, pausing. “Of the Chthonic Tower.”
Tia had attempted to slash through the raven as it sailed toward her, but it only dispersed around her blade and reformed again to land on her shoulder. Distracted, the woman backed up, trying to bat it away, but then she began to blink and look about as if hearing something none of the rest of them did.
Cedric still fought against the undead at the foot of the stairs, pushing them off with blasts of arcana, and a bevy of Brineberth soldiers had broken through and made their way to him, Gilead, his mage, in the lead. “Foul blood mage Ravenheart, you will pay!” cried Cedric.
Absolutely incredulous, Damien’s grip on Amma actually loosened as he stepped out of the pit. “Look, I know it’s confusing because of the bird, but it’s not Raven, it’s Shadow—”
Amma grabbed his coat and yanked him backward.
“It’s just Xander,” he shouted, perturbed but stepping back again. “Xander, the blood mage from the Accursed Wastes will do. Rememberthatname.” The ballroom had completely devolved into shrieks and clashing metal once again, and he squinted, looking unsure if anyone had heard him.
“Damien?” She nudged him.
“Oh, right.” He grabbed her much more tightly then, dropping his voice. “Ready to go, my little prisoner?”
Amma almost giggled, tingling under his grip, but only cleared her throat, putting on her best wide-eyed, innocent look. “It’s not really up to me, is it, Master Bloodthorne?”
Damien growled in her ear as he walked them down the steps into the earth that had opened up. “Careful talking like that, or I’ll think you really are mine for the taking.”
CHAPTER 35
THROWN IN THE DARK
The darkness was all consuming, the smell of rot gone, replaced with a burning in Amma’s throat, and then a breeze. She took a deep breath but couldn’t seem to completely fill her lungs, heartbeat in her ears, vision dancing as it came back. It was night, wherever they had descended to, and they stood out in the open, but not any place she recognized, flat, warm-toned, empty. Damien still had his arms around her like she might be pulled away from him despite that the sounds of frightened guests and clashing metal and rattling bones had been extinguished.
There was a thunk at the ground beside them, followed by a familiar, watery yelp. Kaz had, apparently, made it through as well, back into his much smaller imp form. Above them, the tear in the sky they’d passed through closed up.
Amma pressed her hands against Damien’s chest. There was dried blood on his coat and her fingers, and she pulled his collar to the side. The lengthy slice he had given himself across his chest was nearly healed.
“That must have hurt,” she said softly, running a finger along where it had been.
Damien gave a small, rueful laugh. “No, not at all.”
She narrowed her eyes, letting a hand slide up to the back of his neck. “Liar.”
“Well, maybe a little,” he admitted, his own hands roving over her body slowly.
Amma tried to catch her breath, but with her front pressed against him it was nearly impossible. “What will happen in Faebarrow now?”
“Tia has been left in control of the undead. If she is as loyal to your family as she says, she will use them to drive the rest of the Brineberth soldiers out and protect the barony. Considering they’re already expired, I can see them lasting quite a long time.”
“You…you actually unleashed the Army of the Undead,” she said, still a little in awe of the idea. “Thousands of them just came up out of the earth.”
“It was quite exhilarating, wasn’t it?”
“But you also attacked Cedric.”
Damien’s satisfied look deepened. “I know.”
