She spun on her heel, an awkward grin on her face. “Oh, right! Of course, I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same…I just…” She scurried across the hall, catching Damien’s eye before disappearing behind her door. “Well, goodnight!”
There was no malice behind Erick’s gaze when the two were left alone in the hall, but there was a question in his eyes, one that Damien was not willing to discuss. Instead, he offered his most gracious nod and shut himself up in the room. He stood against the door for a moment, listening as Erick’s footsteps left, waited a moment longer, and went off to the bathing chamber where, indeed, he could manage for himself, thank you very much, Lord Solonedy.
Damien scrubbed harder than he meant when bathing, knowing Amma was doing the same, and he tried not to think of her, naked, wet, touching herself. It was impossible though, and eventually he sat back, mind wandering, and was only snapped out of it when Quaz, who’d maintained his cat form, jumped up onto the edge of the tub and slipped right into the water with him. “You know you actually have wings, for darkness’s sake,” he growled, lifting the soaked feline form as far away from his cock as possible. Even if it wasn’t getting used, he didn’t want claws anywhere near it.
But in the imp’s cat mouth was a pulsing glow, and when Damien held out his hand, the shard of occlusion crystal was dropped into it.
“Well, you’ve not done that before,” he said to the stone housing his father. Apparently, being deep in the mountains amongst the goblin dens had given it a little power back, but even when it was full strength, it hadn’t ever blinked.
Depositing Quaz on a linen, he sat forward in the tub and tapped the shard to see if it would stop. There was a flutter of light and then his father’s voice but no eye blinking back. Zagadoth was grumbling something and then cleared his throat. “Never done this before, but hopefully…hey, kiddo, I just wanted to check in.”
The occlusion shard nearly slipped out of Damien’s wet fingers and into the water as he stuttered back an awkward, nervous greeting to his father, but Zagadoth didn’t acknowledge the response.
“Last we talked, you were in the Sanguine Tower in the Accursed Wastes, and I just didn’t feel right about that, son.”
“I’m not there anymore, I—”
“I haven’t heard from you since, so I thought I’d try to leave you this message, just in case.”
Damien flipped the stone over, then clicked his tongue. So, Zagadoth had found a way to essentially send him a raven.
“I’ve been thinking a lot, son, and, well…Damien, I just want you to know I’m proud of you, no matter what, and I really don’t want you doing anything too risky for me.”
At that Damien scoffed and nearly dropped the shard into the water, ready to abandon it.
“Basically, kiddo, if it’s not looking good, I want you to head home, all right? I’ve been stuck in this thing for decades, but getting out isn’t worth your life. Don’t make bad deals or put yourself in the kinda trouble you can’t get out of for me. I know I pushed you but I…well, I hope you hear this, son.”
The pulsing glow to the shard softened and went out. Damien squeezed it, a quiet anger welling up in him thoughhe didn’t know why. How his father dared profess such sentimentality, such kindness, such…sincerity. Zagadoth always sounded sincere, and even then Damien felt his father meant every word.
He dragged himself out of the bath and stuffed the shard back in his pouch where it belonged. If the demon refused him answers, Damien knew that if he asked the right questions, he could glean the truth from Zagadoth’s eye. If he survived the pit the next day, that probably meant it was time to speak with him.
After drying himself and Quaz off, Damien found light, linen pants in the drawer of a wardrobe and collapsed onto the bed. Quaz hopped up beside him, spun in a circle, and flopped down hard, immediately asleep. In the quiet of the nearly empty manor, Damien stared up at the ceiling and tried emptying his mind. He watched the shadows above him, let them come to life with the slightest bit of noxscura, and tried to put himself to sleep with the subtle movements.
It didn’t work.
Amma would marry Erick, he could already see it manifesting more clearly than the fucking shadows above. Lord Solonedy was charming and handsome and, Abyss, if he asked, Damien would even have had a difficult time saying no because the man was soft—soft like Amma. He was a human who was kind and thoughtful and practically made for her.
Murdering him was an option, though, the thought creeping in coldly then sparking an unscrupulous kindling in his brain. Killing Erick would be easy, the man probably wouldn’t even put up much of a fight. He wouldn’t be messy about it, just send in some shadows to smother his pretty face. But then what would he say to Amma?
Must have had an enemy.
Quaz did it.
I was afraid you might marry him once you’ve come to yoursenses about me.
“Oh, don’t be so bloody pathetic,” he groused to himself, dropping a hand on his chest where the other half of the Dreadcouncil’s Fragmentable Pendant of Accursed Bondage and Nefarious Conquest had disappeared. The next day they would find the pit,somethingwould happen, and he and Amma were spending what was potentially the last night they could ever be together, apart.
Utter foolishness.
“Vanders?” Damien called hesitantly. “Vanders, can you hear me?”
There was a fuzzy tickle on his chest as the vaxin appeared. Where the thing went when gone, and how it knew when to appear, he couldn’t comprehend, but it was convenient.
“Is Amma asleep?”
The vaxin tipped his head to one side, snout working hard.
Damien had no idea if that meant yes or no. Less convenient. He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern something greater. “Is she still in her chamber?”
