Dreven sweeps us out of the chamber before Tabitha can make another cryptic comment, or Dastian can blow something else up for the sheer joy of it. The shift is instantaneous, a tear through the shadows that deposits us in Nyssa’s cramped living room. It smells like safety, which is a dangerous illusion, but one I’ll let her have for an hour.
Nyssa sags the moment her feet hit the floor, the adrenaline finally cashing its cheque. She looks wrecked, vibrating with too much power and not enough sanity. She kicks her shoes off and glares at Tabitha. “You can go.”
“Go where?”
“Somewhere where you can keep an eye and ear out for ex-slayers regrouping,” I point out.
“Fine,” she says and vanishes.
The relief I feel is also shown on Dastian’s face. Dreven looks just as grim as ever.
“Wraith Queen,” I mutter, watching Nyssa collapse onto the sofa. I can’t take my eyes off her. How she ended up with this position isn’t exactly a shock, but it is unprecedented. We assumed her goddesshood would outweigh a monarchical status. Clearly, we have no idea what we are talking about.
“Kettle,” she groans, face planted in a cushion. “And toast. Or I kill everyone.”
“Violent,” Dastian muses, flopping onto the armchair and looking entirely too pleased with the destruction we left behind. “Are you trying to make me hard?”
“You’re always hard,” she grumbles.
Dreven is already moving to the kitchen, practical as ever, though his shadows are twitching, agitated by the revelation that his long-dead father, turned Devourer, has somehow passed his power to the woman he is screwing. Fun, and a bit gross. But still fun.
For us, anyway.
I walk over to the sofa and stare down at the woman who is currently rewriting my existence. She ignores me, so I crouch next to her, taking her hand. “I knew I felt a deep connection with you. I know why now.”
She cracks an eye open. “I don’t want to be Queen of Wraiths,” she murmurs. “I don’t even know how.”
“You don’t know how to be the Goddess of Light and Shadow either, but you’re doing a bang-up job of that.”
She scoffs. “Now who’s lying?”
I chuckle. “You’ve got this, slayer, just like you’ve got everything else.”
“I don’t know what a Wraith Queen is meant to do. How is it any different to you?”
“I am God of the Wraiths. It’s different. More metaphysical. More godly spirits and the such like. You are on the ground in the mortal realm.”
“But the undead answer to you here.”
“Because they have no one else. Or rather, they didn’t. Until now.”
She seems to accept my explanation, although it was given in very basic terms. She will learn, eventually.
“Rest,” I tell her, smoothing a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. Her skin is burning hot, the sheer wattage of the stolen power struggling to find equilibrium. It calls to my cold, a stark contrast that makes my fingers ache to touch her more.
Dreven re-emerges from the kitchen, the domesticity of the mug in his hand at odds with the rippling shadows trying to eat the ceiling. He sets the tea and a plate of toast on the coffee table with precise, controlled movements.
“Eat,” he commands, though his tone is softer than usual.
Nyssa drags herself upright, eyeing the toast like it’s the holy grail.
“So, are we going to discuss the elephant in the room? Or rather, the giant metal snake in the room?” Dastian asks.
“The snake is asleep,” Nyssa says, swallowing hard. “For now.”
“Perhaps try and keep it that way for a while, soyoucan rest as well.”
She nods, finishing off the toast and gulping back the tea. “Shower.” She stands up but doesn’t get two paces when Tabitha bursts back into the cottage uninvited.
