Chasing Demons (Book 2) Rated R

Chapter 24

The urge to heal the injured created a physical ache in my stomach.

It was difficult to see all the suffering around me, knowing that I had to power to stop it, and do nothing about it.

Not that I'd had much choice in the matter.

"You won't survive this a third time," Grandfather Nandru reminded me again as he led me away from the make-shift infirmary to the throne room.

Here, the dead bodies had been cleared away and it was quiet. I suspected this is why he'd brought me here. Out in the other room, the wailing cries of suffering had started to drive me mad.

Daciana had been called away by her mother to tend to the injured and I didn't know where Christian was, but I imagined he must have been overwhelmed.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, I thought as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Trying to keep my mind occupied, I surveyed the room slowly. A grand chandelier made of tear-shaped crystals hung over an ornate gold chair.

The chair looked like it hadn't seen use in a while, but I could clearly picture Henric sitting on it, his lion eyes scrutinizing the room, the permanent scowl he'd worn creasing his forehead.

The ghost of his memory tickled the back of my neck, sending a shiver through my entire body.

"You're not going to lock me in here with one of your charms, are you?" I asked Grandfather Nandru. I remembered how Christian had locked me in a room once somewhere in this castle using one of his grandfather's magical tricks.

"You are free to do as you please, Aimee. But I trust you understand the gravity of what will happen to you if you leave this room and try to heal again."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I'll die."

"Precisely."

"You seem to know a lot about faerie magic," I ventured.

"Yes. I spent many years in faerie, back when your mother was queen."

"What was she like?" I whispered.

He heard me.

"Oh, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was the most tolerant of the faerie royals. There never was and never will be another leader like her. I am sure of it."

"Is faerie...is that where you learned your healing potions?"

"Yes," the grandfather said, with a small smile tugging up his lips. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows, out into the slowly lightening sky at the east.

Thankfully, these windows did not overlook the stone bridge. I did not even want to imagine what all those bodies would look like under the harsh reality of daylight.

The sky outside looked like cotton candy. Pink and blue fluffy clouds now becoming streaked with the oranges of dawn.

"Do you know why it happens?" I asked as I took a seat on one of the marble steps.

The areas stained by Reader blood were difficult to avoid.

"I suspect it's because of your mixed race. Soulsucker's cannot give life. They can only take it. And faeries are meant to do the opposite. I think your body has a hard time with killing when half of your genes were made for healing. I think that when you use a great deal of magic, you begin to use your own spirit. This is why you died tonight."

"So what you're saying is that I technically suck my own soul out? That's freaking twisted."

"Faeries and Soulsuckers were never meant to procreate, young Aimee. But your mother...she didn't care about labels or race. She was both loved and hated for it."