The Demon's Half

Chapter 42

Tomorrow.

I'd been unconscious for four days, according to Logan and Odysseus. Jade swore it had been five.
Bo claimed it was just one, but I was pretty sure he only said that to get on everyone's nerves.
And Solange didn't even pretend to care.

"I still can't believe you healed yourself," Logan said from the cell to my right. We had been separated. His voice had that tight edge, half suspicion, half relief.

"Yeah... just used a little power every day."

"Perfect." A voice, sweet and melodic, cut through the stale air. "You're awake."

I turned to a beautiful pair of green eyes and wavy long blonde hair. Camille. The witch from Oz's memory.

"Let's go," she said.

I didn't move. "Where are the Varnoks?"

Before she could answer, Bo's voice floated in, smooth and smug. "Camille? Oh, baby, I missed you."

"Everyone does."

He laughed, low and slow. "Don't you miss me warming your bed?"

A sharp gust of wind sliced through the silence.

He hummed. "Kinky."

She rolled her eyes like it physically hurt. "Let's. Go." Her glare landed on me like I'd personally ruined her week.

I sighed and stood.
My body had mended, but my clothes hadn't. Torn, crusted with blood and mud, damp with something I didn't want to name. The bars groaned open.
Other cells followed, one by one. Metal grinding on metal.

"And don't try anything," she warned, eyes flicking sideways. "Looking at you, Solange."

Logan found my hand, his fingers warm and steady. Camille gripped my other arm—rough at first, performative. But when no one looked, her thumb started drawing slow, lazy circles on my skin. ¿Qué coño le pasa a esta pendeja?

Jade's presence behind me helped. Like she wouldn't let anything else happen to me. We walked. Up the stone steps, through cold, echoing halls. Past the garden. Past three chambers with wings painted on the walls.
Two more hallways.
Camille's touch was growing bolder, slower. Like she didn't care who saw anymore. —the fuck?

Then finally: The Red Dining Hall.
But it wasn't the west wing anymore... was it?
Coño, I was so confused.

Stepping in was harder than I expected. It was like stepping into a memory someone had tried to bury alive. Erick's body. Alilla screaming. Daniel gone. I could still feel Oz's shadows wrapping around me. My stupid heart stuttered at the memory and I wanted to rip it out and step on it.

Camille's grip vanished. I turned and she was gone. I kept walking. Still holding Logan's hand.
Straight to the center of the dinning hall.
Rows of witches everywhere, laughing, eating, sipping from goblets like this was just another celebration. In the corners, chains dragged behind broken men, their mouths slightly apart, as if they weren't mentally here.
And in the dais, Ornella.

Lounging on her throne, sipping wine like we were background noise. She didn't even glance our way. But something was different. Around the dais, around her and the Veil Queens, shimmered a thin flicker of light. A veil. A shield.
Like the one Alilla once made for me.
Oz appeared behind her.
No seat for him this time. A demon on her shoulder. But he didn't stand like the other demons behind each witch. He didn't look like a soldier waiting for an order, he looked like a conqueror.

Their outfits didn't match this time, either.
She wore a white gown that dripped down her curves. Her necklace was all diamond and ego. The crown was bigger than her head and somehow still not enough.
Oz, on the other hand, wore plain black. No gold, no embellishment. No crown. His hand settled on her shoulder. She licked his finger. Licked was the wrong word. She pulled his entire finger in her mouth in the slowest way possible.
Ugh. I nearly threw up.