Born of Death (Editing)

33. Darklings in the Seedbed

Water, it was everywhere. The ocean, it roared like a sea dragon its deafening might silencing all around it. She couldn't even hear herself think. Her heart lurched in her chest as the wave swelled, and she threw her hands upward as if she could stop its might. Rosalinda gaped when the water went right through her. What was going on? Her eyes slid over a strange metallic-like container swept away in tumultuous waters. Why was she envisioning such a strange thing? Grasping her head, she yelled as the scene of the blackened sky and raging ocean faded away.

Opening her blurry eyes, she frowned when her unfocused sight cleared and she spotted a creature with green snake-like eyes watching her. Its skin was a blackened red color that reminded of her gallons of blood. Two small horns protruded from its scape, and she watched curiously as its tail swished about on the floor. Her lips twitched when the small creature caught her looking. It leaped from its chair, cackling and dancing in glee.

"Mistress is awake! Master will be so happy!" he exclaimed.

Rosalinda sat up slowly, pushing the sheets aside. What exactly happened to her and why did a strange chill slide along her spine when she thought of the raging ocean?

"What are you?" she questioned, looking for a distraction from her thoughts.

"My name is Gin, Mistress. I am an imp," he said, bowing formally. An imp? The type of darkling that enjoyed playing cruel jokes? Suspicion filled her eyes, and he leered back at her.

"Mistress is smart," he said with a secretive smile. Why was he smiling? Did he think she would trust him?

"Gin, leave Rosalinda alone."

The last time she heard that voice, they were running from a devil hiding in the mirror.

"Midir!" she exclaimed with wide eyes. His spirit form was supposed to be with Cyriac. "What are you doing here? You are in the flesh? But how? What is going on? Where is Cyriac?"

"Thank you, for your services. We would like some privacy," he said. The imp bowed dramatically and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Death's daughter? Death's daughter, how could you hide something so important?" he exclaimed.

"Well, daddy said I shouldn't tell anybody," she said, sliding under the covers. Bleh, why did she have to feel so bad?

"Daddy?! You call him daddy?!" he squeaked in disbelief.

Well, what else was she supposed to call him? Elation filled her when she spotted her father's form leaving the shadows.

"Dumu-mi, you are well. Come to me my child," he whispered, and she launched herself into his arms. She would never forget the look reflected in his cold pale gray eyes before she lost consciousness, an expression of complete and utter despair.

"It's ok," she whispered softly, burying further into his warmth.

"Dumu-mi, where did you go, to where even I, Death, could not have reached you?" he rasped clutching her close.

She didn't know. Only the strange dream gave her pause, and worry. She frowned as the insatiable hunger roared inside of her. She needed to feed.

"I'm hungry," she huffed, hoping to move the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Very well, let's eat, shall we?" he hissed, cupping her hand in his.

Rosalinda watched the current flow on the river bank anticipating the arrival of delicious souls. Her favorite so far was the bright purple ones—souls of powerful demons. She always got a high when eating them. The surge of power from the souls was something she couldn't get enough of. She'd yet to decide if this was a good or bad thing. Still, her stomach trembled in anticipation, and her mouth expanded creating a large vacuum so souls flowed down her throat effortlessly.