June 14, 1302

Malluk’s True Temple

Matt lay on his bed, atop the crimson sheets and stared up at the ceiling in the dark, his hands resting on his stomach. There was nothing else he could do. He definitely couldn’t sleep—not with Tess sleeping beside him, holding his arm. He could never sleep if someone was touching him. He never let people touch him unless there was something in it for him. So why was he lying there with her pressed close and holding his arm?

Because she had asked. Because she was alone. Because she was scared.

But he was the reason for that. He was the one who had brought her here, the one who was going to sacrifice her in the morning. So why would she want to be near him at all?

She was insane—it was the only answer that made any sense.

He turned his head to look at her. Her long, tangled brown hair and slightly bruised face were bathed in the soft, silvery glow of the full moon outside his window. She looked peaceful, as if she weren't going to die in just a matter of hours. Did she think he wouldn’t do it? She should know better—he was the heir, the son of Kieran, the truest disciple of the God of Darkness.

What would his god think of him right now, letting a prisoner sleep in his bed, clinging to him? It was disgusting, this display of caring, of heart. He didn’t have a heart. So why didn’t he throw her back in the dungeon where she belonged?

He stared at her for a couple of minutes, but finally sighed and decided to get away from her for a while. He pulled her hands off him and slipped out of bed. She stirred, but kept sleeping.

Still wearing his leather pants, he lit a cigarette and walked barefoot across the warm marble floor. Pulling open the wooden door set into the stone wall, he found Pyra waiting for him in the hallway. She was as tall on all fours as he was standing, with tall, pointed ears—one of which had a chunk missing—and eyes that glowed like embers in a fire. The hellhound had been his pet for as long as he could remember.

Pyra nudged him with her enormous head and whined softly. She was confused; he was never upset like this. His mood was always calm, violent, or lustful. But now he was agitated and—though he hated to admit it—confused himself.

He stoked her neck, feeling her coarse black fur against his callused hand. “I’m fine,” he told her quietly.

She cocked her head to the side.

“You calling me a liar?” He huffed a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, guess I am. But you can’t help.”

She whined again and pushed her head into him affectionately.

He continued to pet her for another moment, then sighed. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

She lowered her body down, offering to let him climb up on her. He hadn’t ridden her since he was young, but she still offered all the time.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’ll walk.”

By the time they got to the kitchen, he decided he wasn’t hungry after all. He got a steak out of the ice chest and threw it to Pyra. “Go,” he ordered lightly.

She happily caught the raw meat with her long, pointed teeth and ran out of the room with it, her heavy paws pounding against the floor.

Smashing the end of his cigarette between his thumb and finger, he tossed what was left of it into a nearby trash bin, then wiped his hand on a small towel hanging next to the sink. He didn’t know what to do, so he just stood there, staring at the room. The stone walls were almost black in the shadows, the light from the lantern hanging above the table in the center of the room not reaching very far. He tapped the lantern softly. It began to swing back and forth, and he watched the light and shadows on the far side of the room move with it.

He felt lost. Here in the place he was most familiar with, where he had always been the most at home, he felt somehow out of place. When he tried to think about why, the thought came to him: Tess is free.

Being around her made him realize that he wasn’t free at all. He had always thought he was. He had money, power, and the ability to make people fear him, but he wasn’t free. Now he felt the confines of his cage, gilded as it was, and it infuriated him. Anything else in life he could use money or violence to have his way, but not this.

The more he thought about it, the more trapped he felt.

Anger and resentment boiled inside him until he felt as if he'd burst. Suddenly, he slammed his fist onto the mahogany table. The feel of the wood breaking under the forceful blow, the sound of the boards cracking, even the explosion of pain that bloomed in his now-broken hand, was satisfying. And yet, it didn’t help at all. He looked down at his bloody knuckles and laughed humorlessly.

“What’d the table do to you this time?” came a woman’s sultry voice.

He closed his eyes and grumbled, “It was there.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” his mother said, amused. “I’m glad to see you’re putting an end to tables being there.”

If she hadn’t been a ghost, he would have hit her; the fact that his hand would go right through her irritated him further. But the lack of physical form didn’t stop her from trying to touch him. He opened his eyes when he felt goosebumps on the back of his neck, and saw her floating before him, trying to run her translucent gray fingers through his short blond hair.

“I’m so sick of not being able to touch anything.” Kieran sighed. “I’m jealous of the table at this point.”

“Guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get the same treatment,” he said, his voice low and filled with venom.

“Oh,” she purred. “Are you wanting to manhandle me?” She cocked her head curiously to one side and smirked.

He rolled his eyes and took the silver cigarette case from his back pocket. “Or something,” he muttered. He lit a cigarette and sat down heavily in a chair against the wall.

She floated closer, stopped a few feet in front of him, and relaxed as if leaning against an invisible wall. She looked like she was only twenty-four, the age she had been when she was murdered. He had been five years old at the time, but he still clearly remembered everything—her deep red lips, her long black hair, her lightly tanned skin, and her skimpy black leather outfits. She still wore one of them, though it blended in with the rest of her smoky figure.

“I know something that’ll cheer you up,” she told him.

“What’s that?” he asked as he studied his hand, moving each finger in turn, to see which ones he had broken. It seemed to be just the last three.

“Let’s play with one of the sacrifices. I hear you have the girl in your room already—let’s torture her. Well, you torture, I’ll watch.” She grinned eagerly.

He exhaled noisily. “No.” He had the urge to yell it, to tell his mother that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Tess. He had to kill her, but he wouldn’t hurt her, and would make sure she didn’t feel any pain when the time came. That was all he could do for her now.

Kieran frowned. “Why the hell not?”

He stood abruptly. “Because I’m not your fucking puppet!”

But he was, and he hated it. He was trapped by duty. Obeying her and his god was his destiny. It was why she had given birth to him in the first place—to be her heir... though it was really just another name for pet. As a child he had known he was precious to her. Now, as an adult, he understood that he was only important because of what he could do for her.

He had never stopped to see that before, until Tess had started asking so many damn questions. He had never cared before. Kieran was everything she should be. She was a perfect disciple of Malluk: heartless and cruel. He had always admired her and been proud that she was his mother. What else did he want?

He looked into her eyes, searching. They were gray now, but he remembered how they had been black and had shone like marble. They were still heated, though, still passionate and—even as a ghost—full of life. He realized that he was wishing her eyes would show the same caring that Tess’s did, wishing that his own mother would care about him as much as the girl he was about to kill.

He let out a smoky growl as walked out of the kitchen. He was suddenly disgusted with himself again. Did he actually want people to… what? Love him?

Tomorrow needed to come soon. He needed to kill Tess and get away from her. She was making him soft and weak. He despised both qualities.

“Where are you going?” his mother asked, floating after him.

“To my room,” he answered curtly.

“Good.”

“To sleep.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “But the girl—”

“Will be left where she is. I’ll get more use out of her in the morning,” he said firmly, though he had no intention of doing so. “And you’re not invited."

“You’re really no fun lately,” she complained. “I do hope you’re in a more playful mood tomorrow. I’m finally getting a physical form back, and I demand fun.”

He paused and sighed heavily as he turned his head to the side but didn’t fully look back at her. “Everything will be different tomorrow,” he told her, calming down now. He took comfort in the fact that at least he wouldn’t be struggling with ridiculous thoughts and feelings once Tess was gone. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gave his mother a small smile. “We’ll have fun,” he promised. “Just leave me alone until then.”

“Fine,” she said easily. “Take a healing potion before you go to bed. I want you fit for tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

She ran her ethereal hand through his hair again and smiled. “Soon,” she murmured, then disappeared through the wall beside him.

“Soon,” he agreed quietly, though she was already gone.

He stopped by the bathroom on his way back and drank a small bottle of sweet-tasting, pink liquid. As the tingling warmth of the healing potion spread through him, the cuts on his hand closed and the pain disappeared. He washed off the blood, then went to his bedroom.

Tess stirred when he closed the door behind him, but she didn’t wake up. She felt for his arm and, when she didn’t find it, grabbed his pillow and snuggled it instead. He sat on the edge of the bed, lit another cigarette, and watched her sleep. He struggled with the insane urge to save her—just take her and run—as well as the desire to kill her now and get it over with.

When he finished his cigarette, he flicked it out the window, then pulled the dagger from his boot beside the bed. Leaning over, he ran the tip of the blade down her arm. She continued to sleep soundly. She might be a fighter, but she hadn’t been on her own long enough to have the instincts of one. He could kill her now, and it would be over before she even had time to wake up. He caressed her jaw with the tip of his dagger, moving down to her throat, then held the blade there for a while as the battle continued inside him.

He sighed and put the dagger away. He didn’t want to kill her. Damn her for not leaving when she had the chance. He had tried to save her. He had told her to get away from him before they got to the temple, before any of Malluk’s people knew he had her. But she hadn’t listened. She was too brave, or rather too stubborn and stupid. She couldn’t give up. She had to try to save the world from Kieran, even if she died trying—which she would.

Her necklace, the golden locket with a lotus engraved on it, hung around her neck and lay on the pillow beside her. He lifted it a few inches and opened it, looking at the little picture of her family inside. Nineteen years ago, her family had murdered his mother. He remembered his world crumbling around him that day. His mother had been everything to him at the time, and they had taken her from him. They had left him with just his father, a man who had hated his him and had done everything he could to show it once Kieran was gone.

Did Tess mean everything to her parents? Would they be devastated when she died? Did her little brother look up to her and think she was the greatest person in the world, just as Matt had once thought of his mother? Did he see his sister through a child’s eyes—too young to really understand? Young enough to think everything was simple and sure, and people could be perfect?

Tess seemed like she was Ayden’s world… but if Ayden had cared, he wouldn’t have left her that night. Ayden had hated and distrusted him, but when Matt had had sex with Tess, Ayden had taken off. Still, Matt had given him another chance to show he cared: he had told Ayden what would happen to Tess if he didn’t come save her. He had even called off the ambush he had originally set up for anyone who might come after her. He figured that at least her father and uncle would come, but maybe she wasn’t worth the risk. There wasn’t much time left, and they still hadn’t come.

And here he was, risking too much for her. He didn’t know what he would do if they did come. How could he save himself, let them save Tess, and still manage to bring his mother back? He had no idea. He wondered if he should set up the ambush again. This girl wasn’t worth the trouble—he didn’t even know why he was doing any of it.

I care about her.

No! He pushed the thought away. There was another reason—there had to be.

Filled with questions and without any answers—at least ones he would accept—he got up and left the room again. He needed something to take his mind off things. Thinking wasn’t helping; it was just frustrating him. He stopped in the hall, deciding which way to go: right, to the dungeon, or left, to the sleeping quarters? Not wanting to deal with a struggle, he turned left.

He headed towards Anna’s room; she was a new cleric that he knew wanted him. At least someone would be happy tonight. He walked in without knocking, but the quiet sound of the door and his footsteps woke her. She looked at him warily, unsure of what he wanted, until he started undoing his belt. Then she smiled and pulled the sheet back for him, revealing her curvaceous body. She was already naked. Most people slept naked in the constant heat of the temple.

His fingers paused on the top button of his pants. “You on the potion?” he asked. “And don’t you dare lie to me.”

All women on Kelstone started taking the birth control potion as soon as they were able to conceive, especially since it took away their monthly cycle—unless, of course, they wanted to get pregnant. And too many of the women who served Malluk wanted to be impregnated by the heir, to have their child in such a position of power. But children were not something he ever wanted.

“I’m on it,” she assured him quietly.

He stripped and went to her, forgetting everything else as he buried himself in the eager woman.

—————

By the time morning came, he felt worn out and tired, having not slept at all. He sat on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette, and watched Tess once again. He would have to wake her soon; his mother wouldn’t let him put off the ritual much longer. Priest Calus had already sent someone to let him know that everyone was ready and waiting in the altar room.

Tess opened her eyes on her own just a minute later and blinked a few times. When her deep brown eyes finally locked on him, they just stared at each other for a moment. The caring look in her eyes annoyed him, but he was too tired to feel it too strongly. He felt resigned to it all. He had no control over the day and no choice but to do what he had to. He just wanted it to be over with.

“It’s time to go,” he told her.

She instantly grew scared, and once again he had the urge to run with her, to save her. He ignored the feeling, as well as her panicked attempts to stall. He flicked his cigarette out the window and sighed heavily. It wouldn’t hurt to give her the truth.

"Look,” he said quietly. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t stop this. It’s too late for that.” He explained why—her death was his mother’s desire, and no one would go against the Kieran. If he let Tess go, he would be punished just like anyone else, and Malluk’s people would make sure Tess still died.

“I should have listened to you when you tried to let me go.”

“You should have never met me,” he muttered sourly, then took a deep breath and got up. “Come on.”

She stood, too. “You don’t really want to kill me though, do you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want now.”

“It matters to me. I’d rather think that you don’t hate me, that we were friends… sort of. And that you just have to do it.”

He rolled his eyes. What the hell was wrong with her? “You’re so strange. I’ve never met anyone like you. I like you. That’s why I tried to let you go.” He glanced over his shoulder and spoke quietly, worried his mother would come impatiently to get him and overhear him admitting such things. “You’re the first person I ever thought was worth saving.” He thought of his ex-girlfriend, and added, “Well, without it being for my benefit. You and your stupid puppy,” he confessed, referring to Ayden and feeling disgusted with himself for saying it.

“How much of that was you?” she wanted to know. “Before, I mean… like when we were talking in Oraunt, or… how much was real?”

He had no idea why that mattered, but he answered anyway. “I already told you, the only thing I lied about was my mother and Iris. Everything else was real. I don’t like bullshit, so I lied as little as possible.”

She nodded. “Ew. So you really have eaten minotaur then, huh?” She laughed, trying to joke, but it failed and she quickly dissolved into tears again. She wiped them away and looked up at him. She was so vulnerable, so far from the spirited fighter she had been when he met her. He hated that. He was the one who had broken her spirit; he was good at breaking people, but now, ridiculously, seeing it in her made him feel bad.

Suddenly she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him. He stiffened. What the hell was she doing? Uncomfortable, he put a hand on her shoulder, intending to shove her away… but he didn’t. He struggled with the urge to hug her back, feeling the need to comfort her. He inwardly groaned at himself. He needed to get this over with—to kill this insane woman and get back to being normal.

Finally, he pushed her away. “Let’s go,” he said tightly, then grabbed her arm and led her to the altar room. He did his best to push away all his emotions, to feel cold. He reminded himself how much he enjoyed killing people. He attempted to conjure his normal feelings of bloodlust, but they wouldn’t come. All he felt was dread at having to kill her.

He was glad, at least, that he was able to keep his face neutral when he greeted his mother and Calus, who were both standing—or in her case, floating—near the stone altar. He tried to take his time with the ritual. He sacrificed a man first, and killing him was easy. He glanced out the doorway towards the temple entrance, hoping against hope that Ayden or her family would burst in and do what he couldn’t. Save her, he thought. Damn it, just get here and save her.

But they didn’t come, and a moment later he was picking Tess up and carrying her. She was slender and light in his arms, and she made no attempt to struggle, but it still took an enormous amount of effort to lay her on the bloodstained altar. Just get it over with, he told himself. He lifted the dagger, but only made it as far as her arm. It rested there, its blade covered with the man’s blood.

Then he made the mistake of meeting Tess’s gaze. Her soft brown eyes were filled with fear, but they also held the same warmth and caring they always did. She should hate him, not care about him. Why did she? Why would she care about someone like him at all? She made no sense. His feelings made no sense. Why did this girl get to him so much?

He cared about her. Damn it! He cared.

He closed his eyes and struggled. Just kill her, he thought. Just do it. But something inside him broke, and he was suddenly filled with a firm resolve. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. This girl had called him friend before she even knew who he was, before she knew of his position and money. She had wanted nothing more than his friendship. No one had ever wanted just that from him before.

“Hurry up!” his mother yelled.

He opened his eyes and met Tess’ gaze again. At that moment, the only thing that mattered was this wonderful, stupid girl who, for some crazy reason, cared about him. She couldn’t die—not her, not Tess.

Then he did the unimaginable: in one swift motion, he sliced the rope that bound her hands, defying his mother, betraying his god. They didn’t matter; only Tess did—the only real friend he had ever had, even if it was only for a little while.

Tess’s eyes widened in shock, but she immediately jumped into action. She sat up and landed a hard kick in the chest of a cleric that came forward. The man fell into Matt, who slit his throat and threw him down. The high priest hit Matt with a glowing red ball of power, and hot pain burst in his shoulder, but the pain only fueled his resolve.

“Kill her!” Kieran ordered. “And tie my son up!”

Guards came at him and, with Tess’s help, he killed them. Suddenly, a lightning bolt hit the high priest, and Matt’s gaze shot to the balcony, finding the person who had cast the spell. To his relief, he saw Ayden standing there with her father and uncle.

But then he noticed the guards beneath the balcony, out of the others’ view. Their bows were drawn. He followed their aim, finding their target—Tess. Without another thought, he dropped his sword and the Spirit Dagger and pulled Tess into his arms, then turned with her, getting her out of harm’s way.

Seconds later, he felt two arrows sink into his back, and he let her go as he collapsed onto the ground. Tess fell into a crouch beside him. Her hand caressed his face tenderly, and her eyes were caring and pained. He smiled weakly in return.

Then Tess screamed murderously at the guards and jumped over him, racing toward them. Matt looked around for his mother, who had remained by the altar. Kieran’s gaze was focused on Tess, and she raised a hand to throw a ball of energy. He found the Spirit Dagger lying near him—the thing that held the power to bring a ghost back to life, or to destroy it completely.

With excruciating effort, he grabbed it and pulled himself up, clenching his jaw and using the altar for support. The pain in his back was intense, but he kept going; he had to save Tess. He lifted the dagger and slashed at his mother. She screamed, and then her spirit burst and disappeared.

Just then, a sword that was thrust into his back, and he looked down to see the bloody blade come out of his stomach. It was pulled out, and he collapsed once again—but this time, as his body hit the hard floor, everything went dark.