Free The Demon King by Heather Killough-Walden Page B

only turned its head slightly and seemed to watch her with
even more interest. Moonlight shimmered on its multicolored gems, a
dazzling display of otherworldly beauty. She was half tempted to
just stand still and stare at it, to take in all of its exquisite
splendor. She’d been wanting to see one forever, after all.
    But there was too much fire
in her blood, and she was fueled by magical pastries and tarts, and
there was so much sugar running through her at that moment, it
just had to go
somewhere anyway. So she bared her teeth, allowing her fangs to
extend and fully show. She let the dark power into her eyes and
felt them begin to glow.
    “ I will not be your
puppet,” she hissed. Her power-laden voice echoed eerily in the
dark forest. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, but rang out
like tendrils of power. “I’ve been there and I’ve done that.” She
shook her head, just once. “You’ve chosen the wrong
queen.”
    Now the Stag lifted its
mighty head, and she saw the snowflakes in its gaze twist and spin
in a new flurry wind. She felt something brush against her in the
moonlight, something almost solid in its magical weight. But rather
than the anger she expected, the retaliation she was all but
certain she would receive from the mighty beast, the contact felt
almost pleasant. For just a few strange moments, the world became
surreal. She felt light. She felt… good .
    She felt, even, accepted.
    Then the beast turned and did what she’d
been trying to make it do from the moment it had appeared. It leapt
to life, bounding over the bushes on one side of the path, and
disappearing into the forest beyond.
    Dahlia had no idea what to make of the last
few seconds. But she sure as hell knew what to make of the
encounter altogether.
    She wasn’t queen material,
and she didn’t want to be. She didn’t even know any of the
remaining kings personally! Hell, some of them she had never even
met! She would not be tricked into running a nation she cared positively nothing about. “I am not
one of the Thirteen,” she told the world forcefully. “You’ve got
the wrong girl. And I’m going to prove it.”
     
     
     

Chapter Ten
    You’re
insane . That was what Laz wanted to say to
the man. That was the instinctive sentence that formed on his
tongue, but was never released into the air. He kept it
immobilized, just resting there on his taste buds, because it
didn’t make any sense. It would have been a lie. There was nothing
insane about the man before him. His short cropped hair was bright
orange red, and the brown-red velvet blazer he was wearing was
definitely distinctive and – different . But he wasn’t crazy. Laz
would recognize that.
    There was simply something very, very
inhuman about the guy.
    “ Give me a reason to
believe you,” Laz demanded plainly. He didn’t of course – believe
him. But this man Bael was something magical, and as one of the
Thirteen, it was more or less Laz’s duty to get to the bottom of
any supernatural mystery. And he was a detective.
    “ I can give you many,” Bael
said, opening his hands. “But if one is all you require, then take
this.” He waved his right hand as a magician would, and a white
card appeared between his thumb and forefinger. It looked to be a
business card.
    He held it up and waited patiently.
    Laz weighed his options. In the end, he
lowered his gun and slid it back into his shoulder holster. It
might have seemed immediately silly to many supernaturals that he
had chosen to aim his gun at a paranormal threat in the first
place. What good was a bullet against a vampire or a fae? But the
bullets in his gun’s chamber were not what you would call strictly
regulation.
    Laz stepped forward and
took the card from the man’s outstretched hand. Bael smiled and
lowered his arm. “The message I’ve actually come to deliver is that
you’re in danger, Detective. Your father has many enemies, some
more powerful than others. One in particular has been a thorn