Page 63 of Burn for the Devil
Not only did we now have to struggle with the weaker mammal’s most inconvenient emotions or morals, but we also had to stay in the Third Realm. All of us. My visit to the realm with Samantha had further upset the balance. If anyone went to another realm, they’d be trapped there until the wrongs were righted and the fates approved.
I’d fucked things up and I knew it. It wouldn’t be surprising if someone did throw me off the throne—it was exactly what I would’ve done.
Ammar was wandering around the room, picking up and examining items while he wandered. “Why are you still here?” I asked him, irritated by his continued presence.
He grinned. “For the show.” He stopped his pacing and set a red plastic cup back down on the table. “The only areas affectedby your blundering are those you and your goons frequented.” I eyed him as he spoke, waiting for him to go on. “You need to choose a side.”
“What are you talking about?” I was losing my patience rapidly.
The man wrinkled his nose at a candy wrapper. “The more you fight it, the worse it will get.”
Fight what? Fighting against my father or fighting against the changes, I wasn’t sure. “What I am against is no concern of yours.”
Ammar shook his head. “No, it's not.”
“Go home, Ammar.”
He stopped wandering. “I intend to. I’m going to assume you are aware of the magnitude of the curse on that wine you just drank?”
My hand itched. The lure of pressing my gun to the center of his forehead was compulsive. His constant chattering wouldn’t let me think. However, he was insinuating he knew something I may not. “I know it's under a spell.”
“You drank that whole bottle. You’re choosing a side whether you are aware of it or not.”
“Get to the point Ammar, I have things to do.”
“As do I,” he remarked, giving me a pointed look.
Letting out a deep breath, I said, “Am I going to have to worry about you?”
“I’m not here to interfere, just as I said. I have my own concerns. It's not every day a man in your position chooses good. Or, as good as you can be.” Ammar walked over to the far wall and pressed his palm against the marred plaster before glancing at the ceiling. “A good man can choose to do bad things just as a bad man can choose to do good things. We both know which one you are.”
“Which one are you?” I didn’t really care much and “good” was subjective.
He turned around and faced me. “Can you feel the change yet? Those bottles are all connected. Your magic is compromised but they’re tethered to each other, the bottles.”
Annoyance prickled down my spine. I already knew this, I just couldn’t feel it anymore, the bottles’ connection. The cure drinking the bottles would induce wouldn’t be complete until all of them were consumed and that couldn’t happen fast enough. Two bottles were left and needed to be dealt with as soon as possible.
“Just stay out of my way,” I snapped at the man, turning to leave.
He called after me, “You won’t see me again.”
Ammar didn’t follow as I made my exit from the abandoned home, my mind churning. If the information my friends had uncovered was correct, drinking the contents of the bottles would end this madness. The curse would cease to exist, other than remaining inside us, and the realms would eventually right themselves. If fate allowed.
The only problem was the results would be permanent in those of us who imbibed. We could call that an issue except the interesting thing was, it made us more powerful. While possessing certain human emotions could be seen as a weakness, it also gave us deeper insight and stronger motivations. Having a better handle on interpreting the actions of those around us would keep us ahead of others of our kind rather than forcing us to swing wildly at threats or make rash decisions. All the studying in the world, while useful, did not match real-life experience.
It was too late to back out at this point, with the changes we’d made in reaction to the decay. If you can’t beat them—join them.
I stomped through the woods, shoving branches out of my way, the weight of everything on my shoulders.
The crows must’ve taken their exit, I didn’t see or hear them anywhere as I sought them. Missing the birds and wishing for their company was a foreign feeling. I’d had a trio of wolves I employed in the Fourth, and I’d never formed an attachment to them. I enjoyed their company occasionally, and utilized the beasts when necessary, but when Ilya killed one, I didn’t mourn its passing. Ilya had slaughtered one of the animals to protect his men and then made a rug out of the fur and I’d promptly forgotten about the animal.
Adam opened the car door for me, and I settled back on the seat, shoving my hair back. The chaotic thoughts brought on by the curse would take some getting used to. I had to wonder how humans were able to function as well as they could under the constant assault on their psyche. The word “therapy” popped into my head and chuckled to myself. There wasn’t a therapist skilled enough or discreet enough to help the devil.
Adam pulled the car into my driveway, my armed guards waving us in. Before he could get out of the vehicle, I told him to take me to Samantha. He started the car back up.
What I should’ve been doing was retrieving the bottle that remained in the Fourth Realm somehow, but instead I was standing on my love’s doorstep and letting myself into her home. I crossed the threshold and paused a moment, breathing her in and enjoying her flavor. She tasted of intense sadness, anxiety, and of course smelled like the sweetest blossom she was. Samantha needed me but the pain in my heart told me I needed her more. I was seeking her out for comfort, and I knew it.
The roses I had the foresight to send her earlier were in a vase on her kitchen table. I noted their presence with pleasure. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d thrown them away, based on her noncompliance earlier.