40. A New World Order

“Wait,” Ash said, sounding incredulous, “you’re telling me the Illuminati are real?”

Liora nodded as she finished buttoning her dress with deliberate slowness. His eyes tracked her fingers.

“They were the steering committee, now they’re headless. It’s time for a house call.”

She cast her gaze around the entry room. His boots were by her bed, and his battle-stained clothes lay crumpled in a heap in the corner. The smell of old blood, Mara’s sickly essence, and antiseptic clung to them.

Her nose wrinkled, chest tightening. Sharing space with a frost-bitten creature determined to make his mark, no matter how untidy, set her nerves aflame.

Her mind yelled at her to incinerate them. To tell him to stop invading her every sacred space. It felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of barbed wire as she left it alone.

Better to get used to it, she supposed. But she filed it away—leverage for their endless future arguments.

“You’re sure they’re still there?” He asked, eyes glinting with barely suppressed malice. “They can’t all be idiots. Surely they’ll—”

She cut in. “I left a spy in their leader, Silas. It’s been… gossiping.”

He laughed as she rose from the edge of the bed, shadows writhing. She cracked her neck and tested the weight of her horns he hadn’t allowed her to hide.

They’d slept for two days, only waking in the mid afternoon. She’d spent a good hour lounging in the bath before returning to her room to dress now.

Two hours later, twilight neared as Ash towel-dried his hair, having just left the shower. She’d shut out his thoughts for the time being. Allowing him to tease her vocally and mentally was a battle she didn’t want to fight today.

She shoved the musings away, moving to her vanity to finish putting herself together. Her dark tendrils combed and smoothed her hair into its usual loose waves while she painted her lips with the scarlet lipstick she always wore. She set the tube back down once done.

Her hand rose to her collarbone, fingers tracing the gilded VIII brand shining there. Her mouth down-turned, stomach fluttering as it lay dormant. She’d burned the vows into her own flesh seven times.

Had meant every single one of them. She wasn’t sure what to feel now that it was no longer hers. It was theirs. Behind her, Ash cleared his throat. Voice softer than it had been since they’d returned home.

“It’s pretty.”

She scoffed, hands itching to cover it up. “It’s a scar.”

His dark chuckle slithered over her skin even from feet away. “Nah, it’s a receipt. And you’ve missed the return window. No take backs.”

An unladylike snort escaped her. She held her tongue as he finished getting ready. She listened to the rustle and rough slide of fabric getting pulled on behind her.

“What’s the play then, Red? More blood?”

Liora turned to find him dressed in clothing that looked suspiciously familiar. It was the same fashion her shadows liked to weave. Her pulse jittered, teeth clenching.

Those little traitors, she cursed silently. Her umbral vipers turned their amorphous heads away from her and ignored her internal interrogation.

She frowned. Ash shrugged as though saying, take it up with them. I didn’t ask them for it.

“We’re just collecting signatures.” She paused, head cocking as she considered. “Or teeth.”

He grinned at her, cracking his knuckles. She turned back to the window and sighed. Her toes curled inside her heeled shoes. She hadn’t missed this part of war—the peace treaties always made for a rather dull affair.

She sat straighter. As Ash’s gelid aura approached, cool hands settled atop her bare shoulders. The thin straps of the emerald dress she’d donned left her every scar on full display.

His thumbs pressed into the aged silver claw marks raking her shoulders. His frigid breath ghosted over her ear and danced down the column of her neck as he said, “Just teeth? That’s no fun.”

Her entire body reacted to him, flame firing to life low in her abdomen, heat washing over her as he touched her. Madness, she’d get nothing done if she always gave into it.

Her very nature was a blaze he constantly poured gasoline into. It seemed to be his favorite hobby. She shook him off and stood, not looking at him as she nodded. Her magic gathered across from them.

“Shall we?” She said as the shadows deepened into a doorway of pure Veil void in the room’s corner.

Ash appeared at her side, a knowing grin on his arrogant mouth, giving a mocking bow as he crooned, “After you, boss.”

She glared at him, but her heart shuddered in her chest, growing legs and running away from her. He was going to be the death of her, and she had handed him the weapon with which to do it.

Shut up. You love it, her demon purred. She scowled at nothing, grabbed his arm to ignore it and dragged him into the darkness.

Warmth and complete blackness enveloped them. Stars glittered in the shadow-smoke as she fixed her haughty mask into place.

She focused on pulling up a little magic from the refilling well inside her. Just in case, as bruised light opened up.

She’d considered phasing straight inside, proving their wards were useless with her sentinel inside. She chose a more fitting route. Gravel crunched under their feet as they approached the bulletproof glass doors.

Ash slid his arm around her waist. She nearly stepped away, not wanting those inside this cursed house to spot any weakness in them. But their united front would serve better as they splintered the opposition’s foundations.

His iced-citrus scent infused her senses as she inhaled. She lifted her hand, and a pulse of blackest magic arced from her palm and sank into the door.

It trembled, groaning slightly. The glass fractured, and her power swallowed it, and they entered the enemy’s fortress.

He chuckled and said, “Never heard of a bell, demon?”

She cut him a gimlet eye, mouth twitching to smirk, but raised voices straight ahead had her spine steeling. The long corridor they stood in was as clinical and hollow as their plans for monsters had been.

They had painted everything white. Her lip curled as they prowled along the hallway. The voices grew louder and louder.

The slam of a glass on an oak table made the racket fall silent as she and Ash rounded the corner. She took in the scene with a general’s eye.

Four exits, including the one they came through. Glass and white painted stone walled them on all sides.

A twisted metal chandelier lit up the space. False fire roared in an overpriced minimalist hearth. Seven men and two women sat around a massive dark table, a crimson velvet runner ran along the middle of it.

Crystal brandy decanters shimmered atop it, half-empty glasses either sat beside them, or they had paused halfway to their mouths. Shocked expressions marked each of them as Liora strode forward.

Ash leaned against the wall behind her, ever-present smirk on his lips. She eyed and dismissed the pitiful collection of mortals who’d dared try to take from her. From her world.

Silence and shadows shrieked. Her own blood rushing in her veins seemed too loud as she memorised every haggard, exhausted face. One of them, a raven-haired middle-aged woman, still had rusted bloodstains marking her cashmere sweater.

Silas’s wife, Liora, decided, given her severe glare.

“You—”

Liora nodded as her shadows draped the walls, rippling like liquid silk. The mortals scrambled to hide their fear and panic. Spines straightened, eyes sharpened, mouths thinned and pursed.

Liora chuckled. The sound shattered the crystal decanters. The humans flinched. She lifted her chin and spoke in a bored tone.

“I believe you’ve read my terms?” She didn’t wait for an answer, not as her shadow blade on their table lay perfectly still under her order. “One: the hunting stops. Two: your archives are burned. And three…”

She let her words hang for a moment. The oxygen in the room seemed to vanish for the mortals. None breathed or blinked or so much as twitched. Her heartbeat slowed, claws unsheathing as she smiled slowly.

“…you’ll live your mortal lives and die mortal deaths. The Balance is not a suggestion. It is law. Heed it or die. Your choice.”

An arctic tug on the bond yanked at her sternum, sensations of winter fire and want from the vampire standing watch behind her. She set her jaw as the humans gazed at her. The silence was absolute.

Ringing like a dissonant bell until a white-haired man with a chemically petrified forehead broke it. His hands slammed on the oak, pushing to his feet as he spat at Liora.

“We will not be dictated to by abominations such as you. We had a deal—“

“Silas had a deal—he lost his head for it,” Liora interrupted in a dry tone.

Another man, younger than the first but just as idiotic, surged to his feet. His green irises appeared infected due to his ruddy complexion and dark circles.

He let out a wet, hacking laugh that bounced off every corner of the lavish area. “Do you really think this started with Silas?” He jabbed a trembling finger at the shadow-blade on the table. “1897! My great-grandfather. He learned of your existence.”

He gasped for air, eyes bloodshot and a fervid, inherited zeal gleamed in them. “He bought the knowledge. Traded his soul and the souls of his future line for it. Every last one of us.”

Liora held her breath, shadows forming into serpents as Ash scoffed. The mortal wasn’t done. They always liked to prattle on, even after they’d lost.

Hubris was a poison they’d all liberally imbibed, she derided in her head.

“And that gave you the right to play God?” She said, voice a low threat she’d have no trouble following through on.

The man nodded, gesturing wildly to the others. He nearly smacked the crying woman’s quivering jaw. The sour reek of his fear-drenched rage clogged her nostrils. It turned her stomach, nausea building.

“Everything was a cover. A story we told the hunters!” He stopped, coughing, sweat trailing his temple. “We weren’t trying to destroy you, you stupid bitch—”

Liora’s growl didn’t have time to leave her throat as Ashton’s rumbled through the room.

The hair on her nape stood on end, gooseflesh scattering across every inch of her exposed skin, as he said, “Careful, weakling. Or Silas won’t be the only one without a head.”

Tension strung between them and the group across from them. It shuddered like a Hangman’s knot growing tauter by the second. The bloodstained woman covered her face with her hands as her shoulders heaved, smothering a sob into her palms.

Liora only smirked as she said, “no, let him talk. It’s all they’re good for.” She glanced at the younger man, head tilting as she waved a hand at him. “You were saying?”

He spluttered and choked, eyes jumping from her to Ash over her shoulder. She stifled a laugh as he gaped like a pig roasting on a spit. His quiet voice offered her his truth.

“We weren’t trying to destroy you.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth and blew out a breath. “We wanted to find the right formula and take it for ourselves.” His gaze swept over her horns, her shadows he’d bargained his soul to see, hunger clear in his gaze. It was almost religious. “Why kill monsters when we could be a monster?”

The room froze. He had laid bare their nonsensical dreams, and the others looked at him, faces warped by a mixture of horror, outrage, and betrayal. Liora didn’t move, but shadows reared and slithered around the table.

Shortsighted fools. All of them.

She shook her head, expression shifting from regal boredom to something colder, ancient—unadulterated contempt. Her stomach tensed as she clicked her tongue.

“Ah,” she said, her single syllable coated in ice. “I see. You didn’t want to burn the monsters. You wanted to steal their skins. How pathetically mortal.”

She took a single slow step forward to watch their eyes widen. Her shadow blade rose from the table like a cobra, its point aimed at the man’s heaving chest.

“And your ancestors demon? What was his name?” She had to know.

If she had to hunt him down and kill him, she needed a name.

Every eye turned to the red-faced man, and the women shook their heads. The men appeared resigned. Most of them.

“K-Karthax,” the man said, bravado crumbling in front of his kin.

A genuine smile sprawled across Liora’s lips. Her claws pierced the heels of her hands. The frisson of pain eased her mind. The urge to laugh was almost impossible to resist.

“Karthax. I wondered what he’d been up to before I found him. I tore his essence apart in… 2014 I believe. It took me a decade to find all the pieces.” She examined her talons and feigned a sigh, amber and violet spiked onyx eyes spearing the man as she declared, “Your contract is void. Your souls are already forfeit to a pile of ash.”

She waited as her words sank in, taking great delight in watching the color drain from their faces. The candle of hope died in their eyes as she let a ghost of her true form show. A flash of wings, scales, and tail was all it took to set their pulses racing.

She savoured it. Karthax hadn’t threatened the Balance. No, he’d threatened her. Her status as the Veil’s warden. He’d died before his first strike flew. It only made this victory sweeter.

She twisted the knife so deep they’d never get it out. “You made a deal with a minor imposter. And in your greed, you missed the real deal staring you in the face.” She gestured lazily at Ash. “See, all you fools had to do was die with enough fire in your hearts to attract a true bargain. Or get bitten by one of his kind and pray you survived the change. But you…” Liora sighed. “You traded eternity, your souls, for a lab coat.”

The mortals remained gargoyle-still for a moment. Then, a clamour of furious voices ricocheted off the glass walls.

One man threw insults and grabbed a woman by the throat when she pleaded with him to leave with her. Liora snapped his wrist, her shadow tendril moving faster than a blink.

The man screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his arm to his chest as his hand dangled at a sickening angle. His wife left him there.

She left him crawling after her as she ran away. The man who’d spilled their secrets shouted one last time as he and most of the others fled the room.

“We accept your terms. Consider our research yours to destroy.”

As they ran for their worthless lives, Liora gave them one last warning.

“Remember. My shadow is in every corner, every pane of glass. I am the Balance. Step out of line, and I will know.”

Ash snorted, body tingling, core warming, as the impulse to touch her roared through him. She hadn’t spilled a drop of blood, but they’d bled out anyway. He pushed away from the wall, not stopping until he stood beside Liora.

He splayed a hand on the small of her back, frost beading her dress as she slid her eyes to his. Her pulse elevated as he dug his fingers into her skin through the fabric.

“Looks like two want to play hardball, Red,” he said, nodding toward the matching set of jawlines—the older, white-haired prick, and his younger, paler copy.

“You will not chase us out. You can’t ask us to erase years of research!” The father yelled, spittle flecking his manicured moustache.

“Indeed,” Liora muttered, not even looking at them. “They’re yours. I find their smell offensive.”

Perfect, he grinned, and nipped the curve of her horn. Fangs scraping the edge in a silent thank you, relishing her full body shiver before he spun and aimed for the two men.

To the mortals, he was a burst of cold air whipping over them. For Ash, it was a leisurely stroll into their personal space that he’d long wanted to take.

He cupped the son’s cheek instead of grabbing his neck. His pinky stroking the frantic pulse under the jaw. It was a mockery of affection.

He leaned in close. “All that research. All your tests,” he said, voice a frozen whisper for the young man’s ears alone. “And you never figured out the first rule.”

The man’s eyes widened. Confusion and terror battled within them. His heartbeat pounded too loudly.

Crack.

The crisp sound made Ash hum. It was a precise lateral jerk akin to opening a stuck jar lid. The body went limp before the brain registered that the spinal cord was gone.

Ash let it drop like a sack of loose meat. Useless, messy, and destined for the dump. He turned to the father.

He still bellowed that wordless, primal scream of grief and rage. Ash had given the same one the night they’d ordered and handed out his brother’s brutal death.

Payback had finally arrived. A knot inside him loosened as the thought resounded.

Ash tilted his head. “The first rule,” he said, loud enough for those hiding upstairs to hear. “Is that monsters don’t ask.”

He didn’t touch the older man. Too easy. He simply exhaled. And a plume of arctic concentrated air shot down the man’s open, screaming throat. For a second, nothing happened.

The crackle-crunch of arteries, muscle, and vocal cords freezing solid splintered his voice. The scream cut off and transformed into a wet, desperate gurgle as the man’s blunt nails clawed at his own throat.

His eyes bulged. Tendons and ice-clogged veins popped out of his flesh before he slumped forward. Hitting the table face first with a satisfying thwack.

Flesh and blood and bone had become a statue of ice and shock. Ash wiped a nonexistent speck of dirt from his hand onto the velvet table runner.

Nodding once. He glanced at Liora, who hadn’t moved a muscle, her face a mask of sublime boredom.

“See?” He said, voice returning to its normal, teasing cadence. “Told you they wouldn’t be any fun. The illuminati conspiracies humans love give them too much credit.”

She scoffed, but he spied the pink flush creeping up her neck. His silver eyes locked on the flash of cleavage her dress offered him.

“Arrogance will be your downfall.”

He chuckled as he walked back to her side. He bent down, teeth tugging at her earlobe, fingers tangling in her shadows. “Good thing I’ve got you to watch my back.”

He watched as her expression hardened, eyes rolled, and her mouth snarled. Her scent of pomegranate and burnt sugar taunted his nose, and her warm shadows curled around his ankles. His gaze fastened on her pulse, like a trapped moth’s wings fluttering in her neck.

“Let’s go,” she said, turning on her heel. Giving him no room to argue.

He just laughed, used to her theatrics as he fell into synchronised step with her. They left the glass house and never once looked back. Night had taken deep root while they’d settled the last score.

Stars glimmered overhead. The crash of ocean waves, murmuring breeze, and its salty tang invaded his nose. Once, he had enjoyed the smell of it.

After getting trapped on that damned island, he never wanted to inhale it this close again. Bastards. They ruined everything they touched.

Good riddance. Liora’s hand gripped his wrist, shadows rearing to phase them.

He stopped her. “Wait. Not yet.”

She looked up at him, a frown marring her brow as her heat soaked into him.

“I believe we had a reservation before they rudely captured me. I want scallops, wine, and the pleasure of watching you hate every second.”

His voice had turned soft, teasing lilt lighter than usual as she stared woodenly at him. He smothered the urge to laugh.

Silly demon. Vampires don’t forget.

He cocked his brow as Liora made a good show of huffing, tossing her shimmering copper hair over her shoulder, and her shoulders stiffened. The sugar in her scent sweetened even more, his bergamot bleeding through it. Good, that was all he needed.

“You can’t be serious. We can’t just—“

“—yes we can. You let my hunter heart melt and decompose in the penthouse while destroying their world. I think it’s only fair you let me take you to dinner.”

She sighed, a long-suffering sigh he couldn’t wait to hear every day for the rest of his long life. Her heartbeat skittered and ran faster by the second.

Her hand slid from his wrist, hot fingers crawling the length of his palm, and threading through his cold ones. He nearly stumbled back from her.

Usually, he had to initiate the affectionate touches. Something new glinted in her black eyes. Something fragile, but stronger than the hate she used to hide behind.

Relief, maybe, or a second thing he’d figure out later.

“Fine. You’re paying… you owe me.” She smirked as though she knew exactly how his mind had reacted to her hand-holding move.

Her claws scraped his knuckles as he tightened his grip on her.

“There we go.” He winked. “It’s just like old times.”