Tazarek: Condemned, #4

By Ava Benton

Tazarek spent years being controlled by a prince of hell. He wants to give into the darkness. To surrender to the dark side of himself. What else is a demon who's been tormented to do?

 

Now he's ready for a life of his own. On earth. Or is he?

 

Eliza's been marked by an ancient demon. She's been tossed out of her coven. Exiled, doomed to live alone in the woods.

 

Until one day, a dark-haired demon enters her life. For the second time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ABP
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201122966

Book preview

1

TAZAREK

Ipushed open the heavy set of doors and peered inside the cavernous foyer. Each time I came back to Carridan’s castle in the Underworld, the notion that I was entering the mouth of the beast struck me, freezing my feet to the stone walkway. Grinding my teeth and reminding myself the bastard was dead, I led the way inside.

Aithen was with me, as were Calrod and Dagon and a few of our allies. I’d hoped Arkon would join us, too, but he refused to leave his mate’s side or their newborn babe.

Arkon, one of the princes of the Underworld, had a family on the surface. I’d seen him there, seen him happy, and met the others’ mates, too. I couldn’t believe they’d managed to find such fierce, formidable mates on the surface.

All those years, running for their lives, and they created a home. Started families.

I’d done nothing these past years except let Carridan control me.

Control me and steal away the one woman in this world my soul called to.

My snarl echoed off the cold stone walls and right back to me. I raged through the foyer and deeper into the castle. The torches lining the walls had been left to burn. The second Carridan had died, the magic he’d used against the princes had been lifted. Without him here to continually feed power to the sigils and totems he’d strategically placed about the Underworld, they’d broken.

It was like coming out of a hazy dream and being immediately hit by the reality of what happened. We’d stormed the castle. Most of Carridan’s demons had fled. There was much to sort through to understand the lengths he’d gone to in order to keep us complacent and why. We passed by the double doors leading to the great hall, and I stopped. My claws scraped across the hard stone while my eyes were drawn to the last spot I’d seen her—the witch I hadn’t been able to save. Heard her screams.

Taz? Calrod asked from behind me.

What? I snapped.

You might want to calm down.

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until I felt the icy touch pulsing from the dagger sheathed at my lower back. I sucked in a sharp breath. None of them knew how much worse these last couple of years had been for me. Telling them wouldn’t make a difference. She was gone. This grief was mine to bear alone.

I grimaced. Sorry.

Don’t apologize to me, Calrod replied. I understand your anger.

He couldn’t, but I kept the thought to myself.

I breathed in deeply once more and let it out through my nose, calming my fury the best I could. The dagger at my back matched the sword at my left hip. They were enchanted with winter’s bane. Whatever they touched, they chilled and turned to ice. I’d had them in my possession for decades. The coldness in them had called to me, though I’d never fully understood why. Too long I’d been without my weapons. They were tied to my emotions. Lately, all I’d felt was unrestrained malice and a need to kill for what was taken from me.

Too bad Carridan was dead. I would’ve enjoyed taking out my wrath on him. His cowardly followers would have to do.

This place reeks, Dagon uttered, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. He shrugged, his feet shifting anxiously while we paused in the center of the palace.

The magic he used over the years has seeped into the stones, I told him. We’ve already discussed plans for knocking it down once we have what we need from it.

I rested my palm on the wall to my right, my lip twitching at the sensation of insects crawling across my skin. This castle of black stone decorated in grey and green banners had once been a beautiful sight, just as the others within the Underworld. Now, all I saw was the evil Carridan allowed to bleed into this place and spread to the rest of our homes. His magic might’ve been lifted from our minds, but a weight remained in the air, a nagging reminder that whatever Carridan had plotted behind these walls, he’d already set in motion before he’d gone to track down Calrod and his brothers.

We should keep moving, Aithen urged, an edge to his voice. I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary, and they need to see it.

See what? Calrod asked.

The main reason we brought you here, I answered. I lifted my foot to take another step, then paused. A small part of me hated to add more worries to Calrod and Dagon, but the moment I’d seen the mark on their mates’ arms, there was no turning back. I aimed for the door that led to the dungeons below our feet. We passed several of our ally demons working to clear out a few remaining Carridan followers from the rooms on the main level and those above us on our way. Carridan had a vault with some of our oldest artifacts in it, I explained while we walked. There were several empty pedestals, though. We’re assuming his people took off with those items.

Do you know what they were? Dagon asked.

No, but we’re tracking those who fled. We’ll catch up to them soon enough, especially with Conan leading the way, Aithen said of his older brother. Then he gave them a quick rundown of what we had discovered. An old shield imbued with magic to make the bearer invulnerable to all magical attacks. Two pendants granting the wearers the ability to control the elements around them for short periods. A sword that worked like the Soul Piercer dagger Arkon was armed with.

Each of the items had been carried by the first demons of the Underworld. Many of them we believed to be lost. Carridan, it seemed, had been collecting them, part of the reason he’d kept us in a daze so we wouldn’t realize what he was doing. The other items he’d stolen from various supernatural races. I had no doubt they’d be grateful to have them returned.

At the entrance to the dungeon, I steeled my nerves. The first time we’d stepped foot down there, the strong stomach I’d always thought I had failed me. I hadn’t been the only one sick or who had to turn around to leave until their anger could get under control.

Nearly every cell had been occupied, and the conditions were beyond deplorable.

But the cells had been emptied. My hopes that I’d find the witch alive had shattered. Her body was nowhere to be found either. Whatever Carridan had done with her, I’d never know. That was probably what drove me the maddest, the not knowing.

All that remained now was the stench of blood and death and despair. The crimson stains would never be washed clean. Nor would the memories of what the stones saw, what those prisoners of every race endured. He hadn’t merely been collecting magical items over the years, but beings, too.

Only one cell had my hackles rising once I finally managed to get my ass moving down the long stretch of stairs to the dungeon level. It was the cell we were taking Dagon and Calrod to now. Their grunts of disgust followed by a steady stream of cursing from Dagon reminded me all too well of my first time in this place. At least they avoided seeing the bodies and the prisoners in their tortured states. The main corridor was lined with cells. At the end, it branched off into two more tunnels that led to circular rooms, both lined with more cells. The room to the right had one more narrow passage that dumped into a large square room flanked by stone columns. In the center of the space etched into the floor was a circle. Within it were a raised platform and an altar carved from black and white marble inlaid with silver. Manacles were on the floor beside it. Beyond the altar, another cell resided, larger than the ones we’d already passed. This one had been wide open, the heavy metal door and bars contorted in a way that had to be caused by magic.

Who was in there? Calrod asked quietly, avoiding stepping inside the circle on his way to the cell.

We’re not sure. It was empty when we arrived. I joined him at the open cell door. It’s what was left behind that has us concerned. I nodded to the rear wall and waited.

Calrod’s growl was deafening. Dagon’s joined his once he’d approached. Burned into the back wall was the same twisted symbol I’d seen on the arms of the witches—their mates. What appeared to be a large U with smaller ones jutting around it. What I assumed were tree roots came out of the bottom.

What is this? Calrod demanded.

We don’t know, I said with regret. But I thought you should see it for yourselves.

The far wall wasn’t the only place the symbol appeared. Whoever had been in this cell had been surrounded by the same symbol. Everywhere I turned, I saw it burned into the stones, carved into their hard surfaces, or fashioned using what could only be blood.

We fear Carridan summoned some sort of power. It’s our belief he collected powerful beings to fuel his magic in here, just as he did the magic that kept us enslaved to his mind-control spell, Aithen said quietly. It’s possible he used whatever poor soul was kept in this cell to bring about this power, possess them perhaps.

And then it escaped? Dagon asked, his eyes flaring with demon light while they darted around the cell.

The prisoners said there was horrible screaming at the beginning of the year. I wasn’t able to stop my imagination from taking off with me, wondering what this being had gone through under Carridan’s watch. Guards came running. The air was so black and heavy they said it was like moving and breathing in sludge. Then, everything went quiet. Utterly quiet. After, an explosion followed, and a glowing, pale greyish-yellow being sprinted through the corridors. Carridan took off after it but it seems as if he wasn’t able to find whatever or whoever escaped.

That was nearly eight months ago. This being could be extremely powerful now. Could’ve been hurting innocents all this time, Calrod whispered, running his hands over one of the symbols written in blood on the walls. We need to find them.

Carridan burned this symbol into Morgan, Dagon said with a growl. What if it goes after her and the others? We have to warn Arkon and Cyrene. We should get them somewhere safe.

Calrod barked a laugh. You remember how well that worked last time? They won’t go into hiding.

Dagon rolled his eyes, muttering curses under his breath. Stubborn women.

If they haven’t been attacked by this creature yet, I said, there’s a chance they won’t be.

They’ve only been marked for a few days, Calrod reminded me. I’m not risking Cara’s life. There’s residual magic left here, I can feel it. We’ll use it to track whatever was held in this cell and stop it before it can carry out Carridan’s plans, whatever those might be. Our mates might not be the only ones he’s marked. It could’ve gone after the others first.

Dagon, Calrod, and Aithen continued to discuss the best way to find the escaped prisoner. I intended to listen, but a whispery breath brushed across my ear. I turned, expecting to see someone else here with us, but we were alone. The whisper came a second time, a familiarity to it that was like someone digging claws into my gut. I growled, reaching for the dagger at my back. That voice. I’d never forget that horrible voice and how long I’d spent listening to it tell me what to do. Keeping me trapped inside my own mind.

Carridan.

I waited for him to appear, but he didn’t. He was dead and burned.

Taz? Aithen asked. What is it?

Nothing. I released my grip on the dagger and turned to face them. We need someone with magic to create a tracking beacon.

Dagon and Calrod exchanged a look. Cyrene would be the best choice, Dagon said. You think she’s up for it?

We don’t have a choice. Arkon could do it, but it wouldn’t be as powerful. Morgan and Jasmine are still learning. And Cara’s magic would be more prone to destroying anything she attempted to enchant, he said with a twitch to his lips. I have a feeling Cyrene will want to find this being as bad as us, seeing as how she’s marked, too. We should head over there now. He gave the cell one last disgusted glance, then stomped out past me.

I was the last to follow, expecting Carridan to appear from the darkened recesses of the chamber. The ghost of his laughter drifted past my ears. I growled, drowning out the noise, and hurried after the others. Carridan was dead, and nothing was going to bring him back. I was my own demon again. Whatever was left was residual. It’d fade eventually.

Upon arrival at Cyrene’s home, I’d thought I’d walked into a shadow. The windows were covered, and the wall-hangings were all black. Every single painting was blocked from sight with more black veils. Cyrene, the witch I’d met at Arkon and Jasmine’s farmhouse, wasn’t wearing any bright violets or greens today. Her flowing skirt and bralette top were black. Even her hair had changed, as did her eyes.

When we’d arrived, we were greeted by Morgan and Cara first. They’d come outside to embrace Dagon and Calrod. Impatiently, I’d waited for them to get their hellos over with so we could speak to Cyrene. Cara had slipped her hand into Calrod’s and leaned into him as we’d followed them inside.

The ice-cold spike of jealousy stabbing me in the gut hadn’t faded yet.

I was happy for my cousins, but I’d never have what they had. All that was left in me now was a gaping hole filled with chilling bitterness and regret.

We princes, especially the older ones, should’ve seen Carridan’s betrayal coming. We all carried the same guilt, but ours was worse than Calrod’s and his brothers’ would ever be. They’d fought back. Whereas, we’d become sheep for Carridan to control at will. For fifteen years, my mind wasn’t my own. The numbness I’d endured morphed into a wave of piercing cold anger I needed to unleash on the enemy before it destroyed me from the inside out.

I should’ve stopped this, Cyrene said, breaking the tense silence that had fallen. We’d already explained to her why we were there, sitting around a table in the saloon. She, in turn, had informed us nothing she’d done yet removed the symbol burned onto her flesh. It only made the situation more desperate after she’d added she believed the marking was incomplete, which was why she was having trouble finding what it meant. Now, her lips twisted in a bitter smile, and she pushed back from the table. I never thought he’d make it this far.

What are you talking about? I asked, a bite to my words. You know what he was planning?

Cyrene gripped the back of her chair, her nails digging into the wood. I escaped Carridan’s clutches nearly seventy years ago, she whispered, and a hush fell over the room. A fae saved me, caused Carridan a bit of pain that day, too. He was just starting his collection back then, of the living and of enchanted items. Even then, the rest of the princes turned a blind eye. Carridan worked his magic on your lot for far longer than fifteen years.

Why was he collecting power? Calrod took hold of Cara’s hand, frowning.

I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to ask questions. Cyrene paled, then shook her head and stormed off behind the bar. What I do know is he’s trying to summon a being from beyond our world. But of what origin and what it is, I can’t say. Not yet.

Why? Morgan asked.

Who knows what that bastard wanted, Cyrene snapped. Not that it matters anymore. Now that he’s dead, his plan won’t be completed.

Unless his demons pick up where he left off. We don’t even know if he was working alone. The sacred items that came from other races, there’s no way he was able to get those without aid, I replied slowly. And whatever escaped that cell could be a threat.

Or someone in need of help, Morgan argued.

I grunted, but Morgan crossed her arms and stared me down. Forgive me for not giving a possible experiment by Carridan the benefit of the doubt. Whatever was down there used immense power to escape. We have no idea what we’re dealing with or what magic he was working. Until I find this creature and prove otherwise, I’m going to treat it as a menace. I stood up and went to the bar. Can you give me something to track the residual magic or not? I asked Cyrene.

Cyrene poured a shot of glowing, blue liquid and swallowed it down. Are you sure this is what you should be doing right now?

What else is there?

That anger inside you is going to fester if you don’t find a way to let it out, she warned. Just remember, the cold touch of winter doesn’t always bring destruction and death. She rested her hand on mine, adding in a whisper, I know what you’ve lost. As much as your heart and soul ache, you cannot give in to the darkness, not yet.

I growled, snatching my hand back.

She sighed and said she’d have something ready for me before we left. I exited the saloon, needing to get out of the depressing mood that had settled in the house. The night air was cool on my face. I hadn’t even realized I’d broken out in a sweat. I paced the gravel drive, the crickets and calls of distant coyotes piercing my ears and grating against my skin. My heart beat too fast, and I sank to my knees.

Carridan’s voice whispered through my mind, the words too quiet and muffled to make out. I smashed my palm to my forehead at the stabbing ache, growling for it all to stop. Carridan’s words became louder, drowning out the music of the night around me. I doubled over, snarling at the ground and repeating over and over that he was dead and burned. Gravel crunched, and my head shot up.

Did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily, Tazarek?

I drew my dagger, lunging for Carridan’s form, standing mere yards away, wearing one of his white linen suits. I passed right through him.

He clicked his tongue, and I whirled around. Death is never the end. Why does no one learn?

I slashed at him, but my dagger never struck flesh and bone. Carridan’s cackle resounded around me. His body shimmered for a moment, then vanished like it’d never been there at all. Clutching my dagger, I spun around, waiting for him to reappear.

Taz? Aithen called from the front