Daphne reappeared on her doorstep, noticing the lights on. She knew well that James would be out tonight. Only one person could be here. She opened the door, checking for the intruder.
“You have finally arrived.”
Rothvaln got up from the sofa, closing the book The Sign of the Four that her brother had left. He got up and stopped in his tracks to admire the beauty of the woman in front of him. Rothvaln didn’t want to admit it out loud, but Daphne had become the object of his darkest desire in the last hundred years.
Feeling nervous at his gaze, she cleared her throat. “I have given your message.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. As soon as I introduced myself, King Lycan was furious. I gave my message, and they basically asked me to leave the event.” Daphne walked to her kitchen. Feeling her throat dry, she poured warm water into a glass. Not being the only reason she needed to get away from him. His presence overwhelmed her.
Rothvaln did not follow her; he just stayed in the same place, waiting for her to return. When she did, he couldn’t help but be in awe of her body again.
“You look beautiful in that dress, Daphne.”
“Thank you. Your good taste never ceases to amaze me.” She said honestly, looking up at her gown. She really felt beautiful in it. Almost like a princess, except that she was farther away from it than ever.
Rothvaln came closer. His hand grasped her waist gently. He took a lock of wavy hair with the other palm, hiding it behind her ear. Daphne did not take her eyes off him. She could sense his desire, but why couldn’t she answer him with the same fire? And it wasn’t that he lacked attributes. On the contrary, Rothvaln was a good-looking man with a deep voice that could make even the most stupid of words erotic.
His face continued to approach hers. Each felt the warm breath of the other. He couldn’t help but feel excited about the impending action. And she? She just stood there, waiting, anxious for that kiss he had wanted so much but scared her. Why couldn’t she be like the other demonesses? And give herself freely to the King of Demons?
Those demonic lips never touched the mainland. Rothvaln turned away, scrutinizing her, looking for some emotion in her eyes. With a long sigh, he said, “You must return to the Realm of the Witches.”
“Tomorrow. Lars Barlow.” Rothvaln disappeared after saying the name of her next task. Again she had to go to that dreadful place.
Daphne got rid of her dress and shoes, slipping into her bed, waiting for sleep to come. James would be back in about three hours. Her brother was no stranger to the whirlwind of emotions that moved inside her. At first, James reproached her and implored Daphne to undo the deal. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his sister sacrificing her life for him. The years passed, and James could only stay as an observer. There was nothing he could do.
He usually spent some of his nights with Bianca, a half-fae half-human, and Gordon, a half-werewolf half-human fellow. All three were like the Dumas’ Musketeers. They were his only friends, the three of them traveling often. And particularly today, they had arranged to meet in one of the pubs outside the territory.
Daphne opened her eyes slowly, the weak rays of the sun gradually began to warm the surface of the earth. Her first instinct was to make sure that her brother had returned.
She went to his bedroom, knocking three times, but there was no answer. She called his name, and yet there was only silence. Instinctively Daphne opened the door carefully, thinking that he was just sound asleep. But she only found an empty bed, with no sign that anyone had slept in it. Throwing away all thoughts that made her worry about him and believing that maybe he slept over at one of his friends’ house, she started her day. Leaving everything ready before leaving again.
She possessed the power to transport herself between Realms and even an inhuman force. These were one of Rothvaln’s gifts when she accepted her new life. Not all creatures from the Realms could travel between worlds. Only the strongest, the highest-ranking of their kind, and the most gifted in general were able to do so. And she had none of these qualities. Her abilities had been bestowed for a specific purpose: to kill.
It was past five o’clock in the afternoon, and James still hadn’t returned. Daphne completed her dressing, finishing with her green cloak. She disappeared once again from the only place she felt was the safest of all.
Once again, in the land of witches and warlocks, the iron medallion began to light up. A red light was shining around the object. Guiding her to Lars Barlow. Luckily there was no sign of rain tonight. As she walked through the same village in “No One’s Place,” the faces of the men, shadowed and suspicious, looked at her as she continued to search for her prey. Some windows closed suddenly, drawing her attention. The few that abounded at the site began to disperse, disappearing from the main muddy road. There was no breeze, only the stench of rotten food and dirt.
She turned to the right, the medallion being the compass that led her stopped, completing its purpose. A stone house stood before her. It was not as large as a high-ranking one, but it was wide enough and apparently comfortable for someone who lived in this place.
There is something strange about it, Daphne thought for a moment. The house was utterly shut down. Lars Barlow should have been here.
Could he be the one waiting for her? Daphne felt strange for a moment, doubtful whether to go in or not. As trained and fierce as she was, she still had that human part in her, where the survival instinct and fear still dwelt deep inside her.
She sighed and finally approached the closed door and, with all the strength of her right leg, flung it open. Darkness was what she saw. Even though she was at the entrance, thinking what was wrong? She sensed something. Something that was not right at all.
A moaning alarmed her senses. It sounded like someone was trying to talk but couldn’t. Daphne frowned. Someone was inside, needing help, or it was a trap to attract the benevolent ones’ attention.
A warm light suddenly shone inside the house, and Daphne’s eyes widened. She was shocked to see James tied to a chair, with his lips sealed, unable to utter a word, and only moaning. Looking at her and shaking with fear, alerting her somehow to stop coming in. But she could not help herself.
She entered with caution. The door closed instantly, and she didn’t even flinch. Her face looked colder and crueler than ever.
Lars Barlow would pay dearly for this.
“So you are Rothvaln’s whore” said a hoarse voice emerging from a corner. Lars Barlow approached her without any concern. His gray eyes and dirty blond hair gave him a twenty-year-old look. He was not that tall, and he was relatively thin.
“You’ve made a big mistake, Lars Barlow.” Daphne looked at him with the eyes of a murderer.
“Me? No, no, no, I just did what I was asked to do.”
He said, backing away on instinct.
Lars’ eyes went from looking at her to something behind her back. Daphne knew at that moment that they were not alone. Turning around, her eyes met Maret’s and four other demons.
The five Demon Lords stood before her, staring at her with the same disdain as always. This time, Daphne was aware that no one would come to save her and her brother.