Underworld
Junga paced the length of the cavern, her thick blue hide shimmering in the green glow of the chamber’s lichen. Water steadily dripped in one corner, with an increasingly annoying plop…plop…plop, and the whole place stank of decay and ancient dirt.
Far, far above was the underside of the ocean, an underside she was sick of seeing. The Fomorii should be in the sea, not beneath it.
The demon’s knuckles dragged the floor and she gnashed her needle-like teeth. To get out of this Balor-forsaken place was all she cared about anymore. Centuries of existing in the pits of the world while feeding on grubs and rodents extinct from mankind made her ill.
She missed everything about their lives before being banished to the depths of Underworld by the Tuatha D’Danann, the Elves, and the goddess Dana. Fomorii were meant to conquer other races, meant to rule. Once they had traveled easily between Otherworld and Earth, and overpowered race after race.
Junga sat back on her haunches as she remembered her favorite part. Sex as Shanai, human, or other races. With a mere touch they could shift into another being, killing that being instantly and taking over his or her body and mind until the Fomorii chose another body to consume.
They could change forms at will, but only into the most recent host body, or into their normal demon forms. The only beings they hadn’t been able to overcome were the Fae, including the D’Danann, Elves, and Mystwalkers.
She scowled at the other demons roaming the cavern. She had tired of sex with her own kind and she craved more, needed more—variety.
Her people were beautiful, of course, all in different shapes, sizes, forms, and colors. Some had several eyes, others took after the god Balor and only had one. A few demons had as many as nine limbs, and some merely had three. There were hundreds of her kind, all different, all unique.
They survived with other races banished to Underworld, but Junga considered those beasts—especially the Basilisks— evil. Junga and her legionmates were not evil. They simply lived life as they were meant to.
Some of her people had regular lovers while a very few had chosen lifemates, and yet others chose a different demon at every opportunity. Occasionally an infant was conceived, but in this damnable place it was a rare occurrence. The Fomorii needed freedom to expand, freedom to grow their race.
When it came to sex, the sensations with other Fomorii were not as pleasurable, nor as intense as with other races. Junga’s usual lovers over the course of countless centuries no longer held appeal. Neither Za’s brilliant green skin and slender multi-legged body, nor Bane’s hulking red form and his two penises attracted her. Nothing was enough anymore.
But soon they might have the opportunity to leave and conquer once again.
And the Basilisks would aid them.
Basilisks were beasts of the night. They often took the form of a common, though poisonous, snake, but when attacking their prey or enemy, they grew to their full and formidable height, twice that of a mere human, and as thick as three men.
The Basilisks’ scales were like armor, and they had few weaknesses. They looked like a giant snake, but with a fan of skin and bone crowning the back of their heads. And their fangs—the poison injected into their victims was so deadly that even the Fae were susceptible. Only the Fomorii had resistance to the venom.
The Basilisks had been caught up in the same spell that banished the Fomorii to Underworld. For centuries the two races had fought one another, but had eventually come to a truce—with the promise that the Fomorii would find a way out of Underworld and a way to seek revenge against the D’Danann.
Revenge against the D’Danann. Yes, they would have that.
“Junga!” came the queen’s snarl.
Junga whirled toward Queen Kanji and lowered her head in a submissive posture even though she wanted to claw out the queen’s heart and feed her carcass to the rest of the demons. From the top of her eyes she saw the white-skinned queen limping toward her, claws digging into rocks and dirt.
If not for her father, Kae, Junga would not be groveling in front of this white bitch. Her father had served Balor as his right hand, positioned to become King of the Fomorii once they defeated the Tuatha D’Danann.
But no. Kae had let down his guard. Had allowed the Sun God, Lugh, to put out Balor’s great eye. If not for her father’s stupidity, for letting the bloodline down when he underestimated the D’Danann all those centuries ago, Junga would be queen and ruler over all Fomorii.
Instead she’d had to fight and scrabble to reach her position of legion leader, despite being next in line if the queen died. And to do it, Junga had never let a male or female dominate her, save for the queen.
When she reached Junga, the queen growled, “Balor spoke to Old One. The human Balorites have begun the summoning.” Junga raised her head as the queen continued, “Take your best warriors and two Basilisks to the Temple of Balor and prepare.”
“Yes, my Queen,” Junga said, trying to keep excitement from her voice. A new species to dominate, to possess, to dine upon—the children of Earth, who populated the world after all gods and goddesses had left to Otherworld or Underworld.
This was Junga’s opportunity to prove to all the Fomorii that she should rule, not this bitch. Junga would take control and slowly her people would overrun the world from which they were wrongfully banished.
“We haven’t much time.” The queen came closer to Junga. “The Old One has been informed by Balor that the D’Danann warned one of the D’Anu—a gray witch named Silver Ashcroft.”
Junga gave a low growl. “How dare the bastards interfere? What of their creed of neutral alliance?”
The queen snorted. “One rogue D’Danann is not likely to convince an entire legion of his people. They will realize it is the Fomorii’s day to rule again.”
“And if they don’t,” Junga said, her skin heated with fury, “this time we will win the war.”
“We have something that will ensure our victory.” Kanji’s voice was almost a seductive purr.
Junga couldn’t help but be intrigued. Her mind filled with visions of two ways to slay the arrogant D’Danann—tearing out their rotten hearts and slicing off their useless heads. The bastards were near to invulnerable otherwise.
Yesssss.
Blood.
Blood and triumph.
“How will we defeat them once and for all?” Junga’s fangs gnashed in blind excitement. “Tell me, my Queen.”
Kanji quivered in apparent delight, then flared her talons and stared at the tips. “Magic.” Her snarl was one of bloodlust and vengeance. “Not enough for all of your best warriors— but half, at least. And even a few Fomorii with this enhancement ... the Old One has Seen our coming glory.”
Kanji rose and her claws clicked against stone as she came close enough to Junga that their snouts nearly touched.
“You dare not fail to set up a suitable residence and summon me within one Earth week’s time.” The queen’s glare would have slain a lesser demon. “Or I will ensure you are eliminated when I do arrive.”
“Of course, my queen.” Junga seethed with hot fury and hoped the bitch would depart.
Kanji gave an intimidating growl. “Hurry to the temple where you will be readied for the Balorite summoning.”
Junga bowed her head and shoulders. “Yes, my queen.”
Once the queen had returned to her lair, Junga moved. With more hope than she’d had in centuries, she loped toward the Temple of Balor.