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MITA shivered in the dark. She’d wandered well out of sight of the Manor. Salty sea air drifted on the midnight breeze. Why had she come out here? Was this all a mistake?
She crouched in the short grass and tugged at the frayed weeds. No. This wasn’t a mistake. When she’d told her master of Gabriel’s unforgivable act, what did the Hallowed elder do? Did he show a shred of emotion? Did he promise to have a discussion with the Queen? No. He told her that she was lucky he didn’t strike her too for insulting the Princess!
Mita grasped a full fist of weeds and tore them from the ground.
This was why she’d finally given in to the visions from her nightmares. Night after night, she’d been visited by a dark force. She hadn’t told anyone, but knew it was no dream. She’d read enough accounts of demon influence to realize that a demon had been reaching out to her. Being Hallowed, she was warned of the potential hazard early in her training. Unlike other Windborn, her soul was already one foot in the Celestial realm. The demon could reach her, only if she lowered her guard. Her guard had steadily faltered every day that Azrael was in her life. But when Gabriel struck her, the wall she’d tentatively kept between the demon and herself had crumbled.
He had only one request: Meet me at the apex of the moon near the sea. He felt her frustration. He said he knew her desperation. And now, he was the only one who could do anything about it.
The grass at her feet iced over as a foul presence shadowed the ground. Mita opened her hand and let the weeds and dirt fall into the darkness.
“You came.” Its voice was deep and handsome. Not at all what she’d expected.
Mita looked up and saw a dark silhouette. The moon was only half full and hardly illuminated the form. She wrinkled her nose as a sharp and sour scent hit her nostrils.
“You stink,” she said. “Seriously, why do you smell?”
The dark form laughed. “My apologies. I had to trudge through the sulfur deposits of the western border of Mhakdar.”
Mita frowned. A gust of hot wind whipped her short hair against her face. “Why come all this way?”
The shadow laughed again. This time he whispered an ancient word that Mita couldn’t recognize. It parted the shadow and for the first time she was face-to-face with the creature of her nightmares. He stood tall, not unlike any other man. Aside from the two metallic horns protruding from his head, his sharp features and friendly smile could only be described as attractive.
“You’re him,” she said with a shocked gasp.
“Yes, Mita. I’ve come for you.”
She crouched and put her palms flat on the crisp grass. Should she run? No. He wouldn’t have come all this way and risk his own hide just to kill her. She had something he wanted. This was not a threat... This was a negotiation.
“I want wings,” Mita said, shoving her fear down into the pit of her stomach and taking the upper hand of the negotiation. With wings, the Queen would believe she’d Turned even without undergoing the Acceptance. She’d inherit Celestia itself and no longer be subject to her master’s dull expectations.
The demon flashed a smile that boasted perfectly white and aligned teeth. “Of course you do. Your Hallowed master wants you to have a life of slavery and needles, am I correct? Your Queen wishes your servitude and loyalty, no? And what of the dashing angel ambassador... What’s his name again...”
Mita narrowed her eyes. “Gabriel.”
The grin on the demon’s face faded. The air grew unnaturally cold. “That explains why so few of my raid parties have returned.”
Mita stood straight and crossed her arms. “Stop wasting my time. I want wings.”
The demon sighed and began to pace in a long circle around her. As he moved, the black smoke of his magic thinned, straining to cling to him and swirled like living clothing. He wore tight black trousers, or what looked like trousers, and no shirt.
“You’re thinking too small. You only want wings because it’s all you know to want. What of power? What of respect? Don’t you want those?”
Mita shifted her weight onto her left hip as she pondered his words. “Wings would give me that.”
The demon clicked his pronged tongue. It slithered out at the action and sent goosebumps rippling down Mita’s flesh.
“Wings would give you reverence. You won’t be respected, not the way you could be.” He offered a warm smile, but all Mita saw was a predator eyeing his prey. Involuntarily she shrunk away.
“See? You respect me. I don’t have wings. You respect me because you fear me.”
Mita straightened, putting on a brave face. “No, I don’t.”
He grinned. “I can offer you all the magic of my clan in Mhakdar. I can give you a new body with powers that will bring respect like you’ve never seen.”
Mita ignored the impulse to retreat as he took another step closer. The chill of the air bit her skin, and she found a growing fascination of him was clawing its way over her fear.
“If you help me, I will help you,” he offered, reaching out his hand. It wasn’t clawed or dripping with blood. Even though he’d traveled through the dark lands of Mhakdar, his fingers were immaculately clean.
Mita swallowed and took a step toward him. He awarded her with a broad smile. The pull toward him was undeniable.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Simply your help.” They were within arm’s reach now. His long fingers were still extended. Close to his body the air shifted from ice cold to warm. Mita stepped within the invisible sphere and sighed with relief. It was safe here, her mind assured her. Could she trust herself?
The demon wrapped his hands around her thin shoulders. His hands were soft and warm. “You don’t trust me. Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I don’t keep my word.”
Mita looked up at him. His dark eyes contained an eternity of hope and desire. She felt lost in them. How could such a beautiful creature ever lie?
“I suppose so,” Mita admitted.
The demon released her and reached out his hand once again. The mists engulfed it before withering out of existence, revealing an oblong object that glinted in the moonlight.
“Take this into Azrael’s room, tonight. Do so and I will become your ally.” He brought the object close to her face and Mita cupped her hands and took it with great care. It thrummed with life at her touch. It whispered a thousand dark languages and sensed her desire to eliminate Azrael just as much as its demon-master wished it. In this, they were allies.
“Yes. You feel it, don’t you? You aren’t meant to be with them. You were always meant for us.”
Mita looked up at him, now fully his. “Why wasn’t I born into your clan? Why was I Windborn?”
The demon smiled down at her and stroked the hair from her face. “Sweet child. We were all Windborn...once.”