Chapter 17 – Fallen and Found

Twisted Games

Liam’s POV

The thought of Kate making a deal with me was a tantalizing prospect, a delicious game of cat and mouse. I could practically see the shock and outrage on the demon hunters’ faces when they discovered their precious saint had turned to the enemy for help. The irony was a sweet, sweet nectar, and I couldn’t help but grin like a wolf with a bone. Ah, the exquisite taste of revenge.

But this was merely the first act. I knew she’d be back, her insatiable curiosity and thirst for power drawing her closer to me like a moth to a flame. And when she returned, I would be waiting, ready to offer her the knowledge she craved – for a price. A night of revelry with me and the Iele, a tantalizing taste of forbidden power. The image of her bathed in the ethereal glow of their realm, her eyes wide with a mix of wonder and trepidation, sent a thrill through me.

I severed the magical connection, a self-satisfied smirk playing on my lips. She’d swallowed the bait whole, and now it was time for me to set the stage for our next encounter. After all, a good performance required careful preparation.

With a dramatic flourish, I summoned a gateway to the Iele’s realm. The air warped and shimmered, a portal of swirling light materializing before me. I stepped through, savoring the familiar rush of energy, a potent mix of magic and possibility. The Iele had always been partial to me, drawn to my mischievous nature and insatiable curiosity. Their realm was a vibrant playground of enchantment, a stark contrast to the drab world of humans. Here, the air crackled with power, every breath a potent elixir.

Following the magical currents like a trail of breadcrumbs, I arrived at the forest Kate had described. The air hung heavy with the stench of demons, a repugnant aroma that clung to the back of my throat. A grim smile twisted my lips. It seemed even paradise had its own brand of pollution.

The former demon hunter safe-house was just ahead, a scar on the landscape, a monument to their failure. I traced the path of destruction, a gruesome tapestry of trampled underbrush and scorched trees. The cabin itself was a pathetic sight, battered and broken, like a discarded toy.

Inside, the scene was one of disarray. Torn documents, scattered books, and overturned furniture painted a picture of panicked retreat. I chuckled, imagining the demon hunter fleeing with his tail between his legs. It was almost too easy.

My footsteps echoed in the silence as I descended into the cellar, drawn by the faint traces of Kate’s saintly energy. The door was still intact, its wards stubbornly holding strong. I ran my fingers over the intricate runes, a flicker of admiration in my eyes. Whoever had designed these wards possessed undeniable skill.

The cellar itself was cramped and claustrophobic, a stark contrast to the grandeur of my own dwelling. A mischievous thought crossed my mind, imagining Kate and her demon hunter companion holed up here. If it had been me, I mused, the night would have been far less about survival and far more about… other pursuits.

As I stepped back into the sunlight in front of the cabin, I turned my attention back to the wards, inspecting the remains of the protective barriers around the property. The barrier as a whole had been skillfully crafted, a masterpiece of magic just like their current safe haven. But the individual wards themselves told a different story. They were tampered with, their intricate patterns marred by subtle signs of sabotage. The runes, normally smooth and unbroken, bore the marks of precise cuts, weakening their power.

The scent of burned herbs and scorched earth lingered in the air, a silent accusation. Someone had intentionally compromised the wards, ensuring their failure when the demons attacked. It was a clever tactic, a masterstroke of deception. I had to hand it to them, it was a brilliant plan.

Reaching out, I tentatively touched the residual magic, a jolt of pain shooting through my fingers. “Well, that’s rude,” I muttered, shaking my hand. Clearly, whoever had done this wasn’t messing around. They possessed a deep understanding of magic, a level of skill that both intrigued and infuriated me.

I studied the disrupted runes, their patterns like a cryptic message scrawled in blood. The alterations were subtle, expertly woven into the original enchantments. The saboteur had been meticulous, ensuring the wards would hold just long enough to lull the occupants into a false sense of security before shattering their defenses. It was a clever, albeit sinister, ploy.

The implications were clear: someone within the organization, or someone with intimate knowledge of their defenses, had betrayed them. A cold anger surged through me, a desire for vengeance that rivaled my curiosity. Who was this mysterious player, and what were their motives?

I could see it clearly now. The runes had been carefully, almost surgically, altered. The usually smooth lines of power were interrupted by tiny incisions, invisible to the untrained eye but glaringly obvious to someone like me. The modifications were meant to weaken the barrier just enough to fail under pressure but not enough to be detected beforehand. Whoever had done this knew their craft well, understanding exactly how to create a controlled collapse.

As I examined the intricate sabotage, a dark realization settled over me. This wasn’t the work of an ordinary demon. Demons were brutish, their magic forceful and blunt. This required finesse, precision, and a deep understanding of the magical architecture used by the demon hunters. This was the work of a human, a traitor within their own ranks or someone intimately familiar with their methods.

I could feel the residual energy of the tampered wards pricking at my skin, a lingering echo of the potent magic that once guarded this place. It was a testament to the skill of the saboteur that even in its weakened state, the barrier still held enough power to cause discomfort. The fact that a human could craft such a precise disruption spoke volumes about their knowledge and intent.

A deeper, darker part of me reveled in the thought of revenge. I didn’t particularly care about the internal politics and potential infighting among the demon hunters. Let them tear each other apart for all I cared. But the idea that Kate could have been hurt in that attack? That made my blood boil with a dark, possessive rage. My prey, my captivating saint, had been put in harm’s way because of this betrayal. The very thought of it sent a shiver down my spine, a twisted thrill coursing through me.

Oh, they had no idea the kind of enemy they’d made. They thought they were playing a game of shadows and whispers, but they’d underestimated the depths of my power, my reach. I would find them, and when I did, they would regret the day they crossed my path.

I relished the thought of their downfall, of making them pay for daring to endanger Kate. The hunt was on, and I was ready to unleash hell on anyone who had a hand in this. Kate was mine to protect, mine to claim, and anyone who threatened that would face my wrath. I would savor every moment of their suffering, every agonizing plea for mercy. It would be a symphony of pain, conducted by yours truly.

As the forest closed in around me, the shadows deepening with the setting sun, I felt a predatory grin spread across my face. The game was afoot, and I was more than ready to play. With Kate at the center of this deadly dance, I would stop at nothing to ensure she remained in my grasp, safe from those who sought to harm her. And I would make damn sure that whoever tampered with those wards learned the true meaning of fear. Their screams would echo through the ages, a testament to my unwavering devotion to my saint… and a chilling warning to anyone else who dared to cross me.