Demon's Daughter (Demon Outlaws) (6 page)

As did the amulet around his neck sputtering unexpectedly to life.

…

The woman who had been brought before Mamna for judgment today was especially lovely. For that alone Mamna would have condemned her to death.

But this woman had made condemning her particularly easy. She had arrived through the slave trade, destined for one of the remote mining areas, and was well aware of her worth on the market. She had spoken ill of the priestesses, and that was enough.

The amulet hidden beneath Mamna’s clothing throbbed. Only the Demon Lord knew she possessed it, and even he did not know the source of its strength. If he did, he would kill her.

“Clear the circle,” she commanded.

The guards stiffened, understanding what she intended to do a few beats ahead of the crowd, then hastened to do as directed.

Around the dais, a shallow trough had been carved from the baked desert earth and lined with tile to hold water. Four points had been marked inside the circular trough—north, south, east, and west. The dais sat to the east, the land of the goddesses, and represented their mountain. The center of the circle was the desert, the land claimed by the demons. Tied to a pole at the center stood the woman on trial, limp from both fear and the morning heat.

Buckets of water, collected from goddess rain and drawn from the temple’s cistern by the priestesses, were poured into the trough. The water would help contain the demon Mamna intended to summon with her amulet, but she would need to be quick before it evaporated in the dry heat.

The crowd had gained numbers, morbid curiosity drawing people out to see what would happen next. It had been several years since Mamna’s last public demon-raising. Then, the man on trial had been savaged and partially eaten before Mamna had called it off.

The woman remained stoic, defiant by her silence, although her face had lost its color. Mamna might have found it in her heart to pity her if she had not despised her so deeply. Demons could be gentle with the innocent, and Mamna had it on good authority that this one was not one of them. Traders, before bringing slaves through the desert, spoiled the women to avoid having them stolen away.

When the trough was full, the priestesses stepped back and blended as best they could with the crowd. No one could now cross the circle, not that anyone would willingly try.

Summoning a demon took more of her amulet’s power than she liked. The amulet, in turn, drew from Mamna. Sweat beaded her forehead, running down the sides of her face. Her shaved scalp itched under the cap she wore to protect it from the sun. Gradually, the sounds of the crowd and the condemned woman’s heavy breathing muted to a dull background noise.

She directed her thoughts through the amulet and into the boundary beyond the mortal world, then from there, into the desert territory the demons had claimed. Once inside their territory, she searched for a demon. When she found one, she called it to her.

Its vague, shadowy form appeared, then solidified. It crouched on the ground before the dais, its wings folded tight against massive shoulders. Thick red bone plate covered its body. The tips of the horns on its bent head grazed the hem of her gown, but when it straightened and stretched, its true size expanded to something formidable. The amulet grew hot against Mamna’s flesh in a spontaneous defensive response, and her skin seared beneath it. She ignored the pain.

The majority of the crowd withdrew several yards, widening the distance between them and the circle. A few brave souls who had seen demons raised before stood their ground, but looked ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

The demon blinked flaming eyes filled with hatred, then swept them over the crowd before turning its attention on her.

Confident in the control the amulet gave her, Mamna did not flinch. She had faced the Demon Lord more times than she could count. This demon paled in comparison.

Her bent fingers gripped the arms of her throne. “You stand on priestess ground. By his command, you will do as I say.”

Slyness entered its eyes. It rolled its head back and forth on its shoulders, examining the silent onlookers, then it slid a long, high-arched foot toward the circular trough filled with rainwater. Shrieks of terror rippled through the crowd, and the people closest to the circle trampled those behind them in a panicked stampede to escape.

Mamna watched the crowd with contempt. Then she recognized something was wrong. The amulet around her neck had lost its heat and the normally steady throbbing became erratic.

The demon’s head whipped around, sensing the sudden shift in dynamics inside the circle, and she chastised herself for her inattention. This was not the time to show either fear or a loss of control.

She gestured to the bound woman who trembled and made small, animal noises deep in her throat.

“This woman is accused of treason,” Mamna said to the demon, in a hurry to end matters she wished she had not begun. “Conspiracy against the leaders of Freetown is conspiracy against the immortals. She is yours to do with as you please. What will it be, Demon?”

It stared at Mamna. She stared back, unflinching. Slow seconds passed. Then it turned to examine the bound woman, choosing an easy reward over a confrontation it might not win. The woman had slumped forward in a faint.

“I will have her,” the demon decided, and the glint in its hot eyes said it would not be easy for her when it did.

Mamna released the demon, thankful that no one could see the fright now licking her insides as it vanished. The amulet regained its steady beat, although it did not seem as strong to her as before.

She addressed the guards. “Turn the traitor loose in the desert. Give her no food or water.”

If the heat or wild animals did not kill her first, then the demon would return for her. No mortal would dare go to her rescue now that she had been claimed by it.

Stone-faced guards untied the woman. As she revived, her low, panicked wails built to a crescendo of shrieks.

Mamna signaled for one of her priestess attendants to help her from the throne-like chair, which was far too big for her, but another formality she was unwilling to forsake. These were symbols of all she’d attained in the years since the goddesses had abandoned her.

Her legs, unsteady from a combination of age, deformity, and unease, wobbled as she passed through the heavy curtains covering an exit behind the dais. Pausing for a moment to hide from view within the folds of fabric, and ignoring the fading screams of the condemned, she drew the amulet from her dress and ran nervous fingers over its varnished surface.

Tiny fractures marred its previously smooth finish.

She tucked it away again, anxious now for complete privacy so she could examine the full extent of the damage, and thrust the curtain aside.

Mamna dismissed the hovering attendants with a wave of her hand. She would make this walk back to her city residence alone to prove she was unafraid.

As she stepped onto the weather-beaten, oil-soaked plank sidewalk, a tall, bone-thin old man dared to approach her.

“Excuse me,” he said, twisting his hat in his hands.

His clothes were of good quality, although they had seen better days. That meant he had to be from the north, a region once wealthy because of its gold mines. But now that the goddesses were gone, demons made it dangerous for anyone wanting to do business to travel there. Northerners rarely found their way to Freetown.

More and more had been cropping up of late, she had noticed. The discovery was disquieting.

This northerner wore a small, amber-colored amulet around his neck that she recognized as something the goddesses had once given out freely to favored companions. She had one herself. It gave no protection from demons but grew warm if an immortal lurked nearby, which explained how he had survived a trip through the desert.

A Godseeker as well as a northerner, then. He had that certain light in his eyes, and the presence of the goddesses clung to him. They had serviced the goddesses as little more than male whores, and believed that gave them the same privileges as priestesses. They dispensed justice in the mining regions and their assassins were the best in the world.

She hated them.

She waited for him to continue speaking, too cautious to simply dismiss him before she knew what he wanted from her.

He lowered his voice. “The goddesses are returning. We must gather an army for them.”

Godseekers believed the goddesses continued to favor them, even if from a distance, but this one had just witnessed Mamna summon a demon and condemn a woman to death. Why would he think she would welcome their return?

“The goddesses are long gone from the world,” she said. “You feel the lingering touch of their presence, nothing more.”

It was true. Once one had been touched by the goddesses, the goddesses could never be forgotten. She knew that far too well. And because this world had been touched by them, their presence would be felt here forever.

But the goddesses themselves were gone.

The light in the old man’s eyes brightened. “One goddess remains,” he insisted. “She will bring the others back. They will forgive you your dealings with demons if you join her army and fight for her. You will no longer be a slave to the Demon Lord.”

Mamna tapped her fingers against her thigh, alarmed by the Godseeker’s words. Sweat trickled down her back, and her sensitive skin itched under the rough hrosshair gown. She did not want him to be overheard or for such stories to spread. Had he not witnessed what happened to people who plotted against her?

“I am no slave to the Demon Lord. I command demons. They do not command me. The goddesses are gone,” she repeated, more sharply this time. “I witnessed their departure myself.”

He stepped closer, crowding her with his greater height and invading her personal space. Mamna did not care for it. It highlighted her deformity and challenged her authority. She scowled up at him, but he was so wrapped up in his message that he did not notice her displeasure.

“One remains on the mountain,” he insisted. “She challenges trespassers and collects alms for the temple.”

The noise from the market faded, overwhelmed by a roaring in Mamna’s ears.

“An old priestess and her bastard, thieving daughter live on the mountain.” Impatience frayed her temper, and her heart was now beating so rapidly she felt off-balance, as if all the blood in her twisted body had rushed to her head.

How had the spawn survived all these years in the crumbling temple of the goddesses, she wondered for the thousandth time since learning of the thief on the mountain. Worse, how could that silly old hag have kept it?

Desire might have had an advantage over the other priestesses in that she had not been born homely—she had become scarred later in life when her looks had not mattered so much to her—but she was still an old fool with a soft heart. She always would be.

Stubbornness set the Godseeker’s jaw. “She is a goddess, not a thief. She is the one who will lead the Demon Slayer against the demons. This is our chance to fight back, and to send them away. This world does not belong to them.”

Nor had it belonged to the goddesses, Mamna could have argued. An immortal was an immortal, regardless of any distinction. But the Godseeker’s beliefs, like those of all fanatics, would never change.

“Even if you are right, she is still only one goddess while the demons are many. If they could drive the other goddesses from the world, then this one can have no hope of standing against them alone.”

“She holds the will of all the goddesses,” he insisted. “They left her here to finish their war. She will lead the Slayer against the demons. Godseekers can raise an army to help her.”

Mamna was truly alarmed now. If the Demon Lord heard this talk of a goddess or her army and withdrew his protection, and the people of Freetown could no longer depend on Mamna for their safety, she would have nothing.

“If the goddesses had left one of their own behind, I would have known,” she said.

Suspicion backlit the zealousness in the old man’s eyes. “We thought you, of all people, would welcome this news.”

Welcome it? She had betrayed the goddesses to the Demon Lord. She had told him how he could drive them from the mountain, and given him the means to do so. She had carried the fire for him. She had fanned the flames. He was the reason she owned Freetown. She did not, under any circumstances, wish for the goddesses to return.

Neither did she wish for the Demon Lord to discover how she had gathered the soil from the earth where he and his goddess lover had lain together, and given it to the goddess’s sisters. When they fled the world she had kept the flaming rainbow amulet they had crafted, but it had been intended for use by a goddess, not a mortal. Now it was damaged, and only an immortal could repair and invoke it again.

But with the help of the amulet, a spawn might be encouraged to try.

Mamna had thought she would enjoy seeing the Demon Lord condemn his own daughter to death. She wanted the last reminders of the goddess he had once loved wiped from existence. But now she thought the spawn might prove more valuable to her alive. At least for a while.

Her unsteadiness eased.