Labyrinth of Stars(6)

Grant’s world had been the first world, the only world, where humans had ever existed. Same world on which humanity lost its freedom, to become the slaves and playthings for the Aetar—who then proceeded to seed countless worlds, including earth, with human DNA.

We weren’t alone in the universe. Not by a long shot. We were the stuff that Aetar dreams were made of. The giants dead around us had been grown from the same genetic material. Countless other creatures in the universe could claim a similar ancestry, even if they didn’t know it. Only demons weren’t related. Something else had made them, even if it was just nature and an accident.

Grant said, in a strained voice, “So. They want me alive.”

“Alive, harmless, so you cannot kill them. Last of the free Lightbringers,” Mary said, running her thumb over the tip of her machete. “New flesh to play with.”

My husband glanced at me and my stomach. No, he wasn’t the last. Our daughter would have his gift. But that just made the Aetar even more dangerous.

“How did you know marijuana would be the antidote?” I asked Mary.

A strange expression passed over her face, oddly guarded. I’d seen her fierce, delighted, crazed—but never secretive.

“Recognized it,” she muttered, as if she was confessing something terrible. “Same plant was on our world.”

I frowned, sharing a quick look with Grant.

No chance to ask. Dek chirped at me, and I turned to see the demon lord of the Mahati clan striding toward us, his hands bloodied but with a glint in his eye that was quietly, deeply, satisfied.

“Young Queen,” said Lord Ha’an in a soft voice; giving Zee a nod, as well. Raw and Aaz were prowling around the dead giants, poking them with their baseball bats.

“Hey,” I said, craning my neck to look at him. He was so tall, his people had been forced to cut the low-lying branches of the trees so that he wouldn’t keep knocking his head. Ropes of silver hair fell into long, knotted braids, braids woven into silver chains of chiming hooks tied like armor around his bull-like broad chest—also the color of silver. His fingers were as long as pitchfork tines, longer than my forearm. Just as sharp.

The polite reverence in the demon lord’s expression faded as soon as he looked at Grant. It wasn’t with hostility, but uncertainty—the kind reserved for those freaky unknowns: like my husband, who looked harmless but could kill Ha’an and his people with nothing but the sound of his voice.

I could kill him just as easily, but I was more demon than human. Funny, how that could put some folks at ease.

“Lord . . . Cooperon,” Ha’an greeted Grant, awkwardly. “I smell human blood. You are wounded?”

“Nothing serious,” he said.

A frown touched the demon lord’s mouth. “Show me where you are hurt.”

Grant hesitated, then bent to pull up the ankle of his jeans. I did it for him. The darts had pierced his bad leg, and leaning on his cane made it awkward to reach down.

Lord Ha’an crouched, licking his long fingers clean of blood. I hoped he wasn’t going to touch Grant, but he did, using his knuckles to gently press the skin around the three holes in my husband’s calf. No fresh blood oozed out, but he’d lost enough. Zee sniffed the wound.

“Should I be worried about something else?” Grant asked.

“I do not know,” replied Lord Ha’an, rising gracefully to his full height. “As one who holds the bonds of the Shurik and Yorana, you should be healing faster. But you are also human. I cannot know if that affects the bond you have with your . . . clans.”

“The bonds are hurting him,” I remarked, before Grant could say again that he was fine. I ignored the irritated look he gave me.

Lord Ha’an’s frown deepened, but instead of pushing deeper, he said, “I do not recognize these creatures though I smell the Aetar in their flesh. Are we at war with them again, young Queen?”

War. What a word. I wasn’t even sure I knew what it meant except that it would bring more death and fear, and uncertainty. Then again, if it was fight or die . . . fight, or lose my family . . .

“If it can’t be avoided,” I told him, “then yes.”

“War is coming,” rasped Zee, dragging his claws along his arms, striking sparks that floated against my skin. “Blood for blood.”

“Can you track who made these creatures?” I asked him. “Do you know where they’re from?”

“Track, yes,” he rasped, but wariness entered his gaze. “But follow back? Unwise, maybe.”

It was stupid, that’s what it was. I just didn’t know if I’d have a choice.