Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)

The inn they sat in was crowded and rowdy, heat from many bodies keeping the place warm enough that the fire hadn’t needed lighting. Elda was squashed at a small wooden table between Sypher and Gira, an untouched goblet of wine sitting in front of her.

Sypher hadn’t been lying when he said the women ran the town. The owner of the inn was the tusked woman Elda had seen earlier, and she freely admitted she was a worker at the brothel in her spare time. She handled the male patrons with an expert hand, even tossing one outside by his collar when he drank too much.

“Most people live and die miserably,” she’d grinned. “I get to live and die doing what I enjoy.” She’d earned a raucous cheer from the other men and women, who all seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

“The philosophy in this village is very different to Valdren,” Gira noted. “At home these women would be shunned as harlets. Here they have status because they sell themselves.”

“Only if they want to. They have more freedom here than anywhere else on Valerus. The men are the ones on the back foot,” Sypher replied, taking a sip of his ale and wrinkling his nose. "Vakti, that’s vile,” he grimaced. The foreign curse slipped from his lips like it was second nature.

“What does that mean?” Elda asked curiously. He cocked his head.

“The closest translation in the common tongue would be shit, I suppose.” He took in her expression and shook his head. “I’m not teaching you curses in my language. Don’t even ask.”

“You’re no fun,” she pouted. Sypher’s eyes flickered to the right where a Shifter was looking at Elda’s protruding lower lip like he wanted to bite it. The Soul Forge bared his teeth threateningly, dropping a hand down on her thigh and squeezing, leaving it there even when the Shifter averted his gaze.

“It feels like the whole village is in here drinking,” Julian mused, looking around the packed room.

“They are,” Gira answered. “Spirits help them if the demons in the soil get over the wall.”

“This place has been a fortress for years. I doubt that’ll change tonight,” the Vampire snorted.

“It might,” Sypher shrugged. “Demons are drawn to me.”

“Do you think they’ll get over the wall?”

“They’re certainly trying.”

“How do you know?” she frowned.

“One of the horrible things about being the Soul Forge is being able to sense any demon within a certain distance of me. The bigger the demon or the larger the swarm, the further away I can be and still feel it.”

“You want to go out on watch,” Julian noted, recognising the look on the Soul Forge’s face.

“I do. I can’t take Elda out there with me until she’s had more experience fighting.”

“I can handle myself,” she protested.

“Not tonight you can’t.” His hand tightened on her thigh. “I have to go outside without you. Please listen to me.” Her brows knitted together but she nodded. “Do not let anyone touch you. As far as they’re concerned, you’re mine and I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you. Play on that.”

“You say that like it isn’t true,” Julian quipped.

“I will hit you again,” the Soul Forge warned.

“Relax, jeez. He’s right though, pipsqueak. You don’t have enough experience to go into a fight with a bunch of demons blind. You should stay here.”

“She’s going to stay here with you.”

“I’m not coming either?” Julian looked disappointed.

“I don’t want Elda alone in this village, not even for a second. Gira and I can handle the demons.” The Vampire nodded, scooting to the side to let Sypher and Gira up from the table. He took the vacated seat beside her with a sigh. They sat in tense silence for several minutes, waiting to see if they could hear or see signs of fighting above the noisy patrons. Elda gave up trying when two of the villagers got angry at each other and started swinging punches.

“Uh oh. This could escalate,” Julian commented. Right on cue, the owner of the inn hefted a sturdy wooden chair above her head and hurled it, intending to hit the brawlers but using too much force. Julian shoved Elda off of her chair and onto the ground, the tossed furniture smashing against the wall where her head had been a second before.

The inn erupted into chaos, punches flying and feet stamping everywhere. She heard Julian call her name, but she couldn’t see him. The press of bodies swelled, hemming her in when she tried to get to her feet. She was in danger of being trampled to death, heavy boots stepping close enough to her head to make her pulse pound.

A hand closed around her arm and she was swallowed by darkness, stepping out of it into cool night air a moment later. She was no longer laid on the sticky inn floor and the sound of brawling was dull. She was still in the village but she wasn’t sure where. She turned to thank Julian for saving her and was met with piercing blue eyes.

“You’re not Julian,” she blurted. The Vampire cocked his head, long chestnut-coloured hair cascading over his shoulder in shiny waves.

“My name is Malphas.” He bowed, his mane of hair briefly hiding the sharp features of his face. “You’re welcome for the nick of time rescue.”

“I should be getting back to my group,” she began, turning away to find him in front of her again. He smiled and she immediately thought of a snake about to strike. She reached back to tap the gem on her Soul Blade where it hung from her shoulder, discreetly releasing the dagger.

“But I was enjoying your company,” Malphas pouted, his eyes on the pulse at her throat. “And it’s only fair of you to give me a little something in return for your life. Donors are hard to come by and I’ve done you a favour tonight.”

“You’re not biting me.”

“Have you ever been bitten by a Vampire?”

“No, and I’d rather not start now.”

“Then you don’t know how it feels.” Shadows swallowed him, depositing him silently behind her. He grabbed her wrist before she could defend herself, twisting it so the dagger landed in the dirt. His other hand gripped her braid hard enough to sting. “It only hurts for a second and then I’m told it’s euphoric.” His nose skimmed her throat. “You smell divine. I promise I’ll only take a little.”

There was no time to scream. His grip on her wrist was too firm to swing at him and his teeth pierced her throat in a burst of white hot pain before she could raise her leg to stomp his foot. Right behind the pain came an intense tingling, the kind that made her breath quicken and her pulse race. Her knees weakened, heat blossoming in her chest. Her whole body fell back into his arms like a rag doll. He could drain her completely and she’d happily let him. An involuntary moan escaped her lips as he took another long pull, drawing her blood at his leisure. Dizziness started to make her vision swim and darken.

A deep, bone-shuddering growl echoed through the night and Elda saw the blurred outline of dark wings descending towards them. Malphas was ripped from her, his teeth replaced by a warm hand keeping her life inside where it belonged. A sharp snap punctured the air. Sypher tossed his body aside like it was weightless, his eyes blacker than the sky above him when he rounded on Gira.

“Vel, calm down,” the Shifter pleaded warily, keeping his palm pressed to her wound despite the murderous glare he received. “She’s safe.”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let go of her, Keeper.” The demon soul. He was out. Elda knew she should be alarmed by that, but she wasn’t lucid enough to be frightened. The heat still burned in her chest, her skin tingling. The sensation of being passed from one person to another was odd. Her surroundings continued to shift, nausea beginning to take over when the person holding her settled her in their lap on the ground.

“Just keep your hand on the wound,” Gira grumbled.

“Varro, look at me.” The voice, half-hiss, half-silk, sent a shiver through her. She struggled to focus, finding the bottomless eyes the voice belonged to. Dark veins spidered across pale white skin. “Stay awake.” His teeth were sharpened but she wasn’t sober enough to be afraid of him. She reached up and touched his cheek.

“Your name is Vel?” she whispered in wonder. “I didn’t know you had another name.”

“And I didn’t know you couldn’t be left without me for five minutes.” Talking to the demon soul so candidly was surreal. He took one of his black gloves off with his teeth and laid his bare hand over her bleeding neck, his magic sweeping through her in a cool wave that should have shocked her out of her stupor, but didn’t.

“Don’t fix me,” she frowned.

“There’s a hole in your neck, vildeh.”

“What does that word mean?” He arched an eyebrow, looking down at her where she lay across his lap.

“Moron.”

“I prefer varro.”

“Maybe I’ll call you that again when you’re not dying.” His magic was still swirling through her, working hard to replace her lost blood and knit the wound closed. A similar wound appeared on his throat, though his didn’t pump blood in a steady stream like hers had.

“Why do I still feel fuzzy?” she asked when he finished fixing her. “My chest feels all warm.”

“That’s the thrall,” Gira supplied. Vel narrowed his eyes, daring the Shifter to get closer. “You’ll feel fuzzy for a while.”

“Holy shit,” Julian exclaimed, jogging over to them. He was bleeding from a head wound. He moved to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, recoiling when a vicious snarl made him aware of Vel’s presence. “Oh. You,” he scowled.

“Me.”

“Why aren’t you killing things?”

“Nothing left to kill.”

Julian studied the body of Malphas. “Damn, demon. Couldn’t you have reasoned with him instead of murdering him? Vampires are endangered.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t feel like being reasonable.” The demon stood, lifting Elda with him. “You’re stuck with me until the thrall lifts. Stay out of my way.” Vel strode away, the heavy hood coalescing around his head to hide his black eyes. He carried Elda through the inn, kicking the still-brawling patrons out of the way to get to the stairs.

“You should try being nicer,” Elda mumbled, her eyes unfocussed.

“No.” He kicked open the door to the room they’d paid for, laying her on the bed once inside.

“You broke the door.”

“Whoops.”

“You’re in a bad mood.”

“And?” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Vildeh.”

“At least I’m fun.”

“Reckless. The word you mean is reckless.”

“Who named you Vel?” she asked, her mind wandering wherever the thrall wanted to take it.

The demon cocked his head. “Nobody.”

“Then where did the name come from?”

“All demons have a name.”

“But who gave you it?”

“A demon name is known, not given.” He sat on the edge of the mattress and took his hood down. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you answer them. I’ll keep asking if you keep answering.” His brow furrowed. “How can a name just be known if nobody ever tells you what it is?”

“A name can give and take power from the demon. My name was protected until I was paired with Cynthia. She forced me out and made me tell her my name.”

“Did she use the Compulsion?”

“No.” Elda blinked, uncomprehending. “Where do you think all the scars came from?” Her mouth dropped open, a breath catching in her throat. “Cynthia broke me and her reward was my name.”

“Does it bother you that she broke you?”

“I don’t process pain the same way the other soul does. He carries the trauma, I carry the anger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“If she ever crosses my path I’ll tear her apart. Is that a good enough answer?”

“It is.” She frowned. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? Sypher keeps warning me about how dangerous you are.”

“The oath you swore puts me in your debt. I’ll repay that by keeping you from harm, the same way he does.” She wanted to answer but her train of thought escaped her and she sighed heavily.

“How long will this feeling last?”

“Depends on the Vampire.”

“And how long will you be sticking around for?” He heard the question she really wanted to ask.

“You can have Sypher back when the thrall is gone.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Until then, you’re not leaving my sight.”