Chilling Cadence

Nineteen

 Cadence headed straight home as the sun was beginning to set. She promised Chau she would stop by The Sizzling Griddle later on in the evening. According to Chau, a lot of people were interested in thanking her for helping to stop the Cyhyraeth but they hadn’t gotten the chance to thank her outright. After Chau had mentioned that, Cadence had thought back to it, all the Witches who came in since then seemed to overpay for all of their items and when Cadence tried to give them their money back, they would insist she keep it.

It wasn’t raining as heavily as it had been previously. The drizzle was light and barely noticeable, but the cold was another thing altogether. What was more, since evening had fallen, Cadence could feel the power swirling through her veins. It was double—no, triple—what it normally was and she knew for certain, Hansel and Gretel already knew where she was and she didn’t have much time until they arrived. At least, she was content in knowing they would have a hard time getting past Lorelei. Even if they were two of the best Hunters the Association had, Lorelei Darkhe was no easy target.

Inside her home, the heat was comfortably welcome and she felt her eyes slit closed. As much as she wanted to fall asleep, she couldn’t. She had to give honor to her ancestors.

Cadence set up her alter in the basement under Grimm’s watchful gaze. He had been strangely quiet these days, but such actions were common with Grimm. He had periods of time when he would just be more silent than he normally was. Cadence knew better than to ask him why he was so silent. In the end, he would never tell her anything.

She focused instead on setting everything up. She drew her sigils for honoring Hades and all of those in the spirit world, ancestors, and those who had no ties to her. She lit her candles, which had, too, been carved with sigils, and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she slipped into a more meditative mindset.

She couldn’t say how long she stood there, her eyes closed in concentration with the sound of the crackling flame from the candle sounding in her ears. But suddenly, Cadence was aware that, when she breathed in, the air was sweet. It no longer smelled like her basement—damp and little moldy, with the scent of the herbs she had used to make the potions to hold off the Cyhyraeth days before still lingering in the air.

This scent, she noticed, was like being in a field after rain. The sharp, crisp scent of grass after rain filled her nose. And what was more than that was that she could feel the wind on her. It was the kind of cool wind that was pleasant at first but could make you cold if you stood out in it for too long. It blew through her hair and blustered back the fabric of her dress.

Dress?

Little Nightingale, the voice called. Come to me. Come closer.

Her eyes snapped open and she stared in horror and surprise. She wasn’t in her basement anymore. She was standing in the middle of a windy moor, surrounded by fields of grass and flowers with an old, abandoned castle crumbling on her far right.

That wasn’t the most horrifying part, though. The more horrifying part was that she was dressed in a high-necked wedding dress. Her heart raced in her chest as she stared down at herself.

Little Nightingale, the voice called again. How long do you plan to keep me waiting?

Cadence looked around the moor frantically. It was no use. The only thing her eyes could see was grass, flowers, and that old dilapidated castle that had lost most of its structure.

“Who are you?” she called out, her voice breaking a little. Somehow, though, Cadence felt like she already knew who it was. She just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

Who am I? the voice asked, its tone mocking. Come closer, little Nightingale, and you will see me for yourself.

Cadence didn’t want to go any closer. She wanted to be back in her basement. She had thought Hansel and Gretel were the most terrifying things that could happen to her. And, in truth, they had been the scariest thing that had happened at that moment. They didn’t compare to this voice. Even without seeing who it belonged to, a sense of foreboding trembled through her body and rose goosebumps on her arms.

Still, even though she didn’t want to see who the voice belonged to, her legs stumbled forward.

Stop, she thought to herself. Stop, stop, stop. I don’t want to see.

But to her horror, her legs wouldn’t listen to her. It was as if they had a mind of their own as if someone else was piloting her body and she was a bystander. She could only watch as her body moved forward down the grassy moor.

There was a figure there suddenly even though, with the incredibly flat terrain, Cadence would have been able to notice it if it had been there before. It was a man; broad-shouldered and slender, tall and with an aura that only served to prove her foreboding right.

He was a demon.

And not just any demon.

She knew who he was, and she knew why he was here, waiting for her in this moor, standing perfectly still in his suit while she trudged—without her permission—toward him in her wedding dress.

He was one of the new kings of Hel. The one who was said to be more powerful than even Grimm had been before he became her familiar. The one who all the other kings of Hel trembled before and the one who she was supposed to rule beside.

Azrael.

Cadence’s body went into full-on panic mode and, she wasn’t exactly sure what she did but broke free from whatever spell had been pulling her forward. She planted her feet firmly to the ground and stopped a few feet away from him.

He turned and looked at her, amused, fascinated. He was as deceptively beautiful as Lorelei was. He was olive-skinned and his hair was the color of rich caramel. There would have been nothing to give away his true nature if his eyes had been closed. The eyes that stared back at her were a deep ruby red with hues of gold around the slitted pupil.

She swallowed hard. “Why are you here?”

Azrael grinned, exposing dimples. His expression was almost innocent when he smiled.

You no longer want to know who I am, little Nightingale? Weren’t you curious?

Her eyes narrowed. “I know who you are. Now answer my question.” Panic made her voice steely, and she was grateful for this. Her voice had already cracked earlier, and Demons were like Vampires in the fact that both liked fear.

The veil is fraying, Azrael answered. And it will not be long before I can come to collect my bride.

Nausea rose up in Cadence’s stomach, but she swallowed and forced it back.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be anyone’s bride.”

Azrael seemed completely unaffected as his head moved to one side.

Our union is destined, little Nightingale. You cannot fight destiny.

This wasn’t the first time someone had said those words to Cadence. Since Witches had been created due to Demons fornicating with mortals, Witches naturally considered it an honor to lay with a demon. It strengthened the Witch bloodline and the children born between Witches and Demons were even more powerful than the children of mortals and Demons. It was why Alisyn had been so revered. Demons, although quick to sleep with Witches, didn’t take them as brides. Alisyn had been the first and last Witch to be taken as a bride.

So, when the prophecy had foretold Cadence would be the second Witch in all of history to be taken as a Demon’s Bride, all the Witches who had been in the room to hear the prophecy rejoiced. They raved about how wonderful it was to be a Demon’s Bride. Some even complained that they wished they had her destiny.

“You can’t fight destiny, Cadence,” the women had said, laughingly when she had said she didn’t want to be a Demon’s Bride. “It’s already been written. You will be the bride of the most powerful Demon in Hel.”

“Why would you want to fight that kind of destiny?” another woman had interjected.

Her lips pulled into a tight line at that memory. “I can try.”

Azrael’s gaze on her was watchful. He was like a scientist watching newly discovered wildlife.

Would you like me to tell me why you will choose to be my bride, little Nightingale? When Cadence responded only with silence, he continued, There are powerful things trapped by Alisyn’s magic and if they leave, not only will all of Glasskeep be obliterated, but the world will be destroyed.

Swallowing with a dry throat was painful, so she cleared her throat instead. “What does that have to do with me choosing to be your bride?”

He grinned, pleased to have gotten her attention. You have people you care for in Glasskeep, do you not? Particularly, you seem fond of that little Krasue. Chau, right? She’ll die, you know. If the veil Alisyn set up is destroyed.

Cadence sucked in a breath. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with me being your bride. Can you restore the veil?”

Azrael laughed. Such things are not in my realm of power, so no. However, you can. Azrael came closer and Cadence took a step back. Just as I am stronger than all of those around me, you are stronger than all of those around you. You are more powerful than Alisyn by far. Restoring the veil and protecting those you care for are all things you can do very easily, little Nightingale. The only thing holding you back is your fear of magic.

Cadence narrowed her eyes. “Now it all makes sense. You’re trying to get me to use magic. I know what magic does to Witches, and I won’t—”

Azrael held up a hand. Let me finish. Do you know why Witches lose their souls when they use too much powerful magic?

“Witches have to be bound to either a god or a demon to use magic properly. In exchange for giving them the power to perform those powerful spells, gods and demons alike take souls as payment.” She didn’t know where he was going with this, but she figured the only way out of this moor was to finish this conversation.

Exactly. But, what if you didn’t need to call on a god or a demon to summon power.

Cadence’s mind went blank for a few seconds. “That’s impossible,” she finally said. “To perform powerful spells, you need the power of either a deity or a Great Demon. Witches can’t just—”

I didn’t say you don’t need a Demon’s power. Rather, what if that Demon whose power you used was your husband. You would never need to call on my power because we would be connected and therefore…

Cadence was silent. According to what her Grandmother told her when a Witch married a Demon, they had free reign over that Demon’s power. The greater the Demon, the greater the power the Witch could yield.

She shook her head in disbelief. “You still have to give parts of your soul to use magic. It probably still—”

You’ll be using the power of a High Demon at will. You won’t need to call upon the power of power-hungry gods, or Demons who thirst for souls. The power you use will be yours because it is mine and we will be one.

Cadence was so rooted in her spot, so stuck at the impossibility of his words, that she didn’t notice Azrael had come closer to her until he was placing his hands on her shoulders. She flinched in surprise. She could feel his hands through the lacy fabric of the gown’s sleeves. They were unnaturally hot and his grip was like iron weights pressing down on her. In her scattered thoughts, the image of Lorelei with her hands pressed on Jaxon’s shoulder came to mind. She wondered if the Vampire was as strong as Azrael was.

Listen to me, my bride, the Demon coaxed. His tone was cajoling, almost wheedling. The sooner you accept me, the better. I will make you the most powerful Witch on this planet, and the most powerful woman in the Underworld. You will rule at my side and be second only to me in terms of strength. I will give everything to you. At your command, I will send soldiers to plunder the sea and climb a mountain of knives, if you desire it. All that you must do is surrender yourself to me.

At that moment, Cadence suddenly understood why her Grandmother always told stories of unfortunate humans selling their souls to Demons in return for power and riches. Right then, Cadence felt as though she could see Agnes Nightingale’s face more clearly than she had ever seen it in a long time.

She was back, it seemed, in that bright orange, retro kitchen, sitting beside her Grandmother and watching her peel potatoes for that night’s dinner. She could see her healthy dark skin glowing in the sunlight, and her mouth pulled up in a patient grin. Her wild graying hair was tied away from her face. Despite her age, people often mistook Agnes for a woman in her late thirties or early forties rather than a woman in her mid-fifties.

“Even if you remember nothing else I tell you about Demons, you have to remember this, Cadence,” her Grandmother had said. She stopped peeling and looked Cadence straight in the eye, her face more serious than Cadence had ever seen it before. “Demons are tricky creatures. They might not be as cunning as Vampires or a slippery as the Fae, but they’re tricky in their own right. A demon can look into a man’s eyes and see his deepest desires, and present them to him.”

“So they lie to you?” Cadence remembered asking. “They tell you what they think you want to hear.”

“They tell you what you want to hear, yes, but Demons don’t lie about big things. If a Demon promises you something, it means it’s within their power to give it to you but the price they ask for is often worth more than what they’re giving. That’s what makes a Demon dangerous.”

She had always believed the stories her Grandmother had told her about Demons, but she believed them even more now as she stared into Azrael’s blood-colored eyes. He knew her deepest desires and he was willing to use them to get her to agree to his terms.

Azrael backed off suddenly. Cadence wasn’t sure what he saw on her face to make her do so—maybe the tightening mistrust in her eyes, or the set of determination of her mouth as she made up her mind—but she was incredibly relieved when he let her go.

There is no rush. I only wanted to let you know that you will come to me yourself. Glasskeep will not be a haven forever and soon, you will grow tired of cowering behind the power of those weaker than you to survive. When that day comes, you will seek me out.

“Cadence. Cadence, are you okay?”

“Perhaps we should slap her.”

“That’s not funny, Lorelei.”

“I’m not making a joke. I’m being quite serious. She seems quite dazed.”

“Hey, guys, she’s waking up.”

When Cadence opened her eyes, she found that she wasn’t standing in front of the altar anymore. She was, instead, on the cold, hard ground. Disoriented, she bolted upright only to be assaulted by a severe spike of pain lancing its way through her skull the moment she rose. She hissed in pain.

“Are you okay, Cadence?”

Chau was leaning over her, the girl’s hands outstretched to steady Cadence if she fell. Chau wasn’t the only one here, either. Lorelei was standing behind Chau and Eleanor Darkhe was behind her sister. Ruth was on Cadence’s other side. Cadence hadn’t turned to look at the old woman, but her energy was similar to a Witch who could peer into the Divine, so Cadence knew she was there without looking at her. Grimm was standing somewhere near Ruth—Cadence could feel his energy—but her head hurt too much to turn and look at him.

Cadence glanced around without moving her head—whenever she did, the pain in her head only seemed to intensify—and realized she was still in her basement.

“What the hell happened?” she whispered, rubbing at her temples.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Lorelei said. “Imagine my surprise when your familiar came running to me asking for me to help you. I thought I might stumble upon Hansel and Gretel and have some entertainment, but I only found you passed out here. Ruth was a doctor before she moved to Glasskeep, so I asked her for help.”

That was news to Cadence and, against her common sense, her head whirled around to look at the old woman. Her head swam immediately and her vision went completely dark for a second.

When she came to, Lorelei was carrying her out of the basement with the others trailing behind her.

“What the hell? I can walk,” she protested.

Lorelei glanced down at her with an expression of complete and utter boredom. “Do you think I want to be carrying you? Just be quiet and stay still before you pass out again.”

Cadence was quiet as the Vampire carried her to her living room. The entire way, Cadence couldn’t help but take note of how cold Lorelei was. She knew the Vampire was dead, but somehow, she had never considered body temperature regarding Vampires. Her arms felt like blocks of ice and Cadence could feel that coldness even with layers of fabric between them. Not only that, but her body was just as unnaturally hard as it was cold. It was like the bones underneath her skin had been layered with iron.

Lorelei sat Cadence down on the couch and Grimm jumped up beside his mistress, pressing his wet nose against her cheek anxiously. She pet his head.

“I’m okay,” she murmured.

“Is she?” Eleanor asked, turning to look at Ruth who was right behind her. “Okay, I mean?”

Ruth nodded. “It seems to be exhaustion due to using too much magic in too short a span of time,” she murmured. She came forward and patted Cadence’s hand. “Do absolutely nothing for three days but rest and you’ll be just fine.”

“Exhaustion due to too much magic? You’re sure?” Lorelei seemed skeptical.

“I’ve examined a lot of Witches since I’ve been in Glasskeep, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this kind of condition. She expended a lot of effort in stopping that Cyhyraeth, and then she used magic to help us get rid of those hooligans who came into town yesterday. Her body being in such a condition makes sense.”

Lorelei didn’t respond.

“Alright, then,” Eleanor said, clapping her hands together. “Cadence will be fine. That’s good. Let’s all leave and let her get some rest.” She grinned at Cadence and Cadence felt herself smile back hesitantly. “Stop by The Sizzling Griddle when you're better. I’ll let you have a meal on the house.” She winked.

“You go,” Lorelei said. “I have something I’d like to discuss with Cadence.”

Eleanor’s eyes darted from her sister to Cadence and back again. Her expression a mask of firm disapproval.

“You shouldn’t be stressing her out while she’s sick, Lorelei.”

The Vampire rolled her eyes. “I just want to ask her some questions.”

Cadence watched in open-mouthed surprise as the dainty Eleanor reached up and gripped Lorelei by the ear and forced the Vampire down to her height.

“I’m serious. Don’t go upsetting her.”

Cadence was even more surprised when Lorelei said, “Fine, fine. I won’t. Are you happy? Now, let me go.”

She did and glared at her sister. “And the next time you sass me, I’ll put your coffin in the middle of the street during the day and open it with you inside.”

Cadence’s eyes bulged out of her head. Was Eleanor Darkhe incredibly brave or just insane?

But Lorelei did not respond the way Cadence thought she would. She only rolled her eyes and shooed her sister away. At this point, everyone else had cleared out of the house. Even Chau, who had been a little more hesitant to leave, had been dragged away gently by Ruth.

When Eleanor was gone, Lorelei turned to look at Cadence.

“What really happened?” she asked.

Cadence controlled her expression as best she could, but her body failed her; her heart raced in her chest and sweat welled on her palms.

“What do you mean?”

“While doing that many spells would tire out a normal Witch, you’re a Nightingale. Those spells were child’s play to someone with your talent. And also…” The Vampire came close and leaned into Cadence, sniffing the air around her. Cadence stiffened in horror, but Lorelei leaned back a little and stared Cadence straight in the eye. “You smell like a High Demon.”

Cadence didn’t respond, and finally, Lorelei blew out a sigh, her cold breath brushing Cadence’s face as she pushed herself up and away.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I have the gist of what probably happened anyway.” She stared at Cadence for a long time before she asked, “You said no, didn’t you?”

Cadence looked up at Lorelei in surprise—how much did the Vampire know about her—before she nodded.

“A wise choice. Nothing good comes from making deals with Azrael.”  And she turned and left without another word, leaving Cadence gaping after her.