Retribution, Devotion by Kai Leakes

she could have, but something in her echoed that it was a shame that the Reaper hadn’t shredded the Dark Lady apart.
    â€œMy lady, shall we visit Winter? I believe she has the healing properties ready; and you seemed to have a dislocated shoulder and open wounds down your back, Princess.”
    The Medusa knew she was risking confronting the Dark Lady in her fit of rage but fuck it. She had her own self to worry about and, currently, the bleeding in her side. Her slowly reforming fleshy nub of a hand and the fact that her hip was dislocated was not helping anyone, including herself.
    The Dark Lady’s edgy and heated voice flowed over her in icy tension as she squeezed her eyes shut from the searing throbbing. Leaking fluid appeared to seep through her grasping fingers and she was taken aback by it.
    â€œPain is what feeds us, Nydia, or do you forget that in your own needs? What we need to do is get what is ours and coat our hands in their blood,” her Mistress patronized.
    Nydia had to keep herself from slapping the Dark Lady, opting instead to give a curt nod in submission. The Dark Lady’s irrational traits could be so damn annoying. Did they not just go head to head with the enemy? Did they not just barely escape from being eaten by the Reaper? The bitch was insane.
    Carefully she kept her stance while her vision threatened to flicker in and out. “Yes, Princess, we do need to coat our hands in their blood. Their attack was an affront and of course we have the right to defend ourselves; but our healer is calling us and you know the rules of war.”
    The Dark Lady cringed then exhaled. Blood dripped from her Mistress’s plush lips while her wavy mahogany hair draped her face in wet tendrils. “Father would not be amused by this . . . affront. Sí, you are right. Let us be about this damn healing and then payback will be had.”
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    â€œThis is an unfortunate failure on our behalf, daughter. You do know this disgraces our efforts of winning this war, hmm?”
    The Medusa slowly uncrossed then crossed her well-honed, voluptuous legs while she sat at the Cursed kingdom council table. She listened to the low Cuban-accented voice of the Mad King callously address her Mistress. Today Nydia noticed that her Mistress chose to wear her jeweled silver crown upon her cascading hair. Mystery was decadence to the Dark Lady, which was why Nydia knew that she chose to wear that specific crown. Jeweled beads spilled down her mistress’s face to cloak her features and leave only her kohl-lined eyes peering through its veil.
    Millions upon millions of what appeared to be painted handprints adorned the council chamber walls. They added to the sinister coldness in the massive room. These were the difficult ones. Victims, or hostages, so the Cursed loved to called them. Fools who were taken from the human world and Nephilim hunting grounds by either Nydia’s own hands or other Cursed entities’ touch. Each soul that was trapped was to be used for later games or to be given the Bite, which would taint their weak bodies and make them Cursed.
    Like an elaborate crown, the prints framed the Mad King’s haunting visage. Tapping her nail against her temple with her good hand, Nydia couldn’t help but watch in feigned respect. Dressed in a gray Italian suit that fit his broad, muscular frame, it accented his tanned walnut-toned skin, allowing the Mad King to project an old world suave allure. His goatee caressed his face in a salt-and-pepper hug while the dimples in his cheeks reminded Nydia of her mistress twin. If the King once smiled, it was always in sinister pleasure. He could be the toned twin of Antonio Banderas with Afro characteristics, but only taller, at six feet nine inches, Nydia considered.
    The Mad King aka Caius Primus de M’ylce was the first and only created Fallen Elder. She had learned from Reina that he was created by taking the dark soul of the Original