Dark Harmony by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 8

I glance around me at the sun-scorched earth.

This is … not what I’d been expecting. I mean, I’m not sure what I had been expecting when it came to Galleghar Nyx’s resting place, but I think I’d assumed it would be somewhere in the Night Kingdom—and that a cemetery would be involved.

To be fair, the place feels about as morbid as a cemetery.

After I’d had coffee, a bath, and a wink—er, okay, a fuck-ton—of sleep, Des and I headed off to visit the tomb of Des’s father.

Which, apparently, is this wasteland of a place.

My eyes sweep over the landscape again. The dry, dusty earth stretches out for miles and miles around us, only interrupted here and there by a boulder. Off in the distance, some craggy cliffs rise, looking just as barren as the land. The wind whistles a lonesome, loveless tune as it tugs at my hair.

It’s more than just the austere look of the place. There’s something about this land … like color is seeping away and the senses are dulling—it feels as though the earth itself is sucking the life out of me.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“The Banished Lands,” Des says, squinting at our surroundings. “It’s a section of land that divides the Flora and Fauna Kingdoms. This is where exiled fairies go.”

You know what, I didn’t even know fairies could be exiled. I assumed fae rulers just made their criminals disappear.

I guess you learn something new every day.

“And you buried your dad here,” I say, putting the pieces together.

The Bargainer stares at the landscape, a troubled expression on his face, before his gaze meets mine. “This is as close to desecrating his body as I could get,” he says.

The admission sends a shiver through me. Des is so good to me that I often forget just how ruthless he can be.

Night’s falling here, and for once since I met Des, the darkness doesn’t feel welcoming.

I take the Bargainer’s hand. “Show me where your father is buried.”

We cut across the landscape, Des leading me towards an unassuming cluster of stones, the biggest of which is as large as a car. When we get to them, Des lifts his hand, his expression grim. Down our bond I sense the pull of magic, and then I feel it around us, saturating the parched air.

With a groan the massive stone in front of us drags itself aside, revealing a small and crudely made pit.

For a while, the Bargainer simply stares down into the inky darkness, his face expressionless.

I lick my parched lips. “Is this … ?”

“My father’s resting place,” Des says, his eyes never wavering from that hole in the ground.

As far as burials go, this one is pretty much the equivalent of giving the dead the middle finger—a final fuck you to send them off to the afterlife with.

So I guess it’s fitting for his A-hole dad.

“Why give him a tomb at all?” I ask.

I would’ve thrown his carcass to the wolves.

“Believe me, I didn’t want to.” Des takes a deep breath, then tears his gaze away from that hole. A sardonic smile pulls the corner of his mouth up. “After Galleghar died, I left his body out for carrion to eat,” he says, “but no creature would touch it. When that did not work, I set his body to sea—but the waves returned it to me.”

I stare at him as he talks, sensing his restlessness. My own unease is growing.

“I tried burning his body.” He rubs his lower lip. “It was impervious to flame. I tried to vaporize his remains, but they resisted my magic.”

My eyes dip to that hole in the ground, trying not to get spooked by Des’s words.

“There are only three types of souls whose bodies can resist returning to the earth: those that are too powerful for it, those that are too pure for it, and those that are too corrupted for it.”

One guess which category Desmond Flynn’s father falls into.

“Eventually, I brought him here.” The Bargainer’s eyes return to the pit. “It killed me to give him even this—a hole in the ground. He deserved so much worse.”

From the stories I’ve heard—that Galleghar had slaughtered all his heirs in a bid to keep his throne—I can’t help but agree.

Des releases another breath and steps up to the edge of the hole. He kneels, studying its depths. Then, in one smooth motion, he lowers himself into the darkness.

Oh sweet Jesus, we’re going down there.

Of course we are.

Really don’t want to …

Maybe I can just linger topside …

“Don’t tell me you’ve developed a fear of the darkness now, cherub,” Des calls from below, his voice echoing.

Ugh. Fine.

I move up to the hole, sitting down at its edge and letting my feet dangle into it. I squint into the shaft, trying to gage how deep it is.

From the shadows, two hands wrap around my ankles, and with a swift jerk, I’m yanked into the darkness. Before I have a chance to shriek for dear life, Des catches me, and I’m sure he can feel the drum of my heart pounding against his chest.

“Oh my god,” I say, breathless, my skin brightening seconds too late, “why would you do that?”

Des laughs into the darkness. “You are much too tempting to toy with …” his eyes drop to my lips, caught in the glow of my glamour, “and to resist.”

He leans in, but before he can kiss me, I press a hand to his mouth.

“Uh uh,” I chastise him, glamour in my voice. “You don’t get a kiss for that.”

At my words, he pulls away a little, his eyes bright. “What do I get?” he says, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous grin.

A spanking, my siren whispers. Let’s make him give himself a spanking. He’s been a bad boy.

I almost laugh at the thought.

“You get the pleasure of avoiding my siren’s wrath. She wants you to spank yourself.”

The appropriate reaction is to be horrified at the thought. Too bad the Bargainer is decidedly inappropriate.

His face fills with gleeful surprise. “Naughty thing,” he chastises. “And right here in my father’s grave too.” Now he does give me a quick kiss. “Maybe later I’ll appease your dirty thoughts.” In the dim light cast by my skin, I see him wink at me.

It’s enough to mollify my siren.

With that, Des releases me. “Watch your step,” he advises. “There’s a tricky staircase you’ll need to maneuver—on second thought, it’d probably be best if I carried you …”

Before I can say or do anything else, his magic curls like smoke low in my belly. I feel the tug of it drawing me close to him.

“This is repayment for the coffee, isn’t it?” I say as the magic courses through me.

That, or Des really likes stirring my siren into action. Because where a second ago she was settling back down, now she’s pressing against the underside of my skin, eager to take over completely.

“I told you repayment would be fun,” Des says, a smirk in his voice.

Ha!

“This is not really what I had in mind when I made that wish …”

“Consider this foreplay, baby siren.”

And still his magic tugs at me, getting more insistent with every passing second.

“Alright, but I want to ride piggyback,” I state.

“I didn’t realize that you called the terms of repayment,” he says smoothly, scooping me up. Now that I’m in his arms, the magic relaxes. “Of course, if you want to ride me from behind—” his tone is undeniably sexual, “I won’t protest too much. Though it’s not my favorite position.”

God, he’s in rare form today.

He moves me to his back, and I wrap my arms around his neck, breathing in his smell as his hair tickles my cheek. His hands hook beneath my legs and he carries me down the winding stairway and deep into the ground.

The air down here is thick like molasses, heavy with protective wards meant to keep intruders out. It’s a shock to feel so much magic concentrated here when the land itself seems parched of it.

Des utters a phrase in Old Fae, and just like snapping one’s fingers, the magic parts, letting us through.

Ahead of us, mounted torches flare to life, illuminating a small chamber; the walls, ceiling and floor of it are nothing more than packed dirt. Right in the middle of the room, sitting on a natural bed of rock, is a roughhewn stone sarcophagus.

Maybe it’s the spells that still thicken the air, or maybe it’s the sight of the stone coffin, or maybe it’s simply the fact that this is the tomb of a man so evil the earth won’t corrupt his body, but a wave of vertigo washes through me. If it weren’t for Des’s hold on me, I would’ve slid off his back.

Gently, Des sets me down so he can lift his hand towards the sarcophagus. His magic briefly thickens the air, then stone grinds against stone as the lid begins to slide off the coffin.

An old, sour-tasting terror I used to feel whenever I thought about my father now rushes back. But it’s not my stepdad who’s frightening to me. It’s the possibility of what’s beneath that stone slab. A body that cannot decay, a man who’s back from the dead.

The lid comes off, hovering in the air before slowly lowering itself to the ground. It lands on the dirt with an echoing thump, dust billowing out around it.

From where I stand, I can’t see into the coffin. I creep forward, Des at my side.

I hear the Bargainer’s swift inhalation of breath, and then my eyes land on the inside of the coffin.

There’s no rotting corpse, nor is there a perfectly preserved body. There’s nothing here at all.

Galleghar Nyx might’ve once rested here, but he does no longer.

The sarcophagus is empty.