Read Online Eterna and Omega by Leanna Renee Hieber - Free Book Online

Moriel, asked softly.
    â€œIt is, Majesty,” the tall, scarred guard replied in a rumbling Irish lilt.
    â€œIs my double chosen?”
    â€œYes, Your Majesty. The night watchman we’ve selected is roughly your proportions.”
    The dank, dark cell in the Royal Courts of Justice that no one knew existed held one small man, balding and beady-eyed, a person generally thought to be long dead by royal decree. He was wearing a fine deep burgundy suit that he’d had smuggled in to mark the auspicious occasion of his secret release.
    â€œThe man will likely scream quite like a pig, so we will have to account for that,” Moriel stated.
    â€œIt is taken care of, Majesty,” the guard assured him. “Chemicals were administered to the guards, so our path will be clear, and operatives are stationed near the exit for additional security. We’re exiting via a rear alley and heading straight to Vieuxhelles, which has been prepared for you—all the wires, all the machinery. All tertiary operations can now continue from the estate, as Apex has shipped the appropriate products for each of the three ventures.”
    â€œO’Rourke, I am so pleased with you,” Moriel cooed, reaching through the iron bars to clasp the man’s wide palms. “Now. Are you ready to see how I summon my assistants?”
    â€œYes, Majesty,” the guard replied earnestly, then continued warily, “provided the Summoned know I am your ally and don’t think me the double. Can you promise me that?”
    â€œOf course they won’t mistake the wrong man,” Moriel said. “My Summoned engage only upon my command, as it’s my blood spilled that calls them. Blood is such a precious thing, and the Summoned love nothing more than wasting that which is precious. As my blood is most precious of all, they regard my sacrifice highly. The Summoned are diligent and loyal to me, considering the sustenance I’ve given them in the past and will give again as our world order nears.”
    Moriel turned to the wall, where he’d etched a distinct rectangular groove by diligent application of the end of a spoon through the months of his imprisonment.
    â€œO’Rourke, my dear, do you happen to have a sharp knife?” Moriel asked nonchalantly. “I’ve a dull implement that will do, but I’d prefer not to be in quite so much pain when activating the corridor.”
    â€œOf course, Your Majesty,” the man said, handing the blade between the bars.
    Without a wince or a moment’s hesitation, Moriel slashed his forearm. Blood burbled from the wound. A breath hissed between O’Rourke’s teeth, but the Majesty remained unmoved. Drawing forth the Summoned was commonplace, as revealed by his forearm, which was scarred with cuts in varying lengths and stages of healing.
    â€œThe Summoned walk the dark path, O’Rourke. Some might call them demons, others use other words depending on their own traditions. As I believe in no God but Myself, all I know is that the Summoned are terribly useful and will be critical in reordering the world back into the old ways.”
    He used a finger to fill the rectangle he had carved into the wall with his blood. He caressed the top line, whispering to the stone, bidding the shadows and the darkest of matters to come forth, in tones a familiar paramour might use to call into a locked chamber where a sweetheart lay sleeping. This was not a courtship of rite and ritual but already an established marriage.
    The wall rippled slightly as if it were liquid.
    Two black silhouettes, forms of human spark and living energy in abject reverse, slipped from the spiritual halls of human choice and capacity. Moriel did not understand the exact properties of where the forces he summoned lived, if that’s what their existence could be called, but it seemed they stepped out from between the world’s moments, leaching from the corridors of time,