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

where the soul in all its possibility moved between hope and misery. By the demons’ influence in these corridors between life and death, black despair was bid to step into this imperfect world from the ranges of all that might be summoned, kind or malevolent. The vacuous forms turned to Moriel, as if listening.
    â€œA man will take my place, here,” Moriel murmured, “and, my dear friends, I need you to do the same to him as was done to our poor, devoted Mr. Tourney. Nothing left. Limb from limb. He’s meant to be me, as I’m sure you realize. So be as thorough as you did in taking Tourney for your cause and turn these dank gray walls red. I love red. You’ll have to come do up my estate once I’m finally home again! As always, thank you for your service, my devoted compatriots!”
    Moriel turned to see O’Rourke shudder as he looked into the blackness that was those forms. O’Rourke, seeing that his reaction had been noted, made move to apologize, but Moriel held up a bloodstained hand.
    â€œIt is a particular absence, one that chills the soul if gazed upon too long,” he said gently. “Even I have my limits. Now, my darling boy, set me free!”
    O’Rourke took the key and began unwinding the chains that sealed the door of the makeshift cell. As he worked, he kept glancing at the figures; each time he did, the chains clattered a bit too loudly and the key rattled too tellingly in the lock. Finally, the gate swung open.
    â€œAfter you, my friend.” Moriel gestured the large man ahead, but O’Rourke bowed his head and retreated a step, gesturing in turn.
    â€œOh, no, no, after you, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing lower without taking his eyes off the hovering ink-black forms. “Your kingdom awaits.”
    After a slightly awkward pause, Moriel emerged from the cell. He paused on the threshold to look over his shoulder and give a little wave to the duet of coalesced malevolent mass within his erstwhile prison. Straightening his small frame, he strode confidently down the dark, dank hall, head held high, past two other guards. One was unconscious; the other looked dazed—evidence of the chemicals O’Rourke had mentioned.
    The Majesty smiled, then stepped slightly to the side as a pair of men—one his own height and build, one much larger—passed through the corridor, heading for the cell Moriel had so recently abandoned. The smaller man was only half conscious, stumbling along and struggling in the other’s grip. The taller guard bobbed his head to his master, and Moriel’s smile grew when he saw the dark eyes of the possessed staring at him.
    Not all the Summoned would take on a bodily possession to do their work, but many did, and it ensured greater service than shorter-term supplications and persuasions.
    Moriel turned to watch the double enter the cell. As the door closed behind the pair, the Majesty heard a dim protest—apparently the man was rousing to his fate—then sounds of a struggle, punctuated by expletives.
    The former captive began to walk away, listening with anticipation to what was happening behind him.
    There came the most ungodly scream that ever man had rent.
    The sound of crunching bones and the entirety of a body’s fluids exploding outward, painting three cell walls and splashing through the bars to coat the corridor beyond.
    O’Rourke clearly tried to hide a wave of panic and nausea, but Moriel noticed.
    â€œAh, the beautiful perfume of human fear,” he said, breathing deep.
    The guard and his protected charge stopped, just before opening the exterior gate. He glanced behind him, as if to make sure no Summoned silhouette had followed.
    â€œBefore we go any farther, it’s been quite an experience with you, sir, and … but … I’d like some assurance, Mr. Moriel,” O’Rourke stated. “Your Majesty,” he added with deference. “… that all