Dark Gods Rising by Mark Eller, E A Draper Read Free Book Online Page B

which were just celebrants. No one seemed out of place, but that was what Calto and Larson wanted, the element of surprise. There was laughter, tankards of good ale and jugs of the best wine, along with the smell of roasted pork, arvid, and chicken. If Simta didn’t feel so wretchedly nauseous, the commons would have smelled like a slice of heaven. As it was, she could barely stand to breathe without puking.
    Scanning the room, Simta felt a glimmer of hope when she didn’t see Malaria. Maybe he had decided to not show, but from the corner of her eye she caught the wave of a hand. She turned slowly toward the gesture, horrified at seeing Malaria’s languid hand motioning her over. Did she really have to sit with him to fulfill Calto’s orders— within reaching distance? She knew from rumor how fast demons and devils could move. She once saw a demon change its hands into weapons, and hellborn were strong. How easy it would be for Malaria to simply reach over and rip her head right off her shoulders. At least if he killed her, Simta wouldn’t have to suffer much, that is as long as he decided not to hold her on the brink of death and play with her afterward. Of late, many walking dead had been seen in the dark recesses of the city streets. No part of Simta wanted to join them.
    Oh gods, this is not helping. Think happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy, happy— oh screw it. I’m dead.
    Drawing a deep breath, Simta gave Malaria a small smile. Well, more like a grimace, but it was the best she could do at the moment, especially considering the fact she was about to die.
    Simta’s hand strayed to the satchel by her waist. Another book, one given the appearance of the book she had been sent to steal, had been handed to her by Calto with simple instructions. All she had to do was hand it to the demon. When she had asked what it would do to Malaria, Calto had given her a cold smile and said, “You will just have to watch and see.”
    Needless to say, this dubious assurance only cemented the fact she was going to die.
    The demon stood. His eyes narrowed, but his calm smile never left his face. Sweat formed upon Simta’s brow and did a slow slide down her neck as she drew closer. The satchel hung so heavy upon her shoulder Simta thought she was going to drop it. Malaria slowly came around the table to pull a chair out for her before returning to his seat.
    The air felt thick and heavy with her own fear. When Simta sat, she envisioned shackles coming up around her ankles and upper arms, effectively trapping her in the chair so Malaria could kill her slowly once he discovered the book was a fake. If worse came to worse, she could lie and tell him she only did as he had asked, that the book she took from the Evertrue mansion was exactly the book he had wanted because it looked like the book she had been sent to steal. How could she know it was a fake?
    “Things went well I assume?” he asked.
    “Yes. It wasn’t too difficult to get in and grab the book, but I’m a bit nervous. Anothosia’s seal was on top of it.”
    Amazingly, her voice didn’t shake or crack like she feared it might. She found it difficult to not crane her neck around looking for the knights. Somehow, she managed to continue staring in Malaria’s eyes without screaming. For once, she had not had a thing to drink. Simta sincerely doubted alcohol would have helped anyway. She would never be able to get drunk enough to forgot what Calto had shown her, the horrid vision of her own body being torn apart by this evil monster’s teeth, watching herself die.
    “Well, let me have it.” Malaria looked hungry, anxious. Both hands pressed face down on the table’s surface. “That’s it in the satchel, right?”
    Nodding, Simta placed the plain brown leather satchel upon the table.
    “Show me.”
    With hands that shook only slightly— which was a miracle because she was close to peeing herself— Simta untied the strings. Malaria leaned closer, his expression