Chapter 135

Laila’s knife sinks deep between Death’s shoulder blades and the final scream of a God fills the air as Death falls to his knees.

The magic stops mid-stream, like a tap being suddenly turned off. I groan and tilt forward against Anton, who catches me and holds me against his chest.

“Shit, June,” Tony whispers.

For a moment all I can do is lean against him, my hands still gripping his shirt, gasping for breath.

But suddenly my power comes back to me all in a rush, flooding through me like cool water, energy and will returning to my bones. I take just one second to rest my forehead against Anton’s chest and breathe, savoring the sweet, fresh air in my lungs that means I’m alive.

And then I open my eyes and turn.

The sight…takes my breath away with horror and awe.

Laila, magnificent in long starry robes, her crescent moon ablaze on her forehead, standing above Death’s crouched form. He shudders and screams, a fine silver blade standing tall from his back, as grotesque as it is beautiful. Orion and Beatrice – and everyone else – stand stock-still, staring, watching as Laila pants and the God of Death does everything he can to hold on to his life.

As one, Anton and I push to our feet, starting for the platform. Laila flashes her eyes up to me, terrified as she takes a step back –

Because she’s vulnerable now that she’s ceded my power back to me. I gave it to her – nearly all of it – so that she’d have the strength to do the deed.

But now it is mine again.

I nod to her once, solid, steady – and in the same moment I cast a wide net of protection over her. Her, and Orion, and all of the other girls on the platform.

Except for Beatrice. She can fend for herself.

The courtiers and priests too I leave alone. They stumble back as I move forward, pressing to the far edges of the platform, realizing that this is not ending well for their King.

And that I, finally, am the one in charge.

I walk a step ahead of Anton as we approach the dying god. As my footstep echoes on the wood of the platform Death raises his head to glare at me, trembling as he works at once to face me and to hold his form together.

“Bitch,” Death snarls, glaring at me, his nails digging hard into the wood. As I watch his form seems to flicker – his soul coming lose from his body, even as he seeks to force them back together.

I let the insult pass, not caring. This God’s is entitled to what final words he wants, but what they are don’t matter to me. His time is done.

I stare down at him, utterly unafraid, taking in his bloodshot eyes, the magic that leaks away from him and out into the air. I don’t touch it, not wanting it or needing it.

I’ve got plenty of my own.

I wrap my own gift around me now, letting it bolster me, letting it be evident to all that stare at me now as I stand with the God of Death at my feet. I look around at all of them, feeling it when my eyes go black, claiming his death as my own. As my right. Wind and magic swirl at my feet and lightening cracks through the sky.

“This is done,” I intone, my voice echoing in two registers as it has done before. Some flinch away from me, at the raw power of my words. “This God’s time is over. This world is mine now. I claim it. It will be as I will. I call for you all to kneel before me and recognize this claim.”

“No!” Death screeches, shuddering harder, flickering in and out of himself as he attempts to rise. “Mine! It is mine! It is –“

I flick my eyes down to him and whip out my hand. Then, almost casual, I let out my own stream of power in a wide beam of light that emanates from my palm.

His scream of horror and pain is instant and chilling. But I press my mouth to a thin line as the God of Death crumbles physically away before me, his flesh falling away to ash, his bones mouldering before my eyes.

In the end, all that remains is a little pile of ash with a stunning silver knife at its center. A ghostly shade crouches to the side, whimpering. I bind that with a look, wrapping it in ghostly chains, stealing its voice.

Then I turn my eyes back to the people.

“Kneel!” I order, the stream of power still emanating from my hand.

But I don’t force them. No. I want them to do it themselves.

A moment passes as the crowd takes a moment to realize what just happened. Then, as one, they go to their knees. Orion and Laila start to bend as well, but I whip my head to them, shaking it no. It is not their business to kneel. Close behind me, Anton doesn’t think to try.

Beatrice is the last to go, staring at me in shock, realizing finally that she bet everything on the wrong horse. I bare my teeth at her, fangs extended, and Beatrice’s eyes go wider as she trembles and finally submits, going to her knees and bowing her head.

“Good,” I say, my voice returning to normal. I sigh and drop my hand, the power disappearing, my eyes returning to their normal green shade. Or, at least, I think they do. Are they all galaxied now, as they were before? I don’t honestly know, a fact that disturbs me more than the fact that we just killed a God.

Who am I anymore, after all?

Anton steps close, pressing a hand between my shoulder blades, sensing my exhaustion. I lean slightly against his palm but don’t look back, knowing I have more work to do.

“This is the start of a new era in the Underworld,” I call out, looking out over the courtiers and the priests. My court, now, after all. “An era which does not revel in the death of nineteen women so that Death’s heir can find a bride. Things are changing. Go back to your homes. Tell others what you’ve seen here. Let the Underworld know that Death is dead and you have a new Queen.”

I wave my hand, vanishing them all to their homes with a thought.

My fellow contestants I keep, though. Beatrice too. I’m not done with them.

But first, I turn my attention to Orion and Laila.

“Are you two all right?” I whisper, stepping towards them.

Orion shakes his head, staring at his father’s ghost, his mouth open now that Death’s spell has vanished. I slip a hand into Orion’s, giving it a squeeze, realizing that…

Well, that my victory meant the death of his father. And while I don’t believe that there was a great deal of love lost between them…

God. I just killed his dad.

I sigh, squeezing his hand, realizing that…we both might need a little therapy after this. Orion glances at me, squeezing my hand back, but then returns his eyes to his father, a steady frown shaping his lips. I give him a moment to pull his thoughts together as Anton steps again to my side. We both turn our attention to Laila.

“Laila,” I whisper, shaking my head at her – this wonderful girl, this…magnificent friend. “You were spectacular. I owe you –“

“Oh, you owe me nothing!” she says, her voice wavering, tight and clearly freaked out as she bends and picks up her dagger, shaking it a little to get the ashes off of it and grimacing a bit, trying to touch as few of the deathly remains as she can. “You’re welcome! Least I could do!”

I grin, seeing that Laila is completely freaked out by all of this and falling back on her Princess politeness in her panic. Anton sees it too and steps forward to our friend – his cousin, really, by birth if not genetics. He wraps her up in a hug, murmuring something nice in her ear. She sighs, hugging him back, still clutching her knife as she trembles lightly, letting herself lean against him for a moment.

I turn my attention to Orion, sensing that he might be ready. “Are you okay?”

He turns his brown eyes to me, his face stern, more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. “I’m okay.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You sure?”

He huffs a laugh, an ironic smile turning up his lips. “No.” He turns his gaze back to his father’s ghost. “But…we have things to do. I have to find a place for him in the Deadlands. We don’t have a ton of experience housing dead Gods but…” he shrugs. “I’m sure the priests will have some ideas.”

I frown a bit, studying our Prince. “Isn’t that…my job now?”

“You may be the Queen of this world now, Juniper,” Orion murmurs, turning his eyes back to me. “But I’m still Death’s heir. Those are two different things – no one ever said Death had to be King of the Underworld, that’s just a deal he struck with Life ages ago. I’m no God – at least, I don’t think I am. But Death’s responsibilities are mine now. Ruling the Deadlands is my job.”

My eyes go wide as I realize that…he’s right. I can feel it. Orion is no longer his father’s heir; instead, he’s taken his father’s place – with all the rights and privileges that entails.

Heavens. What the hell does that mean?