Chapter Twelve (Lazarus)

I heard the door open as someone entered the room; I kept my eyes closed as the person sat beside me and carefully removed the bandages, washing the wounds, dressing it with the old woman’s medicines before re-bandaging it.

I opened my eyes, seeing Amaya sitting beside me, her face scrunched up in concentration as she finished bandaging the last wound.

I grabbed her hand, and she jumped in surprise, “Thank you.” I whispered.

She nodded as she went to leave, but I refused to release her hand; she sighed and sat back down. “Is there something you need?” she asked, her voice like music to my ears.

I nodded, “company.” She tried to move again, but I held her hand, “Please, Little Dove?”

She sighed. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she felt my forehead and cheeks checking for a fever. The simple touches feeling like heaven sending tingles throughout my body.

“Could be better.” I joked.

Her striking blue eyes watched me as if assessing something, “You can joke all you want, you are lucky you didn’t die.” She scolded. "You should really watch where you are going and pay attention to your surroundings."

Luck had nothing to do with it. I shrugged, “Luck is on my side then, I got injured and now a little dove is taking care of me, it’s a positive thing in an otherwise negative situation.” I smiled, "I will be more careful in the future."

“It is actually my grandmother that saved you. I am just her assistant.”

“Well, I owe your grandmother a debt, then.” I responded.

The old woman walked into the room; her eyes watchful of me. There was something about her that made me uneasy.

“The debt will be paid when you heal and leave here.” She stated bluntly as she moved to check my leg, checking the pressure of the splint.

If my little dove were to listen to this woman, it could cause a problem in my bigger plan, she didn’t even know me, so why did this old woman act like I was the enemy? If she tried to get between me and my fated mate, then I will have to do something about it.

“How is his leg?” my little dove inquired, looking at the old woman.

“It’s healing.” She replied, looking at me with a curious expression. “Amaya, dear, can you go get some oatmeal and tea for our guest?"

Amaya nodded and left the room. The old woman moved towards the head of the bed, her eyes piercing into me as she whispered, “I know what you are boy, I may not know your motives to trick my dear Amaya by not healing but this plan of yours will not work. She is taken.” She scolded me. "In other words, not...for...you," she emphasized.

“You will not keep me from my fate, old woman.” I snapped as anger flared and the old woman smiled as she whispered something I didn’t understand before replying in English.

“You have been warned, demon.” She glared.

A few minutes passed and Amaya walked back into the room carrying a bowl of oatmeal and a cup in her hand.

Seeming to read the room, she asked, “Did I miss something?” with a confused expression as she looked between the two of us.

“No, dear, he is just frustrated because he can’t walk.” The old woman smiled sweetly. Old bat.

Amaya nodded and walked towards me and set the bowl and cup on the bedside table. She helped me sit up and positioned pillows behind me so I could eat my meal.
The oatmeal and drink were awful, but I managed to eat the food. The old woman watched with a wide grin as I choked down the meal, knowing human food was not my needed diet and could actually weaken me, human food was too pure for demons and could make them very ill.

She laughed as she turned to Amaya, “Come dear, we have other chores that need tending.”

She nodded to the old woman, “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be back later to check on you.” Amaya informed me.

“See you soon Little Dove.” I smiled as she turned and left.

It was a pity she had to wear such a drab outfit; I couldn’t wait to see her in the royal garments like those that we had in hell. With her curves and red hair, she would be a sight to behold, her long red hair, the colour of fire itself, was so fitting. She would make a beautiful Queen.

I told my mother that I had found the woman the oracle had spoken of and that she was human, so she was looking for a way to bring her to hell safely as humans would instantly turn to ash if they were brought there without protection, only the damned souls could exist in the hell plane.

Of course, I didn’t fully trust my mother, so my best friend and guard Zagan and his brother Anwir followed her and make sure she wasn’t trying to hurt her. So, I would know what she was up to.

Hellebore wanted me to take a bride that would be easily controlled. She wanted to rule, and the only way she could see doing so was with a puppet. She knew I never wanted the crown and yet she still pushed. I felt bound to do her bidding, but I refused to let her pick my bride and I was determined to find my fated mate, so she found the oracle to help me find her. In my past, she had killed any woman I showed interest in. Would she go after her?

My guards were well trained and could follow the most perceptive targets without detection. I could trust that they would get me answers.

Now I just had to get Amaya to accept me as hers and bond with me so I can reach my full demon form and take over the throne like my mother wants. If I could just get her away from that old lady.

A zap of pain ran through my body. I frowned. I shouldn’t be feeling pain, I’m a demon, the pain increased in the spots where my injuries were, causing me to grit my teeth. What the hell, in a panic I tried to speed the healing I had prevented, but nothing happened.

I yelled while thinking, "What the hell did that old broad do to me?"

As if on cue, she entered the room. “Here, this should help with the pain.” The old broad walked into the room carrying a cup of something that was steaming.”
“What did you do to me?” I bit out.

“You didn’t want to heal, so I made it so you can’t heal and so you can feel pain?” she replied, her eyes shifting between their black color to a bright blue. “What the hell are you?” I accused.

“None of your business, boy.” She scolded. “You wanted to play the injured role, now you can be honest about it. Drink it.” She handed the cup to me.

“It will help with pain?” I questioned, wanting the pain to stop.

She nodded. “And quit calling me old woman, it is hurtful, whether in your head or words. I am Abigail.”

I downed the cup and bit back a curse; it tasted awful. Abigail smiled, “Now get some rest, trickster.”