Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4) by Bella Klaus (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📗

those cradles or that my infant picture might grace that creepy display.

I glanced to the right, where a sofa sat in the corner, laden with overstuffed cushions and deep enough to fit two if they snuggled close. Woolen blankets lay folded at the base, indicating that this was either her bedroom or a place where she had slept while taking care of all the babies that had been birthed in service to her master.

My fingers trembled with the urge to release Hades’ ashes before the woman tracked down Kresnik and returned with him. “Where is it?”

“Bathroom,” Hades said. “There’s a door to the right.”

Without a word, I hurried across the room and into Healer Calla’s bath chamber, which was a little larger than the wet room of my studio apartment and contained an oversized barrel filled with steaming water. A bucket floated on its surface, but there was no sign of a cabinet.

“Where?” I asked.

“Look behind you.”

I whirled around, only to find the door. “Where?”

“Up.”

A glass jar of ashes balanced between a massive hairbrush and a soap dispenser atop the thickest doorframe in existence. I scratched my head and frowned. There was no time to wonder why she kept her bathroom paraphernalia so far away from the bath. People with the power of telekinesis seemed to live by different rules.

It was beyond my reach, and I doubted that poking it with a long stick would do anything but make the other items tumble to the tiled floor. The point was moot, considering I had no such stick.

My fingernails dug into my scalp, trying to increase the blood flow enough to generate an idea to get it down. Walking around in a circle and taking in my surroundings often helped in situations like this. As I turned, my gaze landed on the wooden stool by the bath barrel, which could double as a bootleg stepladder.

I sprinted over to the bath barrel, moved the stool to the doorframe, and stepped on its seat. Even stretching on my tiptoes, my middle finger barely grazed the jar’s glass.

“It’s too high,” I whispered. “You’re going to have to help me.”

“With which body?” he snarled into my ear.

“You can make your ashes float, can’t you?” I snapped. “Concentrate all your Demon King power behind the jar and push.”

Jagged magic prickled across my skin, making me clench my teeth. “Use that power on the jar, not me!”

“Very well.” Hades’ ashes settled into a small pile, which unsettled as he rose toward me as an invisible ball of static electricity. All the fine hairs on my body stood on end the way they might if a human was being followed by a ghost. I gulped. This was only two jars’ worth of the disembodied Demon King. How terrible would his power become after I’d united the rest?

The jar shifted forward with jerky movements, teetering dangerously on the ledge. I raised both arms and curled my fingers, encouraging him to keep going. After five minutes of straining, I flattened my hands into a landing pad in case he pushed the item too hard.

“A little bit more,” I whispered.

“Easy for you to say.” His voice strained with the effort.

I bit down on my lip, willing him to push harder. Hades was probably trying his best, and I didn’t want him to get disheartened by pointing out that he wasn’t yet powerful enough to move a jar. He’d only just stopped the annoying sexual harassment, and I wasn’t in the mood for him to retaliate.

“Are you also keeping a watch on the door?” I asked. “If Healer Calla returns with Kresnik—”

“I am now.” His magic hesitated.

Even more minutes passed, and my pulse boomed against my eardrums like the fists of an ogre. Hades moved the jar millimeter by millimeter until enough of it hovered over the ledge for me to hook a finger beneath it and let the item drop into my palm.

Not bothering to step off the stool, I placed a Dharma salt-encrusted hand on the lid and unscrewed it, letting the ashes fall to the ground. My fingers trembled as I tried not to mess this up and drop the jar. Hades probably wouldn’t deign to sweep Healer Calla’s bathroom floor with his magic.

After filling it halfway with a handful of wood ash, I replaced the lid, and balanced the item on my palm. “Time to put it back.”

His magic crackled with indignation, feeling like the lash of dozens of tiny whips.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Big bad Demon Kings don’t go sneaking about like little mice. But unless you want that old woman to notice the jar her master entrusted to her is not in its rightful place and raise the alarm, you’d better help me replace that jar.”

“Right.” Another ball of magic crackled at my side, this one much more intense than his previous attempt.

My scalp tingled, my hair follicles tightened, and my ears filled with the snap and fizzle of his power. I raised the jar as high as I could hold it, and the newly strengthened demon cloud pushed it the rest of the way.

“Well done,” he said. “Now get down and play nursemaid to your mother.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I jumped down from the stool, carried it over to the barrel, and rushed to the bathroom door. “Are they close?”

“No,” he replied.

“Is anyone waiting in the infirmary where they can see me exit her private chamber?”

Hades hesitated.

My breath caught. “What does that mean?”

“They’ve just left.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find all traces of ashes gone. Hades must have spread them out across the floor to make himself unnoticeable. With a nod of approval, I whispered, “Check the hallway.”

“Don’t give me orders,” he snarled.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. A long sigh heaved from my lungs. Some men were so bloody insecure. “We’re working as a team right now, against a fallen god and hundreds of enemies. You need me to help free your body, and I need you