Ruby Callaway- The Complete Collection

by D. N. Erikson

  “Just let me think, damnit.” Everything had been so clear two minutes before: get into the Tributary. Capture enough of the source’s power to stop MagiTekk and Malcolm Roark. Then set fire to the Realm, so that no one could ever return.

  Now, however…

  I rubbed my sweaty forehead, trying to sort through the scenarios. If I had the energy, I’d have tried to trigger a vision. But any lingering effects of the last booster shot had worn off long ago. My temples pounded.

  The phone emitted a warning chime, briefly displaying Battery Depleted before dying. The tunnels plunged into absolute darkness. Then, I heard a heavy panting up ahead. Coming from the left.

  “That’s not funny,” I said to Roark.

  There was a roar in the blackness, and Roark yelled, “Duck!”

  I slammed face first into the mud just as a jet of fire burst over my head.

  But this was no dragon. Instead, in the flaming glow, I saw, far up ahead in the catacombs, a familiar demoness wearing a cowboy hat.

  It seemed Odessa had beaten us to the Tributary.

  And she was playing to win.

  22

  I fought to free my tired body from the thick mud. Odessa’s first demonic immolation spell had illuminated the catacombs behind us, igniting some of the tunnel foliage. The crackling flames told me that we wouldn’t be headed that way anytime soon.

  Finally freeing my hands from the spongy marsh, I reached for the shotgun.

  “Don’t do it, girl,” Odessa said with a slight drawl. “I need y’all alive.” She smiled, a little flicker of flame sitting on her finger like a candle. “One of you, at least.”

  “And I need you dead.”

  “You think you can draw before I kill your boyfriend, be my guest.”

  I blinked mud from my eyelashes as I looked up. Odessa’s finger was pointed at Roark. As much as I hated to admit it, the demoness had us over a barrel. Even if I could get a shot off, Roark would definitely be toast.

  Sometimes having no offensive magical powers of your own sucked.

  This was one of those times.

  I let my hand slide off the shotgun’s stock, leaving it in the back holster. With a stumbling effort, I managed to stand. Brushing myself off was hopeless. These clothes would need to be burned—if I made it out alive.

  Satisfied, Odessa let her finger drop. She tipped her hat, brown hair gleaming in the flickering flame, and gestured us forward. With a wary glance at Roark, I followed her request. Eyes still adjusting to the light, I found that the demoness was standing right before the entrance to the Tributary.

  She must’ve slipped past in the darkness.

  I resisted the urge to check my watch. Couldn’t be long, now.

  “You managed to get through the siege,” I said, glaring at her. “You’ll have to teach me your tricks.”

  “My tricks are simple,” Odessa said. Without provocation, she reached into the folds of her short skirt and took out a blood vial. She flung it at me. “Partner with the winning team.”

  I caught the empty glass and looked inside. The wisps buzzed around it angrily. “You struck a deal with Malcolm. And tracked me with my blood.”

  “The Tributary really is too much power for one girl, anyway,” Odessa said. “I can share it with others, as long as I get my cut.”

  With a flourish, she turned around and ejected another stream of fire from her fingers. A ring of flame crackled around the stone entranceway. I felt a slight twinge in my chest. I’d forgotten that demons could only cast black magic by fueling it with someone’s soul.

  I guess Roark had been the unfortunate first victim. Now I was getting a taste. It was more a warning shot than a problem—like a chipped tooth. But I knew that Odessa could turn either one of us into a soulless, shambling acolyte with precious little effort. And she would certainly do so, once our usefulness expired.

  Which would come soon enough. But I held an important bargaining chip: as a Realmfarer, only I could open the door to the ninth world. Once that stood open, I became a loose end. Worse than that: a thorn in Odessa’s side. A hail of demon fire would greet us the minute the entrance to the Tributary opened.

  Striding forward with the confidence of a dead woman, I said, “You need me alive.” I checked my watch. “And you have only three minutes before the door closes for good.”

  “Why do you think I’m having this conversation with y’all?” Odessa rolled her eyes and wiped a stray strand of sweat from her brow. “Goodness, Ruby, I didn’t take you for a fool.”

  “Which is why I’m not opening the door.” I extracted the lightning blade from my belt and tossed it casually into the air. Catching it behind my back, I gave Odessa a wicked smile.

  “If that’s meant for my throat—”

  “It would’ve found its way there already.” I met her gaze, the amber-tinged eyes a telltale sign of the demonic furnace burning beneath the attractive exterior. For a demon, she was remarkably cordial and calm. The only demon I’d met with more control over their baser instincts had been Kalos.

  And he’d only been half a demon.

  “Not many would stand near me,” Odessa said.

  “I’ve been told the same.” I ran my finger along the blade’s tip, feeling its sharp edge nip at my skin. “So here’s how this is going to work.”

  “Need I remind you that your handsome knight can be turned into cinders.”

  “Spare me the theatrics,” I said. “You can kill us both, or you can get what you want.” I didn’t even glance at Roark. “We’re both dead if I open that Rift.” I brandished the knife toward the fire-ringed entrance to the Tributary. For being the source of magical energy from which supernatural life flowed, it was shockingly nondescript, little more than a stone slab.

  But appearances could be deceiving.

  “And what alternative do you propose?”

  “More power than you ever dreamed of.” I pressed the knife against my palm and then made a quick slice. Blood trickled into the mud at my feet. “Which is why you’ll make this Blood Oath.”

  Odessa’s eyes began to burn a bright orange, the demonic tendencies creeping to the surface.

  It was like I’d suggested she would have to stop eating small woodland creatures and small children—or whatever power-hungry demonesses did in their spare time. An angry power coiled through her body, like a snake readying a venomous strike.

  “You do not dictate the terms, Realmfarer.”

  “And yet, it seems that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I held out my bloody hand.

  Thin jets of smoke trickled from her nostrils. I could feel her dark magic probing my soul, searching for the best, tastiest morsel to devour. Then, to my surprise, the light went out in her eyes, like someone had flipped a switch.

  Looking remarkably human, Odessa said, “Very well. Explain what you want.”

  “You or your disciples cannot cause Roark or I harm,” I said. “Or kill us.”

  Odessa hissed, the smoke returning. “Unreasonable.”

  “Then kill us, now,” I said, voice icy. The funereal silence in the catacombs was punctuated only by the crackle of flame and the shriek of bats trying to escape the blaze. My watch beeped, a sharp pulse counting down the final minute. I stood my ground, not even breathing. Strangely, my heart seemed at peace with my decision: if these were to be my final moments, then so be it.

  Not the best final resting place. But it was a tunnel I was willing to die in.

  “Y’all strike a hell of a bargain.” Odessa tipped her hat. “Time’s a wasting, Realmfarer.”

  She grabbed the knife and raked it across her palm. It was funny: she bled exactly the same, yet we were worlds apart. I wondered if, in the dark of night, her conscience ever kept her awake, whispering into her ear. Wanted her to answer for the things she’d done.

  Odessa extended her hand, and I clasped it firmly. The magical energy tingled as the essence wove together, binding our fates for the foreseeable future. The buzzing
dissipated when we released our grip.

  The demoness looked down at her palm with a raised eyebrow. “You are unlike any being I have ever encountered, Realmfarer.”

  I glanced at Roark, who looked on in semi-stunned silence. “I’ve been getting that a lot, lately.”

  I pulled a lever on the wall, and the stone slab moved aside, revealing a glittering world within.

  The watch blared loudly as we walked through the Realm Rift and entered the source.

  23

  Much to my shock—and slight disappointment—entering the legendary lost ninth Realm was no different than traversing any other Realm rift. The only difference had been the entry hatch: in this case, a giant stone slab which had quickly rolled aside when I pulled a nearby lever.

  And the fact that there was no tunnel. Just a straight portal into paradise.

  I stared at the verdant landscape, feeling the pull of the energy within the Tributary.

  “My God, it’s unbelievable,” Odessa said. I doubted she was prone to being overly impressed.

  Blinding sunlight poured from the sky, the smell of sweet fruit trees and lush greenery displacing the staleness of the catacombs still clinging to my nostrils. The stone slab slammed shut behind us, shaking the nearby trees.

  I watched as it was reclaimed by the landscape, until it became part of a rock formation.

  “No going back,” Roark said.

  “Who would ever want to go back?” I asked, tumbling onto the soft grass. A brook babbled, cutting through the perfect forest. The unblemished river stretched onward into the horizon, where everything opened into a brilliantly blue ocean.

  I stared at the pristine sky, overwhelmed by the beauty.

  Roark’s sharp words came to me as if in a dream. “Hey—where the hell are you going?”

  Bang. Bang.

  Then a few empty clicks, indicating Roark was out of ammo.

  The gunshots jarred me back to reality. There was still a job left to do. If the strange pictograms in the catacombs had given me pause a few minutes before, that didn’t matter, now. We were committed to finding the source. There was no sign of MagiTekk—and the demoness couldn’t harm either of us.

  Perhaps the etchings on the walls had been little more than misguided scribblings.

  I rose from the meadow, still feeling punch drunk from the beauty.

  I blinked at Roark and said, “Where’s the demoness?”

  “You didn’t see?” Roark gestured toward the horizon—toward the ocean. He looked at me with concern. “What’s going on, Ruby?”

  “I’m fine.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe away the fog covering my brain. Everything hummed in my ears.

  Unsteady on my feet, I walked slowly to where Odessa had dropped the bloody knife in the perfect grass. I bent over, picking up the blade.

  “You didn’t notice when she just ran off.”

  “I’m—” I dropped to one knee.

  Then the world cut to black.

  24

  Water lapping at my bare feet, stirring me awake. The gentle breeze reminded me of beaches I’d never visited. There was no training necessary for paradise—so Pearl and I had never gone. Always transient, from one job to the next.

  Two hundred years of wandering, without a postcard to show for it.

  I shivered, pulling my feet from the stream. I felt a sudden change—a little weariness setting into my heels that the river had soothed. I heard Roark say, “Too cold?”

  “It’s not that.” I rubbed my temples, feeling the pulsating veins. Mud caked my forearms and jeans, and my palm throbbed. “What happened?”

  “You passed out.” Roark knelt next to me on the sand, blue eyes filled with concern. “Drink the water.”

  I pressed my fists against the sand, struggling to sit up. “I’m really okay.”

  “Don’t be a martyr.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I reached for the shotgun, stomach turning over when I found my back holster empty. Then I saw it lying on the grass, safely away from the sand. A small wave of relief washed over my tired body.

  The watch dug into my wrist. I undid the strap and let it slip into the sand.

  “You’re not fine,” Roark said. “Drink. It’ll help.”

  “We need to get moving.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Ruby.”

  “I don’t know what’s in that damn water.” I glared at the perfect stream, so clear that I could see straight to the bottom. I rolled over, shifting to remove the map from my pocket. After struggling for a moment, I managed to free the muddy piece of parchment.

  I handed it to Roark, who said, “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “Just check…to make sure I didn’t make any mistakes.”

  He grabbed the map, his lean muscles tensed at just the right points, the shadows from the trees cutting across his body like a sculpture. Good thing he wasn’t a telepath. I’d met one before.

  If he knew what I was thinking, I’d be embarrassed. Given the circumstances, it seemed less than appropriate. But when did life ever slow down enough for the time to be right?

  Roark shook out the muddy map, now slightly frayed at the edges.

  “It says nothing about the Tributary.” Roark cocked his head at the perfect sky, surveying the Realm. “I don’t think anyone’s been here for a long time.”

  “So we’re on our own.”

  “Looks that way,” Roark said. “Unless Odessa has plans.”

  “I’m sure she does.” I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry.

  It was then that I noticed something eerie: there were no sounds of life anywhere. Plenty of trees and flowers, all growing from beautiful grass softer than a mattress. A pastoral scene that would put the most beautiful places on Earth to shame.

  But there were no creatures. No squirrels chattering in the branches, no birds soaring through the aquamarine sky. Not even a fish jackknifing its way through the cool stream.

  Reading my expression, Roark said, “What?”

  “There’s nothing here.”

  He glanced around, taking it in. “I guess it’s like Martin said.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “All the gods left. Must’ve taken all the creatures with them.” Roark peered at the trees. “Or maybe they all died without the gods here.”

  Roark held the worn map out, allowing the breeze to snatch it away. The parchment landed in the stream and disappeared below the placid surface. Loosening my stiff shoulders, I took stock of my remaining supplies.

  “Can you please drink the water?”

  “Tell you what.” A plan formed in my mind. Enough rest and quiet time on the beach. We needed to reach this water’s source. “I’ll take a bath and then we’ll get moving.”

  “You’re not in good shape. We should stay here.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, emptying my pockets as I ignored his concerns.

  Four MagiTekk shells in the shotgun, plus five of Martin’s mystery rounds in my jacket. Harcourt’s original enchanted note. Malcolm Roark’s threatening message. Pearl’s handwritten scrawl from beyond. The dead phone. The Realmpiece.

  And the lightning blade.

  With the sun blazing ahead, I removed the leather jacket, tossing it in the sand. I crumpled up the notes and jammed them in the pockets. No use for them anymore. The phone was caked in marsh slime and muck. Probably useless.

  It got relegated to the trash heap.

  We’d be traveling light.

  I took a final look at the stuff, then gathered it in my arms and threw it into the stream.

  “Hey,” Roark said. “That jacket was a gift.”

  “You should’ve seen the gift I had planned for you last night,” I said. I unbuttoned the muddy shirt, smelling the decay from the catacombs lurking beneath the fresh scent of the Tributary.

  Then I wiggled out of the jeans.

  “Oh yeah?” I could feel Roark’s gaze on me. The faint wisps turned a passionate sha
de of red around his head.

  “Yeah.” I gave him a seductive wink and then rolled my eyes. “Too bad you’ll never know.”

  “No second chances?” Roark’s blue eyes were doleful and wide, his handsome jaw set in an expression of faux-sadness.

  I glanced around the beach. “Where’d you put my boots?”

  He blinked twice. Probably the only time a woman had resisted the charm—not that he ever used it, really, except for official FBI business. Seemed like a waste to cultivate such an easy charisma, only to lock yourself in your office. But that was the problem with obsession: it darkened the edges of the world, cloaking you in shadow.

  “Well?” I asked, standing there in my underwear.

  “Uh, on the grass. I washed the mud off.” He looked flustered and went to retrieve them. I stood with my hands on my hips as he handed the boots to me without comment. The stream merrily trickled by, ignorant of human affairs.

  Clothes in hand, I headed to the edge of the stream and dunked them in the water. Brown ripples swirled in the stream as the grime floated away. After I was done, I brushed the sand slowly off my ass.

  Just so he knew what he was missing.

  I held out the clothes behind me, not looking back. “Hang these up.”

  Roark cleared his throat and coughed, but honored my request. I slipped into the stream and stripped naked. Dipping below the surface so that only my head was visible, I watched him return to the shoreline.

  He rubbed the stubble on his jaw as I scrubbed at my dirty arms. The water did have a restorative effect, like a nice massage. We stared at each other silently for a long time. Finally, with a spare moment to talk, we had nothing to say.

  Finally, I said, “See what you missed?”

  Roark took an extra beat to answer. “I can’t see much.”

  I stuck my tongue out. “Good.”

  He sighed, leaning back into the sand. “You know, it’s funny.”

  “I didn’t find last night funny.”

  “You get so close to getting what you always wanted,” Roark said. “And then you shoot yourself in the foot.”