by Keri Arthur
I snorted softly. “I think you’re well past the point of worrying about karma.”
“That is more than possible, given once I have the final key in my possession, the kingdom of hell is mine to fully control. Karma will be of little concern once that happens.”
“If you think karma and the fates will idly sit back and watch you destroy two worlds,” Azriel said, his voice as flat as his expression, and all the more scary because of it. Or it would be to the sane, and I had a suspicion Lauren or Mike or whatever the hell his/her real name was had passed that point long ago. “Then you have very little understanding of the forces you seek to control.”
Mike glanced at him. “Given the lack of intervention by either party so far, I think I’m justified in believing they no longer care what happens in my world or yours.”
“And in that, you’d also be wrong,” I said, drawing his attention back to me. The last thing we needed right now was him noticing that Valdis had slid several feet closer to the cage that bound Azriel. “But that is beside the point. If you don’t intend to kill us, what do you intend? Because we both know that only death will put an end to our attempts to stop you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, death is your outcome; have no doubt of that. But it will not come from my hand—not directly. Rather, the magic of this place will restrain and drain you both, until there is nothing left of either of you but memories and regret.”
I suspected it wouldn’t take us all that long to reach that point—not if the cold cruelty in his eyes was anything to go by. God, why hadn’t I seen what this man truly was before now?
Why hadn’t Mom?
It was a question I was never going to get an answer to. Mom had moved on and, in many ways, that was precisely what I had to do. There was no point in dwelling on what-ifs; all that mattered now was stopping this bastard.
“But we have not reached that point yet,” he continued. “We have a key to find first.”
“Sorry, but there’s nothing you can say or do that will make me hand that damn key over to you when I get it.”
“And that is where you are yet again wrong.” He walked toward me, his strides long and assured. “Just as Lucian taught me how to cage and kill a dark angel, so, too, did he teach me how to control the mind of someone like you.”
Lucian. It seemed we were never going to be free of that bastard’s shadow. “I blew him to little tiny pieces, you know. I fully intend to do the same to you.”
Mike laughed, but it was a short, sharp sound of anger. “Oh, I know very well what you did to him. It is only the promise to your mother that controls the dark urge to inflict the same on you.”
So he was more than happy to destroy two worlds in his attempt for domination of all, but unwilling to break something as fragile as a promise? How in hell did that make any sense? It didn’t, at least to the sane mind—and that wasn’t what we were dealing with here.
He stopped directly in front of me. Only two feet and the weight of the magic separated us, but it might as well have been a mile. I could barely move, let alone do so with any sort of speed. And even if I could, there was still the circle of candles to contend with. It was undoubtedly some form of barrier—he wouldn’t be standing so confidently close otherwise—and until it was down, I had no choice but to bide my time.
Waiting, Amaya growled. Sucks.
Amusement ran through me, but it quickly died as Mike raised his hands. Power surged across the night and the candles shivered in response. A heartbeat later, a muddy yellow arc of lightning shot from one candle to the next, until all of them were connected by that thin sliver.
This wasn’t blood magic.
This was Aedh.
Doubt crept through me. Amaya might be confident that our joining forces would negate any magic designed to control me, but I still wasn’t so sure. But it wasn’t like I had any other option now. I mentally crossed my fingers and said, “Lucian was running his own game; if you think he’d hand over the means of controlling him as much as me, then you are a fool.”
“Which I’m not, and neither was he.”
His reply was absent. He was still weaving his magic, and the thrust of it was beginning to burn around me. Through me. Its touch was unclean and made me want to scratch—something I couldn’t do because the weight of magic was so fierce I was barely able to remain on my hands and knees. Moving one hand would tip the balance and have me face-planting into the stone.
“Which doesn’t negate the fact that Lucian trusted no one.” I risked a quick glance toward Azriel. Valdis was almost within his reach. “Not after my father’s betrayal of him.”
“He trusted me. He loved me.”
I snorted. “Now I know you’re crazy. Lucian was Aedh. They’re incapable of loving anyone or anything other than their own schemes and plans.”
Anger flared in Mike’s pale eyes and found an echo in the sudden tightening of the magic that pressed down on me. I grunted under the force of it and my arms began to shake. I had to hope that whatever spell he was forming would be done sooner rather than later. I didn’t want to end up getting squashed flat against the stone, and right now that was a very real possibility.
Movement caught my eye; it was short, sharp, and gone in a nanosecond. I glanced in Azriel’s direction. He sat still and calm in the middle of his cage, his face as impassive as ever. But his eyes glowed with a fierceness that was frightening, and the force of his fury was such that even with our connection shut down, I could feel the burn of it. He wanted action. He wanted revenge. He could do neither until the cage around him had been destroyed.
Valdis no longer sat on the stones in front of the cage.
Relief ran through me, but it was tempered by the fact that we were a long way from being safe yet. But at least now that he was armed, Azriel had a fighting chance of survival.
“Which only proves how very little you knew about him.”
Mike’s sudden comment made me jump. I returned my attention and tried to shake my head. Even that was restricted. “I knew Lucian well enough to understand he was a megalomaniac whose desires far outstripped his abilities. He was an apprentice, not a master, Mike. What he taught you was nothing compared to what my father has taught me.”
He snorted and made more grand gestures. The sickly colored lightning grew stronger, and fingers of power shot toward me. I tried to edge away from them, but the weight bearing down on me forbade any sort of movement. The tension within me grew, as did Amaya’s howling. Her need to taste his soul was becoming so fierce it beat through my blood and made me hunger. I was still in control, but I had to wonder for how long.
“Your father only came into your life when he needed the keys found,” Mike said. “Do not try to bluff, dear Risa. You are not very good at it. Now, please, be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
“Oh good. I’ll keep talking, then.”
Again anger flashed, and again the weight pressing down on me increased. I hissed as sweat began to drip off my chin and splashed down onto the stone beneath me.
“Sorry, Mike,” I said, my voice little more than a harsh whisper—and even that was a goddamn effort. “But if you expect me to give up so fucking easily, then you really don’t know me, despite all those years you spent worming your way into both Mom’s life and mine.”
“You really are getting annoying,” Mike growled, then added, the note of command back in his voice, “and you will be quiet.”
I fell silent, though not because his magic forced me to do so. The weight of it might be making it hard to remain on my hands and knees—hell, it was becoming difficult to even think and breathe—but it hadn’t yet gained the power to force me to obey. I hoped that was a sign Amaya was right, that our joining would negate whatever spell he was about to weave around us.
He began to murmur, but the language wasn’t one I was familiar with. I wondered if it was Aedh, wondered what the hell Lucian was thinking, giving a madman access to that sort of power. But then, he’d obvi
ously foreseen his own death, if not the method—his begetting children on both Lauren and Ilianna was evidence enough of that—and maybe this was his last throw of the dice. A means of getting what he wanted through someone else.
Someone who carried his child.
I wondered whether Mike—Lauren—had been aware of that fact before I’d mentioned it. His vehement denial had been believable, but I remembered the odd glimmer that could have been smugness, or even satisfaction.
So perhaps Mike did know. Perhaps he was hoping for a son or daughter who—as half Aedh—would be far more powerful than he could ever hope to be.
It was a scary thought.
The lightning began to flicker and moan, the sound haunting, tortured. Something began to form in the sickly light that surged between the candles, something that was at first featureless and formless, but gradually gained shape, until it became vaguely humanoid.
Soul, Amaya growled.
I frowned. A soul? Why would Mike be calling a soul into existence?
From hell, she said. Control it he can.
Realization dawned. He was going to insert the soul into me. Fuck! Is there any way to stop it?
The last thing I wanted was that foul creature getting anywhere near me, let alone becoming part of me. Besides, this wasn’t the sort of spell I’d been expecting, and I had no desire to find out whether we’d be able to combat it.
Can devour, she said. But inside it must be.
But if it gets inside, won’t it gain control?
Only if stronger than two, she said. Will shield.
It was a risk. A huge risk. I glanced at Azriel; though his face remained impassive, the muscle along his jaw ticked and there was real fear in his eyes. He knew what this thing was, knew what it could do, and that made me even more frightened.
Then shield. And I mentally crossed everything I had that this would work.
Power surged through me, and just for a moment, my skin seemed to glow a rich, violet hue. Thankfully, Mike didn’t appear to notice. His chanting reached a peak, then stopped, and the following silence was filled with eerie expectation.
“I am sorry to have to do this, my dear,” he said, sounding anything but, “but I cannot risk allowing you to walk free from this place without some means of controlling you.”
I met his gaze and had no doubt the hate I felt was evident in my expression.
He raised an eyebrow and added, “And that is why. You would kill me—or, at least, destroy the key before you ever gave it to me. Unfortunately, because of the wards you now wear, I cannot spell you, which forces my hand somewhat. But don’t worry, it won’t consume you, not entirely. You will merely be a passenger in your own body. It won’t even be that painful.”
Like fuck it wouldn’t. But once again I bit back the comment. Amaya had no such restraint, but at least she kept it internal.
The soul broke away from the lightning and drifted toward me. I tried to edge away from it, but my hands and knees were locked to the stone thanks to the weight still pressing down on me. All I could do was watch as the gossamer wisp raised an almost fingerless hand and ran it down my face.
It felt like I was being caressed by fire and brimstone. It felt like hell itself.
A scream rose in my throat, but I somehow clamped down on it. I couldn’t scream; it would warn Mike that his spells weren’t working as well as he thought. The soul’s touch moved on. My skin crawled in horror and the sweat that beaded my body froze in place—which would have seemed odd except for the fact that everyone’s version of hell was different. For some it was icy, for some it was heat, and for others it was an endless pit of torture and pain. Perhaps this soul was trying a combination of all three to see which affected me the most.
It continued to flow over me until its fragile form covered me entirely. I wanted to twist and scream and swat it away—wanted to feel the steel of my sword in my hands and watch it destroy whatever life this thing had—but I did none of those things. The barrier was still in place, as was the weight of magic against my body. Until both of them were gone, I couldn’t react.
No matter what happened, no matter how bad it got.
Mike was adept at both blood magic and Aedh and could bring the force of both against us. Besides, I had no idea just what that cage would do to Azriel if I revealed my hand too soon.
My one chance—Azriel’s one chance—was surprise.
The soul began to seep into my skin. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and the horror increased, making me gag.
But as the soul leached into me, the lilac fire that was both Amaya and her sword came to life within. It latched onto the flimsy filaments, preventing them from going deeper into my body even as it consumed and destroyed them. The soul began to moan and twist, an eerie sound that echoed both through me and through the cavern itself. But it couldn’t get away. My sword—and the demon that controlled it—ensured that.
But the conjured soul was merely an appetizer. The real meal still stood before us.
And he was smiling in satisfaction. No doubt he’d mistaken the soul’s dying moans for my capitulation. I didn’t move, didn’t react in any way, trying to make it seem like the life within me was gone and that his conjured soul was now in residence—or, at the very least, in control.
After several minutes, he made a quick, chopping motion with one hand and said something I didn’t quite catch, and the weight abruptly lifted from my shoulders. Excitement stirred, mine and Amaya’s, but we didn’t move. The endgame was close, but the candles still stood between us and ultimate victory.
“Rise, dear Risa,” he said, making an up motion with his hand.
Slowly, stiffly, I obeyed. My legs were decidedly unsteady, and I wasn’t sure whether it was due to the sudden release from the weight or the fact that Azriel was still drawing on my strength.
Either way, unsteadiness wasn’t something I needed, given that when we moved, we’d have to do so fast. I took several slow, deep breaths and flexed fingers itching with the need to feel steel and blood on them.
His expression was a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “I can see you in there, Risa. The hate”—he paused and tsked—“no one so young should feel such an emotion so deeply. It is not good for the soul.”
Eat him, Amaya muttered. Good for my soul.
Just consume him slowly, I bit back. The bastard deserves pain. Lots of pain.
Then blow apart not, she said. Can’t eat bits.
Oh, I wouldn’t be blowing him apart. He didn’t deserve to die that quickly.
Now think like demon. Better.
I snorted internally and continued to meet Mike’s gaze. After a moment, he walked to the left, moving around the circle until he was out of my immediate sight. My shoulder blades itched with awareness as he paused behind me, but I didn’t dare move in any way. He grunted, then walked on, until he reappeared on my right side.
“Right,” he said, stopping where he’d started. “This is how it works. You will find the key, Risa; the soul will monitor and control your actions, stopping anything that might be detrimental to the search. The minute you discover it, you will be brought back here.”
I remained mute, though it was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
He smiled and continued. “Of course, I cannot afford to have the search take forever, so please do remember that the cage will continue to drain your reaper until you return with the key.” He half shrugged. “I believe he has, oh, maybe three or four hours before the situation becomes critical.”
Amaya screamed in fury, the sound so loud inside my head it felt like she was physically stabbing my brain. My eyes watered and a tear began to roll down my cheek.
“Now, now,” Mike murmured, “it won’t be that bad. Not if you hurry.”
Bastard, I silently intoned. Bastard, bastard, bastard!
“The exit lies to your right.” He made another motion with his hand. Light flared across the shadows to my right, revealing
an archway roughly cut into the cavern’s stone wall. “It will take you to an old munitions tunnel that was missed when this estate was being changed from a military base, and into the industrial estate itself. You will immediately begin the search for the key and will not stop until you find it. Is that clear? Nod if that is clear.”
I nodded. His satisfied smile grew. God, I so wanted to smash it away . . .
“Then let’s get this show under way.”
Yes, let’s, Amaya all but purred. Sword ready.
Even as she spoke, energy stirred, a heat that pressed against my skin, eager to get out. She was back in her sword and ready to go, and it took every ounce of will I had not to move, to remain where I was, still and silent. Mike raised both hands and began to chant. One by one, the candles in the circle that contained me went out, until there was absolutely nothing standing between me and him.
Now, I said, and leapt forward.
The sword materialized from my body and leapt into my hand. Mike’s eyes went wide, but he had no time and no chance to react. Amaya flamed, fierce and bright, quickly encasing him in a cage through which no magic could get in or out. And best of all, my hand was in his chest, my fingers around his heart.
Just as I’d promised.
I stopped, my face so close to his that I could feel the foul rasp of his breath against my cheeks. Sweat was beginning to bead his forehead, but there was fury in his eyes and incantations on his lips. I waited and watched as the realization dawned that my cage had rendered him as helpless as I’d been only moments before. The incantation became swearing. But he didn’t plead for his life, and there was hard light in his pale eyes.
“Kill me,” he spat, “and you kill the reaper.”
“Actually, no,” I replied evenly. “You see, that sword you had me throw away was his, not mine, and a reaper’s sword is designed to protect its master against all manner of evil. Including, I’m afraid, the sort of magic you’ve conjured with that cage.”