by Kyra Quinn
I reached up and snatched the bottle of ambrosia from Remiel’s hands. After a generous swig, my voice turned to ice. “If Osius doesn’t strip the shadows from my soul, the demons and angels will never stop coming for me. More people will die. You could die.”
“If we give it more time—”
“We are out of time. If an easier solution existed, we would have taken it. But there is nothing simple any of this, and there is no easy way out. My only hope is if Aster can coerce Osius into removing the demon side of my soul. No risk, no reward.”
Remiel grabbed the bottle out of my hands as he shook his head. He opened his mouth to continue the debate, but the doors behind him opened at the same time. We both whirled around to find Viktor and Aster in the doorway. Whatever fashionable garments Aster left the house in had disappeared beneath layers of caked-on dirt. Mud covered their bodies from head to toe; only their eyes had been wiped clean.
“What happened to you?” Remiel asked.
“Don’t ask.” Viktor stormed into the room, the sword of flames in one hand. A severed head the size of his torso dangled from the other, the hair wrapped around his clenched fist.
I squealed. “Gross! Son of Cimera, what is that thing?”
“Ingredients.” Aster trudged into the room behind Viktor with a scowl. She tugged her cloak from her shoulders and tossed it onto the floor with a thud, the fabric at least a few pounds heavier with mud. “He put up a struggle, but we got him.”
All feelings of jealousy melted away as I stared into the creature’s lifeless eyes. A split tongue dangled from his parted lips. The stench of decay permeated the room. My stomach lurched as I said a small prayer of gratitude I hadn’t had to take part.
“Set it by the altar.” Aster pointed to the floor. “I will begin preparations as soon as I’ve cleaned up.”
I tapped my fingertips against my arm. “Is there anything I can do to help move things along?”
“So eager to meet your doom.” Remiel gave a low whistle.
“Silence, angel.” Fire flashed through Aster’s eyes. “Viktor and I came seconds away from ending up a Shadowfey snack while you sat here on your ass and drank all my booze. I’ll be damned if I will listen to you criticize a plan you have not lifted a finger towards helping.”
“You appear to need no help in dying. You are doing a fine job of it all on your own.”
Aster marched over to Remiel until they stood toe-to-toe. She glared up at him and jabbed a pointed finger into his chest. “Listen here, Mr. Know-it-All. No one likes criticism unless it’s constructive. If you have a suggestion on how we can do this better, wonderful. Throw it out and we will discuss it. But if you make one more negative remark without a suggestion for improvement attached, we will toss you out and keep your shifter. Got it?”
The set of Remiel’s jaw suggested he wanted to argue, but he gave a curt nod. “Fine. I shall do the best I can to keep my mouth shut and manage the conflicts as they arise.”
Aster took a step back, but her eyes still swept over him with suspicion. “Thank you. Now, if no one else has anything to add, I’d like to scrub the seven layers of dirt caked onto my skin.”
Aster stormed out of the room without waiting for a response. Viktor’s eyes darted between me and Remiel, his posture tense. Dried mud covered most of his flesh, his black tee-shirt torn down the center.
“Still think we made the right choice?” Remiel asked. He folded his arms over his chest.
A hysterical laugh bubbled from Viktor’s lips, his eyes wild. “Honestly? I have no idea. But I would befriend Zanox himself if it brought me closer to the end of this nightmare.”
I suspected exhaustion influenced Viktor’s answer, but the words concerned me. I swallowed back the urge to ask Viktor if I was the nightmare he wanted to escape.
We didn’t have time to waste on senseless bickering or emotions. Personal conflicts had to wait until after we’d summoned Osius. Remiel’s opinion aside, summoning the God of Judgment posed our best chance at achieving redemption. I sucked in a deep breath and prayed we might catch the god in a benevolent mood.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips. “Okay. Let’s see what we can do to assist Aster with her preparations while we wait.”
* * *
Much to my chagrin, Aster and Viktor took turns washing the dirt and blood from their skin before performing the spell to summon Osius. A nervous energy filled my body until my limbs trembled. I paced a hole in Aster’s floor and twiddled my thumbs as I waited, each second like an eternity. When they both returned, the last of my confidence deflated like a balloon in my chest.
Aster stood in front of the altar and placed her palms together in front of her chest. “Is everyone ready?”
I froze. My heart hammered against my ribcage. I waited for Remiel to object, but his lips remained pressed together in a thin line. Viktor’s eyes lit up with excitement, leaving me alone with my uncertainty. What if Remiel was right all along?
Aster took the collective silence as agreement. “Wonderful. Viktor, grab the blood so I can paint the trap. Remiel, I need you to get in position with your sword. There is no guarantee this will be strong enough to hold him. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves.”
“My sword is one of the most powerful in history, but it lacks the strength to kill a god,” Remiel said as Viktor scurried towards the altar.
“I am aware. I didn’t ask you to kill him. I need you to slow him down long enough for me to.”
Remiel grumbled, but he kept whatever snide remark he had to himself. He drew his sword and marched across the room to post himself up by the door. Viktor returned with a tin bucket and a thick brush, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
Aster grinned as she reached for the brush. “I will paint the sigil if you hold the bucket. These things are tricky. A single line out of place can render the entire trap ineffective.”
“Be my guest,” Viktor said. “I’ve never wondered what it would be like to paint the floor in human girl blood.”
I jerked upright. “I beg your pardon?”
Aster shrugged. “Spells have particular requirements and ingredients. The stronger the magic, the harder the ingredients are to come by. Since these spells are so old, a lot of them are archaic. This one asks for the blood of a passive virgin. Ridiculous, right? Chastity hasn’t mattered to anyone in decades.”
Perhaps not in Carramar. The Temple in Faomere still marketed women’s purity as a mysterious prize a man won when he earned her hand. A woman without virginity to offer had little chance of finding a suitable partner for marriage.
“So you killed someone?” Remiel’s nose crinkled. “That is repulsive, human or Feyfolk.”
“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Viktor folded his arms over his chest. “The amount of blood the spell required would be lethal for any human. Virgins are a rare commodity these days. It took hours to find one.”
“Who was she?” My stomach knotted. I had expected no one to die for our cause. I didn’t intend to trade other lives for my own.
“One of the Sisters of Salvation from the temple in Faomere,” Aster confessed. “We searched Carramar up and down before realizing the only virgins left were children and those who live a life of service to the gods.”
I tried to imagine what the woman must have looked like, the fear in her eyes when she realized they meant to kill her. A heaviness settled into my chest. We hadn’t performed a single spell, but I already had blood on my hands.
I chewed my lip. Aster painted a five-foot circle in the floor’s center. She painted a crescent moon to the left of the circle, a triangle and strange lines through the center. A five-sided star ended up on the left, several runes I didn’t recognize on the right. At first glance, the jumble of images resembled little more than random chaos.
“There.” Aster rose to her feet with a satisfied sigh. “According to the book, this should do the trick. If none of the lines get broken, the moment we throw the match he will remain t
rapped until we release him.”
“Match?” I arched a brow. I didn’t have a lot of expertise in bodily fluids, but I’d never heard of blood being flammable.
Aster waved my concerns away with a flick of her wrist. “Viktor’s been briefed on what to do.”
A sharp pang of jealousy shot through my chest, my blood hot. The way Aster said his name made my stomach contract. How had they become so close after one afternoon away? It didn’t seem fair to resent them for it. I should have rejoiced in the deepening of our party’s bonds. But as I thought about the way his name sounded coming from her perfect lips, a nauseous pain overtook me.
“Can we start now?” I asked, my tone sharper than I’d intended.
Aster’s eyes widened. “Yes, I suppose we’re ready. Lili, stand behind the angel.”
“We need all the advantages we can find. It might help if we can catch him off guard,” Viktor agreed.
A small, petty part of me wanted to refuse. But I bit my tongue and stomped over to where Remiel stood. We exchanged heated glares before I took my place behind his broad frame and leaned against the wall. On the bright side, at least no one could see me sulk.
Aster took her place in front of the altar, Viktor poised and ready behind her. He gripped a pointed dagger in each hand, his face stone as he waited for Aster to begin.
She poured what remained of the virgin blood into the heavy cauldron first. A handful of flowers and weeds followed. She unscrewed a jade bottle and poured the entire clear liquid next, a vial of black goo right behind. Aster buzzed around the concoction like a chef at work, the room thick with tension. She grunted as she and Viktor lifted the massive severed head from the floor and chucked it into the brew. The Shadowfey skull landed against the metal with a sick splash, the contents of the cauldron now just beneath the rim.
Aster reached for the jagged knife on the table. She sliced a thin line into her arm and held it over the vessel, the room silent except for the drip of her blood onto the dead creature’s face. When she seemed satisfied she’d drained herself enough, she brought her other arm to hover over the rim. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back, a guttural sound vibrating her throat. Her mouth opened as a flood of foreign words poured out, her voice deeper and raspier. A shiver ran down my spine as I pressed my back against the wall. Compared to the image before me, the carnival felt like child‘s play.
A crack of thunder vibrated the floor beneath my feet. Lightning flashed outside the window as the wind howled. The candles extinguished all at once; the room plunged into sudden darkness. My gut clenched as I swallowed back the urge to scream. The others needed me to show strength now more than ever before.
“Lights!” Aster shouted. The candles scattered around the room flickered to life once more, an intimate glow cast over the room. I opened my mouth to ask if we’d failed when the words died on the tip of my tongue. Aster struck a match and tossed it into the center of the floor. A tall ring of fire enveloped the floor, orange and blue flames bathing the room in light.
I could not describe the figure in the circle’s center of flames as a man. Molten fire and shimmering onyx rock took the place of flesh, his eyes two open holes of fire. A pair of sharp horns sat on the top of his head, sharp claws in place of his fingers. His face was empty except for the hauntingly large eyes, no nostrils or mouth in sight. My heart fluttered. Had we summoned a god, or a demon?
“Goddess help us,” Remiel said under his breath. I couldn’t see his face, but the tone of his voice suggested his emotions matched mine.
“You dare to summon me?” the creature’s voice filled my thoughts. I gripped the side of my head, but it did nothing to drown out the snarl of his voice. “Fools. I will rip you all limb from limb and feed your flesh to the shadows.”
Aster stepped out from behind the altar to stand next to Viktor. When she spoke, I wanted to rip the confidence from her voice and consume it. “Help us, and we will let you leave unharmed.”
Osius laughed, the sound rattling the windows. “Your feeble magic tricks are no threat, girl. We created the powers you exploited for this stunt. Your spells can do me no harm.”
“Are you sure about that?” Aster lifted the book from the table. “From what I read in this passage in front of me, all I need to end your life is a blade of purified steel dipped in the blood of an angel. Those blades are pure steel, and the guy in the back with a sword happens to be an angel.”
Osius regarded Remiel with disgust. “Not anymore. This man’s blood is no more holy than yours, witch.”
“We also have her. Lili, come and meet our new friend.”
I froze, my feet rooted into the ground below. My lungs burned for air as I tried to swallow the lump of panic in my throat. My knees felt like rubber as I stepped out from around Remiel and towards the altar.
Osius’s eyes burned with rage the moment he spotted me. “The camphelem! What blasphemy is this?”
My voice shook as I scowled. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance.”
“Do not address me, scum.” Osius hissed. “You are not fit to breathe the same oxygen, let alone speak. Release me from these bonds and I might let one of you leave here alive.”
“Not until you agree to assist us.” Aster took a few steps closer to the molten god, her arms folded over her chest. “You are the only one in existence who can, or we wouldn’t have gone to such drastic lengths to obtain your attention.”
“I care not for the feeble problems of humanity.” Osius snarled. “I will not ask you to release me again.”
“The fate of your universe depends on this.” Viktor marched over to stand behind Aster, his eyes locked on Osius. “One of your angels went against the code and created this problem. You should thank us for cleaning up the mess.”
Viktor’s words landed like a punch to my stomach. A dull ache spread through my chest. I knew better than to consider us friends, but that didn’t make it hurt any less to hear what a problem for the universe my existence posed.
“Your mess is not my problem, mutt. What is it you want from me?”
“We want you to help us remove the corrupted parts of her soul,” Aster said. “We’d like you to grant us absolution.”
Osius snickered. “And why would you think I control the absolution of your souls?”
“Don’t play daft with me,” Aster snapped. “Angel in our back pocket, remember? Not to mention centuries of lore. We know who you are and what you do, God of Judgment. You are the only one with any influence over a soul’s purity.”
Osius rubbed his chin. “I see you’ve done your research, witch. Let’s entertain your idea for a moment. Say I agreed to help you. What’s in it for me? The fate of your world holds little motivation. I have hundreds of worlds, most far better than Astryae. Gods don’t mourn when weaker worlds burn out. It is the natural order of things.”
My voice quivered. “What do you want?”
The god pursed his lips. “Hmmm. Interesting question.”
My body chilled. A silence thick enough to choke me hung over the room. Remiel’s grasp around his sword tightened. Viktor stood tense and ready to pounce next to the cauldron of herbs and guts. Aster folded her arms over her chest and jutted her chin as if to dare Osius to deny her.
Osius squinted his eyes. “All right. Let us test your worth. You four will perform a favor of equal value. Should you survive, I will help with your purity problems.”
“What’s the job?” Viktor folded his arms over his chest.
Osius smirked. “One of the Garden’s most potent weapons was stolen a while back.”
“The Scythe of Souls?” Remiel asked. “But no one has seen the Scythe in centuries.”
“Wrong. We know where it is. Have since the day they stole it. We’ve just never had the means to retrieve it.”
“Where is it?” Viktor cocked his head. “The bottom of an ocean?”
Osius chuckled. “Worse. If you want my help, you’ll recover my scythe from the Shadowrealm.”<
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Deal with Death
“This is a trap.” Remiel paced around Aster’s bedroom, his spine rigid. “Tell me you are wise enough to see that.”
Osius remained trapped by Aster’s spell downstairs. We’d tried to put as much space between us and the cold, calculating god as possible, but the hairs on the back of my neck still stood upright. Remiel and the others argued in the background. Their voices echoed as if they were far away. My mind stayed stuck on Osius and the temptation of his mysterious offer to help. Could we trust a god to keep his word? If I found his stupid scythe, would he wipe away the shadows from my soul?
“What is the Shadowrealm?” I asked after a while, indifferent to what conversation I might interrupt. “What’s the big deal about going there?”
The others exchanged looks I couldn’t quite read as the room fell silent. Viktor’s jaw twitched as he glared at me. I matched him with an icy stare of my own and folded my arms over my chest. His brooding wouldn’t intimidate me after all I’d seen.
“There are two versions of the afterlife, places souls go when they die,” Remiel explained as if speaking to a small child. “The simplest way to think of it is a good place, and a bad place. The Elysian Gardens accept only the purest of souls, people who live honest lives in service to the gods. Everyone else…”
My stomach twisted. “They go to this Shadowrealm?”
Viktor nodded. “There are varying rumors about what happens to the souls from there. Some say they’re enslaved and forced to work for all eternity. Others say they’re ground into dust and used for energy. The faeries think Zanox eats them.”