by Mary Ting
Copyright © Mary Ting 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Licensing Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews
Chapter 1
Ikelia
“Mom?”
I slowly lifted my head from between my knees.
My breath caught.
“Eli?” I whispered.
A figure appeared from the shadows. My heart pulsed mercilessly as I wished and hoped. Had my son—? No. No, he couldn’t be real.
“Mom. I’m here.” He placed his hand to his chest, his eyes glistening. His face…Eli’s face. His voice…so real. “I thought you were dead, but I’ve finally found you. How do I get you out?”
“Eli?” I crawled closer, surveying the solid-looking figure before me. Not a dream. A mirage? Had I begun to be delirious after so many months held captive? I wanted so much for my son to be standing before me. I’d hoped for this moment, but it didn’t make sense. “How did you find me?” My voice cracked and my hands trembled.
His height, his broad shoulders, and his expression were Eli, but the leather suit and black cloak didn’t seem quite right. I sniffed the air, the same cool air that bathed me day and night. I wanted to take in the scent of the being on the other side of the invisible barrier, but the sulfur-scented air only reminded me I couldn’t get out. And a part of me knew who really stood on the other side. I should have known better than to hope.
I cursed. “Mortem. You don’t fool me. I would know my own son, made of my own flesh and blood. I would feel his presence. Come inside my prison so I can tear you to pieces.”
I wanted to rip out his throat and heart, but before the kill, I would torture him slowly for all the heartache he had caused.
“You’re alive because Cyrus still loves you. It’s the only reason I haven’t killed you yet,” Mortem spat, transforming Eli’s body to his own.
“You’re alive because…” I glanced about. “…because I’m in this prison. One day when I’m out—and I will get out, mark my words—we’ll trade places.”
A circle of molten-red light about a foot off the ground illuminated the window between realms. I leaned closer and blew against the light. Flames blasted outward, concealing the prison around me. Had I tried to go across, I would have caught fire. I hissed when the fire cleared.
“Why are you still here? That was your cue to be gone, Mortem. You bore me.” I picked at fingernails caked with grime.
I had been digging with my fingers, trying to find anything, but found only dirt under my feet. No walls. No beginning and no end of my prison, nothing except for the glowing circle.
“Really?” He scowled, pressing the tip of his sword into the rocky ground. “You’ve been locked up a long time. Do you not crave company?”
“Not if the company is an idiot and no use to me.” I sat on the ground to get a better view outside of my prison.
It felt strange to peer down at Mortem. Where was I? Nothing where Mortem stood seemed familiar. Every so often the view changed as Cyrus moved my location, no doubt afraid someone would find me.
Nothing but inky basalt formed the cave, and golf-ball-sized eternal lights glowed from every small pocket. Immortals—angels and the Snow Queen herself—had gifted eternal lights to the world long ago, and they comforted me. The inside of my prison was no better. Though I had eternal lights to keep me company, there was nothing else.
Mortem shuffled his feet on the pebbled ground and curled his lips into a smirk. “I have your son. So who is the idiot now?”
I stopped scrutinizing the cave and glared hard at him, my nose almost touching the fiery light. “Liar. My son is…” I couldn’t say it. Cyrus had told me a girl with wings killed Eli, just as I had predicted.
My heart had shattered into a thousand pieces when he delivered that news. My son. The only joy I had after losing Eligor, the love of my life. I had nothing left, not even a sliver of hope. I wanted to die, but Cyrus made sure I stayed alive. I’d even thrown herself through the fiery light to take my own life, but Cyrus had healed me.
I almost died at Cyrus’s hands to protect my son. He had delivered a killing blow, but at the end, he changed his mind and took me with him before dumping me in an inter-dimensional prison. Love made beings do strange things, even sick monsters like Cyrus.
As long as I believed Eli was safe and living, my mind had been at ease and I could endure anything, even if I had to rot away in Cyrus's prison. But after I found out about Eli’s death, I didn’t care about living. I didn’t even ask for the details. I didn’t want to know. But Eli, my heart…the despair in my soul lifted.
“Cyrus told me Eli—he told me he was...” I had to be careful with my words. “You’re telling me he’s alive?”
Mortem inched closer, his feet crunching on pebbles. No fire flashed, but his gaze remained steady, as if he were in a world of his own. “So beautiful and fascinating, don’t you think? I wonder what would happen if I tried to go through. Would I be able to return, or would I be trapped forever with you? But of course Cyrus would find out. What would he do to me, or would he even care if I had my way with you?”
Crazy sick bastard.
I didn’t want to play mind games anymore, and I certainly didn’t want to be caged with him. “Mortem.” I raised my voice, sharp and commanding. “Tell me. Is my son alive? Did Cyrus lie to me?”
Mortem slowly met my eyes. “Cyrus always lies,” he said softly. Then anger flared in his eyes. “He treats me like I’m nobody. I’ve killed many and done magnificently horrible things in his service. I'm not burdened by regret or remorse. My body pulses with ecstasy when I taste my victims’ blood. How dare he choose your son over me? Me.” He pounded his fist on his chest. “Me.” He pounded harder, his eyes growing darker with rage. “I have been with him since the war began. His loyal servant, like a dog he could order around. Maybe it’s time I leave him and create my own army. I am his equal, and I bow to no one. I answer to no one.”
I couldn’t believe Mortem had laid such a perfect opportunity. I sat cross-legged with a softer expression. “Help me escape, and I’ll help you defeat Cyrus.”
Mortem’s eyes lit up with greed and vengeance. “Of course you would, pretty witch. But who’s to say you wouldn’t kill me the first chance you get?”
“You think so little of yourself, Mortem. And who’s to say you wouldn’t kill me? You're as clever as you are strong.” I loathed stroking his ego, but I’d do anything for my son. Even that.
Mortem rubbed his chin and paused to consider my words. “Fair enough. I’ll tell you this much. Eli is alive, but he’s bound to Cyrus.”
I released a quiet, shuddering breath and choked back tears, my eyes stinging. I had to stay calm and influence him before I lost my chance. Eli alive and bound to Cyrus was better than my son being dead. I could break the bond, somehow, but I couldn’t bring him back to life.
“Free my son. I’ll get him to work with us. He will listen to me. He thinks I’m dead, doesn’t he?”
Mortem nodded.
“Tell him,” I urged. “He’ll have something to fight for. Break the bond between them and get me out.”
When Mortem gazed at one of the eternal lights, I sensed his hesitation. I had to convince him. “Mortem. We’re on the same team.” I wished I were on the other side of the portal to beat some sense into him. But perhaps I woul
d have killed him instead.
“I will weigh the odds and get back to you.” He began walking away.
I wanted to shake him. Mortem was all talk. Coward. “Are my friends alive? Are they trapped like me? I heard rumors Cyrus held other prisoners in a realm like mine. How many prisoners does he have?”
Mortem glanced over his shoulder and said, “That’s a tale for another day, pretty witch.”
Damn him! I reminded myself Mortem could be playing me, trying to get information. But he hadn’t asked for any. And he’d never come to see me before. That meant something had changed.
“Mortem, tell my son I’m alive. At least do that for me. Please. Tell him I love him. Mortem…tell him.” My words grew louder with each sentence, only to be ignored. I stood up and called after him again, trying not to sound too desperate.
Mortem changed his form from Cyrus to Eli, Eli to Cyrus, Cyrus to Eli. The nerve of him, to taunt me in such a way. But finding out my son was alive was more than I’d hoped for. At last, Mortem faded into darkness and transformed into an evil swirl of mist to disappear.
“Eli.” I dropped to my knees and sobbed into my hands. All the built-up, overwhelming grief for my son, replaced by happiness that he lived, burst through my walls.
“Eli! My baby is alive. Come find me, Eli.”
Useless. He couldn’t hear me, even if I tried to use my magic to talk to him telepathically. My words would die within the walls. I learned early that the prison realm blocked my magical power. Even if he were inches from my prison, wherever I was, he couldn’t see me. The portal had been concealed by Cyrus’s magic, and only those he told where I was kept could see me.
Hope. I would hold onto it tightly.
Chapter 2
Jack
I woke up feeling weird, as if someone watched me while I slept. Maybe thoughts of my father had kept me restless. Just before bed, I’d thought I saw his spirit in my room. When the form disappeared, I realized something had opened my journal. No sounds of pages turning alerted me, just a strange sensation coursing through my body before I noticed it.
A warning perhaps. Or an intruder in my room. But not an intruder…my father. It had to be him. He had disappeared years before while he was surfing. The police closed the case, stating my father drowned. But I knew there was more.
After texting Lucia to let her know I was on the way, I opened my door. Gustavo stood in my way, with Lucky wagging his tail beside my little brother.
“I want to learn to fight like you.” He held one of the Knights Templar swords, his eyes intense with determination.
“Put that back.” I scowled and pointed to the open glass case.
“No.” His nostrils flared. Lucky barked once in response.
My face heated and I snapped, “Goose, put that back, or I’m going to make you.”
I didn’t care if I sounded childish. He knew better than to play with the Knights Templar sword.
Gustavo took several steps back, holding up the sword as if to protect himself as I moved forward. “I’m just like you. I want to fight. I want to kill the demons.”
“Gustavo.” My grandmother strolled from the kitchen. Her silver, braided hair—not a strand out of place—hung over her shoulder. She wore a long blue dress with a white orchid print. “Put that back right now.” Her voice was calm but stern. “If you take it out of the case without my permission again, I’m going to hide it from you.”
“But, Grandma—” Goose began to whine, his angry expression softening. Grandma had a way of making you feel like a child when she spoke.
“No, no, no” She shook her index finger with narrowed eyes. “No buts. The war is not for little boys.”
Goose stomped toward the back of the family room, placed the sword back into its holder, and shut the case with a rattle and a thump. I bristled, thinking the glass door was going to shatter.
Goose crossed his arms and said with conviction, “Dad told me war is coming.”
“What do you mean, child?” Grandma gripped Goose’s elbow and led him to the sofa. Her voice softened with concern. “Your father…he’s not with us in the living. What did you see?”
“It was Dad,” Goose stated, sounding upset, his hazel eyes darting from Grandma to me. “He told me to get ready to fight.” His voice rose with each word.
I scrubbed my face and pinched the center of my nose. Shaking my head, I found my calm voice. “You had a dream, Goose. That’s all it was.”
He tightened his fists like rocks, his little muscles bulging. His face flushed, and he puffed out his cheeks. “It. Wasn’t. A. Dream.” He stressed each word. “He’s coming back, and when he comes back, then you’ll see.”
I had never seen Goose so upset before. He seemed to be almost in tears. Goose was only eight years old. Perhaps his dreams were vivid. Or maybe he did see my dad, just as I thought I saw his ghost. Did I hallucinate, or did we both see something real? After all, I was on my way to Lucia’s house to tell her what I’d seen, to tell her I thought my father was alive, or at least some part of him remained in the living. So, why didn’t I believe Goose? Surely he wouldn’t make up such a thing. Icy chills waved through my body as I thought over Goose’s claim.
Grandma cupped her hands on Goose’s face and snuck a glance at me with a twitch of her eyebrow to demand I play along. “All right, Goose. It’s okay. I believe you. Next time, you tell your father we all want to see him. We have the right to know what happened to him, okay?”
Goose wiped drops of tears, lingering at the corner of his eyes, and adjusted his glasses. “Okay, Grandma.”
Damn those tears. He actually made me feel bad for doubting him.
“Where’s Mom?” he whimpered.
I tilted my head toward Mother’s room. “She’s probably asleep. She worked the night shift.”
Goose dipped his head and relaxed his shoulders.
“Come. Help me bake a pie for Lucia,” Grandma said.
Goose’s eyes lit up, and he stepped beside her. Knowing he was in good hands, I dashed out the door.
Brody
I opened my bedroom door. Startled, I jerked back. “Uh, Dad? You…”
“Can we talk?” he asked, but it sounded more like a demand.
“Sure. Come in.” Leaning against the wall, I waited for him to sit on my bed.
“Listen, son.” He raked his hair back with his hands and let out a long sigh. “We didn’t get to talk much last night, but I want you to know I meant every word I said.”
“I know you did, Dad. I get it. Cyrus killed a bunch of your friends.”
His head drooped low as if he felt ashamed, and then he met my eyes. “We surrendered to give peace to our children, so that our future wouldn’t die. So few of us remained. We were afraid of what Cyrus might do to our children if we decided to fight to the end.” He paused to collect himself. “I don’t know where you go when you skip school, but I assume you’re with Davin. The responsibility shouldn’t have to fall upon the children.” He patted my shoulder, looking proudly at me. “It’s time we all care about our future. It’s time we stand up to Cyrus and stop being such cowards. Children shouldn’t die before their parents. They do not sacrifice themselves so we may live. A group of us are training today after work. We’re meeting at our house. And I know this little group will grow once the word gets out. So many children have vanished, and we have closed our eyes. Enough is enough. It’s time to put an end to this madness.”
I gazed at my dad’s sideburns, streaked in white, and the faint wrinkles on his forehead. “I don’t think you’re a coward. I never thought that. You’ve been through war, protecting all of us. I’m proud of you, Dad, for standing up against Cyrus before. And I’m just as proud that you’re gathering others to stand up. It takes a courageous soul to be a leader.”
My dad smiled broadly. “Thank you, son. Your respect means a lot to me. You shared with my friends last night, but I know you held back. Now, tell me everything. What you saw or heard. Wha
t your friends have found. I need to keep my team up to date so we know what we are up against.”
My father is half Lamia and half human, and my mother is half Elementa and human. I am more Lamia than Elementa, but I wondered about my sister, Baylee. I parted my lips to speak, but stopped when a head popped around the door. As if on cue, she walked in.
“The door is open, so I can come in.” Baylee’s green eyes widened, waiting for my response. She looked so adorable with her two pigtails, but not so adorable when she crossed her arms and leaned her hip sideways with a brazen attitude—she reminded me of Milani. Yup, she was definitely more Elementa.
“Fine, but you’ll be bored.” I shrugged. “We’re talking about boy stuff.”
Baylee arched her eyebrows and grimaced. “No thanks, I’ll come back.”
Good. I glanced at my phone on my desk to note the time. It would take me about fifteen minutes to get to Lucia’s house, so I had ten minutes to spare. When Baylee left the room, I shut my door and told Dad everything, things I had left out the night before. At last, I told him about the edelweiss flowers on my desk.
My dad rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know what to tell you, son, but I’ll ask around. Maybe someone in our community might have a clue. Besides Lana, Jack’s grandmother, there are others who grow edelweiss flowers. They’re a challenge here since they grow better in the cold weather, but some people do manage to grow them for candles and other things to ward off demons.”
“Thank you,” I said. I glanced at my phone again and explained to my dad where I had to go and who I planned to meet. “Dad, before I go, I have to tell you one important thing you need to stress to others. Cyrus plans to erupt the biggest volcano in the islands. There will be nothing left on our island if we don’t stop him.”
My dad simply nodded, but his eyes changed from green to glowing amber.
Chapter 3
Milani
Too overwhelmed with my mother’s journal, I closed the book and drank the rest of my hot tea. I had been sitting on the dining table learning new spells, but some seemed too complicated. I would have never guessed Ikelia and my mother followed Jacques de Molay and wrote the necessary clues to retrieve the missing pages. Mind blowing.