Sera glanced over her shoulder. The infinity cliffs where she’d been stuck were thin outlines in the distance. Veering across the bloody sea, she continued toward the rise of another landmass. Every so often, an arm would rise from the liquid below her as though begging for release, but there was nothing she could do. Those souls were meant to be here. It was not her place to absolve them of whatever sins had brought them to Xibalba. But she felt the ache of leaving them in her marrow.
Her resolve almost broke when the face of a child thrust above the surface. The boy couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. Nate’s age. What could he possibly have done to be condemned to such suffering?
“Please,” he cried, his plea pitiful and terrified. “Save me, Serjana Maa.”
Mother Serjana.
Maybe the boy was in the wrong place. Surely he wasn’t meant to be in Xibalba. Sera felt her flight falter and she halted in midair before descending, the tips of her wings making ripples on the suddenly flat surface of the red sea. The boy held up an arm and Sera reached down at the same moment.
If she had hesitated, the creature rising from the depths would have swallowed her, but she saw the shadow and churn out of the corner of her eye and bolted upward. An enormous beast leapt up, its serrated teeth snapping at her heels. The child smiled and Sera belatedly realized that it wasn’t a child at all.
Of course it wasn’t.
Barbed tentacles shot toward her, one catching the end of her ankle, and she screamed. It burned like acid. She swerved up, trying to dislodge the thing’s hold, but the jellied tentacle only burrowed more deeply into her skin. The rakshasa hauled her down toward the roiling ocean, a thousand greedy maws opening wide with the promise of fresh blood a hairsbreadth away.
Her wings ached from trying to propel her body upward. Each time she gained an inch, the demon dragged her down two more. Its monstrous eyes studied her, cool and calm, and Sera realized that in some way she was being measured. The rakshasa had to be a servant of the Demon Lord of this dimension. She could sense the power of its master behind its gaze.
“Release me,” she seethed.
The monster laughed, igniting a cacophony of shrieks across the sea of blood, and making Sera cringe in response. “Why should I?” Its voice was as guttural as its grating laugh.
“You know who I am and what I can do.”
“And?”
She addressed the Demon Lord watching behind its servant’s vacant eyes. “Face me and I will be happy to demonstrate.”
“Spoken like a true warrior,” it replied. “But I prefer to see you suffer. Torment, after all, is my greatest pleasure.”
Temlucus. It had to be. A shiver wound through her. He was the Demon Lord of torment, which meant she was in the sixth dimension of Xibalba. An image of him—a hooded specter of death—flooded her brain. When she’d seen him last, he’d been scorched and charred, his eyes like burning embers. He was the one who had thrown a dagger into Kyle’s shoulder to draw the blood needed to summon the Kali demon.
“I should have known it was you,” she ground out, her strength waning. She could feel the poison of the demon’s barbs sinking deep into her flesh and weakening her even more. It wouldn’t kill her, she knew, but the agony made it difficult to focus. “Ambitious Temlucus.”
The demon’s puppet laughed again. “Ra’al was weak. Unfit to lead. Too consumed by thoughts of his own legacy to see the future.”
Sera dropped three more inches toward the bubbling surface of the sea. “And you’re a better choice?”
“The KaliYuga is imminent. What you saw was a taste of what’s coming, and no one, not even the venerated Trimurtas, will be able to stop it.”
“You think they won’t stop you?” This time, it was Sera who laughed. “Trust me, Kali won’t hesitate to wipe it all out. And then what will you have? Nothing to feed your depraved souls. You’ll wither and die.”
The rakshasa yanked at her body, dragging her close enough for a second tentacle to join the first. Her left foot disappeared beneath the surface to the knee for a full second before she wrenched it free.
Sera gulped in a breath of air and summoned her weapons. Blades of scarlet fire extended from each hand and she flipped upside down in midair. In a smooth motion, she sliced at the tentacles holding her prisoner, even as talons rose up from the deep to tangle in her hair.
Bloody droplets splattered her face and dribbled over her lips. She gagged at the fetid taste. Her blades swung through other faces and arms writhing beneath the surface as a dozen more feelers from the rakshasa sprang in her direction. Gasping, Sera soared upward out of reach. Her entire left leg throbbed, but she didn’t dare look down at it. She’d felt the demons in the blood, devouring her, sucking on her flesh. She needed to stay calm to face the Demon Lord.
“Why don’t you come out from hiding, Temlucus?” She forced a mocking laugh. “Or are you truly that afraid of me?”
The rumble was slow at first, but gathered volume to become a roar. The entire landscape shifted. The sea bubbled and burst into flames, and thunderous clouds convened overhead. Acid-colored lightning forked across the sky in angry bands.
“Afraid? You dare to insult me?” This voice was not the guttural bark of the demon. No, these words were steeped in the same sonorous tones she’d remembered . . . the ones that were at complete odds with the demon’s decrepit body.
“I meant no insult,” she said mildly. “It was an honest question. After all, I’m not the one hiding behind the faces of my minions.”
Temlucus did not answer, but a blackened atoll rose from the sea, tall ebony spires of volcanic glass spearing upward. Sera descended to its solid surface, where the Demon Lord sat on a glossy, onyx throne, watching as a massive fortress formed around them.
Temlucus’s true form was not handsome. Unlike Ra’al, who assumed the form of what people most desired, Temlucus reminded Sera of a man caught in a burning inferno. Beneath his sagging cloak, hot bands of ropy, reddened flesh intertwined with darker, charbroiled patches on his muscled chest. Embers flaked from the molten grooves in his skin. In one hand, he held a forked spear.
Simmering yellow eyes regarded her in silence before he spoke. “You look well, Lady Serjana.”
“Wish I could say the same. Where’s Kyle?” Sera alighted on the ground, but left her hellfyre to curl around her in a protective shroud. Temlucus’s eyes glittered.
“Ah, Prince Kalias, I assume. Your ever faithful . . . servant.”
“He is no longer a prince of Xibalba, nor is he a servant of mine,” she said, her voice hardening. “Where is he?”
“Enjoying the climate?”
Dual flaming swords extended from each of her hands. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”
“You forget your place.” Steam curled from his mouth as his lips parted in a hiss. “You are in my domain now.”
“And you forget who I am,” she roared.
Hellfyre burst around her in a raging firestorm as brilliant, red mehndi vines twined up her arms and neck, curling across her cheeks and above her brow to form a crown.
Should she choose, Sera could lay claim to every realm in Xibalba . . . become the real Queen of Hell, so to speak. She could force every Demon Lord to bow at her feet. But doing so would mean giving up any claim to the Mortal Realm or Illysia. She would be bound to Xibalba forever.
Sera shoved away the eminently satisfying image of Temlucus groveling before her, his scorched cheek pressed to the dirt. “Do not make me ask again,” she demanded. “Where is the Azura Lord?”
Temlucus scowled at her, then nodded to two wraiths nearby. They disappeared, but returned within moments, dragging Kyle between them. Sera suppressed a sigh of relief.
“Kyle?” His glazed, milky eyes rose to peer in her direction. There was no recognition in them. There was no life in them. “What did you do to him?”
Temlucus waved a careless hand. “Let’s just say he was hunting a pishacha and he found one. It de
cided to make itself at home.”
In Kyle’s body.
Sera balked. Pishachas were old and strong, with the power to take on different forms and become invisible—and like the vetala, they preyed on mortal flesh and energy. Possession by one was said to drive mortal men insane. But she’d never heard of one occupying an immortal host.
“You lie,” she said.
“Do I?”
Kyle’s eyes rolled back in his head, and for a moment, the sheen of scarlet appeared in them. She could feel the malevolent energy from where she stood. Sera shook her head in confusion. “But he’s immortal.”
“He is a son of Xibalba,” he said.
Sera’s brows snapped together. Something wasn’t making sense. Even if his blood were still tethered to the Dark Realms, Kyle would never have allowed his body to become invaded by some demon. He was far too strong for that.
Unless . . . he’d done it on purpose. To find out what the pishacha knew.
With a start, she had to admit that Kyle’s ploy was brilliant. He’d managed to ensnare the pishacha with his own body. But now it was up to her to get them out of there and not make his strategy be for nothing. She inched toward Kyle, but was stopped by a tut-tutting noise from Temlucus. More shadow wraiths appeared around them.
“Release him,” she commanded.
The Demon Lord’s lips peeled back from his teeth. “I may be forced to acquiesce to your wishes, Lady Serjana,” Temlucus said evenly, “but Prince Kalias entered my domain of his own will and is my guest.” He favored her with a conciliatory bow. “Unless, of course, there is something of value you can offer in exchange. Say, a service to be rendered at a later time?”
“Never.” She couldn’t agree to such a thing. Who knew what he would ask for? And she’d be bound by her word to give it to him.
There was only one alternative—the right of challenge. She’d have to fight Temlucus in hand-to-hand combat to barter for Kyle’s freedom.
It was the way of Xibalba. An eye for an eye.
She cleared her throat. “Very well, I’ll fight you for him.”
“I expected nothing less,” he crowed, standing and signaling to one of the shadow wraiths. Sera wondered for a second if she had miscalculated. Did he want to fight? His exhilaration was clear as he clapped his skeletal hands. “And the champion of my choosing approaches.”
She’d forgotten that he had the right to select a fighter in his stead. Her eyes narrowed at the person being escorted by the wraith, and her stomach fell as she recognized the shoulder-length, dark-brown hair and piercing, golden eyes. He was dressed in a yellow shirt and his smile made her chest constrict. Every cell in her body fired at the sight of him.
Dev.
Only it wasn’t Dev. Because Dev could not be in Xibalba.
Sera’s breath caught in her throat as she understood the true identity of the newcomer. It was Ra’al, the Demon Lord of the seventh. Sera frowned as he sauntered closer, the scent of marigolds following him. Dev’s scent.
“What is this?” she snarled.
“My champion,” Temlucus boasted.
Her brows knitted together. Since when had Demon Lords worked together? Fought for each other, even? It didn’t make sense that Ra’al would fight any of Temlucus’s battles. “He is a Demon Lord.”
Temlucus’s grin was triumphant. “One who owes me a favor. Lord Ra’al will fight in my stead. If he wins, I will reward him with his son.” His grin widened to something horrible. “They have unfinished business, you see.”
Of course. Ra’al wanted revenge. She didn’t want to think of what he’d do to Kyle as punishment for defeating the apocalypse demon.
Sera gritted her teeth. “And if I win, I take Kalias with me.”
“Agreed. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?”
Ra’al, with Dev’s face, approached her, his hands outstretched as if to embrace instead of fight. Sera blinked.
It’s not him. It’s not him.
Her weapons flared as she swung them in a low arc, only to crash into a black staff that appeared like magic in her opponent’s hands. Her eyes met his and she nearly stumbled. She knew it was her mind playing tricks on her. Ra’al took the form of whomever you trusted the most, down to the last tiny detail.
Dev’s expression was entreating.
“Sera, stop,” he said. “It’s me.”
Even the warm tenor of the Demon Lord’s voice matched his. She hesitated for a second and the sweep of his staff made her land flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Rolling to the side, she narrowly missed the sharpened tip of his weapon, which nearly impaled her.
She jackknifed to her feet, this time keeping her eyes closed—it was the only way she could fight him and win. Using her other senses, she struck and parried, dancing out of the way of Ra’al’s blows. In her mind’s eye, she could see him like a mass of dark energy.
The real Dev, she knew, would be this power’s opposite. He’d be all light. The thought of him filled her with purpose, renewing her strength and her attack. Her swords felt like pure air as she spun, surprising Ra’al and putting him on the defensive. He was powerful—but then again, so was she.
“Sera.” He resorted to pleading, using his voice as a weapon now. Her heart rose into her throat as its familiar tones curled around her. “It’s me. Don’t you see? They’re forcing me to fight you so that you can kill me.”
She faltered and felt the staff slam into her spine as her knees buckled, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could rise, the weapon swung into her chin, making her see stars. Blood pooled in her mouth—she’d bitten her own tongue. Gasping, she opened her eyes to see Dev crouching above her, his beautiful face earnest.
“Sera, love, are you okay?”
Bewildered, she glanced around. They were alone on a gorgeous beach. “Where are we?” she asked, her senses spinning.
“You know where we are,” he said, smiling. “You’re safe.”
Her head buzzed. “No, there’s something. Someone. I forgot.”
Soft fingers grazed her cheek, and Sera fought off a strange feeling of revulsion. Dev’s touch felt alien. Reptilian. But his eyes glowed with light and love, his scent surrounding her like sunlight on a warm summer day. “There’s no one you need to remember but us.”
She nodded as her eyelids flicked closed, but the ache was insistent, demanding that she remember. She was somewhere else. “Wait. Kyle, he’s . . .”
“You never loved me, did you?” he said, eyes glittering. “You chose him. And left me. You are a deceiver.”
And then she knew.
She knew it was a lie. The real Dev would have let her go.
With a cry, Sera launched to her feet, and the beach fell away as Temlucus’s fiery dimension swam back into view. Her vision was clear now as she faced Ra’al. He still wore Dev’s face, but she no longer felt confused. She deflected his strike easily, watching rage flare in his eyes. He howled as one of her blades seared a fiery gash down his chest. Dev’s face melted away to reform into that of a young girl, and then a myriad of other faces as she drove him back with relentless attacks.
“You could never be him,” she whispered. “You don’t know his heart.”
Within seconds, she had her swords crossed at Ra’al’s throat.
“Yield,” she ordered.
His face had settled back into one form. Not Dev, but the aristocratic man with long white hair who she’d met the first time she and Kyle had visited the seventh. That wasn’t Ra’al’s true form, either. He bared his teeth at her, hatred burning in those colorless eyes.
“Yield,” she said, “or I send you back to that hole you call home.”
“I’d sooner kill my own son than yield to you.”
Sera sensed rather than saw his arm rising, before forcing her hand and scissoring her blades together. The body beneath her crumbled to dust as Ra’al disappeared, expelled back to the seventh.
“Restrain her,” she hea
rd Temlucus shout.
That lying snake. She should have known he had no intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain. Sera didn’t want to think about where she’d wind up if she did die. Illysia didn’t want her in her current form, and with her luck, she’d end up right where she was—in Temlucus’s clutches for eternity. She braced, expecting to be rushed by a dozen of the shadow wraiths congregating around them. But the only one coming toward her was Kyle.
Demon-possessed Kyle.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, sidestepping his first clumsy rush. But he took no notice of her words. He rushed forward again, his hands reaching for her neck. She let him get close. “Kyle, you have to fight it.” He didn’t answer. She grasped his shoulders, shaking him, even as Temlucus’s manic laughter filled the air. “Are you with me?”
Something appeared in Kyle’s hands then and she felt its malevolence like a tangible force. Mordas. Her breath fizzled in her throat at the sight of the ugly, black blade that had claimed so many lives—mortal and immortal. She didn’t want to hurt Kyle, or to leave him, but he was giving her no choice.
His mouth opened, but the only sound he made was a pained wheeze. His hands trembled violently on the hilt of the weapon, as if he were fighting himself. And weakening by the second.
“Kyle,” she whispered in one last-ditch effort. “Are you with me?”
“Finish her, Kalias,” Temlucus cawed. “Finish her and claim your rightful place.”
Kyle’s lips opened again, his eyes rolling back in a way that made her stomach recoil, but it was his voice that spoke—not the pishacha’s. “Use. Mordas. Cut. Demon. Killing. Me.”
He turned the blade with shaking hands to his abdomen.
Sera exhaled hard. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant.
Did he?
She had no time to ponder it. Closing her eyes and summoning a portal in the same breath, she grasped his hands over the hilt of the weapon and plunged the blade into Kyle’s stomach. The sound of his scream and Temlucus’s howl rolled into one.
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