Temlucus had won.
It was over. Her father had lost.
Tears trekked down her cheeks as, once more, she looked toward Jem. The gratified look she expected to see was not there. His mouth was turned down in resentment. Confused, she looked back to where the demon was moving at her feet, slow to realize that the movement was coming from beneath it. Shaking arms pushed the beast to the side, and finally she saw two daggers embedded in the demon’s throat, as her father emerged covered in demon slop. His chest rose and fell in a shallow motion.
Sera broke free from Dev’s grasp and fell to her father’s side, embracing him and offering him her strength. “You did it,” she cried. “How?”
“Told you I knew a few tricks.” He drew a fractured breath, his lips quivering into a smile. “Help. Up.”
She and Dev held him between them as he faced the defeated Demon Lord. Jem stood there sourly, Temlucus burning like an angry shadow behind his eyes. “You think you have won,” he said. “But you have not.”
“Release the boy,” Sam said.
Temlucus did not respond, but within moments, Jem drooped, his body collapsing at the base of a nearby tree. Dev waved a palm and dispersed the remaining demons in one fell swoop.
“Help me,” Sam said, lifting a trembling finger toward where Jem lay. Sera frowned. Her father had risked so much—and for what? For a kid who had tried to murder him and his whole family?
Dev helped to turn Jem over and stripped the shirt from his shoulders. Just as her father had said, a scarlet rune marked the graying skin there, in the shape of a scythe surrounded by flame. Temlucus’s rune. Sera didn’t know how she knew that. She just did. Just as she knew all the runes of all the Demon Lords. Just as she had known all the levels of Xibalba.
“Sera,” her father wheezed. “Erase it.”
Her frown deepened. “Me? How?”
“That.” He nodded to her right palm.
“No.”
“Only way.”
Dev took her hands carefully into his. “He’s right. Yours is the only rune that will eclipse the one that is there.”
“But he will be marked to me,” she protested, suddenly remembering the green-and-black raptor demon bearing her rune that she had met in Xibalba months before. Izei. It had been bound to her somehow, and had saved both her and Kyle from a gruesome death in one of the pits of hell. “I don’t want that. He’ll be a slave.”
“He’ll die otherwise, and his soul will be forever in Temlucus’s keeping,” Dev said. “Temlucus will have won.”
Sera inhaled sharply and tore her palm from Dev’s grasp. Without a second thought, she slammed its heel onto the rune etched into Jem’s skin. Torment pulsed through her in frantic, scattered beats, and her back arched like a bow as her rune seared away the brand beneath it, erasing and reforming it with her own.
But for an eternal instant before the sigil dissolved, she and Temlucus were connected. And in that moment, Sera saw. She knew beyond the shade of a doubt what was on the horizon.
The end of the world wasn’t coming.
It was already here.
POWER PLAY
“I told you it was a lost cause,” Kyle muttered with a look over his shoulder at the girl behind him.
Darika, in all her goddess glory, dispatched three demons loitering along the otherwise deserted corridor. Blood speckled her clothing, but her features were composed, impassive with the exception of her customary and secretive smile. She was the consummate warrior striding into battle. Today, a menacing tiger walked at her side. Four pairs of arms held various weapons, including a mace and a bow, but the trident was currently impaled in the torso of a demon the size of a small horse. She grunted as she tore it loose and caught up to him.
“You were the one who wanted to save the mortals,” she told him in a low whisper. “And you have been granted your request. Surely you do not wish to give up now?”
“There are hundreds of kids in there,” he replied. “All controlled by demons. There’s no way we can save all of them.”
“We can try.”
“You sound like Sera,” he said, dodging a flying demon that swooped down from some hidden vent. He swung Mordas in a skillful arc, catching the demon on its second pass. The birdlike creature disappeared in a shower of yellow embers.
Darika eyed him. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But it’s not easy when any portal I create only lets more of them enter the Mortal Realm.” He darted a circumspect look to her. “Maybe Kira was right—they should all be purged so we can start fresh.”
Darika met his stare with a cool one of her own. “That is still an option. Kali is the great liberator, the deliverer of moksha. Death is a certainty in this life.”
“And you? What’s your role?”
“You already know that,” she said mildly, unresponsive to his belligerent tone. “I am the sum of the collective energy of the gods, meant to defend those oppressed by demonic forces.” She stopped in front of him to block his way, then dragged him into an empty classroom nearby. “What’s really bothering you?”
Kyle swallowed and met her eyes, misery threatening to choke him. “I feel like this is all my fault,” he began. “If I hadn’t banished all those demons in the first place, I wouldn’t have allowed so many to infect this realm. I thought I could . . . save everyone. Instead, I was the one to doom them all. They’re here because I opened the stupid portals!”
“You could not have foreseen this,” she said. “Not even the Trimurtas knew what your ties to Xibalba would produce. Or that your portals would go both ways, allowing the rakshasas to escape.”
“I should have known,” he insisted. “I am the seed of Ra’al, unworthy of redemption. All of this happened because of me. All I’ve done is cause chaos and death because of this disgusting blood that runs in my veins. I brought this upon them.”
She eyed him, that ever-present half-smile tilting the corners of her lips. “Don’t you think you’re being just a tiny bit dramatic?”
“What?” he sputtered.
“Unworthy of redemption?” She smirked, her eyes rolling skyward, but Kyle failed to see what she found so funny. “That sounds like something Ra’al would say.”
He couldn’t curb his sour response. “Maybe I’d be better off with him.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then stop being so stupid.” She winked at him and squeezed his arm. “Or do I need to go berserker battle-crazy on you?”
Kyle blinked at her expression, uncertain of her meaning. Did she mean that she would go into berserker mode, or that she’d summon Kira? He couldn’t quite ignore the increased stammer of his pulse. If Kira were here, she’d probably deliver him straight to Ra’al, no questions asked. She’d never tolerate his pity party. That was one of the things he liked most about her—her unfailing, brutal honesty. He supposed he should be grateful for Darika’s compassion, even if he felt that he deserved none of it.
“Do you really think we can save those kids?” he asked after a beat.
“That’s more like it.” Darika thumped him on the shoulder, making him wince from the force of it. “I think you can.”
“But what about the dual gateway thing?”
“Let me worry about that,” she said. “Ready?”
He hoisted Mordas and nodded. “Yes.”
Together they exited the classroom and made their way down the silent hallway. It was deserted and still, like a creepy scene out of some horror flick. Kyle couldn’t curb the shivers that raced across his skin in icy bursts. The Demon Lords would know they were coming. They would be ready to unleash whatever atrocities they had planned. He could only hope that he and Darika would have enough time to release the kids trapped in their clutches.
Kyle had no doubt that they were walking into a trap, but they had no other choice and time was short. The tug on his center grew more insistent the closer they got to the gymn
asium, and the push of so many energies made him suddenly disoriented. He wondered whether it had anything to do with the burial ground below where they walked, but he shook his head. Delayed paranoia was starting to make an unwelcome appearance.
Then again, he’d never felt this discombobulated by demon energies before. He paused and tried to settle himself, but nothing seemed to assuage the hollowness within him that was growing wider by the minute. Whatever monstrous thing awaited them in that room would not be friendly or forgiving.
“The gym is around the corner,” he whispered over his shoulder. “There are a lot of them.”
Darika closed her eyes and exhaled. “I know. I can feel the shift in the balance.”
“We’re going to need help.”
“It is coming.”
Kyle drew a sharp breath. Hopefully, assistance would arrive long before a throng of demons swarmed them. “Should we wait?” he whispered.
But fate, it seemed, was not on their side as the walkway erupted into dissonant screeching. The noise was not coming from the gym, but from the opposite end of the hall. In moments, they would be trapped. They exchanged a silent look before grasping their weapons and taking up positions on either side of the gymnasium doors.
Darika clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, her lips forming some kind of silent mantra. Her eyes flickered open and the firm resolve Kyle saw there bolstered his own failing nerves. “Let’s go.”
They pushed open the doors, expecting to be attacked immediately. But they were greeted instead by rows and rows of motionless human bodies, surrounding a glass sculpture that looked chillingly like some kind of altar. The massive structure stood in the middle of the gym’s basketball court, ebony crystal shards glistening around its concentric base like a crown. He sucked in a breath at the gleaming circle at its epicenter that shimmered in an erratic motion. It was a portal, though it seemed to be not fully formed, winking in and out of existence.
“Welcome, Lord Kalias.” A tall figure appeared from behind the altar. “And of course, Lady Durga.”
Every bone in Kyle’s body recognized his father’s voice. Sera had once said that Ra’al’s default form—that of the aristocratic older man—looked like Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. But he wasn’t in that form today. Kyle bit his lip until he could feel blood seep into his mouth. The form sauntering forward was Kira’s. Darika let out a soft gasp beside him.
“He takes the form of those you lo . . . trust,” Kyle explained in a hollow voice. The woman ambled toward them, and with each step, Kyle could feel his strength falter. Ra’al embodied Kira down to the last detail—from the wild tangle of black hair and red lips to her trim, black-clad figure.
“Hello,” she said, her dark eyes flicking to Darika. “Sister.” Her tone was mocking as she raked them both with a chilling stare. “Guess that old mortal saying about three being a crowd is true. Look at you two, all cozy.”
“It’s not really her,” Kyle said, stifling the swift rise of guilt in his chest. It was what Ra’al did—he preyed on fears and insecurities, and then turned them against you.
Darika’s answer was soft. “I know.”
At the quiet affirmation, Ra’al’s form shifted, morphing into a new shape. This one was also feminine, but with red hair falling in soft waves and glistening silvery eyes. “Or perhaps you desire Lady Serjana instead.” Ra’al laughed, the musical tones identical to Sera’s. “I never could quite decide whether you would be a better choice than Devendra, especially after that kiss.” Her voice lowered to something sweet and hypnotic. “You remember, don’t you?”
“Kyle.” The short hiss was from the goddess at his side and he swayed unsteadily on his feet, blinking wildly. His treacherous father had moved nearly to within arm’s reach. “Use your sight,” Darika urged. “That thing in front of you is not who you think it is.”
Breathing heavily, Kyle summoned his ability, and the mortal layers that formed Sera fell away. The illusion was shattered as his father’s true form burst forth. Blood red and beastlike, with curling black horns crowning his head. His father leered at him.
“Still so easy to bait,” he jeered. “Are you sure the Trimurtas made you immortal?”
“What do you want?” Kyle snapped.
“What I’ve always wanted, my son.” Ra’al laughed. “For you—”
“I am no son of yours,” he bit out.
“—to claim your legacy,” Ra’al continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Claim your place where you belong, as you have always been meant to do. Learn at my side and assume your throne in time. You were born to rule. I know you feel it—that impulse calling you back to where you truly belong. It’s in your lifeblood, the meat of who you are.”
Kyle frowned at his loquaciousness. Something wasn’t right. Ra’al was stalling. Though the Demon Lord had always enjoyed hearing himself speak, it seemed like he was wasting time on purpose. It wasn’t like him to wax poetic about Kyle’s birthright. Ra’al wanted to punish him, not to exalt him as his successor, which meant that all of this was part of some farce . . . some other illusion meant to disrupt. Or distract.
Kyle’s gaze spanned the room. He suppressed an involuntary shiver. He had no doubt that he and Darika had been shepherded here. The human bodies around them hadn’t moved, but he sensed a growing restlessness among them, as if the spirits within were preparing for something. He had to throw Ra’al off balance, buy some time. Steeling himself, he shifted Mordas to lie across his front like a shield. The Demon Lord’s eyes flashed with something akin to irritation.
“If that’s so,” he said mildly, tapping Mordas against the fleshy part of his forearm. “Why do you answer to Temlucus?”
His father’s burning eyes lanced to his. “I do not answer to him.”
“Sure looked like you did last time I was in the sixth,” Kyle replied. “He chose you to fight for him. Who knew that the great Ra’al could be commanded like a servant? Like some common gladiator in his master’s ring?”
“I am no servant,” he snapped.
“Right.”
Kyle’s mocking tone made Ra’al’s mouth thin to an angry sneer. “Temlucus may think he’s the one in charge, but I am the father of the son whose power holds the key. The KaliYuga is my legacy, not his.”
Kyle tried to not let his surprise show. The demons needed him. Again.
“Any remnant of your demon blood running in my veins has long been exorcized,” Kyle said. “And if you think I will help you, then you are about to learn the same lesson as last time.”
“We will see who learns the lesson.”
The chilling undertone in Ra’al’s voice was the only indication that all hell was about to break loose. Pandemonium exploded as demons attacked them from all corners of the gym. Kyle felt Darika shift at his side and as he peered at her over his shoulder, he sucked in an awed gasp. Her four pairs of arms had evolved into ten, each holding a weapon. Though the expression on her face was still contemplative, the look in her eyes was fierce and indomitable.
“Try not to hurt them,” he shouted as he ducked a kick from a boy in his calculus class. He shoved the hilt of Mordas upward and the boy crumpled to the ground. He turned his attention to a group of cheerleaders that didn’t look in the least friendly as they swarmed him. Their sharp nails scratched at his face and arms, drawing welts of blood. It took every ounce of his skill to not kill them with a careless swipe of Mordas.
Incapacitate was his edict.
He dared a glance at Darika and noticed with relief that she was doing the same. Boys and girls surrounded her in moaning heaps, clutching their injuries. She was a whirlwind as she decimated the rushing horde. Kyle shook his head and turned back to the task at hand. It was worse than a pep rally. A demon pep rally.
A girl from English that he’d hooked up with sophomore year ran full throttle toward him to crash into his chest, tumbling both of them to the floor. Not quite finished, she snapped her teeth closed near his ear. He rolled
out from underneath her and scrambled away, only to collide with three jocks from the baseball team staring down at him with matching diabolical grins. He curled into a ball to avoid their kicks and braced his hands over his head to protect himself from their metal spiked cleats. Mordas skidded out of reach across the slippery court floor. Kyle watched in horror as a senior he vaguely recognized bent to pick it up.
“No,” he managed to shout, but it was too late—hot red embers swallowed the kid’s hands and traveled like fire up his arms. The human and the demon within howled in combined agony at the touch of the ruthless Azura weapon. Within seconds, the boy was a human-sized lump of charred ash.
The kicking halted as the demons were mesmerized by the dark fire, and Kyle took the chance to spring to his feet. With a powerful grunt, he vaulted over prone bodies and scooped up Mordas in the process, knocking kids out left and right as he made his way to where Darika fought at the center of the gym.
“The altar,” she shouted to him.
His eyes flew to the menacing, crystalline structure rising atop the sea of human bodies. Darika was right—he had to get to that altar and destroy it. Whatever Ra’al and Temlucus were planning, it would have something to do with that thing. Something bloody and sacrificial, no doubt.
He looked around wildly for any signs of his pernicious father, but it seemed that the Demon Lord had disappeared. His father was as slippery as an eel, and was probably watching him right at that moment. Kyle fought off another wave of kids and climbed his way toward Darika and the altar. “When’s your help coming?” he said, moving to stand so that they were back to back against the relentless churn of human bodies.
“Already here,” she said as her trident sent three kids scuttling across the gym floor to the half-court line. His gaze swept over the crowd to see Mara and a few other Yoddha battling it out near the entrance of the gym. Gratitude poured through him, but it was short-lived as he was swamped by more flailing bodies. Even with the help, the horde of mortals seemed inexhaustible. The ones that had been disabled were scattered about with broken limbs and unconscious bodies, driven by the unholy forces within them.
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