Spirit’s End: An Eli Monpress Novel

by Rachel Aaron

  “How are you feeling?” he growled.

  “Like I always feel when I wake up like this,” Miranda grumbled. “Horrible.”

  The ghosthound snorted, blowing a blast of hot air across her face. “Looks like your brain didn’t get fried at least.”

  “Fried?” Miranda said. She tried to think back to what had happened, but her body cringed from the memory. Groaning, she reached up to rub her neck, but as her fingers landed, she realized her skin was covered in something slick and warm.

  She snatched her hand away and held it up, eyes widening when she saw the slick, red liquid on her fingertips. Blood. She touched her neck again, running her fingers over her jawline. Blood covered her cheeks and neck in a red torrent running from her ears, which, now that she thought about it, hurt a great deal. Miranda touched them tenderly, wincing as the contact sent an echo of pain through her head. “What happened to me?”

  “I did.”

  The low voice was a buzz in her body as well as a rumble in her ears, and her head snapped up to see the Lord of Storms sitting in the snow less than a foot away. He was solid again, his chest whole. His black hair fell across his shoulders just as it had back in the Spirit Court, and his sword lay across his knees, whole and safe in its blue sheath. She stared at him in wonder, and then it all came back. The fight, the oath, the lightning strike.

  Suddenly, Miranda felt like she was going to throw up. She leaned over and retched. When nothing came up, she fell back against Gin’s paws with a groan.

  “You probably shouldn’t move,” the Lord of Storms said. “I had to take quite a bit of you to keep from coming apart.”

  Miranda’s body shook as Gin started to growl deep in his chest, his muzzle sliding up to bear his long, sharp teeth at the Lord of Storms.

  “Don’t start, puppy,” the Lord of Storms said. “We’re on the same side now.” His eyes flicked to Miranda. “And I’m not calling you master.”

  Gin’s growling got louder, but Miranda didn’t have the strength to care. She lay back and pressed her hands on the heavy golden chain at her neck. Distance strained the connection, but she could still feel the Tower like a strong, steady pulse through the metal.

  After that, she checked her other spirits one by one. They were all shaken by the new addition, especially Skarest, her lightning bolt, but their connections to her were still strong. That was good, because she felt as weak as a newborn kitten. Hopefully this was just a temporary faintness, like the one after she’d taken Mellinor.

  “Don’t count on it,” the Lord of Storms said.

  Her eyes snapped open. “You can read my mind?”

  “A bit,” he said, tapping his sword against his knees. “I’m part of you now. And don’t look at me like that. You volunteered for this, remember? As I was saying, the weakness is only going to get worse. I was letting you rest a bit before I took more.”

  Gin snarled, but the Lord of Storms just shrugged. “Can’t be helped. You want me in shape to fight, right?”

  “Let him be, Gin,” Miranda said, pressing her hands over her eyes. Powers, she was exhausted. She took a deep breath, trying to will her strength back. There would be time for rest later, she promised her aching body. That, or she’d be dead and resting forever. Either way, it would be over soon.

  As if in reply, her stomach rumbled. “I don’t suppose we have any food,” she muttered.

  “No,” Gin growled. “I’d offer to hunt, but it’d take too long to catch anything, and I think we’re out of time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Gin’s growling fell to a whimper. “Look up.”

  She did, leaning sideways to see around the dog’s head.

  The moment she saw the sky, she wished she hadn’t. The blue dome was caving inward. The clouds were gone, scattered in fear. So were the winds and the snow they blew, which left nothing to hide the horror. The clear blue arch of the sky reminded Miranda of stretched silk, and behind it, she could see the outlines of clawed hands digging down toward them.

  A blast of fear gripped her chest. Suddenly, Miranda couldn’t breathe. Her hunger vanished, so did the pain. Everything vanished except the dread that turned her blood to water.

  “Powers,” she whispered.

  “Better find someone else to call to,” the Lord of Storms said bitterly. “The Powers can do nothing for you now.”

  Miranda had no answer to that. She just stared at things digging into the sky, unable to look away. She would have laid there watching forever, or what was left of forever, but a shout broke her out of the trance.

  She tore her eyes away just in time to see Josef stand, and Miranda jerked in surprise. Apparently, he’d been sitting on the other side of Gin, staying so quiet she hadn’t even known he was there. But he was up now with the Heart in his hand, standing between them and a tall man Miranda had never seen before.

  The man was dressed in black, but other than that it was hard to pin his clothes down. The long drape that hid his torso and legs could have been a coat or a well-cut robe, but the high collar reminded her of the League. His pale face was handsome and strangely trustworthy. It actually looked a lot like she’d always imagined Master Banage’s had when he was younger, and she wondered a moment who he was. A Spiritualist, perhaps, though she was sure she’d have remembered a face like that. Maybe he was one of the Shapers? Miranda was still trying to puzzle it out when she caught sight of his eyes.

  Her breath stopped. The man’s eyes were golden yellow, just like Nico’s. The demon. She was looking at the Demon of the Dead Mountain.

  The Lord of Storms went stiff beside her, and the air filled with the smell of ozone. But before he could do anything with the gathering power, Nico and Eli stepped out of the shadows behind the demon. Nico looked the same as ever, but the thief looked positively rattled. Somehow, that terrified Miranda even more than the two demons. Eli being anything less than perfectly self-assured felt like a betrayal of the world’s order.

  Fortunately, the moment was fleeting. As soon as Eli’s feet were firmly in the snow, he started talking. “We need to break in now,” he said, looking at the Lord of Storms. “Since you’re being so quiet, I presume someone’s talked you over?”

  “More or less,” the Lord of Storms said.

  Eli shrugged. “Can you open the veil to the Between?”

  “I used to have that power,” the Lord of Storms said, pushing himself up. “Let’s see if she’s cut me off.”

  Miranda was about to say she’d never do such a thing when she realized he wasn’t talking about her.

  The Lord of Storms raised his hand, and the air in front of him ripped open. All at once, the snowy valley was filled with blinding white light as Benehime’s wall was revealed again. “That’s the best I can do,” he said, dropping his arm.

  “It’s a bit small,” the Demon of the Dead Mountain said, his handsome face falling into a sneer. “After all this time, I expected so much more of you, my dear Lord of Storms.”

  The League Commander’s eyes flashed, and Miranda felt his killing instinct like a blade of hot steel in her gut. She yanked on their connection, and the Lord of Storms grunted.

  “Not yet,” she whispered, panting from the effort of holding him back. “We need him to do this.”

  The Lord of Storms shot her a look of pure poison, but he did not move as the demon walked up to the white wall floating in the air.

  “Well, my daughter,” the demon said, smiling at Nico. “Shall we play our part?”

  Nico snarled at the endearment, but she stepped up beside him, her little body tense beside his large form. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  The demon laughed and held out his hand. All at once, his fingers flickered and vanished, revealing an enormous, black claw. A second later, Nico’s did the same. Her claw was slightly smaller, but the curved edges were just as wicked as they hovered above the white barrier.

  “When you’re ready, love,” the demon said, his double-harmonic
voice cloying as poisoned honey.

  Nico’s hand clenched, and then she brought her claws down. The second they hit the white wall, the air began to scream. The veil squealed beneath her attack and began to pitch wildly. Smoke rose from Nico’s black talons, and her face distorted in pain and rage.

  Just before her hand dissolved in the white light, the demon’s claw joined hers. They pressed together, and shadows began to gather despite the blinding light, the darkness clinging to their bodies like syrup. For several moments the white wall did nothing but scream and burn their claws, and then, with an ear-splitting crack, the barrier shattered.

  The demons’ claws sliced through the white wall like knives through flesh. The blinding light faded, and Nico and the demon dropped their arms, the claws flickering back to their human shapes.

  Josef ran over to Nico, and they exchanged a few words Miranda couldn’t hear. Eli joined them a second later, and the three began to whisper rapidly. On the sidelines, the demon stood back with a sardonic smile, his eyes fixed on the sky overhead. “Settle it quickly, children,” he called. “They’re almost through.”

  Miranda’s eyes shot up. The bulging sky was lower than ever. Now that she’d seen demon claws firsthand, she could make out the traces of the same shapes straining against the sky’s surface.

  The thought drained the blood from her face. Watching them digging into the shell, Miranda could already see what would happen in her mind’s eye. The dark claws would rip through the blue sky as they had ripped through the wall of light seconds earlier, and the creatures would fall on them, enormous mouths open to devour the world. With that, the fear came roaring back, and she began to shake uncontrollably.

  “Who’s going in?”

  The Lord of Storms’ voice cut through her panic, and she looked up to see him striding over to Eli’s group.

  “I am,” Eli said, pushing Josef aside. “And I’m going alone.”

  The Lord of Storms sneered. “Change your mind about paradise, thief?”

  Eli’s expression flipped in an instant, and the pure fury Miranda saw there took her breath away. “Never suggest that again,” he said, his voice as cold as the snow underfoot.

  The Lord of Storms crossed his arms. “Just checking.”

  Eli shot him a final glare before turning back to his group, his face returning to its usual earnest charm.

  “I’m the only one who can do this,” he said. “Benehime is the most powerful thing in the world right now. We can’t fight her, so it has to be me. Meanwhile, I need the rest of you to make sure the world doesn’t fall to pieces while I’m in there.”

  “Easy for you to say,” the Lord of Storms growled.

  “I’ll be quick,” Eli promised, and then he turned to face the Lord of Storms. “Do you still live for a good fight?”

  “Of course,” the Lord of Storms answered. “Why do you ask this now?”

  “No reason,” Eli said, smiling in the way that usually meant there were a lot of reasons. “Just hold tight, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He grinned at them one last time and turned around. Lifting his leg high, he stepped up through the ripped hole and into the white world beyond. The light ate him at once, and the portal in the veil snapped closed without a sound, the glowing line fading instantly into the air.

  “He’s not coming back,” the Lord of Storms announced.

  No one else said a word.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Eli took a deep breath as the veil closed behind him. He was locked in now, no turning back. That thought actually made him feel better. First rule of thievery: You can do absolutely anything when there’s a wall at your back.

  He was standing alone in the Between. The white nothing stretched out forever in all directions, endless and blinding. But, though Benehime’s world looked the same as ever, something was different. There was a pressure in the air strong enough to make Eli’s ears pop, like the whole place was being squeezed.

  With a muffled curse, Eli started to run. There was no time to stand around gawking. He ran straight forward, his boots slapping soundlessly against the white floor. He didn’t have a destination in mind, didn’t need one. All directions here led to only one place.

  He’d been running for less than a minute before he spotted her. Benehime was sitting beside her sphere, her white hair swept back over her shoulders, leaving her perfect body naked. Her white eyes were narrowed, watching him run, and at her throat hung a shining white pearl on a strand of light.

  He slowed as he reached her, coming to a stop a few feet from her white form. For several moments they just stared at each other, and then Benehime looked away, hand going to the glowing pearl at her neck. I knew you would come.

  Eli winced at her voice. He’d never heard it so cold.

  She turned away from him, reaching out to cradle the small orb floating beside her. The paradise lit up as she touched it, glistening like a jewel garden inside its tiny, perfect shell. It had changed from the last time Eli had seen it. The flat blank she’d left in preparation for the Shaper Mountain was gone. In its place, a high mountain meadow full of flowers shone in the white light of her touch. When she saw him looking, Benehime turned her hand, hiding the beautiful world from his view.

  No, no, she whispered. You threw that away, remember? You chose to stay here.

  She stepped aside to reveal the larger sphere floating behind her, neglected, and Eli’s skin went cold. The world’s sphere was no longer perfect and round, but dented as though it were being squeezed in a vise. Inside, the seas were shaking, sending great waves surging miles into the coast. Rivers writhed in their beds, and the mountains quaked in fear as the sky bent down like it was folding under enormous pressure. There were depressions in the bedrock base, but worst by far was the dome’s top. The arch of the sky was crumpling as Eli watched, the blue wall warping as though under enormous pressure.

  Won’t be long now, Benehime said, her white eyes hateful. But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

  “Yes,” Eli said. “It is.”

  Benehime’s lip curled in a sneer. You always were such a selfish creature, Eliton. But then, all humans are. I should know; I made you so. And do you know why?

  Eli’s eyes flicked back to the sphere. The sky was starting to discolor as it bent, turning from blue to a stretched gray-white. He had to speed this up. “Benehime, please—”

  My brother the Weaver thought I was cruel, Benehime said, completely ignoring him as she fondled the glowing pearl at her neck. Of the three of us, I alone had our father’s gift of creation. Why, he asked, would I use it to make a race of blind, deaf creatures whose lives ended in the blink of an eye? Why give them a fraction of my own power?

  She glanced up, waiting, and though time was running out, Eli played along. “Why?”

  Benehime smiled, a cruel curving of her white lips. Because I was always the cleverest. After our father trapped us in here, the spirits were in panic. Why not? Diligent as the Weaver was, they could still see the demon’s claws on the shell’s edge, especially against the sky. Every time they looked up, they were reminded of the doom that was never more than an hour from breaking through. This knowledge proved impossible for the spirits to handle, and we had constant problems.

  Problems, she called them, Eli thought with a mental eye roll, but the Shepherdess wasn’t finished.

  The Weaver wanted to talk them through their fear, she said, her voice disgusted. He wanted to give them knowledge, to make them feel safe by imparting understanding. She shook her head. My brother never understood spirits. That’s why he was sent to mind the veil while I was given dominion over creation. I understood, as my brother did not, that all spirits, great or small, are fundamentally the same: panicky, stupid, prey animals.

  She turned back toward the crumpling world. Look at them, she said. Even now, when there’s no hope at all, the whole world has launched itself into a pointless fit, burning their last minutes in terror and agony
. Stupid, like I said. It was always like this before. No matter how my brother tried to explain that they were safe, the world never listened. Every time one of those idiot sheep glanced at the sky or the Dead Mountain, we’d have a panic. It went on and on, even after I strictly forbade them to look or speak of what they saw. That’s when I decided I needed a distraction.

  She looked at Eli, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she answered for him. Humans. I made humans in the image of the Powers, complete with a fraction of my own will, giving you dominion over all the spirits of the world. And then, to keep you from panicking too, I made you blind and forbade my spirits from telling you anything of importance.

  “Why would you do that?” Eli snapped. It was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. “To put so much power in the hands of blind, ignorant—”

  It was your ignorance that made it work. Benehime laughed. My humans burst into the world like a plague, and, since they could not see the spirits under their feet, they assumed it was all theirs. It was glorious. Where my brother had been working for years to stop the panics with knowledge and reason, blind human hubris stopped them in a day. The spirits were so busy trying to deal with the wizards who suddenly had mastery over them, they no longer had time to worry about the demons. And since I cut your lives so short, even the really awful Enslavements never lasted too long. Never as long as the earlier panics had, anyway.

  Benehime’s face lit up with smug satisfaction. With humans there to occupy all their fears, even those spirits who broke my edict and looked at the sky never looked long enough to remember what they should really be afraid of. She spread her hands wide. Blind, ignorant, and all-powerful. You were my perfect distraction and, in your own way, helped save the last of a greater world than you could ever know. It was a brilliant solution, and no one, not even Durain, ever realized the truth of it. Truly, you blind fools are my greatest creations. Then her face fell. Too bad it was all for nothing.

  As she finished, Eli just stared at her, speechless, and Benehime, knowing how rare this state was for him, reveled in it. When his voice finally returned, he was so furious the words came out in a stammer. “That’s it?” he shouted. “That’s why you made us? A dog-and-pony show to distract the spirits from remembering they were in a lifeboat surrounded by sharks? That’s why we have wizards?”