Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2)

by SM Reine

  Teeth released from her throat.

  Seth lifted his head, gazing down at her in confusion that slowly shifted into horror. He looked like he’d recently returned to his body, too. His spirit had chased hers into the Dead Forest, and he’d lost his sense of reality as much as she had.

  They’d come back to Seth drinking her blood.

  She felt so faint.

  “Seth,” she whispered.

  Her trembling hand lifted to his cheek, pressing against the side of his face. His lips were coated in her blood.

  “Oh my God,” he said.

  Marion wanted to make a joke about that—saying “oh my God” as though it were some kind of expletive instead of something very literal and very relevant. She was so exhausted that she could only sink against him.

  “No,” Seth said, clutching her tighter. “Wait.”

  Marion let her eyes slide shut. She pressed her temple to his chest. There was a heart beating under his breastbone, strong and steady, sending the blood he’d devoured coursing through his body.

  Seth gathered her into his arms. She felt herself come off of the grass, which must have meant that he was picking her up. She couldn’t feel much aside from pain.

  Marion peeled her eyes open. Seth was as injured as she was. He was dribbling blood from gashes carved into his throat and chest.

  Yet he was standing.

  “Hang on, Marion.” Eyes as black as the night bored deep into her skull.

  He changed.

  Seth filled the Dead Forest with an energy that exceeded any mortal form. He was beyond human, beyond doctor, beyond demon. Smoke peeled from the wounds on his torso and drifted into the night.

  Blood dribbled from his chest, and every drop that departed his body seemed to make space for more power.

  In his arms, Marion could see all of Sheol: the complexity of the hive tunnels, Duat’s temple, the dust that had once been the Canope. A million demons. A dozen rivers. So many trees. So much blood.

  Seth expanded and kept growing.

  Marion recognized what was happening—the extension of Seth’s form out of the boundaries of the Nether Worlds, reaching to the Winter Court with little more than a thought. It wasn’t teleportation, but something very much like ripping open the walls between dimensions so that he could slither between them.

  She hadn’t experienced that kind of energy since waking up in Ransom Falls. But she had done it before.

  It was the kind of effortless disregard for reality only a god could have.

  Marion snapped back into human form in the Winter Court.

  The Dead Forest was gone. She was no longer held by arms, but resting on the bed in her rooms, stretched out under the canopy of trees that crowded her bed.

  Seth didn’t exactly stand in her room. He stood within it, and without. He existed within the Winter Court while also existing on every other plane.

  She couldn’t quite make out his face, because there was no face.

  Only essence.

  “You’re going to be fine, Marion,” Seth said. “Damn it, you’re going to survive, whatever that takes.” His voice wasn’t something she heard with her ears, but within her skull.

  Marion couldn’t remember ever hearing his voice quite like that, but she’d heard voices like it before.

  God voices.

  “You’re the third,” Marion said. “You’re like they are—like Elise and James.”

  Seth reared above her, outside of rational existence, yet radiating utter horror. “No.”

  “You’re the third god of the triad,” she said. “That’s what they did to you. That’s why you’re different.”

  And he said again, “No.”

  His denial was meaningless. The word itself carried throughout Sheol and the Winter Court. It rippled onto Earth.

  No, no, no…

  Marion reached toward him, hands lifted in a gesture resembling prayer.

  “Seth,” she said.

  But he disappeared before she could make contact.

  * * *

  Demons crashed over Niflheimr’s refugee camp in a tidal wave of suffering. Nori was frozen by shock, unable to do anything but stare as a hundred creatures from the Nether Worlds destroyed everything she had spent days trying to build. They ripped through tents, smashed supply crates, and tore sidhe apart.

  And Nori could only watch.

  Her mind raced as her body remained immobile.

  Niflheimr should have had safeguards against invasion. That was part of the reason that civil war had been devastating, after all. It had murdered most seelie sidhe who had come in from the Summer Court. And they were almost the same species. Demons should have been creamed the instant they set tentacle on the ice.

  But they hadn’t been able to activate the wards on Niflheimr—not without a ruling sidhe to control them.

  There was no way to stop the demons. Not until they decided to retreat or froze to death.

  “Arawn, stop!” Charity Ballard raced toward the last demon to step through the portal.

  Nori drew back, a strangled cry caught in her throat. She’d seen what Charity could do when she was angry, and she was currently in her revenant form—a thing of pure terror.

  But Charity only clung to Arawn, and he clung back.

  “Back off,” he said with shocking restraint. “I’m not here for you.”

  Konig marched toward them, sword drawn. “Then talk to me.”

  “Where is she?” Arawn roared, spinning in place to search the mezzanine with wild eyes. “Where’s that damn angel-spawn?”

  Nori was certain he wasn’t talking about her.

  “How did you get here?” Konig asked. “You can’t survive outside the Nether Worlds!”

  “I can’t survive in sunlight,” Arawn snarled. “There’s no such thing in the Winter Court, and I have as many planeswalkers among my people as you do.”

  “Get out of my palace!” Konig seized Arawn by the suspenders. Charity took a step toward them, and then stopped, as though she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Arawn suffered from no such confusion. He gripped Konig’s wrists, digging his fingers in. “I’m not going anywhere until I get satisfaction. She didn’t take her memories back, and that means I don’t get to go to Earth! Give me that damn mage!”

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “I agreed to hold on to the Canope, lure Seth Wilder to my position, and restore Marion Garin’s memories,” Arawn said. “I told them I would do it, but only because they were going to make me immune to sunlight!”

  Konig released the suspenders. “Who told you that?”

  “Those cursed gods!” Arawn screamed it to the sky, as though trying to get their attention. “But she shattered the damn Canope, and now they’re gone—along with the promises they made!”

  Refugees scrambled up the stairs, trying to escape the carnage below. Nori recognized Cyprian drenched in blood, cradling Ymir in his arms, with no sign of his daughters. They must have been lost among the camp.

  Nori reflexively moved toward him to help, but the motion was a mistake. It drew Arawn’s attention.

  And he got to Cyprian first.

  Arawn’s fist slammed into the sidhe’s belly. He was holding a switchblade that Nori hadn’t noticed before, and it sliced right through the sidhe’s gut.

  Cyprian fell with a gurgling cry, dropping Ymir.

  Nori screamed. She screamed, but nothing changed. Nothing got better. Cyprian was dead, along with dozens of the refugees. Their cries mingled with hers and echoed through all of Niflheimr.

  Arawn yanked the child off of the ground. “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Ymir,” he croaked.

  “Put him down,” Konig commanded, lifting his sidhe sword and stepping forward.

  He stopped when Arawn shook the little frost giant.

  “I’ll kill Ymir if you don’t let me have the mage!”

  It was obviously a desperate move. There was no way that Arawn c
ould think that some refugee child would be worthy of trading for Marion. But Konig looked alarmed.

  Nori understood. Marion had taken a special interest in Ymir. A refugee child might not have meant anything to Konig, but to the woman he planned to have as bride…?

  “Arawn, please.” It was strange to see such an earnest plea coming from Charity when she was in her revenant form. The ache in her gaze should have humanized her. She somehow managed to look even more frightening.

  Arawn didn’t waver.

  “If the Canope is broken, you won’t be able to give Marion her memories,” Konig said. “It doesn’t make sense to take her. It won’t get you anything you want.”

  Arawn dragged the blade down the side of Ymir’s throat, pressing hard enough to draw a thin line that bled. The child cried. “Then I’ll just kill him!”

  “Why not take something better?” Konig asked.

  “There is nothing better! Nothing! Not when the sunlight has been stripped from me!”

  Danger glimmered in Konig’s eyes. “You don’t need sun to have light in your life.” He flashed across the mezzanine, using his unseelie power to leap several feet and reappear behind Arawn.

  He seized the back of Charity’s skull. Sidhe magic gushed over her.

  The revenant didn’t have time to react before her eyes went blank. She collapsed.

  Nori smothered a pained squeal behind both hands.

  “Take Charity,” Konig said. “Leave Ymir.”

  Now Arawn was faltering. He gazed at Charity’s unconscious form with adoration—not only unbothered by her monstrousness, but tempted by it.

  Nori stepped toward him to save Charity. Konig shot a warning look at her. “She’s the only witness,” he said softly. This was how he would keep Marion from learning what Charity had seen. They’d all be protected from the fallout of the revelation.

  But giving Charity to a demon?

  Was that the best way to protect Nori and Konig from Marion’s wrath?

  Arawn dropped Ymir. He scooped Charity’s limp body into his arms, stroking the scraggly hair back from her bulging forehead. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, I think that will work.”

  He snapped his fingers. The remaining swarm of demons vanished from the courtyard.

  “You can’t,” Nori whispered. She was too afraid to say it any louder, even though she was screaming inside.

  Arawn carried Charity into the portal that one of his planeswalkers had opened. It slammed shut, and there was nothing left in Niflheimr but silence.

  * * *

  After what felt like many years of calm, Marion jolted awake again.

  She found herself in bed in the Winter Court, resting under clean sheets, surrounded by a tangle of vines and blossoms. Konig sat beside her, head tipped back against the wall. He stirred when she sat up.

  “You’re awake,” he said, pushing shining black hair out of his face. “Thank the gods.”

  “What happened?” She remembered being injured—mutilated, really, pouring her blood out on the floor of the Dead Forest. She’d seen the Hounds shredding her flesh. Damn it all, she’d felt them eating her, and she should have been dead.

  “I healed you,” Konig said. “Again.”

  That was the second time he’d had to intercede with magic to save Marion from potentially life-threatening wounds. Or was it the third? She was losing track.

  “What was wrong?” Marion asked.

  “It looked like you got caught by the Hounds when you returned to Sheol.”

  The rest of her memories came rushing back: her run through the Dead Forest, approaching the doorway among the trees, and then Seth.

  Seth.

  She scrambled over Konig’s legs to try to get out of bed. She was so much stronger than she had ever been in Sheol. “Have you seen Seth around?”

  “He was gone by the time I came to help,” Konig said. “He’d abandoned you to die.”

  She shivered hard, hugging her arms around herself. “That’s because…” She didn’t really have a way to finish the sentence. Because Seth was afraid to talk about what had happened in the Dead Forest? Or because he didn’t want to explain why he’d been drinking her blood?

  Marion’s hand flew to her throat. There was no sign of the bite wound that he’d delivered.

  Konig had truly healed everything.

  “Charity said that the Canope was destroyed.” The prince stroked his hand over her curls. “Marion, I’m so sorry.”

  She suspected that she should have been sorry, too. She should have been mourning for the memories she’d lost and the personhood that would never be restored. Everything that had made Marion who she was before waking up in Ransom Falls had vanished the instant that she had chosen to shatter the Canope.

  For the moment, she felt nothing.

  “I’d like to talk to Charity,” Marion said. The revenant had seen things in Sheol. She might know if Marion had witnessed Seth becoming what she thought, or if Marion was going completely crazy from having her essence destroyed.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Konig said. “The news keeps getting worse, princess. While you were gone…” He sighed. “I’ll have to show you.”

  Her heart jumped. “Show me what?”

  “Come,” he said.

  Konig wrapped furs around Marion and helped her down the hallway toward the courtyard where the refugee camp had been erected. She stepped onto the mezzanine.

  Nori was there, and she stiffened at the sight of Marion. Her eyes darted between Marion and Konig.

  “Thank the gods you’re okay,” Nori said hesitantly.

  Marion grimaced. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Thank the gods.”

  Nori obviously didn’t understand, but she nodded. “Anything.”

  Marion had to lean heavily on Konig as they walked toward the mezzanine’s railing together. It was so quiet in the courtyard. She could hear only the wind.

  Her foot caught on a furrow in the icy floor. She nearly tripped. “What happened there?” Marion asked.

  “This,” Konig said, resting her against the railing.

  The camp below was decimated. Every single bed and tent was shredded, and the wreckage was so severe that it took Marion a moment to realize that not all of it was inorganic.

  Those splashes of blue weren’t potions, but the strange, gem-colored blood of unseelie sidhe.

  The cloth wasn’t entirely canvas, but clothing.

  The refugees were dead.

  “No,” Marion whispered.

  She staggered down the spiral stairs, bundling the furs around herself so that she wouldn’t trip on them.

  “Wait,” Konig said. He hurried to catch up, and he reached Marion just in time, because her knees buckled on the bottommost stairs.

  “What happened?” she asked, clinging to his arm. “Where is everyone?”

  “There was only one survivor,” he said.

  Ymir was sitting on the very bottom step of the stairs, tousled white hair stuck to his forehead with blood. His cheeks and throat had been scratched. He gazed at Marion with haunted, hollow eyes and then dropped his head to his arms again.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He wouldn’t speak. He hugged his legs to his chest, bowed his face to his knees, and rocked in place without saying a word.

  Her relief at seeing the little frost giant was quickly overwhelmed by grief and horror.

  There was no motion in the camp. Just a lot of dismembered bodies that were getting rapidly covered by snow.

  “Cyprian?” Marion whispered, turning her eyes toward Nori at the top of the stairs.

  The other half-angel only shook her head.

  Marion tried to move out into the camp to search for survivors. She only made it two steps away from the stairs before her legs buckled again. This time, Konig let her fall. The icy cold that seeped through her shredded jeans was only fractionally worse than the cold spreading withi
n her heart.

  “Charity tried to save everyone, but she just ended up being taken,” Konig said. His hand rested on her shoulder.

  “Who did this?” Marion asked. It shocked her how calm she sounded. The frigidity had entered her soul.

  “It was Leliel,” Konig said. “She was infuriated that you missed another meeting, and she decided to retaliate.”

  Tears burned in Marion’s eyes. “By killing helpless refugees?”

  “I tried to save them, but…there’s only so much I could do against the might of an angel.” Konig swallowed audibly. His eyes shimmered, though it looked like he was blinking back tears of anger, not sadness. “We could have stopped this, Marion.”

  He was right. If she hadn’t run into Sheol to chase her memories, she’d have been able to negotiate with the angels.

  Marion picked up the remnants of a fur cloak. It was stained with the sparkling blood of sidhe.

  “I should never have left,” she whispered. Not the first time, or the second time, or…any time at all.

  The Winter Court had needed her. The steward.

  She had failed them all.

  “Don’t blame yourself for that,” Konig said. “You did what you needed to do to restore your memories. You had to go. But…” He looked away without finishing the sentence, and Marion appreciated his momentary discretion.

  He didn’t need to say anything else. Even if Marion hadn’t been there for the meetings, they could have brokered peace another way.

  She could have agreed to marry Konig when he’d proposed to her.

  “What will happen next?” she asked, letting the cloak fall from her hands.

  “We should fix our relationship with the EL,” Konig said. “We need to make it clear that we’re on the same side. If this is what one angel did to Niflheimr, think of what a concerted attack could do to the Autumn Court.”

  Marion could imagine it far too clearly.

  All those dead bodies. All that blood spilled.

  And many more orphaned children, just like Ymir.

  Marion was too late to save the refugees, but she could protect Konig’s family, his court, and his kingdom. “Ask me again,” she said, barely able to speak through the tears. She stood up and locked her knees. She wouldn’t fall again. She wouldn’t be weak anymore.