by J. C. Staudt
“So wait. No more tricks?”
“No more tricks,” he says. “It’s official. I mean, my boss is standing right here.”
“I will pull you in half,” Malanx threatens.
“Don’t do that,” I say. “You’ve got a good thing going with this one. Calyxto is more fiend than any other servant you’ve got. He’s also more human. And as every great salesman knows, understanding your target market is the key to success.”
Malanx flicks her eyes to Calyxto and grunts. “The wizard says you can live.”
Calyxto floats down, opening the book and resting it on my now-empty lap. “I believe this is the spell you’re looking for.”
“What are you doing?” Shenn wants to know. She looks to the horizon, where Elona and her forces are drawing nearer.
“Casting the forbidden spell,” I say, reading it over.
“You can’t do that.”
“Mustn’t,” adds Mazriel. “You mustn’t do that.”
“We’re not getting rid of Elona with a peace treaty.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that the sidhe of the Fae Council needs a sound ass-kicking. Demons need to be summoned to the mortal realm one by one. But what if we could get them here without summoning them? This spell opens a temporary gate between realms. We can bring the underworld to us. All we have to do is open the door and let them in.”
“The borders between realms are sealed for a reason,” Mazriel says.
“I agree. And now we’ve got a reason to open them.”
“Hell yeah,” says Calyxto. “I like your style. Unleash the hounds.”
I wipe the raindrops of Irys’s blood off my head and shoulders and rub it into my hands, adding its power to the demon blood inside me as I start the invocation. Irys would be pissed if she knew her blood was being used to summon an army of her enemies. It tastes like justice.
Forbidden magic may be dangerous, but it’s what I live for. I’ve banished souls; summoned demons; probed the limits of distant realms; and sifted through other dimensions in search of my past. Speaking the dark words held within this book gives me the truest sense of my life’s calling I’ve ever felt before. I risk a glance at Shenn, now kneeling beside Mazriel with her father. In that moment, I realize something.
I’m not the leader of the Guardians. She is.
I’m not a prince, or a king, even if my bloodline says I should be. I’ll never be a great leader like my dad, and I need to stop forcing myself into a shoe that doesn’t fit. I’m a wizard. Magic is what I do. I could abandon my identity and live as a different person forever, but I could never give up spellcasting. I would be me if I had another name, but I wouldn’t be me without the thing I love most in the world.
Gray mist swirls from my fingertips, gathering in a ghostly stormcloud beside the furnace tower. A dusky lens appears within its midst, flattening until it’s so thin it becomes transparent. When I look through the lens, I don’t see the rest of Zug Island behind it. I find instead a sweltering landscape of bright rippling flame.
All at once the lens surges to blue-violet life, its edges shimmering. The rim fuses with the surrounding air, and a sheath of silver glass wipes itself across the sky like a hand clearing a steamed mirror.
The first tiny demon zips into the lens with a smack and slides down it with a cartoonish scrubbing sound. A dozen more follow, then two dozen, then three. By the time the portal is ready to open, the entire lens is black with demons, blotting out the fiery hues of their underworld domain. They’re raring to go, and anxious to do their master’s bidding. Shit’s about to hit the intradimensional fan.
Chapter 32
The lens shatters, spilling the forces of the Demon Princess in a seething mass which buzzes like hell’s own mosquitos. Malanx lifts a hand toward the oncoming fae. All she has to do is point, and it’s off to the races.
Elona’s bright shining star slows to a halt.
There’s a pause. Then a wave of white light pulses out from her, blasting a swath through the demonic forces. Demons scream and disintegrate and tumble from the sky. The gate is still open, and the putrid black stream of Malanx’s air force is far from done pouring through. Thousands become tens of thousands; those increase beyond count.
“So that’s why that’s forbidden, huh?” Urdal remarks, observing the deluge with a fascinated sort of curiosity.
The noise of the rushing demons rises to a waterfall-like crescendo. Elona emits another burst of light and shreds hundreds more, but they’re as thick as flies in the air now, a black cloud descending on the sidhe and her fairies. Smaller spells zip and sizzle through the air, glittering with fairy dust which belies their destructive intent.
“We’d better get out of here,” I suggest. “Whichever way this fight goes, we’re in a bad spot.”
Mazriel and Shenn let go of Ryovan so Urdal can toss him over one shoulder and carry him down the stairs. I close the grimoire, slip it into a pocket of extradimensional space behind my wrist, and follow them. We descend from the tower and circle its base to find Des’s mangled body lying in a heap of industrial refuse. A rusty length of steel rebar protrudes from her chest. When she breathes, her throat makes a rough wheezing sound. Shenn and Mazriel rush to her side, the former crying fresh tears and the latter casting a spell. Urdal is so dismayed at the sight he falters on his feet and almost drops Ryovan.
Mazriel touches Desdemona’s forehead with her spell.
“It’s… too late,” Des manages, her voice strained and coarse. “Soothing magic… won’t help.”
I climb the heap of junk. “Move aside, please.”
Shenn and Mazriel shift to give me kneeling room.
“You’re not dying tonight, Des. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”
Des smiles, baring her fangs. “Leave me be, Cade. It’s time. I want to be with Ry—” she breaks off as her body convulses with fresh pain.
“Nope. Sorry.” I cast the same sawblade spell as before, only instead of tossing it like a frisbee I hold on and shear off the end of the rebar. “You’re a dhampir. You’ll get better. Help me with her.”
I extinguish the spell, and together the three of us lift Des. There’s a thin grinding sound as the steel slides free of her body. Shenn and I haul her to her feet and support her beneath the arms as we descend the junk pile.
“Are you breathing alright?” I ask.
Des’s eyes are fixed on Ryovan. Her rasping breaths begin to clear. “Wish I wasn’t.”
“Did anyone approach you during the battle to warn you about the demons?”
Des frowns. Shakes her head.
“Calyxto, I’ve got one last job for you,” I tell him. “There’s a guy named Steve somewhere on the island. He’s tall and skinny. Brown hair. Wears thick-framed glasses. I don’t know what’s happened to him. I want you to find him, dead or alive, and get him home. Can you do that for me, and let me know how he is when you find him?”
“I’m on it.” With a flash of his cheshire grin, Calyxto winks out.
“Where’s the van?” I ask.
“This way,” says Shenn.
While the night sky erupts in comets of sparkly light and bursts of dark magic, we drag our weary asses to the auto bridge on Zug Island’s north shore. A white Fitzroy’s Dairy van is parked in a wide cul-de-sac on the far side. We cross the bridge and help Des into the van. Urdal lays Ryovan’s body on a cot in the back. I slide into the passenger seat with an assault rifle across my lap while Shenn takes the wheel and drives us home, her face streaming with tears.
I don’t remember the ride to the hospital. As soon as my head hits the back of the van’s bucket seat, I’m out. No dreams. No nightmares. Just the unparalleled bliss of much-needed—and much-deserved, if I do say so myself—sleep.
I wake to find myself floating horizontally down the hospital hallway, looking up the stony nostrils of my favorite gargoyle. I’m surprised she agreed to leave Baz’s side
on my behalf, but I won’t argue.
The hospital bed is softer than anything. Literally—anything. It’s made of heavenly clouds, and the corkboard on the wall with cards and letters pinned to it is the most comforting sight I’ve ever seen, for all of the half-second I can keep my eyes open.
Morning has come and gone by the time I wake up. The grimoire lies beside me on the floor, having fallen out of my short-term extradimensional sleeve. I relish in the safety of a magically warded hospital, think of the army of demons making the lives of Elona Anarian and her media cohorts a living hell, and sleep for another hour.
When I finally wander out of my room, the hallways are quiet. Satielle appears through a nearby wall. She stands and studies me without a word. Her sadness is palpable, so I stop and wait while she decides what to do. She turns down the hallway, and I follow.
Ryovan’s body lies on a clean bed in an empty hospital room. A white sheet is pulled up over his face, but the shape of him beneath is unmistakable. Satielle passes through the closed door; I open it and go inside. I guess everyone’s gone off to mourn him in their own separate places.
I sit in a chair beside the bed while Satielle occupies an empty corner.
Minutes pass. I don’t know what I’d say to him if I could, so I say nothing.
“We’re in big trouble now,” says a voice from behind me.
Shenn’s eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks drained of color, her posture weary. There’s no trace left of the fun-loving, bebopping twenty-something girl who can never get enough coffee and is mad over Green Mercury. She’s changed. And looking at her, I happen to think it’s for the better.
“Yeah,” I agree. “He’s irreplaceable.”
“You’re going to try, though. Right?” Her tone is derisive.
I look at her. “No. I’m not.”
She frowns. “What are you going to do?”
“I left the Book of the Sightless on my bed. I’m leaving, Shenn.”
“Leaving where?”
“Leaving the hospital. To you.”
“You can’t do that. This place is yours.”
I pause. “I’m glad my father was a good man. I’m proud of him for what he did, and I’m glad he set you all on this path. But I’m not him. I’m not meant for this. You are.”
“You were born for it.”
A lump rises in my throat. Maybe it’s the demon flesh wanting to come up again. Or maybe it’s the guilt. “If there’s one thing my time with the Guardians has taught me, it’s that being born for great things does not in any way qualify you to do them.”
“Whoever said leaders are born and not made was full of shit. Leaders are made, and you’re one in the making.”
“I can’t keep risking your safety while I learn. You all deserve better than that. The Guardians deserve you, Shenn. Your dad said you wanted me to stop straddling the fence. This is me stopping. Life as two different people is wearing me down. If I don’t embrace Arden Savage all the way, I have to leave him behind.”
“Then leave him, Cade. You’re supposed to be here with us.”
I give her a somber smile. “Maybe in another life. Say goodbye for me, will you? I hope Baz is back to his old self soon. And Des, too. Tell Mazriel she kicked major ass last night. You all did.”
Shenn tightens her lips. A nod is her only reply.
I kneel in front of Satielle and raise one hand like a stop sign. “How about one last high five for the road?”
Sadness writes itself across the halfling’s features. She takes a swing, and I feel the wind of her. I stand, smile down at her, and leave the hospital.
When I emerge into the golden afternoon, there’s a whimper from a stand of bushes along the hospital wall. I stop and look. “Githryx?”
The imp peers out, chin quivering.
“What are you doing here?”
“Come home. Want to go in, but scared of them.”
“You should be scared, after what you did.”
“Had to. Had no choice. Dhampir lady say she come for others if I don’t tell her. Say she take my wings. Find HQ and kill everyone.”
“Clearly she was lying to you. She would’ve killed us all anyway for interfering at the portals. Ryovan’s dead, Githryx. Irys almost killed Des, too. If she was pressuring you into helping her by threatening your wellbeing or theirs, you should’ve come to Ryovan with it. That was really stupid.”
“I know. I know. I don’t mean to. I no want make hurt. I only do it to protect.”
“The Guardians were your friends. They trusted you. Trust isn’t easy to rebuild.”
“I go with you, maybe?” he asks, perking up.
I shake my head. “No, Githryx.”
The imp’s expression sours. “I have nowhere go. Except underworld.”
“Give it a few days. If you walk in there now, you’re not coming out in one piece. The only way I see this working out for you is if you get on your knees and beg their forgiveness. Apologize for what you’ve done, and hope that after you’ve groveled for a while they see fit to take pity on you.”
He folds his hands at his waist, knees turned inward. “I do that.”
“Good luck,” I say, and turn to leave.
“You go home?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’m going home.” I stop, remembering something. “Githryx. Who did you see in the lava tubes? Who came to you?”
He looks at his feet, hesitating.
“Who did you see, Githryx?”
A small shake of the head. “Lava Tubes of Betrayal show who you betray.”
“You betrayed the Guardians. So who did you see?”
He meets my eye.
I see what’s there, and suddenly it’s clear. “Was it my father?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
I catch a bus on the corner and enter my apartment to find Ersatz snoozing away. I tiptoe into my room and close the door. Shoes come off, and I fling myself onto the bed, where I spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling with my hands laced behind my head.
This is the right decision, I assure myself. It’s true, what I told Shenn. Strange as it was to experience a perspective change while traipsing through the underworld, my encounter with Arden in the lava tubes did it for me. I understand, whether Arden’s visage was real or imagined, that he’s not going to like me living on his behalf no matter what I do. That at least, I’ve come to grips with. But as long as leaving Cade Cadigan behind makes me and the people I care about safer, Arden’s just going to have to deal with it.
Shenn knows this. Deep down, she knows the Guardians are better off without me. Elona Anarian can take her wrath out on me if she wants. So can the Warrendale Crew, and any of the other enemies I’ve made or will make in the days to come. Their business is with me, not my friends. Saying goodbye was the best thing for everyone, even though it hurts.
Chapter 33
“Give the guy another chance, sis. He’s a good dude.”
“I don’t think so,” says Carmine Savage, voice crackling over the line. “He totally freaked me out with all that voodoo spirit magic stuff.”
“They’re childhood hobbies. He was sharing a part of himself with you. Opening up. It’s nothing to stay upset over. I’m pretty sure he’s past all that now, anyway.”
“Why do you care so much? You never like the guys I date. By virtue of the fact that I’m dating them.”
“Steve’s different. He isn’t like all the other selfish jerks you’ve been with. I’ve gotten to know him a little bit, and I get the impression he really lays out for his friends.”
“I don’t know, Ardy. That was a pretty weird side of himself to show me.”
“We all have our weird sides. Give him another chance. He deserves one.”
She sighs. “We’ll see. If he wants me back, he has to make the first move.”
“Fair enough. I’ve gotta run, I’ll talk to you soon.”
I hang up and turn to Ersatz. “That went well.”
“Did it? She sounded hesitant.”
“She is. She’ll come around.”
“How did it feel, setting up the woman you love with another man?”
“If I’m going to be her brother, I need to be just that and nothing else.”
“A mature sensibility. What about Steve?”
“Steve’s turned over a new leaf. It took a few incantations, a nighttime vigil, and some reverse-engineering, but his succubus lover is long gone. He’s now sworn off demon-summoning and everything to do with the occult.”
“Seems you’ve made a new friend.”
“That friendship has come to an end. It would’ve been nice to hang out with him as Cade, but hopefully I’ll get to know him as Arden. Especially if he’s Carmine’s boyfriend again.” I look at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m headed out to you-know-where.”
“And you’re certain you don’t want me to come?”
“Thanks, but I can take care of this one.”
I head downtown in the Maserati and park in front of the Detroit Opera House, where crowds in formal attire are gathering for showtime. Before stepping out of the car, I remove the spellvault pendant and crack into Cade Cadigan form. Ersatz got the magic worked out pretty quickly once he’d gotten a good night’s sleep under his belt. No puns.
When I arrive in the upstairs conference room, I find four chairs at the long table occupied by Sebastian Bordeaux, Moira Hesperia, Xender Ozul, and Felix Mottrov. I nod hello and take a seat. It’s nice being myself—acting human—around them.
“I believe this is what you came for,” says Felix, sliding a grimoire-shaped brown paper package across the table toward me.
“It is. Thanks.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian says. “You’ve done the covens a great service. Our dhampir servants are infinitely more manageable these days.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Now, as to the issue of the whispering steel.”
“Here it is,” I say, and slide a much smaller package across the table toward him.
“To be delivered to Elona Anarian on your behalf.”