Blood for the Dancer

by Dallas Mullican

  Dustan grabbed the knife and focused his energy. He took a deep breath, and plunged the blade into his chest. Screaming in pain, he gouged a deep hole, reached in and plucked out his heart. How he still lived, he didn’t know and didn’t care. The heart slowed. Only a few beats more before it ceased forever. Dustan drew the spore from his jacket. He gazed down on the small spark, said a silent prayer to any god who might listen, and pressed the spore into the pulpy mass. With gentle affection and fervent hope, he placed the heart into Kyra’s body.

  Dustan pushed his back against the Obelisk. He felt no pain. His eyes flitted to narrow slits, his breathing slow and shallow. The heart he no longer possessed sank when Kyra’s violet aura blinked out. Tears fell from his eyes. Too late. He had been too late. On the verge of death, he saw Kyra lift a hand followed by a heave of her chest, and her mouth sucked at the air. Dustan smiled and slumped to the ground.

  35

  Feeling Blue

  “Up, up. Not a time to sleep the day away.”

  Dustan’s eyes snapped open. “Companion?”

  The chubby little creature blinked its three eyes and bobbed up and down. Dustan glanced around. He still lay next the Obelisk. Its beam and the web above appeared as they had before the ritual, only much brighter. The desert sprawled out endless and flat on three sides, the vast dark nothing stretching beyond the monument.

  “What happened? Where’s Kyra?” Dustan pushed to his feet, terror and anxiety lacing his words.

  “Here, my love.” Kyra stepped up from behind.

  She knelt beside him, clutching him tightly—their faces pressed together, their tears intermingling. After a long grateful embrace, she pulled back and looked at him with a tired smile. It took a moment for Dustan to understand what appeared different about her. No aura. He rubbed his eyes and jerked his hands back. A thick, translucent membrane covered them. He tore open his shirt. Within his body, brilliant cobalt light swirled. At the center of his chest, a core of darker blue pulsed in a slow rhythm.

  “What. The. Hell?” he asked, still staring at himself.

  “Quite a shock for me too,” said Kyra.

  “Can someone tell me what is going on here?” Dustan swayed, dizziness spinning his head.

  “Allow me to enlighten you.” Companion waddled close. “Kyra’s heart now powers the Obelisk. The blade severed the force and brought down the walls separating the realms. Until she offered a substitute source, and the change took effect, all the portals in the universe lay open, and the Veil dissipated.”

  “Did the angels or demons get in?” Dustan stared at the creature, fear worming into his gut.

  “No. Not enough time. The very reason they desired to kill Kyra. They needed to freeze the ritual.” Companion blinked and Dustan understood it to mean ‘stop interrupting me.’ “If she had died before completing the transference, the Veil would remain down. The greater strength of Kyra’s unique core has rendered the gates and the Veil impassable. The barrier wall between the realms allows no travel from one to another.”

  “So we’re stuck here in this wasteland?” asked Dustan.

  “No. This is a crossroads, a place where all the realms converge. We may enter another, one suited to our forms, but never return here or venture to any other.” Companion wobbled across the dirt.

  “What happens after death now?” asked Dustan.

  “Humans remain bound to the mortal realm until their physical deaths. At that time, they become fully spirit in the form of a soul and join their kind in the spirit world or the In Between, depending on allegiance. Spirits can no longer cross into the human dimension. Every being and creature throughout all the realms finds the Great Tree again in the end, with the exception of angels and demons, who are tied to the Void as human souls are linked to the spirit realms.”

  “Huh, can you repeat that?” Dustan’s mind whirled.

  Companion bobbed and blinked rapidly. “All creatures are now restricted from crossing into any realm not suited to their forms.” Blink, bob. “Understand?”

  “Not really. But so long as angels and demons can’t get to other dimensions, it’s good enough for me.”

  Kyra rapped him on the arm and turned to Companion. “That’s how you left the Garden? When the Veil went down?”

  “Yes. I assume I am unique, or else I would not have been there.”

  “Where will you go?” asked Dustan, a wave of sympathy washing over him.

  “I have lived too long. I will go somewhere comfortable and live out my final days.” He waddled close and spun on his rump.

  Dustan shook his head. “None of this explains why I’m a blue man, Kyra lacks her aura, and either of us is still alive.”

  “We did take a detour, didn’t we,” said Companion. “Kyra existed as spirit so long as the Obelisk processed the new power source. You see, the realms remained interconnected. All realms exist here, so all life can live here. The Obelisk fed her until the procedure was complete. She would die once the barrier effected the gates and created an impenetrable wall between the realms. You intervened. As both human and spirit, you gave her your human essence, and in turn, you lived on as spirit. The spore proved beneficial as well. Attached to the human heart, it created human life within Kyra. The barrier erected, and presto, Kyra is now human, you are spirit.”

  Dustan plopped down on the ground. “Wow. Think I need a minute.”

  “I would stay seated, if I were you,” said Companion.

  Dustan glanced up with apprehension.

  “Kyra carried another spirit within her. The spore created human life throughout her—all of her.”

  Kyra gasped. Dustan stared. He had no idea what the creature was talking about. All of this would take some time to assimilate. His eyes darted from Companion to Kyra. She sat down beside him and kissed him.

  “I think he is saying we’re going to have a baby.” Kyra smiled.

  Dustan rocked back and almost lost consciousness. “Wha…what?”

  Companion bobbed and blinked, shuffling around the base of the Obelisk. Dustan bounced to his feet, grabbed Kyra, and twirled her through the air. Her giggle, her mere presence, warmed him inside. A baby. He would be a father. His mind began to plan the child’s entire future.

  Dustan went stone still.

  “What’s wrong? Dustan?” Kyra squeezed his arm, gazing up concerned.

  He turned to Companion. “We can’t stay together, can we?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Blink, bob.

  Kyra turned from one to the other. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m spirit now. The gates closed, so I can’t enter the human realm. There’s no way to get back to recharge. I’d die. You can’t live in the spirit realm.” Dustan’s head dropped.

  Tears welled and streamed down Kyra’s cheeks. She stomped her foot, banging a fist against her thigh. “It’s so unfair. After all this. We survived when it should have been impossible and now we lose each other anyway.”

  Dustan took her by the arms and turned her to him. “Someone once told me a year or a hundred is nothing compared to ten thousand. You and our child will join me in the blink of an eye.”

  She pressed her head against his chest. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “And I don’t want to be apart from you, but we have no choice. We’ve made the best of many terrible situations. This isn’t so bad by comparison. A few years apart, and several thousand together. A decent trade when we could be dead right now.”

  “When did you become an optimist?” Kyra attempted to muster a smile.

  “When I met you. The constant hope of loving you kept me going all this time.”

  “This is becoming far too sappy for my liking,” said Companion, bobbing and blinking.

  “Come here you, give us a hug,” said Dustan with a laugh.

  “I think not. You are so…disgusting.”

  The central cathedral stood packed with unaligned. Endless crowds filled the plaza and stretched out into the count
ryside. The tower flames blazed; the bells rang long and loud. Dustan gazed out on the mass of spirits from the dais. All wore their finest robes. A myriad of vivid colors fluttered through the great hall like grounded birds. Hadraniel smiled and waved to the gathering. He nodded to Dustan who followed suit. As his hand lifted to the crowd, a rowdy cheer spread across the building. Unaccustomed to the acclaim, he reddened and tried to maintain a pleased expression. Kandral and Manruk roared loudest of all. Dustan smiled and gave them a wink.

  Once the festival ended and the multitudes dispersed, Dustan followed Hadraniel to his chambers. It was a shabby little place—larger and more lavish than the Vatican—and they sat by the fire as they talked.

  “How does it feel to be a hero to incalculable numbers?” asked Hadraniel with a wry grin.

  “The same as not being one, only with a lot more folks around.”

  Dustan leaned back in the plush chair and noticed his hands on the armrests. He still wasn’t used to the way he looked. Spirits weren’t big on mirrors, so he avoided seeing himself often. Fortunately, he didn’t require urination unless he decided to drink something for enjoyment. He forewent all liquids and food, putting off a look down there. Though, the curiosity was killing him.

  “You miss your family don’t you?” Hadraniel clasped his hands in his lap.

  “Yes. I know a day here is a hundred in the human realm, or something close, but time seems to have stopped. I won’t get to raise my child, or see them grow. Without Kyra, I feel like an arm is missing—a piece of myself is gone. It hurts.”

  “I understand. I never had a family, but I’ve come to think of all the unaligned as my children. I care for each of them.” Hadraniel leaned toward him. “What you and Kyra did for us, for all the realms, can never be repaid.”

  “Like you told me, any world to survive would not have been a place worth living in. We did what we had to.”

  Hadraniel shook his head. “On the surface, all true I suppose. It does not lessen your sacrifice or heroism, or our gratitude.”

  “I appreciate it. I do. I’m not used to the attention. I’ve lived under the radar all my life in one way or another.” Dustan crossed his legs and fidgeted with his robe. He still felt naked or just out of the shower in the thing.

  “The attention will fade in time.” Hadraniel winked. “Our thanks and admiration will not, however, so best get used to it.”

  “There are worse things,” said Dustan with a smile.

  Epilogue

  Kyra watched her son tear across the playground, leap to the monkey bars, and swing his way across. A brazen daredevil, he was frightened by nothing. She allowed his dark, brown hair to grow long, touching his collar in the back. He looked so much like his father. The thought brought a sad smile to her lips.

  She had opened a dance school for children to fill her days, and tried to fit into the course of mortal life. Living as a human required a good deal of patience and practice. Though she had mimicked them for years, actually being one herself was a whole other matter. More than one embarrassing moment had transpired thus far. A million things she had been able to forego previously now became necessities. She might never get used to suffering colds or dealing with the allergies she had developed.

  Dorian came running over. “Mom, can I get a popsicle? I hear the ice cream truck coming.”

  She reached out and tossed a lock of his curly hair from his eyes. “I suppose so.”

  Kyra stood and took his hand. They strolled to the street, listening to the distorted jangle draw near. She had decided to live in Mississippi, close to the river. Dustan so often spoke of the place, it made her feel closer to him. Ten years had passed, but it seemed a hundred. Time moved so slowly here. Kyra often played a game with herself, wondering what he might be doing at a precise moment. Was he thinking of her? His son? She doubted his thoughts ever turned to anything else.

  They walked along the river. Dorian paused every few feet to skip a stone across the water, clutching his popsicle tight in the other hand. When he picked up a stick and brandished it like a sword, a tear welled and fell down her cheek. He noticed and ran over.

  “What’s wrong, Mom? Get a boo boo?” His wide concerned eyes made her chuckle as she wiped the tear away with a sleeve.

  “No. I’m okay. I was thinking about your father.” Kyra sat down on a bench and lifted Dorian onto her lap.

  “When do we get to see him?” The boy gazed up with brilliant blue eyes.

  “Someday. Not so long.” She grinned and tousled his hair.

  Kyra never referred to Dustan as dead or gone. She explained he lived in a place far away and they would see him soon. Perhaps not the best way to teach their son. How would he handle the truth when he was old enough to understand?

  “Tell me about Dad again,” said Dorian.

  “Brave, kind, and handsome just like you.” She kissed him on the forehead.

  “What’s it like where he is?”

  “Oh, it’s a beautiful place. A great building sits on the plaza. Giant, green flames burn over a tower so high up its spires tickle the sky.” Kyra goosed him under the arms. He squealed and squirmed. “The city is amazing. Mansions bigger than any you can imagine sit at the top of long spiraling staircases that seem to float in the air. Out in the country, rolling hills and fields of blue-green grass spread out like a sea…”

  Aamon glared at himself in the glassy portal. His face still bore disfiguring scars. No wound had ever required so long to heal. The power Dustan wielded tasted sour on his tongue. He could not forget the feel or the scent of it. Dustan. Aamon seethed with hatred. He dreamed of wrapping his hands around the boy’s throat. Blackened hands twisted the air.

  “I can think of no way, my Lord. With the library destroyed and the script indecipherable, we possess no means of understanding the Veil or the gates.” Geras kept his distance, his anxious movements betraying his fear. “What was done is beyond us. It cannot be undone.

  Aamon spun on the old demon, his eyes leaking scarlet energy. “You will discover a way or I will find someone who can. If you are of no use to me, perhaps your skin would make a fine rug.”

  Geras stepped back and bowed his head. “I will find a way.”

  “Nothing else matters, Geras, but this one thing. Not the realm, nor the war. I will give my rule to see the boy suffer. His torture will be legendary. Imagining his sweet screams is the only thing that grants me solace.” Aamon paced, his hands clasped behind him.

  “I understand, my Lord.” Geras bowed again and moved away with haste.

  The Demon Lord snarled at the portal and spun on his heels. He drew his sword, bringing it ablaze with his scarlet-hued power. He slashed an X in the air and stormed down the ice shelf. A battle raged below. The flats lay covered in demon and angel armies, the skies filled with Hunters and Slayers. Umbra steeds gushed fire as wolfdragons tore nandi limb from limb. The talons of gryphons ripped enemies apart. A hundred thousand angels waited, each wearing the face of his bitter enemy. The Betrayer. Aamon gritted his teeth and waded into the press.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to my beta readers Sean Kendrick, Tina Beck, Patricia Statham, Louise Feagans, and Becky Narron.

  Matthew Cox and Rick Pieters for their editing expertise.

  Margie and Alan England, and Melea Mullican for their unending patience and support.

  About the Author

  After spending twenty years as the lead singer of a progressive metal band, Dallas Mullican turned his creative impulses toward writing. Raised on King, Barker, and McCammon, he moved on to Poe and Lovecraft, enamored with the macabre. During his time at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, where he received degrees in English and Philosophy, Dallas developed a love for the Existentialists, Shakespeare, Faulkner, and many more great authors and thinkers. Incorporating this wide array of influences, he entices the reader to fear the bump in the night, think about the nature of reality, and question the motives of their fellow humans.

/>   A pariah of the Deep South, Dallas doesn't understand NASCAR, hates Southern rock and country music, and believes the great outdoors consists of walking to the mailbox and back. He remains a metalhead at heart, and can be easily recognized by his bald head and Iron Maiden t-shirt.

  Facebook: facebook.com/authordallasmullican

  Website – http://www.dallasmullican.wixsite.com

  Other Titles by Dallas Mullican

  Forthcoming Novels in The Horde and the Host Trilogy

  The Sun at Night (Book II)

  Cry of the Unspoken (Book III)

  Detective Marlowe Gentry Thriller Series

  A Coin for Charon

  The Dark Age

  October’s Children

  Stand Alone Novels

  The Music of Midnight