Sorceress

by Claudia Gray

  “We’re ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  This was glory manifest.

  Elizabeth threw her head back in exhilaration. Every crack in the world’s foundation felt like silk against her skin. Every quake of the earth’s crust shuddered through her like pleasure.

  The water in the sound was boiling away before her eyes. Not boiling exactly—there was no heat to temper the wet, bitter cold—but bubbling up, surging away, revealing the first breach between the mortal and demonic realms. This was His doorway, His portal. He was coming closer to all places on earth now, surging up from below to turn this entire world into His possession, His playground.

  “At last,” Elizabeth said. She had fallen forward onto her hands and knees at some point; she didn’t know when, and didn’t care. Wet sand was caked in her long hair, and the grit was rough on her legs and palms. Her body shook with barely repressed laughter. “At last—”

  And then a tremor. An interruption. As though the destruction whirling upward and outward were a symphony, but at the center of the music was a single off-key note growing louder and louder.

  Nadia.

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. The girl was free to destroy herself through her arrogance if she liked. None of her magic could avail her against the One Beneath now. But she was ruining the perfection of Elizabeth’s greatest triumph and that—that, she would not endure.

  She pushed herself to her feet and walked steadily into the water. The waves surged around her, through her, splintering her into a thousand pieces and putting her together again.

  Screams and shouts of alarm welcomed her. Elizabeth pulled the waters around her like a cloak, then let them splash down around her as she stood within a vast empty room—the Cabot family home; she knew it from eras past. The few people huddled near the stairs gaping at her were not her concern. Not while Nadia Caldani stood before her. Mateo Perez was here, too, her old toy and future slave, and the gray-haired girl who . . .

  Elizabeth recognized the glow of love around Verlaine, the glow that was rightfully her own but had been stolen by Asa before he was cast down. Her fury only grew.

  “Oh, my God,” said Nadia’s father, the one Elizabeth had attempted to seduce. That failure had mattered little to her before, but now it was just one more reason to loathe everyone in front of her.

  “Is this the Sorceress?” This was spoken by a lanky woman of adult years, bedraggled and wan.

  “Yes,” Nadia said. She pulled the gray-haired girl to her. “But she’s too late.”

  And then—

  The magic was one that Elizabeth herself had never worked, yet she recognized it instinctively. Nadia was taking advantage of the thin barriers between the realms; she was leaving this world. As the portal between the worlds widened, Nadia intended to leap through it.

  Elizabeth reached for her, but already Nadia and the gray-haired girl were—not vanishing, but somehow becoming thinner, as if they could be folded up within the air itself. In a flash, they were gone. The air popped softly, rushing in to fill the spaces they’d left behind. Nadia’s father swore under his breath, and the woman at the edge of the room, with her dark skin and bright clothing, gasped out loud.

  It didn’t matter. Nadia was too late now.

  But how dare she see the One Beneath’s true face before Elizabeth herself had the chance? How dare she steal this one last thing?

  Elizabeth would follow her there.

  It’s like the world turned inside out, Verlaine thought.

  At least, that was as close as she could come to thought. Fear and confusion gripped her as though in a powerful fist, and she was sure of nothing except Nadia still hanging on to her, and the need to hang on to Nadia in return.

  She’d envisioned the demonic realm as looking like something off a death-metal album cover: fire, lava, caverns, the works. But she’d been thinking of it as just another place she could go, a place like any other. The demonic realm existed on a completely different plane from anything Verlaine had ever known—from anything she might recognize as reality.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw visions that looked like the time someone had pushed her off the playground swing set, and when she fell hard on the ground, for a moment she’d only been able to see the pattern of veins behind her eyes. Or was it like a photographic negative? Whatever it was, it changed and writhed and pulsed . . .

  Like we’re inside something alive, she realized, her gut clenching.

  That explained why she could only smell blood.

  “Nadia! What’s happening?” she shrieked over the roar of wind, rushing water, and screams.

  “We’re okay!” Nadia shouted back.

  Apparently they had very different definitions of okay. “What do we do?”

  “Not yet. Hang on! You’re protecting me!”

  That is NOT what this feels like.

  Verlaine opened her eyes again, meaning to plead with Nadia to get them out of this before they went any farther. (But they weren’t descending, of that Verlaine was sure; it was less that they were going down, because up and down didn’t exist here, but they were getting deeper. Getting to the center.) Then she realized that a strange bluish light clung to her and to Nadia, so pale and filmy that it reminded her of cobwebs. “What is that?”

  Nadia called back, “The love Asa stole for you! It’s more than anybody should have—strong enough to carry us here—”

  Had Asa known he was shielding her? Had he guessed this would happen?

  Verlaine wasn’t sure. She only knew that, even as she watched, the soft blue light tore. Shredded. It seemed to rip apart and go dark, thread by thread.

  Even love could only protect her for so long.

  Mateo had been raised to never, ever hit a girl.

  Obviously Elizabeth didn’t count.

  He didn’t swing at her. He lunged, ready to tackle her against the floor and knock her senseless—but even as he moved, something jerked him back so powerfully that he flew across the room and thudded into the wall. The breath knocked out of him, he had to gasp for air as he slid onto the floor.

  “You think you can hold me,” Elizabeth said. “You forget that I hold you, my future demon.”

  “You forget that I’m standing right here,” said Mrs. Caldani.

  Before Elizabeth had time to react, Nadia’s mom cast—some spell, Mateo didn’t know what, but whatever it was looked like fire and made Elizabeth scream. But Elizabeth threw something back at her that made Mrs. Caldani stagger and fall to her knees. Mr. Caldani went to her, his arm around her shoulders, but Mrs. Caldani didn’t even seem to notice.

  “And you,” Elizabeth said, wheeling on Faye Walsh. Faye stood there, fists at her sides, obviously wanting to do something but—like Mateo—not knowing what. “Your Steadfast powers are withered, like the witch who linked herself to you.”

  Faye flinched. Mateo knew that the witch in question was her elderly mother, who had Alzheimer’s. It was cruel of Elizabeth to throw that in Faye’s face, but what about Elizabeth wasn’t cruel?

  Elizabeth continued, “Still, two Steadfasts in the same room will give me the power to follow Nadia. I will kill her before the eyes of the One Beneath, and when we ascend to this world, we will be wearing her blood.”

  Mateo’s stomach turned over, but he lifted his chin and said, “Okay. Try it.”

  She stared at him, and he knew she’d sensed that his defiance wasn’t just bravado. Maybe she hadn’t thought this far ahead yet.

  The thing about chaining a future demon to you was this—You were also chained to him. Elizabeth couldn’t leave this realm, not while her bonds to Mateo were intact.

  Her jaw tightened. Her gaze darkened, and the strange powers rippling around her seemed to intensify. It was all Mateo could do not to laugh in her face. “Guess you’ll have to let me go.”

  Elizabeth cocked her head. “It will be quicker to kill you.”

  She lifted her hand, something brilliant flared all around them—


  —and the water started rushing in.

  How can water be flowing uphill? That was Simon Caldani’s first thought. But why was he even questioning what was possible in a world with magic? Everything was possible. Anything could turn against them, at any moment.

  Waves gushed through the doors. Water broke the panes of the windows. Trickles of water ran across the floor, finding each other and becoming puddles. Simon grabbed Kim and towed her to her feet. Still dazed, she fought him at first, then sagged against his shoulder.

  He held her tightly. God, she feels like skin and bones. All this time he’d spent angry with Kim—trying to make himself hate her—and really she’d given up everything to protect their daughter. We’ll fix this, he swore to her silently.

  First they had to live through the night.

  “Simon!” Faye shouted. She had run to the front door, which was shuddering in the lock, water spurting through the smallest cracks at the hinges. “Help me!”

  He picked Kim up in his arms, took her halfway up the staircase, and set her down. She hardly seemed to notice. Then he ran to Faye’s side. Together they put their backs against the door, trying to keep the water from gushing in so fast they would drown. But no. That couldn’t be possible.

  Could it?

  “We’re in a two-story house,” he gasped. “Elizabeth could flood the whole thing?”

  “She could drown us in this house and set it on fire at the same time,” Faye said. “Welcome to witchcraft.”

  “We can’t let this happen. If Nadia’s hurt—”

  “She won’t be. I believe in her. We’re not letting it happen.”

  Faye couldn’t know that, not really, but it helped him just to hear it.

  The door bucked against them so hard it seemed to hit Simon in the back of his head. Although the world went fuzzy for a moment, he braced his legs and pushed back harder. Next to him, Faye spread her arms wider, attempting to balance.

  He could just see into the great room, the floor of which was already covered in water a few inches deep. Mateo sat on the floor, letting the water flow around him as he stared up at Elizabeth. “What’s the matter?” Mateo said, a smile on his face. “Your magic isn’t working as well as you thought? Nadia said even your powers had a limit, and breaking the worlds to bring the One Beneath here—that’s as much as you can do.”

  “Not for long,” Elizabeth said, so flatly, with such certainty, that Simon shuddered.

  Nadia could sense the One Beneath all around them. Literally—this realm both enclosed Him and was Him. She imagined she could hear blood rushing through great veins, or the heavy low pumping of an enormous heart. But those were illusions, her mind trying to make sense of something completely outside human experience.

  Her only comfort was Verlaine, who held on to her with all her might. That was an act of will, not of strength; physical effort meant nothing here. It was Verlaine’s determination and courage that bound her to Nadia—that and the incredible depth of love around and within her.

  Not all that love was the result of Asa’s spell, either. Here, in the absolute darkest place anyone could be, Verlaine’s goodness shone more brightly than ever before.

  I hope I can be as strong for her, Nadia thought.

  She looked upward—again, an illusion, but her spirit sought Mateo and would find him if he were here. They’d talked about the bonds of his oath; the same power that condemned him should be enough to hold Elizabeth in place. If Nadia was wrong, or if Elizabeth had simply struck him down, Mateo would soon be here in hell alongside her, without any hope of escape.

  Yet Mateo wasn’t with her, not yet. Nadia would have felt relieved if the strangeness whipping around her, reverberating within her, were not becoming more chaotic and violent by the second.

  To Verlaine she shouted, “When I tell you to, let go of me. And scream for Asa as loudly as you possibly can.”

  “I don’t want to let go of you!” Verlaine’s face was just in front of hers, her silver-gray hair twisting and floating in the unearthly winds.

  “You have to.” For the last terrible moment, Nadia would have to stand alone.

  At that moment, the darkness around them shifted. Took form. It seemed to Nadia that she was staring into a face—expressionless, blank, more like a mask than anything human, and yet more hideous than anything she’d ever imagined.

  The One Beneath.

  Nadia wanted to close her eyes. She didn’t. Staring directly into that terrible face, she reached inward, drawing upon her mother’s hate—pure hatred untouched by even the slightest suggestion of love. It blazed like a furnace.

  That hate spiraled within her, taking a form that could only have existed here in the demonic realm.

  The ultimate weapon is forged from hate. The ultimate weapon.

  “Now,” Nadia said, pushing Verlaine away. “Now!”

  16

  NOT YET, NOT YET, I WANT TO FIND ASA, BUT I DON’T want to be alone in hell, and this is definitely hell, not yet—

  “Now!” Nadia shouted, and Verlaine let go.

  It felt less like being pushed away by Nadia, more like being yanked back from her in a dozen directions at once. Verlaine tumbled head over heels, sideways, and for a moment she thought the forces might pull her apart until she was only so much sinew and bone.

  She stayed in one piece, or she was too dizzy to even tell she’d been ripped apart. Verlaine flung her arms out in an attempt to steady herself. There was nothing for her to brace herself against, no way for her to know up from down; Nadia was invisible to her, lost in the twisting chaos of this realm. And yet, when she opened her arms, Verlaine knew somehow she was more balanced than she’d been before.

  It’s really not because of anything I did physically, she realized. It’s because I’m doing something, instead of letting this place toss me around.

  I have power here if I act.

  The surge of hope she felt was visible—a kind of white electricity burning along her skin, and it was the only light Verlaine needed. She drew in a breath (Oh, hey, hell has air), let herself want and hope with all her strength, and screamed out her love’s true name.

  “ASAEL!”

  The waters surged higher around Elizabeth, forming a whirlpool with her at its vortex. From all around the room, the few items remaining were drawn into the currents—a china vase, the golden rope tassel of a curtain, even an oil painting in a gilded frame.

  Mateo Perez hung on to the crown molding around the archway between this room and the foyer. His body was now suspended in the water, on the verge of being torn away from his handhold. Then the currents would bring him to her, and she would . . .

  How best to kill him? Angry as she was, Elizabeth saw no need for spite. Only for speed.

  Even now, Nadia Caldani had descended to the depths of hell, armed with hatred so pure that she could destroy the bridge between the worlds. Elizabeth had to protect the One Beneath’s path while the worlds were merging. Once the earthly and demonic realms were one, all Nadia’s weapons would be useless. This moment was the last moment of danger the One Beneath would ever know. She would defend Him. But first she had to follow Nadia—and she couldn’t, so long as she was tethered to Mateo Perez.

  Once Mateo died, he would become a demon. Her slave.

  Maybe she would bring him into hell with her, make him watch Nadia die.

  Elizabeth raised her hands, quickening the current. Mateo’s hands were torn free, and she smiled in satisfaction as he floated toward her.

  But he grabbed her hair and shoved her underwater.

  She clutched him down with her, and for a long moment they struggled together, each trying to hold the other under. The powerful currents tossed them both back and forth; when they popped to the surface, Elizabeth couldn’t stop Mateo from sucking in a breath, because she was as desperate for air as he was.

  There were spells to help her breathe underwater, but she had no time to cast them. No strength or focus leftover from d
efending herself against Mateo—this would not be settled by magic, but through brute force.

  Mateo coughed water from his lungs. The smile on his face was terrible. “Together just like we were when we were kids, huh?”

  Elizabeth clutched the collar of his shirt; he grabbed her shoulders so hard that his fingers felt like they could press through her flesh. She realized he would drown with her before he would let her go.

  That meant he was willing to die. Good. The advantage was hers.

  “Friends to the end,” he said, and dragged them both back down.

  “ASAEL!”

  The word reverberated through the entire dimension around Verlaine; she could feel it as surely as she could feel heat on her skin. A demon’s true name had power, Nadia had said—but only to the servants of hell. Within hell, where everyone was a servant, the word alone could start something like an earthquake.

  Verlaine strained for an answer, hoping to see Asa appear in front of her. Or to hear his voice calling her name. Nothing. She was more alone in this creepy, warped void than before, and she thought, That’s it. I’m lost.

  Then she felt the faintest, softest brush against her palm.

  Another, against her belly.

  Another, in the curve of her neck.

  Was someone touching her? The sensation was more like a silk scarf drifting next to her skin—ethereal and lovely. Here, amid all this ugliness, the softness was as welcome as it was strange.

  Verlaine’s eyes widened as she felt the next brush along her arm, and for the first time saw the shadow. Even in this twisting darkness, she could tell the shadow was different—black on black, but a kind of smoke that turned and swirled and sought—sought her.

  “Asael,” she whispered. Although she wanted to call him Asa, the name she thought of as his, she remembered what Nadia had said. Here, nothing but Asa’s real name could be spoken.