Illusion

by Dy Loveday

  Something thudded near her head. Maya lowered her forearm.

  A slice of sun cut through a cloud and fell across one of the warlocks. He thumped a silver staff on the ground. It emitted a red spark that rumbled with a hollow, pressurized roar. The walls shivered, releasing a cloud of subterranean dust. The shapes wobbled. He thumped again and the sun came out from behind a cloud, exposing three warlocks standing in a semicircle around her head.

  The vision pulled back, slinking out of the cavern, leaving dot clusters embedded in the striated limestone surface.

  The bright daylight captured the body and face of someone who might have been carved on a Greco-Roman coin.

  He looked down at her as if he’d found something interesting on the bottom of his shoe.

  “Maya McAdam, we expected you to arrive in the Holy District.” He leaned his weight forward on the silver staff. Gaai hopped near his feet.

  She sat up, twisting to face the tall warlocks. Blood pooled into her mouth from a bite on the inside of her cheek, and the back of her head felt like someone had hit her with a baseball bat. From his matter-of-fact tone it seemed he hadn’t seen anything. She sneaked a peek at the rock shelf to see if the shadows were still there, and her body trembled in relief. The sun beat down on the ledge, revealing a sky dotted by a few high clouds and a bright landscape.

  She scrambled to her feet and bit back a groan, bracing herself against the limestone wall with one sticky palm.

  “The ritual tossed me out down there. Thanks for finding me.” To her relief her voice sounded normal. She didn’t bother acknowledging her name, suddenly distracted by an awful prickling on her chest. Her brow creased in a frown as her nipples burned. Then her breasts swelled, tripling in size, jutting out like two extra large hillocks covered in gray cotton. Damn that fucking Jhara and his unpredictable spells.

  The blond shifted his weight.

  She was standing in the middle of a tunnel that disappeared into darkness in both directions.

  “Where is Resheph?” one of the cloaked men asked. His hands were clasped behind his back. “We expected you in the Vault.” Loose black cloth draped him from head to toe. A silver circlet sat atop his hood, embellished with blue stones.

  “She couldn’t produce a short range transfer,” said Gaai. “Strange for a witch who shifts reality between dimensions.”

  She stared at the bird, her head throbbing, and smiled through gritted teeth.

  “I apologize for any insult, but it wasn’t intended,” she said, clasping her hands so she couldn’t fidget. With their crossed arms and blank faces, the warlocks broadcast the kind of ascetic arrogance that brought out the worst in her. “The bird’s right. Resh told me my pictures are volatile, and to avoid drawing.”

  “I’m Alexandr. This is Anchal and Lucient, Tribune adepts,” the blond said, pointing at the other two. “You wear Resheph’s scent.” Blunt chopped blond hair fell around smooth features, obscuring part of his face. Shadow fell on the other half, giving him the look of a two-faced God. Alexandr reminded her of someone. Her brow scrunched up in thought. Janus. She shuddered.

  These warlocks weren’t throwing out a red carpet or even a welcome mat. Rubbing her palms on her pants, she struggled to find words to explain. She dug deep for a few social pleasantries and came up with nothing.

  The warlock Lucient uttered an incantation. A luminescent black sphere appeared between his hands. He drew a deep breath and tossed it at the gap in the wall. The globe hung in the open doorway, surrounded by the blue sky. Its mass expanded, solidifying into a black bulk of stone that blocked the entrance to the tunnel. Lines of power flared, crackling over the top of the stone as the wall hissed, sealing shut. Lucient swept his hand to indicate she should start walking.

  At least there was a wall between her and the vision. Her small smile was met by wooden expressions and complete silence.

  Maya scanned the dim light ahead. The tunnel walls curved, disappearing into darkness. The tunnel, lacking any real warmth, reflected the aura of her rescuers. The wall sconces provided patches of light to chase away the darkness. Against the wall a blue flame in a wire cage cast a spectral glow on the dark interior. She walked up wide steps winding around the inside of the mountain.

  “Resheph hasn’t arrived to explain your presence,” Anchal said.

  Her muscles tightened and she stumbled, nearly falling over a step.

  “I realize my arrival is unexpected, and I’ll happily answer your questions.” Thank God she’d landed on that sentence. Her stomach felt hollow, as if she’d been punched.

  “It’s odd he didn’t return with her.” Anchal said. Tall and thin faced, he had a clipped beard, eloquent eyes, and a navy blue geometric design tattooed down the bridge of his nose.

  Did they expect her to have a sign on her back explaining why she was there? I dumped him in the darkness because he is a lying ass nearly slipped off her tongue, but she held it back.

  “He’s in the Abyss. He was infected by poison and we separated in the dark. I arrived alone.” Back on Earth, he’d dogged her footsteps, an irritating mountain of a warlock with the personality of a rock, and she’d do anything to have him beside her right now.

  The three men looked at one another over her head, and then back down at her as if she were a magnetic pole.

  “Separated, you say.” Alexandr frowned. “We saw you standing together at the interdimensional threshold. What poison could have troubled an alchemist?”

  Maya mentally winced. Now she had to explain to a coven of warlocks that she’d dumped their prize warrior. She fumbled for a moment, trying to think of a good explanation, barely admitting to herself that she’d truly screwed up. By now he should have turned up, surely?

  “Khereb poison. We lost the journal and ran out of time. I guess I didn’t respond well to sharing minds. I … fought the joining.” It sounded worse out loud and she flushed.

  “Khereb poison?” The warlocks stopped and stared, wide-eyed. They spoke in a quick tone, in their own language.

  Alexandr stared down at her, rubbing his neck. “Khereb, you say?”

  “We came across three of them. A bull, a jackel, and vulture. With mixed body parts. They tore up my apartment, broke through the wards. We left Earth under attack.”

  Anchal shook his head, white-faced. His eyes met Lucient’s.

  “How in the gods did you expect Resheph to convey himself back?” Alexandr asked.

  “I assumed he’d find his own way. I’m not familiar with crossing realms.” She knew she was a mess, but she could hardly be expected to know the consequences of interplanetary travel if Resh didn’t feel the need to warn her up front.

  “Ignorance is hardly an excuse. Why would you even consider such a thing?” Alexandr glared at Maya.

  “I didn’t realize, dammit. I know nothing of this.” She spread her hands wide. But she did feel guilty, made guiltier by their disbelief. Damn her impulsive nature, maybe he was in deep shit because of her. The thought was unnerving and she cleared her throat.

  “Crossing the Tesseract is outlawed,” said Anchal, his eyebrows drawn. “We knew the situation was dire when we supported Resheph’s ritual. Had no idea…” He swallowed hard. “The Abyss is antimatter. The ritual forms a matrix, sending the etheric and physical body in energy waves across the realms. It’s like woven cloth. Two particles of the same type can’t exist simultaneously without the other. The body’s arrival completes the process.”

  She stared at him. Oh dear.

  “If the body doesn’t manifest in the same place as the etheric force, it disintegrates,” Lucient said. “It’s crucial we retrieve his astral body. We have one sun cycle at the most.” His low tone dwindled at the end.

  “The venerable elemental warlock means that Resheph is lost to us,” said Alexandr in a disgusted tone.

  “He’s not lost, yet,” Anchal protested.

  “I’ll find Clarice. If she can locate his body, we could increase his synapse firing
rate, create a resonant wormhole and summon him home,” said Alexandr, staring ahead with a determined expression on his face.

  “You’re insane … we’ll never get enough amplitude to cover the distance,” Lucient muttered, a white line rimming his mouth.

  “What about dielectric dispersion?” Anchal said, ignoring Lucient.

  “And blow up the entire city?” Lucient’s tone was hard. “He’s lost to us. Right now he’s extending beyond layers of reality into vastness.”

  “We can’t leave him there. Is that what you’re suggesting? What about the custodians of the eternal doorways?” Alexandr demanded.

  “Unheard of. Calling on the pantheon is a last resort. Remember what happened last time?” Lucient bellowed. He was met by dead silence.

  Maya felt sick. “Can I do anything to help?” They turned to face her, surprise in their eyes as if they’d forgotten she existed. She was almost sorry she’d reminded them.

  “We’ll find him. The Tribune will meet with you later,” said Lucient, looking at Alexandr with a tight expression on his face. They’d come to a fork in the tunnel. He gestured to the right with an open hand.

  “I’d like to help. If he’s lost because of something I did, I’d like to make it right.” She looked at Lucient, who seemed slightly less disturbed than the other two. Given half a chance, Alexandr might carve her up and feed her to a flesh-eating plant.

  “The best of us make mistakes,” said Lucient, casting a side look at Alexandr.

  “I wouldn’t know. I thought I was human,” she said. If she had magic, she wouldn’t have sat at the top of a bloody cliff for an hour or more, or popped an inferior spell to keep the visions away.

  Alexandr barked out a harsh laugh. “Human!” he said in disgust, staring at the other two. “Of course. Why should we expect anything else? It was a mad scheme, from the beginning. I don’t know why I let you convince me to act on your behalf. Look where it’s led us.” He turned on his heel and strode off into the darkness.

  * * * *

  “Resheph-wa-Khasis. Aren’t you happy to meet me? Is my countenance not pleasing?”

  Molokh lounged on one arm, floating over a black pool of water, naked except for red glyphs glowing on his skin. “The terrible splendor of Mithra is remarkable, don’t you think?”

  Jane floated next to him, her eyes closed as if asleep. A silver chain looped around her neck, falling to the water, shackling her to her own reflection. Wet black hair clung to her head, shifting in a nonexistent breeze.

  Molokh confiscated her limp hand and nipped. When he lifted his head, blood lined his mouth and the pads of his fingers were black.

  Her eyes fluttered and half opened.

  Resheph strained to reach her and the scene exploded into billions of particles of Jane. The particles spun, accelerating until they were a cloudy blur of pale limbs and dark hair.

  A heartbeat later they stopped. The hologram mosaics slammed into one another with terrible speed. Jane screamed, an awful gurgle that failed to hide the thump of impact as the pieces connected, forming a single phantasm. The woman lay in a fetal position over the pool.

  Resheph staggered back and raised his palms.

  Molokh’s blue eyes brightened. “She’ll live, for now.” He gave Resheph an arch look and leaned his hip against the metal lip of the pool. It tilted on its side, but the water didn’t run free.

  Instead it reflected numerous images of him, Molokh, and Jane. The reflections moved together and separately, lacking a sequence, agitating his mind. Jane crept up behind Resheph. Molokh lay on top of Jane. Molokh brushed Resheph’s hair.

  He bit back nausea, sickened by the visual load on his senses. Agares stood compressed by his side, holding Resheph’s elbow in a mockery of care, fondling his hair. The scent of rotten garbage caught in Resheph’s throat, making bile rise.

  “My lord, I beg this warrior remain my prize,” said Agares, bending on his knee, bowing to Molokh.

  “Leave us, Agares, you bore me,” Molokh said calmly, flicking his hand in dismissal. A surge of energy hit Resheph, flinging him back. He felt warm blood seep from his nose and drip down his chin. Agares flew back into darkness.

  Molokh beckoned with his finger, dragging Resheph forward.

  “You’re clever for a Balkaithite. I felt you build a bridge through the Abyss. Too bad you didn’t have coitus with Maya McAdam. You’d be a conjoined soul and I’d have her right now,” said Molokh.

  “Let the woman go,” Resheph said.

  “I desire my old throne, Resheph-wa-Khasis. And Maya McAdam. Haven’t you guessed why?”

  The stench of rot made Resheph’s vision waver. His muscles loosened and he stumbled.

  “Now, warrior. Sit. Before you fall.”

  Resheph was forced to the ground and in a blink the demon stood over him.

  “The idiot, Jhara, tried to renege on our deal. I promised him immortality and immortality he shall have, even though he failed to deliver Maya.”

  Resheph rolled his tongue, bringing a small amount of saliva to his dry mouth. “Why?”

  “Warrior, you know she’s mad, takes pleasure in her pain. She always finds me. She’s a devoted disciple of the old rites. Can’t help herself.” Molokh smiled, showing even, white teeth. “Let’s stop the games. I want to go home, you miss your magic, and Agares loves his sodomites. It’s a simple decision, surely?”

  “I’d like to get out of here alive, but I won’t sacrifice Maya to achieve it,” Resheph said. Sweat slithered down his back, slimy and wet, reminding him of Agares’ touch.

  “What do you really want, Resheph, my warrior? I can give you anything.”

  How long would he be able to refuse? To the depths of his soul he wanted out of this terrible realm.

  Molokh leaned over Resheph, his eyes gleaming like polished stones. “You mustn’t squander time thinking you have a choice. I saw you warlocks worm your way out of the ocean, crouch as apes, lose your pathetic city-states. You know I gave you the magical alphabet, watched you fight with your brethren, and leave Earth when the magi burned children in my name. I’ve hated the Canaanites for millennia because your king cursed me, relegated me to a forgotten cult, a lesser god.” Molokh stalked over to Jane and gazed at her fondly, tucking her hair back behind her ear with his left hand. “Give Maya to my Khereb. I’m prepared to let bygones be bygones. I’ll let you go free, return your powers, and focus my efforts on Earth instead of Balkaith. I’m sure your people would agree the terms are fair. You don’t have much time to decide. There are several on Earth willing to sell Balkaith out.” He swiped his hand and Jane fell beneath the surface, oily black water rippling backward, lapping to the center.

  Resheph’s heart raced. His people were innocent, didn’t deserve this demon’s attention.

  “Otherwise I’ll destroy Balkaith and every last warlock in it. The witches can have the remains.” Molokh lifted his hand, revealing Maya’s black journal. “Maya or Balkaith? My five thousand years behind Mithra has come to an end. I want my lieutenant back where she belongs.”

  Molokh lifted a brow. Jane rose from the inky water, gasping for air, eyes wide with panic.

  A glass pipe appeared between finger and thumb and Molokh raised it to his mouth, puffing on a coiling mass of liquid vapor flowing from Jane’s pale lips. He exhaled with a satisfied sigh, and smoke streamed from his parted mouth.

  “Maya knows me and I know her. She tastes like ecstasy.”

  Chapter 11

  Dryads and Companion Demons

  “Dryads commune with the spirit world. They rule the temple under the sun to the east and represent the waters of Creation and Sacred Mysteries of the Afterlife.”

  —Corpus Megistus, Volume VI, Enim Empire

  Lucient escorted Maya to a small room with a white wrought-iron bed and a wooden side table. The room, with its smooth walls and almost overpowering smell of jasmine, was a stark contrast to her apartment. Ushering her inside, he’d told her someone would retur
n for her once she’d rested. He pointed out her belongings sitting on the bed and rushed out the door, his robes fluttering behind him. Shortly after, a dark child wearing a scarf brought in clothes and left them on the bed. She left without glancing once in Maya’s direction.

  Gaai showed her the pulley system that helped adjust the water temperature in the adjoining bathroom. Maya lay waist deep in the square onyx tub, letting cool water spill over her hair and down her back from a tilted silver urn. When she returned to the bedroom, the raven was sitting on a large armoire, fluffing his feathers and preening.

  “Well, you look less bloody, but just as miserable,” said Gaai.

  Maya bit her bottom lip and stalked to the window.

  “I stuffed up. Royally.” She leaned her stomach against the deep window ledge and stared at the ocean. A floor to ceiling window showcased the dark blue ocean and lighter sky, but all she could see was Resh’s disquiet when he’d wakened her from her nightmare.

  “He lied and I hated him for making me feel like a fool.” Despite the subterfuge, she wished he was here, especially now that she had to face a group of angry warlocks and field questions she didn’t have the answers to.

  She scuffed the toe of her slippers on the red stones embedded in the floor.

  Ambassador, my ass.

  Someone had left formal clothes out for her, but she wasn’t sure if she wore them correctly. The tightly fitted gown clung to her body, showing too much cleavage.

  “Ahh yes, well, privileged knowledge is usually unwelcome.” The bird cocked its head to the side. “Resheph has a fine soul. He’ll forgive you. Eventually. Although he never forgave his sister, so perhaps…” He blinked; gazing above her head at the sky, as if it held answers only he could see. “If the Tribune won’t bring him back, Pia will escort his soul to the afterlife.”

  She gave a grunt. “Tell me honestly. What are his chances?”

  “We lost an Enim warrior to the Abyss millennia ago. The warlocks summoned his soul, breaking the covenant, and the guardian, Besmelo, sent the Empire eighty years of famine for the pleasure.”