by Dy Loveday
Her semitransparent copy.
“They weren’t dancing for me. It was you all the time … it’s always been you.” Her father’s voice held sorrow. The demon lord pitied her.
“No,” she screamed. The fear and horror she’d been running from her whole life found her. “I’m not the one.”
“We are one.”
“No.” Wind shrieked in the echo of her voice.
“I’ll help you control maleficium. Bound by blood and history. We are one.”
Chapter 17
Resolutions
“Warlocks are careful. They do not communicate with evil or hesitate when confronted with corruption. The safety of the realm is their first priority. Even family must come second.”
—Corpus Megistus, Volume VII, Enim Empire.
Darkness retreated as Maya woke to a raging headache and dry throat. Heavy limbs told she’d been out for a while. Images of Molokh and a white city, sacked by soldiers, destroyed by fire flashed across her mind. The taste of knowledge was bitter and sour. The dark shapes she’d been drawing her whole life were the children she’d killed. Since arriving in Balkaith and finding the sky, she saw the scenes in glorious color. Tiny faces twisted in pain. Guilt was too small an emotion to hold what she felt inside. Regret even carried a smell. Patchouli. And every breath hurt so bad she could hardly bear it. The djinni was her double and it had been sending her messages her whole life. The visions were there to remind her of what she’d done. So she’d never forget.
Resh’s measured rasp and Alexandr’s lighter timbre sounded several feet away, while someone, probably Esmonda, waded out of the lake with a rhythmic slosh of water. Maya needed information and Resh would have it. That same ticking clock she’d seen in the Vault tapped incessantly in her head. Everything had become complicated—she worried one false move would end with her destroying everything she cared about.
She had a lust for power and magic was the lure.
If only she could shove Molokh into the lowest subdimension of the Abyss. But another part of her wanted to be accepted for who she was, dark energy and all.
No. No. No. That was Molokh’s plan; she just knew it. He played to her vulnerabilities. She didn’t want to be accepted by a demon and never would. She’d control her desires—she had to.
Something landed with a thud and she flinched, opening her eyes before she could stop herself. Her backpack lay in front of her face.
She looked up long, long legs encased in tight pants, belted low with a metal clasp, to an abdomen corded with muscle, even through the clingy shirt. Her eyes lowered to slits. She’d never felt so uncertain about anything in her life. Not even when she was dirt poor and wondered where her next spell would come from.
Resh hunkered down in an unhurried movement. “You’re awake and survived the change, all in one piece, thankfully. You look just the same. Healthier, if possible.” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “You gave us quite a scare.” Humor tinged his voice, but he was pale and drawn.
She didn’t want the words of confidence. The death of all those people should show somewhere. What kind of monster walked away from murder without a sign, a mark of some sort? Pathetic tears flooded her eyes, and she blinked them away. In a past life she’d unleashed demons on the physical realms. She’d done it again. Even if she managed to outwit Molokh, she still couldn’t turn back the clock and make amends for the past. All those grieving parents were dead now, just particles of dust blowing in an empty desert.
“I wasn’t concerned about my looks.” Her voice was soft, and she cleared her throat. That wasn’t completely true. For a while there she’d wondered if she’d end up a monstrous snake with a dog’s head.
“I thought you were concerned.”
“About what I would do.” There were worse things than monsters, such as ugliness hidden inside, disguised by pale skin, a fresh face, and youth.
“Well, you didn’t eat anyone, although your body heated like hot coals, and you vanished for a good while.” His hard face was strained, but beneath the smile lay understanding, compassion, and a glint of determination she didn’t want to acknowledge.
“How did Esmonda react?” she asked, not really caring, but wanting to put off the chat she knew was coming.
“I think she was disappointed you survived.” His mouth lifted in a grim smile. “Here.” He held out a piece of fruit. “Open up.”
She opened her mouth and he fed her a round purple fruit that tasted sweet, a little like banana. He watched her mouth beneath lowered lids. A shiver ran over her skin as she chewed and avoided his gaze.
Sitting up, she realized someone must have taken off her coat and jeans. The same pale-skinned body lay beneath the swag. The short-sleeved T-shirt had twisted, and she contorted to straighten it. Her nipples stuck out like thumbs and she cringed. Nothing fit. How did top-heavy women cope in this world? She’d love to draw Esmonda’s face if she broached the subject.
“Where are the others?” she asked, to fill the silence that stretched between them. She traced a forefinger over her tattoos, darker now, the same shade of ink as the bleak ravens that crawled over Resh’s tanned biceps.
“Checking the mantle of protection. Now we’re close to the exit, we can conjure a magnetic field to hold off the beasts. Once you’re rested, we’ll make our way to the Tyre Basin. From there we will teleport to Tau, reach the swamp before your birthday.”
“I thought releasing energy would alert the Khereb?”
He gave her a wry look. “They must know where we are. Your alteration created such a burst of energy that even Balkaith would have felt it. Why the Khereb haven’t arrived is anyone’s guess, but you needed time to recover, so we set the wards. We’ll leave for Tau tonight, if you’re ready.”
She nodded. He handed her some bread and cheese, and she took it, suddenly hungry.
“Do you see what you did?”
She looked up questioning, and he pointed to a nearby wall. A picture had been drawn in muted pastel colors of a dark-haired woman dangling over a pond.
She frowned. “I don’t remember doing that.” She must have drawn it in her sleep. She shuddered. How creepy. “It’s Jane.”
He looked at the wall for a moment longer. “She’s in the Abyss.”
“I guess I’ve drawn it that way.” Who knew what her subconscious was doing when it pulled her out of bed. At least it wasn’t animating. Not yet anyway. “Maybe we should get rid of it?”
He stared at the wall, face unreadable except for a small nerve twitching in his temple. After a moment he walked to the drawing and rubbed it out with the back of his arm.
What to say? Filling her mouth with bread gave her an excuse to say nothing, but the silence grew. She wanted to tell him she was sorry that she’d dragged him into this; that she didn’t know trouble followed her to Balkaith. Wanted to invite him into the bedroll, but knew that the others would return, and wasn’t sure if she could cope with his rejection anyway. The silence grew longer and longer.
“Jane’s not dead,” he said.
“What?”
“She’s not dead. She’s with Molokh in the Abyss.” His voice was uncompromising. “Along with your journal.”
She flinched and choked on a crumb, coughing and gasping for air. His big hand patted her gently on the back until she recovered her breath.
“I don’t understand?”
“I saw both in the Abyss.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” she retorted as realization struck.
“I thought you’d struggle with the knowledge, and I was right. Look at you now, riddled with guilt and self-pity.”
She reared back. Fury rose in her so fast she wondered it didn’t fly out the top of her head and zap him dead. “You held back. Again. After all we’ve been through, you decide to freaking conceal this from me.” She had two goals right now. Find out as much as possible about her past so she could stay alive, and to keep Molokh from frying her fri
ends. Achieving either would take a miracle. Especially if Resh went caveman on her, tried to protect her when what she needed most was information.
His mouth turned down. “I offered you a reprieve. What benefit was there in you knowing sooner? We still had to take this journey. Did you think our decisions would have been different, that you’d go back and find Jane and the journal? How easy would that be?” He glowered at her as if he’d already explained it to her, over and over, and she was just too stupid to understand.
“Effing hell. Stop treating me like I’m useless. Yes, you’re bigger than me, but guess what; I’m not a child. In a few days, God only knows what I’ll become. Maybe history will repeat itself. If I betray my friends, I’d like to think I did it because of my own limitations. Not because of some missing detail you decided to keep from me. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘forewarned is forearmed’?”
“I have more faith in you than that. More faith than you have in yourself.” He stood, long body stretched above her, immediately putting her at a disadvantage. She shoved aside the bedding and rose unsteadily, food tumbling to the floor.
“You promised you wouldn’t conceal anything from me. Why in the hell would you keep Canaan from me?”
His eyes flashed silver and widened. She’d surprised him.
“That’s right. I know about Mesopotamia,” she said. “The place where the mighty warlocks disappeared, divided by politics and faith. You took something very powerful with you, three thousand years ago. No wonder the magi are still pissed. You took their grimoire, their heritage, and escaped the leveling of the city. Oh, and thanks for leaving them with us. They nearly wiped the planet of humans during the Mage Wars.”
“Don’t waste time in sympathy with the magi. Magic lacks sentimentality. Their support for Molokh came back to bite them and I won’t apologize that my ancestors were unequivocal in their dealings with the magi, or Lord Molokh for that matter. I promised to keep you safe, which is more important than Earth’s troubled past, or any part you played in it. This is a new life. You have new decisions and new paths to take. It’s your choice to make. The magi will help us send the Khereb back to the Abyss. I have faith.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? I appreciate you watching out for me. But you can’t protect me from my father or from myself. I need to know what’s going on so I don’t get blindsided.”
He narrowed his eyes and his scowl deepened. “Well, maybe you don’t always know what’s good for you.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think is good for me. Who says you get to decide? I’m in control of my own—”
“Yes. You have that right.” He glowered at her, dragged his hand through his black hair, tugging it with his fist. “This is about control. You being in charge. Knowing everything up front, never working for it, or waiting until you’re ready to hear it. Impatient to the core. Selfish. And by the by, I’m sick of your swearing.”
“I get it. You know what’s best. You make the decisions and ‘oh by the way, forget the past and become an aristocrat while you’re at it’.” The muscles in her face were tight, didn’t want to work properly.
“You’re so wrangled in self-pity. I know you’ve had a difficult time. But there are others who have suffered, and don’t feel so sorry for themselves. Don’t let Molokh win this battle for your soul.”
He might as well have kicked her in the stomach and he must have realized he’d gone too far, because his voice softened.
“I don’t want to argue. Not now. We have little time to ourselves. Let’s not waste it.” He half turned, pulled his black shirt over his head, and tossed it to the ground. There was a long pause. “I’m going for a swim.”
How did they get to this point? She couldn’t care less about the Khereb right now, or past politics. This was about him letting her grow, trusting her. “I’ve been living alone, making my own decisions since I was fifteen.” But she took his outreached hand, glided her fingers between his. “I’m not selfish.” Maybe he was right; she was a bit of a control freak. “This is my problem and no one can help me. I can’t even help myself. If I turn bad, you have to stop me from hurting people. We have to work together on this, so no more secrets. Show me some trust.”
He stared down at her, then heaved a sigh. “I apologize.”
She staggered back, one hand on her heart in pretend shock, and his eyes glinted.
“Trust is something I struggle with, but I’ll make an effort to share my thoughts. For a start, believe me when I say you won’t become evil—you’ve too much love of life for that. I’m convinced of it.” He tugged her hand and she followed him, the sand soft beneath her bare toes. The cavern was surprisingly warm; the pool had to be fed by a hot spring. Steam rose from the surface in soft swirls of gray-green. Phosphorous sparkled in the mist, reflected against the glittering roof.
“He wants me in exchange for Jane, doesn’t he?” She couldn’t help herself.
She saw the answer about Jane in his eyes. “We have to get her out of there.”
He nodded. “If we can.”
“How will we do it?”
“I’m not sure.” He must have seen the frown on her face because he added, “You said you wanted the truth.” He raised his brows.
What an ass. He looped her arm through his and led her around a pile of rock, a leather bag swinging in his other hand.
“I saw Molokh, right at the end. He talked to me, in my head.”
He stopped walking and stared down at her.
“He said ‘we are one.’ What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. But you are your own person,” he said.
“The House of Anu are dealing with Molokh. It’s how he’s getting souls, becoming stronger. We have to stop him and retrieve the journal.” She didn’t say it, but she could see he heard her intentions beneath the words. They were going to get Jane back.
He helped her across a small creek bed filled with river stones that fed the lake. Long-stemmed plants with massive green heads swayed on the bank. The water was a cool relief on her toes. She was acutely aware that he watched her reactions. He often did that. Stared and said nothing, while she wondered what he was thinking.
“We’ll evoke the Circle of Eight and retrieve her. From the Abyss.” Her tone was implacable.
He nodded slowly. “We shall try. Unless Molokh has transmogrified her into a Khereb.”
It didn’t matter what Jane was. She’d find her friend and bring her home. She felt sick to her stomach and changed the subject. “Is that what Molokh’s doing? Back on Earth, Jhara was changing into something foul.”
He shrugged. “If Jhara made a choice to join with Molokh he’s now Khereb. No doubt he hoped to gain from it.”
It was all about power. Since the Mage Wars, people lived in the present, rarely thought about the future, conserving their energy for survival. The tripartite government conserved power, pretended the races were equal. It was such a foolish thing to do. Now that she thought about it, Trent had changed, had become less human and more walking corpse every day. The sycophant must have united with Jhara in some warped ritual to increase his power.
“Is that what is happening to you?” she asked.
He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve changed as well.”
“I doubt I’ve become Khereb. Although I do hunger for blood.” As a confession, it came across matter-of-fact and bland.
“What do you mean? A vampire?” She had to force the high note out of her voice.
He laughed. “There’re no such thing as vampires.”
She must have looked offended because he tried to hide his amusement. “I don’t drink from live beasts, never fear. Raw meat will suffice.”
Ugh. Was that supposed to make her feel better? She was starting to feel ashamed of herself—so involved in her own needs that she’d never asked what Molokh had done to him. They never seemed to have time or privacy to discuss things, but it was no excuse.
“Did you bargain with Molokh?” she asked in a small voice. That wiped the smile off his face.
“No.”
“How bad did he hurt you? Your voice and eyes are … different.”
“I’m fine, Maya. Truly. I seem to have faster reactions, but otherwise, I’m unchanged.”
She sighed. “What’s to become of us, Resh? We’re no longer the people we once were. We’ve made mistakes. What if we keep making them?”
She felt rather than heard his soft exhalation of air.
“Everyone makes errors, Maya. We need to learn from them. I care little for the past or anything you might have done, and hope you feel the same about me. This life offers a new challenge and new possibilities. We will find a mage and evoke the high ritual—rid this realm of the Khereb. I shall deal with Besmelo. We will share a life together, if that is what you want.”
Damn, he had to go romantic right now. Said in that low, raspy voice it took all the zing out of her resentment. She had to find a way of managing this rock of a warlock otherwise life together would be hell.
They walked around lumpy stalagmites and calcified water dripping from the lime-washed ceiling. The white arches highlighted the ochre walls like antique picture frames.
Resh helped her over a large slippery boulder and around a corner strewn with smooth flat stones. Swirls of steam floated above the water, tiny lights captured within. She caught his scent and recognized the familiar incense with a tang of something else. Ozone? Or was it the lake?
“Is the water okay to swim in? It looks weird.” The water was clear even if it was pale green. When the steam shifted, she saw a few flat pebbles and white sand beneath the surface.
He shook his head and smiled down at her. “I forget that you know so little of the Empire. It’s a mineral in the water. The lake is fed by subterranean springs. Some believe the lake is dangerous, will reduce a warlock’s life span. It’s quite invigorating, although most don’t bother traveling the distance through dark tunnels to get here.”