Rival Demons

by Sarra Cannon

  The scream that tore from Mary Anne's lips ripped through me like a chainsaw. I bolted from my quiet spot in the corner and threw myself at the shaman. Before I could reach her and stop her from hurting my friend, Jackson's arms closed around my middle, one hand slapping across my mouth to keep me from interrupting the ritual. I struggled against him, anger bubbling within me.

  Couldn't he see that this woman was making it worse? She was going to kill her!

  But my tired body lost energy quickly. I slumped against him, my chest heaving with each breath.

  "Shhh," he whispered, his warm breath against my skin breaking my heart further. "She's going to be better, just wait."

  I watched as Mary Anne settled back onto the couch. Her eyes were still closed, but her body writhed against the fur of the couch. The shaman placed both of her hands on Mary Anne's injury, rubbing the orange liquid into the wound.

  The pain on Mary Anne's face tortured me. I could only hope she was too far gone to know what was really happening.

  When it was over, the shaman priestess lifted her hands from Mary Anne's side. I couldn't tell if the wound was better or worse. It was covered in a thick orange paste. The woman stood, wiped her hands on a towel, then placed the empty vial back in her bag.

  She stood and nodded to Lea. "I have sealed the wound," she said. "I am sorry to say that this young one would have died if you had not brought her here when you did."

  I pulled away from Jackson's hold. "She's going to be okay?"

  The shaman woman looked at me, and instead of frowning or looking at me like I was a cockroach, she actually smiled at me. "Yes, my dear, your friend is going to be just fine," she said. "And so will you, in time. Wounds of the heart take much longer to heal."

  I stared at her, surprise rooting me to the spot. My gaze flicked to Jackson, then down to the ground. How did she know? Was it really that obvious?

  Lea walked the woman to the door. "Is there anything special we need to do for her?"

  "Just make sure she leaves the paste on the wound for at least a week," she said. "And under no circumstances can she come in contact with the fur of another tiger for the next several months."

  Lea smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem," she said. "Unless you guys have a lot of tigers down here."

  The shaman smiled. "None that I'm aware of," she said.

  Before she left, the shaman looked at me one more time and smiled. I nodded to her and she nodded back. The look in her blue-again eyes said this woman could see deeper inside of me than even I could see. But what was it that brought on this sad, knowing smile?

  It was a smile that said she knew my fate, my past and future pain. She knew my destiny.

  As she disappeared behind the closing double doors, I felt a powerful urge to run after her and ask her what she saw. What she knew.

  But fear held me to this spot, not wanting to know the truth.

  Not In Front of Him

  Once the shaman left and Mary Anne was sleeping soundly on the comfort of the couch, I decided to explore the rest of the suite. Lea claimed a room in the very back of the apartment. There were two additional bedrooms, each on an opposite side of the living room.

  I peered into the first one. Decorated in pure white linens and furniture, the walls in this room were the same slate blue-gray color as the walls in the rest of the suite. The floors were pure white marble like most of the floors in the Underground seemed to be so far. I sighed in relief as the coolness of the tile soothed my weary feet.

  "How are you feeling?"

  Jackson stood behind me in the doorway, but I didn't turn around.

  "Fine," I said, stiffening. "Did you need something?"

  Okay, so I was giving him a bit of cold-shoulder treatment, but how else was I supposed to get over him and move on? If he kept touching me and whispering in my ear, there would be no end to the torture.

  "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, sadness in his tone.

  I walked around the room, running my hand over the pure white wood of the desk and opening one of the drawers. Pretending his presence had no effect on me.

  "I'm fine, just checking out the rooms," I said. "I wanted to see which one looked more comfortable for Mary Anne."

  "I think they're both exactly the same," he said. "You should each have your own bathroom."

  He stepped into the room and opened a door just beside the bed. Beyond the frame, I could make out a small shower.

  "I guess if they're the same, I'll just take this one, then," I said, staying on the opposite side of the room instead of walking over to inspect the bathroom. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get showered and see if I can find something else to wear."

  "Oh yeah," he said, taking a few quick steps to the bed. He crouched down and pulled a drawer out from under the bed. "Jericho said Andros had someone from the marketplace tailor some clothes for you and Mary Anne. They should be down here."

  He reached in and pulled out a stack of clothing, laying it out on the bed.

  "How do I know if these are mine or Mary Anne's?" I held one of the shirts up and it looked too big for either of us.

  "Magic," he said, pretending to examine the shirt. His hand brushed mine, and I stepped away, letting the shirt fall to the bed. "They should be made so that once you put them on, they form themselves to your body in a perfect fit."

  I sat down on the heavenly soft comforter to get a closer look at the clothes, and sunk in deeper than I imagined I would. It was like sitting on top of a cloud. I couldn't help but smile, despite the tension in the room. I wanted to lay back in it and disappear inside of it for the next twelve hours.

  But when I caught Jackson's eye and saw him smiling back at me, I tensed. Wasn't this exactly the kind of thing we weren't allowed to do? If the demons here didn't approve of me, they surely wouldn't find it appropriate for him to be standing here with me in my private bedroom. Our eyes locked, but I looked away, not wanting to start a conversation that would only lead to tears. I wanted to be strong, not some weepy little girl who couldn't face reality.

  "Thanks," I said. I made a point to look at the open door behind him. "I think I'm all set here then."

  Jackson stood and nodded. "Sure," he said, sadness darkening his eyes. "If you need anything I'll be in the apartment down the hall marked with a clear stone. It's on the left side of the hallway."

  I nodded and reluctantly stood up from the comfort of the bed. I walked him to the door and put my hand on it so that he knew I intended to close him out as soon as he cleared the doorway.

  "I might be in some meetings for the next few days, so I'm not sure how much I'll be able to come around," he said, lingering just inside the room. "I'll come by to check on Mary Anne when I can, and I'll make sure Jericho keeps the kitchen stocked for you."

  I lifted my chin. "I can take care of myself," I said. "And Mary Anne. You don't have to worry about babysitting us."

  Jackson cleared his throat. "I know you can," he said. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable since you aren't allowed to leave the suite."

  I nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. We were stuck here in this suite indefinitely while he and Lea talked to the council. I suddenly felt very alone and very trapped. I felt the sting of tears, but refused to let them show. Not in front of him.

  "Okay, well, have fun with your meetings," I said, my tone short and cutting. I closed the door, slowly pushing him out of my space.

  "Harper," he said, pleading.

  I didn't let him finish whatever it was he wanted to say. I simply closed the door and leaned against it, waiting for the sound of his boots against the tile before I let the tears begin to fall.

  Never Forget

  I stepped into the small shower in my private bathroom. The warm water felt like heaven as I washed about a pound of dirt off of my body. I chose a fruity-smelling shampoo and lathered up my greasy, dirty hair, laughing as the water at my feet ran brown. I was sudd
enly grateful I hadn't come across any mirrors in the week since we'd first gotten to the shadow world.

  With every speck of dirt that slid off my body, I thought of the days I'd lived since that fateful day at Shadowford. Had it really only been a few days? Why did I feel so different?

  Maybe it was because I'd been reborn. Given a second chance at life. Or was it third or fourth at this point? Either way, I wasn't going to let this one go to waste. I had never been so sure of my own death as I had been in the ritual room that day. I had never felt so helpless.

  Hopeless.

  And I never wanted to feel that way again.

  As I scrubbed, my laughter turned to anger. No one had any right to have that much power over me, much less thousands of other witches. The Order of Shadows recruited us with smiles and promises of unlimited power, fun spells, and timeless beauty. Then, when it was too late, they revealed their true methods, the slavery of demons. When it was time to make our choice, the choice itself was taken away.

  I thought of Brooke's initiation ceremony. The way they dragged her into the room, her screams of protest echoing through the woods, was torture. She didn't want to be one of them. She didn't want to change her goals and dreams for the Order.

  And yet, as soon as it was done, she was different. She'd been brainwashed somehow to believe that the Order's wishes were now her own. It wouldn't be long before they did the same thing to Lark and to Allison and to every other girl in every other demon gate town.

  What gave them the right to steal our lives and our power? What gave them the right to steal our choices?

  I had escaped, but not every girl had that chance.

  If it were up to Jackson, I would stay here, hiding out from the Order of Shadows for the rest of my life. I knew he only wanted me to be safe. But I couldn't stay. Not forever. I would live here just long enough to get my strength back, and then I would return to Peachville. Somehow, I would have my revenge and put a stop to their ways.

  Of course, it would be easier with Jackson and the others fighting by my side, but even if I had to fight alone, I would do it.

  I turned off the hot water and wrapped myself in a soft towel that smelled of fresh flowers. I walked into my new room with its fancy furniture and unbelievably comfortable bed. I was lucky to be here, I knew. But that didn't mean I belonged here.

  Not by a long shot.

  Proof of this lay on the floor at my feet. I leaned down and scooped the dirty ritual dress off the tile. As I held it in my hands, I made a promise to myself. I would never be that helpless again. I gripped the tattered garment tighter in my fist.

  I was going to learn to be powerful. Somehow, I was going to find a way to free Aerden and myself. And if I survived long enough, I would close the Peachville gate and make sure that the Order never enslaved another demon or witch in the name of my ancestors.

  With passion and determination burning in my chest, I ripped a strip of bloodied cloth from the hem of the white dress and wrapped it around my wrist like a ribbon. Then and there, I vowed to wear it until I either died or won. It would serve as a constant reminder of my new purpose. My new destiny.

  I will never forget.

  Twinge of Pain

  Despite my renewed passion, there wasn't much I could do to fight back while I was trapped here in this apartment. Jackson had made it pretty clear that Mary Anne and I needed to stay in the suite. He had someone come by each day to stock our kitchen with exotic fruits and vegetables. There was also some kind beef jerky stuff for us to chew on, but we were definitely not eating anything gourmet. Personally, I wondered how they were able to get fresh fruits and such way down here. Did they have a garden somewhere?

  These were the kinds of things I spent my days thinking about since there was absolutely nothing to do down here. We didn't have any magazines or TV or books. Mary Anne spent a lot of time in her room sleeping, but she was slowly getting her color back and starting to act more like herself. Still, I spent a lot of time alone.

  And alone time is not exactly something I needed. I'd gotten enough of that during my prison time at Shadowford. Of course, being shacked up in an opulent suite of rooms with my own shower and bed was much more comfortable, so I knew I shouldn't complain.

  Over the course of the first week we spent in the Underground, I barely saw Jackson at all. He came by a couple of times to briefly check on Mary Anne, but he never stopped to really talk to me. Our eyes would meet and I knew there was a lot left unsaid between us, but neither of us said what we were really feeling. I missed him like crazy. I just didn't want him to know that.

  "I'm getting cabin fever," I said to Mary Anne on our eighth day of quarantine. "I don't think I can take this much longer."

  We'd been sitting together on the fur couch playing a game of twenty questions. After six games, I'd had enough.

  "I know what you mean," she said. "This place is nice and all, but it's starting to feel a bit like prison."

  I nodded, picking at a hangnail on my index finger. "So I guess the question is what are we going to do about it?"

  Mary Anne shrugged. "I guess we should talk to Lea or Jackson next time they come by," she said. "See if they have any ideas."

  I sighed and sat up. "And how long before they come back?" I asked. "We haven't seen Jackson in days, and Lea only comes home crazy late at night. We're lucky to see her at all most days."

  "I know," she said. "But what choice do we have?"

  I looked toward the counter where Jericho's red stone sat against the white tile. "What if we contacted Jericho?" I asked, standing to retrieve the stone. "How do you think this thing works anyway?"

  She shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea," she said. "He left that stone for Lea, not for us."

  I sighed again and put the stone back down on the counter. "I'm going to go insane."

  Then, as if he'd been listening to us, Jackson walked through the door of the suite.

  My stomach fluttered at the sight of him, followed by an immediate twinge of pain in my heart. I returned to the couch and tried to act like his presence didn't affect me.

  "Hey," he said, coming to lean against the back of the couch. "How are you two holding up in here?"

  "We're bored out of our minds," I said.

  "We were just talking about wishing we could get out of these rooms for a while," Mary Anne said.

  "Well, that's sort of what I came to talk about," he said. "Andros has asked you to join us for dinner."

  My I-don't-care act went flying out the window at his announcement. I sat up, crossing my legs under me and practically bouncing up and down. "When?" I asked.

  "A real dinner out?" Mary Anne asked. Her face lit up and her eyes sparkled at the thought.

  "Yes, a real dinner out." Jackson smiled, making my stomach flip again. But when he turned to meet my gaze, I stopped smiling and looked away. "Tonight," he said, disappointment in his tone. "If you're up for it."

  "Oh, we're definitely up for it," Mary Anne said with a giggle. She hopped up from the couch and ran toward her room, all traces of her injury gone from her step. "I just have to figure out what to wear."

  She disappeared into her bedroom, leaving me alone with Jackson for the first time in a week. His hand lingered on the back of the couch, just inches from my own. Even though we weren't touching, I could feel the heat of him near me. My entire body was still tuned to him like some kind of hyper-sensitive magnet.

  No one was watching, yet we couldn't touch.

  Could he feel it too? The tension between us? The desire? Or had his feelings changed now that he was home and with his own people again?

  His hand inched closer to mine, but I quickly stood and moved away.

  "I'll go get ready too," I said.

  As casually as I could, I walked by him toward my room. I wanted him to reach out to me, grab me and pull me into his arms and tell me he was wrong to think he could be apart from me. But he didn't move except to turn and watch me go.
<
br />   The Bitter Taste of Unsaid Words

  We entered the Grand Hall and Jackson led us down the staircase, through a couple rows of shops, and finally to a small restaurant at the far end of the hall. Rather than a tent like I had expected, this place was carved into the solid rock. A few tables were occupied outside, but Jackson led us through the rounded entrance and straight up to the hostess.

  I was amazed at how much things here were similar to my world. Sure, we were deep underground and the restaurant was carved into thick black rock. But there was still a hostess and tables and chairs just like any normal restaurant.

  "We're here to see Andros," Jackson said.

  The hostess raised an eyebrow, then looked at Mary Anne and I with curiosity. "Follow me," she said. "We have a private room set up for you in the back."

  She stepped out from the podium and passed by me, her judgmental gaze lingering just a bit too long on my face.

  We followed obediently to the back of the restaurant. As we walked by, I took in the rich smells of the food. I couldn't catch any specific smells that I recognized, but everything smelled so delicious it made my mouth water. I don't think I'd ever been so hungry in my life.

  The hostess disappeared through an archway at the very back of the restaurant. Inside was a small room with one large round table. She motioned for us to take our seats, then disappeared back the way she'd come.

  Sitting down at the table were three demons. Andros, for one. Beside him sat a woman with short, pixie-cut blonde hair. She was small and had pale skin, almost as if she were designed to be her partner's exact opposite. Instead of black eyes like Andros, hers were almost snow white.

  The final guest at the table was a young girl who looked no older than four or five years old. Of course, I had no idea how old that was in demon years. After all, Jackson only looked eighteen, but in truth he was over two hundred years old.

  I smiled at the young girl and she smiled back. Her face was sweet and beautiful and her smile was happy and genuine. My heart warmed. This little girl was the first demon who had truly welcomed me since I first got here.