by Eric Asher
Ashley had paled, and Alexandra cursed. She felt around the blade in the priestess’s chest. “Damn good thing you didn’t pull that out. Sure as hell didn’t miss any arteries.”
Elizabeth wrung her hands before reaching out and taking Ashley’s. “You’ll be okay.”
Ashley’s white lips pulled up into a weak smile before her eyes closed, and she went limp.
Elizabeth reached down to her face, eyes wide. “Ashley? Ashley!”
“This will look bad when I pull the blade out,” Alexandra said. “Don’t stop me.”
Elizabeth nodded, her hands going white as she pulled away and crossed Ashley’s beneath her grip.
With one vicious pull, the blade slid out of Ashley’s chest. A stream of blood followed it but it didn’t spray across the ground. Blood didn’t splatter across her friends. Instead, it hung in the air, surrounded by a floating ball of water connected to Alexandra’s hand. Even as the knife clattered to the ground, the magic funneled Ashley’s blood back into the wound, preventing any further loss.
Alexandra worked like that for a time, and it seemed like the water floating above Ashley filled with more and more blood, but Vicky stared in awe as Alexandra worked, her form becoming more translucent, pulling the wound wide. She worked in Ashley’s chest as if she was a surgeon and this was her operating table.
The arteries slowly came back together, the blood feeding its way back inside of Ashley, until finally the severed artery was whole again, the muscle filaments were carefully laid back down, and a dull white glow ran the length of each cut as Alexandra rebuilt her layer by layer.
This wasn’t the bright healing of one of the fairies, this was delicate work, precision. As the last vestige of the wound in Ashley’s chest closed, traced by a white line of Alexandra’s magic, Ashley gasped.
Elizabeth burst into tears, throwing her arms around Ashley as Alexandra sagged back onto the ground.
“It’s done,” the water witch said with a deep sigh. “She should recover. She’s going to need rest. The blood loss was more than I’d hoped.”
“What about Hugh?” Haka asked.
Alexandra smiled. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
Haka turned and almost stumbled backward.
Hugh was standing there, just finishing up buttoning his shirt. “Just needed some time to heal. I’ll be fine. Did you get the Heart?”
“Not yet,” Splitlog said. “There were … obstacles. Vicky had to heal Alan’s wounds so he didn’t keel over.”
“We have no time to spare,” Hugh said. “Elizabeth, will you take Ashley and Alan back to the lair to rest?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Do you need us?”
“We must keep the Heart safe,” Hugh said. “But you must keep our friends safe.”
“You don’t mind if I … borrow the Heart do you?” Vicky asked.
Hugh started to frown at Vicky, a question on his lips before Elizabeth cut them off.
“This wasn’t the only leviathan.” She tapped away on her phone. “Look.” She turned the phone around, and the slideshow played, showing leviathans in the mountains and rivers. Disgust twisted Hugh’s stomach when he saw some of them smashing through residential neighborhoods.
“Nudd,” Hugh said.
Elizabeth nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. But how in the hell can he do this? Do you remember what it took Ezekiel to summon just one of those things?”
Hugh nodded. “Of course, but how many like Ezekiel labor under the will of Nudd? That I cannot answer.”
“Have they only appeared here?” Vicky asked.
Elizabeth turned to Vicky. “Did you see the pictures? They’re everywhere.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Vicky said. “What about Faerie?”
Alexandra cursed. “That would be smart of him. If he divided the assault between realms, it would be hard for us to unite in defense.”
“What concerns me more is Nudd sent the leviathan here, almost directly on top of the Heart of Quindaro.” Hugh turned his gaze to Vicky. “Perhaps he already knows what you seek.”
The thought nauseated her. If Nudd knew what she was here for, he might already know what else she needed. She hadn’t even talked to Koda yet, didn’t know what else she might need to transfer the blood knot.
Luna squeezed her arm. “It’s all right, the rest of us are here. We can get the Heart and keep it safe.”
“Can we?” Vicky asked, looking up at Luna’s dark eyes before turning to Hugh. “Is it safe for me to use it? Do you know why I need it?”
“If the innkeeper sent you here seeking the Heart, I can imagine what you need it for. You mean to transfer the blood knot, so if Damian should die, you will still live.”
“Not just me,” Vicky said. “Sam too. If any of us die, that’s it for all three of us.”
“What kind of insane magic are you talking about?” Splitlog asked.
“Old magic,” Hugh said. “A magic formed by Ward, binding three souls, and sealed with the blood of the family. It is a nearly unbreakable bond. If death takes one, it takes all three.”
Hugh took a deep breath, and his eyes flashed from Luna to Vicky. “What you seek is no small trinket. It is a fragment of a demon, meant to sabotage the people here, that instead brought many together. The risks of carrying it are not small. It can eat away your confidence, raise your paranoia, and force you to question those you would trust the most.”
“But can she have it?” Luna asked.
“It is not mine to give,” Hugh said. “We may speak of it as an artifact, but it rests in a black altar.”
“And how do you expect to get that back?” Ashley asked. “Last person I know who was crazy enough to use one of those was Damian. It brought a demon to his doorstep.”
Vicky shrugged. “He still killed it.”
Ashley’s eyebrows slowly rose as she studied Vicky. “And he almost died like five times doing it.”
Hugh crossed his arms and let out a sigh. “I can take you to the altar, but you’ll have to pass the trial yourself if you mean to keep the Heart. I won’t stop you from taking it.”
“Trial?” Vicky asked. And what at first she thought was tantamount to picking up an antique, she suddenly realized might be far more complicated.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alexandra accompanied Hugh, Vicky, and Luna as they returned to the stone cabin. Elizabeth and Splitlog stayed behind to help watch over the others.
“How is Nixie?” Hugh asked.
Alexandra hesitated. “As well as one can expect, I suppose. She’s holding herself together.”
“And the meeting in the UK?”
“Apparently it went well enough. She’s been invited to speak at the UN. She’s going, but I wouldn’t say she’s in the mood for diplomacy. Things are tense among the water witches. Some of Lewena’s people returned to the fold, but there are many more who trust no one.”
“What was Nixie doing in the UK?” Vicky asked.
Alexandra glanced at her before turning her attention back to the gravel path. “Discussing the state of the war with some of Parliament. Many in the commoners’ government there know who she is now. It is a strange thing, to have lived so long in hiding and secrecy, only to have things shift to be so open because of Nudd’s war.”
“Whether it was Nudd or someone else,” Hugh said, “it was always a matter of time.”
“I know in some ways you’re right,” Alexandra said. “But we already threw down the Mad King. And yet here he is once more, still alive, wreaking havoc on a world we thought victorious over him millennia ago.”
“Here, now, releasing a leviathan?” Hugh said. “And if he is crazed enough to do that, what else is coming?”
“It means there’s some level of desperation in his plans,” Alexandra said. “No one can truly control a leviathan. Not even the Mad King.”
“He is truly the same Fae?” Hugh asked.
Vicky studied the old wolf. He didn’t seem surprised
by the revelation, but gods knew most of the others had been. Drake had been right all along. He’d dropped hints, but he’d never come right out and said it. Vicky wondered if it was some old oath he’d made that kept the secrets from his lips and, even if it was, how could that possibly apply to the monster Nudd had become?
“A madman to some,” Alexandra said. “And a hero to others. I suppose there will always be some madness in the world, but I do wish they would take a day off.”
* * *
Hugh led them into a circle of barely sunken earth at the center of the stone cabin’s ruins.
“The altar is here,” Hugh said, gesturing to the ground. “The rest of us can keep watch to make sure the Unseelie Fae do not return, but only one may enter the altar.”
“You could always clean up that leviathan,” Vicky said. “Smells like burned octopus from here.”
Jasper chittered in agreement.
“How do I get in?” Vicky asked.
“It has been almost two centuries since I last saw the altar sink into the ground. I suspect it will rise much the same.” He reached out a hand, bent down, and brushed away the earth. Each swipe of his fingers dug into the grass and dirt beneath, until there was something more resistant. Vicky thought she could see a black stone patina peeking through the dirt. Hugh cleared away a little more earth and then placed his palm upon the darkness.
The others stepped back as a series of runes sprang to life, the threat of fiery magic leaping from one to the next, until each, in turn, had been connected by a webwork of knots and runes.
The fires died. And nothing happened.
“The stories of black altars always speak of a blood price,” Hugh said, gripping his hands together. “When dealing with devils, you always pay in blood.”
Something clicked in Vicky’s memory. The story Damian had once told her. She nodded rapidly. “He’s right. Damian wrote a letter in blood and placed it on an altar. Everything has to do with blood with these things.”
Hugh sighed and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text message and brushed more dirt away from the top of the black stone. “I’ve asked Elizabeth to join us. Offering your blood to demons seldom ends well.”
“You think she can get in?” Luna asked. “Without paying the price?”
“No,” Hugh said. “But she may be able to tell us something of this magic. There are altars across this world and others. It is best to be cautious.”
“But the Heart is hidden inside it?” Vicky asked.
Hugh nodded. “Since the times of the Civil War, when this place was a haven, and many enslaved people found their freedom here. Even Zola’s path took her through Quindaro.”
Vicky blinked at that, her eyes trailing from the black stone up to Hugh. “Did she hide it? I know she and Philip used to hide shit all over the place.”
Hugh chuckled. “That is accurate, but this is not something she hid. This was meant to sabotage the city. To pit nation against nation, and men against men. Instead, it united them. I wish you could have seen this city in those times. There were many good people here, living together in something like harmony, but there was darkness too. I wouldn’t trust it to have the same effect in these times.”
* * *
They waited there for a time, until footsteps crunched nearby, and Elizabeth appeared on the path to the stone cabin.
Hugh gestured to the uncovered obsidian disc. He placed his hand on it, calling the fiery runes into existence once more, only to have them fizzle out. “Can you tell how we can get into this? What price it requires?”
Elizabeth frowned at the circle of stone. She pulled her blade from her belt and carved a deep line in her forearm before running her fingers through the blood. Her fingers danced across her skin, drawing patterns and whorls before she splayed her fingers and held them out in front of her. She seemed to be looking through the space between her fingers, studying the earth and something above it no one else could see.
Elizabeth growled. “This is no altar. This is a trap.”
“Most of the altars are,” Hugh said. “But can you tell what the price is?”
“The price is blood,” Elizabeth said. “But I can see the echoes of what’s to come, of who has died in this place before. Whoever activates that altar will likely be trapped inside it.” She wrapped gauze around her arm and smeared the blood away from her fingers.
Elizabeth turned her attention back to Hugh. “Whoever goes into that may not be coming out. You activate the altar and a cage is going to close over you. I can see it here.” She traced the shape through the air, a kind of rectangle lined up with the angles of the knots tying the runes together. “The depression in the center looks to be the trigger. Put enough blood in it, and there won’t be any going back.”
“It is the only way to the Heart …” Hugh said, the words trailing away.
But if that was true, and there was no way to save Damian and Sam without it, Vicky didn’t have a choice. She pulled on the edge of Luna’s wing until it was taut, and sliced deeply into her forearm.
“Hey!” Luna snapped, pulling her wing away.
Before anyone else could so much as protest, before Hugh could grab her and pull her away, the blood coursing down Vicky’s arm fell into the depression at the center of the stone. The runes burst into brilliant life, the lines between them turning as bright as the sun before a barrier shimmered into life between her and the others. By the time the divot finished filling with blood, Vicky couldn’t see through the glowing walls. Their light dimmed, and a darkness deeper than the Abyss settled all around her.
“Oh no,” a deep and brittle voice said. “Little demon, what have you done.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Vicky hadn’t known what to expect when she stepped onto the altar. But the glowing outline of the horned beast materializing in front of her sure as hell wasn’t it. “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” the demon asked, baring a row of dagger-like teeth. “I am one who used to be, but is no more.”
“Great, riddles.” Vicky muttered.
“To take the Heart, you must pass the trial. You can save yourself much pain by dying now instead.”
“That’s a great offer,” Vicky said, showing a hard smile. “Why don’t we try the trial anyway? Just for fun?”
“Very well.” The demon reached out in a flash, and his scaly clawed fingers closed around Vicky’s face. In an instant, the darkness vanished, and an old familiar sight rose up in her vision. A vision that couldn’t be real, because she left it behind long ago.
But there was no mistaking the old throne room. No mistaking the plains sweeping out before it, the twisted trees and the trolls who lived within them. This was the Burning Lands.
And even as she thought it, a voice whispered in her mind. This is where you belong. This is what you are. And in that moment, her vision turned as if she had stepped outside of her own head, so she could see from outside the throne room, see the figure sitting upon it, the fire in her eyes, the cracked lines running through her flesh, and the corpses below her feet.
Prosperine.
The Destroyer.
Queen of the Burning Lands, the demon who’d had her claws in Vicky for so long, but she was gone now. Vicky had slain her with Damian’s help.
Still, she was here, breathing, standing, walking toward Vicky until she reached out a hand and cupped her cheek. “You will never be rid of me, girl. You are me.”
And for the first time in a very long time, terror crawled down Vicky’s spine. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. She’d overcome this before. Prosperine had killed her friends, slaughtered the werewolves, only to take her over as she rose to power in the Ghost Pack. Prosperine was not her, but the ice crawling into her bones made her want to scream.
“You know what you are,” Prosperine said, not breaking eye contact. “I have seen you kill before. How many have you slaughtered now? How many didn’t you banish to the Sea of Souls?”
She�
�d do it again in a heartbeat. Anyone, anything, that came for her friends or family would be struck down. Justice had to be dealt.
“Justice …” Prosperine said with a snide laugh. “You speak of justice, but you are only a murderer. You were born to be the Destroyer, and even after corrupting my power, you still deal in death.”
Prosperine leaned in close, baring her teeth. “You enjoy it.”
Vicky’s heart leapt into her throat at those words. She tried to hide the reaction, the horror of how true those words rang.
“You can’t leave me behind, little demon.”
Prosperine’s face changed. The ravaged flesh and blood-red tissue beneath it softened as the chasms drew together, her cheeks filling out until Vicky was staring at someone else. Staring at herself, bloody and hard-eyed with only the faintest traces of the cracked skin of Prosperine.
The scene behind the Destroyer shifted, the darkness becoming a battlefield strewn with the broken bodies of her enemies and the screams of the dying. But then, as she looked down at the blood pooling into a mirror around her feet, the reflection showed her own face, now savaged with the cracked flesh of the demon, Prosperine.
Her limbs moved, fury rising as if it might seep from the very pores of her skin. This demon was dead, and she’d kill it again, a million times over if that’s what it took.
But that was wrong. This was all wrong. Even as the soulsword sprang to life in her hand, she stared into the baleful eyes of the demon, her own eyes, and remembered what Hugh had told her.
“You feed on fear.” Vicky drew up to her full height.
“What?”
“You’re right,” Vicky said, a cold acceptance settling into her chest. “This is a part of me now.”
“Every creature in every world has fear, Destroyer. Every. Single. One. And it will destroy you, child. Your kind falls to fear so easily, and it makes you the ideal vessels. You let it twist you by inches until the mirror you look upon shows only evil, but you somehow see justice.”