Chapter Six
I’m halfway into my first pint when the floor of the Hearth starts shaking. Small figurines crash onto the floor. Bits of plaster cascade from the ceiling like snowflakes.
Walker hops to his feet. “It’s another sinkhole!”
“Get the equipment,” says Mom.
Walker closes his eyes and a black, door-sized hole opens up to his right. A ghoul portal. This is how ghouls transport themselves from one side of the after-realms to the other.
Walker steps into the portal, disappears, and returns just as quickly. “I found us a stable spot. We’ve got to get the gear out.”
“Good.” Dad starts unplugging equipment left and right. “Walker and I will link up. Portia, you hand the equipment through the portal. Myla, you grab it on the other side.”
Adrenaline pumps through my body at double speed. We can’t lose our connection to the after-realms. I also don’t want the Hearth to fall down a sinkhole, but we have bigger things to worry about right now.
We quickly create a daisy chain. Dad and Walker link elbows. Mom waits on the opposite side to act as catcher. I’m the pitcher in this scenario, so it’s my job to pass stuff to Mom through the portal.
I quickly unplug all the equipment and hoist the first box of tech. “Ready?” I ask.
“Pass it through,” says Dad.
I press the large box into the darkness. I feel the tug on the other side as Mom picks up the equipment. I let go and the box disappears.
“Did it work?” I ask.
“Yup,” says Dad. “Keep going.” His features strain with effort. Even with Walker’s help, keeping a ghoul portal open this long is a huge physical drain.
I glance at the dozen monitors, routers, servers, and boxes of wires that now lay on the floor. Another tremor convulses the room. I grab the next item in line—a monitor—and pass it through to Mom. A few data servers follow.
Nine more to go.
The Hearth lurches around us again. Beads of sweat drip down my father’s cheek. Hairline fractures appear in the wall. Panic charges me with energy. I focus on passing the routers and servers next; anything that transmits data. Mom grabs them from me in quick succession.
Only three boxes remain.
Another heave strikes the building. The floorboards snap beneath our feet. Dad loses his footing and grabs the edge of the ghoul portal. “Portia! Reach through. Grab your mother’s hand.”
Leaning forward, I grasp into the darkness. There’s no familiar tug on the other side. “I don’t feel Mom anymore. Are you still in contact with Walker?”
“He’s got my right hand.” Dad fixes me with a serious look. “I need you to listen to me carefully. Grab my wrist and hold on tight. I’ll pull us both through.”
An ear-splitting rumble sounds as the floor heaves once again. Chunks of ceiling plaster tumble in. A figure swoops in through the opened ceiling hole, its identity masked by dust and debris. My pulse skyrockets.
“I can’t reach Mom,” I say. “Let go, Dad. I’ll find another way out.”
Dad’s face strains red with effort. His fingertips turn white with the pressure of holding onto the edge of the ghoul portal. “Not good enough. Grab my wrist.”
The figure steps out of the debris. It’s Tempest. He’s in his human form, dressed in black. White light shimmers across his shoulders as his dragon wings appear behind his shoulders. They’re long, black, and reach almost to the ground. Tempest steps to my side.
“I’ve got her, Your Highness.”
Dad’s gaze locks with mine, his features wild with worry. “I want you with your family. Take my—” But Dad finally loses his grip on the portal. He disappears into the darkness. I gasp with shock. On reflex, I reach toward him. Tempest grabs my hands, pulling me backward.
“We’re getting you out of here.” He says. “Now.”
In one smooth motion, Tempest hoists me into his arms. His dragon wings rustle down his back before spreading wide, ready for flight. I ball my hand into his shirt and hold on tight.
The walls crumble. Huge chunks of plaster fall to the floor. Ceiling beams break free, tearing down a knot of wires. Sparks fly. The curtains burst into flame. I wince as a volley of hot sparks flies at my face.
Tempest’s wings beat in a speedy rhythm as we lift from the floor. We quickly rise through the new hole in the ceiling. Below me, the Hearth collapses in on itself. My limbs numb with shock. Every last bit of my childhood home—the floorboards and walls, the picture frames and teaspoons—tumbles into the ground. Glass crashes. Metal snaps. Furniture gets pulverized. Panic spikes through my nervous system. Suddenly, I can’t pull enough air into my lungs.
Tempest curls me more tightly against his chest. His firm arms encircle me, cocooning me in safety. His heartbeat keeps a steady rhythm against my cheek. My breathing slows. I even loosen my death grip on his shirt. Tempest’s voice sounds deep and gentle in my ear. “Are you all right, Portia?”
“I’m fine.” And strangely enough, that’s the truth. Something about Tempest feels as solid and familiar as my books.
We rise higher in the air. The cookie cutter suburban landscape stretches out in every direction. The knot of worry in my chest loosens. There are no more sinkholes other than my parent’s place.
“What do you want to do?” asks Tempest.
“Go to the Grove. Save the after-realms.” I add one last word, my voice tight with urgency. “Now.”
Chapter Seven
Tempest scoops me in his arms and we take off in a new direction. I don’t need to ask where we’re headed. The Gray Sea isn’t far from here, and that’s where Tempest said we’d find the entrance to the Grove.
I rest my head against his chest and catch my breath. “Thank you.”
“For what, luv?”
“Coming back for me.”
“Of course. Dragons have highly developed senses of smell and hearing. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard another sinkhole coming. I turned around the moment I knew. I’m only surprised…” He shakes his head.
“Only surprised about what?”
“I thought you’d want me to take you to your family. They have very strong ideas about how to solve things, and I know you’re all very close.”
“We are, but not when it comes to this. If we met up with them, I’d spend more time convincing them to listen to me than actually saving the after-realms.”
I hadn’t noticed that we’d crossed from the residential area to the Gray Sea. Now that Tempest’s started to descend, I can’t miss the huge swath of charcoal-colored sand beneath us. Tempest arches his wings and we spiral down onto the warm desert.
“We’re here,” says Tempest. He sets me on my feet and I immediately miss his touch. With another flash of light, the wings vanish from Tempest’s shoulders. I look away when he catches me staring.
“Thanks again,” I say quickly. “Now, if you’ll show me the door to the Grove, you can be on your way.”
Tempest’s features turn unreadable. “What?”
Every cell in my body wants me to beg him to help. I can’t ask that of the Emperor of the Furor, though. He has responsibilities other than my schemes to salvage the Firmament.
I grip my hands together anxiously at my waist. “You have your own realm to worry about, Tempest. Someone marked up my face. This must sound crazy, but I think I’m supposed to fix the Firmament.”
Tempest’s gaze softens. “That’s not crazy.”
I puff out a relieved breath. “Whatever it is, it’s my problem, not yours.” I take a pointed step away from him. “Take care of your people, Tempest. Open the door to the Grove and go. You’ve done enough.”
Tempest steps closer until our bodies are only inches apart. “First of all, I wouldn’t be much of a ruler if I didn’t have smart leaders on my team. And second, I am not leaving you, Portia.”
My mind blanks. This news is a shock to my system. “You’re not?”
Tempest cups my chin in his hand. �
�Never.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. I shiver. “Do we understand each other?”
I stare at him, at a total loss for words. He can’t mean never as in never, ever. This is just until the quest is over, right? And hey, we might not even live that long. Still, whatever he’s promising, I’ll take it. I need all the help I can get. Relief winds around me, secure as a blanket. “I understand, Tempest.”
“Good.” He looks into my eyes again, and that intense stare returns. “Ready to open the door to the Grove?”
“I’m ready.”
Tempest begins a low chant in dragon tongue, the sounds snarling and deep. One word repeats over and over with a gentle lilt. Rhana. His incantation rings through the air in odd ways. I don’t know all of what he says. I can translate enough to know that he’s getting ready to open a door of some kind. The atmosphere crackles with magic.
I tilt my head, surprised. I’d expected a lot of things on this crazy quest. Somehow the fact that Tempest would be a wizard was not one of them. At all. He finishes and bows his head.
“You know magic,” I say breathlessly.
Tempest shrugs. “When you become a greater demon, you gain all sorts of interesting skills. For me, magic was one such surprise.” He inhales deeply. “Your Furor blood responds to it, you know.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes grow big with surprise. “I smell?”
Tempest offers me his crooked smile, the one that warms me to my toes. “Nothing unpleasant, luv. Your magic reaches out to mine.”
I shake my head. “Your dragon feelers are off on that one. When I cast, I use words. There is some kind of magic in me, but it doesn’t reach out to anyone. It just locks up my words.” I wince. “I realize that may sound crazy.”
“No, not at all.” He looks at me like I just solved the secrets of the universe. “Quite insightful, I’d say.”
His words warm my soul. Here I am, a woman starved for attention and he’s handing me a five-course meal of praise. This can’t be real. I gesture awkwardly at the desert, anxious to change the subject. “We should get to the Grove.”
“As you command.” When he speaks again, Tempest’s voice booms across the empty desert. “I stand here today, the dragon Tau Epsilon Omicron Theta, Supreme Chieftain of the Firelord tribe, Emperor of the Furor, and Gatherer of the Marked. I demand the Grove open for me.”
A small pit appears in the desert floor. A flight of steps leads down into the darkness.
“Safer if we walk side by side,” says Tempest. “That okay, luv?”
“That’s fine.”
Together, we head down into the mysterious Grove. With every step, I feel the weight of the after-realms fall more squarely on my shoulders. So many people are counting on me now. Please, let me have the strength to help them.
Chapter Eight
Tempest and I follow a winding passageway that’s made from rough-hewn earth. Bits of root and rock jut out from the walls. The scent of fresh soil hangs in the air.
After a few turns, the tunnel opens onto a large underground chamber. The place looks totally deserted. More fresh earth lines the floor and ceiling. A forest of dead trees stretches off into the shadows.
I wince. The smell of decay lingers here. A shiver of unease runs down my spine. That stench is a sure sign of the Void. Could the Scintillion be here, too? I rub my neck, remembering the monster’s chokehold. “Do you think the Void are waiting for us?”
“It’s likely. Stay close.”
Beneath our feet, the root ends slither around like snakes. Within seconds, they realign into a glowing pathway. I inhale a shocked breath. Talk about rolling out the red carpet. “Guess someone knows we’re here.”
“Rather dodgy.” Tempest scans the shadows, his full mouth tightening into a frown. “I don’t like it. Stay close, luv.”
Tempest and I follow the bright trail through the dead forest. It ends in a round clearing that holds four massive trees. A golden glow dances in their bark. Huge roots bore into the soil; hefty branches poke into the earthen ceiling.
Magic pools around and inside everything. The force is liquid, powerful, and turns my skin into gooseflesh. Tempest and I step closer to the four great trees. Each one is as wide around as I am tall.
“The Sacred Trees,” I whisper.
“Yes,” says Tempest, his voice tight.
“What’s wrong?”
“My dragon is on edge. We aren’t alone.”
A man steps out from behind one of the massive trees. “Hey, there.”
I take one look at this guy and then blink hard. No way can this be real.
The stranger is tall and fit with a picture-perfect tan. He’s totally my type, what with his short blond hair, bright blue eyes, and thousand-watt smile. He even has khaki pants with pleats. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up to his elbows.
“I’m Alden. Pleasure to meet you.” The guy steps closer and what I see makes me gasp. He has tribal marks around his right eye. They’re just like mine, only his are white.
I stare at him, open mouthed. “What? How?”
“I know, I know,” he says with a laugh. “Pretty crazy, right? I’m one of the Marked, too.” Alden turns to Tempest. “And you must be her Gatherer.” Tempest nods. Alden offers me his hand. “Pleased to meet you, too, uh…”
“Portia.” I shake Alden’s hand. The touch sends a rush through me. Or more accurately, out of me. Liquid energy flows from my body into his. I pull back my hand like it’s on fire. “What was that?”
Alden shoots me a puzzled look. “Don’t you know? I’m the last Marked. I’ve done what I can for the Firmament. Now my magic’s tapped out. You’re here to replace me.”
My skin still tingles in strange ways. “That doesn’t explain what just happened.”
“I used to carry Firmament energy inside me, just like you do now. But I finished my quest and sent all my power into the Sacred Trees. I’m running on empty these days. Guess I took a little charge off you by mistake.” His blue eyes narrow with suspicion. “How come you don’t know any of this stuff?”
“I study the Firmament,” I say slowly. “I’ve never found any information about the rules of being Marked.”
“Of course not. We’re a super-secret society,” says Alden. “But your Gatherer was supposed to prep you on everything.”
I stare at Tempest. My mouth hangs open with surprise. He called himself my Gatherer when he opened the door. “You knew about all this?”
“I’m your Gatherer. It’s my job to know.”
His answer stings. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I shared everything I could, Portia. My instructions were followed to the letter.” Tempest’s eyes glisten with intensity. “You have to believe me.”
I shiver under the strength of his stare. Only a few minutes ago, I was cradled in Tempest’s arms, feeling cozy and safe. Was that my lonely mind creating someone who wasn’t really there? A sad weight settles into my stomach. “It’s hard to know what to believe.”
Alden steps between us. “Look, we don’t have much time.” He turns his thousand-watt smile on Tempest. “Thanks for gathering her here, man. Great work. You can show yourself out whenever you’re ready.”
My breath catches. “Show himself out?”
Alden shrugs. “Yeah, the Gatherer never goes on the quest.”
My revolving opinions on Tempest take another turn. Whatever he did or didn’t say, I feel better with Tempest along. “Not this time. He goes with us.”
“That’s not how we do things,” says Alden. He tilts his head, considering. “But sure, if it makes you feel better, he can come along for a while. Help us get started.”
Tempest folds his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his leather jacket creak ominously with the motion. “What things are we starting?”
“The quest,” says Alden.
“Any more specifics?”
Alden’s tan complexion loses some color. “We’ve got to rush. Let’s tal
k about it on the way.”
I frown. “I’m with Tempest on this. I’d like to know what we’re supposed to do.”
“Sure, fine.” Alden laughs again. This time, it comes out a little too loud and forced. “Portia is Marked, just like me. We were chosen by the Firmament to carry its power. Our job is to open four seedpods, one for each of the Sacred Trees.” He counts off the trees and their realms on his fingertips. “Heaven, Hell, Earth, and Purgatory.”
“What’s inside the pods?” I ask.
“Golden energy. Firmament magic. Liquid power. That’s what rejuvenates everything.”
I hug my elbows. So many questions fly through my mind, I don’t know where to begin. “How do I find the seedpods?”
Alden shrugs. “Oh, I’ll help you.”
“That’s rather vague,” says Tempest.
“There’s a sphere we use. You ask it where the next seedpod is and it shows you. I’ve got it somewhere safe.”
“It’s Portia’s now. It’s safest with her, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” says Alden slowly. He turns his palm upward and whispers a quick spell. A small wicker sphere materializes in his hand. “This is it, see?”
“I do. Now, give it to Portia,” says Tempest.
A long pause follows. A little too long for comfort. Why is Alden stalling about handing it over? I reach out to him. “I’ll take that, thanks.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Alden hands me the sphere. “Sure. Whatever. So, are we leaving now?”
Tempest rounds on me. “I need to talk to you alone, first.”
Alden frowns. “Do you have to? It’s critical we leave right away.”
The fact that Alden doesn’t want me talking to Tempest? It only makes me want to have the conversation more. “Actually, we absolutely need to talk now. Will you excuse us, Alden?”
“I don’t like it, but it’s your quest.” Alden stomps off into the trees.
Once Alden is out of earshot, I focus on Tempest. “What’s going on?”
Tempest sighs, like he knows what he’s about to say is downright crazy. “Do you know the angel Verus?”
“The oracle angel? Sure. She had a prophecy for my parents.” My brows furrow with confusion. Not sure where he’s going with this.
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