by J. N. Colon
Cyria’s platinum eyebrow arched, but she pivoted and sauntered back to the table.
A snort slipped out watching the demon queen bow to a witch.
Cyria’s blue eyes swiveled in my direction. “Don’t worry, Thorn. When this is all over, I’ll make sure to resume our torture session. I had so much fun watching you scream last time.”
“You’re not going to lay a finger on her.” Caleb strained against the chains binding us, digging the metal links into my torso.
The queen’s smoky laughter bounced through the hollow room. “This is so fascinating. The fae prince, of all people, defending a witch.” She grabbed her wine, watching it swirl along the sides of the glass like blood. “Didn’t Lorcan and Isolde die by the hand of witches?”
Tremors rippled through Caleb, jostling the chains again and making me wince. “And how many fae do you intend to kill when this is all over?” he asked.
My throat tightened from the pain clawing at the edges of the prince’s voice. Isolde was no doubt his mother’s name.
“Silence!” Helena’s voice snapped like a whip. “I am trying to concentrate.”
Cyria chuckled and perched on the edge of the table, flashing Tate and Giovanna a grin.
The necromancer grabbed a copper bowl she’d prepared the spell mixture in, bringing it to her face and sniffing the contents. She mumbled something under her breath and then grabbed an object wrapped in a black cloth.
Ghostly fingers trickled down my nape when she revealed the fresh carcass of a snowy dove. Helena lifted the twisted blade high in the air, bringing it down on the table to sever the bird’s head.
I flinched, and my fingers curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. Plenty of animals were sacrificed in rituals, but a white dove was almost as sacred as a raven.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb’s head momentarily rested against mine. “You’re breathing fast.”
As Helena roughly squeezed the frail carcass over the bowl to add its blood to the spell mixture, I couldn’t stop the shiver sinking into my bones.
“That’s no regular waking spell, not like any I’ve read about.” This ritual wasn’t in the death tomes in Ellexia’s extensive reliquary. “It’s magic of the darkest kind.”
“Maybe it has to be to bring the humans back as demons,” Caleb said, tensing regardless.
The witch used the bloody spell mixture to draw a large ritual circle on the cement that had been swept of dust and debris. Sigils of power and protection gleamed in the slick red concoction as she traced them along the border with her finger.
Magic sifted through the atmosphere, crawling along my skin like writhing bugs. For once, I was glad my powers were hiding deep inside. I didn’t want to feel the sinister vibrations of this spell.
The necromancer set the bowl back on the table and then ripped the blade of the demon dagger across her palm, drawing blood. “My power reaches across the great divide. Souls departed and life severed. My blood will ensnare you, body and mind. Wake the dead, leave no one behind.” She flicked her hand out to spray crimson across the center of the ritual circle.
A cold breeze blew through the warehouse, lifting the sweaty hair from my nape and chilling my bones. I choked back the unease and continued to watch the necromancer even though part of me wanted to close my lids against the unfolding nightmare.
She lifted her hands high above her head, the knife pointing straight to the heavens. “I call upon the winds of the north, the water of the south, the earth of the west, and the fire of the east.”
Every candle flame shot toward the pitched metal roof, nearly licking the rickety catwalk stretching above. Tiny grains of dirt and gravel began to vibrate on the ground, and moisture collected in the air.
And then the howl of a storm whipped through the building, like the shrieking of angry souls slamming into the rippled metal walls.
My heart thumped faster than the beat of hummingbird wings. The candles encircling the pile of bodies hovered a few inches off the ground. Their orange and blue flames didn’t burn upright like the rest. Instead, they bent sideways at an odd, unnatural angle.
This whole damn thing was unnatural.
Warm fingers slid down my hand. “We’re going to get out of this, Thorn,” Caleb yelled over the thundering wind. “My father will send the sentries when he realizes we’ve been gone too long.”
My fingers returned the comforting squeeze. “I know.”
But even if Lachlan came himself, it would be too late. The spell was almost complete.
Purple sparks whipped around Helena, morphing into oily black bands that slithered down her arms. The electric tang of magic clashed with rot and blood. My death raker powers rumbled under the surface like a sluggish beast, trying to reach out and connect with the necromancer’s spell.
Helena’s hair whipped around her face, the purple of her eyes so bright they made my own sting. “As it is below and above. So mote it be. My will is done.”
A booming crack of thunder tore through the warehouse, and lightning flashed in a blinding explosion. I shifted my head away as a storm of power lashed at me. Caleb grunted from the force of it, and the chairs we were chained to trembled.
Son of a bitch. The spell had to look like a mild earthquake on the Richter scale.
When the howling wind died and my ears stopped ringing, I finally turned back toward the ritual circle. Helena slowly lowered her arms, the stone in the dagger’s hilt glowing like red molten lava.
“Give it a moment, and they shall awaken.”
The necromancer’s words sent icicles through my bloodstream. And her smile. Something about that smile had my scalp prickling.
A groan resonated from the corner of the room, and the heap of bodies began to writhe.
Oh, gods. Her spell worked.
A thin female with spindly limbs crawled out from the bottom of the pile and staggered to her feet, her narrow chest heaving. The gaping hole over her heart had knit back together.
“Lovely.” Cyria frantically motioned her hand at Tate. “Bring her to me.”
Obediently, Tate stood and strode forward, quickly reaching the demon with his long legs. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right.”
The girl slowly lifted her head. A pair of blood-red eyes gleamed from between matted strands of dirty yellow hair.
Air siphoned from my lungs. Why weren’t her eyes demon blue?
“Uh, my queen…” Tate began to back away, shaking his head. “I think something—”
The girl launched herself at the tall demon, jagged teeth ripping into his throat like a hot knife through butter.
Tate’s onyx blood spurted across the grimy floor, and his screams drowned out the girl’s vicious snarls.
A flurry of fae curses exploded out of Caleb. “She’s feral.”
Feral and terrifying.
The girl dropped Tate to the ground, his lifeless gaze staring vacantly at the ceiling. The glamour fell away, revealing a pair of small horns protruding from his forehead.
“What happened to her?” Cyria’s hands trembled by her sides as she glared at the necromancer. “Why is she wild?”
Helena gave a casual shrug, but the sinister twist of her lips said it all. The necromancer hadn’t screwed up the spell. She’d made some enhancements of her own.
Dark ones.
The pile of bodies thrashed again as growls rattled the metal walls of the warehouse. Creatures began to crawl to their feet, crimson eyes blazing through the shadows in search of prey.
And we were their prime targets.
Chapter 28
Pandemonium erupted in the warehouse as every corpse Helena had woken from the dead turned into a savage beast and began attacking the closest demons. Screams pierced the atmosphere, colliding with blood and death.
Once the necromancer’s creatures tore through Cyria’s underlings, Caleb and I would be next.
“They’re going to kill all of them,” Caleb yelled over the bedlam, struggling wit
h the magical restraints on his wrists. “We have to get out of here.”
No shit.
The necromancer marveled at her creations as they struck with the supernatural strength and speed of demons and a one-track mind focused on destruction. That spell had almost topped some of the nastiest ones I’d witnessed from Ellexia.
“Feed, my ferals.” With a flick of her wrist, Helena floated the leather satchel of mystical items across the room and into her hands.
Cyria whipped around as Helena tossed the bag over her shoulder and stashed the knife inside. “You’re going to pay for this, necromancer.”
Oily tar spilled through the queen’s irises, and her glamour faded. Her teeth grew longer and pointed as her complexion paled even more, stretching tightly over sharp, hollow cheekbones.
Caleb twisted in the chains, yanking me against the hard back of the chair. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here before those things run out of demons to eat.”
I winced from the sharp pain radiating across my arms. “How? I’ve got a witch dampener sigil, and you’re in magical restraints—ones I can’t remove without my powers.”
“What if I could destroy the sigil on you?” Caleb grunted as he pulled at the chain attaching the two magical restraints. With a violent yank, the metal cracked apart, freeing one of his arms.
Holy shit. Tinkerbell was stronger than I thought. The cuffs still bound his powers, but it took a lot of brute force to sever metal.
“They missed the knife in my boot.” He lifted his foot toward his hand. “I could slice into the symbol to destroy the magic barrier.”
Acid oozed up my throat. “You can’t just destroy it. Every part of the sigil has to be removed.” I licked my dry, numb lips. “You’ll have to cut it off.”
Caleb halted. “You mean slice that part of your skin off?”
“Yep.”
Cyria’s battle cry muffled the prince’s string of curses. “No one crosses me and gets away with it.” The demon queen darted toward Helena, talons outstretched and teeth bared.
The necromancer lifted her hand, purple sparks arcing between her fingers. “Ferals, protect your maker!”
The ferals, as she so lovingly called them, abandoned their demon victims and rushed toward Helena, creating a circle of protection around her. Their jaws snapped, and hungry gazes bored into the queen.
Cyria skidded to a stop. “Give me the dagger, witch. It doesn’t belong to you.”
Helena’s tinkling laughter contrasted with the growls bouncing off the metal and concrete. “Many things can be accomplished with the ancient magic collected in the dagger. Why should you reap the benefits of all Astrix had to offer?”
The ferals inched toward the demon queen, black blood coating their jagged teeth and dripping down their chins. Murder bled through their glowing crimson stares. They wanted to tear into Cyria’s porcelain flesh.
“This isn’t over, Helena.” The demon queen took several more steps back as the few remaining demons flanked her. “I will find you, witch. I promise.”
The necromancer chuckled. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Cyria spun and bolted toward the front exit with her demons in tow, leaving Caleb and me like forgotten toys.
Helena gently patted a few of the ferals. “You three, come with me.” She turned in our direction, a sinister smile pulling at her lips. “The rest of you have fun.”
My heart shuddered to a stop. The necromancer just sent us straight to the gallows.
“Why are you doing this?” I struggled in the chair, rattling the chains. “You could at least let us go.”
Helena tsked. “You might come after this.” She patted the leather bag, either referring to the knife or the other mystical items.
The ferals parted, allowing her to walk through, three of them closely following her like demented bodyguards. The rest slowly swiveled in our direction, hunger oozing from them.
Caleb cursed. “I’m having trouble getting the knife.”
My heart pounded against my ribs as ten ferals crept toward us, guttural roars bouncing through the warehouse. It felt like we were survivors in a zombie apocalypse who were about to join the other side.
The chains bit into my arms and torso as Caleb fought, his fingers straining toward the metal object glinting in his boot. Sweat dripped off his cheek, splattering against the dirty floor.
“Come on, Tinkerbell. You can do it.” My breath came in quick pants. The ferals were only a few feet away. “I believe in fairies. I’d clap if I could.”
He grunted. “You’re joking now? I must be rubbing off on you, Rose Thorn.” His fingers slipped inside his boot and slowly pulled out the knife. “Got it.” He flicked it open and shifted back, pressing it into my arm.
And then he hesitated.
“Caleb, you have to do it.” I trembled as the stench of decay clogged my lungs. “They’re too close. They’re going to kill us if you don’t slice the sigil off!”
The pressure of the knife increased, but not hard enough to break skin. “Fuck!” Caleb yelled and then yanked the sharp blade across my lower arm, slicing a couple of inches of flesh clean off.
A scream tore out of my mouth, even startling the ferals. Pain registered only for a moment as the shock of my powers slamming back into my core overrode everything else. My head leaned against Caleb’s shoulder as magic filled every cell in my body.
The rusted catwalk dangling from the pitched ceiling blurred out of focus, and a haze clouded my mind. My pulse thundered, drowning out vicious snarls.
Someone yelled my name. Was it time for more training already? Couldn’t I sleep for five more minutes?
“Thorn! Get up! Get up now!”
My vision slowly cleared—right as a pair of ruby eyes loomed inches from mine. Stained, jagged teeth nipped at my neck.
I gasped, and magic exploded out of me, knocking the closest feral across the room.
Hellfire and Hecate! That thing had almost torn my throat out.
Electric vines of magic slithered over the metal chains binding Caleb and me, shattering them into a million pieces. I jumped out of the hard chair and stumbled right into a feral. Her long talons swiped through the air to claw my face off.
I blocked her hit and smashed my elbow into her nose. Blood flew from the wound in my arm. Shit. That needed a bandage, pronto.
“Thorn!” Caleb kicked a feral across the room and shook the restraints on his wrists still keeping his powers at bay.
I laid my hands on the cuffs, sparks flying as a jolt of magic slammed into them. A loud pop echoed, and the manacles cracked, dropping to the floor with a vibrating thud.
Caleb ducked as a feral lunged. He shot up and slammed his fist into her jaw, sending her flying across the gory warehouse.
“We need to kill these things.” He whipped around, searching for our weapons. When he noticed the ribbons of blood dripping down my arm, he released a vibrant string of curses. “You need a bandage. Now.”
“Well, Doctor Blackwood, I don’t see a first aid kit around.” I shot an energy ball at an approaching feral. Damn it. Did these things have a kill switch? Decapitation usually worked for anything.
Oh, gods. What if they still ran around with their heads cut off?
The rip of fabric caught my attention, and I turned as Caleb tore the bottom of his shirt.
“Here.” He drew me closer and began tightly wrapping my arm in the black material.
My gaze landed on Caleb’s shredded abs peeking out to give a shy wave hello. I licked my lips, my throat suddenly parched.
“Like what you see, Rose Thorn?” That signature smirk melted across Caleb’s face.
A flash of light where the bodies had been before Helena woke them caught my attention. “Actually, I do.” I jerked my chin toward the corner. “Our weapons.”
He bolted to the other side of the warehouse while I slammed another energy ball at the closest feral. Caleb grabbed the sword he had strapped to his ba
ck earlier and then found my magic fae hilt. When he whispered saor, the blade materialized.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, tossing it to me.
I caught the sword and twirled it around, slashing the head of a feral off before he bit me. “We need to get that dagger from Helena. There’s no telling what other nightmares the necromancer could create besides ferals.”
Caleb gave a sharp nod. “I don’t want to ever find out.”
We attacked the ferals until the angry growls ceased. Once their heads were severed, their bodies hit the ground. And didn’t move again.
I wiped sweat from my brow with my throbbing arm. If I ever had another witch dampening sigil branded on me, it would be too soon. “I think that’s all of them.”
Caleb’s fingers curled in my shirt to draw me toward him. “Let’s go. We need to get word to my father.”
As we sprinted for the exit, I pulled up short when a dark piece of material lying haphazardly on a chair caught my eye.
“What are you doing?” the prince called over his shoulder.
I snatched my leather jacket from the chair, threading my arms through. “I’m not leaving this behind.”
“I knew you’d like it,” he mumbled under his breath, biting back a grin.
The chilly air cooled the sweat coating my skin as we crashed through the rusted doors of the warehouse. I put away the blade on my sword and stowed the hilt in my jacket pocket. Sirens blared in the distance, a usual occurrence for this part of the city.
Caleb settled his sword into the holster on his back before we skulked around the corner of the abandoned laundromat. Cyria and a group of demons milled a few feet away. Just as her head began to swivel in our direction, Caleb yanked me back and pushed me against the brick wall.
I opened my mouth to speak, but he laid his finger over my lips to cut me off.
“I can’t let that necromancer get out of the city with my dagger,” Cyria hissed. “She’s ruined everything.”
Another demon cleared his throat. “Perhaps, my queen, we should think about lying low. King Lachlan will most likely present this to the council. That doesn’t bode well for us.”