“I am called Niram,” The demon said, appraising me. “I would like to speak with you, Kendra Garrity.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “I'm here. You're here. Your zombie horde is here. I don’t really have much of a choice. But can you please not look like him?” The words were out before I realized it and I instantly regretted them. I knew I was pushing my luck.
The Niram raised his eyebrows, as though surprised. “Very well,” He said. He added, “What form would please you better?”
“Something boring,” I said immediately, not liking the way his voice had lingered on the words: please you.
Less than a heartbeat passed and in the blink of an eye, Niram had transformed himself. There was no preamble to it – one moment he looked just like Gwydion had looked when we were kids, and the next he no longer looked like my brother, but instead like a stranger. A very handsome stranger, I noticed immediately.
Longish chestnut hair, a sensual brow, lashes a shade too long for a man, smooth and lightly tanned complexion with just the barest hint of stubble, a chiseled movie star sort of jaw line, full lips. A well proportioned and, I hated myself for noticing this, a very masculine body that was muscled in all the right places. He was wearing a form-fitting white t-shirt and skin-tight jeans. I refused to let my eyes drop to below his belt line. He's evil, I reminded myself.
“Erm,” I cleared my throat, “Thank you.”
He inclined his head and giving me a wicked grin, “I'm glad you approve.”
I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. “So,” I said, “you mentioned something about letting me go?”
“Sure,” Niram said, losing his smile. “Does that surprise you?”
“You're a demon,” I said, feeling more than a little confused. “Why not just kill me?”
The moment the words had passed my lips, I inwardly winced. Idiot, I thought, kicking myself mentally. “Or,” I backpedaled, “That does seem like an awful lot of work and I'm sure you could use a breather after that costume change. And after raising all these zombies—”
“Stop talking,” He said, interrupting me. “You're going to listen, girl. I don't have any desire to kill you. But I will do much worse to you than that if you force my hand. Did your warlock tell you nothing of this place when he convinced you to lay down your life to come here? There are worse things to fear here than death.”
“He did mention that, actually,” I muttered. Then I added, “What happened to Rory? You know, don't you?”
He grinned at me again, “I'd be more worried about myself right now, if I were you.”
“You did something to him,” I accused. I heard the fear in my own voice and hated myself for it. I instinctively knew I shouldn't display any weaknesses in front of this creature. “He never would have just left me here.”
“Are you quite certain of that?”
A million possibilities I had forced myself to not think about tore at the edges of my mind. Though, if I was being completely honest, I was still half-expecting Rory to come galloping around a corner to come save me. I realized all at once that no one was coming.
I would have to save myself.
“You know,” Niram mused, “I like you. I like your moxie. Not many people would be brave or foolish enough to consent to come here under any circumstance.” He added, “And those who do choose to come here, well, they come for one reason and one reason only.”
“Sun, sand, and beaches? If so, I have to say that the travel guides over-sold this place.”
The demon watched me with inscrutable black eyes, but his lips curved with the ghost of a smile. “No, girl. They come here for power. Long ago, a certain sort of human realized that a key to obtaining great power is to willfully die — and to return from death — before their allotted time. Whatever other lofty reasons they might give, they come for one thing alone: power.”
I thought back to what Rory had told me. Gwydion had done this to himself in order to give Rory the power to escape the witches, so that Rory could use the power released by the claiming to escape. It had been a desperate move. He’d placed a lot of faith in Rory’s ability to rescue them both from the coven — and to figure out a way to save him. He’d never wanted to become a witch.
Even as I thought this, another explanation slid into place as though it had been there all along. What if he had wanted this?
He wouldn't have put himself in this position for power, I assured myself. But a thread of doubt entered me. I couldn't ignore that my brother had his own darkness. It was there, alongside of everything else, and it always had been. What if he had learned about the witches and had seen what they could do? What if he’d wanted power like that for himself?
Over the years — and even now — I'd often worried I didn't really know my brother. What if I was right? What if I really had no idea who Gwydion was? Or what he was capable of?
Niram gave me a cold smile and his eyes pierced mine for an instant.
He's making me think these things, I realized. Or maybe I thought them all along, but he's twisting them somehow, making them seem worse, darker.
Anger, bright and hot, blossomed in my chest, pushing the thoughts away.
You know Gwydion, I told myself firmly.
“Interesting,” Niram said, losing his smile once more. Though, for a split second, I thought I saw something like respect flash in his eyes. “You're an interesting girl, Kendra.”
“I get that a lot,” I shot back.
“Do you know what I am?”
“You're a demon.” My throat closed around the word demon. I added, trying — and failing — for bravado, “The black eyes, mind control, and zombie-raising powers give it away.”
“I suppose the warlock would tell you such a thing. From his perspective, perhaps I am a demon. But what I am truly is a guardian of this place,” Niram said. “This is a place of power, but real power cannot be freely given. It must be earned — or taken by force. Humans come here for its power, down to the last of them,” A note of anger entered his voice. “They come here to be made witch.”
His eyes slid away from me and fell on something in the distance. He was silent for a long moment and there was a trace of bitterness on his face.
I frowned inwardly, studying him. The flash of emotion had confused me. From what Rory had told me, I'd expected a being that was basically pure evil. Now I was less certain.
“They've come since the dawn of humanity. Generation after generation of witches and those who would become witches. All of them seeking power. But not you,” He said at last, turning his attention back to me. He studied me with a strange, almost thoughtful expression. “I'm afraid that you're the oddity. You come for love. You have no interest in power, I can tell. That makes you an interesting case.”
“Interesting how?”
His lips curved into a sardonic smile, “Oh, in the most delicious of ways,” he said softly. “But that would be telling.”
Enough of this, I thought.
The demon was maddening and each moment I wasted was another step closer to losing Gwydion. I could feel the seconds ticking by.
“I came for my brother,” I said firmly, very aware that half the dead bodies in the graveyard were lined up behind me, waiting on the command to tear me limb from limb. “I just want my brother. And Rory. And to be pretty much anywhere but here.”
“Leave this place. It's your easiest and best course of action,” Niram said. “I will gladly assist you. But in return, I need your word that you will not return until your allotted time.”
“I can't do that. Not without my brother.”
“Yes, of course,” He said, his expression darkening. “You do not belong here, Kendra. You are an innocent, which is why I offer you the kindness of sparing your life. I do not offer it to many.” Niram's voice hardened, “But your brother does belong here. He stays and passes or fails his trials on his own merits. I cannot let him leave.”
“That mak
es no sense,” I said, my voice rising. The anger that had started in my chest was coursing through me now, hot and steady. “Most witches have guides when they come here, right? Gwydion didn't. That isn't a fair trial. Let me pass.”
“Most witches won't be able to turn the blood flowing through the veins of another being into fire with a glance,” He said harshly, his voice rising to match mine. “He will be able to wield the forces of nature at a whim. He bound himself to the first mother of us all, to the very earth herself. Such great power requires an equally great test of character and will.”
“And what if he doesn't get the power at all? Couldn't he just leave here as a regular person to live out the rest of his life?”
Niram considered me for a moment. For the smallest moment, he looked almost human. “It does not work that way. He sealed his fate by coming here.” He added, “This conversation is over. You must make your choice. Leave of your own accord and live. Or stay here and die here and now.”
“I can't leave.” I have never considered myself to be particularly brave, but the words sprang to my lips instantly. The anger helped, but I was still taken aback at how sure I sounded. “I'm staying.”
“I...regret your choice,” he looked strangely sad for an instant, but not at all surprised. He added, “I suggest you run.”
Behind me, as one, the horde of zombies reanimated and moved toward me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As the horde of zombies lumbered toward me, I had only a split second to react. Do you know that moment where time slows down and everything sort of hangs before you? Yeah, this was nothing like that. It was over in the blink of an eye. The first zombie lurched forward, rotting fingers grabbing for me.
I jerked backward and nearly tripped on something long and wooden poking out from beneath one of the marble benches. The shovel.
I picked it up as quickly as I could. The split second of action cost me. Dozens of zombies barreled toward me. I turned to run. More zombies in front of me. Dozens of pairs of dead eyes glaring at me with a cold hunger. Probably wondering how I'd taste with ketchup.
My eyes darted frantically, looking for an escape. Zombies were shambling closer from every direction. In moments, they'd be on me and there would be nowhere left to run.
I didn't hesitate. I chose the direction that contained the least amount of zombies, the path to my left. There were only three zombies, two males and a female. I barreled towards them and swung my shovel low, catching the female behind her knees.
I heard a sickening tearing noise as her lower leg was torn from her body.
She fell to the ground, landing on her back. Dead blood, black and thick, oozed from the stump just below her knee.
One of the other zombies, a younger-looking male who might have played varsity tackle when he was living, tripped over her in his eagerness to get to me. His chin hit the marble floor with an equally sickening noise. He spat black blood and teeth.
Something grabbed me from behind. I spun, raising my shovel. Reacting on instinct fueled by every zombie movie I'd ever watched, I struck him in the head with the blade of my shovel. The front of his skull collapsed in a mass of black gore.
He collapsed, falling to his knees, then onto his back. He didn't move.
My hands shook as I turned back to the two male zombies behind me.
The one in the back, who had obviously been an overweight middle-management type in life, was unsuccessfully attempting to step over his fallen comrades. The female was inching her way towards me and losing fingernails in the process.
“You can end all of this,” Nadim called over to me. “There's still time. In moments, they'll start ripping you apart.”
I didn't answer him, but I knew that he wasn't wrong. I could hear masses of them behind me; shuffling footsteps on smooth marble. If I couldn't get past the ones in front of me, they really were going to rip me apart. I've seen The Walking Dead. Not really how I want to die.
Then, ahead of me, I noticed something that made my blood run cold. More zombies had broken off from the horde behind me and were slowly moving around the circular fountain, towards the pathway ahead of me. They were going to cut off my escape. In a matter of moments, there would be nowhere left to run.
The female finally reached me — no mean feat, since she was also carrying the dead weight of the fallen varsity zombie, who couldn't seem to figure out how to climb back to his feet. The other zombie was trailing behind her, slipping in the blood that was oozing slowly but steadily from her leg. She was still losing fingernails in the process, leaving bloodied finger trails on the white marble floor of the fountain. Gore-streaked hands reached for me.
I side-stepped around her reach.
I brought my shovel up again and ran forward, aiming it at the the zombie behind her, holding it like a spear. My plan was to take him out, hopefully toppling both him and the other zombie behind him, who might have been a farmer in life, and then take off running. For a split second, I thought it was going to work.
Then I slipped on the female zombie's blood. My aim faltered. I missed.
Worse, I felt my legs slide out from beneath me. My arms careened wildly. For the second time, the shovel flew out of my grasp.
I hit the ground painfully, landing on my side. At the last second, I threw my arm out to protect my head. Pain cracked like a whip and I felt a sudden fire in my elbow. The blow knocked the breath out of me.
I drew in a ragged breath, fighting through agony, and tried to push myself up with my good arm. The arm I had landed on was encased in fire and something told me that moving it was not a good idea.
I managed to pull myself into a kneeling position, face to face with a rotting corpse. There was a single moment where nothing happened.
Then it reached for my face.
Instinctively, I jerked and fell backwards. I landed painfully on my back.
The female grabbed for my leg and I pulled away from her, but not far enough. I felt the rotted flesh of her fingers close around my calf. She wasn't close enough yet to sink her teeth into my flesh, but I could tell that's what she was going for.
There was a barest instant when I looked up and saw a ring of rotting faces surrounding me, coming closer. I could hear their footsteps shambling as more and more of them neared me. Dead hands tore at my clothing. I felt my shirt rip. In moments, I'd feel my skin tear the same way.
I was going to die.
For an instant, I suddenly wanted to yell out for it to stop. To promise that I'd leave and never return, if it meant I could somehow be spirited away from this horror, even if that meant that I had to give up on my brother. But the words froze in my throat; I couldn't betray him like that. Even now, when I was sure that I was going to die. Rationally, I knew that it didn't make any sense for both of us to die, but even with dead hands tearing at me, I couldn't make myself choke out the words.
And, as it turns out, I didn't need to speak at all.
Just as I sucked in a breath to let out the scream that was building up within me, the impossible happened.
Something brilliant white and moving faster than my eye could clearly make out moved across my field of vision, behind the ring of zombies that had formed around me. It was exactly like what I had seen earlier, when walking through the town. But I saw it much more clearly now. It was a sphere, perhaps the size of a grapefruit and lit up with a brilliant semi-translucent blue-white light.
Then it vanished from view.
Torn fingernails found purchase and sliced into the skin of my abdomen, driving the strange vision from my mind. Hot blood welled up in the wound.
I let out a cry of pain and struck out with my fists, but before they could connect, I felt rotted hands grab my arms and pin them down.
A woman's voice spoke, screaming that odd twisting guttural language Rory had used earlier. I couldn't make out what she said, but the effect was immediate. The zombies were suddenly thrown back from me as though a bomb
had gone off, with me at ground zero. Distantly, I heard violent wet thuds as their bodies connected with, presumably, the marble benches ringing the fountain, or perhaps with the fountain itself.
Seconds had passed, but all of the zombies had vanished from my field of view.
A small cry of relief escaped my lips.
Inch by inch, I forced myself to stand, cradling my injured arm with my other one. I could feel the flesh of my stomach stinging with hot blood. From somewhere behind me, I heard more guttural cries.
Everywhere I looked, zombies had been thrown back with extreme force, colliding with whatever happened to be in their path. Black gore coated white marble in a nightmarish scene. Many of the bodies had stopped moving, but a few still did. They were inching back towards me.
And then, stunned, I watched as the zombies began to burn with sudden blue flames. There was no point of origin, the way there is for normal fire. The flames were just suddenly there, engulfing them totally and instantly. Every single zombie around me lit up at the same time with the same ghostly blue fire.
It looked so strange and unnatural that I wondered for a brief moment if the flames were even hot. Then, within seconds, the bodies around me burned away to ash. Not even the skeletons remained. Evidently, it was very hot.
In less than a minute, every single zombie had been destroyed.
I turned to Niram, who was still standing at the entrance to the fountain, his black eyes furious and fixed on something just behind me.
“You!” He hissed.
“Quite right,” A woman's voice said behind me, a trace of British accent. “I'm afraid you're done here, demon.”
I whirled in the direction of my savior.
A petite young woman, perhaps a year or two older than me, was standing ten feet away and slightly uphill. Whereas everything else in the underworld was painted in shades of gray, she was vibrant and colorful. She was wearing a long scarlet skirt that fell to her ankles, heeled black leather boots, a thick black belt that was fastened with large brass buckle, and a long-sleeved white blouse buttoned up to the neck. Her face was strong and elegant, with refined features. The expression she wore was severe and no-nonsense, but somehow also still lovely and feminine in a way I was sure I'd never been. She had pale skin and the barest splash of freckles across her nose. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight bun, but small ringlets had escaped. She was glaring at Niram with hard look in her blue eyes that radiated malice, even in the darkness.
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