by Sarah Kuhn
“Stop it!” I screamed.
I harnessed the stew of emotions bubbling inside of me and flipped my palm all the way over. My fireball ignited, brilliant and bright. I gritted my teeth through the force-field pain and flicked my wrist, sending the fire flying in Shasta’s direction.
I expected to see fear register on her face, but she just smiled. And then she snapped her fingers again.
It all happened in an instant. The bubble-like prison of the force field melted away and suddenly we were back among the crowd, the noise of the busy street crashing into me.
Shasta darted out of the way and my fire flew past her, smashing into Pussy Queen’s new sign.
I heard screams, saw people flailing away from the flames. I felt terror rise up inside me, that same all-consuming terror I’d felt at the library so long ago. Back then, I’d been rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stare as the fear overtook me.
This time I channeled the fear, used it to push myself to my feet. I looked around frantically for Nate or Aveda or Lucy. My gaze finally landed on a fire hydrant. I dove through the crowd and smashed my still-hot hand against it. The valve melted and the water sluiced out, sending a powerful spray at the flames.
The fire died, but the crowd was still frantic, pushing and shoving as smoke and ash drifted through the air. Smoke clouded my lungs, making me dizzy. As my vision swam and I felt myself listing to the side, I spotted Shasta hauling an unconscious Aveda into her shop.
“Not to worry, everyone!” she called out. “Aveda was just experimenting with her fire power. And now she needs a nap.”
With that, she slammed the door behind them.
And I passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I WOKE UP in my bed, pillows surrounding me like a fort. For one elated moment, I deluded myself into thinking it was all a dream and the entire household was about to barge in and bury me in their various problems and neuroses and demands. And everything was going to be fine.
And then a barrage of images from the last few hours crashed into me and I knew nothing would be fine ever again.
Shasta kidnapping Aveda.
Tommy Lemon disintegrating on the spot.
And Nate . . .
What was he?
I shook off my grogginess. I needed answers.
I pushed myself out of bed and marched down the hall to Nate’s room. I flung open the door without knocking. He was standing next to his bed, his back to me.
“Go downstairs,” he said, without turning around. His voice was low and steady, devoid of inflection. “You and Lucy lost consciousness at different points during the confrontation. I called Scott and we got you back here and you both appear to be fine. Everyone else is down in the kitchen, trying to come up with a game plan to recover Aveda.”
“And you’re . . . what? Brooding?” I put my hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn. His eyes were cold and expressionless, and he looked at me like I was a specimen he was studying from afar. I noticed a satchel on the bed. It appeared to be stuffed full of black clothes.
“No,” he said. “I’m leaving.”
My grip on his shoulder tightened. “You’re leaving now? When Aveda’s missing and we’re right in the middle of a city-shattering crisis and you owe me about fourteen kazillion explanations? I don’t think so.”
He frowned. “You should want me to go. My presence here puts you in danger.” His tone was so flat and clinical and reasonable, it made me want to scream. Where was the man who had surprised me with his passion, his depth of feeling?
Or was he a man at all?
I released him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Tell me,” I said. “I will surround you with a fucking wall of fire before I let you leave here without at least telling me what you are and why you lied about it. On a scale of wannabe demon queen to minion, where do you fall? Make me a spreadsheet so I really get the picture.”
His gaze remained steady. “I’m mostly human.”
I glared at him. “Keep going.”
He hesitated and seemed to be on the verge of pushing past me and walking out. Instead he let out a long breath and started talking.
“Like Mother said, she came here years ago.” His voice was still flat. “Her portal-opening spells were experimental and unorthodox, but the demon elders approved of her ambition, and were hopeful she’d be successful in expanding their empire.”
His words were so precise, so carefully chosen. As if he’d memorized a passage from a particularly dull history book and was spitting it back out with no real connection to what he was saying. I resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders again and shake him. He had to be feeling something underneath that stoic façade.
“Before she opened the big portal—the one from eight years ago—she was able to maintain sporadic contact with the Otherworld from Earth,” he continued. “Once she’d determined your realm was suitable for invasion, she began devising a plan to open a permanent conduit between the two worlds. And one of her first experiments . . .” He paused and his eyes drifted to the floor. “ . . . was me.”
“Like she . . . bred?” I couldn’t help but shudder. The idea of Shasta breeding with anyone, human or not, wasn’t something I wanted to think about.
“Yes. She enspelled a human man, then sent him away once she got pregnant,” Nate continued. He met my eyes and I saw a flash of uncertainty. It disappeared quickly as he resorted back to that infuriatingly calm tone. “The elders told her that if she had a child with one foot in the human world, she’d be able to add its demon powers to hers, thereby strengthening her enough to successfully open that permanent portal.”
“Seriously, ‘thereby’?” I spat out, my anger bubbling over. “Can you cut it with the lecture speak and talk to me like a normal . . .”
“Human?” he retorted. That hint of uncertainty flashed through his eyes again. “I believe we’ve established that is not what I am. But my demon side didn’t assert itself like Mother expected it to. I was born—”
“Mostly human,” I finished. I swallowed hard, trying to tamp down on my rage. “So what does that mean?”
“It means I have a small amount of demon DNA. I’ve done tests on myself. Strangely it was my human side that asserted itself.”
“And do you have a special demon superpower?” Now my voice was starting to take on the same calm, clinical cadence as his. I didn’t know what else to do, how else to keep from lashing out at him completely. Maybe if I had all the puzzle pieces, I could put them together in a way that would show me how to kick Shasta’s ass. And maybe then I’d be able to figure out how to shock Nate out of Cold Scientist Robot mode and make him help me with that. I tried to latch onto that sense of purpose.
Just get the facts. Then remind him that this isn’t who he is. You know this isn’t who he is.
“A very minor one,” he said. “It’s an enhanced observational ability: I see things in more detail than the average person. It helps with my work, but nothing beyond that. It’s nothing like Mother’s.”
“Back up.” I held up a hand. “What is Shasta’s power, exactly?”
“She can access certain types of Otherworld magic, like Scott. This actually gives her a number of different abilities, among them the power to perform the portal-opening spells in the first place and the power to change her appearance at will. That’s why I didn’t recognize her—the last time I saw her, she was a wrinkled crone.”
“And do all humanoid demons have a bunch of powers or is Shasta just really freakin’ special?”
“From what I know, yes, they all have multiple powers,” he said. “Though magic-based powers are especially prized. That’s what makes her royalty.”
I worked that bit of information out in my head. I was amassing Fun Demon Factoids like Pokemon. The key to saving Aveda—and the whole damn city—had to be in there
somewhere. “So when the powers were distributed to humans from the demons who came through the first portal—”
“The multiple powers from each demon were split up among humans,” he confirmed.
“Only one per customer,” I murmured.
“And when split up, not terribly impressive. Except for yours.”
I shook my head. Out of all the powers, I got the good one? That seemed wrong on so many levels. “Lucky me. So did she still try to add your power to hers? How does that work?”
“She has to make physical contact with me and form a magical bond between us. In theory my power then gives hers a boost. Like I’m . . .”
“A battery?” I filled in. I felt ridiculous, like we were calmly completing some kind of Demon Mad Libs form. I balled my fists at my sides and once again, shoved down the urge to scream at him.
“Sort of. And yes, she did try. When I was a child, she tried to use magic to alter me, to enhance my demon side. She used . . . a particularly painful spell. She tried it over and over and over again and each time it was worse. She tried it for ten years.” As his story got more horrific, his voice got more dispassionate. “That’s what gave me the scars on my shoulder.”
My throat tightened. I was still angry and I was holding onto my fact-gathering sense of purpose with all my might, but the image of him as a helpless child forced to endure unspeakable pain brought tears to my eyes.
“How did you escape?”
“She’d mostly given up on me by the time I was eleven. She kept ranting at me about how humans were so weak, so useless. But she turned her invasion plans elsewhere,” he said. “When I was eighteen, she thought she’d figured out how to open the big portal without adding to her strength. Which, as we now know, was incorrect since that portal was unsuccessful. When it snapped closed, it took so much out of her that she passed out for three whole days. I walked out the door and never went back. I gave myself a generic name, made a human life, and went to medical school.”
“You turned to science,” I murmured. “Trying to make meaning out of all this demon crazy.”
“Something like that.”
I shifted from foot to foot. My brain was like a KitchenAid mixer that had been packed with a mishmash of incomprehensible info and turned on high. How could I even begin to make sense of it all?
“So from what Shasta said today, this new demon-human hybrid thing is going to strengthen her enough to finally open that permanent portal.”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Imagine, if my demon side had asserted itself more fully and her spell had worked on me all those years ago, she might’ve been able to accomplish her goals much sooner.”
“You wanted to work for Aveda because it would help you track all the supernatural goings-on in the city, maybe let you know what Shasta was up to,” I guessed. “But you never went out in the field, never appeared in public, never even allowed yourself to be photographed, because you were worried she’d find you.”
He gave me a curt nod. “And over the years, I allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Because the demon threat had become so benign and Aveda always took care of it. And frankly, I’d always harbored the hope that Mother hadn’t been merely unconscious when I walked away; that maybe she’d died. That those smaller portals were the work of someone else. Like you, I tricked myself into thinking I could be a normal human. And then I actually went out on a mission and that’s where she saw me.”
“The benefit,” I said, remembering how Shasta mentioned reconnecting with him. “The one you escorted me to.”
“Yes. I agreed to go to that damn benefit because . . .” He trailed off, trying to maintain control. But I saw emotion flaring in his eyes.
Now was my chance. I had to make him fight with me, yell at me. I had to make him show me he was still the person I thought I’d gotten to know so intimately.
“Because of what?” I challenged.
“Because of you,” he spat out. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you in danger. Because growing up the way I did, I never knew what it meant to feel alive. I always assumed I’d spend my entire life not knowing. And then I met you . . .”
I grabbed his hand. “So don’t go.”
He was already shaking his head. “I have to.” He schooled his features back into a look of detachment. “And you’re wasting precious time arguing with me.” He freed his hand from mine and turned back to his satchel. “When we started to piece together this new demon threat, I didn’t think it was her. After failing so thoroughly to make me into the son she wanted, she swore she’d never again attempt a plan involving ‘weakling humans.’ I embraced the theory that she’d died, that this was something else. When Maisy showed so much . . . interest in me, that seemed to settle it. Not even Mother is that twisted.”
He zipped up his satchel and turned to me. “You heard her, Evie: she wants me for her one of her minions. She may have a new and improved version of demon-human ‘children,’ but she won’t be able to resist the idea of making her first failed project into a success. If I leave now and get far away from here, she won’t be able to complete her plan and maybe you’ll be safe. All of you. Think of Bea.” His tone wasn’t pleading or anxious. It was, once again, cold and logical. It enraged me. And I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Don’t you dare use her against me,” I hissed. Heat was zinging into my palm like an overactive Fourth of July sparkler.
Not now, I snarled at the fire.
I put a hand on his chest and locked my eyes with his, determined to reach him. “You believed in me when no one else did. You always thought I could be a real hero. And now I believe in you. I know you’re braver than this. I know you don’t want to run away. I know you’re suppressing every single emotion you have because you think it somehow makes you stronger. And I also know that is the biggest crock of tortured hero bullshit ever invented. I know because I fucking invented that.” My fist closed around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His eyes were still devoid of emotion. “Stay. Fight with us. Fight with me.”
He paused for a very long moment. Then he shook me off.
“Good-bye,” he said softly. And he slung the satchel over his shoulder and left.
I stood there for a moment, wondering if there was any way I could set something very small on fire in order to release the anger churning through me.
I settled for letting out a strangled scream of frustration.
Then I squared my shoulders and marched downstairs. Moping, crying, sulking: none of these things even entered my brain space.
Because even though my heart was breaking, I still had a city to save.
As I got closer to the kitchen, I heard yelling.
“Just concentrate on this right now, love. I’m sure she didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, I’m sure she did.”
I walked into the kitchen to find Lucy and Bea in the midst of what appeared to be an ill-timed stand-off. Scott was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.
“Guys—” I started.
“How could you?” hissed Bea, zeroing in on me. Her face was white with rage and her fury hung in the air like a physical thing, forcing me to take a step back.
I held up my hands, attempting to placate her. “Whatever you’re upset about, it’s not a good time.”
“You threw away my plane ticket. My plane ticket to Dad.”
Dammit. How had she found out about that? I’d taken the stupid trash out myself.
“Let’s talk about this later,” I said, keeping my tone as firm as possible. “It’s not as important as—”
“You didn’t even mention it to me.”
“Because I knew it would end badly,” I said, my frustration boiling over. “You know how he is, Bea.”
“He sent me an email asking if I was coming,” she said, p
ointing an accusatory finger at her laptop, which was sitting on the kitchen table. “And he said—”
“Why would you trust anything he says? The man abandoned us.”
“Why should I trust anything you say?” she countered. “Since you covered up the fact that he asked us to come to him.”
“Beatrice. Seriously. Can you please just—”
“No. I won’t ‘just’ anything.” She advanced on me again, hands balled at her sides, eyes flashing with rage. I recoiled. I felt like that rage was piercing me in the heart. “I’ve listened and I’ve worked hard and I’ve followed you around like a stupid little puppy dog and you lied to me about the most important thing.”
She pushed past me. “I’m done!” she screamed over her shoulder, her stompy feet echoing through the hall.
“Lucy,” I murmured. “Scott. She’s not going to talk to me. Can one of you . . . ?”
“I’ll go,” Scott said, rising to his feet. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. “Evie. You have to get her back.”
I knew he didn’t mean Bea. I squeezed his arm. “I will.”
As he left, I sat down at the kitchen table, studying Bea’s computer. I took a deep breath and tried to channel all my feelings about Bea and Nate and everything else toward my ultimate goal: Beat Shasta. Save the city.
I saw that Bea had started a document that was helpfully labeled “SHASTA = BAD GUY :( FACTS AND TRIVIA!”
“She hadn’t gotten very far when that email from your dad arrived,” Lucy said, sitting down next to me. “Where did Nate go? He told us he was going to his lab to do some research, and then he just disappeared.” I didn’t respond. I realized she’d been passed out when the revelation of Nate’s heritage had come up. And Scott and Bea hadn’t even been there. Aveda and I were the only ones who knew.
I zeroed in on the single note in Bea’s document: the URL for Maisy’s blog. I clicked on it.
As far as I knew, Maisy’s blog had been dormant since the karaoke contest. But as it loaded, I noted it had gone through a significant change. Now it was called . . .