The Stone Demon

by Karen Mahoney

  Donna felt like she had stepped from one film set to another. It was strange and disconcerting, but she could hardly say she was surprised.

  Navin was waiting for her by the staircase. He looked sad, but as soon as he saw her he seemed brighter.

  “Nav?” She couldn’t help herself. She had to check that it was still him. “You’re okay?”

  “Sure, don’t worry. Newton’s really gone.” He glanced down at her hand. “You got the fruit?”

  “Right here.”

  She opened her palm and showed him the shining silver pear. Its skin shimmered beneath the spotlights that lined the walls of the escalator. It looked like one of those kitschy ornaments that people collect and keep in fruit bowls. She shoved it into her messenger back with the other artifacts, cringing as everything rattled together.

  She looked at the grove one last time. Then she stood on tiptoe and scanned the surrounding roads. No sign of Demian. Were they really getting out of here? It seemed too easy. That always made her nervous.

  It was quiet. Nothing stirred except her tattoos, shimmering along her arms and making her hands ache.

  “What are we waiting for? We’ve got everything,” Navin said, nodding at the escalator. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “You should go first,” she replied. “Just in case.”

  He smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “In case you need to protect me, you mean? We’re home free.”

  “Navin … ”

  His voice sounded strangely hollow. “I don’t want you to have to rescue me again. They can’t keep using me against you.”

  Donna remembered the Wood Queen’s bone blade against Navin’s throat—back in the Ironwood, what seemed a lifetime ago. Her fingers clenched. “They don’t care about what we want.”

  He swept her a clumsy bow. “Ladies first. I insist.”

  A tiny thread of worry slithered into her stomach, but Donna did as he asked. Surely it would be okay. What could be worse than Hell, right?

  Her sneakered foot hit the bottom stair of the escalator and she began to ascend. She watched as Navin stepped on behind her. He was two stairs below her, and they looked into one another’s eyes as they moved up, up, beyond the bright lights and into the dark unknown.

  And then the escalator stopped moving, and Donna knew things weren’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped after all. She should have trusted her gut. Not that there had been anything she could actually do. Not when she hadn’t even known what was wrong in the first place.

  Navin met her troubled eyes. “Uh-oh,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed, looking below them and seeing how far they’d already traveled. They were high—impossibly high—and the escalator only went one way.

  Well then, she thought. We can just walk.

  “Come on,” she said. “How far can it be … ”

  “Probably very, very far,” Nav muttered. But he began to climb with her and they seemed to make progress, for a while.

  The stairs made an ominous grinding sound, and then reversed direction. Sending them back down into the Other­world. Fast.

  “Shit!” Navin yelled, gripping the moving rail for balance as they plummeted downward.

  Donna stumbled and sat down on a step. She didn’t want to chance being thrown off entirely. Not that she figured much could really happen to you, once you were already sort-of dead.

  Then the stairs stopped moving—and they were stuck again. The ground looked no closer than before, which of course made no sense at all.

  Navin sat down beside her. He touched the back of her hand, and her tattoos swirled in response to his fingers.

  “I think I know what might be wrong,” he said. He looked away from her.

  “What?” Donna’s stomach hurt.

  “It’s something Newton said just after he left my body. I didn’t want to think about it, not when I was just so grateful to be back to myself again, you know? I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Donna grabbed his hand, wincing apologetically when she realized she was almost crushing him. “What did he say? You know you can’t trust him, right?”

  He shook his head sadly. “I know. But even though I don’t trust him, I do believe him. On this one thing, I think I have to.”

  She wanted to shake him. “Spit it out, then!”

  A grim smile touched his mouth. “As usual, Underwood, you’ve hit the proverbial nail on the head.”

  She just glared at him.

  “‘Spit it out.’ That’s just it. That’s the problem—I didn’t. You know … ” He raised an eyebrow. “Spit.”

  Donna wished she could make some kind of crude joke so that they could move on to figuring out how to get the escalator moving again. But the expression on his face was too serious. It wasn’t like Navin at all, and it scared her.

  “The water, Don. In the River of Memory and Forgetting. I swallowed a whole bunch of it when I jumped in after you.”

  No, no, no.

  “No,” Donna said. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. They were supposed to get out of here—together—and move on to the final stage of the plan. She had to make the Philosopher’s Stone and she needed Navin with her. She couldn’t do this without him.

  She couldn’t lose him, not again. This time it might be forever.

  He shook his head, placed his fingers on her lips. “Don’t,” he said. “I knew it when it happened. He warned me. I just hoped … ” He shrugged, unable to continue.

  “You just hoped it wasn’t true,” she finished.

  “Yeah. And when I got on the escalator and we started moving, I really allowed myself to think that I’d gotten away with it.”

  Horror dawned on Donna, filling her heart with ink-stained fear. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll—”

  “No.” Navin shook his head. He had visibly paled, but he seemed composed enough. “You have to take the ingredients out of here. You don’t need me for that.”

  “But I do,” she whispered, eyes burning.

  They held hands for a long moment, and Donna counted the beats of her heart.

  And then something else happened. Navin’s stair started moving down while hers resumed its ascent. They were moving in opposite directions—on the same freaking escalator—and there was nothing either of them could do about it. She felt nauseated trying to make her brain process what was happening, the sheer impossibility of it.

  “No!” Donna screamed, trying to run back down against the upward drive of the mechanism. But no matter how fast she moved, Navin continued to slip further and further away.

  “I love you, Donna!” he called. “Take good care of yourself.”

  His final words were for her. He was so selfless, and this wasn’t fair.

  Donna glanced up, feeling desperate, and realized that she was approaching what could only be the top of the escalator. A summit that hadn’t even existed until now. More demon tricks.

  She clenched her fist and punched the moving handrail with every bit of the strength in her iron hands. She rarely cut loose like that, not completely. It was too dangerous.

  The results should have been staggering. But her fist bounced off the rubber and metal and all she got for her effort was an agonizing shooting pain through her knuckles.

  She screamed with frustration, then took a deep breath. Preparing herself. She gripped the silver rail and tried to stop the escalator’s inexorable progress. She threw a wild glance over her shoulder, trying to catch sight of Nav, but he was nothing more than a pinprick at the very bottom.

  Donna breathed deep and pulled.

  The metal gave way with a rending, shrieking sound. She managed to tear the entire section of rail off its moorings—

  But it was hopeless.
The stairs were still moving, closer and closer to the top.

  Then the escalator stopped. Her eyes widened. It had stopped ! She could run down again, back to Navin.

  Donna flew down the stairs, wondering how long it

  would take her to reach the bottom. She already felt ex-hausted, but she didn’t care. Not many people would consider entering the Otherworld by choice, even once. But to do so twice? Probably she was crazy, which was fine by her. She was sure she’d go even more crazy knowing that Navin was stuck down there while she went about her business in the world above without him.

  Her chest burned and her knees ached, but she kept going.

  Until the stairs suddenly sprang into life once more, and they slid upwards faster than ever, taking her with them.

  “Shit!” She kicked the side of the stairway. It didn’t make her feel any better.

  She sat down in despair and waited for the escalator to dump her at the top. She wasn’t getting down; she knew that now. Navin wasn’t getting out. He’d drunk water from the river and this was the price.

  Opening her bag, Donna gazed at all the pieces of the puzzle. The Ouroboros Blade, something that had possibly already served its purpose by getting her here. The Cup of Hermes, the glittering demon tear, and now the shining pear, fruit of the Gallows Tree—all these things had brought her to this place. She squeezed her hands together. Was it worth it? Could creating the Philosopher’s Stone be worth Navin’s life?

  Donna already knew the answer to that.

  Biting back a sob, she jumped off at the top and ran out into cold darkness.

  Twenty-five

  Donna found herself running straight into the heart of the Ironwood. Of course—where else would an escalator from Hell drop her off? Somehow, everything came back to this place. It always did. It was night, and she wondered how long she had until dawn. She hoped she was in time.

  The trees that circled the clearing began to bend in a wind that was gathering around her, a portent that didn’t do her nerves any good. She stood in the center of it all and clutched the bag full of hope to her chest. What if she couldn’t do this? She didn’t know what came next. Okay, in theory she did, because she’d “read” the Silent Book and committed each diagram to memory—each stage in the creation of the Philosopher’s Stone. But knowing it and doing it were two very different things.

  Donna looked at the frosty ground and imagined Navin somewhere far below. She refused to let the tears fall. She’d find him again. Somehow.

  “Donna,” came a voice from between the trees. An old friend wheeled himself into the clearing.

  “Maker! What are you doing here by yourself?” Donna ran to him, relief and joy surging through her.

  He smiled through his beard and waved his hand to quiet her. “No time, no time. The others are coming. You need to make the Stone before Demian follows you. I knew you’d do it, Donna.”

  Maker stayed close beside her as she laid out the ingredients. Then he handed her a small vial of salt, indicating that she should cast a protective circle around them. She hoped Maker would help with this part—with his power supporting hers, the barrier she created would be far more likely to delay anyone who might try to interfere with their work. But Maker shook his head.

  “No, it must be your power, and yours alone. The first matter you draw upon will hopefully be enough to hold off a demon—even one as powerful as Demian.”

  Donna didn’t question him, just cast the circle and set to work crushing the fruit and the glittering tear into the Cup of Hermes. She used the hilt of the blade to help with the process, wondering if it was what she was supposed to do; that part hadn’t been clear in the instructions, but it felt right. So she went with it, following her intuition and listening to the thread of power inside her like she’d been taught. Like Quentin and Maker had said to do.

  Maker’s eyes filled with pride as he watched her, nodding approval and pointing out things here and there that she’d forgotten.

  Donna began to believe she might actually do this. That there was hope, and she could make something as impossible as this final bargaining chip to use against the demons. Against—

  Demian materialized directly in front of them, on the outside of the circle of salt. His pale face was drawn into tight lines and his mouth was hard, his skin practically glowing in the darkness. He pressed his hand against the invisible barrier surrounding them.

  Sparks flew, and there was the sound of lightning.

  Donna glared at him. “I’m busy, go away.”

  “The Stone is mine.”

  “Give me a chance, I haven’t finished yet,” she said, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She turned away and bent over the Cup of Hermes, reestablishing her connection to the prima materia within her. Maker watched the king of the demons, his wrinkled hands clutching the arms of his chair.

  The first matter throbbed in her chest, beating in time with her heart. Donna focused on shaping reality, on making something that didn’t exist. She tapped into the power of creation and held her breath. Everything around her seemed to fade … Maker, trying to keep an eye on her and Demian at the same time, and the suspicious Demon King, waiting with his hands gripped tightly into fists.

  She looked upward, into the sky, seeing the edges of the trees that vaulted above everything. Then she drank.

  Darkness rushed into her, filled her, and then came light. Bright white light that cut her in half and made her scream. Her arms felt as though they might shatter, and her heart wanted to do the same. Wind stormed and howled like its own kind of demonic force, blasting back her hair, making her face hurt and her eyes stream. The trees tilted at strange angles and she heard the crack of branches.

  Then the whole world went silent, and she realized she was lying on the ground.

  Beside her, inside the circle, there it was. The Stone.

  The Philosopher’s Stone. She got to her knees and touched it, reverently, forgetting everything around her, just for a moment reveling in the feel of smooth stone beneath her fingers, the pulse of heat she could feel slowly spreading from its center. It was a warm shade of reddish-brown, and egg-shaped—it fitted perfectly in her palm. As though it were made for her. For her and nobody else.

  Maker’s eyes shone as he sat beside her.

  Demian tried to cross the barrier, fury pouring off him in almost palpable waves. He hammered against the air with his fists, but Donna’s circle held.

  “Come out, alchemist,” he screamed. “Come and out and face me!”

  Donna’s head jerked up. “You can huff and puff all you like, Your Majesty,” she replied. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay right here.”

  “You can’t stay in there forever, Donna,” Demian said. “Nor you, old man.”

  Maker smiled a determined sort of smile. He wheeled his chair out of the circle. “I don’t intend to, demon.”

  “No!” Donna ran to follow him, but stopped herself just in time as she reached the barrier.

  Demian’s coal-black eyes seemed to glow as he grabbed the ageing alchemist by the throat and lifted him, one-handed, from his chair.

  “Open the circle,” he demanded, his voice like thunder.

  Maker was choking, his face growing red, but his eyes held triumph. “I can’t. The circle is hers. How else do you think I could leave it without it breaking?”

  “Let him go,” Donna said, her voice quivering. Terror made it difficult to speak. She had the Philosopher’s Stone, but what good was that doing now?

  Maker turned his head toward her. “Use the Stone, Donna. Use it to—”

  “Quiet, little man!” Demian roared, tossing the alchemist away like he was nothing but an oversized ragdoll. Maker bounced against a tree, and there was a sickening noise as he fell to the ground and lay still.

  Donna screamed, facing the Demon King across the barrier
.

  Demian placed both palms against the transparent wall formed by her circle. His hands exploded with black light, the strength of it making her shield her eyes. Everything turned into a sort of photo-negative … Demian was using his power to tear down her protective wards.

  “Give me the Stone!” he bellowed.

  “Never!” Donna shouted. Had he really thought that she’d just hand it over? Demian, Aliette—they were all the same. Blinded by their greed, their wants, so much so that they couldn’t figure out that Donna Underwood wasn’t about to follow their orders quite so easily. She’d learned a few things while training to be an alchemist, after all—and maybe the Stone was her greatest weapon. Why give it up now?

  She licked her lips, wondering if it would work. Wondering if the demon’s desire for the Stone would be enough to distract him for a few moments more. Now was the time to find out.

  She took a step back, exiting out of the other side of the circle so that the wide ring of salt stood between them. Then she held the Philosopher’s Stone up toward Demian as bait. His eyes widened in desire, and then in triumph, as he gazed at the prize. Eagerly, he stepped toward her—and into the circle.

  The moment he did that, Donna crouched down, still clutching the Stone, and touched a small section of the salt. Her tattoos were moving so violently she thought she might throw up, but she managed to hold everything together as she remembered Robert Lee, surrounded by shadows, in this place in another time. She shouted, “Lux !”

  White light poured upward from the salt circle, forming a whirling barrier around the Demon King. A king who was now trapped inside a solid ring of first matter energy. Donna wondered if it would be enough to hold him, at least temporarily.

  Demian roared his fury. “What did you do to me?”

  “Restrained you, Your Majesty,” Donna replied, staggering to her feet but barely able to stay upright. “I think you’ll find yourself unable to act quite so much like a petulant god now, running around destroying anything that makes you mad. Maybe you’ll have to fight fair. I wonder how long it’s been since you’ve actually had to do that?”