“You feel it, Kalos.” A satisfied smile spread across her ruby lips, smoldering passion emanating from her perfect form. “Just as he did.”
“I did.”
“You will lead me to the witch. The one whose magic interfered with my own.”
“Yes, I will.” A drunkenness swum in my tired brain as I gazed into her cold eyes. “Defying you was a mistake.”
“A clever trick, mortal.” Her smile turned to one of disdain, and I felt the spell’s grip loosen slightly. “But you played your hand too soon.”
Consequences. Delphine’s warning flashed in my brain. Another, from long before—when I had wanted to kill Marrack—echoed in my ears. A warning about killing a demon. You often lose too much in the process.
I blinked, the haze parting. Which is when I saw the answers, clear as anything.
Isabella had killed Marrack. Consumed his essence. First she had recovered, building a base of power. But then, out in the desert bunker, the allure of the Journal’s power was too great.
And she desired the promise of power laid out in the Journal’s pages for herself alone. I remembered the contractor’s throwaway response to my question regarding where she’d gone.
She had something to take care of.
Now that was an understatement. Not that the hired help knew what she had planned. Not even Marrack could have seen that one coming.
If he had, she’d have been the one dead.
His only weakness had been loving her.
Much like mine had been.
I considered all the props and theatre. The cane. The weak magical gusts in the bottom of the Sol Council’s HQ, her power dampened by magic. All a game, playing a role for the benefit of anyone watching.
Continuing the ruse, even as Marrack was long dead, sending her minions out to search for vessel candidates. Defraying any internal suspicion and distracting anyone looking in from the outside.
The oldest trick anyone had pulled.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing. I should have realized it in the desert. Her movements had been too quick for someone so damaged.
But even wolves had a weakness.
And hers was pure arrogance. Because she thought I could now be controlled as easily as the others, being mortal. That I would be her pet. Be available for her eternal amusement, forever humiliated in my life of servitude.
But she had miscalculated, in that I had already broken one promise to her in 979 A.D. And with my demonic blood gone, my code was now simply a byproduct of a forgotten time.
That, and one other thing. Her own Destroyer of Former Lovers spell had unbound our essence, so that the ties between us were weak.
Weak enough to ignore.
Underestimating your enemies can be deadly.
“How’d you do it?” I asked, staring her right in the eye without fear.
“How did I do what, Kalos?”
“Kill him.”
She looked startled for a moment, then said, “With Woden’s Spear. Right after I left you in the desert.”
“Power was your true love, huh?”
“Oh, but Kalos,” she whispered, an inhuman smile taking over her face. “You could never understand power like this.”
“Of course.” I nodded toward her bloodied arm. “How close are you?”
“So very close, Kalos.” Her eyes looked almost haunted, totally consumed by her quest to become a goddess. “Only a little more.”
Which is when I knew.
“I’m sorry.”
Her posture stiffened, and she looked at me. “Don’t say that.”
So I didn’t say anything.
I just pulled the trigger as my heart wrenched inside.
62
“How does one slay a god?” The alchemist was barely visible through the swirling smoke inside her tent. Outside, I could hear Argos dutifully running after a tennis ball, Nadia shouting encouragement at him.
I couldn’t tell whether the dog was being a good sport for her benefit, or using “her recovery” as an excuse to do all the doggie shit he secretly wanted to do.
My thoughts snapped back to the alchemist. “I don’t know.”
“See,” she said, nodding sagely as she worked. “It is through uncertainty that you emerge victorious.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that.”
“Your lover only invited you to her quarters because of certainty. It was her certainty that you would never harm her, and your uncertainty about how you still felt that led you to those glass walls and her to this fate.”
“Lover is a little strong,” I said, staring at the bubbling pot. “I didn’t tell you the penthouse was glass.”
“No matter.” The alchemist snorted, like the details didn’t matter. “I am ready for another.”
I grabbed Woden’s Spear from the dusty ground. The shortened spear gleamed dully, its sharp tip marred by Marrack’s dried blood. If I had one regret, it was not killing him myself. Preferably with a snappy one-liner—like told you I’d get my spear back, you bitch.
It probably would sound better with a little adrenaline, in the moment.
But a clarity about the events had settled in. It had come from Ruby, who had disappeared with Pearl as soon as we’d reached the unfinished development, spurred forever onward in her nomadic journey. About how vengeance blinds you, makes it difficult to see what’s right before you.
Before she’d left, I’d given her the Realmpiece. As a reminder of Galleron, to guide her when baser urges whispered in her ears.
I knew something about blindness.
It had always been Isabella. Marrack may have been the first domino, but the witch had shaped me. Our experiences together had been responsible for every decision over the past three thousand years. Good or bad.
As Gunnar and Argos had always said, Isabella will be the death of us all.
It had never been Marrack. But then, demons lacked the vision for such things. Maybe it took a mortal to sort everything out.
A hand shook me, and I realized I’d dozed off. The alchemist wore a kind smile, the tent clear and smokeless.
“It has finished.”
“You mean…”
“Yes, I have melted down the witch,” she said. “I assumed it was better for your conscience not to drop her fingers into the pot.”
“Small favors,” I said with a forced smile, getting up to leave.
“And the artifacts?”
“Transmuted as well.” She handed me a lighter. “For the book.”
“Until next time, then.”
“I believe our work together is done. I have heard your love story,” the alchemist said with a nod as she packed her things. “And it has reached its conclusion.” She glanced back, her blind eyes looking right through me. “Besides, what will a mortal do with so much essence?”
“You could hurt my feelings, talking like that.”
“I find that hard to believe, Kalos Aeon.”
I exited the tent and headed for the convertible. Argos lay sprawled out next to dozens of essence jugs. There were so many that I wasn’t sure they’d fit in the trunk.
I shared a glance with Nadia. “You ready for this?”
“I don’t know.”
“The world needs to be brought together.”
“It’s a lot to drink.” Her full lips wrinkled in disgust.
“Better than the alternative.” I reached into the trunk and took out the the Journal of Annihilation. In a way, this was the last remaining link to Isabella Kronos I had.
All five artifacts were melted down for their essence.
We’d smashed the essence gauge.
And her body had been transmuted as well.
I flicked the chrome top from the lighter and brought it to the edge of the crackling leather tome. Fire t
ore across the dry pages.
We were going to do this goddess and destiny thing a different way.
“What if we can’t make it?” Nadia asked, watching as embers flicked off in the wind.
“We’ll get there,” I said. We loaded the car in silence and climbed in as the leather crackled and warped on the ground. “Anybody got a preference about destination?”
“Anywhere but Texas,” Argos said.
“Objections?”
Nadia turned and smiled. “Whatever you choose.”
My hand drifted away from the GPS and I floored the accelerator. At least for a little while, I’d had enough of destinies and missions.
For once, it was time to just drive and embrace the unknown. I glanced at my passengers, but they were already sound asleep.
Then I pulled out of the desert, leaving the smoldering book and the remnants of the past behind in the red dust without looking back.
Epilogue
Boise Internment Camp, January 2031
“You’re sure this works?” I looked at the dirty plastic water bottle, filled with a suspect-looking liquid. Feeling like a teenager breaking into his parents’ liquor cabinet, I brought the foul potion to my lips.
“You’re sure Scott’s intel is good?” Argos cocked his head, watching my reaction as I drank.
“No.” He’d contacted me out of the blue after almost fourteen years. But he had no reason to lie.
Unless he was still sore about Roderick.
“Maybe you should put a little more faith in your friends, and a little less in assholes.”
“I’m just saying it’s nasty.”
“It was blessed by a goddess.”
“More like an eighth of a goddess.” Turns out destiny moves on its own schedule. A slow one.
Argos burrowed into the snow as patrol lights swept over our position. I stood stock still, waiting for the camp’s warning siren to go off. This would be a good catch for the guys here. Kalos Aeon, still number one on the most wanted list.
Once they found out I was a human, excitement would probably drop considerably.
The light passed, and after a minute Argos wormed his way out from the powder. His brown eyes stared at me, as if to say see?
I nodded, begrudgingly conveying how impressed I was. Invisibility potions were difficult to pull off, but somehow the dog and Nadia had made this one work.
It dropped a few grades based on taste, though.
A convoy rumbled up the icy path, drawing my attention back to the mission.
“Remember,” Argos said, shaking snow off his black-and-white fur, “dampeners will go down in five minutes.”
“I got the timeline,” I said. “I made the timeline.”
“They can’t see you, but they can sure as hell smell you.”
I wasn’t sure if that was an insult. “Got it.”
“And they’re probably not going to be feeling particularly merciful toward mortals.”
“Just have to rub it in, don’t you?” I gave him a playful rub on the ears, and the dog growled with disapproval. Being invisible had its advantages. So did mortality.
Yes, he was still immortal and I was getting older. Surprisingly enough, I was fine with it. I’d traded the half-demon manic-depressive mood oscillations for a way more steady psyche. The type of thing you didn’t really notice until, woah, your brain flipped to normal.
“And if they catch you?”
“Yeah, yeah, strung up by the balls and paraded around in front of everyone.” I slapped him on the back. “Get out of here.”
Argos raced off, his back legs kicking up snow. Chilly and fully awake, I made my way slowly toward the road, careful not to disturb the ground too much. It looked weird when tracks made themselves.
That was the kind of thing that got a whole base on lockdown.
I stood still near the fence, in a patch of ground well-worn by soldiers’ boots. The convoy’s high beams cut through the dark night, illuminating the numerous warning signs hanging everywhere—most of them some variation of, you break in, you get your brains vaporized.
Fair enough. The gate creaked open, protesting against the cold. The trucks rolled through without stopping, one after another. After the final supply truck rumbled past, I slipped in behind it, through the open gate.
My biometric wristband buzzed, indicating I had two minutes until the dampeners went out. I might not have been immortal, but I’d picked exactly the right time to lose my magical powers. Science threatened to make essence obsolete.
Well, not quite. But still, this thing and whatever balanced nutrition supplements it periodically injected into my bloodstream were going to keep me around for a long time.
I broke off from the main road, headed toward the residential area. Rows of identical pre-fab single-story housing quarters stretched on for as far as I could see. I was now in row A, at the very beginning; I needed to make my way to Cabin 33C.
Weaving through the houses, I made good time until a two-man patrol cut me off, taking their sweet time through the narrow street.
“You’re telling me you ain’t never fucked a vampire.”
“Come on, man, talking about that shit’ll get us in the can. Or worse.”
“Hell, everyone does it.”
“I don’t think they do.”
“You’re just green is all.” I watched as the duo passed by, the superior officer clinging to his new friend, clearly loaded.
I slipped out behind them as my watch buzzed three times.
Then two.
Then one.
Nothing happened immediately. Not that I would expect anything to. I sprinted to Row C, not particularly concerned about being seen. Pretty soon, everything would erupt into bedlam.
The first disturbance came from a few rows over—maybe H, or even something as far as L. A streaming pillar of fire erupted into the night, some determined sorcerer or witch finally making a breakthrough after months—or years—of futile nights.
Could’ve even been an enterprising demon. Once upon a time, I’d been known to rely on a spell just like that. Maybe I’d even saved the world with it.
Given the current state of the world, that might have been a stretch.
But we were all alive, weren’t we? Some of us, at least.
The fire acted like the shot heard ’round the world. Within seconds, the camp was a flutter of activity. Wolves howling, vampires bursting through the snow, everything racing to escape. Imps cackled as they floated through the open doors and flew into the night.
Shifters capable of turning themselves into birds quickly soared away, leaving the shackles of their prison behind forever.
.45 drawn, I weaved my way through the supernatural stampede, trying to keep to the shadows. A mountain troll trundled out of a nearby cabin, sniffing the air. His eyes locked in on my location, confused by the visual-olfactory disconnect.
Arms swinging, twin tusks digging into his chin, he charged.
Fucking trolls.
I raised the .45 and shot him twice in the head. For an instant, the rest of the creatures stopped, startled by the sudden noise materializing from the ether. I hauled ass down the street, away from the scene of the crime. Then everything resumed, like someone hitting play on a tape.
Much to my relief, no one but the stupid troll cared about me. Everyone was more concerned about living.
I reached 33C, which was strangely not open, and kicked in the door.
“I paid your fee, Damien. Twice, in fact.” Gunnar’s familiar voice was spiked with annoyance.
Damien was a guard, judging from the uniform.
I shot him in the head and stepped inside, taking stock of the scene. A flimsy card table—the kind old ladies use to play nickel bridge—was set up, covered in ratty playing cards and well-worn casino chip
s. Judging from the set-up, Gunnar was running himself a nice game of Texas hold ’em.
The rest of the creatures edged away from the table, hands raised. They probably thought they were dealing with some master warlock, since they couldn’t see me at all.
“Didn’t you guys get the memo?” I said. “School’s out.”
A hunched, older-looking man glanced at his fingertips, realization spreading over his face. A tiny spark sizzled at the end. Tears began to form in his eyes.
I was all for touching reunions, but I was also on a time schedule.
“Kalos?”
“Thought you might not recognize me.”
“You have gray in your beard, my friend.”
“How the hell would you know?” It was true—just a little.
“Perhaps a lucky guess.” Gunnar walked around the table slowly. Despite the modest surroundings—bunk beds with thin, rough blankets had been pushed away from the center of the room to set up the game—he still managed to look dapper. His shoulders looked leaner than I remembered, but his ice-blue eyes remained the same.
I clasped him on the back. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Ah, it is not so bad.” Gunnar gestured toward the table. “I have useful skills, ja? A good…” He snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the word.
“Résumé.”
“It is a wonder I have survived without you.” We both knew that wasn’t true, but the vampire looked relieved for the rescue, all the same.
Gunfire cut short the pleasantries. I nodded toward the door. “Time to leave.”
Despite fourteen years of non-practice, Gunnar had no problem getting his feet back underneath him. But with me tagging along, his top speed was severely limited. We wove our way away from the residential district, toward central command.
I had to drag Gunnar away from the towering concrete structure.
“You do not understand, Kalos.”
“I’m sure there’s all manners of pricks who you want to kill,” I said. “But we don’t have time.”
“Jones, he is not a prick. He is a savage.” His ice-blue eyes were obstinate. “He invented the dark room.”
“And I’m sure he’ll get a nice promotion from the government for that.” I tapped my wristband. “We have three minutes until the backup generators kick on.”
Moon Burn (The Half-Demon Rogue Trilogy Book 3) Page 26