The Price of Brimstone

by Allie Gail

  “Don't listen to him.”

  The voice comes to me from behind like a soft summer breeze. Loc! He's here, but whether as my salvation or the last nail in my coffin remains to be seen.

  With a sound of disgust, Leraje shoves me away from him, and I fall backward onto the hard, rocky ground. Stunned, I lift my stinging hands to gaze at them numbly. My palms are scraped and pink with smeared blood.

  “Touch her again and I'll impale you on your own blade, old man.” Loc is by me in an instant, gently helping me to my feet. “I knew you were a brainless bastard, but this – what did you expect to accomplish with this? You know as well as I do, it won't work this way. She has to do it willingly.”

  “Yes, and she already would have, wouldn't she? If you hadn't gone and deviated from your instructions! Tell me you weren't doing what I think you were doing – tell me my own son hasn't turned traitor over some pathetic human wretch!”

  “Relax, love. He's bluffing. He can't kill you,” Loc murmurs, attempting to warm me in the fold of his arms. “Literally. There is no death in this realm, not even for the living.” Here he pauses to shoot his father a pointed look. “Not that the living should even be here. Unless you possess demon blood, like me, it's strictly forbidden.”

  “What did you expect me to do?” Leraje snarls. “We're running out of time!”

  “I expected you to stay out of it and let me handle things!”

  “Handle things? You had her, you damned fool, you had her, and then you went and burned our redemption in the fireplace!”

  “I know what I'm doing.”

  “Do you? Because it sure as bloody hell doesn't seem that way from my end! From my end, it looks like a bloody act of sabotage!”

  “Maybe your end should just step back and mind its own business. I told you I had it under control!”

  The thing in the mist roars impatiently, and Loc snaps into the darkness, “Get the hell out of here, Typhidna, before I have you roasted for Lucifer's dinner!”

  A series of yelps fades into the distance as the chimera – if that is indeed what it is – turns tail and runs.

  Still seething with anger, Leraje doesn't even seem to notice. “Under control, eh? Then tell me – how is it we still have no contract? How is it that with less than an hour left, we still...have...NOTHING!”

  “Not nothing. Trust me. I know what I'm doing.”

  “We're too close to the finish line for me to trust you anymore, boy. From here on out I'll take over myself. I might have known you'd screw this up.”

  “You, take over? Well, why not, when you've been doing such a bang-up job so far?” Loc's arms tighten protectively around me. “You, with your threats. You're wasting your time, old man. She isn't going to listen to you.”

  “She doesn't have to listen. All she has to do is understand that I can inflict pain on her fragile human body like nothing she's ever known.” The huge demon wraps both hands around the claymore's hilt, and turns his attention to me with a menacing glare. “Not in the worst of your nightmares, little girl! Not in the darkest, most depraved depths of your imagination! Hear me now, and then you never need listen again! You will give me what I want!”

  All this time I've just been standing there, shivering against Loc as I soak in his body heat, listening to their exchange in mute bewilderment. I feel as if I'm third party to a conversation that doesn't involve me. How can it, when I don't understand what any of this madness has to do with me? I've never had any personal dealings with demons before. Why are they suddenly so desperate for my soul? What makes mine different than anyone else's?

  I'm no saint. Far from it. Neither, though, do I consider myself a bad person. What is it they're looking for? Just what is it I have that fits in with their agenda?

  Why me?

  “God,” I whimper, as my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. There is no courage left within me – I am done. Exhausted. Finished. And in the face of my demise, in the dank and ugly viscera of Hell, the only words that come to me are a snippet of the psalm that never failed to comfort me as a child. Clutching my lover, who may very well be my destroyer, I brace myself and murmur, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me...”

  “STOP THAT!” Howling in deranged fury, Leraje swings the sword into the air with the powerful dexterity of a warrior engaging in battle.

  I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable strike.

  Against my temple, I feel the soft kiss of Locryn's lips as he quietly whispers one word.

  “Run.”

  And then he pushes me – back into the cold, black abyss.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Chapter Thirty

  If there were somewhere to run, I would gladly go there.

  But in the dark, empty void that consumes me, there is nothing. No sight, no sound, nothing to smell or taste or touch. I am nowhere. Nothing exists. Nothing but the cold. The cold is everything.

  I don't want to be here again. Dear God, not again...if I could weep, I would.

  But the tears would only freeze like snowflakes.

  And then I see it.

  A candle in the darkness, a speck of light so small it may only exist in my mind. A thousand miles away, or at least it seems that way, and yet it beckons warmly. That's where I want to be. I have to get there. I have to try.

  My limbs are so stiff it takes all my strength to move them. The effort is exhausting. I'm hurting all over, burning with the pins and needles of ice-cold pain. Still, I'm encouraged when I find that I am able to move. Is there something solid beneath my feet? It's hard to tell. I force one leg forward, willing it to advance. Then the other. I can do it. I can. I'm walking. I'm making progress.

  I pant, struggling to suck in enough oxygen. It feels like I'm trying to run through thick, waist-deep mud. But I'm moving. I'm moving. It may take the rest of my life, but I'll get to that flame. I'll get there or I'll die trying.

  You'll die trying! From all around me comes a confusion of voices, voices that don't belong in a place with no sound. Laughing, sneering, mocking: You'll die trying!

  “Then I'll die!” I shriek at them in one breath, because one is all I can spare. And I hear my own voice.

  Faint, muted, but I can hear it.

  It's the flame. The closer I get to it, the more I can hear. There are voices in the light; not the cruel, unnatural ones, but real human voices. People talking. Moving. Shouting.

  Life. There is life in that flame.

  I run. My body moves in slow motion, the frigid nothingness rebelling against me. I don't stop. I keep going. The voices are far away, but they are becoming more discernible. Sometimes I can make out pieces of what they're saying.

  “...she conscious?”

  “Get me some heat packs – stat!”

  “...careful not to move...don't wanna send her into v-fib...”

  “Her temperature isn't registering...”

  “Hurry up with that blanket!”

  “Jude, can you hear me? Lie still, try not to move.”

  My God, is that Max?

  Still wading through the darkness, I strain to listen.

  “It's gonna be okay. You're okay. Just relax, lie still. I'm here, baby girl.”

  It is! It's him!

  “Max!”

  A frozen scream tears its way out of my throat as I hurl myself forward, forward, forward into the light.

  Judith. Can you hear me? Wake up.

  Mama?

  Yes, baby. Mama's here.

  Where are you? I can't see you.

  I'm right beside you, sweetie. Open your eyes, I have something to show you. Come on now, lazybones, rise and shine! You have to see it.

  See what?

  Oh, just the most beautiful thing...all the wildflowers are blooming. In November, isn't that something? All of them! Daisies, bluebells, goldenrod, violets...you never saw so many colors. We're celebrating! Isn't that nice
?

  I guess.

  Wake up and we'll go see them. Wouldn't you like that?

  Later. I'm tired.

  But you don't want to sleep now! There's so much to do. So much to see. You need to wake up for Mama.

  It's too cold.

  I know, sweetie. But it won't stay cold for long, I promise. Don't you want to see the flowers?

  No. I wanna sleep.

  What about me? Will you open your eyes for me?

  Mmm...I'll try. Do I have to go to school?

  No, there's no school today. You can do whatever you like, how's that? Whatever you like. Just open your eyes, Judith. Do it for Mama, baby, please...

  Panic envelops me, and I struggle to sit up, causing the IV tube to jerk the needle in my hand painfully. “W-what time is it?”

  I must have dozed off. Stupid of me. I can't let myself do that – I have to stay awake, stay alert until-

  “It's almost three in the morning.” Grinning, Russ leans over the bed to ruffle my hair affectionately. “Why? You got somewhere better to be?”

  I relax against the pillow, my anxiety fading now that I know my birth hour has passed. I don't know if it means anything, but Loc sure seemed to think it mattered.

  My eyes droop, and I blink several times to force them open. It feels so good to finally be warm. There's this thing on top of me, like a white pool float with something that looks like a vacuum cleaner hose coming out of it. I think one of the nurses called it a bear hugger, or something like that. Warm air is being pumped into it through the hose. I wonder why they don't just use an electric blanket?

  “It's my birthday,” I mumble to no one in particular. Does that mean I'm safe? I don't know. Leraje must be furious. But wouldn't he have come after me by now?

  Sprawled out in one of those ugly blue hospital recliners, Skylar looks up from the Premier Bride magazine she's been thumbing through. “Oh my gosh! It's your birthday?”

  “She's twenty-one today,” Russ confirms.

  “Wow. That sucks! Having to spend your birthday like this.” Rolling the magazine up in her hands, she winces sympathetically. “I remember for my twenty-first birthday, me and some friends had this trip planned to Puerto Vallarta and wouldn't you know, the weather was a mess that day. Our flight was delayed for like, four hours. Ugh, that was the worst.”

  I almost choke on a laugh. Poor, clueless Skylar.

  She means well, God love her.

  “We'll celebrate later,” Max promises, and my heart melts. So sweet – does he think that's what I'm worried about? That I'm not able to kick up my heels for my birthday? Please, I'm just happy I managed to live long enough to see it.

  He reaches underneath the warming blanket to take my hand, the one that doesn't have an IV catheter taped to it, and rubs it gently between his. He looks tired but handsome, still dressed in his navy blue paramedic uniform. It was nice of them to let him stay with me while he's supposed to be on duty.

  He was beside me during the ambulance ride too, all business as he monitored my vitals, and it seemed terribly important that I tell him about his contract. Right away. Because it must have been weighing heavy on his mind, and more than anything I wanted to lift that weight.

  S-s-soul...s-s-s-safe... was all I could manage before he shushed me. Did he understand? Could he make out what I was trying to say? I haven't had another opportunity to talk to him, not without someone else being close enough to hear.

  “Why did they keep me here?” I ask, gazing up at the stark white ceiling. The fluorescent lights are off, presumably to help me sleep. My voice sounds slurred, but I'm too drowsy to care or even wonder why. “There's nothing wrong with me. I feel fine. Why can't you just take me home?”

  Max squeezes my hand. “I'm sure they'll release you soon. Maybe after the doctor has a chance to look at you again. They just want to monitor your heart rate a little longer. Make sure everything's kosher.”

  Oh. Well, hard to argue with that. Especially when I think back to the way my heart rhythm felt all wrong, somehow. It's okay now, or at least I don't feel anything weird, but there was a queer sensation in my chest earlier.

  Earlier is a blur.

  Earlier is something I'd just as soon forget.

  From what I've gathered by listening to bits of conversation, it seems some truck driver spotted me lying by the side of the road, disoriented and barely conscious. Not even a mile from my house, can you believe that? At the time, it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. I was shaking so hard I was practically convulsing, and unable (or maybe unwilling) to open my eyes. Mostly what I remember is the keening wail of sirens, the damp hardness of the ground beneath me, and Max's soothing voice. I can't imagine how shocking it must have been for him, responding to a rescue call only to get there and discover that the patient was me.

  I don't recall the police being there, either, but apparently they were. Thank goodness Max was quick-witted enough to assure them that he knew me, and that I was a recurrent sleepwalker. He reasoned that I must have gotten dressed in my sleep and just strolled right out the door. They would've had an awful lot of questions if not for that. As it was, no one could quite figure out how my core temperature could drop so low without me waking up. It was a frigid night of twenty-six degrees – how could I sleep through that, they all wondered?

  I lied. Told the ER doctor I'd taken an Ambien. What was I supposed to say? That I'd been to Hell and back, literally? Yeah, I'm sure that would've gone over real well. He'd be setting me up for a mental evaluation.

  And the dream. That strange dream – or maybe hallucination – that my mother was talking to me. It was her voice for sure, I'd know it anywhere. So real. So damn real...

  “I'm gonna go see if I can find a break room,” Skylar announces, stretching as she slides lazily to her feet. “Maybe get some coffee. I gotta have some caffeine like, now. Anyone want anything?”

  “I think I saw some vending machines on the first floor.” Digging out his wallet, Russ hands her several bills. “Why don't you bring us back a couple of Cokes?”

  “Sure. Be right back.”

  Once she's gone, I turn my face to Max and quietly ask him, “You heard what I was telling you in the ambulance, didn't you?”

  “Not really,” he murmurs back. “You weren't making much sense.”

  “I said, your soul is safe. Loc burned the contract. You're off the hook.”

  He stares at me blankly, his reaction understandably skeptical. “Why would he burn my contract?”

  “I...asked him to.”

  Russ walks around the foot of my bed, coming to stand beside Max so he can hear better.

  “Jude.” Even in the dark room, I can see Max's face turning pale. “What did you do?”

  “It's not what you think,” I hastily reassure him. “I didn't sign over my soul either. He had a change of heart, that's all. I talked to him. Convinced him to listen to reason. In the end, I think maybe he felt sorry for me.” I'll tell Max the whole story eventually. The truth. Right now though, I'm too tired to hash out the details. All he needs to know is that he's free.

  “That skullfucking scat maggot doesn't have a heart.” Russ scowls, and he avoids looking at me as he asks, “What did he do to you, Juju? You tell me right now. Did he hurt you?”

  A lump swells in my throat. He hasn't called me Juju since I was eight years old.

  “No. He didn't hurt me.”

  “Where did he take you? Do you know?”

  “I don't know where we were. I was blindfolded the whole way there.” I lie, only because I know my brother. I know that if I told him where Locryn was, he'd go off half-cocked and do something stupid. If Loc and his merry band of demons are still in Silverton, then it would be suicide for Russ to show up there. And he would, too. He seems to think he's invincible. “I'm not even sure how long we were driving. Could've been three hours, could've been six. I just don't know.”

  He glances at me, then quickly looks away. Now I know why h
e wouldn't look into my eyes. There are tears in his.

  Max continues to stroke my hand. “Can you tell me what happened to you? Why you were hypothermic when we found you?”

  “I don't really remember.” It's too much to try and explain now.

  “What do you remember?” Russ persists.

  “There's not much to remember. I was put in a room and pretty much just left alone most of the time. It got boring, actually. I slept a lot.” It's a load of crap, obviously, but I figure it's what they want to hear. If it makes them feel better, then why not? My brother's temper can't handle the truth, and Max...well, I'll fill him in later.

  “You must have some idea where you were, at least the general vicinity. I mean, how did you get away?”

  I sigh wearily. Russ wants details, and he isn't going to stop badgering me until he gets them. I can only imagine the elaborate revenge scheme he's plotting in his mind.

  “I fell asleep and just...woke up by the side of the road. I'm sorry, but that's all I know.” Gazing up at his familiar face, it suddenly strikes me how very much alike we are. Both of us headstrong. Both of us willful. Relentlessly determined to do the right thing, even if sometimes our concept of 'the right thing' is hopelessly skewed. “You have to let this go, Russ. It's over. I'm back, I'm fine, I wasn't hurt, and Price isn't going to bother us again. I think he's tired of playing with us. He's moved on. Which is what we need to do.”

  “Yeah, but I don't-”

  “Dude.” Max touches him lightly on the arm. “Maybe now isn't the time. She needs to rest.”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Shooting me a guilty look, Russ opens his mouth as if he's about to say something else, then appears to change his mind. “Look, why don't you try and get some sleep, okay? We can talk about this later.”