Cast in Balefire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Mage Craft Series Book 4)

by SM Reine

  And now her memories were coming back. She was going to get to Shamayim and be Marion again.

  Konig let all the passion into his voice. “From the beginning, the sidhe have been about one thing: love. The love shared between husband and wife is only one representation of it. There’s the love of family, like us—or like the love of a king for his people. There’s the love between mother and child. There is…” His mouth was suddenly too dry to speak.

  Mentioning mother and child had reminded him of the way that Violet had looked, lying in a puddle of her own blood.

  She’d been shot by Seth. A god of Death making his judgment.

  “All relationships have trouble,” Konig finally said. “Haven’t you ever hated someone, but couldn’t live without them?”

  Hooch glanced back at Myrkheimr, his eyes cutting through the walls to the place Nikki must have stood. “Your Highness…”

  Konig grabbed Hooch’s shoulder. “I need Marion. We all do.”

  The commander nodded slowly, but he did nod.

  Being held captive by demons was exactly as bad as Rylie had told Benjamin it would be. “Of course I’ll do what I can to make sure it never happens,” Rylie had once reassured him, “but we’re a major target for attacks from all factions, and, well…”

  “I’m mundane, so I’m vulnerable,” Benjamin had said.

  His mother had hugged him to her chest. He’d still been short enough to fit under her chin at the time. “I was going to say that they’ll know that going after you is the most effective way to hurt me. But if such a thing happens, hang in there. I’ll come for you. I’ll always come for you.”

  “And you’ll eat them?”

  “Daddy will. I might get a few nibbles in, though. Gods have mercy on anyone who messes with you.”

  They’d concluded the conversation with chocolate ice cream and a review of family safety measures, which, when followed properly, would have likely ensured Benjamin never got abducted by demons. Or any other enemy, for that matter.

  Those precautions included not doing things like sneaking out of the sanctuary with Sinead McGrath’s help.

  Not running around with Marion.

  Not going to the Ethereal Levant without seelie bodyguards.

  That kind of thing.

  When one of Arawn’s demons wrenched Benjamin’s arms behind his back to tether them, all Benjamin could think was of what Rylie had said. Gods have mercy on anyone who messes with you. It had been reassuring when he’d been a kid in the safety of his mother’s kitchen.

  That was much less reassuring now that he was getting kicked to the ground.

  A boot stomped on his face. It didn’t hurt quite as much as getting his arm broken by his sister Lizzy, but it was close. He tasted blood. He saw stars.

  When his vision cleared, he also saw Nathaniel. “We’ve got a problem,” the other man said.

  “You’re telling me,” Benjamin replied.

  The demon that had knocked him down delivered another kick to his ribcage. “Don’t talk!” It spat the words in a voice mangled by his forked tongue.

  “It’s about the Meta,” Nathaniel said. “I need to be in Shamayim soon, and I just don’t see how that’s going to happen if I’m stuck in Dilmun.”

  Benjamin doubted he would be in Dilmun for very long. Arawn’s demons wouldn’t be able to stay somewhere so bright and exposed after sunrise, so they’d have to relocate him somewhere darker.

  That was where the real danger would start, he suspected.

  “Never let a captor take you to a different location,” Rylie had told him over that chocolate ice cream.

  “Because that’s when they’ll kill me?” he’d asked.

  “It just makes you harder to find,” she’d said. But he could see the truth of it in her eyes. If an enemy moved him, he’d be dead meat. “But stay calm, whatever happens. As I said…”

  “Dad will eat them,” Benjamin said.

  “Exactly.”

  Abel was nowhere in sight. He probably hadn’t even noticed that his well-behaved teenage son had wandered off. He trusted Benjamin to make good decisions—the exact kind of decisions that wouldn’t lead to Benjamin being face down on cobblestone and surrounded by demons.

  Benjamin squirmed onto his side when his captors weren’t looking. All he could see was the backs of bipedal, leather-clad, tattooed demons that were watching over the edge of Dilmun. And next to them, Nathaniel in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking impatient.

  “Get up,” Nathaniel said. “I have to get to Shamayim. All three of us.”

  “All three of who?” Benjamin asked.

  Another demon kicked him savagely. “Shut up!”

  “Just get there,” Nathaniel said. “Don’t die. I’ll wreck the Meta if I do.”

  He vanished.

  Benjamin was left with nothing but the desperate need to get to Shamayim, which was a really uncomfortable thing to be so fixated on, since he couldn’t move. He could barely even breathe.

  He needed to get to Shamayim.

  Rylie’s survival tips had never included ways to break out of his bindings, since she’d felt his general survival was more important. Survival was likeliest when it was negotiated with money.

  His dad, Abel, had been much more helpful. He’d tied up Benjamin a couple dozen times as a child to make him practice escaping.

  “Never go anywhere without a knife,” Abel had said while cinching Benjamin’s wrists tight behind his back. Abel had never gone gentle on any of his kids out of some weirdo form of dad respect, and Benjamin was no exception.

  “What if I’ve got a knife and they take it from me?” Benjamin had asked.

  “I said never go without a knife. That means you need a knife even if they take your knife.” Abel had slipped a narrow strip of sharpened plastic into Benjamin’s fingers. “Tuck this somewhere. It doesn’t smell, so shifters won’t know it’s there. There’s no enchantment, so witches won’t detect nothing neither. And it doesn’t show up on metal detectors. Do you feel it?”

  “I do,” Benjamin had said, memorizing the shape of the plastic blade.

  “Great.” Abel had taken it away and tucked it into Benjamin’s sock, which was on his right foot, which was tied to his left foot, with both chained above his head. “Now get out before dinner so Mom doesn’t worry when you don’t show up.”

  Abel had left him in the room like that, hanging upside-down with his only cutting implement inaccessible.

  Benjamin didn’t remember exactly how he’d squirmed to get the plastic blade out of his sock, but he remembered it had been painful and involved a sprained ankle.

  He wriggled his shoulders and rubbed his cheek on the collar of his shirt until something hard fell out of the lapel. Plastic clattered to the cobblestone quietly enough that the demons didn’t hear.

  One of them kept a foot on Benjamin’s hip while they talked about balefire in Sheol—was it coming their way, was it going to kill them, could they outrun it?—so he couldn’t shift many inches in order to reach the blade. He had to inch his fingers slower than a snail heading across a freeway.

  Benjamin relaxed under the demon’s foot as soon as he reached his knife. The plastic blade had been upgraded since Abel’s lessons. It was actually two slender picks connected by a plastic chain, so it could be used to open locks, too. That wasn’t a feature he needed on that day. The demons had used good old-fashioned rope on him.

  He started to saw.

  Plastic versus rope wasn’t much of a competition. It shredded one little fiber at a time.

  Benjamin kept sawing.

  It was getting hot in Dilmun. White balefire crawled along the edge of the city, and the buildings seemed to reflect off of the mirrored walls, intensifying the heat like sun through a magnifying glass.

  “Hate that stuff,” said the demon with his foot on Benjamin. “Creeps me out.”

  Another demon snorted. “Who even thought that was a good idea? Fire that
burns through anything!”

  The rope relaxed around Benjamin’s wrists. He twisted his arms, and the pressure widened the tear. Whatever fiber the rope was made from wasn’t very sturdy. They must not have planned to hold him for very long. He wasn’t optimistic enough to think that was because they were going to release him.

  The rope popped off entirely.

  “There he is!” A demon pointed through the balefire to a dark form climbing over the side of Dilmun. It was too bulky to be Marion.

  The foot lifted from his hip.

  Benjamin didn’t wait around to see if anyone would notice.

  He bolted.

  Even when he’d been chased by annoyed werewolf classmates, Benjamin hadn’t been as fast as he was in that moment, scrabbling along Dilmun’s cobblestone streets. He hurled himself around the nearest building, and the annoyed shouts of demons followed him.

  Balefire blocked the road around the corner. He plunged into a tower across the street instead. Its entire first floor—which was seriously a hundred meters tall—was nothing but spindly metal holding up the mirrors of a dozen floors, so his path was clear as he ran.

  His pursuers were reflected at him from every angle, but it made his eyes water to try to focus on the demons when it was so damn bright. Benjamin only glanced at the windows to tell how far they were behind him.

  “Not far enough,” Nathaniel said. He’d already reached the far end of the building. His hands were hooked in his pockets, his shoes still shiny without a single scuff. Pristine.

  “Thanks for the opinion,” Benjamin panted.

  He tore around another corner, and Nathaniel was there too, down at the end. “Not this way, they’re coming this way.”

  Benjamin planned to ignore him until he saw the swarm coming down the street.

  They weren’t demons, like those who’d been taunting him while he was tied up. They were dogs. Big, sleek white dogs with red-tipped ears. They reminded him of oversized jackals.

  And they were much faster than the lumbering bug-demons.

  “Told you,” Nathaniel said.

  Benjamin turned to go another way.

  Arawn was behind him. “Boo.”

  His fist connected with Benjamin’s jaw. He fell to the street flat on his back, feeling like Arawn had nearly decapitated him.

  Tears sprang to Benjamin’s eyes. He instinctively went limp, just in case he’d been seriously hurt, trying not to aggravate the injury. And that’s why Rylie never taught you how to escape.

  “Don’t be a baby.” Arawn yanked him off of the ground again. Pain shot down Benjamin’s spine. He couldn’t help but cry out. “Take it as a lesson. Yo, Char, can you haul this garbage around?”

  A ten-foot-tall monster lumbered out of the glare of the balefire. Benjamin had gotten around as the son of Alphas, but he’d still never seen anything like the creature that stooped to pick him up. It was gangly with uneven teeth and lumpy skin and long, long claws. There were also pustules on its face. Dripping pustules.

  He’d have rather gotten punched again than picked up by that thing.

  “No!”

  Benjamin twisted away, but the monster picked him up effortlessly. No amount of feeble kicking bothered it. “Careful.” Its voice was softer than he’d expected. Wait, was it a girl? “You’re at more risk of hurting yourself than being hurt by me.”

  He went still.

  She sounded perfectly nice. But she couldn’t be nice if she was with Arawn.

  “I’m a prisoner too,” she said, as if reading his mind.

  They started walking toward the edge of Dilmun. Nathaniel had gotten there first—again. He peered over the edge with his toes sticking out over the side. He wasn’t the least bit worried about falling.

  “Do you know something about this?” Benjamin asked.

  “Don’t look at me,” Nathaniel said. “I’m only here to get myself to Shamayim.”

  “Who are you talking to?” asked the monster holding Benjamin. Even she couldn’t see Nathaniel, although the invisible man stepped out of her way so that she could take his position at the edge of Dilmun.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Benjamin clung tightly to her shoulders. It felt like the wind was going to suck him into space, sending him plummeting to the ground kilometers below.

  Night had fallen on the demon camp, so he couldn’t see it anymore. But he could see a line of headlights crossing the desert. They were halfway across the plateau.

  “There we go!” Arawn rubbed his hands together with glee. “Looks like the new owners are here to get the keys! Guys?”

  A demon broke away from the others. It was a squat thing with a frog-like face wearing an orange robe. “I’ll take care of this.” It lifted hands that looked like they belonged on a kangaroo.

  Red magic sizzled along the demon’s fingertips, turning to billowing smoke. Dense clouds converged from the nighttime sky. They fogged the air, haloing the balefire in mist and blotting out the stars.

  It was a warlock. A demon that could cast magic. Benjamin had heard such a thing was possible, but he’d never thought he’d witness it. Demons weren’t supposed to be on Earth.

  “Right there, please,” Arawn said, pointing.

  The warlock gestured. Clouds congealed at the edge of Dilmun, forming a long slope to the ground. It was sturdy enough that people could stand on it.

  The insect-like demons walked down first. Arawn hung back with Benjamin and the monster holding him.

  “This won’t take long,” Arawn said, patting the monster’s elbow. “Just a short run. Feel up to it?” She said nothing, but she glowered hatred at him that made her face even uglier. “Don’t tell me you’re still worked up over the whole killing Marion thing.”

  “You lied to me!”

  “I’m a demon,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  Arawn sauntered down the cloudy path.

  Benjamin could only stare.

  “Marion’s dead?” he asked.

  The monster shifted to look at him. The skin under her eyes sagged, letting him see that the soft tissue around her eyeballs was the gray of bloodless flesh. “I’m sorry. Do you know her?”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m Charity Ballard, a nurse. I treated Marion when she was in the hospital.” She stepped out onto the clouds as well. Benjamin gripped her tighter. “Oh, and I’m a revenant, by the way.”

  That was so unimportant.

  Marion was dead.

  Benjamin felt strange about it—not exactly grieving, because it was still too new to accept, but…panicky. Frantic. If the demons had killed Marion, a half-angel mage, then a mundane like Benjamin didn’t stand a hair of a chance in this universe or any other. He didn’t even have a knife anymore.

  But he did have a revenant.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Charity said. “I didn’t know Marion very well, but she made an impression.”

  “Yeah, she does that,” Benjamin said faintly.

  “I’ve still got to get to Shamayim,” Nathaniel said, tapping his watch. He kept pace with the long-legged revenant effortlessly.

  “I have to run,” Benjamin said.

  He meant to be speaking to Nathaniel, but it was Charity who agreed. “Okay,” she said. “I don’t owe Arawn. But escaping will be dangerous. Can you do anything to help?”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re friends with Marion, so…magic?” Charity suggested.

  This was the part Benjamin hated. He’d come out of the closet as being the most boring non-special person in the world a thousand times, and he still never got used to the laughter. “I’m mundane.”

  “Oh.” Charity didn’t laugh. In fact, the expression on her face was a lot like envy—and then fear. “Wait, how old are you?”

  “I’m about to go to college,” he said.

  The diversion worked on most people, but not Charity. She’d probably dealt with too many misleading teenagers in the hospital. “How old are you?”

  Benjamin
sighed. “Sixteen.” He looked old for his age, though. The height helped.

  “Sixteen and mundane.” Charity gathered herself, standing her impressive form up even straighter. “Gods, I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She said, “Close your eyes.”

  And he did.

  Benjamin kept them closed through the screaming, the splattering, and the wild jostling as he was swung underneath one of her arms.

  He wanted to peek, but Nathaniel’s voice spoke into his head.

  Don’t look.

  So he didn’t look. And he kept his eyes closed until the sounds of dying receded into footsteps pounding against dirt, and the wind whipping past his ears.

  When Benjamin opened his eyes to slits, he saw the revenant’s mouth drenched in blood. She was focused over his head on the horizon. Dilmun was shrinking at her back. At that distance, the balefire made the mirrored buildings look like glowing beacons in the night.

  They had escaped Arawn.

  “Wait here.” Charity set Benjamin down at the edge of the demon encampment. The area was empty of life, but wouldn’t be for long—not with those headlights approaching.

  Charity had already begun jogging back toward the warlock’s bridge on the far side of Dilmun’s pillar. Charity had ripped through them, but she’d left survivors.

  “Where are you going?” Benjamin asked. “You can’t leave me!”

  The revenant began to say, “I have some business to finish.”

  She didn’t get the last word out.

  Lightning arced from the cloudless sky in a blazing bar of white. Magic crashed into Charity. She collapsed where she stood, forming a charred pile of limbs.

  When she dropped, there was a man standing behind her.

  Nathaniel dusted his hands off and checked his watch. He glowed faintly despite the absence of moonlight. “Finally, I’m alone. Now I can get work done.”

  22

  Falling into the Pit of Souls was an entirely different experience than jumping willingly off of Dilmun’s surface. At least Marion had known what was waiting at the bottom when she jumped off of Dilmun. At least she’d been prepared to survive with the assistance of potions.