by Debra Dunbar
Kristin’s pink skin turned ghostly pale. “I can do a fake ritual, but I’m not an illusionist. If we screw it up and their guy doesn’t believe us, then Jordan is dead.”
I eyed the scroll again, wishing we had another.
“The button,” Irix announced. His eyes were hard topaz and his mouth tight. I had no idea what this button was, but the incubus clearly didn’t like the idea of using it one bit. “The man captured by the vampires last night had an elf button. It transports one and any other being or thing that is touching him or her. Kristin can do her fake ritual, and I’ll secretly activate the button. As far as the human is concerned, we were banished.”
“But we’ll be in Hel,” I protested. The thought of leaving the witches and vampires behind to deal with the Crimson Moon group and their elven–taught mage sent ice through my veins. Jordan was already in danger. How many more of my household would suffer without my protection?
“Not for long.” Irix smiled, although his eyes remained cold and hard. “Banishment would mean we couldn’t return here unless summoned. The gates would no longer work for us. Utilizing a button means we can find the nearest gate and be back here in record time.”
I opened my mouth to protest and snapped it shut. We had no idea where the button would take us, and the nearest gate back from Hel could put us halfway across the world from New Orleans. By the time we managed to convince a Korean airline to fly two people without passports seven–thousand miles, New Orleans could already be underwater.
This was the best option on the table, the only one that would keep Jordan alive. I had to trust Irix, put myself and the fate of all those I cared about in a demon’s hands.
* * *
31
Mr. Wilcox was once again duct–taped to a chair. He was looking slightly better than the last time I’d seen him, although his pallor led me to believe that Ourson had taken more than his usual pint of blood.
Our spectator was against a brick wall, well away from the chalk circle and runes that covered the cement floor. Bliss hadn’t been appropriate for our theatrical deception, so the vampires had arranged for us to use an old warehouse in the commercial district. Kristin, Evie, Stu, and five other Wiccans were busy getting candles and incense in order while we stood by. I walked over to Mr. Wilcox, who was regarding it all with bewilderment.
“They have one of our friends,” I told him. “They’ve threatened to kill her unless the Wiccans back off. You’re to witness our banishment then report back to your order that we’ve complied so they let Jordan go unharmed.”
Mr. Wilcox had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry. I know I owe you my life, and hate that it’s come to this.”
“You can repay me by making sure Jordan comes out of this alive.” The thought that we’d be unable to help from Hel was more worrisome than my journeying to that dangerous place. I was a half–elf — an abomination in the eyes of my kin. If any of them knew I was still alive, the death sentence I’d once had on my head would be renewed. Still, none of that weighed as heavy in my mind as Jordan’s safety.
“I will.” The man seemed to wrestle with something then looked up at me, his eyes earnest. “Tell me your names, and I will summon you back as soon as I am able. Maybe in a few decades, I’ll be able to call you back and negate the banishment.”
I only had the one name, and I wasn’t sure how summoning and banishing would work with me as a half–demon. Besides, Irix and I intended to be back here tomorrow.
I shook my head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be okay.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. Sex demons — someone’s always summoning you. Other demons can grant riches, power, and revenge, but everyone wants to summon the demon that will give them passion.”
“That passion comes with a hefty price,” I reminded him.
“Every demon’s gift comes with a hefty price.” He looked up at me, a sheepish smile on his face. “Some things are worth the price. One night of mind–blowing sex is definitely worth it.”
I felt the trickle of attraction, the curl of pheromones that slid seductively toward Mr. Wilcox. It was kind of creepy, given how much he looked like my high–school chemistry teacher, but my monster was willing to overlook that.
“Amber. We’re ready.”
I reached out a hand and cupped the man’s face, my thumb caressing his cheekbone. “What was your name again?”
“Steve. Steve Mulligan.” His voice was a whisper. I moved my hand to trace the corner of his mouth with the tips of my fingers.
“Goodbye, Steve Mulligan. I hope to see you again, preferably under better circumstances.”
His eyes flashed, and I could tell he was imagining all those ‘better circumstances’. “Me too. Me too.”
I reluctantly dropped my hand to my side and turned to join Irix in the circle, careful not to smudge any of the runes around the edge of the line.
“You okay?” he asked, taking my hand.
I looked at Kristin carefully placing candles at the four quarters “I’m worried about them. What if Crimson Moon doesn’t keep their end of the bargain?”
“Eloise said the vampires will keep an eye on things and step in if they don’t let Jordan go as promised. Remember, they have that list of names and won’t be shy about using it.”
Ourson and his group were interested in a mutually beneficial relationship with the Wiccans, but I couldn’t imagine the potential of a few spells in the future would equal their sticking their necks out like this. I glanced over at Irix’s shadowed face and wondered if he’d offered Eloise a favor in return. It would be unlike a demon to do that to protect a human he hardly knew, but Irix seemed to be full of un–demon–like behavior lately.
“Besides,” he continued, “we’ll be back by tomorrow. As soon as we land in Hel, I’ll transform into my winged form. Once we figure out where we are, I can fly us to the nearest gate. Then it’s just a matter of catching a plane back to New Orleans.”
I hoped it all went as smoothly as he thought. We fell silent as Kristin began the ritual. It all followed the structure of what we’d done in the swamp, except instead of the raspy scrape of Wiccan energy, I felt nothing. It was like watching it all unfold on a movie screen. Kristin gave us a discrete nod and Irix gathered me to him, burying my face against his chest. His chin rested on top of my head. I heard Kristin intone the words that would supposedly banish us back to Hel until summoned.
“Glah ham, shoceacan,” Irix whispered into my hair, and I heard a faint ‘snick’.
My stomach lurched, and I felt like I was tossed into the center of a tornado. I clung to Irix, digging my face into the softness of his shirt and breathing deep. It was over in a fraction of a second, but the vertigo continued to spin me around for minutes after my feet were on solid ground. My body felt odd. It stretched and pulled, as if my skin were accommodating changing bone structure.
“You eventually get used to it,” Irix murmured, stroking my back and holding me upright against him. “The first time’s a real bitch, though.”
Indeed. I reached a hand up to rub against my tingling face and felt the ridge of cheekbones and elongated ears that rose through my long hair into unfamiliar points.
“You truly look full elf now, little half–breed.” Irix reached out to run a finger along the point of an ear, and I caught my breath at the sensation. “Your demon half might not have a huge range of forms, but you are very skilled at blending into your surroundings.”
Great. I was the half–breed chameleon. Well, at least with the pointy ears, I wouldn’t be mistaken for a human and enslaved, or discovered for the half–breed I was and murdered.
I breathed deep, lifting my head from the safety of Irix’s chest and looked over his shoulder. We were in a surreal woodland, an unbelievable mix of rainforest and northern–European plants living side by side. The bird song was accompanied by a harmonious mix of what sounded to be insects and amphibians. The brush beside us rustled. I tensed, relaxing a
s a small, furry animal darted out. It paused a few feet from us, short nose twitching under luminous brown eyes.
“Durft,” Irix said. “They’re pretty tasty if you can catch them.”
I couldn’t imagine killing something so cute. Extending my fingers, I made kissy noises at the fluff ball. Its jaw unhinged, and fangs the size of my pinkie extended down as it hissed. I snatched my fingers back.
I felt the demon’s chest rumble against me with laughter. “I was two hundred when I caught my first one, and he tore me up something fierce. Got away, too. Left me bleeding and missing half my toes, and I didn’t even get to eat the little monster.”
Two hundred. And I was a few weeks shy of twenty–one.
“Where are we?” I asked, feeling secure enough to step out of Irix’s embrace and turn around to survey the rest of the forest. The air felt comfortably warm, but something in the atmosphere lifted my skin with a strange tingling sensation. It was as if a low–level electric current constantly ran through me.
“One of the elven kingdoms.” Irix walked to a tree and ran a hand down the bluish–gray bark. “It’s hard to tell which one since they tend to favor similar styles in their created landscapes. I’ll be able to better get my bearings once we’re airborne.”
My mind halted at created landscapes. “This … the elves made this? Trees, plants, and wildlife?”
“Well, not the wildlife. All the plants, and the general environment. You’ll see once we cross the border into the demon sections. None of this is indigenous to Hel. It’s all a reproduction of how the Elven homeland was before their sun went nova.”
This was a far cry from reviving wilted begonias. I forgot to breathe as I stared around in renewed amazement.
“Although they didn’t create any of the animals — elves can’t do that sort of thing, they did a program of selective breeding over the last several–million years and have been able to approximate many of the animal species they once had.”
“It’s a shame they couldn’t find a planet where the plants and animals were more similar to their homeland,” I commented, still amazed they’d accomplished so much, even in millions of years.
“Well, your planet is actually nearly identical to theirs. They had the opportunity to share it with you, but during the war between the angels and demons, they chose to come to Hel rather than remain under the angels’ thumb. It was the lesser of two evils, in my opinion. I can only imagine how their lives would have been with the angels breathing down their necks all the time. We pretty much leave them alone, other than the occasional trespass.”
I wandered over toward a thorny shrub that had dark purple berries nestled among the green–gold leaves. Were they edible? If I had created this paradise of flora and fauna, I’d make them edible. I reached out toward the leaves and heard a thrumming noise, barely audible, beneath the birdsong. Instinctively I shot out my hand and grabbed the arrow mid–flight, snapping the shaft in two as I whirled about to block the archer’s aim.
It hadn’t been meant for me. The arrow had been shot straight toward Irix.
“Amber! Get down!” Irix shouted.
No fucking way. Stupid, I know, since Irix could quickly heal any wound, where I was more vulnerable to injury. A flurry of arrows came at me, too many to catch. As one ripped through the flesh along my arm, something huge knocked me to the ground from behind, driving the breath from my lungs. I heard the thud of arrows into solid flesh, felt the massive form on my back relax, squashing me further into the dirt.
“Get. Off. Can’t. Breathe.”
The pressure lifted, and the weight slid to the side of me. I rolled over and stared into a narrow bird–face, complete with sharp beak and a scaled head. My terror vanished the moment I met its golden eyes and recognized Irix. My gaze traveled from the freaky pterodactyl head, down an over–sized human torso, to scaled arms and legs that ended in talons the size of my forearm. Pinned tight to his back by arrows were huge leathery wings. He looked like a pincushion, bristling with the feathered shafts.
A voice shouted something in a language I didn’t understand, and Irix tried to move his arm protectively over me. Whatever was on the arrows must have had a numbing effect, because his arm twitched, and he collapsed into a heap beside me. Seeing him like this, a mighty demon brought down, snapped something inside me, and I shrieked in fury, jumping to my feet and spinning to face the two men behind me.
Judging from their pointed ears, they were elves. Blond and fair–skinned with chameleon–like clothing that shifted and changed to blend with their background. They were holding a net of sparkling silver between them, and their mouths dropped open as they saw me.
Again with the sing–song language. The only word I understood from the handful Nyalla had taught me was “elf”. Yeah, assholes. But I’m only half an elf, and one–hundred percent of me was pissed. Before they could recover from their shock, I launched a lightning bolt at one of them, frying him to a blackened lump of flesh. I’d never channeled such power before. I wasn’t sure if it was my anger or the weird tingling feeling I got from the air in Hel, but what was supposed to knock him down cooked him on the spot. I didn’t have much chance to register dismay at the over–the–top effect of my powers, though. The remaining elf dropped his half of the scorched net and screamed a word I recognized as “demon” before taking off through the woods.
I hated to leave Irix numb on the forest floor, but I knew I couldn’t let this elf get away. I dashed through the forest after him, following the shifting colors of his clothing — a shimmer against a green and brown backdrop. He knew his surroundings, but my speed was equal to his. I shot the occasional burst of electricity, setting brush ablaze and crashing limbs to the ground. One blast overshot my mark, passing the flashing form of the elf and exploding a tree in front of us. It was just the break I needed. The elf paused enough for me to plow into him, knocking him into the dirt where we tumbled through smoldering leaves and twigs into a painfully thorny sticker bush.
I’m not much at hand–to–hand combat, and that last blast of lightning seemed to have depleted my powers. I shocked him with what little I had remaining, and he squealed, punching me and squirming to free himself from my grasp. My hands slipped, and he pulled something shiny from his belt, driving a knife toward my chest.
I did what all good women do when facing death. I kneed the guy in the balls. Elves must have testicles of steel. My blow didn’t drop him, but it did cause him to flinch enough that the knife heading for my heart nailed me in the shoulder instead.
It hurt like fuck. I’d never been stabbed before, but I didn’t think it was supposed to burn like a red hot poker through my flesh. The elf pulled the knife free, and with a snarl, clearly planned to attempt a more deadly strike. Before he’d began his downward thrust, I did my second girly thing. I grabbed him by the long blond hair and pulled with all my might.
Evidently, elven scalps are more sensitive than their genitals. A high–pitched scream rent the air, and I rolled to narrowly avoid a second stab. The elf’s weapon plunged deep into the ground, half an inch from my armpit.
This had to stop. Now.
Twisting the silky hair in a fist, I yanked toward the ground, turning the elf’s head and jerking his body sideways. His movement gave me enough room to pull my upper body upright and sink my teeth into the nearest visible flesh. Which happened to be his stupidly big, pointed ear.
Elven ears seemed to be even more sensitive than their scalps. Given that this was a significant erogenous zone for me, I kind of expected the blood–curdling scream that poured from my opponent. He let go the knife, sacrificing both his weapon and his balance to use both hands to pry my teeth from his ear. I let him. Then I snatched the knife from the loamy ground and drove it into his back.
It was like riding the mechanical bull at the rodeo, except from the bottom. One hand in his hair, the other gripping the knife, and my teeth firmly clamped on his ear, I wrapped my legs tight around him and held on like
the good ‘ole country gal I was. He screamed and thrashed. Bits of foliage magically grew and twined around my body, trying to yank me from him like ropey hands. I wanted to pull the knife out to stab him again, but was afraid of losing my grip and slim advantage. My arms shook with the effort to hold on, vines digging into the flesh of my back and stomach. The wound in my shoulder burned and throbbed, and I felt my hold on the knife slip.
The elf lurched free. Everything went blurry as my injured shoulder slammed into the ground, and I was vaguely aware of the elf jumping away in preparation for a mad dash through the woods. I’d never catch him this time. I was spent. Hooking a leg around his, I managed to trip him and send him sprawling backward. The knife hilt protruding from his back slammed against a tree. The elf paled in agony as the weapon flew from his flesh, ripping out a chunk of skin and muscle.
Shaking off my dizziness, I dove for him, but my arms closed around nothing but air. I wasn’t sure if the elf had found an inner reserve and managed to run for freedom, or had somehow teleported. The amount of blood on the ground would normally have signified a mortal wound, but Irix had told me that elves had the power to heal themselves. If so, this guy would soon have reinforcements heading our way, and they would probably be better armed.
I wiped my bloodied hands onto a patch of moss and pocketed the knife. I needed to find Irix and get us the fuck out of here, and back to New Orleans. Only one problem. With my mad dash through the forest, I hadn’t paid enough attention to my surroundings. I had no idea how to find Irix.
I was lost. In Hel.
* * *
32
I read somewhere that whenever you’re lost in the wilderness, you should stay put so rescuers can find you. I was pretty sure there weren’t any search parties in Hel — at least none I wanted to encounter. Staying put seemed especially hazardous given that the elf–that–got–away was probably going to direct his buddies to this location. Facing vengeful elves was about as high on my wish list as facing a firing squad.