Hellforged d-2

by Nancy Holzner

  And so three races were born with these events. Taliesin’s descendants were the Cerddorion. Avagddu fathered a race of demi-demons, the Meibion Avagddu, or Sons of Utter Darkness. And each searing, poisonous, iron-hard fragment of the shattered cauldron became a Hellion. The largest of them, Difethwr, remained Avagddu’s companion and chief retainer throughout his life.

  I LOOKED OVER AT MAB, WHO STARED INTO THE FLAMES dancing in the fireplace. I’d been so deeply absorbed in the book, I didn’t notice her build a fire. Her eyes met mine.

  “Are you all right, child?”

  “Yes.” And I was, despite a slight ache behind my eyes from staring at the pages as the book whispered its story in my mind. The story had been familiar, yet different, with its emphasis on Avagddu and demons. In the Mabinogion and the Cerddorion histories I’d read, the whole point of the story was Taliesin’s birth. To the norms, Taliesin was a hero and the greatest Welsh bard. To the Cerddorion, he was the first member of a glorious race of shapeshifters. But in The Book of Utter Darkness, Taliesin was the enemy.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of the Meibion Avagddu,” I said. “What are demi-demons?”

  “They’re half demon, just as you are half human. Their shapeshifting powers are different. They have a human form, which enables them to move about in daylight. But they cannot turn into other creatures, as we can. Rather, they have shadow demons. That means they can assume their demonic form from twilight until dawn. But even in full daylight, the demonic half shadows them, following them in the demon plane.”

  She held out her hand for the book. I was happy to pass it to her. As she took it, a cool, soothing sensation spread over my demon mark, like aloe vera on sunburn.

  “The Meibion Avagddu are a depleted race,” Mab continued, holding the book in her lap and smoothing a hand across its pale cover. “Their females are barren. The males sometimes mate with human women, but two-thirds of the children from such couplings are stillborn. Of those born alive, half die in infancy.”

  “Is that why I’ve never run into any?” Then I realized. I had run into one—who’d said we shared a common ancestor although he wasn’t Cerddorion. “Pryce is a demi-demon.”

  She looked pleased I’d managed to put two and two together. “A powerful one. He fancies himself the leader of the Meibion Avagddu.”

  Great. Sworn enemy of the Cerddorion and humans alike. And I’d hitched a ride with him. “He told me he was my cousin.”

  “Do not trust him. Whatever Pryce says, he means harm—always. Remember that.”

  I needed to read up on this other branch of the family, so I asked Mab for a book about the Meibion Avagddu. To my surprise, she told me my lessons were done for the day. “Your only text will be The Book of Utter Darkness. Your study of it can proceed only as the book is forced to reveal itself to you.”

  It would be a lot easier if I could just get the Cliffs Notes. “How do I force it?”

  “Not through effort. ‘Force’ was the wrong word, perhaps, because the things we associate with physical force—violence, weapons—have no power over the book. Rather, they feed it. You, yourself, must become such that the book can no longer resist you.”

  “That sounds awfully Zen for a demon fighter.”

  The corners of Mab’s mouth twitched in a tiny half-smile. “Binding the Destroyer to yourself was the first step. And that part is done; you need not deepen that connection. Now, you must focus on purity.”

  Purity. That shouldn’t be too hard. Kane was absorbed in his case and Daniel, except for that one heart-thumping kiss, kept his distance. Anyway, both of them were on the wrong side of the Atlantic.

  Mab noticed my blush. “I don’t mean physical purity, Victory. You must be purely yourself. That’s the simplest thing in the world, yet not as simple as it sounds. You bear a Hellion’s mark, and you’ve put your own mark upon the Hellion in turn.”

  My heart sank. “It’s a lost cause, then. I’m contaminated.”

  “No. The Hellion’s essence marks you, it’s true. But in the marking were the seeds of your purity. Only because you’ve been marked can you gain real purity.”

  Whoa, definitely Zen. As in making your head hurt if you tried to make sense of it.

  She reached over and patted my hand, then stood. “Now, spend the afternoon as you wish. Sleep if you like; you may find the book drains you. Take a walk. Or go visit Mr. Cadogan at the pub—but keep your distance from Pryce. Would you like Jenkins to drive you to the village?”

  “No, I don’t feel up to socializing. But a walk sounds good.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

  I lifted my jacket from the peg by the kitchen door and stepped out into a damp, gray day. Turning up my collar, I thought about what I had to do: Keep from dreaming, read a book written in a language I didn’t understand, and become pure through contamination. Piece of cake.

  18

  THE SUN STRUGGLED TO PUSH THROUGH THE CLOUDS AS I crossed Maenllyd’s sloping back lawn, heading toward the woods behind the house, where a public footpath would take me across neighboring fields and through more woods. The wind rattled tree branches and carried a scent of damp earth. The air was warm enough that yesterday’s powdering of snow had vanished.

  As I walked, I tried to figure out what Mab meant about being pure. I climbed a stile over a stone wall to follow the path through a field, scattering a flock of sheep as I went. As the sheep broke and ran, I thought about how they were effortlessly pure, each one true to its nature as a sheep. The color of this animal’s fleece or whether that one had a long nose—none of that mattered. Each was simply what it was.

  Well, hooray for the sheep.

  Easy for them. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t be pure. That polluting Hellion essence was inside me, an ugly, permanent blot on my soul. Like a stain that would never come out no matter how much you scrubbed. I was marked by the Destroyer’s essence, and now I’d learned that essence was the Morfran. Those rages I’d suffered for ten years—yeah, “spirit of destructive hunger” described them perfectly.

  I was polluted by the very thing I hoped to defeat.

  You must be purely yourself. The burden of Mab’s words weighed on me like some kind of metaphysical backpack loaded with metaphysical bricks.

  Forget it. I gave up thinking about purity and focused on recent events. Three zombies were dead, killed by the Morfran. Difethwr seized on our bond to invade any dreamscape where I was, using me as a lens to focus the Morfran, to send it after the last zombie I’d spoken to before I went off to dream-land. For now, thanks to Mab’s tea, the zombies were safe. But Mab said the tea was only a stopgap. We had to find something more permanent.

  Preferably something that didn’t involve being pure, because I sucked at that.

  “Hello, cousin.”

  I whipped around and slammed him in the chest with an elbow strike before I realized it was Pryce. He grunted and staggered back, a hand on his chest. Two seconds ago, I’d been alone on the path.

  “Where in hell did you come from?”

  “In a manner of speaking, you could say that, yes,” he gasped.

  His answer made no sense, but I wasn’t going to ask for an explanation. I wasn’t going to apologize, either. He shouldn’t have snuck up on me. Anyway, Mab said to avoid Pryce, and that was my plan. I moved past him and kept walking. A moment later, he fell into step beside me.

  He wore gray trousers and a black cashmere sweater—no coat—and he carried a carved staff, using it as a walking stick. His shiny black shoes weren’t exactly hiking boots, but his feet seemed to glide over the trail.

  “Go away,” I said. He didn’t reply, keeping pace at my side. Short of running down the trail like a crazy woman, I couldn’t do much to avoid him. I just wouldn’t talk to him.

  But Pryce wasn’t interested in talking. He didn’t say a word. We came to a place where the footpath crossed a country lane. I turned right, onto the road. Half a mile along wa
s another path that would take me back to Maenllyd. Pryce turned with me.

  I stopped and faced him. “What do you want?”

  His face was all innocent puzzlement. “Same as you, I’d imagine. I’m out for a walk.”

  “Well, I’m out for a solitary walk. So you can take a hike. But not with me.” I started down the lane, away from him. Immediately he was beside me again.

  “You do speak English, right?” I said.

  “There’s no need for enmity between us, cousin. I’d prefer we were friends.”

  “I’m not your cousin.” I walked faster, but he kept up with me.

  After several tense, silent minutes, we reached a gate in a low stone wall—the entry to the footpath back to Maenllyd. I turned to tell him again to get lost, but he spoke first.

  “You’ve begun reading The Book of Utter Darkness.”

  “How do you know that?” I thought of my demon mark’s reaction when I touched the book. “Did your pet Hellion tell you?”

  He grabbed my arm, digging in his fingers. “Difethwr is no one’s pet. Make no mistake about that.” His dark eyes pulled at mine. “Things that happen in Uffern—what you call the demon plane—are within my purview. That book, stolen by your aunt, belongs to Uffern. I’ve allowed her to keep it because I was waiting for you to find it again. It’s more than ten years since you last touched it.”

  Ten years since the night my father died. The pain hit me as raw as it had that night. I leaned against the stone wall. I pictured my father, crumpled in a heap on the library carpet, his body so still. He looked unhurt, but the Destroyer’s flames burned inside him. My fault. It was all my fault. He’d died trying to protect me after I’d taken down that damned book. Mab didn’t understand how hard it was for me to read it now.

  Pryce’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I wanted to push it away, but the contact felt good—solid, comforting. When I didn’t move, the hand settled a little more firmly. At that, I did shake it off.

  “Mab doesn’t understand,” Pryce said.

  Could demi-demons read minds? Or maybe he knew what it felt like to lose someone. I searched his face. It was hard to read; his grim mouth and eyes gave nothing away. But I didn’t detect any malice there. He wanted to be friends, he’d said. Maybe he meant it. To overcome centuries of hatred, someone had to make the first move.

  Maybe Mab didn’t understand everything. Pryce didn’t seem hostile. He’d given me a lift when I was stranded at the train station, and he hadn’t even hit back when I nailed him with my elbow. I’d talk to him, cautiously. Maybe I’d learn something. He held the gate open, gesturing me through with his staff. We started across the field.

  “So, you’re a demi-demon?” Great conversation starter, Vicky.

  “I prefer the term Meibion Avagddu, the Sons of Avagddu.”

  “You mean the Sons of Utter Darkness.”

  He shrugged. “My ancestor didn’t choose his name any more than you chose to be called Victory.”

  True. My father had given me that name, thanks to a prophetic dream he had before I was born. But I didn’t want to talk about me. “You said the Destroyer is no one’s pet. What’s your relationship with it?”

  “The alliance between Hellions and the Meibion Avagddu is as old as our kinds. We cooperate to our mutual benefit.”

  “Hellions don’t cooperate with anyone.”

  “With anyone human, you mean. Hellions, like the Meibion Avagddu, are sworn enemies of humankind. That makes us natural allies.”

  “And it makes you and me natural enemies.” I was a demi-human, after all.

  His smile was tight, private. “After Gwion stole the potion, Ceridwen wanted to destroy the cauldron, and with it all Hellions. You can’t blame them for hating her—and the descendants she favored. But there’s no need for my branch of the family to be at war with yours.”

  “That’s not what the book says. Do the words eternal enmity ring a bell?”

  “What does ‘eternal’ mean, really? Not much. Times do change.” His dark eyes drilled into mine; it was like staring into the depths of a cave. “Wouldn’t you prefer reconciliation?”

  Those eyes creeped me out. I looked away, at some sheep grazing far across the field.

  “My ancestor Avagddu was a powerful spirit,” Pryce continued. “He was furious to find himself in the weak, helpless body of an infant. His cries were howls of rage and a hunger for the power that was rightfully his.”

  “I can’t see Avagddu as a victim. Those howls created the Morfran.” And I’d seen firsthand what the Morfran could do.

  “The time has come for the Morfran to reemerge.” He stated it as a fact, like the time had come for lunch. “For centuries, the Morfran has been weak. Imprisoned by your kind and kept from feeding. Its hunger is never sated, but when it cannot feed at all …” He let the thought trail off. “It’s been difficult. The condition of the Morfran is the condition of those who dwell in Uffern. We have been greatly weakened.”

  And that’s a good thing. “But you’re not a demon. Only half.”

  “Ah, but in that half lies all my power. I take this form in the Ordinary—that’s what we call your world—but I draw strength from Cysgod in Uffern.”

  Cysgod was Welsh for “shadow”—I knew that one. “Cysgod is your shadow demon?”

  “I prefer to say the greater, stronger part of me that’s not limited to this pathetic human form. Where you and I stand now, here in the Ordinary, Cysgod is no more than a shadow. But if you were to peek into Uffern, you’d see my demon side in all its glory.”

  Something in his expression made me wary. “I’m not a big fan of hanging out in the demon plane.”

  “Another time.” From the way he said it, he thought it was a sure thing.

  “So this shadow demon of yours—Cysgod—is weak now.”

  “ ‘ Weak’ is a relative term, is it not? Cysgod is exponentially stronger than any human. But no, that part of me is not at full strength. As the Morfran feeds, Cysgod will grow stronger.”

  “It’s you.” I stopped and stared at him. “You sent the Destroyer into my dreams. You’re behind the Morfran attacks.”

  “I’m doing what I can to bring an ancient prophecy to pass.” He ducked his head, like I’d complimented him and he was trying to be modest. “The Meibion Avagddu have waited centuries for the prophecy’s fulfillment. The first sign was the creation of your so-called zombies in Boston. They are food for the Morfran.”

  They’re people, not food. I thought about T.J.’s easy grin. About how Gary’s bloodred eyes lit up at the prospect of talking Shakespeare with Juliet. About the look of determination on Sykes’s face as he turned away from freshly spilled human blood.

  “This conversation is over. Reconciliation is impossible. I’ll do whatever I can to stop you.” I walked away from him, toward Maenllyd. He stuck with me.

  “But cousin, you’ve already helped us. We couldn’t act until you brought the second sign to pass, binding Difethwr to yourself. When you did that, you created the bridge we needed between Uffern and the Ordinary. Since then, we’ve been gathering the Morfran and sending it to Boston to feed.”

  “You can give up on that plan. I’m not letting you use me anymore.”

  “It won’t be your choice.” His tone was ominous. “Soon we’ll no longer need a bridge.” Then his voice lightened again, and he sounded almost cheerful. “They’re in the book, all the signs and prophecies. Keep studying it. You’ll understand.”

  Now I knew why Mab insisted that it was necessary for me to read that book. Pryce was using it like a road map. A new order rises. The Morfran emerges, and Uffern spills over its boundaries. The Brenin steps forward. He believed its prophecies pointed him toward power, that he was destined to expand Hell and become its king. My so-called cousin had serious ego issues.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep studying, but only to learn how to defeat you.” And Difethwr. And the Morfran.

  That made him laugh. “I’ve never unde
rstood the Cerddorion insistence on helping humans. They fostered your ancestor Taliesin, but so what? It’s proper for the weak to serve those more powerful. Yet Taliesin subverted the natural order and served humans instead. As have all the Cerddorion since.”

  He grabbed my arm, yanking me a stop. His voice hissed in my ear. “Don’t you feel it’s wrong that humans run everything? They are weak, stupid herd animals, like those sheep.” He pointed at the grazing animals. “You and I, cousin, we’re descended from a goddess. We are greater, stronger. But through sheer numbers and dumb luck—and Cerddorion support—humans have unjustly seized rulership of the world.”

  I shook my arm loose. “I told you, I’m not your cousin.”

  “But surely you wish to be counted among the strong, the powerful. The time of weakness—the humans’ time—is passing. The Morfran’s emergence ensures that the descendants of Ceridwen finally assume their rightful place in the new world order.”

  “And I suppose you’re the natural leader of this ‘new world order.’ ”

  “Of course. But not myself alone.” He jumped in front of me and bowed low. “It is your destiny to share that power with me.”

  This time I was the one to laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  His face was completely serious. “You cannot escape your destiny. No one can.”

  “Oh, and you know my destiny?”

  “Of course. Your father wasn’t the only one who received a prophecy before your birth. I did, as well.”

  “Now I know you’re kidding.” I scrutinized his face. It was unlined, and his black hair was full and thick. “You couldn’t have been more than a couple of years old when I was born.”

  “I’m much older than I appear. As is your aunt, by the way.”

  “Don’t talk to me about Mab. I’m not interested in anything you say about her.”