"You fed off my fiancé? That will get you dead, demon or not."
I didn't have much strength left, and the old demon was more agile than he appeared.
He sprang up and dodged my next kick. "She be looking for you. I be helping her. Where she be?"
One last punch that grazed off his shoulder, and I fell back, spent. "She's trapped. The dragon has her, all because of you."
"Oh, that not be good. Need her."
I stood. "I'm going back. If he won't release her, I'll stay with her. I'm not letting her live down there alone." I helped Dean to his feet. "Go back with the stone. Take Donna. Tell Mom and Dad and Tammy I'm sorry."
Dean shook his head. "Not leaving you, bro, but I'll help you any other way I can."
The demon paced with the torch. "You love her this much? That you be staying here with her?"
"Without question." That wasn't to say it would be easy. The unspeakable agony of being here made it all the more urgent that I save Rose.
"There might be way for you to defeat dragon and save girl for real. You do this, I release her from promise and you all go home."
I'd been here long enough to know demons only made deals when they got something in return, usually at the other person's expense. "What's in it for you?"
"Dragon eat all our food. You kill it, we get more food. Win-win, no? I get food, I no need girl."
What he said made sense, and though I'd learned to never trust a demon, I had few choices. Go back and live in eternal torment with Rose, or risk trusting a demon in hopes of saving us all.
"What do I need to do?"
"I show you. Come with me. Friends stay here and rest." The demon walked away without a glance at us.
I turned to Dean and Donna. They both looked ready to pass out. "Dean, will you be okay here alone?" I hated to leave them, but they weren't capable of keeping up. I barely had the energy to move, and I hadn't suffered here nearly as long.
Dean nodded. "Go, man. We'll be okay. Save Rose."
I'd have to hurry. Every second I wasted, Rose was being tortured and Dean was put at greater risk of discovery.
Following the demon down a long corridor, I stretched my cramped body, letting muscles flex and relax. With no idea of what my task would entail, I had to prepare for anything and everything.
Pulling my thoughts from Rose, her sacrifice and pain, proved the hardest part for me.
Bankun led us through a maze. Right. Left. Left. Right. I did my best to track each turn, but it all looked the same —brick red walls with greying outer edges, stone that could have been older than time and maybe was. I couldn't have gotten myself out of there alone, which made me once again dependent on a demon.
Great.
At the next turn, we stopped in front of a door carved in intricate detail with the most hideous and evil face I'd ever seen.
I expected Bankun to open it, or maybe use a key, but instead he chanted words under his breath.
A translucent red dust floated out of his mouth, hovering in the space between him and the door until he spoke the last word, and the dust pushed itself into the mouth of the face.
Like a hallucinatory nightmare, the closed eyes opened, wood reshaping like putty in a sculptures hand. The rest of the face twitched, as if something lived beneath it.
Bankun straightened, his features changing, his bearing becoming more assertive. "I claim the blood oath you owe me, Az. Let us in." Even his voice had changed, dropping an octave and carrying more power.
The face in the door, Az, yawned. "I do this and we are done." Its eyes shifted to me. "Is he the one?"
Bankun nodded.
Az squinted and scrunched his wooden brows as if he'd eaten a lemon. "Are you sure? He looks puny."
My ego would have been bruised if I gave a rats' ass about what these two assholes thought of me. Instead, I waited and watched with no idea of what they were talking about.
"Just let us in, Az. He's the one. He has to be. If he doesn't succeed, he and his woman will spend their lives in the care of the great dragon himself. You see, he's very motivated." Bankun had dropped his fumbling speech habits and adopted a more refined way of speaking.
I wondered why. Who was he trying to trick?
"Very well," Az said. "It's your fate. Don't come knocking again after this."
The door swung open, and bright white light blinded me. Even if I hadn't spent what felt like an eternity in this dark pit of a dimension, this light would have been fierce and aggressive, like the sun on steroids.
Bankun's claws dug into my bicep, dragging me forward as I blinked, trying to see beyond the impossible whiteness. "What is this place?"
"Our place of power. It holds the secrets of our kind, and the strength you need to defeat the dragon and rescue your girl."
I stopped, refusing to take another step. "This is the big plan? You want me to use demon magic? No way."
"You and your girl like to put up a fight, but in the end, you'll do as I say."
The light faded, and my eyes adjusted. An iron pedestal stood in the corner of the room. On the pedestal sat a large book of spells more ancient looking than anything my dad had in his collection. White light glowed from its pages, filling the room. Other than the book and pedestal, the room was empty, the walls carved with ancient symbols that pulsed with the same light.
Bankun walked to the tomb and caressed its pages like a lover. "How I've missed the feel of her pages beneath my fingers." It didn't take him long to locate the exact page he needed.
I planned to protest, to argue that there had to be another way. Who knew what demon magic would do to me?
But he waved his hands, and an image appeared in smoke. Rose, chained and nearly naked, locked in a cage, screaming and digging her nails into the stone ground as blood dripped from them. "This is her fate forever if you turn me down again. What shall it be?"
None of the pain I'd suffered at the dragon's hands compared to the agony that tore at me as I watched the love of my life being destroyed. "What will this power to do me?"
"It will give you the strength to destroy the dragon and save Rose."
I inched closer to the book, trying to read the words. "At what cost to me?" No power came without a price.
He drew a knife from a hidden fold in his robe. "All I need is a vial of your blood to complete the spell."
I knew he wasn't telling me the whole story, but still I held out my arm.
I didn't even feel the cut. Blood pooled directly onto the page with the spell. The book's magic absorbed it, sucking it in like a sponge. Bankun cut his own arm and let it feed the book as well, then chanted in his demon language.
The white light hovered around me, then seeped into my skin, and I dropped to my knees, screaming as my veins burned like acid. With each heart beat the pain worsened, as if my body was killing itself from the inside out.
Darkness blinded me, and I collapsed to the ground.
When I regained consciousness, I was alone. I called for the traitorous demon, but he was nowhere to be seen. The book had been placed back on the pedestal, still emitting its light, but I found I could see more clearly, as if my eyes had changed to adapt to the magic.
I approached the door, and it opened without prompting, then slammed shut behind me.
Az gave me an appraising look. "You are stronger than I gave you credit for, human. Bankun will be pleased."
"Speaking of him, where'd he go? I need to get out of her and get to Rose."
"He will not be returning, but I will direct you. Follow the echoes and find your mate. Best of luck to you both." With that incredibly unhelpful advice, he turned back to wood.
Follow the echoes? What did that even mean? What echoes?
I walked in the direction I thought I'd come in from, listening with extreme focus. A low rumble filled my mind, almost imagined but not quite. It increased in volume until the screams became more distinct. They bounced off the walls, echoing through the corridors.
Were these the ech
oes I was meant to follow? I mentally reviewed the directions I'd memorized coming in and compared them to where the echoes led me. As far as I could tell, this was the correct way.
I picked up my pace, jogging instead of walking, knowing that one of those screams belonged to Rose. That knowledge sliced through me sharper than any knife.
At the end of the maze, I had two choices remaining: right or left. My memory told me left, but the echoes told me right.
Weighing my choices, looking in both directions for any clues, I closed my eyes, then decided.
Right.
Instead of sneaking in through the back way, as Rose had, I walked straight into the mouth of the dungeon and headlong into the dragon.
We faced each other, and I wondered how exactly this new power worked. Was I stronger? I didn't particularly feel it. Fake it 'til you make it, right? I had to at least act like I knew what the hell I was doing. "Give me Rose back. Now. I'm not leaving without her."
The dragon laughed. "Then you're not leaving, human. That's fine with me. You still have plenty of meals left in you."
"Release her, and we can both avoid a fight you won't win."
Now he roared with amusement. "I will give you credit for bravery, if not intelligence."
"Derek, no. Leave!" Rose.
I turned and saw her, tears streaking down her beautiful face.
The dragon used that distraction to swipe at me with his claws, cutting four stripes of flesh off my chest.
Rose screamed. I may have, too, but I couldn't tell.
Red filled my vision, and then I felt it. The power. The change. The strength.
I roared in rage and dove toward the dragon, ready to fight, ready to kill. A blood lust I'd never imagined took over.
Dodging another blow from the beast, I slid under him and punched through his chest, my fist breaking through muscle and bone and thick skin until I reached his heart. Pulling it out, drenched in his green, sticky blood, no thought at all to anything but the thrumming in my ears, I held the heart up to my face and bit into it, more power flooding into me.
"Derek! Derek stop!"
The voice, that voice. I knew that voice.
But the blood called to me.
"Derek!"
I turned, my eyes focusing on one girl, tattered and beaten. Why did my heart hitch at the sight of her?
"Look at me, Derek. It's me, Rose. I love you. Please stop. This isn't you."
I dropped the heart, moving toward her. Rose. I knew her. I loved her.
The thrumming faded and memory returned. I vomited up my recent meal, disgusted with myself and panicked about what this demon magic had done to me.
I didn't need the key to pull the lock free from Rose's cage.
She grabbed onto me, holding me close, her touch breaking through the last hold the blood lust had on me.
I sobbed into her hair. "Oh my God, Rose, I'm so sorry."
"Shh, it's okay. Let's just get our of here, okay?"
We ran out the front and found Dean and Donna where I had left them. "We need a fire pit to throw this rock into."
I was so glad I still had it, after all this.
Dean hugged Rose and then helped Donna up, who wouldn't talk or look at any of us.
We didn't have time to worry about her.
Finding the first fire pit we could, I threw the rock into it and prayed we weren't about to burn ourselves alive. On the count of three, we all jumped in.
FIFTEEN
Daggers in Men's Smiles
ROSE
There's daggers in men's smiles.
— William Shakespeare, Macbeth
FIRES BORN IN the pit of hell burned my bones and flesh, melting my corporeal form and leaving only my soul as it slammed back into my body still laying on the cold winter earth in Derek's rose garden.
Air rushed into my lungs, and I choked and sat up, dizzy and nauseous and burning on the inside while frost nipped at my skin.
"Derek! I need to see Derek."
Blake reached for me, but I pushed him away, limping, then running back to the house as Blake, Father Patrick and Drake chased after me.
"Derek!" I hollered for him as I threw open the door and ran upstairs. "Are you okay? Derek?"
He met me in the hall, body whole and free of gore and demon blood. I banished those gruesome memories from my mind as he picked me up in a tight embrace.
"Rose. Don't ever put yourself in danger like that again." Water welled in his eyes. "But thank you for saving us."
Our kiss tasted of tears, our passion taking over so quickly I forgot how we got in this mess to begin with. My power pushed out, reaching for me, and before I could pull back, fear gripping my heart, the power retreated back into me.
My eyes widened. "How… ? Why didn't that hurt you?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe the demon dimension made me immune?"
"That would really help our problems, but—"
"—Bastard!" Derek roared past my shoulder.
Blake stood behind me by the door, his face frozen in neutral, but sadness clear in his eyes.
Derek's arms tightened around me, leaving marks in my skin. His rage startled me.
"What's wrong? Relax, he's here to help."
Pushing me aside, Derek body slammed a surprised Blake, landing on him and punching him repeatedly.
I screamed and tried to pull Derek off, but he backhanded me, throwing me against the wall. It took his dad, brother and two cousins to drag him away. He'd started shifting, but couldn't complete the process—a small blessing in that moment, though terrible all the same.
Blake lay bleeding and unconscious on the ground. He'd barely healed from the last beating he'd gotten from the wolves, now this. Jasmine ran to him sobbing, and she and Lauren carried him to a bedroom.
Ocean embraced me. "What the hell was that?"
I winced at the pain in my jaw when I opened my mouth to talk. "I don't know. But things got pretty scary with the demons."
Derek collapsed to the ground, sobbing in his hands. "What? What? I don't understand what you want me to do."
I ran to him, shrugging off my best friend who tried to stop me. "Derek, honey, who are you talking to?"
Eyes glazed over, glowing with a white light, he gripped my shoulders. "Did I kill him? Is he dead? I killed him, didn't I? Rose, what am I becoming?"
Lauren returned, shaking her head.
"No," I assured him. "He'll live."
I helped him up and walked him to the living room. Lauren brought us tea, and Tammy sat with Dean, holding his hands and looking up at him every few seconds as if he would disappear. This hadn't been the reunion we'd all hoped for, but he'd been hugged and cried over by his family in the midst of this fresh drama.
Dean gave me a half-smile and mouthed "thank you." I had no idea what long-term damage he would suffer from being trapped there that long, but physically he looked better now that his soul and body were reunited.
David studied his sons. "Tell me everything that happened while you were there. Leave nothing out."
I told as much of the story as I knew, then sat, slack-jawed as Derek filled in the blanks.
"You took demon magic? Is that why my power doesn't affect you now?" I couldn't judge him. I'd been willing to make deals with the devil to save him, so it made sense he would do the same for me. But what if he had changed in some core way that couldn't be fixed?
Father Patrick crossed his chest with the sign of the cross. "I'm afraid the boy is being consumed by blood magic. Unless we can reverse what was done to him, it will only get worse, until it destroys him, and in the process, destroys everyone he loves."
SIXTEEN
Something Wicked This Way Comes
ROSE
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
— William Shakespeare, Macbeth
"YOU WANT TO do an exorcism on him? Isn't that dangerous?" It wasn't like he was possessed, was it? I t
rusted Father Patrick, but Derek had already been through so much.
"I'll do it," Derek said.
He put his arm around me, and I leaned into him. "Derek, maybe we should talk about this?"
"There's nothing to talk about. I can feel something inside of me, and I want it out. I remember what I did there, and what I did here. I'm too dangerous."
An idea occurred to me, one that carried my deepest hope with it. "Father, if this works, could you try it with me? To remove my demon powers?"
The priest shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rose. We thought of that, but it's a part of you, not a possession. I can't change the essence of who you are."
Dashed hopes shattered in my heart like glass dropping pickles. "I understand."
Derek sat on the chair in the center of the room, and Father Patrick strapped him to the chair with rope. "Just as a precaution," he assured us.
Blake had joined us, sitting with Jasmine on the far side of the area, but staring at me whenever I looked his way. The rest of the family and Ocean had taken their seats, waiting and watching.
It seemed in dealings with spirits there was always a sacred book and always a ritual.
Oh, and blood, there was always blood.
This time it was a Latin Bible, and the blood of the priest to symbolize Christ's blood.
Holy water. The crucifix. Latin chanting.
How was this any different from the demons? From witchcraft? From magic? It all relied on faith, on relics imbued with power, on words that shaped reality.
Nothing happened those first few moments as Father Patrick chanted, splashing holy water on Derek and drawing the sign of the cross with blood on his forehead.
I expected something dramatic, like in the movies. Maybe Derek's head would whip around unnaturally, or he'd shriek in demon languages, but he sat there quietly, like a child listening to a Sunday School lesson.
The transformation happened in increments. I noticed because I knew him so well, had memorized every expression, every line of his face.
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