When he was younger, Salvador used to wish for a different family, one that allowed him to have friends who weren’t blood relatives. Now what he longed for was companionship. Something like what Alec had, although perhaps with someone less terrifying.
However, it wasn’t in the cards. His family might have disowned him, but they still tried to exert their influence in his life. Any partner he took would be subject to their scrutiny. If his parents found out he had taken a wife without their consent, it would be bad enough. A partner they disapproved of would be even worse.
And Mother forbid I ever have children. His family would never let him live in peace if he fathered a child. That was why he’d decided never to marry. Salvador even avoided relationships where there might be the risk of accidental procreation. He had been celibate most of his adult life—he was that determined his tiny branch of the family tree would die out with him.
He had no illusions his little rebellion would make a difference. Not in the grand scheme of things. Salvador was an only child—the firstborn son of the sitting family patriarch—but the Delavordo family was extensive. He had relatives on every continent, enough to ensure their way of life would continue regardless of what he did. But it didn’t matter. At least he’d spare his potential progeny the childhood he’d had learning to dance at the edge of the black.
“Have you ever astral projected?” Alec asked, breaking Salvador’s reverie.
“Um… I’m not sure.”
His friend raised his head, looking at him strangely. Salvador shrugged. “I tried it in my early twenties. It certainly felt as if it worked. I flew above my body—but I was pretty high at the time. I never tried it again.”
“Well, I can get some weed if you think it will help… Maybe some LSD if you need it.”
Salvador grimaced. “I think not. This is either going to work sober or not at all.”
Alec hummed noncommittally, but his eyes appeared skeptical. “I think we’re ready,” he announced.
Salvador blinked, then jumped. In the space between seconds, he’d been surrounded by Elementals.
I didn’t even hear them move. He cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. A lesser man would have peed his pants, but his jockeys were dry as a bone. It was a small comfort, but a comfort, nonetheless.
Alec stood behind and a bit to the right of Diana, holding the bowl of animae anchorum, the spell mix needed to paint the sacred symbols over Salvador’s head and heart, marking him on both the physical and astral plane. According to his research, this step was normally not necessary since most disembodied souls stayed close to their bodies. But after Gia’s soul had gone missing, he wasn’t taking any chances. If he got lost, the runes would act as a beacon, allowing him to find his way back home.
“Strip,” Serin ordered, taking the bowl from Alec.
A flush crept up Salvador’s neck, although he couldn’t say why. Salvador swam and hiked on a regular basis—sometimes to gather ingredients, but mostly for recreation. There wasn’t much else to do for entertainment in these parts.
He also chopped his own firewood. His lean body was nothing to be ashamed of, but the women surrounding him were some of the most gorgeous creatures he’d ever seen. The fact they were also the most dangerous only seemed to enhance that.
When someone pointedly cleared their throat, he coughed, unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed it aside, then stood with arms akimbo so Serin could start.
Grinning, the Air Elemental whistled. His blush deepened, and Logan smirked.
“Hey,” Connell growled, poking her in the back.
“What?” She laughed. “He’s pretty… and cut. His six-pack is almost as fine as yours.”
That only made her werewolf mate growl louder. “I don’t have a six-pack. Mine’s a ten.”
Serin ignored the interplay, dipping her brush into the animae anchorum. Lifting the paintbrush, she put the first whorl on his forehead, finishing quickly before lowering it into the bowl again so she could complete the more elaborate rune on his chest.
“Are we clear on the plan, Sal?” Diana asked.
“Yes,” Salvador murmured, cringing at the shortened use of his name. Although his closest friends used the nickname, he hated how it sounded out loud.
When Diana noticed, she smirked, and he knew asking her not to call him that was a lost cause. “Provided you have something to serve as a talisman for Gia,” he finished, trying not to sound sullen.
Getting to the astral plane was step one. Finding Gia was a whole other story.
“I sent Logan to Gia’s ancestral home. I think we found something that will work.”
The Air Elemental fished around in her pocket, then withdrew a necklace. Made of leather, it was woven with a brass-colored metal that might have been a dull gold.
When he took it in his hands, he immediately felt the history and a sense of quiet power. “This is extremely old, far more so than the condition of the leather would suggest.”
Serin inclined her head. “Gia’s father made this for her mother as a betrothal gift. And it is old. He was one of Cortés’ men.”
Salvador drew his head back, startled. “Cortés as in Hernán Cortés?”
“Yup,” Logan said, leaning in to secure it around his neck. On him, the piece was tight, more like a choker, but he didn’t find it constrictive. The pressure was oddly comforting, although he was having a difficult time processing what the women had said.
“The same Hernán Cortés who conquered the Aztecs?” he asked in disbelief.
“One and the same,” Serin murmured, moving the brush over his heart. Diana observed them, her arms crossed. “His name was Leocadio, and he’s been written out of history because he abandoned the cause when the plan to overthrow Montezuma was first suggested. He was an explorer, not a murderer, and wanted nothing to do with the conquest of an entire civilization. Leocadio wandered the countryside for over a year until he heard rumors of a healer of such renown that her abilities were considered magical. That was Gia’s mother. We only know her by the name he gave her—Macaria.”
Damn. Salvador took a deep breath, fingering the woven neckpiece. He’d known Elementals could live for a long time, but the scale was staggering. Gia was literal living history. And he was wearing a piece of it.
“There’s a companion ring, too, crafted from the same metal,” Serin said, adding a flourish to the design on his chest.
“Is it the one she’s wearing?”
He’d noticed a small band of beaten metal on Gia’s hand. At first, he’d thought it was a wedding ring, but it was on the wrong hand.
“Yes. Given the link between the pieces, we thought it would be a good way to connect the two.”
“You are aware she ‘left’ the ring here when her soul went walkabout, correct?” he said.
“Gia has worn that ring since her parents died, more than three hundred years ago. Her connection to it goes beyond the physical.”
That didn’t seem long enough. Salvador frowned, doing the math in his head. “But didn’t her parents live in the fifteen hundreds? Just how old were they when they passed?”
Witches lived a long time, but two hundred years was pushing it.
Serin’s eye flickered. “Don’t worry about it. Focus on your task. Hold on to the image of the necklace. Use it to find the echo of the companion ring in the other plane—wherever it is.”
Salvador murmured his agreement. That would be easier said than done, but there was no point in saying so aloud. These Elementals weren’t going to change their minds and let him off the hook.
Not long after, Serin finished. Salvador peered down, trying to see the details of the intricate design, but he would need a mirror to take it all in. He didn’t ask for one. It would be insulting to suggest the Elemental didn’t know what she was doing.
He tilted his head from side to side, stretching it. His body would be immobile for who knew how long. He may as well prepare it as best he could.
T
he Earth Elemental had been moved inside his antechamber, returned to almost exactly where she had first appeared. He’d asked for two cots, but Serin had nixed the idea of putting Gia on one. The ground would be her cradle.
“She’s quite comfortable there,” Serin assured him, then ordered a single cot be placed next to Gia.
Salvador circled the cot and Gia’s body, making sure the spell runes they’d drawn on the floor would encompass them both. When he was satisfied, he stepped between the lines of the circle, careful to avoid mussing the lines.
He landed on the cot a little heavily. It made the metal frame squeak loudly in the otherwise-quiet room. The Elementals and their mates surrounded him. He supposed it should have been comforting, knowing they weren’t there to kill him. Regardless, he couldn’t help tensing. As long as he was unconscious, he would be vulnerable.
You’re pretty damn defenseless now, his brain reminded him. but it didn’t help him relax.
“How will we know he has actually left his body and isn’t just asleep?” Logan asked, staring at him as if he were a colorful insect of some kind.
“I added a rune for that,” Serin answered.
“You did?” Salvador couldn’t hide his surprise. He hadn’t known such a rune existed.
“It’s on your forehead,” the Water Elemental said. “It’ll change shape, contracting in on itself when you leave your body. As long as nobody’s home, it’ll stay that way. Once you’re back, it will unfurl again, but I’m hoping we’ll know when you return because you two will wake up.”
That last should have been obvious, but there had been cases where an astral projection went wrong. It had happened in the Delavordo clan actually—probably more than once. He’d heard the cautionary tale as a child. Before he was born, a distant cousin had become trapped in his own body for weeks after he failed to wake up on his own. If Salvador’s mother hadn’t brought the boy to Fulgencio, Salvador’s father, he might never have been roused.
“Some people just don’t have the talent,” Fulgencio had warned, his lip curled. The fact the boy had been a blood relation only increased his father’s disdain. A Delavordo should have known his limits, then broken past them. Failure was not an option.
Well, there’s a first time for everything. He closed his eyes as Diana lit the candles wicks with a wave of her hand. In a low voice, he began to recite the spell. The words washed over him, vibrating in his ears until they became a hum, then a drone. The noise sharpened—a whine that climbed higher until it popped. And then, there was silence.
The next thing Salvador knew, he was gazing at his body, which was below him.
I’m floating. He had done it. Salvador had successfully crossed to the astral place—sober this time.
He tried to touch his neck to see if the necklace was still there, but he couldn’t move his arm. In fact, he couldn’t move anything. Salvador still had a vague sense of his body, but he wasn’t able to control it.
Okay, this might be a problem.
He tried to control his limbs, flailing as if he were swimming. It took all of his focus to shift a few inches. Then he pictured the string of beads and brass around his neck, touching it with his mind.
All right now. Try to reach out to the ring.
That was all he needed. The anteroom of his clinic disappeared in a swirl of color. He hurtled through space, the ground rushing past him at supersonic speed.
Oh shit…
8
Gia ignored the weight in her stomach as she forced herself to pick up the dismembered head. Holding it with her fingertips, she set it on the spike, one of several conveniently embedded in the top of Mammon’s fortress. Of course, she didn’t refer to it as Mammon’s place aloud, not since she’d beheaded the prince and taken over.
Aware of the many eyes on her, she pushed the head down on the spike more securely. It was smaller than the others, but she wasn’t going for quality here. Quantity was what mattered.
Surreptitiously wiping her hands on her shirt, she stepped back as if to admire her handiwork. But her mind was a million miles away.
How long has it been since I died? According to lore, time ran on the same track in Sheol as it did on Earth, but it certainly felt different. A day lasted an eternity.
No matter, she thought, adjusting the last head. She had made the time count.
Gia had fought off wave after wave of demon attacks during those first few days after killing Mammon. News of the demon prince’s overthrow had spread quickly. The neighboring powers wasted no time trying to take advantage, their goal being to claim his territory and the wealth stored in the treasury. But they hadn’t known anything about her.
She had tried keep the body count to a minimum, dispatching only the demons who raised arms against her. But lower demons weren’t too bright, so there had been a fair number. The ones who ran away lived.
Rather than allowing the inhabitants of Sheol to lay siege to the castle, she had opted to surprise them. Gia left the relative safety of the citadel, sneaking out to make a mobile camp. She’d taken the best weapons from armory with her. Some, she’d hid in the wastelands at landmarks she would be able to find again, keeping Mammon’s sword as her primary weapon. Then, she’d circled back and took the fight to the bastards who had come to pick at Mammon’s carcass…and she’d won. But there had been a cost.
A memory, distant and pale, rose to her mind. It was of her parent’s village, when she’d found their bodies lying together in bed. They had passed at the same time…peacefully. Why their deaths were on her mind now was a mystery.
Perhaps because you won’t go quietly yourself? How did this even work? If she died here—again—would she end up someplace else? Another hell dimension? Had Dante been right in some form? Was she trapped in the first circle of hell?
If I am, I really don’t want to see what the others look like.
She wiped her hands on her pants, mentally disassociating from the gruesome tableau she’d just created. You don’t have to concern yourself with your humanity anymore. You’re dead, remember?
“Excuse me, Exalted One,” Snagat interrupted. The little demon who insisted she was his queen skulked up behind her, forcing her mind to the present.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he wheezed, his head low. “I just wanted to know if you would like me to put the other heads up here as well?”
“Please, would you stop calling me that?” Gia sighed. She may have been the de facto ruler of this principality, but she refused to wear the crown. She didn’t care how many jewels it had.
Snagat had been an acolyte of Mammon, the factotum in charge of the fortress. Ever since she’d killed the prince, Snagat been following her around, insisting on referring to her as his liege. Unlike Mammon and his warriors, Snagat was basically harmless, although his constant bowing and scraping was grating, to say the least.
You won’t have to put up with it much longer. Gia had a plan. She had no intention of taking up residence as hell’s newest queen.
Snagat cleared his throat—an awful nails-on-chalkboard scraping sound. “The heads, Your Grace?”
Gia glanced down at the trench below the battlements. It surrounded the castle like a moat, except it was empty. Well, it didn’t have any water. Despite taking care of the large bands of demons, more kept coming, trickling in like rancid sewage. Consequently, the trench had been filling with bodies at a steady rate.
“Yes, go ahead and finish it yourself.” She waved Snagat on.
Mounting the heads was a distasteful necessity. She needed to send a clear message to the neighboring princes whose lands resided farther from Mammon’s territory. The new mistress of Sheol was not to be trifled with.
Of course, the heads on stakes wouldn’t be much of a deterrent if two or more of the princes banded together against her. The demon princes of Sheol were notorious for their infighting, so she had a little time. Eventually, though, they would see her for the threat she was, then send their armies to deal with her.
Snagat bowed and bobbed in acknowledgment of her order.
“I’ll be in the library,” she continued. “Don’t disturb me unless there’s another incursion.”
“Will you be wanting your evening meal served there?”
Gia wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to think about what people in Sheol ate or drank. But that was apparently one of the advantages to being dead. She hadn’t been hungry or thirsty since her arrival. The demons born in this dimension required sustenance, but, so far, she was doing just fine without it.
“No thank you,” she said, eagerly dismissing him. The demon smelled particularly pungent today. “Deal with the bodies, but make sure they’re visible from a distance.”
After he bowed again, she hurried inside to the library.
The minute she closed the door, her shoulders dropped. She took a breath, rolling her neck to loosen the tight muscles.
The library was the only place in the castle she could breathe. It helped the air was cleaner, free from the smoke and ash that filled the skies outside. Also, the presence of so many books was comforting, as long as she ignored their content. And what they were made of…
Sheol was a blasted wasteland. Few trees grew here. The only ones she’d seen around the castle were sad, stunted little things. There wasn’t enough pulp in them for a pamphlet, let alone a book.
Gia gave herself a shake. It wouldn’t do to examine things too closely while she was here. That way lay madness.
The library itself was an opulent space. It had vaulted ceilings at least twenty-feet high with elaborately carved molding that still showed traces of genuine gold leaf—a metal apparently valued everywhere. Strange-smelling candles filled an iron chandelier high above and the few wall sconces.
I wonder what Sheol was like before the demons?
From the ruins dotting the landscape, it appeared as if a more advanced civilization preexisted this feudal wasteland. Her cursory reads on the different hell dimensions let her put a moniker to it—Kasheoli, the name from which Sheol had been derived. But none of the sources mentioned whether Kasheoli had been ruled by other beings or by the demons who currently made this their home. Civil war could explain the status quo, but it could also have been an invasion from another dimension.
The Elementals Collection Page 89