Mentored in Fire

by Breene, K. F.

  Lucifer turned toward the river, scanning where the fog once was. “Whoever it was, they were powerful enough to get through my barrier and rip down my illusions. Check that sect. Get any information you can. I want to know what sort of being has infiltrated my territory. If it is the angels after that accursed druid…” He tightened his hand into a fist. “Just find out who they are and trap them. I will deal with them myself. Their deaths will be a public spectacle.”

  “But the heir enjoys that vampire, sire.”

  “It will be easy to sow mistrust. He’s a vampire, after all. She is probably just addicted to his bite. We will cure her of that. I need to get that druid out of there, though, before he poisons her mind with thoughts of leaving. He will remind her of the life she had. Of her humanity. If that happens, she will go the same way as the last heir. I cannot have that.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Victoria turned to leave.

  “And Victoria?” He waited for her to turn back. “Find that vampire Vlad. Take him to the castle. I would like a word.”

  “How will we keep him here, sire? He is cunning. Able to get out of tight spots.”

  Lucifer’s smile showed his teeth. “Call the most powerful conspectors. They will help me create a barrier not even an angel could tear down. The Underworld is closed until further notice—no one in or out. I want those trespassers—all of them.”

  Eight

  I slowed as I reached the set of double doors that led to my collection of rooms. Brain watery and body weary, I didn’t at first register the pulsing, icy magic covering the wood. I’d stayed in that garden for what felt like days. In reality, it had only been until the sun dimmed and finally went out, not sinking like in the Brink, but dimming in the manner of a ceiling light.

  I could now make a perfect flower. Granted, the colors were probably still off, in Romulus’s opinion anyway, but the details were spot-on. I understood how to achieve that precision now. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t solid, and the whole thing had been incredibly taxing.

  Now, ready for that Underworld whiskey, and maybe a bite to eat because I missed the act, I stopped in front of the ice blockage and wondered, What the fuck? Both sets of double doors had them.

  “It is to keep the druid out,” said my stalker demon with the ridiculous boobs.

  “He has no interest in this place. Ask him to stay where he is, and he’ll stay.” I rubbed my temples.

  “If you didn’t return when he thought you should, it was thought that he might seek you out.”

  I turned to meet the demon’s eyes, and when it lowered its gaze, an unfamiliar spark lit in my middle. Dawning understanding curled through me.

  I was its master. I was its supreme being.

  With Darius, there were people waiting on me, helping me (often against my will), and doing things for me, but they weren’t answering to me. I wasn’t in charge.

  Here, I was in charge. Only my father had more say than me.

  I’d just called him my father.

  “This place is fucking with me,” I said to myself.

  “Yes, your heinous.” The demon bowed.

  I was too tired to figure out if it was agreeing with me, which meant this place was fucking with me on purpose, or if it was acting like a yes-man so I wouldn’t lose it and kill everything in sight.

  I also didn’t really care.

  “Cahal—the druid—is acting in my best interest. If he wants to check on me, he can check on me.”

  “Yes, your heinous. Of course. Except when the Great Master forbids it. And then he will be locked in your rooms.”

  Annoyance flared through me. I continued to stare because I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with that information. Given what I’d seen of Father Dearest today, he would probably accede to my request to allow Cahal some freedom. He’d been incredibly patient and forgiving of my mistakes. Eager to make me happy. He seemed like he’d hear me out.

  But he wasn’t here now, and this creature couldn’t do squat about the situation.

  “Great. Well, then, there is only one thing to do.” I stripped away the simplistic magic, leaving bare the closed and probably locked set of double doors in front of me. Even if they weren’t locked, their fate was written.

  I strode up and kicked out. The sole of my boot connected with the latch area—the sweet spot on heavy, well-made doors.

  Crack.

  Nothing to it. The doors swung open with such force that a hinge tore loose. They flew toward the wall, but hadn’t been designed to go that far. Metal groaned and wood splintered as more hinges tore. The right slab of wood wobbled wildly, and the rest swung back.

  I kicked it again, then took two fast steps and did it again, sinking into my anger. My fury at the elves, at being kidnapped by Lucifer, at Cahal’s treatment, and at my own murky future. When it broke and clattered to the floor, I marched to the other double door, but this time from behind it. From the direction it would swing, had it been opened, just to make it harder.

  More rage to spew, more uncertainty, more fear of what was in store for my friends, who were surely in the Underworld with me, those fools—I kicked harder. Again. Again and again, battering the thing even though it had nowhere to go. The lock broke, then the handles. It bounced against the frame and came back, only to be kicked again. Once more. My boot opened up a hole. The hinges loosened from being jammed so hard, released, and jammed again.

  Finally, sweaty and depleted, I stepped back, my body burning because I was trying to suck in air.

  “And another thing!” I looked upward, the ceiling in my way. Two thick jets of hellfire, thicker than I’d ever managed before, blasted from my hands and sliced through the wood. I made a sort of messy oval, like a kindergartener would draw with a crayon, before punching the wood out and away, taking the spire above with it. I launched it off the side of the building. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it fall past the windows.

  Then I started rooting around in the magic up there, looking for whatever spell was tied to airlessness. I was sick of this place being so different than the Brink. I was sick of not eating and breathing.

  Or maybe I just wanted to remember how much I liked those things. Because I was starting to like my magic an awful lot. I enjoyed working on it, perfecting it, feeling it sear or freeze within me, and especially the feeling when both types swirled together, boosting me to what felt like impossible heights. I liked when I was nearly out of control with it, nearly about to blast everything around me, but containing it just enough to etch out the perfect illusion.

  I liked it here, too.

  Even the garden I’d sat in earlier had been amazing. It wasn’t like the Flush, which was lovely and pretty and sweet smelling. This one had plants with jagged, poisoned thorns that made you appreciate the flowers you stole from its vines. It had odd color pairings, and illogical lilies on the rosebush. I’d noticed a garden gnome when I was taking a break, nestled among the moss-covered, dense green rocks. On its face was a little sneer, and it held a painted dagger. I had half expected it to come to life and try to kill me. The fact that it didn’t made me laugh.

  Occasionally, a foul odor would waft through, like a farting dog. For funsies, I’d made the flowers wilt as the smell roamed through the garden. It was a detail that should’ve already been incorporated, and one that would surely make Daddy Dearest double over laughing.

  It was interesting, the garden, a mixture of fair and foul, with a hearty dose of the unexpected. I fit there. I fit in this collection of rooms. It felt like coming home.

  But I fit in the Brink, too, in my house that Darius kept messing with. I fit with my off-kilter neighbors, looking out across the cemetery. I was two halves, just like my magic. I was growing to appreciate them both.

  My magic was also swelling, even now. I felt it. I loved it.

  Oh God, how I loved it. I felt alive. Its wildness, its power, its raging intensity—it cured my need to get drunk and chase shifters around. It was more
dangerous than inciting Roger. It was more fun than lighting Cole the yeti on fire.

  What did that mean for me? What did it mean for my future?

  In my gut, I felt like this was a very precarious situation—a game of balance that could easily be lost as I struggled to own my heritage and hold on to my past. I needed time to figure things out.

  I needed to talk to Cahal.

  As my mind worked furiously, my magic found two possible sources for the airless spell. Because it was a spell, not an illusion. The difference was obvious, and I wondered if Lucifer had done this. It seemed more like a Penny situation than his magic. I dissolved them both; fuck it. The threads fell away, and I sucked in a thick, sweet breath.

  Part of me wondered if I’d get in trouble, if I was poking the bear, trying to see just how patient and responsive Lucifer would be. I’d already proven I could spot his weaknesses, but maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see the ones that didn’t make him laugh.

  The stars disappeared from the sky.

  Whoops.

  Whatever else I’d done, I couldn’t tell. Would I hear about it?

  Cahal cleared his throat, drawing my attention to the easy chair he sat in by the window, a type of lantern magically glowing on the table near him so he could see. The other lights in the room, artful sconces on the walls, didn’t emit enough light for someone to read this far into the room. For him, at least, given he couldn’t see very well in the dark.

  “All done?” he asked, closing his book around a torn piece of parchment and placing it on the table in front of him.

  A glass canister filled with brown liquid sat at the edge of the table with two crystal glasses beside it. That had to be the demon whiskey. He picked up the canister and poured two glasses.

  I fell into the overstuffed armchair near him, the seating set up around the table designed so people could converse. I unlaced and then slipped off my heavy boots before propping my feet onto the coffee table. He handed me a glass before sitting back down with his own drink, his gaze on me. His severe features were softened by the shadow, which made him incredibly striking. I said as much, projecting probably, just needing a compliment myself. Man, I was in a really weird place. I said that, too.

  “Shadow visually softens all,” he replied. “But it is only an illusion. The sun will re-emerge and show the sharp edges.”

  “Deep.” I took a sip of the demon whiskey, crinkling my nose at the wisp of flowery taste within the punch in the mouth delivered by the alcohol. It was strong, sure, but the weird floral elements were just weird. Still, it would do the trick.

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  “Your watcher at the door can hear us,” Cahal said.

  Oh right, I’d kicked the doors in.

  I flung up an ice barrier to block sound, something I’d picked up from Lucifer’s spell earlier in the day. Very handy, that. Once I’d seen him do it, it seemed so obvious. Then I stitched a hasty, half-assed illusion over the gaping holes so I wouldn’t have to see anything peering in at us.

  Silence crept in around us, the air heavy with unsaid words. Cahal waited patiently, and I knew he’d wait all night. He’d wait for years, even, I felt. This wasn’t like when he was trying to get me to out myself and claim my birthright. Now he was…guarding me, it seemed like, as I learned this new facet of myself.

  “I’m in a really weird place,” I repeated, and I felt like crying for the first time in…years. When was the last time I’d cried?

  “You’re exhausted.”

  “Yes. There is that.”

  “And you like it down here.”

  “I haven’t seen enough of this place to know if I like it down here.”

  “Yes, you have. This isn’t the first time you’ve been through.”

  “Right, well…” I thought back. “There are definitely parts I do not like. That crazy circus when I first came? Terrible. The worst. The weird desert with that big bird thing? Not awesome. The weird boats and that still river and the leaking ceiling—those are all mind-fucks, and I hate them.”

  “You are describing areas that are meant to be…less than ideal. Areas that Lucifer himself does not enjoy traversing, I imagine, though I don’t remember ever hearing about a circus in my time here. This is a very large place, like the Realm. He must allow his citizens their exploits, even though he might not like them.”

  “Who could possibly like the water dripping from the ceiling?”

  “It doesn’t drip everywhere. Vlad occupies the nicer areas of the Edges, I hear. He clearly doesn’t like those traits any more than you do, and he’s lived through some…unfortunate times.”

  I heaved out a sigh, and it felt good to breathe again. “I liked the garden today.”

  “Did you stay there the whole time?”

  “Yeah, I was working on my magic.” I paused. “And I like the view here. And the castle, except for the gold room, and yes, there were parts on the way here that were lovely. I did want to come back. I always have.”

  “And now that you’re here?”

  I rolled my head back and forth across the edge of the chair. I didn’t want to admit it. Cahal didn’t make me say it, though he probably knew.

  “Why are you angry?” he asked, and this was probably the first time in all the time I’d known him that he’d tried fishing information out of me, like a psychiatrist.

  It was the first time I’d needed it.

  “I’ve hardly spent any time here,” I said, and lo and behold, a bit of wetness slipped from the corner of my eye. Fatigue, it had to be fatigue. I downed the rest of the demon whiskey. “And the weird demons who wait on us annoy me, but…” I blew out a breath, then finally admitted it: “I do like it here, Cahal. I can’t even totally describe why. Not really. I could create that garden in the Brink, but it wouldn’t be the same. I could move to a place with gothic spires and greenery to get this view, but I wouldn’t bother. It’s not what I’m seeing, it’s the feeling plus what I’m seeing. Something down here just…makes me feel like I belong somehow.”

  “You do belong.”

  I blinked my eyes open and lifted my head so I could look at him. “What’s that now?”

  “You do belong here. Of course you do. Your magic sings down here. Your display with the roof a moment ago will delight Lucifer to no end. Your power has increased tenfold in just one day of intense practice. You are overtired, but you are glowing in a way that makes you incredibly lovely in a way I haven’t seen before, even with Durant. The part of you that came from the Underworld is singing now that you’re here. You should embrace it.”

  “Right…but…” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m confused. Aren’t you the guy who is supposed to keep me grounded? I need to be trying to get out of this place. Not…”

  “Yes, you are confused. For now. And maybe that’s a good thing. It is only the first day, and you are very tired, as I said. Give it more time.”

  “I may not have more time. Which brings me to the next issue. Penny’s here.”

  He flinched, and I grinned, leaning my head back against the chair. He had history with Penny, having tried to guard her during our battle with the Mages’ Guild. Her unpredictable habits had put him off-kilter. Now he got antsy every time she might show up and ruin his controlled bubble, which was pretty much every time she used her magic around him.

  “Here…where?” he asked.

  “I’m not positive. But my training with Lucifer was interrupted by a very urgent issue that he had to see to immediately. Whatever the problem was, it was widespread. The…woman—demon didn’t say we were under attack or anything, but it definitely seemed urgent.”

  Cahal didn’t respond for a long time, probably mulling everything over, before he finally asked me to repeat what I’d heard, word for word. I was amazed it was all in there, like I’d been running a tape recorder. My vampire-boosted memory still astounded me. I loved it.

  “If it was an attack, it doesn’t seem like the elves,” he said. �
��They could push back Lucifer’s magic and, with adequate time, rip it apart in places, but it wouldn’t result in something large in scope. Not unless it was a full-scale attack. Her message didn’t make it sound like that at all.”

  “So…Penny, then.”

  “With the godly power—”

  “That’s a sensitive subject with Lucifer, by the way.”

  “I know. With that power, in addition to being a natural dual-mage, in addition to her unprecedented unpredictability”—I chuckled—“I agree that it could certainly be her. It could also be…another entity.”

  I frowned. “What other entity?”

  His face closed down, but his eyes sparked. I had no idea what that meant. “Maybe nothing. Get some sleep. We’ll get up early to discuss everything. You will need your wits about you tomorrow. This show will not go unnoticed.” He stood.

  “You mean the door? The roof?”

  “The flux of power. The last heir tried, when in an incredible rage. After he’d trained for some time. He didn’t have the same effect. Not even close. You are not as you seem, Reagan Somerset. Not at all. Your mix of power is unique in a way I didn’t properly realize until now. I knew in theory, sure, but I had no idea it would amount to…this. Tomorrow, Lucifer will realize what I have, and your hopes of escaping will dwindle. The battle for your soul will start tomorrow.”

  Nine

  A knock sounded outside my rooms the next morning, whoever it was needing to use the frame, since my pseudo-door—my magic—wasn’t solid. I felt the strength of magic before I heard, Knock, knock…

  With that magic, it could only be one person.

  I squished the urge to grin. I snuffed out the excitement churning in my gut. But I couldn’t help looking forward to what was to come, good or bad. My magic was a churning, boiling, aching thing inside of me, and I wanted to let it flourish. I wanted to cause havoc, to ruin things, to paint the sky in fire. And then I wanted to sit down and create something beautiful.