Forged in Darkfire

by Katerina Martinez

  “Why spoil the surprise? It’ll be here soon enough.”

  “The Dark Fire?”

  A sly grin spread across Henry’s lips, which looked cracked and broken from where Damien stood. “It’s coming for you,” he said. “I called it, just like you two little bastards did.”

  “We didn’t call it,” Damien said, stepping forward. “Your dad called it.”

  “And you made him lose control of it!” A line of spittle ran down his lips when he spoke.

  “He was going to kill that kid, Henry.”

  “And that would have been the only person to have died if you hadn’t gotten involved, you little shit.”

  Damien could feel his heart racing. Every pump sent daggers of pain to the side of his head, but he shut them out. He could hear rumbling now, from outside, and that wasn’t good. He could also hear the roar of the crowd, that night at the Compound, as the witches gathered around the pyre venerated the High Magus in a language unknown to human tongues. The boy was a lamb, and the Magus was about to summon the wolf that would devour him and take his soul away.

  The boy’s terrified face still stalked his dreams sometimes, even though they had saved his life that night.

  “You stood there,” Lily said, her voice soft, “And you watched, Henry. You just watched. How could you stand by and let him do what he was going to do to that poor boy?”

  “It was a gift, Lilith. A gift to the Crone. As she reaps, so do we sow. When she is happy, we flourish.”

  “The Crone doesn’t take human lives like that!”

  “Oh but she does,” Henry said, “She takes lives, Lilith. The Crone is a hungry hag, and we feed her to placate her. To have her blessings. To keep her happy with her servants. We, her mothers, fathers, and children. Her hands and warriors. Her chosen.”

  “You were never chosen for anything,” Lily spat, “And neither was that piece of shit father of yours.”

  “Watch it,” Henry said, lowering his head and scowling. “Watch your fucking tongue.”

  “You’re just like him,” Lily said, “The Dark Fire was a curse. He turned mad with power when he stole a secret he shouldn’t have ever learned. It got him killed, Henry. Not us. We deflected his magick away from the innocent life he was about to snuff out.”

  “And doomed my father in the process.”

  “You speak of him like he was an innocent. He was the one who summoned the Dark Fire to begin with, not me. No one should play with that kind of magick and you know that. Or at least you would if you were real.”

  Real? Damien thought. What did she mean by that?

  “Fuck you,” Henry said.

  She was on to something, even if Damien didn’t know exactly how or what. “How much of himself did the real Henry put into making you?” Lily asked.

  “Enough to do what I have to do.”

  “And what’s that? Torment an innocent young witch who had nothing to do with any of this?”

  “The Dark Fire was meant for Damien or for you. Not her. But I’ll settle.”

  “Big man,” she said, mocking. “Strong man. I bet you’ve made Henry really proud.”

  Damien, the voice came into his mind like an echo in an empty room.

  Lily? He thought.

  This thing isn’t real. I’m going to distract it, but you have to get Natalie. You have to wake her up; it’s the only way to get us all out safely before the Dark Fire comes.

  “I don’t have to prove anything,” Henry said.

  “Sure you do. You have to prove to me that you can take a punch.”

  Damien felt the ripple in the Currents an instant before Henry grimaced and doubled over. Lily’s hands were at her side, balled into fists, and the Power was surging through her; riding on the back of her anger. He could see, with his mind’s eye, the way her ethereal form had leapt out of her own body and drawn a fist into Henry’s stomach. A psychic strike, Damien thought.

  “Bitch,” Henry said when he recovered. He ran at her, baton raised, and took a swing. Lily ducked to the left and Damien staggered away. The baton went wide and Henry stumbled, but in a moment he was at it again, the black nightstick flashing and cutting the air. Then Lily started to run, and Henry gave chase. “You should have married me!” he screamed as he ran, “I would have loved you!”

  Damien sprang to his feet and ran after them, but then he caught sight of something, no someone, in one of the cells. Natalie! The cell was like the others—a mouth instead of bars—but this one was quiet. Its teeth were crooked and yellow, stained with blood, and cracked like old bones. But Natalie was on the other side of those teeth, bound and gagged and… crying.

  But she was awake and alert.

  The alarm on her face was evident, as was the relief at seeing Damien through the gap in the vertical mouth. Damien approached, taking one step after the other. The mouths along the corridor were gnashing and clacking, but this one was still. Careful, he reached for the gap with his hand, but the mouth clamped down hard and he only just managed to save his arm from being cut off by yanking it back so hard the movement hurt his shoulder.

  “I’m going to get you out of there,” he said.

  But the rumbling outside was getting louder, Lily had disappeared—as had Henry—and these teeth weren’t going to make things easy.

  He searched around him for something that might help; an iron bar, a fire extinguisher… an ax. But the dream prison seemed as inmate-proof as the real Alcatraz may have been. Natalie was whimpering now. She could see the alarm on his face. The concern. The helplessness. Had she not been afflicted with whatever curse Henry had lain on her she may have been able to use some of her own Magick to get out, but maybe throwing her scent around had been about as much as she could manage.

  Then the Amber started to go warm in his hand, reminding him of its presence maybe. He opened his palm and watched the fire flickering golden and orange inside the little gem. It might have looked like a piece of the sun trapped inside a stone. Then a thought struck him. Damien took a step back, trapped the Amber between his thumb and forefinger, and wound back his arm.

  He had never been a good pitcher, but he couldn’t exactly miss here.

  CHAPTER 10

  Wherever that thing pretending to be Henry was, it’s dead now.

  Damien didn’t know how he had come by this information, but it came to him all the same in the split second it took for the stone to fly from his hand toward the cell. Just as he had suspected, the mouth clamped down hard as soon as the gem crossed the threshold and shattered it, releasing the trapped explosion within. Only there had been no explosion.

  Instead of the heat he expected there was cool. Instead of the suck and pop of a blast, there was quiet. Instead of being hurled across the room from the shockwave he was standing perfectly still. He had raised his hands to protect himself from the light and the blast, but he lowered them now and found himself standing on a long, empty, windy pier.

  And Natalie was at the end of it.

  “Natalie,” he said, running toward her. She turned around and smiled and he took her in an embrace, burying his nose in the cinnamon and honey smell of her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, “I chose to save your ass, didn’t I?”

  He smiled at that. “Yeah, you could have let me take it.”

  “No,” she said, “I couldn’t have.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” he said, pulling back and brushing the side of her face with his hand. “I’m here now and so are you. You’re safe.”

  She nodded, but there was something about her eyes… they looked dull and muted. They didn’t have the same shiny brilliance that, despite being deep brown pools, he had seen them have before. Damien’s smile started to fade as if it had been washed away by the evening tide.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Damien… we…” she was struggling to find the words. “I can’t leave.”

  He searched her eyes for an answer for a question his
lips couldn’t ask but found none. “You have to leave. You have to wake up, Natalie.”

  “I can’t,” she said. She turned her head and gazed across the bay. There, right where Damien had left it, was the roiling, churning black cloud—the Dark Fire. Arcs of green lightning were shooting across the sky and slamming into buildings and water, setting them ablaze with green fire. He could hear the roar of the flames even from here. And it seemed, somehow, that the storm was starting to move again.

  To move toward the pier Damien was standing on.

  “No,” he said, “That can’t be right. You have to wake up, Natalie. You have—” The shooting pain in his temple came back with a vengeance. It felt like he had been stabbed with an ice pick. He grimaced and fell back a few paces, and despite the pain he was in Natalie didn’t show any concern on her face. Maybe she couldn’t show any concern.

  “She’s right,” said a voice from behind. Lily. Hers was also cold and unconcerned.

  Damien spun around, holding the side of his head. “She has to wake up,” he said, “We freed her, didn’t we?”

  Lily shook her head. “We freed her from Henry, but we were too late to stop the Dark Fire. It has already taken too much. She’ll be gone soon, Damien.”

  “Gone?” He whipped around again and looked at Natalie. “She’s right there! How can you tell me she’s gone?”

  “When the Dark Fire comes it’ll take what’s left of her. We should destroy her now before… she changes.”

  “No,” he said, striding toward Natalie again. “I won’t let it take her—you—I won’t let it take you. Not after we’ve come this far.” Natalie looked up at him doe-eyed and blinking slowly. Maybe this was a trick, another test. “I’ll bind myself to her.”

  “Damien,” Lily said, all the urgency suddenly returned to her voice. “You can’t do that. The Dark Fire will take you both!”

  “If I can bind myself to her, I can give her enough of me that she’ll wake up… and all of this will be over.”

  The incoming storm rumbled and roared as it approached. The water was starting to churn, frothing and lapping harder against the pier, wind picking up and blowing harder than it had been a moment ago. He didn’t know if they had seconds or minutes left, but he wasn’t about to stick around to find out.

  Lily placed her hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “That I’ll be bound to her forever in mind, body, and soul,” he said, not once taking his eyes away from Natalie’s. “I owe her, Lily. She saved my life, now I have to save hers.”

  “You’re going to save me?” Natalie asked.

  Damien nodded. He cupped her face with his hands, her cool, pale face, and found her lips with his own. She opened her mouth for him, and soon their tongues met in the space between. Natalie arched into the kiss, pressing her body against his, and he did the same—pulling her closer and diving into her hair with his hands, searching for the back of her head. Honey, he could remember thinking, she tastes like honey.

  And then the storm came.

  He watched it unfold almost as if from a different set of eyes—like those of a distant observer. Damien and Natalie were tiny black sticks upon a long, broad, wooden pier, and the storm was a mantle of black and sickly green that rolled over everything and devoured whatever it touched. The cloud bowled over the land like a huge black wave, tearing buildings to the ground and then eating them up, and in the blink of an eye the pier was gone.

  But Damien and Natalie weren’t.

  They were inside the tempest, flying with it, embracing each other amidst the thundering roar and the crackling lightning. Green and black fire licked at their clothes, disintegrating them piece by piece. Shoes, pants, shirts; they all succumbed to the fire. But Damien and Natalie persisted.

  They were naked, now; the power of the Dark Fire itself holding them aloft and the power of the Witch keeping them alive and protected. Natalie’s hands started to gain life and will, and they used that will to explore the curve of Damien’s naked back. He could feel her breasts pressed between their bodies and he stiffened at the feel of her hard nipples on his skin.

  Lightning and fire screamed at them, infuriated at their defiance and their unwillingness to let it take them. From inside, the Dark Fire seemed more like a living, breathing thing than it ever had; the green light pulsing from behind the clouds, the ripping lightning, and the blazing fires were its organs, and the roar of the storm its voice.

  Damien had heard that same voice on his last night at the Compound. He would never forget the way his uncle Brian cut into his palm with a knife and spilled the Dark Fire into the world from his wound. It crackled and hissed, then, then it howled, and then it roared. And when the sight was too much for the onlookers to bear, they screamed.

  It was Lily who fought it back. She had known of Brian’s plan and stood ready to counter his Magick with her own. Once the Dark Fire was in the world she knew she wouldn’t be able to send it back from where it had come; only an act of selflessness and defiance would do that. But she didn’t need to control the Dark Fire, she only needed to control Brian; and none had stronger power over the mind than Lily.

  They watched him burn, consumed by his own hubris, and fled.

  He would never forget Brian’s dying wail, that awful, gargling sound, and there—in the heart of the tempest—he thought he could hear it at the edge of his senses, but his focus wasn’t on the noises around him; it was on Natalie and her delicate skin. In that moment, lost as he was in the deepest kiss of his life, he didn’t know why he had ever resisted her.

  The feel of her soft skin on his excited him in a way no one had ever done before. Her lips, wandering away from his mouth and finding the line of his jaw, his neck, his collar, sent electricity rushing through him. And as they swirled and danced in the air, carried by the power of this evil storm, Damien wanted nothing more than to taste her, to hold her, to bind himself to her forever.

  So he took her face and kissed her again, then he pulled her legs up to his waist and pressed her close to him. In his mind he thought of a silken ribbon, wrapping around their bodies, joining them together as the wind carried them, tossed and tumbled them like rag dolls. But in their bubble of Magick they were protected, undisturbed, and the ribbon was able to work.

  Heat was rising from their entwined bodies, sweat starting to form on Damien’s chest, and soon the kissing had become too much for him to bear. He slid his arms beneath hers, explored the landscape of her body with his fingers while she ran her hands through his hair, and slowly reached for the empty space between them, finding himself and… suddenly he was awake.

  The windows in the bedroom were already steamed up. Lily was gone, Damien could see, and the door was closed. But he was only aware of that by virtue of being possessed with peripheral vision. More immediate was Natalie. She was naked, tucked into his body like a perfectly fitting S shape, and sweating almost as much as he was.

  Together they lay on their sides, Natalie facing away from Damien, her bare back pressed against his naked skin. She was searching for him blindly, and when she found him—hard—she guided him into her. Damien’s heart exploded into a rapid frenzy at the moment of contact, beating hard and fast as, for the first time, he entered a woman.

  Damien lost his virginity in that moment, surrendered to Natalie as a sacrifice to allow the binding to take hold. Only it wasn’t enough to simply enter her. This was only the beginning, he knew.

  Around them, a soft, cold wind was blowing. But the heat between them was palpable, and it seemed to Damien like he could still hear the roar of the Dark Fire in the back of his mind. Receding, but present. It was not over yet. But Natalie’s loud, euphoric moan snapped him out of the dread, and he slipped his arms under and around her body… and pushed.

  The motion was gentle at first, and awkward, but they found their rhythm soon enough, their bodies slowly starting to move as one; away and together in a slow, tender dance of skin and sweat and he
at. Natalie reached around the back of her head to search for Damien’s hair and pulled him toward her neck, which he kissed without any more need for encouragement.

  He could feel the pressure building inside of him. The rocking of their bodies, the steady, rapid breaths leaving Natalie’s lips, the feel of being inside her, her breast beneath his hand, hard nipples between his fingers; this was all new to him. It was carnal and natural and primal, and he had never felt it before.

  “Damien,” she whispered, finding his hand and squeezing it.

  It’s working, he thought. But the fight wasn’t over yet. No ritual was done until it reached its end, and they had yet to get there still. Inexperienced as he may have been, Damien needed to finish. And if he failed, if for some reason he couldn’t finish, he feared Natalie would fall back into a death-sleep from which he would not be able to save her.

  He slipped out of her, against his urge to be inside her, and gently pushed her to her back. Then he crawled over her slippery, sweaty, naked body, between her legs. She opened herself to receive him, wrapping herself around his back, and then he was inside her again. Only this time their eyes were locked, and Damien found himself falling into those deep, brown pools.

  Together they swayed, moaned, and groaned. Natalie’s hands explored the ridges of his lean muscles, her breasts rocked with the motions of their bodies, and Damien, at the last moment, closed the gap between their lips for one last deep kiss. One kiss before it was over, before the Magick took hold, before they bound themselves to each other for life in one single act.

  “Damien,” Natalie sang between kisses, “Please, please, Damien.”

  When she tightened her fingers around a clump of his hair Damien spilled himself inside her. Natalie’s body tensed at the sensation and she groaned into his mouth. A few rapid pulses, an instant and a lifetime of bliss, and he was spent—it was done; but Damien’s body continued to shake until long after.

  He couldn’t remember how long it was until they had separated; only that they eventually had, and now the sun was up.