Inside the Flame (Elemental Mages Book 2)

by Rose O'Brien

  Ignoring Xander’s attempt to steer the conversation, Theron asked, “What did the demon make you see?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “You’re not going to let it go, are you? We’re in the middle of Hell, but you’re going to charm and smile until I spill my emotionally damaged guts, aren’t you?” Xander said flatly.

  Theron just sent him a close-lipped smile that said there was no escape.

  “My worst fear. That seems to be this bastard’s MO.”

  Theron waited, letting the silence stretch between them. Jen had used this trick on him. A stab of pain spread out from his chest at the thought of her, and he rubbed absently at the spot.

  He almost didn’t hear Xander when he said softly, “I saw my targets. All of them.”

  Xander was a Wraith, a rogue mage hunter and a personal assassin of the Council. His power over water allowed him to kill his targets with a touch, causing raging fevers, strokes, aneurisms and heart attacks.

  “The Council doesn’t send a Wraith unless the person needs killing, Xander.”

  “My greatest fear is that some of them may not have deserved it.”

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you saw.”

  “I saw Grayson Kingfisher, the first mage I ever killed. He was nineteen. So was I.”

  “Grayson Kingfisher cut the throats of two sapien women in a ritual sacrifice in an attempt to work some seriously deadly blood magick. If anyone deserved to end up six feet under, it was that piece of shit.”

  “I was just told he did those things,” Xander whispered. “What if I was lied to?”

  They were soldiers. Questioning orders was a dangerous pastime. For Xander, it was more dangerous than most.

  Xander continued, saving him from answering.

  “I saw Fiona Woods. First woman I ever killed.”

  “She was in my year,” Theron said. “She ran. Desertion is death. We all know that.”

  “She told me in the vision that her only crime was wanting to live to see twenty-five. Was she wrong?”

  Theron ran a frustrated hand through his hair, wincing at the gritty soot that was collected there.

  “The Council would have ignored her if she hadn’t fallen in with a group trying to overthrow the Council.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe not,” Xander said. “During the vision, I was convinced their spirits had ended up here in Hell and had found me. And because thought has form, they were tearing me apart. They turned into corpses and were sticking their rotting hands down my throat.”

  ***

  Jen paced to one end of the polished onyx floor and back again. The room the demons had stashed her in was expansive, filled with comfortable furniture all in stark white. Jen’s thoughts spun around in her head like a roaring tornado. She could only hold on to one thought for a few seconds before it was torn away. Guilt, fear, anger, sorrow. Theron was dead. She’d never see him again. Spin, spin. How was she going to get out of here? Was there some escape route she was missing? Spin, spin. She shouldn’t trust the demons. But could she use them to get back to her own dimension?

  The sound of the door opening behind her froze her whirling thoughts.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Lilith’s voice came from behind her. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you’re not careful.”

  Jen turned slowly and looked at the demon. She was dressed in a short white dress that hugged her model-thin body. Her pin straight blonde hair fell to her waist and she looked like she belonged on a catwalk in Milan, right down to her sky-high white heels.

  Jen didn’t say anything. A tiny part of her wanted to unload the stuff swirling in her head to Lilith. She needed a friend, and this creature was certainly acting like she wanted to be her friend. Lilith had done nothing to harm her since she’d been here. In fact, she’d taken care of Jen, going out of her way to make her comfortable.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Lilith said. “I’ve got a little surprise that I think might cheer you up.”

  Jen followed, unsure how a demon could possibly cheer her up. Down twisting black corridors, she followed Lilith until they came to a set of large doors. When Lilith opened them with a sweep of her hand, a dark, cavernous space was revealed. Jen stepped back, fear twisting her stomach.

  “Trust me,” Lilith whispered. “Just step inside. You’re going to love it.”

  Not wanting to anger the demon and feeling a strange, compelling curiosity, she stepped past the door into the darkness. As she did, the cavernous space suddenly shifted, and Jen felt a disorienting moment of vertigo.

  Blinking hard, her eyes focused and revealed…a house. She was standing in a house. Hardwood floors, a homey looking kitchen, a living room done in blues and greys. Sheer white curtains stirred in a breeze through open windows. Beyond them, Jen could see—was that the ocean?

  “It’s your dream house!” Lilith squealed, throwing her arms wide.

  She wasn’t lying. It was Jen’s dream house, down to the last detail, including a picture-perfect beach outside.

  “How did you—” Jen began, walking numbly to one of the windows. “Did you read my mind?”

  “Just a little,” Lilith said, looking a little sheepish. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

  “Why? Why are you doing all of this?”

  Lilith was silent a moment before she turned to Jen, stroking her shoulder affectionately.

  “You’re very special, Jen. You don’t understand how long we’ve been looking for someone like you. And you’re here just in time to help us stop Falak and his minions. With your help, we can save your world and mine. Honestly, I’d give you anything you wanted. You’re that important to me.”

  Jen was taken aback by Lilith’s words. She hadn’t been important to anyone in a very long time. The only person who had really ever cared about her was her mother, and she’d been gone for what seemed a lifetime.

  You were important to Theron, a little voice chimed in, sending a spear of pain through her chest, but she squashed it. No use thinking about that now. He was dead.

  And now there was Lilith. It was so tempting to take what she was offering. The dream house, a purpose in stopping the invasion, a friendship, something she had been without for so long.

  “How are you doing this?” Jen asked, waving a hand at the white painted walls.

  “Thought has form in this dimension,” Lilith reminded her. “I instructed some of the minions of the lower demon classes to create this place for you.”

  “It’s an illusion?”

  “As long as they’re thinking about it, it’s as real as you are,” Lilith replied.

  Jen ran her hand over the white granite countertop to her right. It was solid and cold to the touch.

  “There’s one more thing,” Lilith said, a smile spreading across her perfectly glossed lips. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Chapter 19

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Xander repeated for the third time. Theron had kept pressing Xander for more details about his visions from the demon of fear, trying to pick apart how Xander had been able to snap out of it and Theron hadn’t.

  His older brother had always been a closed book to him, for as long as Theron could remember. Xander was only two years older, but the gap between them had always felt like decades because Xander seemed so much older at heart.

  Theron could never remember the water mage playing and laughing as they grew up. He’d always been on the sidelines, watching in silence. Xander’s sense of humor was best described as gallows. He didn’t speak unless he had something to say, preferring silence over chatter. And pessimist didn’t even begin to cover Xander. The guy saw the worst in every situation and was constantly calculating the worst-case scenario. He didn’t let it stop him from completing his missions, but he didn’t seem to take joy in anything either.

  “What do you want to talk about then? I’m going bugfuck in this silence,” Theron responded.

  “I don’t know. What
do normal brothers talk about?”

  “They talk about normal stuff, like their lives and sports and jobs and current events,” Theron said, exasperation filtering into his voice.

  Xander stopped walking, the black dust settling around him.

  “You want to talk about my life? I live alone and barely speak to other human beings. Most of my conversations are with the undead, vengeful spirit who lives in a canteen on my belt.”

  He paused and Theron opened his mouth to respond, but Xander launched into the rest of his tirade, saying more words at once than Theron had heard from him in years.

  “Neither of us follows sportsball of any kind, so that’s out. You want to talk about my job? You want to hear about all the people I’ve assassinated recently? I’m sure that will make for riveting conversation,” Xander said, his voice dripping with disdain. “And fuck current events.”

  With that, Xander readjusted his pack, turned away and started trudging through the dust again, leaving Theron with a frown creasing his brow and his mouth hanging open slightly. What could he say to that?

  Theron turned and followed, deciding that he preferred silence after all.

  It seemed like hours later, but may have only been a few minutes when Xander ground to a halt in front of him, almost causing Theron to collide with his back.

  His brother’s body was rigid, on high alert, his breath coming a little fast. Theron peered around him.

  The path they were on wound through rocky outcroppings on either side, their shapes jutting sharply and glossy black. They were in the foothills now, almost free of what Sparky had called the Mountains of Fear.

  Maybe twenty yards ahead of them, a flash of something light could be seen against the dark rock. The shape was vaguely human. Theron moved cautiously around Xander, motioning silently for the water mage to cover him while he took point. Nodding, Xander took up position behind him and to the right, the air around them both crackling with energy as they readied to call on their powers.

  Theron moved quietly in a half crouch toward the figure. As he approached, he saw that it was an emaciated human in ragged khakis and a T-shirt. Long, dark hair was a wild, matted tangle around the thing’s head.

  Theron almost didn’t hear the sound over the rushing of blood in his ears: soft feminine sobbing. Time felt like it was moving too slowly. His stomach fell to his knees as the figure turned to face him.

  Jen’s dark eyes met his, and he almost screamed. She was emaciated, the bones in her face far too prominent. Her collar bones and ribs were visible through the torn neckline of her tattered shirt.

  Theron nearly launched himself into a breakneck run to get to her, but the thing she held in her arms kept him rooted to the spot, unable to make a single muscle obey him. It was a baby. Or, it had been once.

  The tiny dark-haired child had been dead a couple of days at least, the skin gone grey and purple.

  Was this real? Another trick of the fear demon, it’s last ditch attempt?

  Theron saw his own horror reflected in Xander’s face and knew that his brother was seeing this too. In every other vision the fear demon had shown him, Xander had been hidden from him. The demon showed each person their worst fears. If Xander was seeing this too, it must be real.

  As he stepped forward, his legs moving like a drunk’s, his mind spun. How could this have happened to Jen? She’d gone through the portal two, maybe three days ago. How could she have become so malnourished and had a baby in that time?

  Time passes more quickly here. While you healed and collected supplies, she’s been trapped here for months. Carrying your child.

  The voice echoing in his head sounded like his own, but rough and dripping with anger. He shook himself trying to dislodge the words, but the idea had taken root. Jen had suffered because of his delay. She’d lost another child, their child, because of him.

  Jen’s voice, cracked and dry, sounding of rattling corn husks, snapped his attention back to her.

  “I couldn’t save her, Theron. I’m sorry. I tried so hard. She was born blue and I couldn’t make her start breathing. I tried everything—” her words became a stream punctuated by sobs. After a moment it was just gibberish.

  Theron was at her side now, and he knelt beside Jen. She was a broken thing. Starved, covered in cuts, lesions, and bruises. What was left of her clothes was stained with blood and other things he didn’t want to think about.

  Her lips were cracked and bleeding and as she babbled the blood smeared over her teeth.

  “Xander, bring the med kit and some water!” he barked over his shoulder. When he didn’t hear movement, Theron looked behind him. His brother and Sparky were gone.

  Turning back to Jen, his thoughts jumbled for a moment. He’d been worried about something a second ago, something about his brother—

  “You said it was safe, Theron. You said we were safe. Said it was safe, said it was safe, said it was safe…”

  Whether she was talking about the unprotected sex or the fact that he’d dragged them into Bridget’s ambush, it didn’t matter. Jen was right either way. He’d said they were safe and here they sat. She’d spent months in Hell, given birth in these conditions and was holding another dead child because of him.

  He’d had a daughter. The thought clawed at the inside of his chest. He couldn’t protect her, hadn’t even known she existed.

  “Xander, bring the med kit!” Where was his idiot brother? Couldn’t he see she needed help? Something niggled inside his mind. It itched like a mosquito bite. He started to turn, to look for Xander but Jen’s hand on his face stopped him.

  He met her eyes.

  “Gods, Jen. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I didn’t know,” he said, feeling hot tears spill from his eyes. “Jen, we have to go. We have to get you out of here.”

  She laughed a little, a rasping sound in her throat, that still managed to capture the dark humor he loved about her.

  “We both know I can’t walk out of here,” she said, gesturing to her emaciated form.

  “I can barely sit up,” she ground out. “I’m not leaving this rock.”

  “Don’t say that,” he demanded, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her face. Her gaze slid from his face and landed on the .50 cal at his waist, a tiny smile twisting her bloody lips.

  “You can do something for me, though,” she said, her voice sad. “You can end this for me. Quick. Easy.”

  Theron recoiled.

  “Not a chance. Xander’s got some healing skills. He can help, if I can just find him. We’re getting out of this together or not at all.”

  “That second part is looking pretty likely,” she said softly. Her hand caressed his face again. The other held their dead child. She leaned forward, until her lips were just inches from his.

  In a voice that was almost too soft to hear, she said, “All you have to do is pull that trigger twice and we can be with her, with our baby, forever.”

  Time seemed to stretch, elongating until a single second felt like hours. Jen’s words were like dark snakes invading his mind, twisting and writhing, sinking their fangs into every part of him. For that eternal moment, he believed her. He should do it. Darkness swallowed his mind, snuffing out everything as he felt the .50 cal clear the holster and come to rest in his palm.

  ***

  In the blink of an eye, Xander found himself standing alone on the path. He’d seen Theron run toward the skeletal woman only to disappear as soon as he’d reached her. Looking around, he saw that Sparky wasn’t around either.

  This shit was getting so old.

  “That all you got, you demon motherfucker? Show yourself and let’s dance.”

  Dropping his pack to the ground, he drew his daggers from the cross-draw sheaths on his hips and stood ready, letting the edges of his cloak fall over his arms to hide his movements.

  “I’m right here,” a voice whispered in his mind.

  Xander was only able to keep himself from flinching by clamping down on every musc
le in his body with an iron will.

  “You are not a man who is controlled by his fear, I see that now,” the voice said. “You have no idea how rare that is.”

  Xander laughed. “Flattery gets you nowhere.”

  “Most people crack when I throw their worst fear at them. I showed you the faces of the innocents you murdered, and you saw through it. Your mind and will are strong. It’s all about completing the mission for you, isn’t it? You’ll push past fear and pain and what’s left of your conscience, all for the mission.”

  Xander stayed silent, instead concentrating on his breathing, feeling the daggers in his hands, staying alert for the attack he knew was coming, waiting for some monster to leap from the darkness.

  “What would you do to complete this mission, Xander? What would you do to get your brother and his woman out of this dimension, alive and healthy?”

  That got his attention.

  The demon had read him like a book. He would do anything to complete a mission. And today, his mission was to protect his brother.

  “Now that you’re listening, let’s get down to business. I need a way out of this dimension. One of the only ways to do that is ride out in the body of a living human. As you might have guessed, not too many of the living come wandering through here.”

  Xander stayed silent waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “I’ll show you exactly where this woman is being held and give you the power you’ll need to fight your way out of here. In exchange, you let me hitch a ride to the other side.”

  “And unleash the demon of fear on Earth? Not gonna happen. We’ll find our own way out of here.”

  “You’re going up against Lilith, the queen demon herself. Your brother nearly cracked under my assaults. Do you really think he can withstand her?”

  The tiniest niggling doubt passed through Xander’s thoughts. Could Theron survive that? What about Jen? What hope did they have of finding her on their own? And getting back out again?