by Eve Langlais
It was Felicia who shushed them. “Shut up. I want to know what happens.”
The image on screen steadied. Esfir, who was the ghost reliving the moment, turned from the wondrous feat of architecture and magic. She noted a man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, but unlit in this relic of a place. He held a video camera in his hand. He watched the tiny screen.
“Jacques.” The female voice could be heard, not seen, probably because Esfir’s body was the avatar riding the memories. “Did you crack the code to get in?” The query emerged, and Jacques turned for a look before shaking his head.
“Nothing yet, mon amour. We can’t even be sure where the door is. We’ve gone over every inch of this place and have yet to even find a seam. I hate to say it, but I think we’ll have to blow it open.”
A shame. A site this old would have pulled in a large sum if dismantled and sold to a collector.
“I figured you might say that. A shipment of charges is scheduled to arrive this afternoon. By tomorrow morning, we’ll have a hole and be able to see what’s hiding on the other side. By this time next month, we should be rich.”
“And vacationing on a beach.”
“I already bought the bikini,” Esfir said with a titter.
“Here’s to hoping there’s plenty of treasure behind this wall so we never have to work again, mon amour,” Jacques stated.
“I see I’ve arrived just in time.” The strange voice drew attention, and Esfir whirled to see a man with a deep tan, slicked dark hair, and a white suit entering the cavern.
“Who are you? You’re not allowed to be here,” Jacques blustered.
“And neither are you. This is not a safe place for humans.” The stranger shook his finger at them, as if chiding a naughty child.
“Don’t you mean it’s not safe for you?” Jacques pulled the pistol he wore at his hip and fired.
He missed. Somehow, the man in the white suit was no longer at the mouth of the cavern but standing in front of the temple.
How had he moved so quickly?
“You foolish, foolish humans. Do you have any idea what you play with?” The man with his oiled beard and gleaming eyes turned from the glyphs on the columns to regard them sternly. “There is a reason this place was hidden. Did you not heed the warning signs?” He swept a hand, indicating all the intricate carvings.
“It’s ours. We found it,” Jacques growled. “So step aside before I make you regret it.” He aimed his gun.
“Humans and their toys.” A snap of the fingers and the gun went from Jacques’ grip to the stranger’s. He held it aloft and shook his head. “We should have never granted the wish of flaming powder.” He flung the gun from him, only it turned into dust, the motes drifting to the ground.
Magic.
Impossible.
Jacques looked as pale as the falling ash. “Who are you?”
“A guardian who is telling you one last time to leave.”
“We aren’t leaving. It’s our treasure. We found it.”
“And you will forget it.”
Those fingers lifted, and the man went to speak, only to pause as a low, vibrating hum swept the room, trembled the very rocky foundations and sifted silt from the ceiling.
The man in white turned his head to stare at the wall. Placed his hand against it and bowed his head, as if listening.
Jacques raised a second gun that he pulled from an ankle holster.
Bang.
This time, the strange man didn’t evade the speeding bullet. A red stain spread across his white suit. He turned back to face Jacques—hand still braced on the glyphs—opened his mouth, and said, “That hurt. It’s not supposed to hurt.” His brows beetled as if in concentration, and he began to slump, only he didn’t fall far. His hand remained stuck to the wall. Literally stuck, and the edge of it glowed.
“I told you to move away,” Jacques said, sweat beading his brow, while Esfir stood in shocked silence.
The man in white cursed. “Fucking moron. Do you know what you’ve done? Quickly. You mustn’t let my blood touch the stone.”
Or what?
Jacques took the warning as a reason to shoot again.
The bullet went right through the body, spraying the wall with blood. The man in white fell against the temple, gasping for breath. “Stupid human, you’ve doomed us all.”
Words that made no sense. Words that tapered as the life in his eyes faded. One last exhale and his body went limp.
Everything was quiet.
The crack sounded louder than it should have. A dark line appeared in the wall amidst the blood splatter. It zigzagged from that spot moving up, then left and right, a spider crack that webbed. From it seeped a mist, a greenish miasma that quickly brought a rotten smell to the nose. The stench of sulphur caused gagging. Being closest, Jacques’ eyes watered as he gasped, “We need to get out of here. It is the death burp.”
It truly was. Jacques no sooner spoke than his body arched. His eyes turned a bright, glowing red. He opened his mouth and said, “Freed—” Splat.
He exploded into meaty chunks. They hit exposed flesh with hot, wet slaps.
“Jacques!” Esfir screamed his name and yet knew nothing could help him. She had to save herself.
Running back through the crevice, hot wind nipped at the heels, crawled up the spine. Curled around the neck. Crept into the mouth, filling the mind with visions of power. Doom.
Nothingness.
Ella gasped as the memories abruptly halted. The screen went to white snow once more.
Silence permeated the room.
It was Felicia who broke it with a bright, “I don’t know about everyone else, but that totally stirred my appetite. Dinner, anyone?”
Eight
Her statement drew the attention of those present from the brutal carnage on the screen as they stared at her with shocked expressions. Despite her blasé words, truth be told, Felicia also felt a chill.
What kind of power did these demons, just released from their prison, have that they could explode a person, literally? And more important, could they do the same to a vampire?
She wasn’t about to volunteer to find out.
Rather than adjourn to the dining room—even though she was, in truth, feeling a bit peckish—they chose to remain in the library. Her human servants filed in quietly to offer beverages and left behind a tray of snacks. For Ella mostly. Humans required regular feeding and sleep, just like any other pet.
Felicia stuck to her infused red wine, joined by Zane. As for the djinn, they huddled in a tight circle. The old one appeared angry. She couldn’t hear their conversation no matter how hard she tried. Probably some kind of spell to hide it. But she saw their faces. Jamaal, mocking. Tariq, stern. Whereas Azzam gestured and talked, getting wound up.
Since they were involved in their own drama, she addressed Ella. “Is the demon that came out of the crack and took over Jacques the same one who used you to talk?”
Ella shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. The memories I funneled were from the ghost’s perception, colored by her state of mind at the time.”
“She being…?”
“A traitor.” The cone of silence dissipated, and Jamaal answered.
“A traitor how?” Felicia asked.
“They did not come across that location by accident,” Tariq supplied. “Esfir worked for us.”
“And you think she stole the location of the temple from you?” asked Felicia. She kept a close eye on her staff. Cameras kept them honest. As did their blood bond to their queen.
“Stole or saw something she shouldn’t have then told her lover. Our own fault in a sense because we’ve been self-absorbed.” Azzam was the one to reply. “Many of the djinn had retreated from the world. Choosing to spend their lives in their bottles. Watching the world rather than participating in it.”
“Wait, you really live in bottles?” Ella exclaimed. “Can I see one?”
“No.” Tariq’s lips pulled into a flat
line. “When the demonic essences escaped, they possessed humans—”
“I thought they exploded them.”
“Perhaps they did initially, but they soon learned to keep their hosts alive. With bodies to use, and the knowledge they stole from those minds, they went after our sanctuary,” Tariq explained.
“Hold on, they attacked you on your home turf?” Zane exclaimed. “Didn’t you have safeguards to prevent attacks?”
“We did. However, our protective spells have worn down over time. As Azzam mentioned, we didn’t remain vigilant.”
“Complacency is the enemy,” muttered Felicia.
“Exactly,” Tariq agreed. “But even if we were watching, you need to understand the demons are clever. They can hide in plain sight, nestled in a host.”
“Like spiritual leeches,” Felicia remarked.
“For the moment, and only because their bodies aren’t present on this plane. Not yet. Only their essence has managed to escape, and it is but a weak representation of what they can do.” This time, Azzam played teacher.
Ella clapped her hands, looking more excited than frightened. “If their plan is to possess humans, then we’ll have to foil it.”
“And how do you propose to do so?” Tariq asked. “Killing the host only allows the essence to roam once more.”
“Who said anything about killing?” Ella squeaked.
“Then how do you propose we fight them?” Jamaal jumped in.
“Holy water and priests, of course.” Ella rolled her eyes. “We’ll get vats of it. Arm the populace with water guns and crosses.”
Tariq grimaced. “If only it were so easy.”
“Are you saying we can’t exorcise them back to where they came from?” Felicia asked.
“No. Because they are only spirits, which means they can’t be killed. Only contained,” Azzam stated.
Felicia frowned. “Surely the djinn have the power to handle them?” Judging by the expression on their faces, they couldn’t.
“We tried to fight, and failed,” Tariq admitted. “The presence of demons renders us vulnerable.”
“They’re your kryptonite,” Ella exclaimed. “When they’re around, you can be hurt.”
“A modern explanation that actually suits the case.” Tariq shook his head. “And it had been so long that we’d forgotten about them. But they didn’t forget us. Upon escaping, they began riding humans, making their way to our secret place. Wearing the bodies of our servants, they entered and captured the bottles of my people. Only a few emerged in time to fight. All but Jamaal and Azzam were taken or killed that day.”
“And we survived only because you arrived in time to save us.” Azzam spread his arms and swung them. “Tariq wielded the mighty thunder hammer of the olden days and did his best to collapse the walls on the demon hosts. But they were many. He wasn’t in time to stop one from tearing out part of my magical core.” The old man’s lips turned down.
Ella looked at him with a frown. “So that’s why your soul is bleeding.”
“You can see it?” Azzam asked sharply.
“Well, yeah. You and Jamaal are leaking all over the place. I’m surprised you haven’t fixed it,” Ella said.
“We haven’t because we can’t. Djinn can’t heal other djinn or themselves. Part of the restrictions on our magic,” Tariq explained.
“You can’t. Can someone else, though?” Felicia asked.
“Who?” Jamaal asked, his lip curled in a sneer. “You? Because I’d rather be human than a flesh-eating leech.”
“And I’d rather floss than be your sire,” was her sharp retort. Felicia cocked her head. “Ella, you say you can see the damage. Can you do something to help?”
Ella gnawed her lower lip. “Maybe.”
It was Azzam who said, “Could you try?”
“I don’t know if I can fix it, but I think I can stop the bleed.”
“Think?” Tariq bristled. “I don’t want my grandfather being part of some experiment by a witch.”
“What’s the worse the chit can do?” Azzam asked.
“Kill you.” Tariq’s words hung in the air.
No surprise, Zane took offense. “You don’t want her helping, then that’s fine by me.”
“Zane.” Ella put her hand on his arm. “Putting a seal over the holes in their spirits won’t hurt me.”
“How would you know? You’ve never done it before. And these are djinn. We don’t know how their magic will affect you if you try.”
“Only one way to find out.” Before anyone could stop her, Ella sprang from her seat on the couch. Her eyes began to glow, shining white, but also swirling with gray. The tips of her hair lifted, and for a moment, a swirl of gray smoke with shapes within it could be seen. Her hands reached out for Azzam and grabbed him despite Tariq’s shouted, “No.”
When Tariq would have slapped her hands away, a force knocked him back and then pinned him.
The ghosts didn’t like anyone manhandling their Ella. As for Felicia, she sat back and watched. This new element of Ella’s magic was uncharted and fascinating. Just how much could she do wielding the spirits?
The old man’s mouth gaped wide open, and his eyes rolled back in his head. A mist rolled from Ella’s mouth, pouring out of her into Azzam, and he appeared to inhale it.
When the fog trailed to a trickle, Ella’s mouth snapped shut and she released the man. She took a step back, stumbled, and Zane was there to grab her.
“Goodness, that was a little more intense than expected,” she exclaimed before fainting.
Zane swept her into his arms and glared at everyone present. “Are you happy now?”
“Don’t be such an ogre,” Felicia remarked. “She fainted. It happens. Take her to her chambers.” A set of rooms reserved for Ella and Zane for the times they stayed over. “I am sure she’ll wake shortly.”
Without replying, Zane left. Tariq rose to his feet, brushing himself off as he strode to his grandfather who stood with a bemused look on his face.
“Azzam, speak to me. What did the witch do to you?”
“She’s not a witch!” Felicia took offense.
He turned his agitated gaze on her. “Witch, sorceress, it is only a word. I want to know what she’s done.”
The old man turned to face him, and Felicia was stunned to see tears in his eyes. “She did it. She stopped my magic from leaking.”
Further questioning, though, revealed that she’d only managed to stem the bleed. The missing chunk was still gone. Azzam’s access to his magic remained very limited. But it was more than he’d had a few hours before. It caused a wistful hope in Jamaal.
“Think her vampire husband will allow her to do the same for me?” he asked.
“He won’t have a choice,” Tariq declared imperiously.
Whereas Felicia knew Zane would require convincing if Ella showed any ill effects. “I think the more important thing to note is the fact we can do something.”
“Too little too late. The demons have already struck and won against my kind. Their victory with the djinn is just the beginning.”
“What do you mean?”
Azzam stroked his beard. “They managed to defeat us using humans. Let that sink in. Humans took down the most powerful users of magic. And those spirits are a result of a simple crack in the seal holding them prisoner. Once the wall that holds the rift shut fully tumbles down, we won’t have their weaker spirits attacking us. We shall be overrun by the legions lying in wait.”
“Legions?”
“Thousands of demons, in all their horrid glory and murderous intent, shall spill onto the land. If that happens, we are all doomed.”
Nine
After Azzam’s grim announcement, the vampire queen left them to check on Ella. Tariq took that time to settle his tired grandfather in a suite allocated to them by the human staff. A staff he kept an eye on. He knew how easily humans could be turned.
The queen’s assurance that they were loyal to her didn’t assuage his
concern. Their servants had been loyal to them, too, and look what happened.
Leaving his suite of rooms, he ran into Jamaal.
“Where are you going?” his brother asked.
“To talk with the queen. I want to know more about her witch.”
“Is it wise for us to separate?”
“Do you really think we’re any safer together?” Tariq arched a brow.
But Jamaal paced, his brow creased in worry. “We aren’t safe anywhere. They know we are here. They will come for us.”
“Which is why I strengthened the wards on this house and the grounds. Unlike our home, we will not be taken unaware.”
“If they’re not already here. You heard the demon speak through the girl.”
“Speak, yes,” Tariq admitted, “but not act, leading me to believe that her ability to command the spirits allocates her some protection.”
“Does it?”
“Why are you determined to hate her?” Tariq asked, only to immediately gain the insight on why. “You’re afraid she won’t be able to heal you like she healed Azzam.”
“You heard her mate. He doesn’t want her to do it again. And what if she can’t?”
“She will, and if her mate disagrees, then I’ll deal with it.” See how the vampire male liked being sent to the Antarctic with no one to suck on but penguins and seals.
“Even if she can plug the hole in me, what good does it do? It’s only a matter of time before the demons spill into his world and we’re all dead.”
“Meaning?”
“Why bother? Why not just have as much fun as we can?”
Because not bothering was what had led them to this in the first place. Complacency was their enemy. They’d spent so long doing their own thing—rarely interacting with the outside world—that they lost sight of themselves. Of everything.
Tariq was one of the few in the last decade to emerge from his glass shell only to realize how much everything had changed. The world held a lot less magic than before. Industrialization had killed off giant swaths of it. Cities were especially bad. Their energy lines disrupted by blasting and construction.
No wonder the ancient spells they’d taken for granted failed. Things would have been much different for his brethren had they not been taken by surprise.