Between the Blade and the Heart

by Amanda Hocking

  “Even roses have thorns, Malin. We were good.” She reached out, brushing back my hair from my face.

  Then she was pressed up to me again, her mouth on mine, kissing me fiercely the way she always did, and as much as I wanted to give in and kiss her back, I just couldn’t. I pulled away and put my hand on her shoulder, pushing her from me.

  “This just isn’t the right time,” I insisted.

  “I know the timing is terrible, but this might be it, Malin. You do realize that, right? What we’re going up against, there’s no way we can all make it out alive. So the time is now or never.” She stared at me. “Do you want me or not?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I’ll take that as a no, then.” She started walking away, so I grabbed her hand, stopping her.

  “Quinn, it’s not that simple.”

  She whirled on me. “No, for me it is that simple! I’ve wanted to be with you since the day we met, and I knew it. You’ve never been able to figure out what you really want. I kept waiting for you to know and I was certain that one day you’d come to your senses, but…”

  “I never asked you to wait!” I shot back, and her face fell, like I had punched her in the stomach.

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” she replied thickly. “I will always care about you, and I will gladly follow you into whatever battle may come tomorrow. I won’t let you die and I won’t let the whole world come crashing down because of what’s happening between us. But I can’t keep doing this dance with you. I know it’s my fault. I know I kept hanging on long after I should, but … I’m done now.”

  “Quinn…” I tried to argue, but there was nothing I could say. Especially since she was just saying what I’d been trying to say for the past six months, but somehow hearing it aloud, and seeing the look on her face … it hurt so much more than I expected.

  Without saying anything more, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, and suddenly I didn’t feel like being there anymore. I pushed my way out into the night air, which was much cooler and cleaner than inside the bar.

  I’d only taken a few steps when I heard Oona calling my name.

  “Mal, wait!” she shouted, so I turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m going back to the hotel to get some sleep. Stay. Have fun. Don’t get too drunk, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her eyes were narrowed in concern, but I didn’t wait for her to say more. I just turned and practically ran back to the hotel. I wasn’t in a hurry, really, it just felt better to run. When I made it back, my legs felt like jelly and my skin was flushed, both from the booze and the jog.

  We’d quickly discussed sleeping arrangements when we got here, so I went to the room that I would share with Oona and Asher, while Atlas and Quinn would take the other one farther down the hall.

  Asher lay on the bed farthest from the door, shirtless, with his back to me. In the moonlight streaming through a gap in the curtains, he looked so serene and peaceful.

  Wordlessly, I took off my shoes and pants before sliding under the covers beside him. We hadn’t talked about whether I would be sleeping in his bed or bunking with Oona in hers, and I hoped he didn’t mind. I wrapped my arm around him and pressed my head against his back.

  For a few moments we lay that way, with me trying to quiet the anxiety raging in my head, until finally he said, “Are you okay?”

  “I just don’t want to be alone tonight,” I admitted.

  He took a deep breath, then put his arm over mine. “Okay.”

  FORTY-NINE

  The next day the NorAm Overland Express took us as far as Belmopan in Belize, and from there we had to take a cab. We all piled into an old van. I sat in the seat farthest back, squished between our luggage with Oona, while the others made do with the seats in front.

  Everyone else had slept on the express down from Sugarland, except for me. But I was glad I was awake. Halfway through the long ride, the desert scenery had given way to the most beautiful, lush landscape I’d ever seen. Tall vibrant trees lined our path, and I’d even spotted a few howler monkeys hiding in the branches as we zoomed past.

  When we had finally gotten off, everyone had commented on how strangely gorgeous it was here. It was like being transported into another realm, a fairy-tale land. The air was thick and humid, and it smelled sweetly of flowers. Even the sun seemed to shine brighter here, so Oona had bought a pair of oversized sunglasses at the station. It was so unlike the city back home.

  During the cab ride, I leaned out the window, staring in awe at all the green that surrounded us, and at a flock of bright red birds taking flight.

  Among the greenery were stunning homes and buildings made of limestone with ornate architecture, and massive stone temples looming in the distance. Eventually the trees thinned out and high-rises replaced the rain forest.

  Farther on, the buildings began to look rougher and older and became smaller and were crammed closer together. The air became drier and hotter, like sitting too close to a fire, as the paved roads gave way to bumpy dirt. The area lost all pretense of being stable and devolved fully into a shantytown.

  “El Noveno Anillo,” the cabdriver explained to us, motioning to the homes made of mismatched plywood and sheets of corrugated metal. “This is, uh, how you say—afueras?”

  “The suburbs,” Oona translated for him, and he snapped his fingers in excitement.

  “Si, si.” He nodded, and with a push of a button, he rolled up all the windows of the van, sealing out the growing stench of sewage and decay. Then he blasted the AC to keep the heat at bay. “This is the suburbs of the Gates.”

  “Why is it called El Noveno Anillo?” I asked, but he couldn’t hear me over the racket the air-conditioning was making.

  “It means ‘the Ninth Ring,’” Oona answered. “I imagine it’s a reference to Dante’s Inferno, with the ninth circle of hell being the final one before the devil.”

  The cab moved slowly through the town, since the narrow winding roadway was filled with potholes and pedestrians who paid no mind to any kind of traffic laws. The inhabitants appeared to be an even mixture of humans and immortals, but they were all ragged and dirty, and they stared at me through the window with angry glares.

  Not that I blamed them. Living in a place like this had to be awful.

  Finally the van rolled to a stop just where the dilapidated homes were buttressed against a tall adobe wall. Directly before us was a large archway, with the view inside only revealing more rust-colored walls.

  The driver hit the meter and turned back to us. “This is as far as I go.”

  Oona stepped out, taking off her sunglasses, while I paid the driver and the others started unloading our gear.

  “So this is it?” She looked back over her shoulder at me. “I just expected there to be actual gates, or something. But this is just a big open entryway.”

  “It’s actually a poor translation,” Quinn explained, referencing something we’d both been taught at the academy. “Originally, when it was first settled thousands of years ago, it was called In Sabatu Kurnugia, but someone mislabeled it on a map as Baba Kurnugia, and Baba meant Gates. Eventually that took hold, and whenever English became the standard language around here instead of Sumerian, it officially became the Gates of Kurnugia.”

  “Well what does In Sabatu mean?” Atlas asked.

  “Rings,” I said and pointed to the walls. “They didn’t have a word for ‘labyrinth’ back then, so it was referring to the maze of walls that encircle it, making it difficult for anyone to find their way through.”

  Oona considered this for a moment as she looked ahead. “So it’s really the Rings Around Kurnugia.”

  Just as she said that, a creature walked by the entrance, on the inside of the Gates. It was a massive reptile, with dark emerald scales and four long legs. With a long snout filled with jagged teeth, it looked like a cross between a crocodile and a velociraptor.
r />   I’d never seen one in real life before, but based on the pictures I’d seen in textbooks, I guessed it was a mahamba.

  “What is inside there”—the cabdriver motioned toward the Gates—“the physical world cannot hold it. A gate would do nothing. It is the brujería that keeps them inside.”

  The mahamba stared at us a moment longer—its large green eyes with slit-black pupils locked on us. Then it blinked and turned to walk away, disappearing behind the adobe wall that separated us.

  The very second the van was empty, the driver turned around and sped off down the road, going much faster on the way out than he had on the way here.

  While most of El Noveno Anillo had seemed heavily populated, the area just around the wall seemed deserted, but that was just as well, because I preferred to get ready with some modicum of privacy.

  Oona’s large backpack of thaumaturgy gear was almost toppling her over, so Atlas traded his much smaller backpack for hers. She kept a few protection and healing potions in his bag, in case we needed them on short notice.

  I crouched down over the bag I’d gotten from Samael, preparing to dole out weapons before we entered the Gates. We’d already discussed who would get what, trying our best to align the best weapon for each person’s skill sets.

  Tyrfing—the Norse sword that never missed its target—went to Oona; Kusanagi—the sword forged inside a dragon—went to Quinn; Dyrnwyn—the flaming sword—went to Asher; and Sharur—the enchanted mace—went to Atlas.

  I kept Kalfu’s dagger—the smallest weapon but the one that could hopefully kill Tamerlane Fayette—for myself, sheathing it on my right side, while my Valkyrie sword Sigrún was sheathed on my left, and the rest of my belongings were in my knapsack on my back, aside from the sólarsteinn, which I put in my pocket.

  “You should have this.” Asher held his grandmother’s shield Rök out to me, but his eyes were downcast.

  This morning, when I awoke, he’d already been out of bed, and he’d hardly spoken to me, other than a few monosyllabic replies to questions I asked. On the express and in the van, he seemed to avoid sitting by me.

  Something was definitely up with him, but I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t have time to deal with it. Not now.

  “Thanks, but I don’t—” I began, but he cut me off.

  “You need this more than I do.” He cast me a slanted look. “Just take it.”

  “Thank you,” I said, because I didn’t want to argue, and I hooked it onto the bag on my back.

  “Should we do this, then?” Quinn asked, which was also about the first time she’d spoken to me today. But the encouraging look in her eyes let me know that she’d put our fight last night behind her.

  I glanced over at my other friends and saw a similar look in their eyes, even Asher’s. Supportive. Nervous. Brave. Whatever had happened between us before didn’t matter now. We had a mission—arguably the most important mission any of us had ever been on—and we were going to complete it to the best of our abilities.

  The heat was already getting to me, so I pulled my hair up in a ponytail, and then took the sólarsteinn out of my pocket. Holding it tightly between my hands, I closed my eyes and began chanting inside my head: Show me where the draugr Tamerlane Fayette is. Show me how to find him.

  Then I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

  At first there was nothing, and my heart pounded in my chest. But slowly I saw it grow—a prism of color and light shining through, pointing straight ahead, toward the very center of the demon-controlled city.

  “He’s in there,” I said, feeling both relieved and completely terrified. “Let’s go get him.”

  FIFTY

  As we passed under the archway, a strange tingling sensation ran through me. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant—sort of like the pins-and-needles feelings I got when my foot fell asleep.

  “Did you feel that?” Quinn asked.

  “Feel what?” Asher asked, instantly on high alert.

  Oona’s eyes darted around. “I didn’t feel anything.”

  I felt it, too, and exchanged a look with Quinn. “It must be because we’re Valkyries.”

  “What was it?” Oona pressed.

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just keep going.” I held the sunstone on the palm of my hand, with the prism of light pointing directly toward a solid wall in front of us. “The sólarsteinn is pointing straight ahead, but we can only go left or right. Where do you think we should go?”

  “The ossuary is supposed to be due north, but to get there, we needed to start going east, I believe,” Asher said as he pulled out his tablet.

  From where I was standing, I could see the screen as he pulled up the plans, but the image started blinking out and the screen went black. Asher kept tapping it and tried to reopen it, but the tablet remained lifeless.

  “Shit. This damn thing is acting up,” he growled.

  “The city is interfering with your reception?” Oona asked.

  “Mine, too.” Quinn had pulled out her phone when she saw Asher was having trouble with his tablet. “It’s not the reception—it’s just not working.”

  Asher let out a frustrated sigh. “Looks like we’ll be working from memory.”

  “So which way?” Atlas asked.

  “I guess we go left,” Asher replied.

  The outer edge of the Gates was a long corridor, with bare adobe walls towering over it, and the ground a dark crimson-red clay. A putrid odor of sulfur and rotten meat filled the hot air.

  Eventually, after a few turns, the hallway widened and opened up into an actual city. Not modernized, like the city outside of the slums or the one we lived in, but more like a bustling Bronze Age civilization.

  Small stone shops were set up, with wares hanging from their awnings. They were admittedly disgusting-looking wares, like entrails and bloodied ram’s horns, but the setup was similar to that of the street vendors at home.

  The shop owners appeared to be entirely demonic, most of them overtly so, with horrific appearances, but some were more humanoid. There did appear to be human tourists here as well, haggling with the demons over the price of their merchandise. A man was shouting that he’d come all the way from Papua New Guinea for some magical elixir, and they were fresh out.

  The demon selling the ram’s horns had dark crimson skin, reptilian eyes, and cloven hooves. He walked beside us a few steps, narrowing his eyes at us, then he leaned over and actually sniffed Quinn. She didn’t protest, because the demons outnumbered us, but the demon recoiled in disgust.

  “Move along,” he simpered with a forked tongue and shooed us away. He hopped back to his stand and started shouting, “Fresh Cambion horn! Perfect for any dysfunction you might be suffering in your nethers! Make your lovers happy tonight!”

  I glanced back at him and realized that those hadn’t come from a ram—they had come from Cambions like Jude. They were killing each other here, and then selling their parts in an open market.

  “Oh, come on.” An Aswang with its gaping mouth of angry teeth was arguing with a woman who looked relatively ordinary, except that she was selling necklaces made of tiny human toes. “Don’t pull a fast one on me, Lamia.”

  “That’s the price,” Lamia replied, snatching the toe-jewelry from the clutches of the Aswang. “Take them or leave them.”

  “This way,” Asher ordered, touching my arm, and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized I’d stopped and had been gaping at Lamia.

  “We shouldn’t linger here,” Atlas suggested, but he didn’t need to. The market was not a place I wanted to stay for a moment longer than I had to.

  Asher led the way through the crowded bazaar, and I tried to keep my head down. I didn’t want to see who was selling what. This whole place was a nightmare come to life.

  But by trying to keep my eyes off any of the horrors that surrounded me, I wasn’t exactly looking where I was going. I stumbled over my feet and tumbled forward, falling right into the wide-open arms of an iron statue. />
  The strap to my bag got caught on the statue’s hand, and it took a few seconds to pull myself free. But when I finally looked up, I instantly recognized who the statue had been made in honor of—the short curly hair, the high cheekbones, the powerful femininity. Ereshkigal.

  “I feel like you’re following me everywhere I go,” I mumbled, staring up into the dark, cold eyes of the statue.

  “Mal?” Oona asked. “Are you okay?”

  I shook it off and hurried on ahead, and soon enough we found the exit out the back of the market. Here, there were more narrow hallways, winding toward the ossuary at the center of the Gates. We just had to make sure that we chose the right ones.

  FIFTY-ONE

  As we walked in the stifling heat, I fell in step with Asher, while Atlas, Quinn, and Oona trailed a few steps behind us. The sólarsteinn worked almost like a compass. The light always pointed to the center of the city, and it didn’t take walls or buildings into account, so Asher used what he remembered to tell us where to turn.

  An olitau flew above, its large red leathery wings blasting hot wind over us, and we all crouched down to avoid getting scraped by its razor-sharp claws. The olitau was essentially a giant demonic bat, and it let out an angry cry as it flew off over the walls.

  “This way,” Asher directed when we hit a T-intersection, pointing us to the left, and we rounded the corner to bump right into a dead end. “Okay, let’s go right, then.”

  We turned around and walked maybe ten or twenty feet before the corridor turned into another dead end.

  “Shit.” He ran a hand through his short hair and turned around in circles, as if that would somehow make sense of the dead ends we encountered.

  “Maybe we just took a wrong turn,” Oona suggested rather unhelpfully.

  “Well, obviously, we did,” Asher muttered. “I just don’t know where.” He pulled out his tablet, angrily tapping at it as if that would suddenly make it work.

  “There’s no one around here.” Quinn gestured to the empty space surrounding us. “Why don’t you guys see if you can figure something out, and Atlas and I can go back and see if maybe we can find a sign or something?”