She stared up at the ceiling for at least an hour before the door creaked open and Gertie crept inside.
“Oh, I thought you’d be asleep,” Gertie said sympathetically. Emma didn’t respond as the Spellcaster went to her bag
on the floor and pulled out a vial of silvery fluid. She blinked in surprise—she’s seen it before in her mother’s bedside table. “Here,” Gertie said, holding it out to her.“This should help with the nightmares.”
Emma took it, staring at it for several moments with uncertainty.
“It won’t hurt you, just drink it quickly. It tastes a bit like dirt.”
Emma’s nose wrinkled at the thought. With a steadying breath, she unstopped the vial and tilted it back. The contents were bitter, and earthy tasting, though it coated her tongue and her throat, warming her. She fought the urge to gag and Gertie laughed.
“It’s not pleasant, but it’ll do the trick.”
When it hit Emma’s belly, her eyelids become nearly impossible to keep open. Long, silky fingers of sleep coiled around her, wrapping her up in blissful darkness.
She awoke the next morning to Gertie lightly shaking her. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, a thread of shock ran through her: she’d slept through the night without a single nightmare. Part of her wondered if the reason Levaroth hadn’t appeared was due to whatever Gertie had given her—but then she recalled that Levaroth had met with her while she was awake. Regardless, she felt more rested than she had in weeks.
They left the house and piled into the SUV with only a basket of warm muffins from Gwyndoline and a thermos of coffee. Morning light had only begun to chase away the stars, offering a faint pink and orange glow at the very edge of the sky.
“My first contact is quite near,” Gertie told them.“We’d walk, but the wildlife out here isn’t the safest to be around.”
Not to mention the Shediem likely crawling around, Emma thought.
They truly didn’t drive far, though there was no road to follow for most of the way, and Gertie had to direct Blaze through the swampy terrain. They pulled up to what looked like an abandoned coffeehouse on a gravel road. Its windows were boarded up and the wood slats were colored with profane graffiti art. The roof drooped inward, looking like one good, heavy rain would finally cause it to collapse. Thick, thorny brambles grew over the porch and climbed up the columns and exterior walls. All around, the foliage had gone unchecked for possibly a decade.
“Does anyone actually live here?” Emma asked through a bite of warm blueberry muffin.
Gertie nodded.“What you’re seeing is just an illusion meant to detract people from getting near it. You’ll see once we get inside.”
They opened their doors and began to pile out,Axel standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Emma. He examined the structure, and with the hint of a smirk peeking out, he looked more like himself than he had in the past week.“Even without the illusion, it’s certainly ugly.”
Blaze nodded his agreement while Sergei barked a laugh. Gertie made a sound of disapproval, though paired with a smile it didn’t have the same effect.
Emma glanced sidelong at Axel, smiling too, and his grin faded. Her heart twinged with guilt—she missed his cocky and easy manner.
In the distance, a chorus of shrill, animalistic shrieks rang out. Everyone in the group went rigid. Blaze’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword at his back.
Gertie looked around with lowered brows, then motioned for them to follow her inside the old building. As Emma’s foot touched the first step, the thick growth of bushes curled away out of her path. She gasped.
Sergei grinned over his shoulder—her awe of blatant magic was clearly amusing to almost everyone in the group. Axel brought up the rear, following close behind her and forcing her to keep moving. The screen door hung at an angle by only one set of hinges, but Gertie knocked on it anyway.
After a moment, when nothing happened, Gertie murmured something under her breath, and the solid wood door gave an audible click. She reached for the handle and her hand sailed right through the screen door, which flickered like a poor projection. Emma’s mouth hung open in shock.
Gertie pushed the door open and disappeared inside. Blaze went next, then Sergei. Emma hesitated for a moment, until another round of howls in the distance made her step through.
Inside, a cobweb-covered bulb glowed with just enough light to keep them from tripping. From what Emma could see, it truly had been a coffeehouse at one time. Chairs and tables were stacked in piles, pushed against the walls, allowing only enough room to shuffle through the narrow space. A thick layer of dust coated the entire room, muting colors and making Emma’s nose itch.
“August?” Gertie called as she led them into the back.
Three doors loomed before them: one in front of them and one on either side. But they didn’t bear the usual pictograms for restrooms—instead, they were marked with outlined shapes and symbols that Emma didn’t recognize. Gertie didn’t hesitate, pulling open the door on the right, which bore twisting lines that might have represented snakes from the way they coiled together, and on either side had two crescent moons facing away from each other. It was visible on the inside of the door as well, as if it had been burned all the way through.
Gertie marched through, unafraid of who or what could hear them. Behind Blaze, Emma saw a dark staircase that led down to a basement. The memory of another set of stairs flashed in her mind. The darkness that reached out for her. The smell of bleach. Her mother’s fearful cry.
Emma’s breathing turned ragged. She pasted herself against the wall, leaning into it for support. Blaze turned on the first step, noticing her reaction, and his expression softened.
“Hey.” He strode toward her and cupped her cheek. “I’m right beside you, it’s okay.”
Emma squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, blocking out the memory until her breathing normalized. Her hands still shook, so she balled them into fists and leaned back on them. When she opened her eyes, everyone watched her, but Blaze leaned forward and blocked them from view.
His concerned gaze held the question asking if she was ready, and after another moment, she nodded. He went first, glancing back after a few steps to make sure she was okay. For that she was grateful. Her heart picked up speed again the darker it became and her hand skated across the handrail for support.
“Is there no light?” she asked as quietly as she could manage, having to guess where each step was, wondering how far down it went.
Blaze’s warmth directly in front of her reassured her, his soft steps pulling her deeper.
Instead of answering Emma’s question, Gertie called out, “August! It’s me, Gertrude.”
When no answer came, Emma released a shaky breath. Her lungs felt tight. When she was no longer able to bear the inky black, she fished her cellphone from her pocket, but behind her a hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed.
“Don’t,” Sergei whispered.
“Why?” Emma asked, louder than she meant to. She flinched from her voice echoing off the walls.
“Down!” Blaze bellowed.
Yellow sparks shot toward them. Sergei pulled her back with him. The side of her knee slammed against the wooden stair, and she bit down on her bottom lip to muffle her cry.
The stairway went dark again for another moment before little blue lights, like glinting fireflies, tentatively rose in the air a few feet in front of Emma. She could barely make out Gertie’s form at the bottom of the steps.
The floating bits of blue light drifted forward, taking the shape of an elk that grew in size until its antlers were as wide as the staircase and its hooves clacked on the stone floor. The light that pulsed from it illuminated rows of shelves. Colored light spilled from Gertie’s palm, meeting the creature and flowing over it like a lazy fog.
Emma didn’t dare breathe as their magic connected. The elk held perfectly still, blinking up at the rest of them. When its attention turned to Emma, its enormous rack tilted with curi
osity.
Finally, the elk shrunk, then vanished in brilliant blue light. Gertie’s magic disappeared too, throwing them back into stark darkness.
“Nzortica,” a gruff male voice said.
Lights from the room below came to life. A man in a pair of torn, tan corduroy pants and a matted wool sweater surveyed them. Slowly they all got to their feet.
“My apologies, Gertrude,” the man that Emma assumed was August said.“Whispers of our kind being possessed, or frauds altogether, have made me a little jumpy.” His eyes flashed with violet light before a crooked smile overtook his wrinkled face.
Gertie bounced down the last step and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his middle. He was at least a foot taller than her and looked to be in his late sixties, possibly early seventies.
The rest of their group descended the last few stairs and entered the dusty storage room that smelled of mildew.
“Who’s the girl?” August asked, eyeing Emma with equal parts interest and caution.
Her jaw snapped shut—the mark had flared to attention.
“Doesn’t seem like the type of company you’d keep.”
Emma tried to ignore the mixture of anger and shame that emerged at his statement. He could sense her Shediem blood and likely the mark. Great, everyone can tell that I’m a freak.
She glanced over at Blaze. His shoulders tensed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t meet Emma’s gaze. On her other side, Axel stared unabashedly at her, a small, cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“August, this is Blaze, his brother Axel, Emma, and Sergei.” Gertie pointed to each of them as she said their names, and his eyes tracked from person to person, lingering on Sergei for a moment before looking back to Emma.
“Hmph,” he grunted, then he spun on his heel and walked back to the rows of shelves.
Gertie followed at a brisk pace, waving the rest of them forward.
Emma passed shelves filled with murky jars and damp, sagging boxes. Her eyes snagged on one large jar that contained a dark mass. Though the grime on the outside made it difficult to make it out, it was clear that whatever was inside moved. She shivered, clutching her jacket tighter.
August walked quickly for such a frail-looking man. He was several paces in front of Gertie, leading them out of the musty storage room and into what looked like a small apartment.
The armchairs and lounges looked like they were from the seventies, their horrid rusty orange-and-brown upholstery torn, with stuffing as well as the occasional spring poking through. August gestured for them to sit, and reluctantly, they all carefully dropped into the sagging cushions. Sergei sat beside Emma on the small sofa.
“Tea?” their host called to them, though his tone didn’t suggest he required a response.
She would have been glad for a warm drink to rinse out the layer of dust that seemed to coat her throat, but she wasn’t sure it would do any good. The tea would likely be as old as everything else around them, and likely just as dusty.
“We’re fine, August,” Gertie replied tightly.“We were hoping to offer you and the Loradoches a job.”
The loud clattering of china made Emma jump. A rusted spring in the sofa ripped through the striped fabric by her thigh, and she scooted over a fraction to avoid being infected with tetanus. Her eyes flicked up to find Blaze watching her with mild amusement.
August set down a tray with a pot and six mismatched mugs all filled with a steaming dark brown liquid on the table in front of them. The scent wafted into the air, reminding Emma of gasoline with the consistency of mud. She wrinkled her nose, unable to stop herself. Blaze regarded the beverage with as much disdain as one would a banana slug.
August took a cup and settled himself in the worn chair beside Emma. A twig floated to the top of the steaming brew, bobbing on the surface, but the man sipped it without a moment’s hesitation.
No one else reached for a cup, until August’s dark eyes darted to each of them expectantly. Gertie moved first, then Sergei. Finally, Emma bent over to grab one at the same time as Blaze, their fingertips brushing, sending a current of heat up her arm. Beside Blaze, his brother raised an eyebrow, and Emma’s cheeks heated. Axel made no move to grab the last cup and no one said anything, though she heard August grunt in disapproval.
Louisiana was already much warmer than Seattle, but the hot mug still delivered a sense of warmth and security that Emma craved. She had to remind herself several times—while Blaze and Gertie took turns explaining why they were there—that the liquid was not coffee. She stared into the opaque sludge as something that resembled a leaf broke the surface.
Forcing herself not to grimace, she listened to Blaze telling August of her mother’s abduction. Sergei offered bits and pieces—but not even he knew everything. There were gaping holes that they glossed over, and Emma waited for the usual questions. Waited for the weighted pauses for her to inject bits of information into, but they never came.
“In the past few weeks there have been reports of entire covens being abducted. The Shediem aren’t going to ask nicely. This is about amassing as many powerful beings in their army as they can before war begins,” Blaze said with urgency.
August sank deeper into his chair, as if hoping to become a part of it. His eyes didn’t lift from his cup, even after Blaze waited for him to speak.
“Gertie,” he whispered at last, shaking his head. Then his eyes lifted to her. They flashed purple once more, but there was sadness in them.“You bring these people to my doorstep knowing I don’t belong to the Loradoches anymore?”
Gertie’s eyebrows lifted.“Since when?”
“Surely you knew?” August replied.
Gertie shook her head, and he sighed.
“They kicked me out ten years ago. I haven’t practiced magic since…until you came.”
Emma swallowed hard. That explained the dusty apartment he clearly hadn’t left in ten years.
“By who? Tabby?” Gertie asked.
August looked down at his lap, shrugging. His shoulders drooped as a sob escaped him. Emma turned to Gertie, who rose and placed her still-full cup onto the coffee table before moving to stand in front of him.
“She married that Daryl.You remember him?”August wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater.
Gertie nodded.
“He convinced her to force me out. Convinced the elders that I had lost my mind.”
Emma’s heart squeezed tightly. The man before them might have once been a great Spellcaster, but he was an old hermit now. Gertie patted his shoulder as he sniffled again.
When he had composed himself, he looked around. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” Then he stood, dismissing them.
“Well that was a bloody waste,” Sergei grumbled as they left the old man in his rotting house.
“Where to next?” Blaze asked Gertie once they were all back inside the SUV.
Above the rumble of the engine, a long, high-pitched howl made them all go still. Axel’s frame began to tremble in the seat next to Emma. His hands were clenched into fists on his thighs, his knuckles white.
Since when did Shediem frighten him?
“This place is infested with Shediem,” Blaze said darkly.
How much longer would it be until they figured out she was in their midst? That she was more Shediem than Giborim or even human? Emma didn’t want to think about how they’d react to her then. Axel seemed to know, and Gertie knew she was carrying something resembling a Shediem inside her, but that wasn’t it. Her father was a prince of Sheol. A full-blooded monster. Her mother was only a quarter Giborim; mostly human. But Emma had absorbed the power of a prince. Even if she managed to remove the mark, there was still the fact that Belphegor’s power was in her blood. Soon, she’d be a mix of all the princes—assuming they didn’t kill her first.
With every depraved sound from the creatures growing closer, the truth of what she was becoming settled further into her chest, a weight dragging her into the bottom
less depths of despair. Each second that ticked brought her closer to the next time her father would steal her back to Sheol. When she’d betray those she cared for yet again.
This time they drove back on paved roads, passing abandoned vehicles that had been broken into and stripped for parts. Whether to sell or use for other purposes, Emma didn’t know. The exquisite French architecture that New Orleans was known for surrounded them, though the city looked like a ghost town. The only humans that milled about looked like they were either strung out on drugs or looking for another fix. The vehicle slowed, quieting the treads, and Gertie cloaked the vehicle so as not to draw attention.
In the shadows, tall, lanky creatures stirred, waiting for their prey. Their yellow eyes tracked the car’s movement despite the spell that hid them from view. Emma swallowed hard at the memory of the Nybbases she and Adrianna had fought four months ago.
“Here,” Gertie instructed. Blaze parked the SUV outside a tall apartment complex. The double doors that led inside were chained shut, and thick iron bars covered them. Many of the windows in the apartments were also boarded or barred. Not a single light shone in any window, but Emma knew the city was not empty. Its inhabitants simply knew what monsters prowled the streets—and it wasn’t just Shediem.
One man sat on his balcony, strumming on what appeared to be a ukulele as though the city teemed with life and vibrancy.
Slowly, they got out of the car. The man, who looked to be in his forties, had a thick, dark beard and a forest-green beanie that capped a head of long, greasy blond hair. He never paused his playing, though his eyes watched them approach.
Emma silently mourned for the great city. There was so much talent in New Orleans alone, it was like its own beacon for anyone looking to escape the monotony of daily life—to just come and live. Her heart bled for those forced to hide in terror all over the world. Their lives were now sport to the creatures that openly hunted on the streets. Would the humans ever get to live again?
The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3) Page 14
