Don't Stop Believing

by Eve Langlais

  “Then use me.” Before I could grasp his intent, Kane cut himself.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped.

  He hit the ground on his knees and held out his bleeding arm over the sigil. His gaze met mine. “Saving you.”

  “They’ll still kill me.” I could hear the discontent. A mob who would tear me limb from limb.

  “Not if you give them what they want. Funnel the spell through me.”

  “What spell? I don’t know any.” I huffed in a panic. “I thought the ritual needed my blood to work.”

  “The spell needs your Earth based magic, but any blood can start the process.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I wailed.

  “Just go with your instinct. Use me. Think of me as the battery.”

  I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. The people around us began to boo, their anger palpable.

  Something had to be done. A glance to my side showed Darryl staring at the moon. We’d not reached the full peak of it.

  I dove on Kane and slapped a hand over the gash in his wrist. As if I’d closed a connection, the sigil ignited, if weakly.

  Fizzled. And wobbled.

  About to extinguish.

  Kane pushed me away. “There’s still time. Quick before the spell collapses. We don’t have much time. The planets are aligning.”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  He mouthed, Love you, sweetheart.

  Before I could blink, a sword burst through his chest.

  31

  Darryl stood behind him, smirking. Triumphant. As Kane slumped, bleeding out over the pattern, Darryl aimed a sword at me.

  “Cry, witch. Cry for your lover. It will make the magic more powerful.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I exclaimed. “Did your mother not hug you as a child?” I huffed, icy rage and despair filling me.

  “What will you do, witch? Nothing. Because I will kill you and drain you.” A cry drew my attention to my daughter being held in a headlock by her boyfriend.

  She clawed at his arm, squealing, “Let me go.”

  Jace sound almost apologetic as he said to Winnie, “If I do, you’ll die with her.”

  “I’m okay with that,” Darryl drawled.

  A bitchy mom would have said, something smart ass like, Hey kids, guess you wished we’d left when I said we should.

  But I only had a moment to live. A second to do something.

  Anything.

  My emotions roiled, a tempest in a Naomi-pot, about to burst free in a hiss of angry steam. The angrier I got, the more the temperature dropped, and I remembered what the spell had shown me when I asked who controlled The Chill.

  Me.

  A magic that didn’t require a sigil to wield. It came because my chaotic emotions called it. It was mine, and I wanted to use it.

  Let’s start a fight.

  By accepting it, I invited it into me. The thing the magic had been trying to do all along. The magic my grandma left me. It finally came home. Filled me with strength.

  The temperature plummeted, and people noticed.

  Every breath fogged. My anger, my pain, my everything turned cold. The Chill was me, my emotions taking shape. Whisked out of me to leave me frozen inside.

  “You shouldn’t have killed Kane.” The words were an icy mist.

  “Even now you would forgive him?” Darryl sneered. “Weak. Like the rest of your family.”

  “More like tempered steel, mother fucker,” I muttered, watching as Darryl’s dagger began its arc as if in slow motion.

  “Today is not a good day to die. For me. In case that wasn’t clear…” I faded off on my ruined heroic speech and dropped to my knees to put my hand on the mark carved into the ice. They’d run it deep, making it into a channel that filled with Kane’s blood. It throbbed, wanting to release the spell, but it needed one more ingredient.

  Me.

  Only they’d not counted on me being alive when I was added.

  I blew ice, and the fire in the sigil lines frosted.

  “What are you doing?” Darryl exclaimed, lifting his dagger for try number two.

  “You don’t mind if I make some modifications, do you?”

  Darryl didn’t like that one bit. His arm went to slash, only to find out Kane wasn’t quite dead. He threw himself at Darryl, and the pair of them hit the ground and rolled, grunting. The blood ignited even more of the circle.

  The matrix ignited all the way around the hole. The atmosphere electrified.

  Darryl stood and kicked Kane’s limp body. He smirked, and everything in me froze. The very air hung in chilly silence.

  “Your turn to bleed,” he said, waggling his knife.

  “No.” One of the most assertive things I ever said, because in that moment I understood I had a few choices.

  I could do nothing. Simply let Darryl slice my throat and use me to open some mystical door to another dimension.

  Die without a fight?

  I’d rather smite these assholes using my magic. I didn’t figure I needed to kill them all, just their demon-possessed leaders. That was probably the most sensible course since the portal would remain closed.

  On the other hand, the peeved minions would probably kill me. Possibly my kids, too. And for what?

  To prevent the Orgh’kks from getting their hands on some magic? Why should I care?

  It was as if my grandmother suddenly stood beside me and every single story she’d ever told me merged into one. I finally understood and said slowly, “The Maed’doulain’a were the ones who took away your magic. Locked it away.” They used their innate Earth magic to protect against the invaders.

  “Meddling bastards,” was the sneered reply.

  “Only because you harmed my world.” I could suddenly see it, see how the original seventeen fled a dying world by coming into mine, bringing their magic and violence.

  “They had no right to hide the source of our power.”

  A secret my family guarded for centuries until I failed.

  And now, because of my inability to see before now, I’d die.

  Unless…

  “What if I cooperated?” I said, eyeing the illuminated sigil. “You don’t have to kill me to open a gateway to that other world.”

  “But killing you is the fun part. I can’t wait to taste your blood.”

  I’d had just about enough of psycho Darryl. My words like icy daggers, I said, “You want magic. I’ll give you magic.” Unlike the eleven, I didn’t need blood or the shape on the ground.

  I spoke in words I didn’t understand but that thundered.

  The world disappeared in a blaze of white light. I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. Behind the lids I could see the outline of two doors. One a tiny ragged tear barely patched together. I was more interested in the full portal covered in sigils. Warnings. So many cautions that I ignored.

  It called to me. Begged me to open it. I threw cold, arctic power at it, trying to slice open that spot between the worlds. The magic hit the door and dispersed against it with a discordant squeal that made the world scream. I strained the very bounds of strength trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  I heard a voice shouting, “She’s trying to open the full gate.”

  “No, she can’t.”

  “Don’t let her.”

  “We can only contain a small piece.”

  Small piece of what? I wondered.

  “She’ll destroy us all.”

  Would I? Why should I care when they were all willing to sacrifice me?

  I eyed the portal and realized there was a lock in the center of it.

  Guess who was the key?

  32

  The millisecond I stuffed my spirit into that lock, I realized I might have erred.

  For one, there was a reason they’d carved a tiny door. Something waited on the other side, and when the portal opened, it blew past me in a fury.

  I could only watch as the magical storm I’d unleashed shot off in different d
irections, seemingly random until I realized some of the glowing people got brighter.

  As if a beacon, the furious spirit went after the brightest of the Orgh’kks, buffeting them, scouring the glow from their flesh and drawing yelps. It was hard to feel anything but sympathy; after all, the Orgh’kks chose to wear the mud containing the decaying remains of an angry spirit.

  It was amazing how much I understood too late.

  The Orgh’kks never had magic of their own. They’d stolen it by creating a small portal to another other dimension. Somehow, they trapped a piece, the equivalent of a human limb, from a being of power, a portion of it, anyhow. Used it to give them magic.

  The original seventeen fled their world, and, when Earth’s magic eluded them, sought a new source of power. They found it and caused trouble, enough that my ancestors slammed the door shut to their magic, cutting off the source. The part they’d stolen, became inert and was hidden in the lake by my ancestors, waiting for the day when the portal opened again and it could be reunited with the rest of itself.

  What the Orgh’kks didn’t count on? The being noticed the theft. And it was pissed.

  The Orgh’kks had thought the mud imbued with the esoteric remains would make them powerful. That when the door opened, they’d be given the magic, the eleven promised.

  Instead, it marked them for death.

  Calling what entered my world a ball of energy was too simplistic. There was method to its fury. Cold calculation as it swept and gathered all its stolen pieces. For one stupid moment, the idiots on the ice cheered. They thought this was a good thing. That I’d brought their magic back.

  Fools. What I’d actually done was given what was stolen back to its owner and then handed the thieves to the seething entity on a platter of ice.

  The cheering stopped when the lake’s cold covering cracked. A chunk of it— with people still on it— disappeared below the water.

  That was when the screaming started.

  33

  The cynical part of me watched the panic, unmoved. For fuck’s sake. What did they think might happen, having that many people on ice only a few weeks old? Then I remembered how they all stood there watching me going to my doom, rooting for my death.

  Remember the Good-bye song? I would have sung it if I didn’t have more important things to worry about than drowning Orgh’kks. I was kind of busy holding open a door and trying to figure out how to let go without dying in the process.

  The glow left the lake, and silence fell. Eerie silence that saw people not daring to move lest more of them plunge into the icy depths. Those that fell in the water and sank? I imagine hypothermia killed them before they drowned. But I didn’t have time to worry about it.

  I might have peed myself a little when it exploded: a thing without true shape or sound, yet all could see it, a cloud of pure magic that spoke without words.

  I AM WHOLE.

  “What is that?” someone muttered.

  The cloud suddenly had dark pits for eyes, a dozen of them, and it narrowed in on the speaker before it boomed. I AM GOD.

  A whiner in the crowd also felt a need to speak up. “What happened to our magic?”

  A different idiot pointed an accusing finger. “That thing stole it. Give it back.”

  Big fog god loomed suddenly at the idiot’s level. YOU WANT. I GIVE.

  The cloud fist slammed the speaker flat like a rock had dropped from space.

  The good news? He didn’t feel a thing. The bad? The fog god wasn’t done. WHO. NEXT.

  No one else said a word, but me.

  “Listen here, demon fog monster, I brought you into this world, and if I have to, I’ll take you out of it.”

  YOU DARE.

  The fog god tried to intimidate me. Me, a woman who’d now faced down death numerous times and won. When would I be taken seriously?

  I glared right back. “Don’t you sass me.”

  I AM GOD.

  “If you say so. I’d like proof.” I pointed to Kane. “Fix him.”

  I DO NOT—

  “I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for proof. You say you’re god, then bring him back,” I snapped.

  The fog suddenly invaded Kane’s pores in ways that were probably painful. His body jerked. Then twitched. I didn’t relax until I saw the whites of his eyes and he said, “What the fuck happened?” I’d take that over him asking for brains.

  I wanted to throw myself at him, but I still had a god to deal with. Not to mention, I was kind of stuck in a door.

  “So, um, god, now that you’ve gotten all your pieces back, you should go home,” I suggested.

  NO.

  It was like dealing with a stubborn child, or a middle-aged man.

  “This isn’t your world.”

  MINE.

  The temper tantrum rattled the ice, and there was screaming as chunks splintered and people slipped under.

  Why, oh why were they all standing there still? Did they not see everything had gone awfully sideways?

  Kane rose to his feet and flexed before looking at me. “We need to close the door.”

  How cute he said we. “I’m open to suggestions that don’t involve me dying.”

  “Close it the same way your ancestors did it.”

  “Any ideas how they did that?”

  “Your magic.”

  The magic, which was currently stuffed in the lock. Was it as simple as me yanking it out?

  “I’m going to close it,” I felt a need to warn. After all, the last time my family shut it, we kind of cut off the fog demon’s hand, although I wanted to say tentacle because it had come through a small door.

  NO.

  I withdrew, closing the door slowly, wedging the shape extending out from it. How much was on the other side?

  “You can’t stay here. You’re dangerous.”

  MAKE DEAL.

  For a second, I almost told it to fuck off. I could easily shut the door and lock it. Yeah, me and my kids would still be the only way to open it. Meaning we’d still be cursed. Or we could kill everyone on the ice and make sure there was no one left to hurt us.

  I looked at the god I’d brought into the world and said, “What kind of a deal are you thinking?”

  What followed was my bargain with the devil. I negotiated, even threatened a bit, I won some concessions, I gave god a few. In the end, though, I’d done one truly important thing.

  I ended the curse on my family line and remained alive to enjoy it. But I wasn’t sure I’d be talking to my kids unless they really upped their game this Mother’s Day.

  34

  One conquered world later—which, for the curious, took less than seventy-two hours. God knew how to put on a show for the masses.

  WANT.

  “It’s not ready yet.” I slapped the god’s smoky hand before he could touch the cooling cookies. Low carb peanut butter with Lily chocolate chips.

  My god didn’t smite me, and he knew better to threaten, given I was the only thing keeping the door wedged open and his magic fed. Slam it shut and it would severe the tie and he’d be separated from a part of himself until someone opened it again.

  More than five hundred years, give or a take a few as it turned out. I’d finally managed to get my hands on the missing books. And what do you know, the one that wouldn’t open before finally let me read it. It was the story my grandmother told me in pieces, but in a way that told me everything I needed to know, too late.

  Then again, my way had turned out pretty good.

  I’d saved the world, returned magic to it, kind of. God was picky about who he gifted with power. For example, most of the eleven? Didn’t get any. Like Darryl. Not only did he not get magic, he lost his demon spark. New god ate it leaving him a mundane human again. As for the remaining princes? They scattered.

  I saw Darryl from time to time when I went to the station to gas my car or buy lottery tickets. He hid in the back, pot belly rounder than ever, and he’d lost most of his hair. Did he remember the time f
rom his possession? Me?

  I honestly didn’t care.

  Thinking I was doing the right thing, I tracked down Trish with the goal of having her exorcized, only to have her freak out because apparently, she really liked her demon. Too bad. I wasn’t leaving my best friend possessed.

  Trish pouted after and told me to never speak to her again. That hurt, especially given all the stuff she’d done to manipulate me. Had Trish forgotten her part in trying to get me sacrificed?

  Jojo told me to give her time. I would, but at the same time was looking into a spell to see if I could ease the distance between us. This time round, I wasn’t giving up our friendship so easily.

  Orville also lost his demon to a young senator going places. Without it, he became reclusive and while he wouldn’t look me in the eye, he continued to make special dishes obviously created with me in mind. While I knew he remembered us being friends, with his demon gone, it wasn’t the same, this version being a shadow of the man I’d grown to love and respect.

  While I had lost my shop, I didn’t lack for a job. As the world had to deal with a new normal—hustled along by thousands of headlines in the media freaking about the end of the world—I became the priestess of a new religion and main wrangler of a god prone to throwing temper tantrums. It might have taken more out of me if I’d not had Kane at my back.

  I wasn’t the only one with a title and a job with the new god—who decided he wanted to be called george. No caps. Kane—who kept his inner demon after making a blood vow—was the priest in charge of handling heretics and skeptics. It should be noted the punishment was unconventional, and cruel. So very cruel and involved “Baby Shark.” Just gonna drop that and leave it there.

  My children ended up having to grovel quite a bit before I forgave them—and insisted they dumped their respective partners. Eventually, I gave them roles in the new order that put them above everyone but me or Kane. A man who’d given his life for me.

  Valentine’s Day was going to cost me a fortune if I hoped to compare.