Portals Heather

by Leslie Edens Copeland

  "I'm going down there." My throat ached with fear for Emmett, and my heart felt like it would burst from my chest. I gave Lily and Sam a desperate look. They nodded.

  "Trenton! Oskar!" I shouted. Where were they? A snarl erupted behind us. We turned and froze at the sight of two vicious stone gargoyles where Trenton and Oskar had stood. They'd been standing apart—a distance of only twenty feet—but enough separation for Bellum to work his arts.

  Sam's eyes burned into mine, the ferocity in his mind growing stronger even as his body remained still.

  —Do something, Sam!

  Sam lowered his head and furrowed his brow. The giant stone creatures abruptly ran at us, snapping their enormous jaws.

  "Not that!" I shrieked. In fear, I fired spectricity from my open hand at the creatures.

  "Crux!" Sam scowled, holding a stunned Lily in his arms. She shook her head and groaned, then she stood, leaning against him. My defensive shock grazed them instead. Without my ring, I was a hazard, my powers unpredictable. The gargoyles continued to advance on me, unfazed by the spectricity.

  Out on the cloud plain, I glimpsed Emmett lying motionless, the Bellum stooping over him. I had to get to him. I balled up my fists, gritted my teeth, and stepped off the cliff's edge. My levitation held for a second. Then I skidded, sliding and bobbing, all the way down the cliff face. I crash-landed at the bottom, hard, and rolled over a few times. But I was down.

  Behind me, the cloud column was disintegrating, the gargoyles, Sam and Lily tumbling down with it. In seconds, the stone creatures would reach me. I knew I should've stayed with the others, but Emmett—! I ran toward him. Then a tug on my dress knocked me down. One of the gargoyles had stepped on the trailing end. Before I could get up, it gripped my head in its stony maw.

  "Hold!" Bellum's command boomed. I expected to be crushed any second, but the creature respected Bellum's order. He couldn't eat me—he was made of stone and had no throat—but he could certainly crush my head. I stayed still, afraid to move or breathe. But I could reach out with my mind.

  I knew then what we had to do. It was risky. It would expose us to future attack. But it didn't look like we had any future otherwise. I messaged Emmett.

  —Hear me, Emmett the All. Speak the unwritten. Summon us—by our spirit names!

  Emmett twitched. Bellum lifted his scepter and brought it down hard on Emmett's head, pinning him to the ground. Emmett's mouth opened, and he called out. "Tense! Oz! Stella Maris! Samhain and Aether!"

  I knew myself then, my spirit name, from the lips of the All. I had been, was, always would be. The Aether, quintessence, joiner of worlds.

  The gargoyles listened to their spirit names with their stone ears. Then the one holding my head dropped me, and the two creatures flanked me on either side. Sam and Lily followed behind me. We all pressed toward Emmett, answering his summons.

  "Back down, Bellum," I shouted in my bravest voice, though my knees shook. But the sight of Emmett's head pinned under Bellum's scepter broke my heart—and moved me forward.

  "Emmett! I call you forth. Your protégée summons you," I shouted.

  "Nonsense." The Bellum's voice stayed even and calm. "I'll crush him. This is how it's supposed to play out. And then—I swallow him." He bellowed with laughter, then knitted his eyebrows when we kept coming. "You can't help him," Bellum said.

  The beasts roared, and all five of us advanced. As we drew closer, Bellum removed his scepter from Emmett's head, and raised it to strike a killing blow. His jaw swung open, and again, his mouth distended like a reptile about to gorge itself on prey.

  A second before he landed a blow, I reached for Emmett's outstretched hand. I grabbed it in mine. I heard the words, insistent in my mind. I incanted.

  "All, Bellum, Aletheia, Plouton,

  Come apart, write him gone,

  Conceal the god's ten thousand faces,

  Hide his essence ten thousand places."

  I pulled. To my amazement, he was heavy and solid. I could not move him. Emmett sat up and gazed at me in awe.

  Bellum stayed his scepter mid-swing and took a deep bow, as if a performance had ended. Smoke enveloped the gargoyles. Out of the smoke emerged the shapes of two boys, Trenton and Oskar.

  "Congratulations. The All has triumphed," said Bellum, in a monotone voice.

  I knelt by Emmett's side, worried about what state I'd find him in. Would he have lost his memory, or be fading out? I embraced him tightly, and he protested.

  "Hey, not so tight! I have to breathe, you know," he said.

  What was this? He was speaking, he was breathing, he was—

  "He's alive! Oh, Emmett!" I squealed and hugged and squeezed him nearly to death.

  Emmett gasped and groaned until I released him. "Thank you," he said, his face smiling and pink. "I wanted to give up. Then I heard you calling."

  "But how did you—change?" I asked.

  Emmett shrugged.

  "Aha, a real boy at last," said Oskar, trying to be witty.

  "He blushes like a real boy," said Trenton. "I don't think we've seen that color on Emmett before, have we, Oz?

  "Never. I missed his earthly incarnations," said Oskar.

  "What happened to the All? Did you do this?" I glared at Bellum, who stood at attention, his spine stiff, his face slack with disgust.

  "Indeed, no. Evil would never attempt such a thing. The All has used you to convert himself. Did he not give you the words, to affect his subdivision? It is as always," said Bellum. He stuck out his long tongue in distaste.

  "As always? You're the guy who claimed you always win these fights!" said Trenton.

  "From my perspective, I do. I am no cruxing coward. But I have not triumphed, because the All is now concealed, and what we have here is a mere mortal. I can no longer challenge this." He spat at Emmett, who smiled at him, unconcerned.

  "Pshaw, semantics! Emmett's the winner and you know it!" said Oskar.

  "I admit I cannot challenge him." The Bellum sniffed. "But he has reduced himself to mortal life, and I hardly call that winning. He will forget much now, if not everything. Plus, I cruxed his incarnation." Bellum showed his long teeth.

  "Maybe he wants to forget." I put my hand on Emmett's warm, solid shoulder. "Maybe he doesn't like being a god."

  Emmett still said nothing, but laid his head fondly on my shoulder. He put his arm around me, and it felt really nice. My stomach tingled. Could he just stay like this?

  Bellum sounded like he was coughing up a hairball as he harrumphed around. "Ha! This mortal incarnation is but a cunning strategy. He has done such things before. Refuses to fight fair! Won't lose gracefully! Scatters, downgrades, forgets. Often, he has thrown himself down portals to reincarnate, escaping our battles. As I said, he does it all the time."

  "So why not give up, if you can't overcome his strategy?" I said. I wrapped my arm around Emmett. If he would only give up and leave Emmett alone.

  "I am the Bellum! I must challenge the All, or he would get above himself, without me to restrain him. We balance each other. Do you not realize?"

  He glared at Emmett. "I thought surely this time, trapped in my realm, with no portals, he could not escape, or reincarnate. I underestimated his cowardice." Bellum twisted my ring in his forehead, with creepy composure.

  I knew he wasn't done with Emmett yet, not by a long shot. Then Bellum laughed out loud, like he'd remembered a great joke. "My eventual defeat of the All is prophesied. I am certain of victory. And I have achieved my goal, for now. One day, I shall truly defeat the All and bring about the Coming End. Until then, mortals. Enjoy what your Emmett has become." Bellum's laughter boomed across the plain.

  I led Emmett away from him. Emmett followed meekly, his eyes glazed with confusion, complexion flushed pink, his hair springing up all over his head.

  "Good day, your All." Bellum's voice dripped with scorn. "Enjoying your little mortal consort this time around? Not even going to bother with infancy, I see. I must say, I approve."

/>   "Who is that guy? Why is he so rude?" whispered Emmett to me.

  "Why doesn't Emmett know who that is?" Trenton said.

  "I'm not even sure I know who you are at this point," said Oskar. "Let's get out of here. I do not want to be turned to stone again. Not cool."

  "Give me my ring back, Bellum," I said. "So I can take us home. You can't do anything more to Emmett now, so let us go!"

  "This old thing?" Bellum twisted the ring around and around in his forehead, where it resembled a sparkly black third eye. "I've sought the Ring of Esperance for two thousand years. No, I'll keep the spoils. But I will send you mortals back. Thank you, Aether, for giving me their spirit names. I can now easily send them wherever I wish. Or summon any of them with a word." He waved his long, skeletal hand. "I shall give you time to consider that. This new mortal Coterie is more talented than the old Four—young, clever, teachable. I would prefer you all join me in my new world."

  "We won't," I assured him.

  Bellum only smirked. "We shall see. Adieu, Emmett. Until your untimely demise, and we meet again." He raised his arms high and commanded, "Tense! Oz! Stella Maris! Samhain and Aether! These mortal children shall fly to their homes."

  Chapter Twelve

  The Infernal Junkyard

  Turning in the darkness of the portal, I collided with a warm buzz of energy. Emmett's living energy. I had touched it in the confusion of the portal.

  I reached out for him, then slammed instead into a solid, flat surface. Black lines stretched out before me. I lifted my head. I was staring at the rubberized floor of a school bus aisle. Next to the driver's seat, I saw a mound of something blurry and white.

  I heard a groan next to me. I sat up, recalling the energy I had touched. He lay curled on the floor, pale but living in the light of day. Emmett. I gently touched his face. It was warm. He opened his eyes—not black but darkest brown—and smiled up at me.

  "Aether. I'm hungry." His eyes searched mine. "Where are we?"

  I pushed him to make sure he wouldn't dematerialize. "We're in the old school bus. I can't believe you're alive."

  Emmett gave me a little push back and laughed. "You're alive, too."

  "We're alone," I said, looking around. "Bellum sent everyone home. But why are you here?"

  "I don't have a home, so I came with you." He smiled into my face, innocent as could be.

  "Yeah, that makes sense. You should stay with me," I said. I snuck another glance at him. Black curls, dark brown eyes, a sweet, blithe face that lit up like sunshine when he laughed—my pulse quickened, butterflies flittered . . . mortality had only made him cuter.

  Emmett pointed at the pile of white dust and particles on the floor in front of us.

  "I think it's Valente's bones," I said. "We should not leave them like that."

  Emmett tried to reach inside his ectoplasm, then chuckled. "That doesn't work anymore. A disadvantage of mortality. Still. There might be something here we can use."

  He teetered to the back of the bus, still getting used to his legs. Rummaging under the seat, he pulled out an urn.

  How did that get back there? I decided not to ask. "I'll levitate the ashes into it, but without my ring, it won't be easy."

  I closed my eyes and imagined Valente's round, smiling face, his deep voice, the twinkle in his eyes. He'd spent his haunt protecting the d'Espers. He hid our names, and he watched over us when our father couldn't. His portal saved Sam's life.

  Gratitude overwhelmed me. With tears in my eyes, I desired to honor Valente de los Santos. I heard a whiz and a bang. I saw stars and fell flat to the bus floor. Emmett sprawled next to me. The ashes were piled neatly in the urn.

  "You did it!" he said. "But did you have to knock me down?"

  "Sorry. I even knocked myself over that time." I reached to help him up. He burst into a sunny smile, melting my heart. Blushing, I inspected the collected ashes. From the looks of it, Bellum had crushed Valente's bones to dust. I covered them with the lid, shivering.

  "I hope Bellum's gone for good," I said.

  "Nothing's for good, with him," muttered Emmett.

  I set the urn in the driver's seat of the bus. "Valente's bones. This bus was his workplace and his haunt. Now it will be his columbarium."

  "What's a colum— columbar—" Emmett's eyelids drooped. "Whatever you said."

  "Really? It's like a crypt for urns." This worried me. Emmett usually had a larger vocabulary than I did.

  I went on talking. "I suppose Valente's in the Dead Sea by now. Do all ghosts go in the Dead Sea when they finally return to the spirit world?" I asked.

  "How in the name of the All would I know? I'm really, really hungry, Aether. I haven't eaten in over a hundred years." Emmett implored me with his eyes, clutching his stomach. "Let's get a sandwich, please?"

  "Oh, sure. Sorry." I eyed the double-wide through the bus window. Any food had to come from in there.

  First, I tried messaging Sam. Just in case he was here.

  —Sam! Where are you? We need help!

  My red-alert summons hung unanswered in the sluggish desert air. Sam must be at the Vic, because that was his home. And I was stuck in this All-forsaken junkyard. Left behind. Again.

  Swallowing a lump in my throat, I touched my hands to my temples. "I don't sense any portal in this bus. How did we get here?" I concentrated, hard. "Of course, it's difficult for me to sense anything, since Bellum took my ring away."

  "Who is Bellum?" Emmett shook himself, sleepily. Then, in a more alert voice, he said, "I should tell you that mortality makes me lose it. Right now, I can still remember the spirit world, but over time, it's going to get worse. And I might be kind of . . . spacey."

  "You just need to eat." I was now very worried. "Stay hidden. I'll get some food."

  I crept across the sand lot, straining my ears for any sounds of Bruce or Shirleen. Stillness and silence. The junk piles I passed stood stately and ordered, no sign of the recent junk avalanche or the sea created by Bellum, or anything out of the ordinary. Weird. The truck Sam had left outside the fence was gone.

  I climbed the double-wide stairs and entered the back door.

  Inside, darkness. The double-wide smelled of dirty carpet and hot metal. Even with the swamp cooler running, it felt like the inside of a toaster oven. I made a beeline to the fridge and rummaged.

  What would Emmett like to eat? A lot had changed since 1900, when people ate things like watercress and tongue, if the books I'd read were true. I grabbed food randomly, then a few bottles of water. Bagging it all, I headed for the door—then froze.

  Bruce huddled not ten feet away, in the corner. He stared straight ahead, no expression on his face, and so still. Was he even breathing? I moved closer. In the partial light, the E on his forehead resembled a B. I waved my hand before his face.

  Bruce stirred and coughed until his face turned red. My red-white-and-blue joke didn't seem so funny anymore. Bruce looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was askew, and his shirt was stained with sweat and food. My eyes traveled down and—he wasn't wearing pants! Just his underwear. I averted my eyes. When I glanced back, he was drooling on his shirt.

  Torn between helping him and tending to Emmett's hundred-year-old hunger, I gave him a bottle of water. He just held it. Loathe to get close, I dribbled a stream of water into his mouth. He lapped like a dog, letting it run all over him. Then he grunted and curled up on the floor, making a weird hungh, hungh noise.

  This was pretty freaky. First, I'd make sure Emmett was okay. Then, I'd try to heal Bruce. I hoped I could still do it without the ring.

  I ran out the back door.

  "I have no idea what is wrong with him," said Emmett when I told him. "Maybe you should call an apothecary."

  "Right . . . an apothecary." I ushered Emmett to a shady spot behind the teardrop trailer. I spread a striped Mexican blanket on the sand. "I think Bruce had a B on his forehead." I started making sandwiches, bologna and cheese.

  Emmett's lazy s
mile became a scowl. "Is he doing that again? He changed his name to that fatuous Latin so he could cover my Es with his Bs."

  "So, it is Bellum," I said. "He had a different name before?"

  I put my hand in Bruce's head. Now, Bellum's initial was on Bruce's forehead.

  Emmett frowned and scratched at the part in his hair. "That doesn't make sense. Bellum starts with a B, not a T. What foodstuffs have you there? We could have tea right now," he babbled.

  I put two sandwiches before him. "I'm afraid this is nothing fancy."

  "Fine with me!" said Emmett, inhaling the sandwiches so quickly that I had the impression he'd absorbed them into his head, as he used to do. "Please, another!"

  He gulped sandwiches as soon as I could make them—so many that I handed him apples to slow him down. He chomped through those, then reached a package of stale cookies. He tasted one, flashed a huge smile, and munched the rest in a flash.

  "What sweets are these?" he asked, chocolate on his face. He waved the empty package at me.

  "Chocolate chip cookies. They probably weren't invented yet in 1900. But they're a dessert. You're not supposed to eat ten at once." I took the package away and handed him another sandwich.

  "I'll take a hundred at once!" shouted Emmett. "One for each year I've been missing out!"

  "Shh, don't yell. Bruce is in there," I said. "Now that you're fed, I'm going to try to help him."

  "And locate some more of those chocolate chip cookies!" said Emmett.

  I wiped Emmett's face clean, sighed—then clapped my hands over my mouth. But Emmett didn't react to the sigh, just continued smiling serenely.

  "Once I make sure Bruce is okay, you and I are leaving for town," I said.

  "What's town?" asked Emmett, with big, innocent eyes.

  "Sweet All!" I said. When did I start spirit-world swearing? I squeezed Emmett's shoulders, more with sorrow then affection. Emmett leaned against me with contentment, smiling up at the blue sky.