“Then how are there so many of them? There has to be one. Find it!”
“Look at their feet,” Darika panted. “They’re backward-facing. These aren’t demons—they’re vetala. They live here.”
“Ve-what?” Sera asked.
“Vampires. Spirits stuck between this realm and the others.”
“Vampires? Are you freaking kidding me?” Sera balked at the thought—these things looked nothing remotely like the drop dead gorgeous vampires in movies. No Edward Cullens in sight. Couldn’t a girl catch a break?
“I wish I were,” Darika grunted as she swung through the thin wraith-like creatures that seemed to swarm from the very earth. “They’re more like what your generation calls zombies. The vetala haunt corpses, possessing them and wreaking havoc on the world of the living. This unsanctified burial ground must have been a haven. These might have been sleeping here for centuries, so something must have roused them.”
Sera fought an eye roll. She knew exactly what had awakened them—the demon that had cleverly lured them here and then skipped off to Xibalba. “How do we get rid of them? Doesn’t seem like anything we do is working.”
“If we cannot kill them,” Ilani said, “we must return them to their rest. Lady Darika, as the consort of Lord Shiva, you alone can do this.”
Fending off a handful of wraiths, Sera exchanged a desperate look with Kyle. He shrugged, but Ilani was the one to offer up the explanation. “Lord Shiva is the spiritual master of all animates, including the ganas—ghoulish spirits like these.” She waved a hand. “They are meant to cause confusion and chaos, but they serve him.”
“Can you summon him?” Kyle asked, slashing through three vetala as they leapt toward him.
Darika shook her head. “Yes, but it is not wise to summon him here. Ilani is right. It’s up to me.” She spread her eight palms wide and closed her eyes in meditation.
Suddenly, the frantic vetala stilled as if in response to only something they could hear. The abrupt silence in the chamber was unnerving, making a wave of gooseflesh erupt over Sera’s skin. The spirits seemed drawn to whatever Darika was doing, their wraith forms swaying as if under some strange, godly compulsion.
“She manipulates material energy and the ganas as Lord Shiva does,” Ilani whispered, making Sera jump. “So she can release the vetala from whatever has awoken them and compel them to return to their slumber.”
“Is it working?” Sera asked dubiously. She kept her swords in defensive positions, expecting the creatures to leap out of their trance at any moment.
“I believe sh—” The last part of Ilani’s sentence was swallowed by a shocked gurgle as a gaping red hole flared wide at her feet and hooked barbs dug into her calves, wrenching her halfway into the smoldering portal.
“Kyle!” Sera screamed, grabbing at Ilani, whose body had sunk to her thighs in the yawning pit below. Horrified, Sera wrapped her arms around the Yoddha’s waist, trying to keep her from descending farther. “Something’s got her.”
Kyle lurched to her side, skidding to the floor and using Mordas to hack into the barbed metal tips burrowing into Ilani’s legs. Whatever was pulling her down was strong, and the ugly weapon hooked into her flesh was barbaric. Sera recognized the metal whip—it was similar to the one Jude, the leader of the Preta, had used to pin Daevas in place so he could raze the deifyre from their wings. The last time she’d seen the Ifricaius had been when she and Kyle had fought for their lives against her uncle. Had one of the Demon Lords found it?
“Hurry,” she shouted to Kyle. Darika was still in her self-imposed trance, keeping the vetala in thrall. With a pained moan, Ilani flared gold fire around them, her eyes glazing as she held on to Sera. Her body slipped several more inches until the Preta weapon was no longer visible.
“I can’t get it,” Kyle panted. “Whatever has her is out of reach.”
“Help me haul her up, then,” Sera cried.
They pulled together, but whatever horrible force on the other end refused to relinquish a single inch.
“I’m . . . sorry,” Ilani moaned.
“No, no, you hold on,” Sera said. “We’ll get you out.”
“Too . . . late.” Spots of gold froth flecked Ilani’s lips even as her cheeks turned ashen. “Already . . . poison . . . Xibalba.”
Sera looked down in horror, and sure enough, sickly, inky tendrils curled up the Yoddha’s skin at her waist, creeping into her deifyre and transforming the glowing wings into dull cinders. Sera had never stopped to ponder what happened to deities once they were exposed to Xibalba, but now she was seeing it firsthand. The touch of the Dark Realms literally burned them to embers. Ilani bucked in her arms and, suddenly, the bonds ensnaring her slackened and released.
“Pull, Kyle,” Sera said urgently, scrambling backward.
But it was a cruel trick. Without warning, the portal cinched shut, severing the Yoddha’s dying body in half. Ilani’s back snapped and arched before she slumped against Sera, crumbling to white, flaky ash.
“Oh my God,” Sera wheezed, her breath ragged at the sight of flakes of the dead deity floating to her lap. Kyle’s arms went around her shoulders. “What the hell was that?”
“A message,” he said dully.
“Saying what?”
“The gauntlet has been thrown,” he said, gagging, his own brown face unnaturally pale. “They wanted us to have a taste of what’s coming. The vetala were a distraction, and Ilani was the target.”
Sera met his eyes and saw the grim truth there. He looked as sickened as she felt by the revelation. Of the three of them in that basement, Ilani had been the most vulnerable. The Dark Realms would not hurt Sera, Darika would have been harder to kill, and Kyle’s ties to Xibalba were still undetermined. Kyle was right. Ilani had been targeted.
With a start, Sera looked around and realized that the vetala had disappeared, and Darika was coming out of her trance. She blinked, staring at the two of them, her gaze dropping to the pile of white cinders in Sera’s lap. “What happened? Where’s Ilani?”
Sera pushed past the lump in her throat. “Gone.”
“How?” Darika asked.
“Some kind of portal opened up beneath her, and something dragged her in,” Kyle explained, his voice breaking on the last word.
Darika knelt at Sera’s feet, pressing two of her palms together and placing the backs of her thumbs to her own forehead. “I am sorry. Our only hope is that she will be delivered swiftly to Illysia for her sacrifice.”
“And if not?” Kyle asked in a dead voice, rocking back to his heels. “What if her soul is stuck down there?”
“It won’t be.”
“How do you know?”
Darika stroked his arm in a gentle, calming motion. “That is the way of karma. Ilani’s deeds in this lifetime will determine her next. She is not meant for Xibalba.”
The silence in the chamber was underscored by melancholy as Darika whispered her goodbyes for Ilani’s departed soul. Sera couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss deep within her heart. After the past few months, she was no stranger to death, but this felt different. Maybe Kyle was right—maybe it was some kind of message.
“Did you banish the vetala?” Kyle asked when Darika was finished, pulling Sera from her thoughts.
“Yes,” she replied, worry creasing her brow. “They yielded, though with great reluctance. They are bound to the gravestones that lie beneath the school, but it seems they were promised freedom by the ones who led us here.”
“Freedom?”
She nodded. “Before they returned to their tombs, they hinted at what was promised to them.” Darika sighed and stood, running one of her palms through her hair in an all-too-human gesture of irritation. “The spoils of a war to end all wars. A war that will destroy the barriers between the realms, where the mortal world will be a free-for-all feast.”
“But who woke them?” Sera whispered and rose to her feet, avoiding looking at the remains of the departed Yoddha. Though she knew
that what Darika had said was true, that Ilani would return to Illysia and be reborn in some other form, it made her heart hurt. “Was it Ra’al?”
“I don’t know.” Darika drew a frustrated breath. “We need to convene with the Trimurtas. Though the word of the vetala is circumspect, we cannot afford not to take what they have said into consideration.” She waved a hand. “Especially after what has happened to Ilani. Come, we must make haste.”
“Wait,” Kyle said. “We still haven’t found out how the demons are getting into the Mortal Realm.” He glanced at Sera. “Your dad once told me that some portals leave a residue, a trace of their path. If we can figure out what dimension of Xibalba that was, maybe we can figure out which one of the Demon Lords is behind this.”
“How?” Sera asked.
“When you were taken that first time to Xibalba by the churel demon, Micah showed me how to keep the portal open. I needed Micah’s strength then, but I can do it now on my own.”
Sera sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of Micah, the Sanrak who had helped them defeat Ra’al. She frowned, certain that Kyle had also told her that what he and Micah had done had been excruciatingly painful. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Kyle replied, though fear crept through his eyes. “I should be able to do it now.”
“Kyle—”
“It’ll be okay, Sera. This is what I do.” With a determined shake of his head, he knelt and pressed his hands to the spot where Ilani had been slashed in two. His lips formed an incantation that Sera didn’t understand, though she certainly felt its power. Whatever he was chanting resonated so deeply within her that she could feel the tug of Xibalba in her bones, clawing up her arm from her right palm. The sigil there burned at the invocation.
Feeling Darika’s eyes settle on her, Sera quelled the feeling, pressing her hand into her thigh. Even though Darika seemed to be on their side, for all Sera knew, she might have been one of the ones who was afraid to allow Sera into Illysia.
A faint red glow appeared beneath Kyle’s fingers, growing brighter as he retraced the Azura markings. He grunted and slammed his fist into the center. A hot red spark burst around his hand and the portal that had taken Ilani winked back into existence.
Kyle looked up at Sera and propped his arms on either side of the hazy gateway. His face looked haggard, but his expression remained determined.
“Here goes nothing,” he said.
“Wait! You don’t know what’s in there,” Sera said. “Or if it’s the same one.”
“It is, trust me. And we won’t know who it’s loyal to unless I look.” He paused after a deep breath. “I’ll take one peek and then come right back, I promise.”
Darika cleared her throat and shook her head. “And what if whatever killed Ilani is still there? We can’t risk losing you, too.”
Sera was surprised at the impassioned note in her voice, though she wholeheartedly agreed with the goddess. She placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “She’s right.”
“We won’t have another chance like this,” he argued. “Either I go after the demon now, we capture it, and we learn which level of Xibalba we’re dealing with, or we keep flying blind.” His gaze swung between the two goddesses. “You both know who I am and where I come from. Xibalba won’t hurt me.”
Sera exchanged a glance with Darika, but the other goddess was nodding despite the fretful look on her face. “What he’s saying makes sense,” Darika said.
Sera’s lips thinned. “And what if the same thing happens to you as Ilani, and the portal closes?”
“It won’t.”
“How do you know?”
He shrugged with a forced grin. “Trust me, if Ra’al wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t do it by portal splice. If I know anything about my father, it’s that he’d want me to suffer right in front of him, probably for the rest of eternity.”
“I guess you have a point.”
Darika stooped beside Kyle to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “If you’re going to do it, be quick. Ten seconds at the most—anything more and the risk of discovery will be too great. The Demon Lord of whatever level you wind up in will be aware of your presence in seconds. Be careful.”
“I will.”
Sera blinked at Darika’s concern, and Kyle looked as surprised as she felt. Sera didn’t know which was worse: facing unknown demons or having to choose between two goddesses, one of whom was notorious for death and brimstone. She stifled a crazed giggle. Maybe she should tell Kyle that he’d be better off being tortured by Ra’al for eternity.
“You heard what Darika told you,” she said instead. “Ten seconds. And try not to do anything stupid like die.”
He exhaled with a crooked grin. “Can’t say I don’t keep things interesting.”
The portal felt like day-old dirty fry oil. Slimy, tepid, and scummy. Kyle’s heart hammered in his chest, its tempo speeding up with each tight breath he drew. He had no idea what he’d see on the other side, but he’d meant what he said. This was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up . . . one he couldn’t pass up, despite the cold dread sitting heavy in his stomach. He wasn’t scared of what he’d find. He was scared of what Xibalba would do to him. What it would awaken.
Stop, you stupid coward.
He wasn’t human anymore. He was immortal. It would take a lot more to kill him than a Preta weapon, and he controlled the portals between this world and Xibalba. He looked up one last time. Sera’s expression was unreadable, but the pulse leaping at the base of her throat mirrored his. She was as terrified as he was.
Darika, too, seemed rattled. She hadn’t seemed remotely concerned about him before. Or maybe he’d been so caught up in Kira that he’d misread the signs. He blinked. Had there been signs?
Time and place, moron.
His gaze hitched to the portal that glowed like hot coal below him. He could feel its heat blanketing him. But it wasn’t scorching. It was warm and welcoming. Even now, his skin tingled with anticipation at the thought of what he was about to do . . . as if he were going home.
But Xibalba wasn’t his home. Nothing about it was home.
With a shuddering exhale, he sank face-first into the portal. The snatch of sulfurous air was immediate, sizzling into his lungs and choking him. He gasped and wheezed, blinking tears from his eyes as he took in the details of where he was. He didn’t have much time. Ten seconds was a blink of an eye.
One.
It was deserted. But Kyle knew more intimately than anyone how deceptive the landscape of Xibalba could be. He wasn’t in Ra’al’s seventh dimension—that much he knew. Thick red dirt the color of rust stretched as far as he could see. It wasn’t any kind of plains. The earth was damp and rolling like an undulating carpet. Alive. He flinched as a hand pushed up from the scarlet soil like some kind of macabre growth. It was covered in maggots and ridden with pus-crusted sores.
Two.
The hand was connected to an arm and a shoulder, both littered with oozing lesions as they pushed up from their morbid place of rest. Kyle blinked as a torso appeared, topped with a head and a familiar face. His face.
Three.
The mouth of his doppelganger leered, displaying rotted teeth and a lolling, blood-tinged tongue. A foul stench filled his nostrils and he gagged as the distended tongue veered toward him.
“It’s not real,” he told himself, closing his eyes and fighting the raw hallucination. But it felt real, which was just as dangerous. He drew a shallow breath into his lungs, but he couldn’t help the feeling that the thing was infecting him somehow. Poisoning him.
Four.
Without warning, his entire body started to convulse, and his doppleganger smirked.
“Why have you come here?” it asked.
“Who are you?” Kyle grunted.
Five.
“The better question is, who are you, Prince Kalias?” It cocked its head to one side, a hand rising to scratch at its cheek. A chunk of flesh came away in its fingers. “A false heir, so it would se
em.”
“That’s not my name, and I’m no one’s heir.”
“You are bound by blood.” The creature, some kind of demon Kyle was sure, licked at the putrid section of flesh it held in its grip. “And blood is blood.”
Six.
Kyle groaned in frustration, ignoring the phantom pain in his body as his burning eyes scanned the space. He wasn’t diseased, he wasn’t dying—even though every second felt like it. It was some kind of delusion meant to destabilize him. The demon wasn’t going to volunteer information. And he had only four seconds left to work that out on his own. Or demand it.
“Where am I?”
“Why should I tell you?” his doppelganger retorted, clambering from the red dirt until they were nose to nose. Kyle held his ground though the reek of it was near overpowering.
“You said I’m the heir.”
“No, I said you were the false heir.” The demon’s long bloody tongue snaked out to lick his cheek and Kyle recoiled from the wet swipe. His skin burned from the acid the creature’s saliva left behind. “You taste like deifyre.”
Six. No, seven.
He stumbled in his counting as the sting of the demon’s fetid touch eclipsed every thought in his brain—in the exact spot where the goddess had kissed him. The flesh of Kyle’s cheek flaked, eating through to his jaw and his teeth. He could only imagine what Ilani had felt, considering she was made entirely of deifyre. The pain would have been excruciating.
Eight.
Nearly paralyzed by the demon’s poison slashing through him, Kyle released one of his hands from his grip on the side of the portal in the Mortal Realm and grabbed the thing about the throat.
“Where am I?” he hissed, his fingers tightening and sinking into the sludge of the corpse’s neck. His anger only made the creature’s grin widen in glee.
“There’s some of your father left in you yet,” it crowed. “Kill me, Prince Kalias. Claim my life and your place.”
“That is not my name.”
“You can never escape who you are, boy. She will die for you. They will all die.”
Dark Goddess Page 12
