“But you fiends grew restless, destructive. You murdered my kind in order to seize the realm,” the elf said darkly. “Those of us who survived were forced to flee into the human world using our mirrors. The malefactors who led the revolt took the knowledge of how to create the portals and hoarded it, ensuring only they could create them. But that was still not enough for them. They cast a curse of forgetting on the other fiends to ensure they would not remember what had occurred. So no fiend could question their rule.”
Well . . . that did sound quite a bit like his kind, if Alastor was being honest. But his sister was shaking her head, a scream of denial and fury working its way up her throat. She released it in a roar.
“Do you not believe me?” the elf continued. “Then how else would I know that your first ancestor had no animal form, and that she blended her line with a mere pooka and destroyed all the other true shapeshifting fiends so that her children and heirs would have no rivals?”
Alastor felt as if he were balanced on the tip of a matchstick, poised to tumble into numbed shock. No one . . . no one outside of his family knew of this. The presence of a pooka in the few remaining malefactor bloodlines was his kind’s most closely guarded secret.
Pyra, of course, knew this as well. The others might have seen her silent, still form as the effect of her being stunned, but her mood was shifting, flowing through her like a raging river of lava. She was furious.
“You are an Ancient,” she growled. “And still, you will not fix the realm? You’ll let it be devoured and the creatures you created destroyed?”
Flora’s eyes narrowed as she took great relish in saying, “Yes. It is what you deserve. You were a mistake. You have always been a mistake.”
Something in those words stirred a surprising anger in the boy, but Alastor himself felt oddly calm. His realm was collapsing, his sister despised him, and an elf—an elf—had just upended his understanding of the order of things. But there was one thing Alastor never truly lost in the face of confusion and chaos: the upper hand. His ability to improvise, to shift plans at a dizzying speed, had always served him well.
And now it would save him.
“Sister,” he began, his thoughts swirling like sand through an hourglass. “You may take my power, however weakened”—he spat out the word—“it might be. As a sign of my willingness to work together, I will voluntarily sacrifice most of my power now, keeping only enough to stay alive. Even incomplete, the blood key can serve a different purpose.”
Al? Prosper’s voice was faint but growing. Alastor felt his thoughts scatter almost as quickly as he could piece them together.
“Go on,” Pyra said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“We only need a new realm, do we not?” Alastor said. “The blood key has more than enough magic to tear open a hole between our realm and the human one.”
“No!” Nell gasped.
Alastor! The boy struggled for control, trying to wrestle his body back from the fiend.
“The humans are weak, and their world is far vaster than our own,” Alastor said. “Could we not remake it? Fiends are meant to rule. It is our destiny to bend humanity and their shades to our will.”
Pyra’s smile was like the curve of the deadliest blade. “I had not considered that. How quickly the hideous blue sky would blacken at our command, staying that way forevermore.”
“The humans will be easily dealt with. They are so very susceptible to plague and fear. . . .”
It felt like old times, mocking the lowly worms of the realms this way with her. Alastor, finally, was able to drag the boy’s body back onto its feet. Perhaps they would be able to work something out, with her serving as his adviser. . . .
As Alastor watched his sister’s smirking form, he recognized it as a new destiny unfolding.
He had not suffered humiliation at the hands of the Reddings without reason. He had not lost centuries of his life to the darkness of the Inbetween for no purpose. All of it had been like a winding path of black spidersilk. The way forward glistened with potential.
Alastor would not merely have his revenge on the Reddings. He would force all humanity to pay their dues.
The elf woke up from her trance, shaking the last vestiges of the power from her body. “Did I tell my story?” Her eyes shifted to the boy, and Alastor despised her cloying look of concern. “Prosper . . . ? What happened?”
“Now, Prue!” the witchling shouted.
Alastor and his sister whirled toward the cluster of cowering humans just as the girl drew her arm back and hurled a black vial down to the ground.
“Silver of old, silver of fate—come together as a gate!” Nell shouted. She raised both arms, a flickering ball of green magic growing between her hands, and threw it down onto the mess of powder and glass.
The air filled with clogging smoke. Stones dislodged from the walls, and ceilings came smashing down in a torrent as the tower rocked. Pyra was thrown back several feet, landing hard enough to momentarily stun her.
The witchling and elf clambered onto Toad’s back, drawing Prudence Redding up behind them.
No, Alastor thought, fury weaving through him. They weren’t about to ruin his plans, not after he’d finally found a way forward with his sister—a way that would allow he himself to save the realm and win back the fear and respect of his kingdom.
“Stop him!” Pyra shouted. Above them, magic sizzled around the blood key. It burned with an intensity that would kill a living thing at first touch, surging through their veins and burning out their body.
To Alastor’s surprise, the mortal fools didn’t try to touch it or steal it away. No, they were only concerned with their escape.
“Prosper!” Nell called. “He has to open it—tell Alastor to open the mirror!”
The tendrils of molten silver merged on the ground, pooling into a glossy mirror. Clever, clever witchling. She’d known they might not have easy access to a mirror in different parts of Downstairs, and she’d found a way around it: using a spell to create one of her own.
But what she had not accounted for, it seemed, was Alastor’s response.
“No.”
No.
The thin illusion I’d been holding on to that there might be a different end to this story finally shattered. That single word was as much a statement as it was a promise; from this moment on, there would be no more working together, even just to survive.
Alastor had chosen his realm over mine. I knew, eventually, something like this would happen. I wasn’t disappointed. I wasn’t even surprised. But I had hoped . . .
What? I’d hoped that he’d wake up and decide to do the right thing? That we were friends?
The ogres thundered across the cell, jumping onto the walls to try to scale them. The other changelings sprouted new wings of their own, joining Toad’s and Ribbit’s massive forms as they soared around the blood key. The fiery knot of magic pulled at me, weakening my body more with each moment that passed. We needed to get out of here. Now.Toad flew the others higher and batted one of the ogres to the ground.
“Break their mirror, Clockworm!” Pyra shouted to the other ogre. “Shatter it!”
“Prosper!” Nell called down. “Tell him to hurry!”
Alastor wormed through me, threading in my veins like a trail of dancing fire.
He wasn’t going to let go.
With what strength I had, I tried to shove him down. If I could subdue him, twist him back into submission, I might—
Wait.
Realization surged through me. I could order him to do it. I knew the secret name his mother had given him at birth, the one that would let anyone—fiend, human, elf—bend him to their will.
Do it, Alastor growled, seeing my thoughts. Finish becoming what you were always destined to be: the inheritor of Honor’s legacy.
My blood beat out a hard, fast rhythm. That was power—that single word was power itself. It was the magic wand that could wave everything away, if I chose to use it. The trum
p card that I only needed to flip over to use.
Power.
A name. I just had to say a name, and I could order an eight-hundred-year-old demon to do whatever I wanted him to do, including nullify the contracts on Nell and me.
I’m doing this to save my world, I shot back. I’m doing what I have to—
For the right reasons? Alastor finished coldly.
Ice crystallized around my heart. Zachariah’s words echoed back to me. We do things we never thought possible when there appears to be a good enough reason for it.
I was— All along, the entire time we’d been Downstairs . . . I’d justified the things I’d done by reminding myself they were all adding up to the rescue of Prue. Even now, I’d be using the name so we could escape, to remove Alastor’s power from Pyra’s grasp for just long enough for Downstairs to disappear once and for all. The human realm would never have to see another fiend.
All I had to do was use that name. It was right there, on the tip of my tongue, burning like I’d stuck a cinnamon candy on it. One word. Three syllables.
Say it, Alastor seethed. Just say it, you filthy Maggot. You think yourself to be so good, so kind, that humans have all the scruples that fiends lack. . . . In the end, you are no better than Honor was.
That wasn’t true. I shook my head, and with a deep breath, I ripped through the hazy darkness of my own mind.
I slammed back into my own body, sliding into control as if I were tugging on a fresh set of clothes. Alastor had dug his claws into my brain, and as he receded, he tore at it, burrowing the pain in deep. His simmering resentment boiled the contents of my stomach and made bile burn up my throat.
I’m not Honor, I told him. I have never been like him, and never will be.
He merely possessed what you did not until this moment, Alastor said darkly. Power always comes at the expense of others, Prosperity Redding. That is the choice you make—the knowledge you live with.
I shook my head, trying to clear the echo of his words. I’m not like Honor.
It was only a matter of time.
Honor had killed an innocent girl. He had destroyed a whole family to fatten his pockets and spread his influence.
All to save his own. As you intend to do now. Go on, Maggot. Bend me to your will.
What was going too far, when we were talking about the end of the world? Couldn’t I do this one thing—this one small thing? He was a fiend. He lived to torment . . . so why did it matter if he was served some of his own medicine? It wouldn’t be any more or less than what he was planning to subject me to after he got his tiny claws on my shade—
My shade. The deal.
“Get my bow!” one of the ogres barked to another. “I’ll shoot them down.”
“There’s no time for that,” Pyra snapped. She closed her eyes, raising her arms over her head. Wisps of magic rose from the orb, wrapping around her feet, letting them rise off the ground. Flying without wings.
Which seemed really unfair, all things considered.
You have to do this, I told Alastor. Getting Prue back into the human world was one of the terms of our deal. If you don’t open the mirror portal, you’re breaking your own contract . . . which means my end of things is null and void.
I wasn’t sure about the meaning of all those business words, but I’d heard my mom and dad use them on conference calls and they sounded official.
Alastor let out a strangled noise.
“Hurry!” Zachariah shouted. “What are you waiting for? An official summons?”
“Help us now, or break the contract,” I told him quietly. Pyra swiveled toward us, but I kept pushing, kept digging. “You said you never break a contract. What happens when you do? Do you lose the magic created when we agreed to it?”
You will just use my true name to command me to break the contract.
Am I using it now? I said. I could, and if you do this of your own volition—if you uphold our deal—then I won’t.
You lie.
Somewhere above us, Toad screeched and dove toward an ogre, all claws out like knives.
My thoughts raced. The deal was that we get Prue back to the human world. If you don’t open that mirror now, you violate the terms of the agreement. You lose the magic that came with it. And you need it, right? To break free from me?
Alastor groaned.
“What are you saying to him?” Pyra demanded. “What has he promised you, human?”
“Prosper, hurry!” Nell called. She clung to Toad’s neck as he reared back, away from the slice of an ogre’s barbed ax blade. Prue kicked another guard in the face as he leaped toward them.
Shouts came from the stairwell below. Metal clacked against stone as the approaching soldiers ran up the endless stack of stairs. Closer and closer, until the floor vibrated with the force of their drive.
Alastor’s voice was oddly formal, almost stilted, as he said, I will uphold my terms. Approach the mirror and touch it.
My legs felt as heavy as lead, but I half crawled, half ran the short distance between the mirror and me. I slammed down onto my knees, pressing my whole hand to the still-hot glass.
“Alastor!” Pyra cried. “I expected betrayal from you, but even I’m surprised it took less than two minutes!”
A surge of magic rushed through my arm, flowing out through my fingers. Alastor was silent as the glass rippled and the portal opened.
Toad and the other changelings wasted no time. Before I could so much as shout up to them, they dove for the mirror. Flora and Prue both screamed at the steep angle of his descent. The ogre’s ax swung out again, nearly catching another ogre who dove for the changeling in the chest plate.
“Hand!” Nell cried, leaning to the left and stretching her arm toward me.
Her fingers locked around my wrist. The force and speed of Toad’s dive nearly ripped my arm out of its socket as I was dragged headfirst through the mirror.
Dark, cold air blasted at us from all sides as we corkscrewed through the blurred, dim passage around us. Before I could draw in enough breath to scream, we shot out of the other side of the portal.
Nell’s grip on me finally broke, and I rocketed by her, slamming into the edge of something mercifully cushioned. The others weren’t as lucky. They crashed into a baby-blue rug, limbs locked around each other until they looked like one of those many-legged Chimeras from Dad’s book of Greek mythology. The changelings shifted back to their usual sizes in a symphony of pops.
“Ouch! Flora—!”
“Toad, your leg is crushing me—!”
“What sort of room is this?”
Zachariah floated above them, spinning in circles around the familiar striped wallpaper, the bookshelves, the tall white dresser that used to have all the pictures and trinkets on it, the ones now scattered across the floor. The Heart2Heart posters.
The still-rippling full-length mirror in the corner of the room, just beside the door to our shared bathroom.
My blood turned to ice.
Alastor began to laugh.
“Wait . . .” Prue began, sounding dazed. “What are we doing in my room?”
“You . . .” I began, worry devouring all other thoughts. “You opened a mirror back into Redhood?”
I connected the open portal to this mirror because I thought you would enjoy a visit home. To see it one last time.
Nell clambered to her feet, breathing hard.
“Mom?” Prue called out, heading for the door. “Dad?”
I caught her shoulder, holding her in place. Then I pointed to the mirror. To the still-open portal, its quicksilver surface gleaming with malice.
Dozens of dark shapes appeared in its depths, marching forward through the curtain of vapor—the roar of their voices as they shrieked and crowed with excitement made my skin feel like it was trying to peel itself off my bones.
“Close it!” I shouted. “Alastor!”
Our deal stipulated that I help you rescue your sister and open a portal for her back to the mortal wor
ld, Alastor said, his voice like venom. I said nothing of closing the portal again.
I ran my hands through my hair, clutching fistfuls of it. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“He won’t do it,” I told the others. I could have punched myself in the face for all those wasted, stupid seconds I’d thought I’d finally managed to put one over on him.
One fiend became a dozen, and a dozen became a hundred. Ogres. Lycans. Ghouls. Green, silver, red, gray, purple. Scaled, furred, fanged, clawed. Magic illuminated the sneering glee on their faces.
Don’t do this, I begged him. Please!
Your desperation is exquisite on my tongue.
Nell dove for her bag, turning it over to shake out the remaining contents. Only two empty vials clattered down onto the carpet. The mirror began to rattle against the ground, the surface rippling at a boil as an ogre’s claws brushed it, testing.
“Someone do something!” Prue shouted, picking up one of her equestrian trophies and wielding it like a club.
“I can . . . Only the malefactor can shut it, but I can put it in another—I can put it in the Inbeween!” She rubbed her hands together briskly, as if to spark the magic. “Open to me, door of wonder—”
Even I recognized something was wrong when the usual glow of magic didn’t appear in her palms. Nell looked down at her fingers, then toward the sunlight streaming through the window, horrified. And I knew. I knew without a single word of explanation that Nell had finally run out of magic.
So now the fun begins, Alastor said gleefully. Abandon hope, Prosperity Redding, for it has abandoned you.
The ogre’s hand passed through the glass, its fingers dancing in a taunting wave.
“Run,” I gasped out, grabbing Prue’s arm and pulling her toward the bedroom door. “Run!”
But it was already too late. Behind us, monsters burst through the passage like a cloud of furious hornets, and there was nothing I could do but watch as my nightmare came home.
The Last Life of Prince Alastor Page 22
