Tarnished Journey: Historical Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 4)

by Ann Gimpel

  “Yes!” Yara screeched and directed her next words at the earth, an earth that had clearly taken her promises to heart. “Thank you. I won’t forget you. Ever.”

  The other eleven demons surged forward. Any semblance of a staged attack fled. Fury poured from them in waves, and they battered Yara’s ward with renewed energy, screeching their rage. If they had even the slightest concern about the fragile, cracked surface swallowing them too, it didn’t show.

  Yara gathered power from everyone and heaved it into the center of the batch of demons. One yelped. Another’s scales took on a disgusting liquid aspect as its hide began to smoke.

  Light flared brilliant white, and Cadr, Vreis, and Stewart joined them. She wanted to wrap her arms around Stewart and never let go, but that would have to wait.

  “Good to see you, lassie.” Stewart grinned rakishly at her.

  She couldn’t help herself. No matter how dire their straits were, Stewart—her heart, her life—was here. She grinned back. “Focus on the earth,” she told everyone. “It’s our friend.”

  The three Druids wove their magic in with Yara’s perimeter. It strengthened until it became visible. Bands of power arced around them, and the demons’ fire and black-edged spells bounced off.

  “Our ward will hold the demons for now, but not for long,” Stewart yelled. “Ye must needs say a wee bit more about the earth.”

  Chapter 21

  Stewart sliced through Yara’s warding, sealing it fast behind himself, Cadr, and Vreis. Their shared magic made it possible. A shining nimbus—something he’d always associated with the Celts—surrounded Yara. She looked beautiful and formidable with her hands extended and power sheeting from her. He searched for words to tell her how relieved he was to find her unharmed, but nothing sounded right.

  Of course, she’d be unharmed. She was a goddess. To suggest he’d been concerned might come across as demeaning, as if he had no faith in her. He settled for, “Good to see you, lassie.”

  She gifted him with a quick smile and blew out a tight breath. “Focus on the earth. It’s our friend.”

  Stewart wasn’t certain precisely what she meant, but their comrade’s death had incensed the remaining demons. He marshaled magic from Cadr and Vreis and threaded Druid power into Yara’s warding until the demons’ renewed attack bounced off it, falling to the cracked earth. Wherever it hit, the mottled surface heaved and bubbled.

  “Nicely done, everyone. We saw that demon vanish,” Vreis said.

  “Aye, and we were damned careful where we stepped crossing the mesa after that,” Cadr added.

  “Our ward will hold the demons for now, but not for long,” Stewart yelled. “Ye must needs say a wee bit more about the earth.”

  Yara closed her teeth over her lower lip and switched to telepathy. “That demon was no accident. I promised the earth we’d help repair its faults.” Her nostrils flared. “It’s a chance, and it might not work, but if all of us drill beneath where we stand, healing as we go, I believe the other demons will meet the same fate as the one who fell through into goddess knows where. He didn’t return, so my guess is either he’s stuck, or he decided we were too much trouble to bother himself with.”

  “Aye, they’re a selfish lot. If there isna clear gain for them, they willna cooperate.” Stewart couldn’t stop staring at Yara. She’d changed from the woman who’d crept from shadows to intercept their truck on the Netherlands’ border. He hoped she’d still want him, but she was goddess through and through, and might well have moved beyond whatever he could offer her.

  “Some of us should continue fighting,” Tairin said. “So the demons don’t get suspicious until it’s too late.”

  “Good point.” Stewart squeezed Tairin’s shoulder.

  “The four of us will take care of keeping the demons occupied,” Elliott said, joining hands with Tairin, Ilona, and Jamal to strengthen their magic via physical contact.

  Stewart eyed the demons. Three had rushed the ward, and were pummeling it with their fists. One swung a cudgel. Where it connected, the ward shuddered, but held. Had they listened in just now? Their minds were closed to him, but their actions suggested they didn’t see any reason to placate the fractured dirt they stood on.

  Jamal moved in front of Stewart, along with Tairin, Elliott, Cadr, Vreis, and Ilona. Power poured from them, slicing through the ward as if it weren’t there. Made sense. Bright magic recognized its own. The remaining shifters and Rom joined the front line, adding their magic to the mix.

  Jamal shot a glance at Stewart. “Hurry, man. We can’t keep this up forever.” Sweat streaked his face, and his dark hair was matted to his head.

  Yara stood next to Stewart, her spine arrow-straight. “Ready?”

  Instead of answering, Stewart augured power into the earth beneath his feet. Cautious at first, he spread more magic when the earth didn’t rebuff him. Perhaps it recognized his earth-linked power, understood that earth provided the substrate for his magic. The damage he found made his heart hurt, and he extended arcs of healing energy to bind the damaged places that cried out to him.

  He hoped to hell the others were holding the demons at bay since there wasn’t much he could do to help. A quick scan through his link with Cadr and Vreis reassured him. At least they hadn’t lost any more men, but neither had the demons slowed their onslaught one whit.

  “We need to hurry,” he told Yara.

  “I know.”

  She worked alongside him, crooning to the ravaged earth. Where their power touched, the magma-infested crust cooled immediately. He sent the molten rock back toward the center of this borderworld where it belonged. Without its constant presence, layers could form. Layers that would support the dirt and rocks and make them whole again.

  “The land needs water. How can we do that?” Yara asked.

  He clasped her hand, the hand she’d slipped into his. “We’ll look. If we find a subterranean channel, I’ll open a way through for it.”

  Yara had good instincts. Water would complete the healing process—so long as Satan left things alone. Not a safe bet, but at least the earth would get a respite from evil. Perhaps their help would encourage it to fight back next time. He sent his consciousness outward, weaving through tunnels of rock and underground rivers where lava flowed, all the while alert for the cooling scent that meant water.

  “Nothing’s here.” Yara sounded desolate. “The demons are gaining. I feel it. We have to help the others.”

  “Deeper,” he urged. “We can do this.”

  “I don’t want any more deaths on my conscience,” she argued.

  He tightened his hold on her hand. “’Tis a gamble, but if we appease the earth with water, it may well suck the remaining demons into its maw. Doona underestimate its power.”

  “All right.” Her words held a terse quality. She didn’t agree, but she trusted his assessment.

  “Ye willna be sorry.” He wanted to thank her for believing in him, but that would have to wait.

  Stewart thrust their combined power downward. All worlds had held life at one time or another. Life meant water. Even demons couldn’t exist without it, which argued for at least one source that reached the surface. Likely one heavily guarded by demons to ensure none of the cooling liquid could leach into the surrounding earth to restore it.

  “Look! Look at this! I might have found something.” Her mind voice vibrated with elation, and she directed their shared magic to a slender channel with a sluggish flow of brackish water.

  Stewart didn’t hesitate. He blew through the channel until it widened. Water, pure, sweet water, chugged through the path he’d just cleared. Working fast, he created multiple channels branching from the main one to spread the water across a broad area.

  The earth sang to him, its song merging with the roar of the newly freed water. He sang back, and Yara joined her high, sweet voice with theirs. They urged the water to seek its old pattern and drive the magma lower, where it belonged. The clean, fresh scent of orchards and
growing things exploded until it muted the stench that pervaded Hell.

  “Take the demons,” Stewart suggested to the earth. “Draw them deep into the heat of your center and barricade them in with water. ’Twill be fewer to ruin you next time.”

  “Yes!” Yara added compulsion to his suggestion. “Punish them for what they did to you.”

  Because his consciousness was linked to the earth beneath him, he felt it gape open, shuddering as it sucked the demons under, tumbling them into an earthbound prison.

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you so much,” Yara cried.

  “Ye made us whole, goddess.” The earth’s reply rumbled through water rushing to fill its ancient byways.

  Stewart added his thanks to Yara’s. This was far from a permanent fix, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying so. He didn’t harbor illusions about Satan packing up his demons and leaving for a place where he could establish dominion over elements that weren’t quite so unruly. Regardless of the ultimate outcome, they’d done good work here today.

  “’Tis time, lass,” he said and withdrew his focus from the earth.

  Shifters and Rom cheered, slapping each other on the back in a celebration that had obviously begun while he was joined with the earth’s spirits.

  Vreis grabbed Stewart’s arm. “They’re gone!” he crowed. “The demons are gone. ’Tis a bloody miracle. The ground opened and swallowed them whole.”

  “Aye, and when the chasm sealed itself, the temperature dropped a good ten degrees,” Cadr added, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

  “Eh.” Stewart snorted. “’Tis still Hell. Just a wee bit more comfortable.”

  Yara was still joined with the earth, her gaze unfocused, her hands extended downward, including the one still sheathed in his. Her essence seeped back into her, rich with the smell of loam and harvests. She smiled broadly and inclined her head.

  “I did a touch more damage control so long as I was there.” She drew her brows together. “The earth spirits wanted me to stay, but they understood why I couldn’t.”

  Tairin grabbed her arm. “I don’t know how you did it, but the demons are gone.”

  Yara nodded, still smiling. “I know. I felt the earth tumble them downward. They’re not dead. If the earth fails to hold them captive, they’ll bounce out elsewhere in this accursed place, but it’s a sure bet they won’t bother us again.”

  “Satan will have a dickens of a time luring any of his other minions to take us on once they hear what happened to their kinsmen,” Elliott said in a satisfied tone, his blue eyes crinkling at their corners.

  Stewart glanced around. They needed to get back to Earth. Tarrying here was a bad idea. Satan would be so furious, the old bastard just might show up himself.

  Yara tilted her head to one side as if she were listening.

  “What is it, lass?” he asked, but she held up a hand.

  A wall of magic rolled toward them as intimidating as the black cloud that had descended atop Ben Nevis, but this was Celtic power. Stewart recognized it and batted back a desire to run the other way. When the Celts banded together with their power joined like that, he’d generally taken cover. They always wanted something, and it was rarely to congratulate him on a job well done.

  Best case, it always meant weeks to months of backbreaking effort—for him.

  Yara swung her gaze around the group. “Rhiannon’s coming. She’ll see us home.”

  Stewart considered pointing out that far more than a single Celt was headed their way, but Yara sounded so relieved, he kept his knowledge to himself. The worst was over. For now. Soon he could gather her close and kiss her until they were both breathless with need.

  She quirked a brow his way. “Great imagery. Keep it coming,” she murmured, having clearly been inside his mind.

  He winked broadly. “I will.”

  The still, dead air of Hell didn’t feel quite so dead when a shower of white light coalesced into a shimmery portal. Rhiannon stepped through, clothed in a pure white robe sashed in crimson. The owls were back on both shoulders. Others came behind her. Arawn, Gwydion, Bran, Arianrhod, Manandan, Llyr, Fionn, and a few others as well.

  Stewart’s heart swelled in his chest. Despite everything, damn if he hadn’t missed the Celts. They might have been harsh masters, but they’d usually treated fairly with him. He bowed low. When he straightened he said, “Well met, my lords—and ladies.”

  “We’re not your lords, not anymore,” Rhiannon said. “We have forged a path for you to escape from this world. We shall seal it behind us to ensure nothing sneaks through that doesna belong.”

  The portal glowed warmly. The Celts stood aside, motioning everyone through. Apparently, they planned to go last to ensure their exit point was well and truly impenetrable to Hell’s minions.

  Stewart detoured and slung one of the piles of bones that had been a shifter over one shoulder. Vreis and Cadr did the same for the other two corpses. Leaving them in Hell wasn’t right. Once they returned, Meara could take charge of the shifters’ remains. He’d see to proper rites for the Romani.

  The Celt’s corridor felt soothing after the spine-jarring reality of Hell. He’d been under attack the entire time, and it had taken a toll. Unlike his transit from Ben Nevis, this route had air. Not much, but anything was an improvement over nothing. The Celts’ solid presence closed behind him.

  Yara walked by his side and slipped her hand into the one not stabilizing the corpse thrown across his shoulder. “No matter what happens next, I’m grateful to be out of that place. I feel horrible about the three who died, though. Demons lured them out from behind the ward. If I’d been more vigilant…”

  “Och, lassie. Casualties are part of war. There’s never been a commander who dinna lose a man.”

  She grimaced. “I’m sure those leaders come around to living with their failures, but I still feel like I could have done better.”

  “Ye came up with the idea to ask the earth for help. ’Twas little shy of brilliant, and in the end ’twas what saved us.”

  She smiled shyly. “Thanks. Do you suppose today will at least slow the Reich down?”

  He considered it, not wanting to utter false words on the altar of making her feel better. “I believe so. We made a hell of a dent in the vampire population. Not that there aren’t others, but Hitler likely seemed a sure thing to them afore now. If aligning themselves with him means they have to fight for their lives, they may well come to a different conclusion about helping him.”

  She smiled wryly. “Too bad none of this will touch Dutch officials and their bigoted decision-making.”

  “I never had to deal with them.” Stewart took a measured breath. “But ye may recall, Druids were run out of the British Isles for many of the same reasons. Everyone has to have someone to look down on, someone to persecute. Like it or no, ’tis the way of the world.”

  The dimly lit passageway brightened before falling away. Ben Nevis’s summit came into view. It was still snowing, but the storm felt clean somehow, not driven by malevolent energy. The shifters and Romani they’d left to battle vampires raced to them amid a flurry of hugs, kisses, and good wishes, jubilant despite the rotten weather.

  Aron pelted toward Ilona and Jamal. “You sent me away on purpose,” he screamed at his sister.

  She opened her arms, and her brother hurtled into them, face contorting with emotion. “I did,” she agreed. “And I’d do it again to keep you safe.”

  Jamal slung an arm around them both. “Your sister loves you. It’s not a bad thing.”

  Stewart peered through driving snow. “No more vampires?”

  Michael clumped to Stewart’s side. “No more vampires. Not here, anyway. Open fires, old friend.”

  “Aye, open fires indeed. Nice work.”

  Michael shrugged. “After a while, vampires stopped coming. I have no idea if we killed all of them, or if an entire batch decided fighting us wasn’t worth it.”

  “Eh, likely the latter,” Stewart
replied, “but the outcome is the same. What happened to the Fae?”

  “They left once it was clear no more vampires were in the offing. Said to give you their best and that they’d see you again. Sooner rather than later was how they put it.”

  The Celts emerged from the passageway between worlds. It slammed shut with a boom, and the glittering portal scattered into motes of multihued light that were gobbled up by the storm.

  Rhiannon clapped her hands smartly, and her owls flew this way and that, hooting and herding everyone toward the cave behind the stone building.

  Meara caught up to him. “Thank you for bringing my shifters back from Hell, although I’d have understood if you had no choice but to leave them. Come along into the cave. I’ll take over the remains from there.”

  “Do ye want me to tell Vreis? He has the other body.”

  She shook her head. “I already did.” Meara shot forward and slithered around the boulder still partially blocking the entrance. Once she turned, Stewart handed the charred remains to her, and she laid what was left of the body gently next to the other corpse Vreis had carried inside.

  Stewart brushed charcoal bits off his clothing. He stank of death, but so did everyone else.

  “Inside, everyone. Now.” Rhiannon’s tone left no room for dissent.

  Stewart moved away from the doorway and pushed the boulder back into place with magic once the last of them was within. He summoned a different type of magic to kindle lights within clear, quartz rocks placed by Druids hundreds of years before. Air sprites lived within those rocks, and they glowed obligingly when called upon.

  Rhiannon circled around until she faced everyone. The other Celts formed a wall behind her. After a final series of hoots, the owls landed on her shoulders, beaks clacking shut in unison.

  “I would share a story with you,” she began. “’Tis a tale I hope will grow into myth that outlasts us all. One of my magical birds came to me years back. ’Twas a raven, and it foretold today’s battle. It also foretold the Celts egress from Earth, so I was loath to pay it much heed.