by J. Kenner
And around my neck, the Oris Clef seemed to sing, trying to draw me in, to entice me, to pull me toward the dark.
I thought about what it could do for me. The power I could wield.
No. Not power. Good. The good I could do. The control I could hoist upon the demons, just as I had made them bow down to me during our escape. It had felt right, that power. I could do that.
I could.
And because the third key didn't work, there really was no other way.
Or, rather, the only remaining way still made me quiver with fear, especially since the portal was still widening, and I could peer down. Especially when I could see the writhing shadows of the hordes and feel the rising heat of the hellfire.
Especially having felt the power of what I would be giving up.
I swallowed, calling on my courage. I could do this—I could lead, and so I lifted my hand high, then raised the dagger that was still in my hand. My palm was already bloody, but in the vision, I'd sliced my hand right before grasping the Oris Clef, and now was not the moment to veer from procedure.
Beneath me, I could hear Rose and Deacon battling fiercely as demons climbed up the cables beneath them.
I drew in my breath, then issued a command, just as I had on the street. "Stop!" I cried, but this time there was no booming undertone, and the demons did not even hesitate.
I understood why—the Oris Clef had given me a taste of power. But now, for more, I had to fully embrace my throne.
Rose's scream pierced my ear, and I looked down, saw that the sharp talon of a demon's claw had ripped into her thigh. It was bleeding badly, the wound exposed all the way down to the bone, and my sister's face was pale, her breathing shallow, though she was still fighting, still holding her own.
I clutched the dagger tighter. I had to do this. One moment. One change, and I could save Rose.
I brought the dagger toward me—then stopped.
My blood was smeared on the blade, and I saw that the blood had raised an inscription. For my daughter. May you find the courage to do what must be done.
My heart stuttered in my chest, and I felt tears prick my eyes. Margaret had believed it would be her own daughter, Alice, who stood on this precipice, but the words seemed meant only for me.
I understood now the real truth—why I'd been unable to locate the dagger in the book. Not because it was in another dimension, but because I'd been searching for the key. And the dagger was not a key; it couldn't close the gate. It couldn't prevent the Apocalypse.
Instead, it was a gift. A mother's gift to the daughter she believed would save the world.
Oh God.
Beneath me, the portal gained speed, rising faster and faster. I stood there, torn and terrified. The time to make a decision was now, and I was paralyzed.
That, however, didn't last for long, as I was thrown into motion when the bridge began to buckle.
The screams of the humans on the bridge reached my ears, along with the cry of my sister. "The water. Lily, look at the water!"
I looked, and as it bubbled and hissed—as the bridge shook with tremors—something large and gray was rising to the surface.
A violent jolt shook my tower, and I fell to my stomach, grasping one of the cables as I tried to ride out the waves. Beneath me, I watched with horror as the bridge split down the middle, the concrete breaking, the steel cables snapping. Cars and people tumbled into the river, their screams drowned out by the screech of ripping metal and the roar of shattering concrete.
Rose, too, went down, and it was my turn to scream as she fell, then even louder when I saw what caught her—a hideous beast emerging from the bubbling, steaming river that was slowly evaporating, dissipated by the hellish heat generated by a massive demon that could only be Kokbiel.
That is right, little bitch. I am Kokbiel. I am the destruction and the light. I am your origin and your destiny. I am the one who will rip the head off this foolish child if you do not give me what I want.
The Oris Clef, my child.
Give it to me, and I will let you rule at my side, your sister a princess, your male a prince.
Give it to me, and fulfill your destiny as my heir, for my blood—my essence—burns in your veins. Of this, you already know.
Give it to me, he said. And together we can transform the world.
22
I clutched the Oris Clef tight. No way, no way in hell, was I giving it to a demon like Kokbiel.
But I had to save Rose. I had to do something, and I had to do it fast, or else I’d lose not only Rose but the whole damn world.
I looked down to gauge the location of the portal, and realized that it was no longer beneath me. The quake that had shaken the tower had also lowered it—and shoved it down so that it was now at an angle to the riverbed, whereas before it had been perpendicular. Instead of the portal being a straight drop below me, it was not only above me but also about twenty feet away.
Which meant that unless I could sprout wings and fly, I wasn't doing a single damn thing. Not the Oris Clef, not my own sacrifice, not anything.
Closing the gate meant being at the gate, and I couldn't get there.
Kokbiel, rising up to stretch out wings beneath me, though . . .
Well, I could see that he wasn't going to have similar problems. More than that, I knew what was going to happen, and I braced myself for another earthquake—the final one, which would shake him free of the dimension from which he was emerging.
And once he was out, he would rise up, straight to me.
Straight for the Oris Clef I wore around my neck.
Now, girl. The child's time is running out.
He had Rose tight around the chest, and her face was pale as she gasped, trying to draw breath. But she didn't scream. She didn't cry. She just looked up at me with pleading, defiant eyes, and mouthed the word, "No."
Screw this.
I knew what I had to do, and I scanned the area beneath me for Deacon. He was on a bobbing piece of concrete, the cable he'd been clinging to apparently having snapped. He balanced on it like a life raft as he cut down demon after demon trying to capsize him and thrust him into the boiling water.
"Deacon," I shouted. "Fly."
He looked up at me, confused, as if he couldn't have heard what he thought he had. As if he knew there was no way I would ask him to return to his demon state, because to even ask would be to betray everything between us.
I steeled myself, hating what I had to do, but knowing I had no choice. "Dammit, Deacon, you said you would change if I asked. Well, I'm asking now. I know what I have to do. But I need you to fly me."
"Lily, I—"
"Please." I could feel the tears clogging my throat. "Deacon, trust me. I need you to trust me."
He hesitated, then bowed his head. And when he looked up again, I saw fire in his eyes, along with self-loathing and a desperate control.
I also saw his wings, spreading out, strong and powerful. He rose, a majestic beast clinging to a frayed thread of control, and rushed straight toward me.
"Where?" he growled.
“Take me," I said, hoping my gamble would pay off. Hoping that the demon inside him wouldn't burst out and control the man. It was a horrible risk I was taking. He could rip me apart and toss my limbs into the boiling water. He could take the Oris Clef from me.
He could do any damn thing he wanted because once he had grabbed me under the arms and lifted me, I would be dangling below him, helpless.
"Hurry," I shouted.
Below, Kokbiel was rising out of the water, Rose still clutched in a tentacle, but apparently not his main concern. That, I was pleased to see, was now me.
Another violent shudder of the earth, and Kokbiel burst free, flying up toward us with an impossible wingspan, my sister still tight in his grip.
“Take me!" I yelled again. "Dammit, Deacon, go!"
He did, grabbing me and shooting forward, Kokbiel hot on our heels.
Deacon put on a burst of speed, an
d—yes—we were over the portal, looking down at the maw and at the horsemen that were now barreling down the long, interdimensional corridor toward the now-open gate.
"Let go," I cried. "Drop me."
But he didn't, his rough refusal costing us precious seconds. "Lily, I can't."
Kokbiel reached us, grabbing Deacon's leg and jerking us back just far enough that we were no longer over the portal.
"Deacon, I have to. You have to trust me. Please, please, get us back."
But he couldn't. He was moving in the opposite direction. He was simply no match for Kokbiel, not as he was, still fighting his demon side.
I heard a roar and realized it came from him, followed by a blast of fire. He'd changed.
Deacon had taken on the full mantle of his demon, and with a burst of fire and speed, he broke free of Kokbiel.
He was a demon, though. Brother to those who were crossing. And I could only hope that there was still enough Deacon in him to do what had to be done.
He rose, away from the portal, and I grabbed my blade tighter, fearing I would have to thrust it upward, into his heart. Fearing I'd have to try—somehow—to nosedive through space and into the widening portal before it was too late.
But then, just when I feared the worst, he dropped me, and as his guttural howl meshed with Rose's sharp-pitched scream, I fell down, down, down into the waiting mouth of hell.
Into the choice I had to make right then.
I didn't know if I could save Deacon, or if I could once again save my sister. But I did know that I could save the world. And that, I thought, was something.
Around my neck the Oris Clef tightened, and then the chain snapped, the master key falling fast toward the boiling water, bound to this dimension while I plummeted toward hell.
Then, with my sister's cries echoing in my ears, I brought Alice's dagger to my breast, and plunged it in.
The blade slid through my flesh, and my blood poured into the portal. And as I fell toward the suffering that awaited me, I finally understood: That was what the dagger had been meant for all along. In a way, it really was the missing key. But it was useless without me.
23
“You did well, Lily. You made the sacrifice willingly, even knowing the price you would pay."
"There was no other choice to make."
"There was. But you had faith. Faith in your choice and in your courage. And faith, Lily, has its own rewards."
"I don't understand."
"You will. Good-bye, Lily Carlyle. We will meet again."
Nothing.
Not black. Not white. Not color or light.
Just . . . nothing.
No fiery pit. No burning flesh. No anything.
And then the softest hint of a breeze, the wind upon tender flesh. The scent of flowers. The cool crush of grass beneath my cheek.
Grass?
I wiggled my fingers experimentally. That certainly felt like grass. My toes followed suit and came up with the same conclusion. Running out of options, I gathered my courage, then opened my eyes fast. One quick peek.
And I liked what I saw.
I opened them a little wider. Grass, all right.
I shifted, rolling over so that my back was on the grass and the sky was above me. Blue, with fluffy white clouds.
I smiled.
Under the circumstances, this was rather unexpected.
Almost as unexpected as the man who stepped up, shirtless, his face blocking the sun and shadowing me, his smile warming me.
"Where am I?"
Deacon reached down to give me his hand. I took it, letting him pull me up and guide me into his arms. "You did it."
I swallowed. "I closed the gate?" I glanced around, confused, a jumble of images and emotions, of fear and fascination, pounding inside my mind. "Then it was real," I said with wonder. "What I heard? What Gabriel said?"
"I don't know what he said," Deacon said. "All I know is that you stopped the horde. You saved the world, Lily." He stroked my cheek. "And then you came back."
"Rose?"
His smile was soft and understanding. "You saved her, too." He nodded to a figure in the distance, hurrying toward us over the cool park grass. "The force of the gate slamming shut weakened Kokbiel. He's not dead, but he's gone for now."
I closed my eyes in a silent prayer. I'd gambled, but this time it had turned out right. Rose was safe. Deacon was back. And the world, for now, was safe.
"You made the right choice, Lily," Deacon said. "We both did."
"I can't believe it," I said, as my sister launched herself into my arms, her leg bandaged with Deacon's ripped-up shirt.
"You're alive," she said. "We did it and you're alive."
Tears were streaming down her face. I brushed them away, then realized she was doing the same to me.
"It's over," I whispered, hooking one arm around Rose's waist and reaching out my hand for Deacon. "I can't believe it's really over."
Deacon and Rose exchanged a glance.
"It's not over?"
"You closed the gate, Lily," Deacon said, "and the world's going to keep on turning. But there are still demons here. Still portals that can be opened. Still evil in the world."
"And somebody has to kill the demons," Rose said, her hand going automatically to her knife.
I nodded, understanding. Some of that evil still lived within me. I could feel it inside, struggling to get out. But I finally knew that I was strong. Strong enough to make the hard choices. The right choices.
If there was still evil in the world, I'd step up to the plate and fight it. I could be Über-girl-assassin-chick. I could control the demons—the ones in the world and the ones that lived inside me.
And with Deacon and Rose at my side, we could seriously kick Evil's butt. I was even looking forward to it.
Right then, though?
Right then, I was taking the night off.
Honestly, I think I deserved it.
A note from JK:
I hope you enjoyed The Redemption Chronicles! If you missed any of the books in trilogy, be sure to grab them now!
Born in Darkness
Lost in Shadows
Surrender to Dawn
Looking for your next fab J. Kenner series? Keep reading for the first chapter of Carpe Demon, another J. Kenner urban fantasy!
And please keep in touch! You can subscribe to my newsletter or text JKenner to 21000 so you’ll be among the first to know when fab things happen!
Check out all of my books at www.jkenner.com and be sure to join my Facebook fan group!
Carpe Demon: Chapter One
My name is Kate Connor and I used to be a Demon Hunter.
I’ve often thought that would be a great pickup line at parties, but with a teenager, a toddler, and a husband, I’m hardly burning up the party circuit. And, of course, the whole demon-hunting thing is one great big gargantuan secret. No one knows. Not my kids, not my husband, and certainly not folks at these imaginary parties where I’m regaling sumptuous hunks with tales from my demon-slaying, vampire-hunting, zombie-killing days.
Back in the day, I was pretty cool. Now I’m a glorified chauffeur for drill-team practice and Gymboree playdates. Less sex appeal, maybe, but I gotta admit I love it. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything. And after fourteen years of doing the mommy thing, my demon-hunting skills aren’t exactly sharp.
All of which explains why I didn’t immediately locate and terminate the demon wandering the pet-food aisle of the San Diablo WalMart. Instead, when I caught a whiff of that telltale stench, I naturally assumed it emanated exclusively from the bottom of a particularly cranky two-year-old. My two-year-old, to be exact.
“Mom! He did it again. What are you feeding him?” That from Alison, my particularly cranky fourteen-year-old. She, at least, didn’t stink.
“Entrails and goat turds,” I said absently. I sniffed the air again. Surely that was only Timmy I was smelling.
“Mo-om.” She managed to make the word
two syllables. “You don’t have to be gross.”
“Sorry.” I concentrated on my kids, pushing my suspicions firmly out of my mind. I was being silly. San Diablo had been demon-free for years. That’s why I lived here, after all.
Besides, the comings and goings of demons weren’t my problem anymore. Nowadays my problems leaned more toward the domestic rather than the demonic. Grocery shopping, budgeting, carpooling, mending, cleaning, cooking, parenting, and a thousand other “-ings.” All the basic stuff that completely holds a family together and is taken entirely for granted by every person on the planet who doesn’t happen to be a wife and stay-at-home mom. (And two points to you if you caught that little bit of vitriol. I’ll admit to having a few issues about the whole topic, but, dammit, I work hard. And believe me, I’m no stranger to hard work. It was never easy, say, cleaning out an entire nest of evil, bloodthirsty preternatural creatures with only a few wooden stakes, some holy water, and a can of Diet Coke. But I always managed. And it was a hell of a lot easier than getting a teenager, a husband, and a toddler up and moving in the morning. Now, that’s a challenge.)
While Timmy fussed and whined, I swung the shopping cart around, aiming for the back of the store and a diaper-changing station. It would have been a refined, fluid motion if Timmy hadn’t taken the opportunity to reach out with those chubby little hands. His fingers collided with a stack of Fancy Feast cans and everything started wobbling.
I let out one of those startled little “oh!” sounds, totally pointless and entirely ineffectual. There was a time when my reflexes were so sharp, so perfectly attuned, that I probably could have caught every one of those cans before they hit the ground. But that Kate wasn’t with me in Wal-Mart, and I watched, helpless, as the cans clattered to the ground.
Another fine mess …
Alison had jumped back as the cans fell, and she looked with dismay at the pile. As for the culprit, he was suddenly in a fabulous mood, clapping wildly and screaming “Big noise! Big noise!” while eyeing the remaining stacks greedily. I inched the cart farther away from the shelves.
