by Ella Summers
We need to proceed with caution. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the trap to spring. Her inner cynic sounded a lot like Makani.
Naomi wanted to believe Firestorm. Her gut told her that she was telling the truth. But then again, as Makani had pointed out, Firestorm was a master manipulator. And she certainly seemed to be in perfect control of her emotions. Even her emotional outburst earlier could have been staged.
“The demon who cast the spell was Bael.” Naomi watched Firestorm carefully, trying to gauge her reactions.
Firestorm’s face remained blank, not betraying anything. And she was watching Makani like she was trying to gauge his reaction. It was no secret that Makani and Bael didn’t have the most amicable history. Anyone who’d spent much time in hell could tell you that.
Makani’s face wasn’t blank. He glared at Firestorm like he would not hesitate to kill her the moment she stepped out of line.
“I know the way to Bael’s fortress,” Firestorm told Naomi. Again, she didn’t bother appealing to Makani. She knew he wouldn’t listen to her.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you have many demon allies,” said Makani. “After all, you betrayed your own kind. Betraying everyone who lives on earth was the logical next step.”
“Bael is not my ally, but I did spend many centuries in the deeper circles of hell. As a prisoner.” She bit out the word. “The demon who held me prisoner—her name was Forsythia—had many enemies. She liked to keep me nailed to the wall of her formal lounge when she had guests over. I was her favorite wall decoration.” Firestorm’s face remained impassive, but her voice shook with anger. “I overheard many things on that wall as my blood slowly dripped out of me. Forsythia thought I was broken, not even capable of rational thought anymore. She was wrong.”
“You killed her,” Naomi realized.
“One late night, after her guests had left, she was so tired from overindulging on wine that she forgot I was on the wall. She left me there and went to bed. I pulled the daggers from my body and fell to the ground. Then I crawled across that ground, killed a guard, and drank his blood to replenish my energy.”
In addition to mage and fairy magic, Firestorm possessed vampiric powers too. The fairy magic she had from her bond with Darksire; she’d gained the vampire powers when one of her spells against a group of vampires had backfired.
“Then I found Forsythia snoring in a drunken slumber in her bed. I cut off her head and burned her remains.”
There was a note of victory in Firestorm’s voice. It was the voice of a survivor, the voice of someone who would never give up, no matter what anyone threw at her. And it reminded Naomi of Makani. He was exactly the same way.
“While I was Forsythia’s prisoner, Bael visited her,” Firestorm said. “He gave her instructions for returning the visit. I know the way into his stronghold.”
“You will tell us,” Makani declared.
Defiance flashed in her eyes. “Ever the prince, Makani.” She braided her fingers together. “You should bring me along.”
“So you can stab us in the back when the moment is right?” A searing smile twisted his lips. “I don’t think so.”
Her fingers drummed against her arms. “I see you’re going to be stubborn about this.”
“After everything that you’ve done, you didn’t honestly expect anything different, did you?”
“No, I really didn’t. Trust takes time.”
“There isn’t enough time left on this earth for me to trust you.”
Firestorm met his eyes, their gazes locked for a few moments. Finally, she said, “Bael is an adept spell caster. Demons can enter his fortress through a special door, but lesser demons and people must take another path. That way to his palace is truly unique. You must navigate through several circles of hell. It’s like threading a needle—or, in this case, threading a series of four needles in a row. A narrow path leads from the third circle to his fortress in the seventh circle.”
“Like a magic wormhole?” Naomi asked.
Firestorm shrugged. “If you wish to call it that.”
“Where in the third circle is the entry point to this magic wormhole?” Makani asked.
“The Weeping Willow Roundabout.”
Naomi knew the spot. The equivalent location on earth was up north by the shore, right at the Canadian border.
“I can get us there in a few minutes,” Naomi told Makani.
She’d been reading the Spirit Warrior journals, going through the maps that detailed the spirit magic rivers. The fast-track magic highways ran through the spirit realm, connecting everything together. It was how the demons and the warriors they’d endowed with magic could move across the spirit realm so fast, while everyone else was restricted to the speed of their own two feet. It gave the demons and their armies an enormous advantage, an advantage that Spirit Warriors shared.
“Let’s go,” Makani said.
Emma, Troy, and Bruce had watched the preceding conversation with curiosity; Naomi and Makani hadn’t told them what spell they were trying to undo, after all. But like true troopers, his commandos didn’t ask. They simply closed in around Firestorm’s cage as Naomi left the house with Makani. They’d positioned themselves so they could watch Firestorm from every angle.
After a brisk jog toward the ocean, Naomi brought herself and Makani into the third circle of hell. The silver shimmer of the nearby spirit magic stream was right in front of them. A soft melody hummed off the stream, a song that was always repeating, and yet each time it sang, the song was a little different. A different voice. A different accompanying instrument. It was constant and yet fluid, consistent and yet evolving.
“It is likely the entrance to Bael’s Needle is guarded,” Makani told Naomi as they entered the silver stream.
“There won’t be many guards. Only a Spirit Warrior, a demon, or a ghost or spirit can move between the circles of hell. The ghosts and spirits can find other ways into Bael’s fortress, there are no demons in the third circle, and I am the only Spirit Warrior currently on the job.”
His voice was soft, even gentle. “Perhaps you shouldn’t.”
Naomi looked away from the burning forests on either side of the stream, meeting his gold eyes. “Shouldn’t what?”
“Be on the job.”
Makani had always been protective of her, but he had never kept her out of a fight.
“This is because of the babies,” she said quietly.
“Your body is different.”
“I don’t look any different. I don’t feel much different either.”
His free hand stroked her cheek. “But everything is different now.”
“I can’t stop, Makani. I’m the only one who can move between the earth and the spirit realm.”
“Your father is also a Spirit Warrior.”
“My father?” She shook her head. “Right now, Dad can barely walk. He’s in no condition to fight demons and the creatures of hell. I can’t ask him to jump back into action. I won’t ask him to do it.”
She glanced down at her tummy. It was as flat as ever. There was no external sign that anyone was inside of her. Yet.
Makani wasn’t wrong. What they were doing was dangerous—for her, for him, for their babies. But it had to be done.
“Maybe if we had more time, Dad could help,” she said. “But he is still recovering, and we can’t afford to wait. The longer we wait, the stronger the demons grow, the more merged with our babies they become. We need to end this now.”
“I don’t know if I can protect you.” Makani’s forehead crinkled in frustration.
She shared his feelings. Their true enemies were inside of her, using their babies as a shield. They couldn’t fight them like they usually fought enemies. It made her feel so powerless.
“You just do your best to protect me, and I’ll do my best to protect you,” she said with a bright smile. “It will all work out.”
Makani’s hand brushed softly down her side. “Have I e
ver told you how alluring your optimistic resolve is?”
“Loads of times, of course.” Grinning, she batted his hand off her hip, where it had come to rest. “No time for fun now, honey. Our exit is coming up.” She took a firmer grip of his hand and they jumped out of the stream together.
They landed near the ocean, but it didn’t look like any ocean on earth. The water was purple—and it looked more like smoke or fog than water, a dark purple smoke sliding over rocks.
The beach was made of tiny sparkling silver sand grains. Each one looked like a fine piece of precious metal. Every so often, a sparkling gemstone rock stuck out of the sand, interrupting the smooth sandy sheet. One of those ‘rocks’ was a sapphire as large as her foot. There were also at least two rubies bigger than her head.
Past the beach grew a half ring of weeping willows. Their trunks and branches were made of silver. Tiny gemstone leaves jingled on the branches like sleigh bells.
A gust of wind whispered through the trees. The breeze shaved tiny silver particles off the branches, sprinkling them down on the beach, adding to the sandy mass. A few gemstone leaves blew off the trees and fell onto the beach. A hollow sound, like someone breaking open a ripe melon, echoed off the sky. Then the tiny fallen gemstone leaves grew a bit bigger. So that’s where the enormous sapphires and rubies had come from. If Naomi ever opened a jewelry store, she knew where to get her supplies.
“This way,” she said to Makani. “I can feel a fold in this realm’s magic.”
Makani’s sword was already in his hand.
They left the beach, entering the Weeping Willow Roundabout. The trees seemed to grow taller with every step that they took. Naomi tried not to think about what would happen if one of those gemstone leaves decided to fall onto her head and implant there.
A man, dressed like a warlord, jumped out of the trees. His eyes burned with fury when he saw Makani.
“Brant.”
“Valin’s brother?” she asked Makani.
His eyes hardened, smoldering with dark gold fire. “Yes.”
Valin came out of the trees, coming to stand beside his brother. Both brothers had the same hazel eyes, peppered with little brown spots. Both wore their golden hair past their shoulders. And both wore dark red armor the color of blood. It clung to their bodies like a second skin. There was something very, very wrong about that armor. Its magic was sinister, cruel. It seemed to have a life of its own—and a history as dark as its soul. It was born from demon magic.
In their days on earth, Valin and Brant had hunted down and killed Dragon Born mages. They hadn’t seen death as an opportunity for redemption. Instead, they’d plunged deeper into depravity, joining the demon Bael’s army, becoming his warlords.
“They are blocking the way to Bael’s fortress,” Naomi said to Makani.
Each brother wore a big sword and an even bigger sneer. They didn’t look like they would be moving any time soon.
“We need to get them away from the entrance to the magic wormhole,” she whispered.
Makani met their vicious glares. “I could just kill them.”
That would take time—and magic they couldn’t spare. Both warlords had been powered up by Bael. It would take more than mundane means to take them out. Naomi could use her magic. Or she could just use her brain.
“I have a better idea,” she said. “We need to get them to chase us.”
Makani’s brows arched with suspicion. “What are you planning?”
“Nothing good, I assure you,” she told him with a wicked grin.
Brant strode forward, murder in his eyes. “Makani. You killed my brother. I intend to return the favor.”
Oh, they were making this all too easy.
“I killed you too,” Makani reminded him.
Brant scowled. “I remember.”
“Last time, I killed you one by one. This time, I’ll kill you both together.” Makani flashed his teeth at the brothers. “I’ll break your magic as I break your bodies, absorbing your magic into my own.”
“You Dragon Born filth,” Valin growled.
Gold fire swirled in Makani’s eyes. “You are afraid. Good. Your magic tastes better when it’s laced with fear.”
“Abomination,” Brant spat. “We will tear you apart, you and your little fairy. We’ll rip off her wings and deep fry them in inferno oil. Bael is partial to deep-fried fairy wings.”
Makani looked too angry to speak. He was getting drawn into this. The brothers weren’t the only ones holding a grudge.
“You couldn’t catch me if you tried,” Naomi laughed at the warlords.
Then she grabbed Makani’s hand and started running. She didn’t look back, even as she heard the warlords run after them. They’d taken the bait. She’d known they would. Valin and Brant were the kind of sick people who got their thrills chasing prey. They couldn’t resist a fleeing target.
The brothers were fast. Even with all that armor on, they were gaining on her and Makani. Naomi pushed herself to run faster.
As she entered the beach, the soft ground collapsed under her feet, slowing her steps. But it slowed the warlords’ steps even more. That armor was finally working against them.
Naomi felt a twitch, an invisible, indescribable something tugging on her. She dashed to the right. Magic blasted over her shoulder, nearly singeing her hair. That was too close.
She chanced a glance behind her. The warlords unleashed more magic. Makani pulled her out of the way, but that maneuver cost them time. Valin and Brant were gaining on them.
“Get them to chase us,” Makani growled as they ran over the sinking sand. “Brilliant plan.”
“It will be brilliant in a moment.”
Just a few more feet.
Naomi picked up a peach-sized sapphire from the ground, and threw it at Valin. It hit him in the head. He glared at her, blood streaming down the side of his face.
She grabbed another gemstone, a walnut-sized diamond, and hurled it at Brant. It hit its mark, square in the forehead. He was bleeding now too.
The warlords didn’t slow down. They ran faster, their anger propelling them forward in a burst of speed.
Naomi and Makani came up on the edge of the ocean. It might have looked like steam, but it felt like water when it rushed over her foot. The tide was rising fast. It hadn’t been so high a few minutes ago.
Well, now they were about to see just how angry the warlords were.
Naomi grabbed Makani’s hand, squeezing it tightly. The warlords rushed forward, ready to tackle them. Naomi ducked to the side, bringing Makani down with her. He followed her lead, dropping to the ground beside her.
The warlords flew past them. Water sloshed as they hit the magic transport stream. A look of collective shock flashed on their faces—right before they were sucked into the silver transportation stream.
Naomi rose to her feet. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s continue on our way.”
They walked back into the grove, Makani’s grin growing wider with every step.
Naomi glanced sidelong at him. “So you liked my plan after all?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you would.”
He met her gaze, admiration shining in his eyes. “You are almost as clever as a dragon.”
“Try not to choke on your own ego, Your Majesty,” she replied with a smirk.
He snorted.
“Come on,” she said. “Valin and Brant will turn around at the next exit in the magic stream and come back around to enact their revenge. We don’t have much time.”
18
Demon Day Spa
Naomi and Makani threaded the magic needle from the third to the seventh circle of hell. At the end of the trail, they stepped through a red door to enter Bael’s home base. It was not at all what Naomi had expected. It wasn’t a castle, a military base, or any other kind of fortress.
More than anything, the place resembled a wellness spa. Warm-toned tiles covered the walls—all except for one. That one h
eld a very large painting nearly as large as the wall itself. The painting’s frame seemed to change color with the slowly-shifting overhead spotlights, turning from gold and purple, to bronze and green, to silver and blue, then back again. The painted strokes featured a beautiful unicorn. With a long and thin horn and a tuff of white hair curled under its chin like a beard, the unicorn was the kind you’d expect to find in old medieval paintings.
Naomi moved in for a closer look at the painting. “The unicorn is moving.”
Its hair flowed like it was caught in a gentle breeze. Its hooves pounded the ground, the clop-click-thumps a fast dance beat. Chimes echoed on the breeze. Naomi couldn’t take her eyes off the painting. She watched the repeating patterns of movement and sound over and over again.
Makani set his hands on her shoulders. “Look away, or you will be lost in it. The painting will suck you in, and you will become trapped inside it.”
Naomi noticed for the first time that there were other things in the painting, beyond the majestic unicorn. Figures were trapped behind cattle fences. They didn’t move. They were simply frozen in place, expressions of pure horror etched into their faces. Were these the people that the painting had already ensnared?
Naomi stepped back, fighting the desire to keep staring at the beautiful unicorn who was drawing her in. It was painful to look away. Like ripping off a bandage, she pivoted around quickly and turned her back on the unicorn. It sang out to her, trying to draw her back in.
Makani took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, tethering her here.
She glanced sidelong at him and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He was pointedly looking away from the painting.
Naomi looked across the room. There were no soldiers present. In fact, the room was devoid of people, besides the two of them. A swimming pool with three waterfalls shooting down from the wall filled out much of the open space. Dozens of lit candles dotted the wood deck around a hot tub, sweetening the air with the scents of vanilla and honey. Cream and red rose petals floated atop the water’s surface. Beside the hot tub sat a basket with a pair of folded towels and two packages of strawberries wrapped in red ribbons.
