by Lizzy Ford
Tristan’s twin slung her down on hard cement and pulled off her hood. Her gaze went first to the strange crack emanating heat in the wall, behind which fire glowed. Shadow creatures shifted in the poorly lit basement.
He hauled her up and steadied her. Her eyes fell to the sickly figure of a woman before him. If not for the bright eyes, she never would’ve recognized Olivia. The once beautiful woman had shrunk and grown gaunt. Her skin was patchy and her eyes ringed with black. Her hair and teeth had become yellow.
“At last!” the black witch breathed. “I have you at last.” Her eyes glowed with madness. Emma couldn’t look away, horrified by the change in the woman. Olivia drew nearer, raised a hand, and slapped her hard.
“We won’t have much time,” Tristan’s twin said.
“Now you’re the jealous bitch,” Olivia said, oblivious. She gripped and ungripped the knife in her hand. “Jeffrey has made me more beautiful than you ever were. Adam won’t leave me this time.”
Confused, Emma looked from the hideous woman in front of her to Tristan’s twin, whom she called Jeffrey. There was ridicule in his gaze as he took in the black witch. He took Olivia’s hands and drew her toward him.
“You’re right, Olivia. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, and neither has Emma,” he purred. His gaze went to Emma and sharpened in warning.
Emma chewed the gag. They were both crazy! Olivia, who had no idea Jeffrey was destroying her, and Jeffrey, who was some sort of half-demon like Tristan. Unlike Tristan, Jeffrey had no ounce of human mercy in his hard gaze.
“We don’t have much time,” he said again. “And you want Adam here soon, don’t you?”
“My sweet Adam will be with me again soon,” Olivia said and faced Emma again. “And this time, no one will come between us.” She raised the knife toward Emma’s face and took a step forward.
“Of course not,” Jeffrey agreed. “You’ll have him for all eternity. But we must follow the spell.” He pushed Olivia’s hand away from Emma. “I’ll tie her down to the altar while you prepare yourself. You want to look perfect for when Adam returns.”
Olivia’s face turned from anger to joy at the mention of Adam. She handed him the knife and whirled without another word, heading up the stairs. Alone with the half-demon and the shadows, Emma took a step back.
Jeffrey faced her and took in her features with his sharp gaze. “I see why my brother claims you as his. You are his opposite.” By the flare of hate in his eyes, any connection to Tristan would only make her life worse.
He circled her, knife in hand, and she moved away from him until her back hit the wall.
“Pretty, strong.” He moved in front of her again. “Pure. The things I would do to you. You’re not as beautiful as Olivia when I found her. I could give you anything, beauty, wealth …” He paused. What felt like a cool breeze passed through her mind. “I’ll kill her for you. Even I wouldn’t target a child.”
She shook her head.
“She’ll go after your whole family once she’s done with you. I can help you stop her.” He maneuvered her until her back was to him and sliced her hands free and then her gag. “Tristan can go back to the attic where he hides. I’ll leave him alone and make sure your sister and mother are well cared for. You’re broke, Emma, and your sister has spent her savings on doctors for that brat.” He leaned close to her, whispering into her ear. “I’ll fix everything, Emma.”
Emma squeezed her eyes closed, terrified of moving. Fear for Sissy and Amber made her chest tight and her breathing difficult. He said all the right words, but the creature behind her would do to her what he’d done to Olivia. He’d destroy Tristan and her family while deluding her into believing the opposite.
“No,” she whispered.
“You’d rather I tie you down next to Adam’s corpse, drain your blood, then slaughter everyone you love? Because I will, Emma.” His voice was still soft. His words made her gasp.
“Tristan-- ” she started.
Jeffrey snatched her neck and dragged her across the basement. Light and dark spun as she struggled to stay on her feet. He thrust her downward and held her. Instinctively, her hands shot out to brace herself. One hit a cool cement slab and the other …
“Oh, god!” she cried, focusing on the decomposed body Jeffrey held her inches from. Her left hand had landed in what had been Adam’s thigh. She flung it free, near hyperventilating despite the scent of decomposition.
“This is what you choose?” Jeffrey demanded, pushing her closer. She strained to keep herself upright and from toppling into Adam. “Answer me!”
“I won’t do it!” she shouted. The air shimmered with his anger. Jeffrey hauled her up and shoved her down hard on the altar next to Adam. He tied her hands and arms spread-eagled.
“Before this is over, you’ll choose me,” Jeffrey snarled. “I’ll make sure of it!”
Her chest heaved in fear, and tears leaked from her eyes. As she heard him storm up the stairwell she closed her eyes, too aware of how close she was to Adam’s body.
Tristan!
Chapter Six
The shadows kept him trapped in unconsciousness until warmth flared through him. He jolted awake, blinking his mother’s fuzzy gray head into focus. Morning light filtered in through the curtains.
“I warned you, son,” his mother said.
Morning. Emma. Tristan bolted to his feet and faced his mother. She rose from her seat on her haunches and sat calmly on the couch, ignoring the emotions boiling within him. He could hear Emma’s voice in his head. She was hurt and terrified.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” he charged. “Nothing about keeping the secret of a brother?”
“I hoped you’d never meet him.”
“Mother, you can see the future. You must’ve known!”
“Believe it or not, I’m not omniscient,” she replied brusquely. “I saw there was a chance, but there’s a chance at winning the lotto, too, son.”
Furious, Tristan sat down across from her. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s no time for everything,” she said. “Your Emma needs help, soon.”
“Then tell me what I need to know to face your son.”
“Don’t call him that. He’s your father’s son, not mine. You already know the answer. You must use what you’ve suppressed all these years. You control but a fraction of your dark powers. The rest you’ve buried and must free.”
“You make it sound just that easy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if I can anymore.”
“Trust me, the darkness will call to you once you’re there. Your problem won’t be tapping into it. Your problem will be coming back from the edge once you do.” The worry in her voice drew his gaze. She suddenly looked haggard and tired. “I brought this upon you, Tristan. I am so very sorry, son. Your father was a demon handler, a breed of black warlock who could control demons. I was too young to know. You and your brother were twins. I saw evil in both of you, but I saw your path was not one of darkness.”
“You chose to keep me,” he said, both pitying and angry at the small woman. “Did you throw my brother to the wolves?”
“No,” she said firmly. “Jeffrey was taken from me by his father before your first birthday. I never saw him again, except when I would peek into your futures.”
Tristan! Emma’s frantic calls were becoming more desperate.
“We’ll detangle our sordid family history later. I need to find Emma,” he said and rose. “He said he wants to go home to Father, and he said he needed Emma for ...” He thought hard. “…life for a life. Human sacrifice?”
His mother was quiet for a moment, features pensive. “Life for a life implies he’s raising the dead. It’s a powerful spell that requires that someone close to the dead must replace him in the ground. It’s an ancient blood spell, though why he thinks such a thing will be enough to open the gateway to Hell, I don’t know.”
“He said the gateway is already open.”
TRISTAN!
“I have to go, Mother,” he said. He started for the door.
“Wait, son!” she called and followed him to the door. She fished a small object from her pocket and handed it to him. “I made this many years ago. It’s a demon handler’s tool. If you can force the demons into it, toss it into Hell. They can’t come back without being re-summoned.”
The small, transparent crystal ball was hollow. He accepted it and met his mother’s gaze again. Worry creased the lines around her eyes. Softening, Tristan kissed her on the forehead.
“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll be fine,” he said.
“I’ll light a candle for you, son.”
“Better light a few.”
Her gaze flared, a sign he welcomed. Tristan left. Her car was in the parking lot, running with the door open, waiting for him. He sighed. His mother knew more than she would ever say. He sat in the driver’s seat and closed his eyes, loosening the shadows again. For the first time since defeating it many years ago, his darkness was given its freedom. It filled him with warm and cool currents, calmed his mind. Already he could feel it test his will to control it.
He drove fast to Amber’s apartment and went straight to Sissy’s room. The walk-in closet was stacked with boxes along one wall. Tristan closed his eyes and let the darkness guide him to the object tainted with evil. He flung two boxes off one stack and dumped the contents of the third until he spotted the geode. Snatching it, he tore out of the apartment.
Take me to Emma, he ordered his shadows. The darkness complied and lit up the route he needed to follow against the backdrop of his eyelids. He opened his eyes, put the car into gear, and obeyed the instructions to the highway, around the Beltway, toward coastal Maryland. The route grew more familiar as he drove, and with some anger, he realized his twin had virtually lived in his neighborhood.
His mother would’ve had to have known Jeffrey was so close. He gripped the steering wheel hard and tried not to think about her secrets as he drove. His mind was on Emma, who’d gone quiet. She was alive; he could feel her.
He sped past Annapolis and Wooster, even angrier when the shadows directed him to a small town less than twenty highway minutes north of Wooster. He exited where the shadows indicated and drove through rural farmland before coming to the small town near the Chesapeake Bay. His fear grew as he neared. True to his mother’s prediction, he felt the evil and shadows of the fissure to Hell.
Half of him rejoiced at it, strained to be free. He’d never fully defeated the darkness within him. If he wanted to save Emma, he’d have to release it-- and trust he could return. The closer he got, the sweatier his palms became. Soon, he didn’t need the guidance of the shadows; they all but dragged him closer.
Tristan slowed to a stop as he drew near the large Victorian house, struggling with the shadows. If he was to save Emma, he’d have to become what he was. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He’d never met anyone who would drive him to this point, who appeased both sides of him. He loved her family, from sweet Sissy to the cheerful matriarch. They’d accepted him as even his own mother hadn’t.
He owed them-- all of them. If rescuing Emma killed him, his was a sacrifice worth making.
* * *
Olivia didn’t return until the single window in the basement showed it was morning. Emma jerked out of a light nap when the door above slammed open. She raised her head.
The black witch wore a wedding dress of pristine white that only made her sallow skin less natural looking. Emma rested her head back, bitterness in her thoughts. They’d both been engaged to Adam. As guilty as she felt for being there when Adam jumped, she didn’t understand why Olivia would want the traitorous man back.
She said nothing, afraid of drawing the crazy woman’s attention. Instead, she watched as Olivia took a wooden bowl to a small desk. The black witch set it down and pulled a lighter from a drawer before walking around the basement to light black and purple candles. She shied away from the fissure in the wall, and Emma looked at it again. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fiery crack or what it meant to lie in front of it in the basement of a black witch intent on revenge.
The sound of someone trotting down the hollow steps to the basement drew Olivia’s gaze, and she looked irritated.
“I’m not ready yet, Jeffrey,” she barked.
“We can’t take a break between the preparation incantation and the start of the ritual. You took too long getting ready.”
“I must be perfect for him. Besides, she’s not going anywhere,” Olivia said, tossing her hand toward Emma.
Emma met Jeffrey’s gaze as he circled the altar to stand near Olivia. Her breath caught. His long hair was tied back and he’d shaven. Aside from his cold, cold eyes, he looked identical to Tristan.
“You look beautiful, Olivia. There’s nothing you can do to tempt him more. He’ll want you more than he ever did.” A slow smile crossed his face. His gaze was on Emma. She twisted her head to stare at the wood beams lining the ceiling.
“You really think so?” the black witch asked.
“He won’t be able to leave your side.”
She turned and gave him a hug before hurrying past him to grab something from a box. Emma wanted to cry again. Leaning against the altar, Jeffrey crossed her vision.
“You still have a chance,” he said for her ears only. “To save yourself, Tristan, your family.”
“No.”
“In about an hour, I’ll ask you again.” He walked around the altar and stood before the fissure. Though his back was to her, she saw the heavy sigh that took the tension from his shoulders.
Tristan was nothing like this creature, but she wondered if he, too, would find some pleasure at the sight of Hell. Would it call to him as it did Jeffrey?
Sudden, sharp pain made her cry out and her body jerk. Olivia stood back with the knife that bore Emma’s blood, eyes glowing in pleasure. Emma’s body convulsed at the pain, and she tried to see the wound through teary eyes. Olivia had stabbed her in the chest on the right-hand side. Olivia raised the knife to plunge it again into her chest.
“Olivia, no!” Emma shouted.
“What’re you doing?” Jeffrey demanded, lunging to grab Olivia’s wrist. “This isn’t what we planned!”
“She must die for him to live!” Olivia argued. She struggled to pull free from his grip. Emma watched, terrified, uncertain if she wanted Olivia to kill her fast and end this or for Jeffrey to stop her in hopes Tristan found her. The burning pain in her chest made her clench her teeth.
“There’s a process,” Jeffrey snarled. He yanked the knife free and punched Olivia hard in the face. The black witch pitched backward and landed on the ground. Jeffrey set the knife down, anger in his eyes, and pulled up Emma’s shirt to see the wound. “Goddamn idiot! If you kill her, you’ll never have Adam back.”
Olivia rose, dazed. “But I thought-- ”
“Shut up and do what I tell you. Now we have to hurry. You’re lucky you didn’t hit a lung.”
Olivia moped like a child disappointed at not receiving a toy. The fire spread through Emma’s body as they hunched over the desk, preparing whatever spell they planned to use to kill her and raise Adam from the dead. Coldness crept into her, and both heat and cool made her sweat and shake.
Jeffrey drew near with the small wooden bowl Olivia had carried to the basement. He used the knife to channel the blood from Emma’s shoulder into the bowl. Olivia watched, crazed excitement on her gaunt features.
“You look like shit,” Emma said at last. They were going to kill her, or she’d bleed out soon. Either way, Tristan wasn’t coming, and she didn’t care anymore. “He’s using you, Olivia. Look in the mirror. He’s destroyed you.”
Jeffrey slapped Emma, and Olivia snickered. The black witch was too far gone for logic. Emma’s eyes water
ed. She watched them circle her, both chanting in words she couldn’t decipher, and stop at the other side of the altar, closer to Adam. Jeffrey set down the bowl and pricked Olivia’s arm with his knife. Emma watched as he collected the blood in the bowl.
“I’ll wed you now, so he can’t ever leave you again,” he said to her. “Do you wish to spend your eternity with Adam?”
“Yes,” Olivia said breathlessly.
“Do you swear to him your body, heart, and soul?”
“Yes, Jeffrey, yes!”
As they spoke, smoke emerged from the bowl. Shadows withdrew from their corners of the basement and floated toward them. The air of the basement grew thicker, charged, hotter. Emma watched them through her fevered gaze, not sure what was real. Jeffrey asked Olivia more questions. The shadows and smoke mingled, coalesced, and took on the shape of a man. The man floated through the air and lowered itself to Adam’s body.
“Do it, Olivia. Use your magic.” Jeffrey stepped aside. Olivia closed her eyes and faced each direction, speaking in a powerful voice that filled the basement. Emma struggled to understand the words, on the verge of passing out.
The decomposing body beside her stirred. Emma gave a strangled cry of surprise, adrenaline pulling her back into the world. Olivia stopped and turned.
“Adam!”
“Don’t stop, Olivia!” Jeffrey shouted.
“He’s alive!” Olivia exclaimed. Emma looked at the form beside her and cringed. It was moving, but it wasn’t Adam. The body hadn’t returned from its rotting stage, even if it struggled to sit up. The ground rumbled, and all eyes turned to the fissure in the wall as it grew by a foot.
“Finish it, Olivia,” Jeffrey said, gazing on the fissure with the same excitement Olivia’s gaze held for Adam.
Nothing good could come from a gateway to Hell. Emma forced herself to focus despite the fever addling her senses. Adam was sitting now, looking every bit the decomposed corpse she expected after two years in the ground. Olivia began chanting again, and more shadows gathered to enter Adam’s body. Though she didn’t understand the connection between Olivia’s magic and the fissure, they were somehow linked. She tried to think of how to distract Olivia.
