Salt

by Danielle Ellison

  I press my fingers to my temple. I can almost feel time slipping away. “Do you know where Carter is? Yesterday you called and he was coming to see you. I haven’t heard from him since then.”

  “He hasn’t come back at all or he hasn’t come back to you?” he asks. I don’t respond. Poncho debates for a moment, and then sits in a chair. I sit next to him. Poncho stares off into the distance, fingers grazing the spine of another book.

  I try again. “Carter said you knew something about Kriegen. He came here yesterday to talk to you about it. Do you know where he is now?”

  Poncho’s eyes drift back toward me. “Yes, he came here. I found some information.”

  “About Kriegen.”

  Poncho smiles. “I did well. He really wanted to know.”

  “Yes, I’m excited. We both are. I’m sure you worked hard—”

  “He’s been looking for his mother for years. I’m glad I found it.”

  I shake my head. His mother? “No, no. He said the information was about the demon, Kriegen.”

  Poncho looks confused. “His mother.”

  “Where is he, Poncho?”

  “He said he wanted to find his mother,” he says, standing up. This is getting me nowhere. I stand, but Poncho’s already walking away toward the cat. I walk too, but toward the door. I need to find Carter. Poncho’s words have me worried. Something is wrong. I can feel it.

  I look back over my shoulder and something catches my eye. Poncho’s pant leg is caught in his shoe, exposing his sock. A sock with a red stripe. I do a double-take to make sure, and it’s definitely there. Poncho looks toward me, and when our eyes meet, the color is a familiar shade of green.

  I don’t walk. I run to find Carter.

  The Partner Final is in twenty minutes, but I don’t go that way. I go in the opposite direction, to the supply closet. If I’m going find a demon without magic, I’m going to need a whole lot more than the salt in my vial. Carter said Poncho was giving him information about Kriegen. Poncho said it was about his mother. That red-striped sock said a whole bunch of other things that I don’t even know how to explain. All of them say trouble. I need to find Carter.

  Kriegen is the key. I find Kriegen, I find Carter. And, thanks to Emmaline’s little tryst with a demon, I think I know how to catch one even better now. With dessert, better known as me.

  This is certifiable, but I push salt-crusted iron daggers in my socks anyway. And salt pellets in my pockets. A nice pistol in my waistband. A salted, iron army knife in my bra strap. You can never be too prepared. I grab a bow and arrow off the shelf and sling them around my shoulder. I’m halfway down the hall when Ric shows up and grabs my arm.

  “What are you doing?”

  I shake my head and try to pull away, but his grip on my arm is tight.

  “I have to get him back.”

  “Get who?”

  “Carter. He’s in trouble. I need to help him.”

  Ric shakes his head. “Penelope, you have to be at the test.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t test without him, let alone pass, and he’s not here. He wouldn’t miss this.”

  “But—”

  “I have to find him, Ric. I love him,” I say. I realize I’ve never told Ric that before—how much I love Carter. He lets go of my arm and stares at me. I’m wasting time, trying to explain all this to him. I just need to go.

  “I can go with you,” Ric says, stepping in front of me.

  “No. You have a test to take with Maple,” I say, shaking my head. Ric starts to protest, but I will not let him miss this. One of us has to succeed. “Now get out of my way before this bow makes good friends with your colon.”

  I move past him. I’ve already wasted more time and I can’t afford to do that. I start to run when his voice echoes down the hall to me. “Where are you going, at least?”

  “To hell!”

  I stand in the alley where all this started and hold my breath. Part of me keeps hoping that Carter will step out of the shadows like before, but I know that’s not what’s happening.

  My blood drips to the ground. I wrap the piece of bandage over my arm and tie it tighter. The blood keeps seeping through. I probably should’ve thought through cutting myself a little more—but there were demons a mile back, and I had to figure out a way to make them follow me.

  It’s been like ten minutes. If this doesn’t work, plan B is a lot more dangerous. Carter probably wouldn’t even approve, which says something. Not that he’d like this one either. I put on my jacket to hold the bandage tighter, even though it’s hot and humid out here and it’s barely 10:00 a.m.

  I smell them before I see them—demons. Four of them.

  “Well, lookie here,” one of them hisses. They’re all in human bodies, and this one is some punked-out teenage kid with blue hair and a nose ring. I make a mental note that the spiral nose ring can be used to my advantage if needed. I wonder if the demon would feel that. “It’s a little witch.”

  I smile and grip the bow around my shoulder. “I’ve been called worse.”

  A girl, some poor Non who looks like she could’ve been a model at some point, hisses at me on its approach. “You sure are a pretty thing,” it says.

  “I’ve been told.”

  The third companion, in the form of an Asian boy with a polo and brown loafers—probably the last thing he expected leaving the house was to be possessed or he would’ve worn better shoes—sniffs the air. “And you smell good. Powerful.”

  “I’ve heard that one before, too,” I snap, crossing my arms. The girl hisses at me again, but I don’t respond. “I’m here to negotiate.”

  “Now, I’ve never heard that one before,” the fourth one says with a smile, stepping into the only empty space around me. It’s a really, really tall basketball player type. The glare in its eyes also warns me that it could probably rip me in half. Good job picking them, Penelope.

  “I’m looking for Kriegen. We have a mutual interest we need to talk about,” I say. All four of them laugh at me, and worry creeps into my chest.

  “Kriegen doesn’t talk,” punk kid demon says with a smile.

  “Yeah, Kriegen is more of the ‘rip your heart out and eat it’ kind of leader,” the tall one says.

  I laugh, which sounds more like a squeak when it comes out. How can I spin this? Spin it, brain. Think.

  “I’d like to rip her heart out and eat it,” the girl says, gesturing to me.

  “She does smell really, really delicious,” the brown loafers boy says.

  That’s it.

  “Which is exactly why you should take me to Kriegen. I believe your leader is looking for someone who smells ‘really, really delicious.’ Right? I think that’s part of this witch hunt.” All four of the demons raise their eyebrows at me, like they’re debating.

  “You know I’m right. All the hours you’ve put in, what would it be like to get the prize? Just take me in. What’s the worst that can happen?” I ask. The demons look at each other. “Go ahead, talk it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The demons huddle together and I hear pieces of their conversation. Words here and there, but they’re all talking at once. I’m not sure where all this bravery has come from. All I know is that I need to save Carter, and these nimrods are the only way I can get anywhere near Kriegen.

  Nothing can happen to Carter.

  The tall demon walks toward me and I strain my neck to look up at it. “Fine,” it says. It leans into my ear. “But if Kriegen doesn’t want you then we’re taking you piece by piece.”

  I nod, the image of me being cut up into bite-sized pieces clear in my head, and swallow. “Glad that’s clear.”

  The demons laugh as they take hold of me and yank me off the ground—arms, legs, one for each demon—and there’s a whistle and a popping in my head that makes me scream. Everything gets fuzzy around me before it fades away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hell is not what I expected.

  It’s no
t flames and fire and pitchforks, it’s white—except for the fact that there’s blood splattered all over everything. The ground, the walls, the demons, the dead. Some of it’s dried and black, some shades of brown. Some is fresh, crimson, streaked, and dripping. The wound from my arm is adding to the decor. Besides the noise of the demon chatter, there’s the occasionally sharp sound of screaming, then silence, made worse because I’m waiting for the screams to start up again.

  My demon companions pull me off the ground and my knee gives from the harsh landing. I wobble and the she-devil kicks me. It better be glad I came here willingly. As we walk, I try to see as much as I can, but it’s more like a hospital. There are long hallways and door after door. Everything looks the same, white with the splatters of blood; a stale smell that seeps from the walls as if they painted them with sulfur.

  I imagined hell would be more like a carnival—demonic fun and games, food, freaky clowns who kill with squirt flowers—not so still. We continue down a hallway of endless doors. Screams squeeze through the cracks of the closed ones and the open ones feature silent souls. I’ve never seen a soul before, but from my quick glance, it looks a lot like a regular body, only paler. And dead.

  One of the doors opens for me and they shove me into a metal chair.

  “Tie her down,” brown loafers boy says.

  “Really?” I say. “I volunteered for this, remember?”

  It leans into my face. “We allowed you to come, and you are our guest.”

  “This is how you treat your guests?” I ask as punk kid ties the rope.

  “No, we treat them much worse,” it says. Everyone laughs again.

  I take a breath and try to center myself, to stay focused. I’m quiet as I watch them. All four of them scurry off in different directions, but their attention stays on me. Tall demon is the only one who disappears from sight, up a set of stairs in the corner of the room, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be back with Kriegen. I just need to play along right now.

  When Kriegen gets here, then I’ll negotiate.

  I tap my fingers along the arm of the chair, since they’re the only thing besides my feet that can move. “So, this is hell? It’s not really what I thought. I imagined more crazy torture and eating of flesh, and less rooms with doors that lock. I don’t even have that at home.”

  The girl snarls at me. “It’s not Buffy.”

  “You guys get Buffy down here? That’s some great reception.”

  The punk kid hisses something at the girl. It hisses back. It sounds like nothing to me down here, just noise. Which is a little weird. Maybe my reception isn’t so great down here.

  “This isn’t hell,” brown loafers says. The other two hiss at him but he ignores them. “This is De’Intero—the space between earth and hell.”

  “Janksow,” the girl snaps. “Shut up now.”

  He shrugs. “What? We’re going to kill her anyway.” Brown loafers circles the outskirts of the room, its eyes on me. “This is where we bring the humans we like to play with. Sometimes we steal them from earth. Other times we yank their measly souls from hell and give them some entertainment.”

  My skin crawls. I don’t really need much imagination to figure out what they do. The blood and the sound is enough.

  There’s a loud bang, the sound of heavy doors slamming shut, and then the tall one reappears. Its eyes are on me as it walks down the stairs, and as soon as it hits the landing, the door opens again. This time it’s the sound of heels clacking on the floor—and I don’t see Kriegen until it starts on the steps.

  And it’s in human form.

  Its black hair is all I see first. Lots of long, curly black hair. Its skin is pale, paler than most; its lips are very red and its eyes are deep, dark recesses lost under heavy lashes. Then it smiles, and if I hadn’t been tied to this chair I would’ve run away. Even in its human body I can see the evil, piercing evil. Shameless.

  “Sorry for the delay. I wanted to find my best body for you, kitten,” it says. It moves toward me, heels clacking, and I see it nails—long and red, sharp enough to stab. I may need to rethink some of my earlier planning. “It’s not every day someone volunteers to come below.”

  I shrug. “I was a little bored.”

  It laughs, and the others laugh, too. They all stop at the same time. Creepy. Kriegen steps towards me, runs its fingernails over my skin. “No need to be coy, kitten. I know why you’re here.”

  I raise an eyebrow, waiting for it to continue. I’m not saying anything yet. I need to know what it thinks she knows. Kriegen leans into me, inches from my face, and for the first time since its appearance, I can see the skin around its eyes turning translucent. Its stolen body is already dying.

  “I remember you from the woods,” it says. “You didn’t stay around to talk that day.”

  It was there? Which one was it? “I was in a hurry.”

  It scoffs, amused. “What’s your name, kitten?”

  “Penelope,” I say.

  Kriegen smiles and repeats it. My name sounds like poison coming off its lips. I kind of don’t want it back now. It stares sidelong at me. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m looking for something.”

  Kriegen rolls its eyes. “I don’t know where the yellow brick road is and I’m not feeling particularly chatty.” It turns its back on me and snaps its fingers. “Drain her.”

  The demons all chuckle as they circle in. They pull at my ropes, leading me across the room to a round wheel that’s been stained with the blood of other victims. I kick my legs, but the four of them overpower me and force me against the circle. They laugh and my feet are forced in these holders; my arms strapped above and there are chain locks and Kriegen is back at the stairs.

  “They can’t drain me!” I yell.

  “Don’t worry, kitten, they’re good at it. You won’t feel pain for very long,” it says without turning around. The girl secures the last lock around my wrist and I’m stuck. I have no other choice, but I shouldn’t do it. This is a dangerous card to play. It better work.

  “I don’t have an essence.”

  At my words, the four demons that were just figuring out how best to drain me—and the most important, Kriegen—all freeze. It turns around, its feet between stairs, and looks back. “I thought I smelled something.” It sniffs and smiles. “A demon halfling.”

  The room is silent for a few minutes too long. It’s still. The other demons all back away from me as Kriegen swats its hand in the air. It moves slowly back toward me, and the closer it gets the more my gut tells me this feels like a mistake. It’s in my face again, exploring my eyes. And I’m stuck against this wheel of death, completely at its mercy.

  It steps back and inhales the air. “Do you know why you smell so good?”

  “Cherry vanilla body wash?”

  It snickers. “A witch has a certain odor, a pure spark of the freshest rainfall and the cleanest breeze in the summer all wrapped up—but at its core, at its purest form. Like sugar cane before it’s been diluted. It’s delicious. It’s what draws us in, makes us want you, an endorphin, if you will.” It sniffs the air, moving closer to my face. For a second, I think it’s going to lick me. I hope not, because there are some things that are just not okay.

  “But you, kitten, you are the opposite of that. You don’t smell like a spark or rain or a breeze, you smell like power. Pure power, empty and open. You smell like the void, but with whipped cream on top. You are decadent.”

  “Thank you.” I smile.

  It laughs and wags its finger at me. “I like you.”

  I don’t respond and it walks around me in circles. Think, Penelope, think. I always get myself into these situations, but I have to get out. What can I do? How can I maneuver my way out? My brain races through the CEASE Squad Handbook. None of the usual rules will work since I’m tied down. I need magic. Magic I don’t have.

  I’m screwed.

  “You aren’t a usual halfling. No essence, you say? Then despite your decadent smel
l, you’re pretty useless on your own,” Kriegen says. It walks around me still and I feel like maybe it’s just trying to make me dizzy. “For you to have power, then you have to absorb it.

  “I’ve smelled you before. In the woods, right?” Kriegen moves around the room, all her demon lackeys watching her, mesmerized.

  “The black demon.”

  “You didn’t even try to save that witch, but when you escaped my demons I knew I’d underestimated you.” It wags its eyebrow at me. “You saw the whole thing, so it should make sense to you.”

  “What should?”

  “You saw what my dagger did to the witchling? How it released her power? You absorbed it. When magic is free it has to go into the nearest void,” it says. Then it wasn’t Carter that day. It was the dead witch. “The void was made to be filled; the essence was made to be released. That’s why witches pull from the elements, while demons create from the void.”

  The void helps them create. As in see something and make it happen. That’s how my magic works. “Why didn’t you just take her magic for yourself?” I ask.

  Kriegen chuckles, pushes my hair behind my ear. Great, now I’m her doll. “I don’t need her essence. I’m a transformed demon. I have limitless magic.”

  “You used to be a witch.”

  “Indeed,” it says. It steps back, its shoulders high, and looks at its human nails. “I was a very good one too, but it was all so boring. So I denounced my essence, killed some poor unsuspecting witches, escaped my overbearing husband, and transitioned. It was a fast transition, only a few months until I was fully changed—but here I am. I’m one of the lucky ones. Only the strong survive that change, you know.”

  I need to get it back on track because it obviously has my answers. “You said there were a few ways for me to get power.”

  It sighs, like it’s bored. “They’re all the same basically. You’re the overflow,” it says. Kriegen moves around the room and snaps its fingers. Punk kid brings it a tall stool and places it right in front of me. It sits, crosses its legs. It has on Jimmy Choos. A demon with fashion sense. That’s not disturbing.