by Emma Slate
I glanced down. Bile rose in my throat as I saw the city lights below interspersed with bodies of water. I frowned.
“New York?” I called over the wind.
She tilted her chin in clear affirmation and then dipped to the side and began our descent.
I shot her a glare even though she couldn’t see me. Then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and when a dragon offered to take you to the top of the Empire State Building, you didn’t complain about the ride. Even if it was bumpy and cold.
She circled the top of the building, slowing her speed so she was finally able to hover near the top of the famous radio antenna that adorned the skyscraper. Something twinkled near me in the glow of the city lights. I had an inkling that it was the second pearl and I leaned over, gripping Auri’s back with my thighs. Reaching out, my fingertips grazed the warm black pearl, but just as I was about to wrap my hand around it, something dislodged me from Auri’s back.
Auri bellowed in outrage, but I couldn’t look to see what had hurt her. I was too busy fighting for a handhold, so I didn’t plummet to the ground.
I grasped onto one of the ladders that ascended the antenna. The wind had picked up, or maybe it was the flap of Auri’s wings as she beat ferociously to stay in the air. As I held onto the side of the building, I chanced a look behind me.
Auri was tumbling through the sky, snapping her sharp, jagged teeth at a red beast with horns and an oxen tail. It, too, had wings. But instead of the sleek, beautiful scales, it had the same webbing as Lucifer’s wings.
The red beast opened its mouth and unleashed a rain of hellfire. Auri diverted her body, but fire caught the end of her tail, singeing it.
She snarled in pain and rage, and then went on the offensive.
I turned my attention back to the matter at hand. There was nothing I could do to help Auri, and I knew I had to grab the pearl.
Raindrops began to fall and thunder roared in the clouds above as the ladder became slick with rain. I scurried up, losing my footing a time or two on the slippery rungs. I had to get to the top of the antenna to retrieve the pearl, but it was now pouring and my hair stuck to my neck and fell into my eyes, marring my vision.
With a shaky breath I pushed onward, knowing from the horrific sounds next to me that Auri was losing the battle with the Hell-demon and that time was running out.
When I got to the top of the antenna, I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the pearl. I lifted it from its spot, and just as I was fighting to get my bag open, a blast of demon fire hit the metal rod.
Sparks shot through the sky, and I was knocked back from the ladder. But instead of falling to the deck below, I was pushed over the side of the skyscraper. I plummeted and the ground was coming fast.
I looked up and saw both dragon and demon still engaged in a battle against the backdrop of thunderous storm clouds.
I wrestled with my bag. Hands still inside the satchel, I clasped the snow globe and the pearl, shoving them at each other.
By some miracle or a stroke of luck, the golden base took the pearl and as I continued to fall, I shook the orb.
And just as I was about to meet the cement below, I was sucked into the crystal dome and thrust into another world.
Chapter 22
Everything was tan.
My eyes were coated in grit as I tried to protect them from the sand storm, but it was useless. There was so much dust that it blurred my vision and I couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of my face. I ducked my head against my chest and raised a hand across my eyes and mouth.
At least I was no longer inhaling sand with every breath. But it did nothing to aid in my ability to see. I curled my hand around the snow globe, but cried out in pain as shards of broken crystal sliced my fingers.
My hand dripped with blood. I gritted my teeth as I waited for the dull throb to ease. Drops of blood hit the sand.
One.
Two.
Three.
The sandstorm calmed and the land began to settle. I took my hand away from my eyes and looked around, frowning. I sat down on a small dune to let my fingers heal. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes. It was superficial, and clearly, as an immortal, I healed fast.
A cry lodged in my throat when I saw the crystal dome. The base was still intact, but the magical transport that had once been was no more.
I sat for a long while, rays beating down on me. The sandstorm had blocked out the sun, but now it was back. My skin sizzled with heat, and I felt like I was slowly cooking, like a rotisserie chicken.
Where was the last pearl? Was it somewhere in this barren desert? Was I supposed to start digging, like a pirate searching for buried treasure? Or just walk and hope I found it?
I stood up, with the intention of—what? There were sand dunes as far as the horizon, and no doubt even farther than that. My throat was already parched; the relentless sun was leaching every drop of moisture from my body.
My hand was already healed, but that wouldn’t matter if I shriveled like a dehydrated fruit. I was immortal, but I could still be incapacitated by circumstances. What I wouldn’t give to be back in the ocean, breathing underwater, cool and safe.
Even when I closed my eyes, they still burned from the sand.
There was nothing here. The heat was scorching me through my clothes, and I had no choice but to get up and move. I somehow put one bare foot in front of the other. I gritted in pain with every step, watching my skin turn pink and then red.
And then the blisters came.
And so did the wish for it all to end.
Just as the sun finally set, I collapsed onto the sand, unable to go one step further.
Even though no rays of brutal light beat down on me, my body felt like it was already cooked.
My sun-fried brain finally pieced it together: I was in the Desert of the Forgotten. A place my parents refused to speak of because of the horrors they’d encountered here.
What other terrors lay in wait for me?
Before I could summon up the strength to worry about it, I passed out from exhaustion.
Dawn came and I awoke to the light of the morning sun. For a moment, I had forgotten the suffering of the day before because my body healed while I slept, but I soon realized my torment would start all over again.
I lost days, maybe weeks to this brand of torture.
My mind slipped away with each rising and setting of a new day’s sun.
I talked to myself to try and keep my sanity; sharp bursts of anger followed by wails of melancholia. At night, while my blistered skin knit itself back together, I thought of him. I hallucinated I was back there—in Hell. And I was with Lucifer, his large body looming over mine, his wings unfurled while he slaked our desire.
In the mornings I’d wake, with want on my tongue, my body loose from the hours of orgasms he gave me in my dreams.
I remembered his glowing, indigo eyes and wept with loss. Maybe we could’ve been happy. Maybe I could’ve been the balm he so desperately claimed I was. Could I have been more to him than that? Could I have truly loved the Prince of Darkness?
Scripture and bards had it wrong. He wreaked havoc, but he was as broken as any other creature that lived. He had bouts of happiness that were few and far between, but they did exist. His nature was to destroy; he fed on the wickedness of humans, on the deeds and bargains, trapping mortals and immortals alike.
But maybe—just maybe—Lucifer could be something other than what he was.
I was delirious.
It had been too many days since I’d eaten or drank anything. My dark hair was in matted knots due to sand and sweat. I was rank.
And still I hadn’t found the last pearl. Or seen any other life form. I had to have been walking in circles, because otherwise, I would’ve gotten to the end of the desert by now. But the dunes randomly shifted and rearranged, hiding the footprints I’d etched in the sand.
As I was lamenting my journey, slipping deeper into depression, I hea
rd a noise. Almost like a rattle. I whirled, attempting to find the source of the noise—a noise I hadn’t heard for the entirety of my time in this place.
I saw nothing. Bright spots burned my corneas, and my vision danced. I continued to spin, slower this time, since moving too fast winded me and I grew light-headed.
Something poked out of the sand.
It looked like a black, jagged stone rising from the dune. My eyes tried to make sense of what I was seeing: it wasn’t a rock—this wasn’t a sand slide revealing rocks. There were no rocks here.
No, this was something else.
It was a claw, and as the sunlight illuminated it, it seemed to change from black to purple.
As it rose higher out of the sand, I saw the claw was attached to the exoskeleton of a very large scorpion.
Scorpion?
There were scorpions here?
I swallowed in fear as the scorpion’s entire body was revealed. It was huge—the size of a school bus. It loomed over me, its pincers suspended in the air, its sharp stinger curled upwards over its body, ready to strike.
It lowered its head and its beady eyes blinked languorously.
Had I inadvertently traipsed across its lair, rousing it from sleep?
I held up my hands in the universal gesture of I mean no harm.
The scorpion opened its mouth and emitted the rattling sound I had heard before.
It had me shrieking in fear, and with a burst of energy I hadn’t felt in days, I began to run. The bottoms of my feet sizzled like I was walking across banked coals. With every gallop, the bag slung across my body thumped against me, the jagged edges of the snow globe cutting the skin of my body.
And damn if curiosity didn’t get the best of me: I chanced a look over my shoulder to see if I was outrunning the scorpion.
That’s when its giant stinger stabbed me in the back.
Chapter 23
I went down on top of the bag. I yelled in agony as the snow globe’s broken dome sliced my lower belly. It gutted my organs and my limbs tingled. My body was becoming numb and my lips felt frozen. I tried to turn my head, so I wouldn’t inhale a lungful of sand.
Something flipped me over and I felt the sun on my face.
I cracked an eyelid open, and would’ve cried in fear if I’d had the energy. But all I could do was muster a pathetic whimper. The scorpion hovered over me, its black, glittering eyes glinting in the bright sun.
It had found a meal and it wasn’t taking any chances of letting me get away.
Would it swallow me whole? Would I spend the rest of eternity inside the belly of a beast? Would it be the thing that killed me?
The scorpion’s poison had rendered me immobile, but my brain suffered no such relief. It was still running, completely cognizant about the inevitability of my gruesome end. Somehow, with the last of my strength, I managed to close my eyes. I didn’t need to see my own demise.
Wetness splattered across my face. It went up my nostrils. I was drowning in something tangy and bitter. It coated my tongue and infiltrated my pores.
But I had no choice but to breathe through it.
Arms reached underneath me, lifting me into the air. I was pressed against something cool, but when I tried to open my eyes, they refused to budge.
“Is she dead?” a woman, not the person carrying me, asked.
“No, but she’s been stung. Poisoned.” It was the male who carried me who spoke.
“She looks on the verge of death.”
I would’ve wrinkled my nose and said something to defend myself, but my lips wouldn’t work. Instead, I slid closer to the coolness against my cheek. It felt like metal.
“I wonder how long she’s been wandering through the desert,” the male mused.
“Long enough. Her hair is matted. Her skin is red with burn. We should’ve just left her.”
“You know the rules,” the man said.
She sighed. “My brother will want to see her.”
Finally, I was able to open my eyes. My head was inside a metal container. There was no longer burning grit plaguing my gaze and my eyelids didn’t burn anymore.
A helmet? A metal helmet?
I forced myself to remain still, even though the poison was finally leaving my system. We trekked across the sand, not stopping once, not even as the dunes rearranged.
“We’re going to have to go back out again,” the woman said. “To hunt.”
“Fine,” the man said. “Let’s stop and check on her.”
The woman made a derisive noise in the back of her throat. “Why? She’s still unconscious. Let’s get home. A storm is coming.”
“It’ll take just a few minutes. And she’s not unconscious.” He paused. “Are you?”
I stilled like a trapped rodent. Then I cleared my throat. “No.” It came out a croak.
The man stopped walking. “We need to give her some water.”
“Don’t order me,” the woman snapped. “I’m my brother’s second in command.”
He sighed.
A canteen was brought to my lips, and I was able to take a few long swallows. I moaned in enjoyment. I hadn’t had anything to drink in days.
“Easy,” the woman muttered. “Don’t want it coming back up.”
I let the water coat my chapped lips and run down my chin. “Thank you.”
She grunted.
They started walking again and I fell asleep, worry fleeing my mind.
I woke up, startled. I’d forgotten where I was and the fact that someone was holding me, so I squirmed. The man almost dropped me, but he tightened his strong arms around me and said, “Easy.”
His voice was just familiar enough to remind me of what had transpired before I’d fallen asleep.
There was no longer the sweltering heat of the desert—we were in some kind of metal contraption with high ceilings. “Where are we?”
“Home,” he said and then fell silent. “Do you think you can walk?”
I nodded, the metal helmet hitting my ears. He set me down and I removed the helmet, taking a gulp of air, which wasn’t cool, but it wasn’t full of grit, either. I took a moment to look up. Dim bulbs lined the metal ceiling.
“What is this place?” I asked.
He took the helmet from me. “It used to be a submarine.”
“Submarine?”
“Yes. The desert was once an ocean.”
My mind was reeling from that pronouncement when he removed his own helmet. His skin was weathered, and he was older than I originally thought with hard lines at the corners of his eyes and chapped lips. Must’ve come from living in the desert.
“How is it not sweltering in here?” I asked.
“Ah, we don’t really know the answer to that,” the man said. His companion, the woman, finally moved to his side, reminding me that she was there. She removed her own helmet and a long blond braid tumbled out. She was tall and had angular cheeks.
Her slanted blue eyes stared at me. “Follow me, girl.”
“I have a name,” I reminded her.
“I don’t care. If you want a bath to wash the scorpion blood off your skin, then you’ll follow me.”
I looked to the man. He shrugged. Clearly I would get no help from him. But I did want a bath. And a change of clothes.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me it had been days since I’d eaten. Under normal circumstances, I could go days without sleep or food, but I was on empty. My super quick healing powers had been used to keep me alive, to tend to my burned flesh and ease the dehydration on my lips. I was completely depleted.
I tramped after the blonde who wasted no time moving through the huge iron capsule. We were in some sort of front room, and there were no signs of other people. She stopped when she came to a heavy iron door with a wheel, which she turned.
“I won’t slow down, so keep up,” she said as she stepped through the door.
The submarine opened into an even wider space. Tents were popped up along the sides, allowing a walkway.
It looked like an underground market. People were yelling and holding up anything from fabrics to food.
Different aromas hit me—along with emotions. These people were human through and through. Their needs bled out into the air. I stopped walking and bent over, clutching my stomach. Nausea roiled through my belly and sweat prickled my brow.
“Girl?” the woman snapped.
I threw up on the ground.
The woman called for someone to bring me water. A crowd formed as people came to me, wishing to lend aid. I didn’t know how to tell them to back away, to give me time to get my barriers up. I clutched my head when I felt their emotions combat with mine.
Closing my eyes, I willed the walls into place. Suddenly, my mind was quiet once again. I opened my eyes to find the market area had gone silent and everyone’s attention was on me.
The blonde’s gaze flickered like blue flames. “Come on,” she said, in a tone much nicer than she’d spoken to me before. “You need to rest.”
I forced my chin up and walked through the throng of people that had gathered. It was hard to have any sort of pride when I was covered in scorpion blood and vomit.
The market area recovered quickly, and soon it was back to business. I followed the woman out of the market down through a hallway. The submarine was bigger than I could’ve ever imagined. How long had they lived here? How did they live here, and why?
The ground rumbled and the bulbs cemented to the ceiling wavered.
“The dunes shift,” the blonde said. “Every now and again the ship shifts too. We’re probably buried thirty feet below the sand now.”
“Buried?” I croaked.
She looked at me over her shoulder and grinned. “We usually have to wait a few days before we’re able to leave.”
“Why do you live here?” I demanded. “The desert is a nightmare. The heat, the scorpions, the insanity—”
