by Jen Ponce
“Devany.” He put a hand on his chest where his heart would be—if he had one.
“You were. Don’t pretend you weren’t. You’re always grabbing at me.” I sounded like a shrill school marm cornered by a drunk cowboy but I couldn’t help it. Too much stress today.
“You have to know you are a beautiful woman. I’ll admit, I have a thing for brunettes, but there’s something about you that makes me want to start at your toes and kiss, nibble, and suck my way up your body.” Although he hadn’t moved, he felt closer. The room heated. “You are passionate and fearless once you make a decision.”
I opened my mouth. Hell no, I wasn’t fearless but he wasn’t done. He held up a finger.
“There’s desire there, coiled up so tightly I can feel the tension from here. I want to be the one to unleash that. Not now. But I will get you in my bed and when you’re there, you will scream for me. I guarantee it.”
Then he just turned away, showing off his well-made ass as if he made those kinds of declarations all the time. Hell, maybe he did.
Stiff-legged, I went to the window to look out into the dark night. Snow still covered the ground and the rooftops, making the neighborhood look like a store-bought Christmas village. The house right across the way reminded me of a gingerbread house, with the candy canes crisscrossed on the front, their red and white lights twinkling. Looked just like my neighbor’s house, in fact.
My breath fogged the glass as I leaned close, trying to read the house number. “You live a block down from my house?” I may have shrieked. I rubbed at the fog with my sleeve. “You do. What the hell kind of creepy thing to do is that?”
“I wanted to keep you safe.”
I spun. “Why? If I died, you’d get to ascend, right? So why keep me safe?”
He sighed, buttoned up his jeans. “I just explained why. Weren’t you listening?”
“Because you want to do me? That’s not a reason.”
He shrugged into his shirt, his long fingers flying over the buttons. “You can help me find Cyres. You have a great power inside you I wouldn’t mind exploiting. You’re intriguing and funny and I quite enjoy watching you work.” He slipped on socks, balancing without a wobble on either leg as he did. “Can I stop now? Or do you want me to continue to … stroke your ego?”
“Shut up.” As far as witty repartee went, it sucked, but I was tired and heart-sick. Guaranteed I’d think of the perfect thing to say later on as I was lying awake in bed. “Are you ready?”
Without answering, he pulled shoes from the bottom of the closet and slipped them on. When he stood, I went ahead and admired him. He looked so damn edible it wasn’t even funny. Part of his lure, Arsinua had warned me. I knew that. I did. Didn’t make saying no any easier.
“I might fuck this up the first time. Just saying. I try to focus and I do well for a few seconds and then the magic starts breaking up and flying away.” I smoothed my hands down my hips knowing he’d insist on contact to go into the Slip. Hand holding was innocent enough, wasn’t it?
“I’ll do my part to steady you.” His skin was warm and rough against mine. Calm flooded me at his touch and a soft smile tipped up the corners of my mouth. I’d forgotten this talent of his. Much more relaxing than the lust-inducing touch.
I shut my eyes, accessing the magic in the heart much faster with Tytan’s help. Painstakingly I recreated the feel of a hook, building the door in my head until I imagined I could knock on it. When I opened my eyes, the hook was there, shimmery and substantial. “Yes.” I took a step forward but was jerked to a stop. He hadn’t moved. “Come on.”
“Things will be dangerous, Devany. Ravana’s unmaking set chaos afoot. Your absence from the Slip will have let that chaos grow.” He squeezed my hand. “Be careful.”
I nodded, glad he’d seen fit to warn me. More often than not, I’d found myself stumbling into places and situations of which I knew nothing. I didn’t know what all the chaos entailed, but at least I could be expecting trouble. “Thank you.”
“Let’s reclaim your ascendancy.”
I nodded and stepped through the hook into the Slip.
-FOUR-
The wrongness I’d experienced when I first entered the Slip was gone. The farther I traveled to this world, the less it bothered me. It still looked ephemeral, like bubbles made to take on the vague shape of a civilization that lived between worlds. The ground, such as it was, still felt gooey and insubstantial, as if a wrong step could send my foot sinking into it.
“This place hasn’t changed.”
Tytan was grinning. “Ah. Home.” He pulled me to the right, tugging me through a strange maze of off-kilter alleyways. I couldn’t say there were buildings, just blobs of forms and weird bulges, all made of globular, soap-shiny, bubble stuff.
Since I didn’t need to find my way with him guiding me, I took the time to try out my Magic Eye here. The shift from my regular vision to the Magic Eye didn’t take much and I opened my eyes carefully, unsure what to expect. To my shock, the Slip swam before my eyes and coalesced into solidity. Real angles, real form, buildings, shops.
A yank on my arm. Tytan turned back. “What are you doing?”
“It looks normal. I mean, really normal.” I had started adjusting to the place a while back but this was a whole new level of understanding.
“That’s just an illusion, you know.”
I shushed him, cocking my head. “Do you hear that?”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“That noise.” It sounded like a soft chorus, sung in a nearby auditorium.
He tugged me back into movement, slowing his walk to pace me. “That’s noise leftover from the beginning of things. If you’re hearing it …” He gazed at me, speculation in his eyes.
“That I’m hearing it, what?”
“You are in sync with things. Congratulations. Plus you set the whole damn place.”
“Which means …” I saw several Skriven in the street, gazing around at the place as if they’d never seen it before.
“That little thing I used to do to make things bearable for you here? Made my manse more like your Earth homes? You did that on a massive scale.” He laughed, turning heads of some of the denizens in the street. “Wait until the other Originators hear about this. You’ll be famous.”
“I don’t want to be famous.” He didn’t hear me. He’d sped up again, practically dragging me along behind him. I yanked my hand free, not sure why I’d still be hanging onto him. Underneath my feet, perfectly set cobblestone. Ornate street lights decorated the curbsides, along with benches and elegant store fronts. It was my home town—or at least the stylized version that often showed up in my dreams. A van done up in bright, candy colors sat on the corner beside the shop I’d spent most of my days in growing up. Not only did they sell candy, they made the best Coke floats and had air hockey in the back.
I drifted toward the store.
“Devany? It’s not real. Despite what it looks like on the outside. Now come on. You have things you must get done.”
He didn’t grab at me so I followed, gazing once over my shoulder before the store fell out of sight. He brought me to the arena where I’d faced off with Ravana and killed her. The place looked like my high school football field now though, and damned if a few Skriven weren’t tossing around a football. The strange, tree-like Skriven was there. Had he taken root, never to leave? I rubbed the backs of my arms as his many eyes rolled toward me.
“You have returned. Good. There are many things left undone in Ravana’s unmaking.”
He made a noise, a shushing sound like the wind through winter’s leaves. In moments, more Skriven appeared in the stadium, circling around, all of them eying me―well, those that had eyes.
“Who was it that set this whole quadrant?” This from a curvy Skriven who looked like she was made from granite. She shimmered when the light hit her a certain way. “Why is there a spawn in our circle?”
Tytan leaned toward me. “There are thing
s I need to do as well.”
“You’re leaving me?” I might have squeaked. He winked at me and walked away, leaving me with …
“This is the Skriven who unmade Ravana?” This, from one covered in the iridescent colors of a peacock. “I’ve never see her before.”
“There are millions of Skriven in every quadrant. Why would you have seen her before?” The one who spoke looked human but for her gleaming red goat eyes. Tytan had worn the same eyes first time I met him. Intimidation factor, I supposed, or boredom.
Something in her expression let me know she knew I wasn’t a Skriven. She knew I was human. Perhaps even knew more.
The peacock turned its back to me, sliding onto a bleacher seat.
“Listen, I’m here because Tytan said there were things I needed to do. Plus I have to figure out where my er, souls are hidden and keep them safe.”
Someone tittered. My mouth went dry and I remembered what it was like to get up in front of the class in middle school. I wanted to say, ‘Don’t forget I know how to kill you guys.’ I dug my fingernails into my palms, instead. If they didn’t give me answers, I would find someone who would.
“We have never had to adjust to a replacement. You’ll have to forgive us.” Goat eyes again. She rose in one liquid movement, her long, black hair and clove-colored skin reminding me of Jasmine from Aladdin. “I’m Amara.”
“Devany.” I stuck my hand out before I remembered she wasn’t human. She just laughed and shook it.
“Come, join us for a Purging.” Her hand, strong despite its delicate appearance, tightened on mine as she tugged me to the center of the field. The Originators slithered, walked, hopped, and even flew down to join us. Many of them looked human or human-like. Some, like the tree, were alien enough to make me jerk my eyes from them, unable to make sense of what they even were. “You’ve already collected a soul. That is excellent for one so young.”
I dug my heels in. She was talking about Tom. Could she sense him inside me? “I didn’t mean to collect him and I don’t want him hurt.” He’d been hurt enough.
She pushed me into the circle beside the peacock. “The souls are collected, filtered, and returned to the Source. This soul cannot return to the Source the way it is, with its personality intact. That would contaminate everything.”
“Then I’ll let him go.”
She arched a brow at me. “To wander the Earth lost? Unable to rest?”
Like Marley’s ghost, ole Scrooge’s dead friend? “I won’t let him go until I know he won’t be harmed. Or tortured.” The Skriven I’d met weren’t exactly truth-tellers. More like bullshit artists.
“Judge for yourself. You’ve touched the Source, have you not? Felt the power course through your body? It’s the beginning of everything, of all of us. That soul started in the Source and now yearns to return there.”
“Then why did he look so shocked when I accidentally sucked him inside me?” I hissed the question as softly as I could, unwilling to let anyone else hear me. “He didn’t look like he was returning home.”
“Because you aren’t home. You’re the filter. He didn’t want to lose himself within you. Natural, really. He spent many years being who he was. Not something most living creatures give up without a fight.”
Around us, a hum had started, a low, basso hum that rumbled in my chest and down to my toes. It almost made sense, which is why I was determined to make sure Tom’s soul stayed right where it was until I knew for sure letting him return to the Source was the right thing to do. The sound grew until it itched behind my eyeballs and burrowed into my teeth, making me clench them to stop them from vibrating.
An Originator across from me threw its head back. Shimmery silver, yellow, gold, and blue light poured from its chest, and four sleek, bright lights streaked into the middle of the circle and melted into each other. Another Originator and then another threw their heads back and released shimmery, darting light from their bodies. Inside me, something battered around, looking for a way out, a way to join that growing ball of souls as it spun and bobbed on the fifty-yard line.
Originators continued dumping their collected souls into the ball as I wondered if carrying the souls inside them made them vulnerable. Surely not. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been the first newcomer to the circle.
Silence dropped into the arena. The ball hung, suspended. Anticipation flavored the air with the electrical sharpness of ozone. Then the ball imploded, collapsing to a single, brilliant point of light. It vanished.
I laid a hand on my belly. Felt Tom still with me.
“You should have let him go.” Goat-eyes had bed head. Her lips were swollen and she wore the satisfied expression of a woman well laid. “It will only get harder. He will force his way out and that is never a pleasant experience.”
“Sorry. I just don’t trust anything about this place.”
“Including me?”
I nodded, ignoring the twinge of guilt that wanted me to befriend her and let her lead me through this mess.
She showed her teeth in what I supposed she intended to be a grin. Didn’t quite work. “Good. You’re smart, at least.” She clapped me on the back and sent me stumbling a few steps before Neutria’s agility and strength brought be back under control.
After most of them had cleared out, the tree-Skriven turned its multitudinous eyes on me. “Ravana owned many properties, both here and in the solid world. Get control over them and your spawn or there will be others of the Originators who will look to your git for a suitable replacement.”
Not exactly a subtle threat. ‘Get your shit together or you’re out.’ “You said you would teach me.”
The branches of the tree waved a bit, though there wasn’t any wind. “Come closer.”
My lip curled. Stomach in distress, I strode over, unwilling to show my fear. One of its branches waved close to my head but didn’t―thank everything―touch me. “Use your trog. The one you made your draw.”
“Trog? What the hell is a trog?”
“Servant. Whipping boy. Spawn of Amara.”
I whipped my head around, sure I would see her staring at me but she wasn’t in sight. “I took one of her spawn? Is that … accepted here?” She hadn’t seemed pissed I’d stolen one of her children, not that I’d known what I was doing at the time.
“No. That you’re still alive testifies to your power. Though I would suggest you never let down your guard.”
Great. I had the urge to check my back for a ‘Kick Me’ sign. Or worse. “Can I give him back? He isn’t very nice.” I thought of him as Medusa Head because of the snake-like tentacles on his noggin.
“I would advise against it. He must obey you. And he can teach you our ways. For your own good, learn quickly, Devany Full-Soul.”
Ah. I had a new name. No need to ask what it meant. Only Skriven with a soul. Yay me. “Thank you.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “For the help.”
“Hmm.” It sounded intrigued with the notion. I briefly thought of the whole fairy mythology and the superstition about saying “thank you” burdening you with a debt. I hoped that wasn’t the case with Skriven.
I left him, unwilling to talk anymore to the lump of bark. Outside of the stadium, I realized I had no idea where to go.
Concentrate on the Skriven. Mate scent easy to follow.
‘Please don’t say mate and think of Tytan at the same time.’
Neutria didn’t laugh like she usually did. Instead she did something that made my head swim and my eyes water.
“What are you doing?” I grabbed my head though the weird feeling was gone.
Fixing your broken sense of smell. Inhale. Find.
I took a breath despite myself and the overwhelming odors about knocked me off my feet. I bent double, my stomach heaving. “Neutria! I don’t want to smell. Not everything. Goddamn it, fix me.”
I did.
Growling, I stood, breathing as shallowly as possible. Even so, I could smell way more nasty cr
ap than I ever wanted. Just when I started complaining again, I caught it. A warm smell, spiced like thyme and musk. “Shit on a brick. I do not need to know how he smells.” Muttering, I followed my nose, feeling like a bloodhound as I stopped at each corner to lift my head and suck in the flavorful air.
When I came on his mansion his scent intensified, mingling with another, equally strong smell. “Can you put it back now? Please?”
No answer. Of course. I barged through the door, smacking it into the wall with a low thud. “Tytan! I need your help.”
An elegant looking man walked into the hallway, tugging down the sleeves of his suit jacket. Gold cuff links winked at his wrists and the smell of brand new luxury car wafted over me. He smiled, his eyes doing a slow burn from my head down to my toes and back up. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
No duh. Okay, yes he was gorgeous, but he was a Skriven. Skriven equaled trouble and I had enough trouble as it was without adding Tall, Dark, and Dangerous to the list. “Where’s Tytan?”
“That rabble?” He sniffed, his lip curling.
“You’re a demon creature living in a bubble. Not an English lord or whatever you’re pretending to be. Where. Is. Tytan?”
Despite my rant, he smiled then turned to the mirror and checked his tie. Then he smoothed his blond hair back with rather stubby fingers. “He’s out back, nursing his wounds.”
“This is his house.”
“Not anymore. Not since Ravana sent him to die.”
I propped a hand on my hip. “I’m Ravana’s replacement and I reinstated him.”
This time I managed to get the tiniest flicker of annoyance to run across his features. “Ah. My new boss. Let me ask you, Devany, is it? How long do you think you’ll last? We feel the geis Ravana laid to hide our souls unraveling. The moment we find our souls it will only be a matter of time before one of us ascends and challenges you. I doubt you will defeat one of our kind again.”
“Listen, Mister Prissy Pants, I don’t give a flying Fig Newton what you think. Get out or I’ll end you.” I didn’t have a soul handy, but since none of the Skriven or Originators knew exactly how I’d unmade Ravana, I figured my bluff would work. For now.
