by L. L. McNeil
Tress muttered something incoherent under her breath.
‘What was that?’ Fallow adjusted the ring on her pinky finger.
Tress took a breath. ‘I said, I want Gorath.’
Seila rolled her eyes.
‘Well, I’m afraid that is not something I can offer you, yet. Sierra is scouting for me. As soon as Gorath returns to my territory, I will know.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’ Tress asked.
‘Then, when you’re fighting fit, we will go after him.’
Seila couldn’t object to that.
Tress still clutched one of her axes, and she stared at it for a long while. ‘Library is fine.’
Fallow nodded, and chose not to address her childish behaviour. ‘I shall ask Delgo to prepare it for you. And some tea, I think. Tej, would you please give me a hand?’ She kept her attention on Tress for another few seconds before she left the Orangery, no doubt to make arrangements for Tress’s comfort, Tej following a few steps behind her.
Just as Seila was about to return to her comfortable seat, Tress looked up at her. Seila narrowed her eyes. ‘What?’
The assassin scowled. ‘Gorath is mine.’
‘Yes. You’ve been saying that since you turned up here.’
‘I mean it, Phantom. Don’t even think about taking that from me. Killing Gorath is…’ Tress struggled for either breath or words, Seila couldn’t tell. ‘Revenge. For my brothers and sisters. I need to bring my mother his head.’
‘I’ll give you his head,’ Seila said.
‘That isn’t what I meant,’ Tress said. She took a step closer to Seila, then thought better of it, and kept still. She wobbled slightly where she stood, but she didn’t fall or slip. ‘This is personal. Not just some other demon. Don’t you understand?’
Seila understood. But she didn’t care. ‘My soul is the most important thing to me. I don’t care about your vendetta, or your family. I don’t care for much other than my own hunt.’ It was cold and callous, but it was the truth. And it wasn’t as if Tress thought much different about her, anyway. ‘Once I reclaim my soul, I’ll be whole again. I’m on the brink of death. I need to kill demons to stay alive. When I get my soul back, it’ll stop. An Elite Demon stole it. Ripped it from me. Left me to die.’
Tress’s face hardened as Seila spoke.
‘So, I can’t let you have the kill. If Gorath has my soul….’
‘Gorath is from my world. Why would he have it?’
‘I don’t know. The demon who took mine gave it to others. It could be anywhere, now. Any demon could have it. If Gorath crosses dimensions, what’s to say he doesn’t have it?’
Tress made to fold her arms, unbalanced herself, then leaned forward and rested on Malsiador’s axe. ‘You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?’
‘So long as this ends with Gorath’s death, your family has been avenged.’ Seila couldn’t believe she was trying to reason with Tress, but there wasn’t anything else she could do,
Tress shook her head and snorted again. ‘This is pride. Honour. Anger. This is who I am.’
‘Then you should be thanking me for killing Gorath for you.’ Seila had meant it as a jest, but those words tipped Tress over the edge.
She pulled her other axe and span it in her hand. The smoke that poured from the jewels embedded in the dragon handles exploded faster than before. Within the space of a few heartbeats, Theramax and Malsiador both filled the Orangery with their bulk, both dragon’s gazes locked on Seila.
‘Tress…?’ Seila gulped, more taken by surprise than anything else.
When the dragons breathed smoke and fire, Seila reacted on instinct. She leapt into the air to avoid their attacks, but found the dragons were immediately on her. With claws, tails, and snapping jaws, they darted after her like eels.
She barely had the time to think about the fact that Tress had set her dragons on her. She was too busy fleeing for her life. There was no time for a counter, no time to strike back. It was dodge or be incinerated.
They were bigger than before. Faster, and stronger, too. Despite the confined quarters of the Orangery, they were able to move and chase the Phantom like a pair of cats chasing a mouse. When Theramax breathed her smoke, it filled the room with a thick, churning darkness that Seila could hardly see through.
Her beating wings cleared some of it, but she darted high and low to avoid accidentally flying straight into one of the waiting dragon’s jaws.
‘Get rid of her!’ Tress yelled from somewhere below.
Seila couldn’t see much, could hardly make out the assassin’s silhouette, but wondered if staying closer to Tress might make the dragons less likely to attack?
With nothing left to try, Seila dived. She skidded on the floor, dug her nails into the smooth, hard wood, and came to a stop a few feet from Tress.
The dragons didn’t hesitate. Malsiador’s gold and red head snaked through the smoke, his jaws snapping close enough to Seila that she could smell the ash of his breath. She coughed, covered her face with her arm, and managed to keep just out of reach of the dragon’s fangs.
Malsiador roared in frustration, and Tress cackled with delighted amusement.
Seila wondered what on earth had made Tress snap. Sure, she’d set her dragons on Tej once before—but he’d touched her axes without permission. She’d never actually attacked him directly. Before, however harsh, it had at least been warranted.
This time, it was more than biting back. This time, her dragons were trying to kill.
‘Tress, what are you doing?’ Seila screamed.
‘Making you leave,’ Tress replied, her voice thin, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
Seila rolled away, narrowly avoiding another wash of flame from Malsiador. This had to stop, and soon. With Tress injured, the dragons were far more powerful. It was the only explanation for their increased speed and strength.
She slashed once behind her, was sure she felt the tip of her sword bite into something, but the dragons’ relentless pursuit didn’t cease. Seila glanced at the open window, and considered fleeing for her life. It was what Tress wanted, clearly. And there was no way she could fight off both dragons, not when they were so aggressive.
A crackle of light tore through the Orangery, halting the dragons in their steps and giving Seila a few seconds to breathe and gather her bearings.
‘Not. In. My. House.’
Seila didn’t need to see to know it was Fallow. Every word she spoke was punctuated by another burst of light as her enchantments cleared the room of smoke, doused the fires, and pushed the dragons away.
‘Lady Tress, this is beyond a laughing matter.’
Another burst of light, and the last of the smoke disappeared. Seila hovered near the ceiling, staying close to the chandelier that dominated the centre of the room. Fallow stood in the doorway, Delgo behind her. Even though Delgo was physically larger than she was, in that moment, Fallow dwarfed him. Her skirts bristled with her magic, and her skin glowed, eyes flashing with barely contained anger. ‘You are a guest in my house. I could banish you from this place, from this dimension. Make it so you burst into flames the moment you set foot in my territory.’
Seila swallowed. Tress trembled before the Enchantress.
‘I have given you chance after chance, offered you every courtesy you demand, given you access to my home, my Kouzlo, my power. And you do this?’ Fallow opened her arms to show Tress the damage her dragons had caused. ‘No more chances, Lady Tress. I do not wish to confine you or banish you, but you give me no choice.’
‘Fallow…’ Tress said, her voice pleading. ‘Gorath is…my family are…’
The Enchantress scowled, her face twisting into an ugly grimace. ‘I know your history. Why else would I offer to help you? Let you continue your vendetta here? But not at the risk of my Kouzlo.’
‘Seila is just a Phantom—’
‘Seila is of Caramond House!’ The force of Fallow’s words drove Tress back to her knees. ‘You may
be a princess of your own world. But I am a Goddess here. You must remember that.’
Tress didn’t speak for a long while. She didn’t move, either, and Seila wasn’t sure if that was due to Fallow’s magic, or the assassin had simply well and truly been put in her place.
Damon, Tej, and Ashante approached the Orangery soon after, no doubt drawn by all the commotion. None of them spoke once they surveyed the scene.
Eventually, Tress lifted her chin slightly. ‘Malsiador. Theramax.’
The two dragons, who had been cowering against the far wall, shifted into mist, the smoke wreathing their forms as they returned to their respective axes, and the jewels of their eyes faded.
‘Delgo. Please accompany Lady Tress to her new quarters,’ Fallow said.
The Djinni slid forward, his trademark fitted suit unblemished, and held out his arm. Tress took it without question, and allowed him to help her stand again. He led her from the room and down the hallway without another word.
Only when Tress was well out of sight did Seila land. Her wings fluttered, and she twisted herself left and right, to make sure she hadn’t pulled anything or injured herself during the frenzied attack. When she was sure she was fine, she turned to Fallow.
‘The demons are the real enemy. Not each other,’ Fallow said, before Seila could say anything.
‘I know.’
‘We cannot let them tear us apart.’
Seila thought back to her idea of leaving again, of leaving all this childish drama behind and doing her own thing, like she always had.
But then she’d be leaving Fallow’s safety. Her knowledge.
All she wanted, all she had ever wanted, was her soul. To be who she was meant to be. To understand who that was, to reclaim her memories, her humanity.
Fallow looked at her a long while, her soft green eyes seemingly able to peer into Seila’s deepest thoughts. ‘I know it goes against your nature, Phantom Seila. Once Gorath is dealt with, we will have room to think, time to talk, and I will see how I can best help you. Until then, I have a duty.’
Seila sighed. ‘I know.’ She expected Fallow to reprimand her, to tell her to give Tress the kill. But Fallow said nothing more, simply gave her another once over, then sighed. ‘It will not be long. We are receiving reports of demon attacks close to our border. I will keep you updated.’
Seila nodded, and watched Fallow leave.
Tej, Damon, and Ashante lingered. They all looked like they had a thousand questions they wanted to ask, but none of them had the guts to. Eventually, Ashante said, ‘We’ll need everyone when we take on Gorath.’
Seila didn’t want to believe it. Surely after sealing his Mirage, it would be a far easier fight. But considering the strength with which Tress fought for the right to kill him, Fallow’s desperation to keep Seila near, and Ashante’s constant warnings, Seila wondered if maybe she was in over her head by joining the Kouzlo.
20
Caramond House was surprisingly comfortable once Lady Tress Vitali moved into the library. She kept herself locked away, and only mingled with the others when she was in a sociable mood, and therefore less likely to go ballistic on them.
For Seila, it was several days of sweet relief.
Ashante continued to study the soil from the forest clearing where they’d seen the light. Fallow hadn’t been able to offer any explanation for what they’d seen, and neither had Delgo. It unnerved Seila somewhat. If someone as ancient and all-powerful as Fallow didn’t know what they’d encountered, what chance did the rest of them have?
Seila sipped from a mug of black tea. She’d found she’d acquired the taste for it now, and preferred to have one mug most mornings. The energy from the Prowler she’d killed still coursed through her veins—it would be several more days before she needed to take down another demon.
It was almost peaceful, not having to hunt demons every day. Leeches and Stingers weren’t really worth her time, anymore.
She wondered if this was what it would be like to have a soul. To enjoy a quiet morning with food and drink, enjoying the company of friends, and not have to worry about hunting and slaying the demons scrounging at the city’s doorstep.
She’d know who she was, too. She’d have her memories. Her goals and dreams. Perhaps she had a family that she could seek out. She wondered if they were Kouzlo or regular humans. Or something else entirely. Having met Fallow, Delgo, and Tress—who all passed for regular humans—she supposed it could be a possibility that she and her family might not even have originated in this dimension.
The possibilities were limitless.
Seila sipped on her strong, sweet drink, as Damon sat in a chair, scribbling notes on runes and seals in his book. ‘Any of it making more sense?’
‘Not really,’ Damon admitted. ‘But if I copy everything Claes says—to the letter—something will click, I’m sure. It’s gotta sink in at some point.’
Seila wasn’t altogether sure she believed that, but she didn’t dissuade him.
Tej, too, sat on a chair, his feet up and crossed over one another. He thumbed through a graphic novel with mild interest. His arm was still in a sling, and would be for at least another week, but he was grateful to be out of the infirmary and in the main house where everyone else was.
And Seila felt more comfortable, too. At least she knew that Fallow did care about her—at least enough so that she didn’t feel the need to leave as strongly as she had before Tress had attacked her.
‘So many types of runes. So much terminology.’ Damon went on, flicking back pages to check earlier notes before scribbling new ones down.
‘Like what?’
Damon ruffled his hair. ‘Squares and triangles, stars and points. Flags, balloons, boxes, fishtails.’
The words meant nothing to Seila. She couldn’t even see what shapes had to do with runes.
‘And after all that, you have pins—straight line and double parallel—and there’s—’
‘I thought you’re learning to seal Mirages, not learning to sew.’ Seila took another sip of her tea.
Damon barely contained a laugh. ‘Yeah, me too. But it’s manipulating the fabric of the dimension, as Claes keeps telling me. Guess there’s a crossover with sewing and stitching?’
‘I’m sure you’ll be able to make Amber a wonderful scarf for the cold weather,’ Seila said. She wasn’t altogether being sarcastic, but Damon rarely took offence from anything she did or said.
Damon sighed longingly, rubbed his eyes with his palms, then closed the book.
‘Finished?’
He yawned in response, and Seila smiled. Before Seila could say anything else, Fallow entered the Orangery. She played her piano most days—you could set your watch by her—but this wasn’t the usual time she came in. Seila put her mug down on the table. ‘Something wrong?’
Fallow brushed down her sleeves and straightened the material. ‘Sierra is...seeing some troubling things.’
‘What’s she seen?’ Damon asked, notebook of runes closed and forgotten.
Fallow brought her hand to her chin. ‘She…she cannot see it.’
Seila and Damon shared a look, and even Tej looked up from his book, his eyebrows furrowed.
‘There is devastation near Brockenhurst,’ Fallow said.
‘Where’s that?’ Seila asked, already getting to her feet.
‘Along the coast. Further west to where you rescued Tress.’
‘Well, that’s outside your territory, isn’t it?’ Seila said, deflated.
Fallow didn’t reply immediately. She sat down at her piano, ran her fingers over the keys, but didn’t play any notes. Her eyes had the faraway gaze of someone who wasn’t yet fully awake in the morning, and Seila presumed it was because she was currently looking through Sierra’s eyes.
Ashante entered the Orangery, beads and glass clutched between her hands. ‘Fallow! Have you—’
‘I am watching,’ Fallow said, cutting off the other Enchantress.
Confusion spiral
led into the room. Devastation in a village outside of Fallow’s territory, but she couldn’t see what it was? And why was Sierra flying so far away?
Damon and Tej clearly had the same thoughts, but they had less patience. Damon asked, ‘What’s going on, Fallow?’
The Kouzlo Leader sighed and shook her head, her golden hair almost shimmering in the morning sunlight. ‘I don’t know. I see a demon, or what looked to be the damage caused by a demon...but I cannot see it. Sierra has followed it night and day, and can see nothing.’
A sudden, horrible, sense of dread flared in the pit of Seila’s stomach.
This sounded all too like the pillar of purple light, and the demon’s voice. Had there been something there after all? She didn’t understand how it could be possible.
Seila bit her lip. ‘If there is a demon, how could it be invisible? They aren’t magical creatures like you or Ashante?’
‘Sounds like Sekki,’ Tej said. He’d closed his book and leaned forward in his chair to join the conversation. ‘I had no idea he was a demon. Even bought that bracelet from him, didn’t I?’
And then everything fell into place. Seila had known Sekki used some sort of trick to disguise his true form within a human shell. He’d been able to hide his power in jewels, even transport a Soul Eater demon in one of them.
And he’d been able to hide his shop from passers by.
‘Fallow. I think...I think it might be something to do with Sekki,’ Seila said, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘How? We defeated him. He fled. He would not be able to do this,’ Fallow replied.
Seila shook her head. ‘What about his jewels? Ashante, didn’t you say he’d poured some of his power into those? He managed to hide his shop. What if...what if he could hide a demon?’
‘A trick of glamour?’ Ashante gasped. ‘To allow it to move without being seen? To prevent the Kouzlo from taking it on?’
Seila’s heart thundered in her chest. She didn’t quite understand how the demon’s magic worked, but Ashante and Fallow looked at one another gravely. It clearly wasn’t outside the realms of possibility. But what she wanted to know was what sort of demon they were facing. If it wasn’t Gorath, was there some other new demon out to play? One that could be hidden from sight and sense?
