Mortals: Heather Despair Book One

by Leslie Copeland

  "Lying," I said. "He would have returned if he could."

  "You don't really know, do you? Whether that's true? Sam knows," said Bellum. He hobbled closer, leaning on his staff, weaving back and forth. "Samhain Despair, infallible seer. How I would love to have his skills on my side. Especially since he's so young. So impressionable. At his age, could become anything."

  "Leave Sam out of it," I snarled. Fear struck my heart. What if he could get to Sam, turn him? I mean, not that Sam would ever—but maybe, if he were wounded or confused.

  Don't think like that. Dad didn't turn, and he was wounded.

  But Dad gave away all his friends, came that whispery voice. Even Dad couldn't resist the commands of the Bellum.

  "Enough!" I shouted. "Enough of your doubt-casting! Are you here to fight me, or talk all day?" I reached my hands high, pushing as much of the blue electricity into them as possible. They burned and crackled, the power in them extreme. I'd never felt such explosiveness in my own body. I shot a lightning bolt upwards, just as an experiment. It cracked the sky.

  I'm a goddess, I thought. A freaking superhero. What am I?

  But I knew better. The thoughts were startling close to the kind of megalomania that got one trapped in Bellumism. So, I dismissed them. I was here to fight, not revel in my own power.

  "No more tricks," I said. "Let's see what you've got."

  This is crazy, I thought. As far as I knew, no one had ever actually fought the Bellum before. Maybe he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He sure seemed to use words a lot more than he used muscle, or firepower. If Sam were here, what would he do?

  Probably go in punching. And that was right. What could a spirit god do against a purely physical, mortal attack?

  Or a spectricity attack. One that contained the power of an entire spirit world storm.

  I lifted up, half-flew behind the charred trunk of the tree I'd felled, careful to avoid the hole. Hidden by its spreading roots that still quivered as if alive, I pulled all my power together, fused into a single force, my twitching hands held before my center. There. Now I needed to be able to target him.

  Mist and smoke were already zipping around me, like random missiles. Small chunks rained down, burning sulfur and black, fiery rocks like briquets. I dodged but held my power steady. I'd have, at most, one shot.

  Bellum's voice boomed over the sound of spattering rocks and zipping debris. "The New Four. Their names, mortal. I command you to reveal them."

  I felt the names form in my mind. His commands were incredibly hard to disobey.

  "Their spirit names," he thundered.

  "I don't . . . know them," I squeaked. If it were up to me, I never would, either. Seemed nothing but dangerous. "I'd never reveal them to you, even if I did!"

  I charged then, came out punching.

  "Why are you so threatened by a pack of mortals? Unless—you know one of us will take you down," I said. I glared, unflinching, into his dark, beady eyes. He raised his staff. The shock on his face, mouth hanging slack, eyes horrified, gave me extreme satisfaction. I took careful aim, then released my power. All the power I'd gathered from the storm, all the spectricity I naturally gathered from my environment. I aimed it straight at the Bellum's dark heart.

  He howled, then held his staff aloft. The storm of spectricity whirled around him, lone bolts snapping and cracking when they made contact. He gritted his long teeth, eyes bulging, as he held back the storm. I pushed, keeping it steady. The energy surrounded him. If I could keep going, hold it in place—I might be able to overpower him. Or at least do some damage!

  —Spirit names.

  I trembled, as though I stood on shaky ground. The more I blasted him with my power, the more the Bellum found ways to undercut it. The faces floated before me, portraits in my mind's eye. Trenton's blue eyes and dimples, his springy blond hair. Oskar's strong, handsome chin, hazel eyes, perfect auburn hair. And Lily, black, spiky hair with pink stripes, enormous glasses, argyle sweater, and that know-it-all look.

  I couldn't let them be found. But their spirit names were already forming in my head, against my will. St . . . Te . . . O . . .

  I struggled to hold them off, sure he'd read them from my thoughts. I clenched my forehead and held the storm steady. Smoke poured off the Bellum, his face enraged, as he continued to spin the storm around him, avoiding my attack. The storm flickered, its power starting to wane. Bellum raised his arms, his scepter. Blackish purple flickers overtook his body, spectricity of a darker kind.

  The only way was to go straight through him. I took a step forward. Couldn't avoid him, couldn't give up or I'd be dead in an instant. I urged the storm on, shaking with exhaustion.

  —Your spirit name . . . Heather Desperate Despair. What is your spirit name?

  I shook his message from my head. The storm spinning slower, Bellum waving it off, pushing it back with his purple force. I hadn't gotten through. I was too weak. I stumbled back, cowered in the shelter of the fallen tree.

  —Speak your name, my child.

  I opened my mouth. A sound came out.

  "Heather Desperate Despair," I said.

  "Nooo!" howled Bellum. "Your spirit name!"

  A wave of strength coursed through me. I stood. I floated! Almost a foot above the ground. And I let go. I pushed that storm with everything I had, everything this time, not energy I'd gathered from the storm, but inner energy—what had always been there.

  I gave it my all.

  The storm flared up, surrounding Bellum's purple fire, and through my squint, I couldn't see Bellum anymore. I could hear him screaming and smell a horrible electrical burn. I ground my teeth and clenched my fists, shoulders up around my ears, and held the pressure. My limbs shaking, my mind shrieking in exhaustion and fear, but I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't give up, nor give him one more chance to find my friends, threaten my family, attack or kill those I loved.

  After many long moments, my strength gave out. I fell forward, nose to the gray grass. I looked up, groaning, as my storm dispelled, spikes of energy crackling off into nothingness.

  And in the middle, nothingness too. The Bellum had truly gone.

  I gave a tiny cheer, then I must have passed out. I awoke to a stabbing pain on my back.

  "Now that you've thoroughly exhausted those powers—and shown me what you can do—I shall escort you to my hold. Then we shall see about those names."

  Oh no. That booming voice. Was I dreaming? Couldn't be . . .

  I rolled sideways. The long staff, jabbing at me, and up above, so far up above—Bellum. The evil ancient face leered, the thin body swayed.

  "You are your own worst enemy," he said. "All mortals are. Wore yourself out to prove something that can never be. You can never win against me. You can't even fight me. The battle was lost before it began, because you're only fighting yourself. Avoiding the inevitable—that you will join me. Together, we will stand against the All, and rule in my new world."

  I spat at him. "I won't join you," I whispered. "You've got the wrong Despair."

  "Oh. That may be," he said, sounding surprised. "The prophecy didn't specify. It could be your brother Sam who turns against."

  "Not . . . Sam." I heaved myself up, pushed his scepter away. "Not my brother. Not my friends. Not my father. Not my world." I started working up a ball of spectricity in my hands.

  Bellum laughed, deep and resounding. "More resistance? All you mortals do is resist. And it only feeds me more energy." He lifted his scepter, roaring with purple flames. "Time for a new lesson. Die slowly, and with great pain." He drove the scepter down, aimed for my heart, and in a split second I thought, This is it. Just like Able. At least I was brave. I didn't give them up.

  Then a gray blur. The scepter slammed away, Bellum cursed, and I rolled. I rolled and rolled, until I was nearly under the slough tree, hidden in some low-lying murk. I peeked out.

  Bellum stood heaving in the center of the portal field, unarmed, his scepter gone.

  "Whichever spirit
did that," he bellowed, "You'll answer to the Bellum!" He sniffed.

  "Come on, Aether!" I rubbed my ear. That tickle! I felt his arm, light as a feather, on my shoulders. The outline of a black-and-white face grinned at me.

  "Emmett!" I said.

  He held his finger before his lips, smiling. I smiled back. Then, I couldn't help it. I reached into the air—he had to be there somewhere—and hugged. What I hugged, I couldn't say, but it felt fuzzy, in turns hot and cold, and smelled of lightning.

  "Thank you," I whispered in his half-materialized ear.

  He settled into a transparent state, arm draped over me, and we watched Bellum stalk about, kicking clouds.

  "Aren't you afraid to answer to him?" I whispered.

  Emmett shook his head. "He's not the only spirit deity. I answer to Lady Mystery." He tugged at my arm. "Let's get out of here."

  "What about the All?" I whispered, as we crawled through the mist. "Don't you answer to the All?"

  Emmett stuck out his tongue. "The All's a lazy has-been. Moldy old spirit god who disappeared a hundred years ago, on permanent vacation. Nobody cares about the All anymore. 'Cept Bellum. Come on."

  He was combat-crawling toward a large, spinning hole, waving me forward encouragingly. "Come on, Aether. Just down here," he said.

  "Aether!" The voice boomed.

  I froze. Emmett, inches from the portal, stopped, a look of horror on his face.

  The Bellum stood above us, a new staff in his hand, his mouth hanging open with hunger.

  "That's your spirit name. Now I remember you." Bellum's long face nodded down at us. "And Emmett. My little black-and-white friend. Could it be?" He looked at me, then squinted at Emmett. "Is this your girlfriend? Answer me."

  Emmett turned pink. Shaking his head, he tried to push me toward the portal. But I wasn't leaving him to face this monstrosity.

  The Bellum looked uncertain. "You're so weak and scrawny." He kicked at Emmett, poked him with his staff. "You've got some nerve, though, for a mid-level spirit. One way to find out who you are. Face my wrath!"

  The staff whirled, and the purple electricity fired out of it in bolts, hitting Emmett's transparent shape again and again. Emmett flailed backward but did not resist. He sprawled out flat, gasping and flickering. He looked over at me, his black eyes sad, but resolute.

  "Go," he said. "I can handle him."

  "No, you can't," I said, reaching for him. When did he get so brave?

  Bellum blasted him again, vicious rips of purple spectricity. Emmett's head lolled back. His form twitched and flickered helplessly. Then pop! He was gone. Like a light bulb that had gone dead, his energy disappeared, his shape disappeared. He wasn't fading out or hiding this time. He'd disappeared completely.

  "No, you can't!" I screamed. I grappled around in the space where he'd been, felt nothing there. Not even the scent of lightning. Gone forever. That sunshine smile, and those deep black eyes. What had he done but defend me? I could still remember his touch, his arm on my shoulders, his essence holding me safe. But he was gone.

  I turned on the Bellum. I stood up.

  "You can't," I said, and touched the Bellum. I spoke his name. "Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes. I summon you. You will release Emmett Groswald Cornelius St. Claire Marie-Claude Juan Rodriguez Gabriel Lysander Tippetarius Zetian O'Toole Carlisle Fitzhugh!"

  My hands tingled, and the tingle became a crackle. And the loudest POP of all time shook my eardrums. Stars spiraled before my eyes. My empty arms filled with—his cool shape, shifting black-and-white. He slumped against me. Out of thin air.

  Before us, where the Bellum had stood, now only purple mists flickered. I ran my fingers through them, felt them crackle. Mystified. I had wanted Emmett. But how that took out the Bellum . . .

  My head spun, and the dizziness made me stumble. I collapsed to the gray grass, Emmett's limp form tumbling with me. We lay next to the portal, too weak to reach it. I touched his unconscious face. As my vision blurred, and my consciousness ebbed away, I saw one of his black eyes snap open. I gazed into it, felt myself falling, deep into that black well, from where I would never escape.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Victory Hard Won

  Hot red light. It seared my eyelids, seemed to burn into my eyes. I groaned and rolled away. Beneath me, creaking.

  "She's back! Heather Despair!" said a squeaky voice.

  I cracked one eye, saw a pink blur. I blinked a few times. When I opened my eyes again, bright blue eyes gazed into mine. Not Emmett's. I gasped air, croaked, tried to speak.

  "Trenton?" I finally said.

  "She's back! You guys!" Trenton hopped up and down, and my surroundings hopped with him. My surroundings that were increasingly looking like a round eye-shaped window, overhead view of the bus . . . and this creaky cot under me.

  "Teardrop trailer?" I said. "Oh crux. Was it all a dream?"

  Just as I was wondering if any of it really happened, Oskar came in, followed by Lily. They hung over me, mouths pursed, frowning.

  "She looks so pale and weird," said Lily. She lowered her face to mine. "Her eyes!"

  "I see," said Oskar, his frown very grim. "Can she talk?"

  "Why don't you ask me?" I said. Grinned. Though my throat was very dry.

  I grappled to sit up, they helped me, and then Trenton brought me some water.

  "Paranormals," I said, after drinking. "What's happened is incredible. We are involved in a battle for the safety of the worlds. All of us are on the front lines—the first ones they'll go after. That means we must be very vigilant, and we must become very good at what we do."

  "What do we do?" Trenton's mouth formed an O.

  Lily shook her head, mystified. "You got me."

  But Oskar nodded. "You made contact with the other side. They told you about the spirit battle."

  "It's everyone's battle," I said, slurping more water. "I just fought a major part of it. I defeated the Bellum."

  "The who?" Trenton looked to Oskar, and so did Lily.

  "Universal evil," said Oskar. "Who the Coterie stands against." Then Oskar turned away from me, stared out the overhead window, at the bus. "But it's not our battle. It's not a mortal battle, Heather. That's a spirit world problem. You can't have defeated the Bellum. Only the All can do that. Whatever you think happened, it was probably a spirit illusion."

  I looked down at my ragged clothes, that smelled slightly of Dead Town mold. They were all black, too. Where did this long dress come from? "I fought him. He went down," I said stubbornly. But I knew Oskar was probably right. How could I have defeated Bellum, just like that? Maybe I knocked him back a bit, but destroy him? Pretty unlikely. "Well, I disappeared him, anyway. How'd I get back here? Where's Emmett?"

  Trenton looked more and more bewildered. "We found you lying in the old school bus. Alone."

  "Completely alone," Oskar confirmed. "No spirits, no mortals, no one named Emmett. Whoever that may be."

  Lily yawned. "We've been up searching most of the night. I was afraid, you know, that it was like with Sam . . ."

  "Sam!" I smiled. "He should be with our dad, right now, at the Vic. But the Doctormans were after them." I grabbed Oskar's arm. "We need to help them."

  "Take it easy. If they're at the Vic, Max and Art can take care of it," said Oskar. He took a Smartphone from his pocket and snapped a picture of me. Then he showed it to me.

  My pale face and black eyes stunned even me. "Oh, my All. I've gone Emmett," I said. I held up my arms, watched the black lace sleeves billow. "Look at this dress. This is no illusion."

  Trenton tsk-tsked at me. "Tell me honestly, Heather. When did you go Goth?"

  Oskar laughed and ruffled Trenton's hair. "It's that ring she's wearing. It carried over some aspects of the spirit world."

  "How do you know about spirit artifacts?" I asked, clasping the ring to me.

  "Max explained that, as the heir, you might require one." Oskar held up my hand, admiring the huge black stone. Everyone gasped and oohed a
nd aahed.

  "It's an engagement ring!" Trenton sighed. "I'm so envious!"

  "No, it's not like that at all." I blushed furiously. Leave it to Trenton to say that. "This is the Ring of Esperance. Emmett gave it to me to focus my power."

  "Oooh, a token of his affection." Trenton pointed to my ring finger of my left hand, where the Ring of Esperance was firmly implanted. "You do realize, that's the finger where the engagement ring goes. If that's not an engagement ring, what will you do when you want to really get engaged?"

  I groaned. "Lily, is he right?" I held out the large, sparkling ring, so gaudy and uncomfortable. I had to wear this thing for life?

  "I don't claim to know a lot about it. But Heather, I think he may be right," said Lily.

  Great. Not only did I have to wear this thing but I'd require a very understanding husband. One who didn't mind me wearing a massive rock on my finger in place of a wedding band.

  "He put it there on purpose," said Trenton. "He wants to claim you before any other guys get wind of your charms."

  "Wha—?" I said. Trenton could say the weirdest things sometimes. "Emmett's a spirit. He's dead. He can't, you know, claim me or get engaged or whatever." I kept getting hotter and hotter, because what if he could? I imagined him, standing at the altar, in that stiff black suit with the high collar, curls neatly parted, smiling sunnily. There I was, in my long wedding gown, which in my imagination was black for some reason. He took me in his arms, he pressed his lips to mine . . .

  "Heather!" Oskar clapped his hands at me. "You look exhausted. Get some rest. I'm asking the Coterie what our next move is." He tapped his phone, then shook it, as it went black.

  "No need for that. We're here," said a voice. While we gaped, three shapes melted through the wall. Three familiar shapes: Max, Valente, and Cousin Art. Trenton screamed. Lily sat down on my cot with a thump, staring.

  "Good great cruxing All," said Oskar. "You are spirits!"

  "Technically, Max and Valente are haunting ghosts," said Cousin Art. "But yes. We're dead. I thought you knew that about us, Oskar. You knew the Four met their end."

  "I was beginning to suspect," muttered Oskar.