Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3)

by Ponce, Jen

  “‘An army of sheep, led by a lion, is greater than an army of lions led by a sheep.’ Does this mean anything to you?”

  Her eyes were a deep shade of green, the color on the undersides of leaves and in the dark spaces of a forest canopy. “No. I—” I paused. Thought of Sharps. Thought of her name and her brother’s. He’d reminded me of a lion when I’d first seen him. “I may know who the host is.” I pushed myself up, grabbing the sides of my head to keep my brain from falling out. “Can you do that for my son as well?”

  “I can if you bring him to me.”

  I couldn’t imagine bringing him anywhere near this cursed place. Of course, I wouldn’t have a choice if I couldn’t find the host in time. There was no way I’d risk having my son twisted and tortured by the thing that had tossed Krosh into a coma and had ruined so many lives in Sephony’s time. “I’m sorry for all that happened to you.”

  “I don’t want the stories told about me to leave out my love for Sorgen. The choice I made. It diminishes us both. However this ends, will you promise to tell the true story about me and not one colored by politics and perceptions?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t add, ‘If I live long enough,’ since that kind of negativity never got me anywhere. “I will do my damnedest to get Ty here to you. But listen, he’s not this child. He’s not anyone’s child. Ravana raised him, tortured him, taught him to be Skriven.” I nibbled at a cuticle before I realized that I was doing it, and stuffed my hands in my pockets instead. “I’ve seen what happens when a Skriven gets close to his soul. Can you keep him safe?” I nodded at the babe. I’d kill Ty myself if he harmed that baby.

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation. A shit ton of sorrow though. The whole situation was crap. “I guess I’ll go, try to track down the host. It may be a while before I get Ty here. I might need him to kick ass with me.”

  The small smile didn’t hold any happiness. “I’ve waited millenia for him.”

  “Right.” The emiliometer was in my pocket and I worked at it with my fingers. “Can I leave from here or do I have to walk back down the path and out the cleft before I can hook?”

  “Hook?”

  “Make a magical door to step through,” I said, wondering what they’d called it back in her day. “You know what I mean?”

  “A khofa? You can conjure them as a Skriven would?”

  “Yes. But I’m nothing like the Skriven.” I remembered her words about Ty and I being the same. “I’m not like your son.”

  She let the baby in her arms catch her finger and pull it to his mouth to suck. “It matters not whether you believe it. You are like my son, born from the love of a Wydling and witch.”

  “My parents were human.”

  Her expression was knowing. “Don’t blind yourself to the truth because it doesn’t suit you.”

  I opened my mouth to argue and then decided against it. She would believe what she wanted. I wasn’t like Tytan. Maybe she was sensing the heart. He’d had it commissioned, had helped Arsinua collect the ingredients she’d needed to make it. Maybe it held more of him than he’d let on.

  Which wasn’t disturbing in the least. No.

  “So. Can I make a khofa here?”

  She shook her head. “This is a sacred place, twisted though it became through my grief. The nature of Tempest Peaks keeps the souls safe who reside here.”

  The burnt man hadn’t looked safe. “Then I need to get going. I have a long walk down.”

  She didn’t tell me good luck or goodbye, just stood staring after me as I walked back to the obsidian path and put my foot on it. The air shimmered and she disappeared once more in favor of the tree and the hill, with its silent sentinels.

  I stopped in front of him. “Sorgen?”

  Once more, the eyes stared out from the wreck of his face. No eyelids. No mercy, no respite from the world.

  I don’t know why I said what I did, next. It just came out. Diarrhea of the mouth. Too much taking on of guilt that wasn’t mine to bear. “If there’s a way I can help you, I will try to find it.” I paused. “She asked after you.”

  A breeze kicked up, sloughing ash from his skin and tossing it up into the air like confetti. I walked again, squinting to keep from getting his burnt body parts in my eyes.

  The cleft was wider than before or maybe I just wasn’t paying as much detailed attention. Either way, I slipped through without any more slices in my skin.

  No awful bad people waited outside for me. That was a bonus. I hooked to the Dreaming Place, ready to get Krosh out of hock. My imaginary fishing rod was free of gunk and I was ready to cast my line.

  ***

  Ellisi and the other Elders were still in the main cavern. Someone had brought in a large tray filled with fruits, meats, and nuts. The smell made my mouth water. I dearly hoped I didn’t have to do anything other than ask nicely to get something to eat. “I’m back.”

  The old woman’s toothless grin made me smile in return. “Did you find out what happened to the goddess?”

  I nodded. “I did. She gave me the truth and asked me to make sure you all heard it. But,” I said, holding up a hand when they erupted in conversation, “I am hungry. Tired. And I think I can wake Kroshtuka. I hope you don’t think I’m rude when I ask that you allow me to tell the story later.”

  The grouchy old fart, Fisli, grumbled at that, but Ellisi gestured toward the table. “Get yourself something to eat and then Fisli will take you to your mate.”

  Though I appreciated the food, I didn’t know why she had to send him with me. Someone handed me a plate and I filled it with an assortment of goodies before letting Fisli lead me to Kroshtuka. I kept my mouth stuffed full so I wouldn’t have to make small talk. Thankfully, he didn’t have anything to say to me, either, and we walked in silence to the pool where Kroshtuka floated.

  Before he left, he said, “If you wake him. Well. Thank you.”

  Shocked, I did nothing but stand and stare after him for a whole minute. Then I turned to the pool holding Kroshtuka. Had it just been hours ago that I’d climbed naked into the pool with him? I ate the rest of the food, then set the plate aside and sank into the water beside him, too tired to even peel off my clothes. I shut my eyes and pulled up the control room. No black gook in sight. Thank heavens. Now if only I could get it out of my son, without taking him to Tempest Peaks.

  I grasped the reel in both hands and lifted it off the wall. It was heavy and awkward, sized like the reels people used to catch sharks, the pole double any fishing rod Tom ever had. I wouldn’t have enough space to cast it in the control room. I would have to figure something else out. “Any ideas, Neutria?”

  She tossed a picture at me, of the field we’d run through during our race with Kroshtuka. As we pictured it together, it became real in my mind. Now I had plenty of room—and no water.

  Stupid, slow human. We are not in the Real. Use your imagination.

  Right. I took the hint and constructed a lake in my head. This one looked a lot like the lake I’d spent a lot of time at when I was a kid, right down to the paddle boats and life vest shed. I walked down to the water’s edge and looked out over the lake. Then I cast the line out over the water, the golden hook shimmering in the summer sun high overhead. It landed in the lake with a loud plop of sound and only then did I wonder if I needed bait.

  Before Neutria could call me stupid again, I pictured a big, juicy worm writhing on the hook. And then I waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  “Come on, Kroshtuka.”

  “Devany, what are doing?”

  I turned, surprised. Kroshtuka stood smiling at me, dressed in one of Tom’s weekend outfits: polo shirt, khaki pants, loafers. “You aren’t Kroshtuka.”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m not your precious little hyena.”

  I blasted him with magic from the heart, knocking the Rider up and over the hills in the distance. Then the pole jerked in my hands, the rod almost yanked right out of my grip. “Neutri
a!”

  She poured her strength into me as I braced against the violent pulling.

  “I don’t think this is Kroshtuka,” I yelled, though I didn’t know at whom. My muscles shook as I held on, my feet slipping in the dirt. I took a few hop-skips when one particularly vicious tug almost upended me, then my heels caught in the dirt again. “Should I let it go?” And again, no answer. Who would answer?

  The lake transformed before me. From blue water to black sand. Two figures appeared. One was Kroshtuka, wrapped up tight in golden string. The other was a nightmare worm, all undulating muscle and gaping maw. The worm I’d pictured as bait, now grown to monstrous proportions. Arsinua’s warning, again, in my head: Don’t add anything extra. Ever. Too late. The worm was wrapped around Krosh’s body, pulling him in the other direction.

  “Let him go!” I spun, leaning my body away from Krosh now, fighting against the tugging to walk away from the lake. If my line held, if I could drag Krosh off that black sand, he’d be free. He would be free.

  There was a sudden thrum of power. Neutria stretched inside me, not enough to affect a change, but enough to enhance my muscles. They bulged, shook, dug in and I started to move. One step. Another. Another. Two back. Three forward. On and on it went, fighting the thing holding Krosh. I wanted to look back at him, to see if he was okay, but of course he wasn’t okay. Looking back would kill him. I’d lose my balance and he would be gone for good.

  We weren’t fighting for his body any more, that fucking worm and I. We were fighting for his life.

  I passed a tree, slid back by, passed it again. Step after miserable step, earning every inch. The muscles in my arms and legs burned. My fingers throbbed. I couldn’t do it much longer. Not even with Neutria’s strength, and the heart pumping magic in me. I would fall, and that would be it.

  A sob broke free from my chest. My foot slipped. I leaned into the pull, leaned, leaned, and the line went slack. I fell on my face, the reel jabbing painfully into my chest and knocking the breath right out of me. No. The line had broken. No. I was screaming as I spun around, shoving myself off the ground.

  Kroshtuka lay on the bank, one foot still on the black sand. I ran for him, yelling his name as the worm rushed toward us. “Get up! Get up!” I poured on the speed, praying my jelly-legs wouldn’t give way before I reached him. Dust sprayed as I fell to a stop by him, tearing a nail to the quick and beyond, as I grabbed him, yanking him frantically away from danger.

  The worm roared its rage at me, at us, just beyond its reach. Then the black turned to water again with an abrupt splash, and Krosh and I were alone.

  He was choking.

  Half-sobbing, half-angry, I swept his mouth with my finger, scooping out a glob of black slime. Then I moved around behind him, fisted my hands, and pumped at his diaphragm. I wasn’t even thinking anything anymore, just grimly determined I wouldn’t let him die. Not now. Not after all this.

  He puked. It coated my arms, stained his shirt, then he coughed and puked some more. I eyed the water, wondering if it would be safe to scoop some for a drink, and thought against it. I reminded myself that it was a Dream. “Wake up. Come on, come with me.”

  I transitioned out of the dream and found Krosh under the water, thrashing. I yanked him upright, pushing him over the side so I could get my arms around again to squeeze the water out of his lungs.

  He puked, water this time. A warm, sour smelling liquid, pretty much only bile and water because he hadn’t eaten since the Rider took him. I held his hair out of the way and crooned soft nothings to him until his body stopped heaving. Then I helped him the rest of the way out of the pool. We stumbled to a spot not far away, and I settled him between my legs, his back against my belly, mine back against the cave wall.

  He gasped, choked, coughed, again and again. When the coughing stopped, he still had a hitch in his breathing. But he said, “You came for me,” and I wrapped my arms around him, tight, fighting off the tears. He was back and alive and I wanted to shout with joy.

  ***

  One of the Elders finally came to our calls. Caterpillar Eyebrows, of course. The sight of Kroshtuka awake and draped over me got the old guy moving. He fetched a few younger men from the village and between them, they got Krosh carried to his hut. A short, squat man came in soon after, a bag at his side bulging with herbs, powders, and other mysterious oilskin packages. His face was too round to have wrinkles, but I guessed he was as old as Fisli and Lizzie.

  He hummed as he fussed over Krosh, mixing a blend of herbs in a small mortar, crushing them into a paste with his pestle. When finished, he scraped the contents into a cup of hot water and ordered Krosh to drink. It took him a few tries and a coughing fit before he could get the tea down his throat. Then Krosh lay back with a sigh that eased my fears. It also helped when his big hand found mine and squeezed gently.

  “The bad magic is still inside you. It needs dried up, like a festering wound needs drained and cleaned.” The man turned to me. “You are from the human world.”

  I nodded.

  “Take him there. It will be the best thing for his internal injuries—the stain and corruption on his soul.” He gathered his belongings, leaving behind a small bowl holding what looked like maple leaves, only bright purple. “Go. Soon.”

  My eyes cut to Kroshtuka as he struggled to sit up. When he wouldn’t stay prone, I gave up and helped him. “Yagani, I have been gone long enough from my people.”

  “And they are still living.”

  “I am the anchor.”

  Yagani waggled a fat finger at Kroshtuka. “There are other anchors.” When Kroshtuka opened his mouth to protest, the healer amended, “Not as strong as you but still. They are here. And they can work together if need be. You won’t be anything if you don’t take care of yourself. You won’t get better with the corruption inside you. For all that she yanked you free, it left its mark.”

  Kroshtuka didn’t argue. I wanted to ask what an anchor did—okay, I knew what an actual anchor did and could guess through symbolism—but I didn’t think it meant exactly what I thought it did. Yagani left us alone. I stretched out against him, the thick furs soft under us and tickling the back of my arm as I wriggled into him. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  His answer was to pull me tighter to him. We lay like that for a long while, listening to each other breathe. I’d forgotten how relaxing it was to be with him in the Real. Which brought up the Yagani’s orders and a dilemma. One I wasn’t sure how to bring up, because even in my head, it made me sound like an ass.

  I felt his laugh rumble through his body. “If you need to say something, go ahead.”

  “What are you, a mind reader?”

  “Never that, let’s hope. But I can read tension in the lines of your body. So tell me.”

  Deep breath. Where to start? “My daughter can access magic. And Liam’s been Dreaming.”

  His big hand, his fingers, didn’t stop moving along my back, rubbing, soothing, though he was the one who was weak and so recently rescued.

  “I think it’s partly because they were brought to Midia by the Theleoni. Being here woke up the magic inside them. But it should have faded away by now and instead, it looks like it’s on a steady course.” Or growing, but I had no evidence for that, just suspicion.

  “And the other part?”

  “Being around me maintains their abilities. Feeds them.”

  “Ah.”

  Understanding filled that single word. I relaxed again. “So I could take you to Earth with me. In fact,” I said, swallowing around the sudden pounding of my heart, “I think I would like to take you with me. And introduce you to everyone. But being around me won’t be good for you, not if the magic needs to burn away.” And there it was, out in the open. Not so hard after all, yet I couldn’t figure out where he would stay or how long or any of the other logistics. I rose from beside him to pace, needing to move my body to tame the itch inside that was my nerves.

  “You want to introduce me? Are you
sure?”

  No. “Yes.” I was sure I wanted him in my life. How I would talk to the kids about him I didn’t know. I didn’t want to hurt them. Their dad’s death was still a dark cloud over them and would be for a long time. And now the magic and Dreaming. Then Kroshtuka. “Yes.” I would hope that they could understand.

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “You’re too far away to kiss.”

  I chuckled. “I can’t sit when I’m worrying.” I slipped my hands into my pockets but didn’t go to him.

  He didn’t ask again, or insist. I loved how calm he was. He asked, “What took me, Devany? What invaded our Dreams?”

  “Something called a Rider. A parasite.” His face went grim. “It’s riding around in the head of someone who hates me. Dropped its potential in me, in you, in my son. We have until the next moon. Then the potential becomes another Rider. And so on.” Only now my potential was gone. Burned away by the goddess with the crazy pain in her eyes. “I don’t know if you still have potential inside you. I’m guessing if the Yagani sensed corruption, then you do. And being on Earth won’t fix that.”

  “Anyone who Dreams is in danger.”

  “I think so. If they are connected to me, at least. I think it has to work through those connections. I think it has to hate what its host hates.” I thought back to the epiphany I’d had while talking to Sephony.

  “You thought of someone.”

  “Yes.” The man who I suspected was molesting his little sister. The girl I’d failed to save. “I think it might be the leader of the Carnicus of Nightflowers.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “That one is dangerous.”

  “I know. And we have no idea where they might be.”

  “In the Wilds they could be anywhere. But if he has a parasite in him, he’s being driven toward civilization. The Rider will want to spread far and wide.”