by Ella Summers
I’d given up on hiding my thoughts long ago. I didn’t have the energy left to do it. Most of the time, I was just thinking about enacting my revenge on the sadistic dark angel who was torturing me. He was free to read those thoughts all he wanted.
I decided I would eat. I needed my strength a lot more than I needed to piss him off. Besides, the biggest poisons were Nectar and Venom, and I’d already survived both.
“The food isn’t poisoned. In fact, it’s just what you need to survive the next fight,” said Soulslayer.
The fateful bell rang again, and the gates opened. Someone was pushed into the arena. A human. A bleeding human. That was the meal Soulslayer was offering me. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.
The door slammed shut, trapping the man in the arena. He was meant to tempt me. Like a shark smelling blood, my senses were heightened, my body alert. My body was screaming at me to drink from this poor person, to drain his blood to heal my wounds and feed my starving body.
But I was immortal. It took a lot more than an empty stomach to kill me. As painful as they were, I wouldn’t die from my injuries either. They just made me weak. I couldn’t feast on this innocent person just to alleviate my discomfort.
The man met my eyes, his own widening. He spun around, banging desperately on the door. He was completely terrified. It must have been all the blood splashed over me. I’m sure my hungry eyes weren’t helping either; I could feel them burning silver.
I put my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The man continued to claw at the door. He was scratching so hard that his fingernails were bleeding. The sharp tang of fresh blood only made it harder to resist the hunger.
You’re stronger than this, I told myself, swallowing hard. The burn in my eyes faded.
When it became clear I wasn’t going to tear the man’s throat open with my fangs and feast on his blood, Soulslayer frowned in agitation. He waved his hand, and the door slid open once more. The human bolted for the opening, but he didn’t make it far. A gigantic white furry bear-man beast charged out, meeting him halfway. Before I could blink, the monster grabbed the man and swallowed him whole. I stared at it in shocked outrage.
“You should have drunk from him when you had the chance,” Soulslayer chided me. “Now, it’s too late. Your stubbornness didn’t save him from death. All you did was deny yourself relief from the hunger.”
Smacking its lips, the monster lumbered toward me, obviously still hungry. Anger sparked in me as I looked at its furry face, stained crimson with blood. I grabbed one of the legs from the dead big bird. It was as hard as metal. I swung it at the bear-man, slashing across its tummy. I struck again. My rage propelled me, making me forget the pain—anger at the dark angel for doing this, for bringing innocents into this sick game of his. Colonel Fireswift was harmless compared to the darkly vicious Soulslayer.
I drove the metal leg through the beast’s heart like a long stake. The monster spluttered, then dropped dead to the ground. Yellow sand swirled, puffing up from the impact of the heavy body.
I glared up at the dark angel. My body pulsing with pain, I swore, “I will kill you.”
“Finally, we’re getting somewhere,” Soulslayer said with satisfaction.
Disgusted, I sat down on the sand. I was so done. I was not playing along anymore. I was tired of these games.
That ominous, hateful beep sounded again. The gates opened, releasing another monster. I kept my butt planted firmly on the ground.
“Get up,” Soulslayer commanded.
I didn’t move an inch, even as the monster slinked toward me. As sleek and black as a panther—at twice the size—the catlike beast moved slowly, taking its time to assess its prey.
“Get up,” Soulslayer said again.
Magic pulsed behind his voice, his siren’s song compelling me to obey. I let his magic bounce right off of me. Resisting him didn’t hurt half as much as I already did.
Surprise flashed in his eyes, but his smugness quickly returned. “You’re bluffing. You won’t let yourself die. If you’re dead, who will find your brother?”
“No, you’re bluffing,” I shot back. “You have no problems pushing me to the brink of death, but you won’t actually let me die. You’re too invested in gauging my magic to kill me.”
His smile faded, his bluff called. “You are every bit as repugnant as they say.”
“You bet I am.” Grinning made my cheekbones feel like they would crack apart, but I did it anyway.
A calculated smile curled Soulslayer’s lips. “If you don’t play along, I’ll just put your sweet little sisters into the arena. I wonder how much I have to hurt them before they scream.”
I jumped up, angry tears burning my eyes as I glared at the dark angel. “Before this is over, I will kill you,” I promised him again. Then I faced the monster.
26
Distinctly Medieval
The next time I woke up, I was not in the fighting arena. I didn’t smell the delicious, tempting magic of the yellow sand calling to me, and I wasn’t squinting under the glare of the blinding floodlights.
The lighting in this room was diffused. It sparkled softly against the black marble floors and the white marble that covered every wall. A symbol of intersecting circles sat at the center of the floor. It was a symbol I didn’t recognize.
The room was both opulent and sterile, like a hospital mixed with a bank. I tried to move, only to discover that I was chained to a wall. A basket of tools lay on a nearby table. It was filled with syringes, scissors, needles, forceps—and some things I didn’t even want to imagine what they did. One thing was clear, however: it was a torturer’s toolbox.
No, on second thought, this wasn’t a bank or a hospital. It was a five-star dungeon.
I might have been able to use some of the tools to free myself, but the basket was just out of reach. My magic was of no help either. It was a weak hum, fizzling in and out intermittently, blinking like a lightbulb that needed to be changed.
Across the room, Gin and Tessa were trapped in twin cells, each of my sisters tied to the wall beyond a glowing magic barrier. Their heads drooped to the side. I called out to them, but they didn’t wake up.
I tried to break free of my restraints. The chains, infused with powerful dark magic, burned like acid against my skin as I struggled. They didn’t budge at all.
I heard the sharp click of approaching footsteps, then a swoosh as the glass doors to the room slid open and Soulslayer stepped into the bright marble dungeon. Without saying a word to me, he roughly grabbed hold of my arm and stuck a needle in me. He took enough blood to fill a small vial, then brought it to a machine on the desk past the small table of torture tools. I’d seen Nerissa use these machines. They tested the magic in blood.
“Why am I here?”
As expected, he didn’t answer my question. Nothing new there.
As he inserted the blood sample into the machine, the glass doors opened once more. This time a woman entered the dungeon. Divinely beautiful, she wore her black, glossy hair long. It flowed past her waist like a curtain of black silk fluttering in the wind. Her eyes sparkled green-blue, the color of blue fir trees. She smelled like freshly-fallen pine needles, burning together with a potpourri of wood and metal, like a sleepy forest after a snowfall.
She wore a black leather uniform adorned with armor pieces that looked as much like jewelry as armor. Metal guards set with gemstones covered her forearms. She wore a matching headband. No, a diadem, a sign of power and sovereignty. There was magic in her gemstones, a potent magic that magnified her own. I could see it in the unearthly glow of the gems, the mesmerizing swirl in their jeweled depths, like an ancient story was playing out inside of them.
Her magic was dark and rich. I’d only ever felt such powerful magic in the presence of a god. She had to be a demon, the gods’ dark magic counterparts.
“Progress?” the demon asked Soulslayer.
I recognized that voice
. It was the one that had spoken to the dark angel in the arena.
“I’ve taken a sample of her blood. The machine is analyzing it now,” Soulslayer told her.
The beautiful demon came over to me, stopping at the wall I was chained to. “I am Sonja, Demon of the Dark Force, the Dark Lady of War, the Mistress of Telekinesis, and Queen of the Psychics,” she introduced herself.
Gods and demons always had so many titles.
But it was the title ‘Demon of the Dark Force’ that caught my attention most of all. The Dark Force was the demons’ version of the Legion of Angels. Sonja was the demon who ruled over the Dark Force. Her equivalent was Ronan, Lord of the Legion of Angels.
“So I’m in hell,” I said. “It’s cleaner than I expected.”
“The old stereotypes of hell are so very wrong. Fiery pits and burning volcanoes. Pillars of fire, sulfur and smoke.” Her nose crinkled up. “Nothing but fantastical lies spun by scared humans and encouraged by the reprehensible gods.”
“Reprehensible? And what is all of this? Kindness?
I couldn’t move my arms because they were bolted to the wall, but I moved my gaze from my chained limbs, to my sisters locked up in their cells.
“This is progress.” Pride rang in Sonja’s voice. It danced off every syllable.
My chains clinked as I pushed against them. “Your kind of progress is distinctly medieval.”
“You need to free your mind from these mortal misconceptions. They are so limiting. See things for what they truly are.”
“You have me chained to a wall,” I said drily. “There’s really no room for interpretation here.”
“Well, I can’t very well have you running away, now can I?”
She said it patiently, like she was speaking to a child. It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement of fact, plain and simple. Like one plus one is two. And that she was sick and tired of explaining it, thank-you-very-much.
“Your peacock-winged minion threw monster after monster at me for who knows how long,” I said. “You abducted my sisters and me. How am I supposed to see things how you do if you won’t even tell me why you took us? And how did you convince the Pioneers, who shun all divine intervention on Earth, to take your potion and do your bidding?”
I was going out on a limb here, guessing the demon had made the potion, but it was the best theory I had.
“Well, of course the Pioneers didn’t know they were working for me,” said Sonja, amused. “They purchased their superhuman potion from Balin.”
The dark angel had been masquerading as a mercenary. The spells in place that kept demons out of Earth had holes in them, areas weak enough for someone with less potent dark magic to get through. That’s how dark angels and other Dark Force soldiers made it to Earth.
“The Pioneers’ potion seems to defy magical laws,” I said, prompting her further.
“Not really.” Sonja’s laugh was deceptively sweet, a poison thorn hiding beneath a beautiful blossoming rose. “The key ingredient of the potion is my blood.”
I just let Sonja keep stroking her own ego. Immortals loved to show how clever they were. Usually, it was annoying, but right now Sonja’s ego was filling in the gaps, providing me with much-needed information.
“Just a drop of my blood was needed per vial, mixed with some other ingredients that mask my blood and make the magic die as soon as it leaves a human body or the safety of the magic containers. It is one of Valerian’s better ideas.”
Valerian, the Dark Lord of Witches, was another demon. He also happened to be Bella’s grandfather. So he and Sonja were allies, plotting to use the Pioneers to destroy the Legion. How many other demons were involved? Gods and demons generally formed alliances on a case-by-case basis—allies in one battle, enemies in another.
“But the potion isn’t a real magic pill,” I realized.
“Oh?” Her eyes twinkled.
“You were controlling them. As long as your blood was inside of them, you held the reins. The magic they used was you channeling your magic through them. There is no miracle magic potion, no new way to make supernatural soldiers without the consequences. The Pioneers never had any magic at all.”
“Do you think I’d actually give divine magic to a group like that?” Disgust rolled off her tongue.
Of course she wouldn’t. She’d just been using them. In their desperate quest for power, the Pioneers hadn’t even considered the reality that a potion like theirs shouldn’t be able to exist. Any witch could have told them that. They didn’t know they were drinking demon blood, or who’d really given it to them. They didn’t know that they were just Sonja’s tools. They only knew that the potion made them powerful—strong enough to rid the world of gods. And then after that, they’d move on to wiping out the demons. They would be the heroes who freed the Earth from its foreign invaders.
The Pioneers were such fools. And I’d been a fool to think that they were the real threat.
I looked at Soulslayer. “You were the shooter on the roof in Purgatory, the one who killed the werewolf mercenaries. You left the final werewolf alive on purpose.”
“Of course I did. It wouldn’t have taken much magic to make my bullet pierce the pitiful ice spell you’d cast around him.”
“But why? Why leave him alive when we would have gone after the prisoners anyway—” The answer hit me like a falling block of bricks. “You wanted us to think something fishy was going on, that this was more than just your everyday kidnapping. To draw me into your trap.”
“You’re starting to see things as they are,” said Sonja. “The hazy cloud of humanity is lifting from your eyes. That which limits you, constrains you, prevents you from reaching your true potential, is falling away.”
“And what is my potential? You obviously brought me here for my magic, just like my sisters.”
“I want to understand your magic and your sisters’ magic, to harness it to strengthen the Dark Force.”
“Fourteen years ago, you were the one who told the Rogue King that Hellfire was holding two girls with powerful otherworldly magic.”
“Yes.”
“When Hellfire attacked, Gin and Tessa escaped into the jungle,” I said, talking it through. “You sent in your soldiers. Those were the ‘black beasts’ my sisters spoke of, monsters even the warlords feared. Dark Force soldiers dressed in black leather, the most fearsome creatures in the whole jungle. You were going to capture my sisters for yourself, but Calli found them first. She brought them home, far away from there. Their memories wiped, their magic masked, there was no trace of them. You couldn’t find them.”
“Yes, for fourteen years the girls remained hidden, but I knew they would turn up eventually. Their magic was too extraordinary to stay secret.” She hit me with a smile as sweet as it was sharp. “But in the end, I found them because of you.”
I blinked in confusion.
“Leda, you really do draw far too much attention to yourself. You led me straight to your sisters.”
My empty stomach clenched up with guilt. My journey to gain the magic I needed to find Zane had put my sisters at risk. This was all my fault. I should have kept my head lower.
“Don’t fret. It was Callista Pierce’s failing as much as your own. Gin and Tessa are of ancient breeds. So few of them are left, and those that remain are scattered throughout the realms. In their natural, fully-powered state, they are too powerful to easily capture. But these two sweet girls can’t even use their powers. Your foster mother practically gift-wrapped them for me,” Sonja said with a smirk. “All I had to do was be patient for them to turn up again.”
Patience, the favorite immortal virtue.
“You’d be surprised. Some of my fellow demons are horribly impatient,” she said, reading my thoughts. “Every few years, they—they meaning usually Ava or Alessandro—try to launch yet another failed attempt at building up an army of supporters here on Earth, soldiers who will supposedly break the Legion and topple the gods.”
Li
ke the army the demons had been building last year, right around the time I’d joined the Legion. That grand army hadn’t made it very far.
Sonja made a derisive noise. “If it were that easy, we would have done it centuries ago. I’ve told them time and time again, we need to play the long game.”
Since stepping into the dungeon, Sonja had talked a lot, but she hadn’t really given much away, and I didn’t think that was an accident. I still had no idea what my sisters’ powers were. All I knew about the magic was it was rare. Sonja wanted to give their powers to the soldiers of her Dark Force—and, I was guessing, to the demons as well. Then the demons would possess powers the gods did not. Sonja believed that would give them the upper hand in this immortal war.
“Enough chitchat. Let’s begin.” Sonja waved over Soulslayer. “Give her the first dose.”
The dark angel grabbed my arm, his grip ironclad, unrelenting, cruel. He pricked me with a needle, injecting me with something.
It was Venom. I felt it immediately—the burn in my veins, like a firestorm consuming me, burning me alive. The tidal wave of magic crashed and rocked inside of me, pulling me under. My vision grew splotchy, clouded. I saw only fire.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.
“Your sisters have rare and powerful magic, but you, my dear, are something else altogether,” said Sonja. “You are one of a kind. The first. The only.”
As the demon and the dark angel closed in on me, I hardly felt the pricks of their needles. The tiny jabs were nothing compared to the inferno blazing inside of me.
“First what?!” I shouted. “Only what?!”
I had to keep them talking. And I had to stay conscious. The Venom was making my head fuzzy, groggy. The fire of dark magic was burning through what was left of my energy.
“Amazing.” Sonja’s voice snapped me awake.
I blinked and saw the demon sitting at the desk, looking at my blood through a microscope.
“The Venom is balancing against the Nectar inside of her,” she told Soulslayer. “They are becoming one, interlocked, cohesive. It’s remarkable.”
