The Demon's Deal

by H. D. Gordon

“What the f—?”

  The words died in his throat. Something in me died, too. I’d never seen Thomas look so bad.

  His dark hair had grown longer than he usually kept it, along with the thick beard that covered his cheeks and chin. His clothes—an old t-shirt and jeans—were wrinkled, and looked as though he’d slept in them for several nights in a row. When he breathed out, just a short gasp, his breath smelled of alcohol. And his hazel eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were glazed over.

  They sparked as he took me in, though, his expression changing to that of a man that has seen a ghost.

  He raised a hand, reaching for me slowly, as if afraid that I might indeed be a spirit. Considering the fact that Thomas really could see the dead, I only held still so that he could confirm my reality.

  When his hand rested on my cheek, just his fingertips at first, and then his full, warm palm, a sound that was half gasp and half sob shook his wide chest.

  “How?” he managed, and then he fell to his knees before me.

  His arms went around my waist, his head buried in the fabric of my borrowed t-shirt.

  His sister’s words played through my head again. “I wished he’d never met you. I swore I hated you.”

  Just then, I was pretty sure I hated myself.

  Thomas remained kneeling before me, sobbing into my shirt, such a big and strong man, reduced to this, all at my hands.

  “Shh,” I told him. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  Thomas continued crying, because we both knew that was a lie.

  I took Thomas to my apartment.

  I cut his hair back to its usual length, short on the sides and a little longer on the top. I had him shave, and then we bathed, washing away that which could be flushed down a drain. We got dressed in clean clothes. He sat in the lone chair in my apartment, drinking water at my demand, while I ordered take-out.

  We ate in silence.

  By the time we were done, he was pretty much sober, and that was a good word to describe what I was feeling, too.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Thomas said, at last breaking the silence. He whispered the words, as if speaking them too loudly might cast some curse.

  I bit my lip, wrestling with the torment of emotions inside. “Well, here I am,” I said.

  He asked what happened. I told him.

  Then I asked the same.

  “I fell off the wagon,” he answered. “I took my first drink in over a year. I…I’d given up hope of finding you. After so many days….”

  I looked down at my hands, fighting the tears that tried to well in my eyes. Thomas, as always, sensed the directions of my thoughts.

  “Don’t do that, Aria,” he said gently. “Don’t take responsibility for my choices. My state is no one’s fault but my own.”

  This broke the dam that I’d constructed between the onslaught of emotions and the outside world. I covered my face with my hands, crying behind the curtain of my fingers.

  Thomas pulled me onto his lap. He rubbed my back as I cried.

  “I’m so scared,” I admitted between sobs. “I’m so God damned afraid.”

  “I know,” he mumbled. “So am I.”

  We sat with this for a while, letting the reality seep in.

  “Did you get the book translated?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, and his aura spiked with something that made me sit up a little straighter.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Is everyone okay?”

  It occurred to me just then that Cynthia Shay’s questions to me had all been the same. Where were my friends? Where were they taking the forbidden book? If the Peace Brokers had continued to ask me this information, it meant that they hadn’t been able to find the others.

  “They’re fine,” Thomas answered quickly. He lowered his voice, speaking beside my ear, so low that even with my super hearing, I had to listen carefully to make out the words. “The Brokers wouldn’t dare capture me, not with who I work for…. I had to pull a lot of strings, but I moved everyone else to a safe location. Once we make sure we don’t have a tail, I’ll take you to them.”

  A tail. That reminded me of something. When I’d been lying half dead in the trees, I’d thought that the reason Shay had let me go was because I was dead anyway. But now that I knew they hadn’t located my friends, I knew that wasn’t the only reason they’d let me live. They wanted me to lead them to my friends, and subsequently, the book.

  I hoped like hell that whatever that stupid text said, it was worth all of this. I’d given up six weeks for it, and relatively, that was a steep price.

  “Do you have your knife?” I asked.

  Thomas raised his brows. “Yes.”

  I blew out a breath and piled my hair into a bun on top of my head, twisting so that he could see the back of my neck. “There’s a tracker there,” I said. “Beneath the skin. I need you to cut it out.”

  “How do you know?”

  I only looked at him.

  “Right,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He went into his apartment and returned a moment later holding a multi-purpose knife. In his other hand was a bottle of whiskey. When I narrowed my eyes at him, he went to the sink and poured the remainder of the alcohol onto the sharp blade.

  Then he turned back to me. “Ready?” he asked.

  I tucked my chin to my chest to give better access to the back of my neck. “You might have to go kind of deep,” I said.

  I ground my teeth together as the tip of the blade bit into my skin, managed to keep from squirming as Thomas fished around, located the tracker, and finally, cut it out.

  The tiny chip clinked into the bowl Thomas had set beside us. I stared down at it.

  “Glad that’s done,” Thomas said.

  “Actually,” I said, flipping my arm over. “Not yet. There’s one more.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I can do this one myself. Just give me the knife.”

  Thomas shook his head and moved to sit beside me. “Where?” he asked.

  I pointed to a spot in the middle of my forearm. “Probably right about here.”

  “Fucking Peace Brokers,” he mumbled as he prepared to cut into my arm.

  “Fucking Peace Brokers,” I agreed.

  The bastards were nothing if not thorough.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eighteen days.

  That was what stood between me and an eternity as Saleos’ pet. Eighteen sunrises, and eighteen sunsets.

  It took some gymnastics to ensure that we were not followed to Thomas’s safe house, but we managed. When we pulled up to the enormous cabin deep in the woods, and I sensed the auras of all the people I loved inside, God help me, but I almost turned and ran in the other direction.

  I couldn’t face them, knowing it would be one of the last times. I didn’t think my heart could take it.

  The place was deep in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, several hours drive from Grant City, and utterly secluded from everything. The trees were tall and majestic, letting in shafts and dapples of golden sunlight, the temperature cooler in the shade for the season’s slow turn into winter. The ground was coated in pine needles, sandy earth that hid a multitude of tiny life forms. The quiet of the place was what struck me, as if the creatures of the forest were holding their breath as we passed.

  The cabin itself was two-stories, the logs a deep brown and the roof rustic red. It looked large enough to house a small battalion, and a curl of smoke drifted up from one of the three chimneys.

  Thomas offered a hand. I took it, and he led me inside.

  The inside was no less impressive than the out. The front doors let into a massive foyer, the ceiling high enough that I had to crane my neck back to see the hand-carved chandelier. A set of stairs to the right led up to a landing, the floor plan open and inviting.

  My eyes paused on that landing, because Samantha Shy was standing there. She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. Then she was flying down t
he stairs toward me, nearly tackling me to the floor.

  I caught her and laughed at the impressive strength she used in the embrace.

  “I thought you were gone forever,” she mumbled into my hair, tightening her hold. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  I repeated this same conversation with the others, noticing that their auras were not as dark and troubled as they had been before I’d been taken. It was as if in my absence, they’d somehow gained…hope. I didn’t know how to feel about this, so I tucked it away for later examination.

  Matt, Vivian, and Raven were there, and Remy would apparently be joining us soon. But only Nick didn’t appear amazed to see me. As we wandered over to the sitting area, where a fireplace bigger than me was currently crackling with flames, Nick gave my shoulder a little nudge.

  “Glad to see you,” he said.

  “But you don’t look surprised. Weren’t worried about me?” I joked.

  His next words were spoken low enough for only my Fae ears to catch. “I always worry about you, Aria,” he said. “But, no, I’m not surprised. You have a knack for wriggling out of tough situations.”

  I knew he meant it as a compliment, but that sterile room flashed through my head, the grin on Shay’s face as she’d tested my pain to its limits, along with my mind. Tough situation didn’t quite seem to cover it.

  I nodded, taking a seat between Thomas and Sam on the enormous couch while the others claimed spots nearby. For a few heartbeats, there was only the sound of the crackling fire.

  I cleared my throat. I knew they were all curious about what had happened to me, but I wasn’t ready to go into detail. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  So I said, “What did the book say?”

  Nick, who no doubt had the closest idea about what I’d been through these past few weeks, picked up the topic. “It was about the Relic, as we suspected, but way more than that. It tracked the Relic’s path throughout history, explained how the Peace Brokers and others have used it to gain and hold power.”

  Beside him, Vivian nodded. “Like, serious power, not just magic or parlor tricks. They’ve used it to control whole markets and create entire systems. Every time throughout the history of the realms, when the oppression of an entire people took place, the Relic was there. Every major war and change in tides. Every time.”

  I bit my lip, trying to absorb this. No wonder the Peace Brokers didn’t want us to have the book. No wonder it was forbidden.

  “Well, that sounds delightful,” I said.

  “It gets worse,” Sam mumbled.

  “Thousands of years ago, the Relic was stolen by a group of ambitious Seers,” Vivian continued. “When they took it from its spot in the deepest mountain of the Unclaimed Lands, they tipped the balance of the Realms. The first Great War broke out within a year, the death toll rising into the millions.”

  Thomas handed me a mug of steaming tea. I’d been so focused on Vivian’s words that I didn’t even see him retrieve it. I took the mug and wrapped my hands around it, hoping the warmth of it could chase away the cold that had seeped into my bones.

  “The Seers kept the Relic to themselves for hundreds of years, passing it down from generation to generation, ensuring that their descendants would receive all the privilege they’d used the Relic to cultivate.”

  “Milky skinned bastards,” Raven mumbled, pursing her red lips.

  “They started using the Relic as a bargaining chip,” Vivian said. “Making deals across the Realms, deciding who got to be in power and who did not, what they did with that power, how they maintained it. The bargains they made, the systems and institutions that were put into place as a result, are still in place today, still controlling whole populations, still deciding who gets to have, and who does not.”

  As she spoke, so much was flying through my head. As far back as any history I’d been taught, Seers had always been the most feared and revered of creatures. Others sought them out for answers, for council. I’d never considered why they, over every other type of creature there was in the Realms, were at the top of the food chain. I supposed I’d always assumed that it was the natural order of things. The idea that they had stolen that power, that it was not theirs to begin with, had never even crossed my mind.

  I swallowed a gulp of steaming tea and nodded for Vivian to continue.

  “Among the Wolves and Vampires, their descendants are the Pack Masters and kings. Among the magic users, they are the highborn. Among the Fae, they are the rulers. Among the humans, they are the billionaires and politicians.”

  “And the Peace Brokers?” I asked. My voice came out smaller than I’d intended, as if I didn’t really want to hear the answer. Some part of me already knew. Maybe had always known.

  It was Nick who answered. “The Peace Brokers are the ones who maintain the status quo, making sure the power remains with those who already have it.” He snorted. “They call it keeping the peace. I call it aiding the oppressors.”

  There was silence as I let this whirl around in my head. My group of friends seemed very small in that moment, in comparison to what we were facing.

  “So this Relic, if we can find it, we can set things to rights?”

  “It would be a start,” Vivian explained. “It would take time for the systems they’ve put in place to crumble, but as long as they have the Relic, we don’t even stand a chance.”

  I thought of the lab of young Halflings, of that sterile room and Cynthia Shay’s incessant smile. I thought of all the children, in all the realms, who’d suffered at the hands of those who’d stolen a power that was never meant to belong to them.

  “The Relic had a guardian,” Vivian continued, “A magical creature that was sworn to protect it at all costs. When the Relic went missing, the guardian was sentenced to wander endlessly without a physical form to anchor it, where only ghosts and spirits can walk. If one returns the Relic to the guardian, it will be freed from its prison, and will grant a single wish to the one who freed it. Any wish at all, and the guardian will grant it.”

  My mouth went dry. Everyone in the room understood the implication. One wish. Any wish. I understood now why there had been so much hope in my friends’ auras.

  “Where is it?” I asked. “How do we find it?”

  “It’s in the City of the Seers,” Remy said, standing in the front doorway, having just arrived. He placed a kiss on Raven’s cheek and ruffled my hair. “I knew I hadn’t seen the last of you,” he said.

  “The City of the Seers?” I repeated. “I thought that place was a myth. A fairytale.”

  “Says the fairy,” mumbled Raven.

  I shook my head. “Can we even get to it?”

  “You don’t go to it,” Remy answered. “It comes to you.”

  “Only Seers know how to enter the City without making some long and impossible journey first,” Vivian said.

  Thomas and I glanced at each other.

  “Then it’s a good thing we know a Seer.”

  It was a lot to digest.

  After the discussion, we ate and chatted about other things, as if all of us needed a reprieve from the crazy talk. When we were done, I snuck off for a walk in the woods, thinking that the greenery would help to clear my head.

  Thomas asked if I wanted company, and nodded in understanding when I told him I just needed a moment alone. He kissed my forehead as I stepped out the back door.

  “Be careful,” he said.

  I promised that I would.

  My boots crunched over the pine needles as I picked my way along a path running behind the cabin, lost in thought. I couldn’t seem to wrap my brain around any of it. The City of the Seers was a place that only existed in old stories, bedtime tales told to children in whispered tones. This Relic, whatever the hell it was, seemed like something no one had any business coming within a hundred miles of, and the idea that the Seers had stolen it so long ago was the cherry on top of the pie.

  Stealing from Seers, that was a suicide mission if I’d ever heard
one.

  How convenient that you’re going to die anyway, mumbled a voice in my head. I told that voice to shut right up.

  But it had a point. If I had to go down, it only made sense that I go down swinging.

  A snap to my left stopped me in thought and tracks. I turned toward the sound, realizing that I had wandered farther from the cabin than I’d intended. I scanned the undergrowth, but saw nothing amiss.

  I turned back the way I’d come, putting a little pep in my step. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting shadows in the forest. My senses told me there was nothing to be afraid of, but my intuition argued the opposite. I was so busy waiting for a sneak attack that I nearly tripped over the baby squirrel lying on the side of the path.

  I paused when I saw the tiny creature, crouching before it, noting the pain and panic in its aura. It stared up at me with wide black eyes. It scrambled to get away, and I saw then that its back legs were broken, as if it had fallen from one of the limbs above.

  I ignored the voice in my head that was mentioning rabies, and scooped up the poor creature, cupping it in the palms of my hands. Its aura spiked with fear, but faded quickly. I realized then it was not just its legs that were broken, but something was very wrong internally. It was clinging to life by a hair.

  I wished I could heal it, the way the trees had helped heal me, but that was not one of my gifts. I could take away some of the fear, though, some of the panic, and subsequently, some of the pain.

  Though I had plenty of my own to go around, I opened my sixth sense to the little guy, and absorbed the bad feelings, passing good ones onto it.

  It was a silly thing, maybe, but I held the squirrel until it breathed its last breath only a handful of minutes later, murmuring a song my mother used to sing me when I’d been just a little girl.

  When it slipped into the afterlife—or wherever little creatures such as this went when it was over—I placed him on a pile of leaves beneath the old pine, and went on my way.

  The only other forest animal I passed on my way back to the cabin was a large raven, its feathers so black it could be the night. As I looked, it seemed to look back at me, a marked intelligence in its onyx eyes. This reminded me of the homeless man in the park and the monkey in the forest on the island, so much so that I couldn’t be sure whether or not I had imagined it.