Demons Forever (Peachville High Demons #6)

by Sarra Cannon

Light and power and love rushed through me. The ache of the wounds and broken bones disappeared and I felt my open flesh close in and heal over.

  I shook my head, finally understanding. "Wait," I said. I tried to sit up. To pull at his hands and make him stop. "Don't go."

  He smiled down at me. "It's the only way," he said. "My life for yours."

  My face crumpled and tears filled my eyes.

  "In my culture, an elder passes from this world at a moment of his own choosing," he said. "I choose this moment with pride, knowing your life is a worthy one. Knowing you are the true leader our people have been waiting for."

  His eyes began to close and his voice faded as his energy left his body.

  I rose as he fell. I lowered him gently onto the ground, then buried my face inside the folds of his uniform. Tears of gratitude and sorrow soaked into the golden fabric as he hugged me close.

  "I love you, Father," I said, sobs shaking my body as I felt his life slipping away.

  He struggled to reach something at his side, and I sat up and wiped my eyes. He lifted a silver sword from its sheath, then lay back against the ground, his breathing labored as he passed it into my trembling hands.

  The jewels embedded in the hilt shone in the light of the glimmering dome overhead.

  "My father's sword," he said. His voice was barely a whisper. In the tradition of his people, he emptied the last of his power into one of the stones. A final sacrifice. "Set them free."

  With one last exhale, his body went still.

  Slowly, a white mist lifted up and hovered over him. It sparkled with a radiant light.

  I lay the sword across my lap, and pressed my hands tight against my heart, the skin still warm from his healing power.

  I watched in awe as the mist shimmered and sparkled, filling with lights of every color imaginable as his spirit passed into the Afterworld.

  She Was Mine

  I knelt at my father's side, his body now just a shell, empty of power and spirit and life.

  I felt his energy pulsing in my veins. His sacrifice. His choice.

  I didn't know if I deserved this, but I was determined not to let his death be for nothing. Strength and sorrow coursed through me as I lifted my chin. I would end this now.

  I closed my eyes and let my breath and the beating of my heart become the only sounds I could hear. I felt my demon self rise to the surface. The normal panic tried to take hold, but I overpowered it, refusing to be afraid.

  For the first time, I rose above my fears and truly embraced the demon side of my power.

  I became my father's daughter, letting go and surrendering to the truth of who I really was.

  My body disappeared, shifting to white smoke, then taking form again, not as human, but demon. Mist swirled around me, a strange power lighting me up from the inside. I felt so alive, every sense heightened. Empowered.

  I stood and stepped through the shimmering dome my father had created, seeing the world as if for the first time. A light surrounded every living being. I could see energy vibrating all around me. And I could pull life from anything. Anyone.

  The battlefield had changed. The tide had turned as guards and citizens from the domed city joined the fight.

  Angry spells zoomed toward me, but I deflected them easily, their power nothing compared to what I had become.

  I inhaled, but instead of pulling in air, I pulled in life. I drew it from the roots deep inside the earth. From the trees that surrounded the battlefield.

  I sucked it from the marrow of the two guardians who came rushing toward me. Their beautiful white-blonde hair grew brittle and fell from their heads. Their skin wrinkled and decayed as they both sank to the ground, clutching their throats in agony. I used their life-force to fuel my own, then turned my eyes to Priestess Winter.

  Lightning cracked, striking the ground beside her. She jumped, fear flashing in her eyes as she stared at the lifeless bodies of her two most trusted guardians.

  I lifted my hand and the ground beneath her feet obeyed. It rippled up, knocking her down. Her knees hit hard and her eyes widened. She tried to stand, but the ground trembled again at my command, causing her to stumble and land face-first in the dirt.

  Before she could stand again, I gripped her with the force of my magic, lifting her with invisible hands. She struggled, kicking her legs in anger, but it was no use. She was mine.

  I opened my palm and called the silver sword to me. It rose from the ground and I closed my fist tight around the jeweled hilt. The stone in the center that held my father's power shone bright, illuminating the area around us.

  I approached the priestess, my heart beating in time with each footstep that carried me forward.

  I looked deep into her light blue eyes. "This is for every family you've destroyed," I said. "Every child whose parent you stole. Every dream you crushed beneath the boot of your greed."

  I gripped the sword tighter.

  "This is for my father."

  I thrust upward with all my strength, burying the sword deep in her belly.

  She curled inward, her hands scraping at the weapon as rust-colored blood oozed from her wound. Just as it did in Clement, her body began to age. Her hands grew old and her face grew wrinkled and dry. Her features changed as one glamour faded and the next appeared like layers being slowly peeled away.

  I lowered her to the ground and pulled my sword from her, knowing next time I would pierce her heart.

  You act as if Priestess Winter has a beating heart.

  The tiger witch's voice echoed in my memory and suddenly, something clicked deep in my mind. I turned my gaze on the priestess and searched her with my new demon eyes. I searched for her life-force. Her power.

  On the outside, she was a shell. Underneath her glamours, she was nothing more than a decaying mass of bone and dust where no life remained.

  But there, inside her chest, was the source of her prolonged life.

  Not a beating heart.

  A stone.

  She has a cold stone where her heart should be.

  The master stone, pulsing with the light of a thousand demons. Their stolen spirits trapped deep within, fueling her magic. Keeping her young.

  Her greatest secret.

  Her only weakness.

  I sunk the tip of my grandfather's sword into the dirt next to me, then raised my hands up. With all that I was, I thrust a smoky coil forward, deep into her chest. Through her glamoured skin. Through the decaying bones of her ribcage.

  Her eyes bulged and her body went rigid.

  I closed my smoky fist around the glowing stone, gripping it tight. With all my might, I pulled it from her body, ripping it from her chest.

  A scream of such terror tore from her mouth that the very ground beneath our feet shook. Everyone on the battlefield, both witch and demon, stopped to cover their ears, some falling to their knees in agony.

  The fighting stopped and all turned to see.

  Priestess Winter fell to the ground, scratching and clawing at the gaping hole in her chest. Without her battery of souls, she aged with horrifying speed. Her face wrinkled and changed, taking on the features of each of the futures she had sacrificed for her own evil purpose. One by one the glamours were stripped away, showing but a glimpse of each stolen life, until finally, her true face emerged. Old and withered. Paper thin.

  I shifted back to my human form, the glowing blue stone gripped tight in my hand. Dark red blood, old and lifeless, covered its surface. I watched, eyes wide, as the blood turned to dust, carried away by the wind.

  The armies on both sides became still, terror and awe etched on their faces as they witnessed the gruesome end of a woman who had been responsible for so much heartbreak and so much death.

  Priestess Winter curled her bony hands up toward the sky as if to ask for forgiveness. But no god would forgive her now. No magic would ever answer her commands again. Her skin shriveled and dried and turned to fine dust that blew around her like a tornado. The skeletal frame t
hat remained doubled over, desperate for the hope of one last breath, then finally collapsed into a pile of ancient bones.

  Free

  The master stone shook against my palm. The shimmering spirit of every demon she had trapped inside the stone came pouring out, flying toward the sky. A bright mist hovered in the air over the battlefield for a moment, then filled with color.

  I stared up at the beautiful sight, crying tears of joy as the demon souls left this world that had held them captive for so many years, and finally passed into the Afterworld.

  Those who remained on the battlefield stood in silence, open-mouthed, their war forgotten.

  I felt their eyes turn to me. Their prima. Their princess.

  I grasped the glowing blue stone within my hand, the day's victory not yet complete. I still had one final task.

  I turned and searched for familiar green eyes among the crowd, my heart leaping as I found them. The truth of this moment intensified as he crossed the barren field to stand by my side. We didn't say a word.

  There were no words strong enough to say it all.

  This was everything we'd been waiting for. Everything we'd hoped for.

  He offered his hand to me and together we descended into what was left of the ritual room. Rock and dirt covered the portal stone. Jackson lifted his free palm and the earth obeyed, clearing our way to the blue stone below.

  I raised the master stone over the portal and a bright blue light shot upward, the force of it nearly knocking me back.

  My heart beat fast as I opened my mouth to speak.

  "Unum mundum fit duo."

  The final words of the ritual echoed through the broken room as the master stone was pulled from my hand. It hovered in the light, glimmering with such intensity we had to shield our eyes. Jackson and I stepped backward as a rumbling sounded deep beneath our feet. My breath caught in my chest and my heart thundered against my ribcage.

  Hope burst through me as a tiny crack formed at the edge of the portal stone.

  Adrenaline rushed like a river in my veins as more cracks formed, separating the stone into a thousand pieces. The earth shook with a mighty force, the noise deafening. Jackson and I both lost our footing, tumbling to the ground. Holding tight to each other.

  Then, stillness.

  We held our breath, our eyes locked on the shattered pieces of the stone, our hands entwined. Time stood still.

  A second rumbling began deep inside the earth as one by one, demons poured fourth from the stone fragments. Spirits flew free, their slavery and torment ended. They rushed up into the air, unbound. Alive.

  Demons on the battlefield sank to one knee, bowing their heads in thankfulness and disbelief.

  Loved ones who recognized each other were reunited after decades of sorrow.

  Witches clutched their chests as their demon slaves were ripped from their bodies.

  And finally, once all the spirits linked to the witches of Peachville had been released, one final spirit flowed from the ruins of the ritual stone. I felt his essence cut from me, our connection severed for all eternity.

  Aerden rose up with a mighty roar, soaring high into the air. Arms stretched wide. Eyes lifted heavenward.

  Free.

  The Center

  Jackson and Aerden met in the center of the ritual circle.

  I stood back, giving them their moment together. My friends gathered around, our eyes filled with tears of joy. Mary Anne's arm circled around my waist. Essex stood to her right, his hands clasped tight as if in prayer. Angela lay her head on my shoulder and looped her arm in mine. Courtney stood just behind us, pressed close.

  I searched for Lea, finding her alone. She glanced my way and offered a single nod of her head, the corners of her mouth lifting in the smallest of smiles before she turned away, wiping a hand under her eyes.

  In the circle, the two brothers clasped hands. Then, after a hundred years of being apart, they pulled each other close, locked in an embrace.

  The Lines Between Good And Evil

  The ground ran red with the blood of witches from both sides of the fight. Many demons had also lost their lives that day, passing on to the Afterworld.

  Andros and other soldiers of the Resistance had taken on the task of separating the dead from the wounded, stacking bodies on one side of the field.

  The wounded from both sides had been taken to a temporary hospital in Ella Mae's old house behind Brighton Manor. Jackson and Angela healed anyone they could. Courtney helped recharge their power once it was used, so they could continue to heal long after they normally would have been spent.

  The rest of us walked the battlefield, separating the dead from those who needed care. Still, there were others who deserved a different fate.

  "What do we do with the witches who were fighting against us?" I asked. "Some of them no longer have the demon inside of them, but that doesn't mean they aren't still powerful. They still have their witch's powers, even if they aren't as strong as they used to be."

  "I say we throw them all in the dungeons in your father's castle," Mary Anne said. She placed her small hand on my arm and gave a sad smile. "Your castle."

  "I guess technically it belongs to both me and Angela," I said. It was something I hadn't really thought about. Someone would have to take over as Queen of the South. I wasn't sure I was ready for all that just yet.

  "They won't be able to cast their magic down there so it will keep everyone safe until we decide what to do with them," she said.

  The city guards who had been so faithful to my father and who had followed him here to this battlefield, had rounded up the evil witches, binding them in a temporary cell created by walls of dirt and stone pulled from the damaged ritual room.

  I looked over the faces of the women inside the structure. Sheriff Hollingsworth. Ella Mae. Several faces I recognized from Peachville and witches who must have come here with Priestess Winter. Honora and Selene were also among the crowd.

  "How did you know which ones to hold captive and who to let go?" I asked, knowing the lines between good and evil weren't always obvious.

  "Easy," Piotrek said, tapping a notebook he'd been keeping with all the names of his captives. He'd joined us here in the human world after he and his small group had killed all the hunters who attacked them in the shadow world. Including Lydia Ashworth. "We asked the demons who had been trapped inside them for so long. They were more than willing to tell us the true hearts of the women they lived inside."

  I narrowed my eyes, searching the faces again.

  "What about Laura Harris?" I asked. "And her daughter Brooke?"

  Piotrek lifted the page on his clipboard, searching for their names. "Laura Harris perished during the fight," he said. "Her daughter Brooke was released to go home. Her demon told us she'd never been happy about being a part of the Order of Shadows. That her real passion had been something else entirely."

  "Horses," I said with a sad smile.

  He eyed me questioningly and I waved him away, not wanting to hold up his work any longer.

  So in the end, Brooke hadn't been evil. I wasn't sure we'd ever really be friends or anything, but at least now we knew that deep down, she was a good person. She'd just been taken down the wrong path.

  Mayor Chen sat near the very back of the enclosure, her legs pulled tight to her chest. Her face streaming with tears.

  "Wait," I said.

  Piotrek turned back to me.

  "There was a girl," I said. "Lark Chen. Is she on the list?"

  He ran his hand down the list of names until he paused. "Lark Chen was killed," he said. "We found her body in the ritual room under a large pile of debris."

  My hand rose to my mouth and tears stung my eyes. I'd left her there, trapped inside a cage of stone. When the rest of the ceiling fell in during the battle, she must have been crushed underneath its weight.

  Even though the pain of her betrayal still stung, I was sorry she was gone. It would be a long time before I would really be able t
o come to terms with the fact that nothing we shared had ever been real. She'd been a Winter spy all along, her every smile a manipulation.

  "Thanks," I said to him, lifting my hand to wipe away the tears that had gathered on my cheek.

  Across the field, Caroline waved as she ran to meet me. She her arms around me. "It looks like you guys had a really hard time here," she said. She looked toward the bodies that still littered the area. "There are so many who didn't make it."

  I lowered my head. "There were great losses on both sides," I said. "But in the end it was worth it. The demons are free and Priestess Winter is gone."

  Eloise, her mother, stepped forward and placed her hand on my shoulder. "What you've done here is truly a miracle," she said. "Generations of women have been forced to be prima, or to join the Order, never able to follow their own dreams or find their own way in the world. Even the men we marry and home we live in is picked for us. There are thousands of prima families out there who are going to be anxious to find freedom of their own."

  She paused, staring down at her two daughters. "Even mine."

  I looked at the three women from Cypress, trying to imagine how they must be feeling after all this. The women in Peachville were free and we now had a way to free all of the blue demon gates, but what about the other colors of gates out there in the world. Gates like Cypress?

  "If you're willing, we can work together to find the master stone and the ring for the Cypress gate," I said. An emerald. But which of the four remaining sisters was in charge of the green gates? And would we be able to find her once she found out what we'd done to her sister?

  "We all want to help," Meredith said. I think it was the first time she'd spoken since she arrived.

  "You're sure you don't want to be prima?" I asked. When I first met her, she'd seemed to enjoy the prestige and attention that went along with the role.

  She shrugged. "I don't see why we can't still plan to have covens with primas and everything," she said. "We'll still all be able to cast some kinds of magic, even without the demons. We just need to start some new traditions."