by Vivian Wood
Ezra glared at him until Aragoth sat back down. Only then did he vanish his wings.
“Do not attempt to deceive me, Aragoth. I will rain down punishment on you like you have never witnessed.”
“N-no, of course not,” Aragoth mumbled.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Ezra demanded to know, reaching down to help Aurora to her feet. “Servant, bring our coats!”
“I thought to have a lackey bring you downstairs, I rarely venture into the dungeons,” Aragoth said, getting to his feet.
“I tire of your explanations, demon.”
“Right! Right,” Aragoth said, clearly shaken. “This way.”
Stepping over the sleepy and unconscious women around him, Aragoth led them back out of the chamber. The two toads scrambled to follow Aragoth, leaving Ezra and Aurora enough time to gather their coats from a confused-looking maid.
Taking a sharp right in the foyer, Aragoth led them down a set of winding steps. Down and down they went in a tight corkscrew, sconces dotting the walls when the light began to fail. Though the villa had only seemed a few stories tall, the stairs went down much deeper.
“The dungeons are a bit damp,” Aragoth called back.
Damp was an understatement, as Ezra followed him off the stairs and into a dank cavelike floor. Every surface was wet, dripping, water running in seemingly every direction. Ezra’s head nearly brushed the ceiling, the walls seeming far too close for Ezra’s comfort.
Ezra stopped for a moment to check on Aurora, who surprised him by reaching out and taking his hand as she followed him. She gave him a blank sort of look, like she wasn’t taking in any more shocks. Like she was just following along after him, doing what he did.
It was trust, almost… in a terrible way. Born of more of shock experience with Ezra. Not the way he wanted to earn her trust, that was certain.
Still, he held her hand tight as they followed Aragoth and the toads down the hallway. On the right, heavy iron doors began to appear at regular intervals. Aragoth didn’t seem hesitant, which made Ezra wonder just how often the demon came down here.
“Which prisoners do you need to see?” Aragoth asked, turning and stopping.
When the two frog demons ran into Aragoth, he hissed and kicked at them, making them scramble back in feat.
“The first is Jackson Vincent,” Ezra said, unflinching.
Aragoth paled to a pastel pink. “I— I’m afraid that is not possible.”
Ezra held out his hand, summoning his sword. The two frogs croaked and fought to get behind Aragoth, the Master swatting at his feebleminded servants for a moment.
“Grigori, I’m sure you understand…” Aragoth whined, wringing his hands.
“I understand nothing,” Ezra rumbled. “One touch of this sword, one word, you will no longer stand in my way.”
Aragoth looked as though he might faint. “This way, this way.”
He turned, shoving the two toads along. Ezra followed after a moment, his sword in one hand, Aurora clinging to the other. In a moment, Aragoth was growling at the toads, ordering them to open the door they stood before.
The toads produced a heavy set of keys, and soon the door swung open. Ezra glanced inside, saw a bony figure sleeping on a cot. Aside from a small table, an opium pipe, and a bucket in the corner, the room was empty but for the filthy straw on the floor.
He turned and glanced at Aurora, who stared inside, seemingly frozen.
“Will you not go in?” Aragoth said, eyes darting to and fro.
Ezra could tell that the little demon planned something malicious, it was easy enough to see.
“The lady needs to ask him a question first,” Ezra bluffed. In truth, he was not certain what Aurora would do or say.
“This is highly unusual,” Aragoth said. “Lucifer will hear about this, Fallen.”
“You want to threaten the big guy with the big sword right now, demon?”
Ezra glared at Aragoth until the little demon took another step back, holding his tongue. Ezra turned to Aurora.
“Go on,” he said, prying loose the death grip she had on his fingers. “Do what you need.”
“Am I meant to sit and wait?” Aragoth asked, outraged.
Ezra raised his sword threateningly, and Aragoth subsided once more. Ezra looked at Aurora, instantly feeling sympathy for her when he saw a tear slip down her cheek.
She looked to Ezra, giving her head a slow shake. “It can’t be him. He’s so thin…”
“Aurora,” Ezra said, trying to keep his tone gentle. “You’ve fought very hard to get here. Go inside, see for yourself.”
Her delicate throat worked as she held her tears back, but she nodded. Lifting her cloak and skirts, she stepped into the room and walked over to the body on the cot. Once she was close enough, she turned the body with a hand.
She flinched from the bony man, a low keening coming from her throat. Ezra lowered his sword a few inches, his gaze darting from Aurora to Aragoth. His position to defend her was weak right now, especially if her brother lashed out in some way.
Aurora brushed a tear from her face and rolled her brother over, biting her lip. The resemblance between Aurora and her brother was immediate; his red hair was darker than hers, but his wide, high cheekbones and full mouth marked them as relations without a shadow of a doubt.
She sat, leaning down, and murmured something to him. He stirred, opening brilliant blue eyes just a shade darker than Aurora’s. He blinked, then smiled. Whispered something back to her through chapped, cracked lips.
Aurora’s head bowed. She spoke to him again, and he gave a lazy shake of his head. He tried to rise, tried to reach for his opium pipe. Aurora stopped him, catching his hand and folding it in her own.
He struggled feebly, his mellow smile turning down at the corners. He said something angry, his teeth baring.
“I came for you,” Aurora said, a little louder.
“You never did know when to quit, Pen,” her brother lisped.
Aurora glanced away, her shoulders heaving once. She leaned down close and whispered something else to her brother, but Ezra missed it. Aragoth took a slow step backward, drawing Ezra’s attention.
“I swear I will run you through,” Ezra promised. “Honestly, I would enjoy it.”
Aragoth glared at him, but ceased his attempt at escape.
Back in the room, Aurora folded her brother’s hands against his chest and rose. The second she turned away, he was grasping about for the opium pipe, heedless of his sister’s presence.
Aurora let her tears fall, lifting her chin high as she returned to Ezra’s side. He didn’t have anything to say, there were no words to lend comfort in a moment like this.
“Would you like to do the honors?” he asked, turning the sword to Aurora.
“Will it work?” she asked softly.
“I have a feeling about it,” Ezra said. He leaned close. “The spell is just one word: vasto.”
Aurora swallowed, then took the sword from him, her fingers chilled where they touched Ezra’s. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head.
“I told my brother…” she said, surprising him by talking. “I told him I was here to save him, free him. He said he didn’t want to be freed.”
“I’m sorry, Aurora,” Ezra said, glancing at Aragoth. “Addicts rarely make the choices we want them to make.”
“I told him he is a slave,” she said, her cheeks damp with tears. “He doesn’t care. No… actually, he said, I am too far past that.”
She turned to Aragoth. “This is what you do? Feed off the souls of helpless addicts? Take away their free will, reduce them to nothing more than animals.”
“I do nothing,” Aragoth said, baring his teeth. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aurora shouted, “VASTO!”
She stepped forward, smoothly thrusting the sword into Aragoth’s chest. He didn’t have enough time to make a sound. He froze, dissolved into nothingness right before their eyes.<
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In the cell, Aurora’s brother froze and faded, his soul disintegrating and blowing away like so much dust. Aurora made another low sound, this one so mournful that it made Ezra’s gut twist.
Behind them, the two toad demons started to run for their lives.
“Leave them,” Ezra said, catching her wrist when she would have pursued the demons. “We have to go.”
“I must free all the slaves,” Aurora said, looking to him with vengeance shining bright in her eyes.
“There will be no one left to free,” Ezra said, carefully extracting his sword from her grip.
She stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean to say, everyone you saw above? They were tied to Aragoth, just as your brother was.”
Her eyes flashed. “What about the children?”
“Aurora…” Ezra said, shaking his head. “There’s no one left up there, except demons. And those demons will be hunting us, arriving any moment now.”
Her shoulders softened, then slumped. He took that as acceptance, or at least resignation.
Vanishing his sword, he pulled the piece of velvet cloth from his pocket and bared the silver jump key to her once more.
“On three,” he told her, and she nodded.
“One, two, three…” he said. Her fingers touched the key just before his.
Only… nothing happened.
Aurora’s eyes went wide. “What’s wrong with the key?”
Ezra touched it again. Nothing. “I don’t know, it’s not working. Maybe we have to be outside the gates for it to work?”
“Well… what do we do?” she asked.
The distant stamp of boots sounded, though he couldn’t tell exactly where they were coming from. “We run.”
Ezra grabbed Aurora’s hand and pulled her along, sprinting away from the way they’d entered the dungeons. It was a wild shot, but the soldiers would come down the easy way.
If there was an escape to be had, Ezra and Aurora had to find it the hard way. He let go of her hand and they ran flat-out down the long dungeon corridor. It twisted and turned any number of times.
Dim torches flickered here and there, leaving large pools of shadow in their wake. Rodents skittered across the floor, rocks and bones crunching under Ezra’s boots.
Wishing to Hell that he knew where he was going, Ezra skidded to a halt when he heard the clank of armor. He pulled Aurora against the wall, waiting…
Two soldiers sprang out at them, swords raised high. Aurora moved slowly, as if in a dream, so Ezra had to jump in and take out both men with two quick jabs.
Taking Aurora by the hand and keeping his sword up, he moved past the two bodies and down the corridor. Treading as quietly as possible, he listened, stopping every now and then when he heard movement.
They stumbled around the dungeons for what felt like ages, Ezra leading blindly until Aurora yanked him to a halt. He turned, giving her a wild look, but she put a finger to her lips, then pointed at her ear.
Listen, she motioned.
Cocking his head, he stood and obeyed. After a moment, he caught it — a distant trickle.
Running water, somewhere nearby. Water came in, water went out… and gave them a possible means of escape. Ezra crept down the hall, Aurora right on his heels.
Following the sound as it grew louder and louder, he made his way to a small room that held a ladder and a cistern. He turned and looked at Aurora, wondering if they should go up or down.
How far down could it be, if they were already in the dungeons?
Then again, this was a magical plane, who knew where it went.
Ezra silently pointed up, then down, then shrugged to show his indecision.
Aurora looked at him for a moment, then pointed down. Ezra would’ve loved another moment or two to think it over, but the clink of armor and telltale stamp of boots drove him onward.
The cistern was covered with a heavy piece of stone, which he wrenched off the top. There was another thin ladder leading down, little more than rickety pieces of metal clinging to the damp, circular stone walls.
Motioning to Aurora to hurry, he shooed her down first. He climbed down and dragged the lid after himself, plunging them fully into darkness.
He heard the stamp of boots over his head as he scrambled down after Aurora, trying his best not to step on her hands as they descended. With a scraping groan, the cover was pulled back.
Someone called for a torch, and light poured down the well.
“They’re here!” someone called.
“I can see the ground,” Aurora said, breathless.
Beside him, a dagger flew down, missing his shoulder by mere inches.
“Aurora… jump!” he cried.
She let go, and Ezra followed a moment after, both of them tumbling to the ground with a painful thump.
Ezra immediately grabbed her and rolled away, avoiding a hail of knives and swords. They both climbed to their feet, heading down another long tunnel that seemed to run the length of the building.
“Wait,” Aurora said, stopping. “Here, a door.”
Ezra stopped and came back, throwing himself against it.
“No good,” he said as his shoulder struck stone. “We need something we can break through.”
They took off down the dingy tunnel, running hard as they could.
“Wood!” Aurora said, pointing straight ahead.
Behind them, soldiers were dropping from the cistern one at a time, slow and loud in their heavy armor.
Aurora stumbled, but Ezra dragged her along. “Almost there.”
When they reached the end of the tunnel, gasping, Ezra released Aurora and ran straight for the wooden door, using his momentum. He crashed through it with ease, Aurora climbing out right after him.
They’d come out near the market, somehow. Everything was chaos in the market, demons panicking in reaction to the disappearance of the humans.
Aurora picked up her skirts as they both fled for their lives, Ezra knocking several nosy demons out of their way as they ran. The road sloped down and down, so steep that they might slip if they were not careful of every single footstep.
The entrance gate loomed, beckoning. A horse cart stood in their way, two scrawny demons slowly unloading heavy wooden barrels. There was no way around or over, they’d have to go under.
“Slide!” he called to Aurora.
She seemed to catch his meaning, for she dove headfirst under the team of horses, crawling out the other side. Ezra was a heartbeat behind.
By the time that they stepped outside the walls of Paradis, Ezra had the two keys in his hand again.
“What if they don’t work?” she asked, eyes wide.
“It’s all we’ve got,” he said. “Let’s go on three.”
She nodded. “One, two, three…”
His fingers touched the key a moment after hers. Everything went black, and Paradis fell away as the key sucked them down, down…
11
Aurora
Hours later, Aurora was still reeling from her visit to Paradis.
As soon as they landed back in the safe house, Aurora fled to the privacy of her guest room. Ripping away the lace and silk of her costume, she went straight for the shower. There, hiding behind clouds of steam and the quiet shhhhh of the running water, she was finally able to let herself go.
She cried. Knuckles pressed against her lips, eyes clenched shut, she leaned against the shower wall and bawled. The hot water rained down, comforting her as she wept.
When she was finally done, feeling drained and exhausted, she went through the motions of washing her hair and body. The bed beckoned to her, and so she left the shower in exchange for the comfort of a clean pair of pajamas and downy, soft pillows.
And there she stayed for the better part of two days. She slept, dreaming of the moment she saw Jackson’s half-starved form lying on that cot. Of the moment she plunged the sword into Aragoth’s body, knowing that it would mean the end of Jackson.
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sp; Most of all, she dreamed of the moment after that, when she turned from Aragoth’s dying breath to see Jackson. The way his body dissolved into thin air, his soul vanishing. And then, there was just… nothing.
After two years of running and hiding and plotting, she’d finally accomplished a small piece of her goal. She’d freed her brother’s soul, something she’d fantasized about since the moment of his death.
And yet, now she felt nothing.
Not nothing, exactly, so much as she felt very empty inside. Hollow, dark, echoing.
At the same time, she felt overfull. She felt her grief and mourning building and building inside her body until tears spilled down her cheeks, until guttural sounds of agony poured from her throat.
In the face of such overwhelming emotions, it was easier to sleep, to sink into darkness hoping against hope that she might not dream.
When she did not sleep, she tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling. Or sat at the window of her room, looking out into the backyard, though she hardly noticed the wild beauty of the gardens.
Instead she thought of Jackson, recalling moments from their childhood. Back before they’d realized the danger that lay in their bloodline, when they were naive and happy.
She crawled out of bed and dug through her backpack, fishing out the photo of her family. Careful to hold it by the edges, she propped it up on the pillow beside hers and climbed back into bed to stare at it.
In the photograph, twelve-year-old Aurora posed with Jackson, her mother and father standing behind their two children with happy smiles. Her father was the only non-Null in the family, but he’d died in a car accident only a year after the photo was taken.
After a while, Aurora flipped the photo face down, feeling the weight of her family staring back at her. She closed her eyes, sinking back into sleep.
Ezra knocked at the door every few hours, sometimes leaving a tray of food, sometimes remaining silent. She could almost feel his desperate worry through the door. In the quiet moments after he retreated from her door, she thought about Ezra.
