by Lucy Auburn
I can't give up this easily though. Inevitable or not, I'm a stubborn bitch. I'll fight anyone and anything for my guys—including fate itself.
"Cheer up," Mateo says. "We get to slaughter a bunch of demons now."
Chapter 11
Goo. Ick. Gooey ick. That dry lint stuff that forms in your belly button and mixed with bits of skin. Toe jam. Pus.
What comes out of the demons as we cut them down is the most disgusting shit I've ever seen, felt, smelled, or—I shudder as a sploogey bit of it latches on near my mouth—tasted.
So of course, as he lobs grenades at them and shoots them in their various appendages, Mateo has a shit-eating grin on his face like he's winning rounds of Blackjack at a casino.
"The sound they make when they die is fucking mental!" He laughs, aims, shoots, laughs again. "I can't even tell what shape that thing was, but I think I shot it in the head."
"Talk less." Ezra swings his sword with an expression of grim determination—and disgust. "We're losing ground bit by bit. And Auerbach won't be able to keep up the wards for much longer."
He's right. We've only been fighting for a little over half an hour, letting down the wards in select places and facing whatever manages to slip through, but already our line of fighters is further back from the gates than where we started. At this rate—and the rate at which the demons are pouring into the gap where dead ones fall—they'll get past us and overwhelm the campus in under an hour.
All around me, shifters pounce. Lions, tigers, and bears—oh my, but it does nothing to change the overwhelming odds. Yohan throws balls of orange fire that tear holes in black-scaled demonic things. Headmaster Towers raises walls of red flame that incinerate everything they touch, scorching through the grass and trees of the campus as well as the demons.
Ezra and Sebastian cut them down with blades. Lynx takes bombs and grenades from Mateo, makes traps with rope in the trees, and blows holes in them ten feet wide. Mateo empties clip after clip. And I drive them back, throwing black-and-orange fire at them with one hand, reaching out with my Grim energy with the other and forcing them back, back, through the veil and to Hell.
Every once and a while I draw on the power of the bracelet on my elbow, trying to channel its strength, but my control is wobbly—nearly non-existent, to be honest. I mostly just manage to throw dragon fire towards the sky, with none of the finesse of my phoenix fire abilities.
But the gap in the open gate remains. They keep coming through. And while most of them are the lower level, horrible-looking things that resemble worms and spiders and other animals made into upside-down versions of themselves, some of the demons I spot in the crowd are nearly human. They walk on two legs and have two eyes. None are quite the upper level of my guys, but any minute now a demon with powers and intelligence will walk through, command the horde into something resembling an army, and turn the tide against us.
We can't keep this up.
I know that.
Just like I know what has to happen next.
That doesn't mean that I have to like it. I'm a stubborn bitch; I get used to having things a certain way. My foster mother Sara used to complain that if she served me special pancakes for breakfast one morning, I'd whine and complaining if I didn't get them the next. Every time something in my life is fantastic, I want everything to be that way—and when I get comfortable, like an old hunting dog laying down by the fire, I snap if you try to move me.
This, though, is the only thing I can think of to do next. The only thing that might work. And if I don't accept that now, it'll be too late when it does happen.
"Ezra!" I call out to him, then motion towards Lynx to finish setting his trap in the woods. "Mateo, throw that grenade and get over here. Sebastian—you too. I want to talk to you guys."
We fall back. Other fighters fill in the gaps they leave behind. I tell myself that my heart is beating fast because of adrenaline from the battle, and nothing more at all.
When they're surrounding me, silent and splattered with goo, I take a good look into each of their eyes. I think about everything we've shared—and how hard we've fought to stay together. We've been torn apart and brought back again. I lost them, and fought to return to them. So much has happened since that day on the cliffs. We're not done with our story just yet, though.
"What is it, Dani?" Mateo reloads his guns as he speaks to me. "Make it fast. I want to see how my nine millimeter does against that thing with a dozen arms—aw, Fisk got to it first." He cranes his neck towards the battlefield. "Well, there'll be another. I'm pretty sure its head is at the bottom end of its body."
I shudder, hating that this is my life now. Somewhere out there, in an alternate dimension, another Dani got a rich foster father and is spending her days on private planes getting manicures and making friends with models—though if her life is anything worth living, she has a Swordwielder, a Poisoner, a Choker and a Bomber at her side, just like me.
I'd like a life without demon goo, thanks very much.
"There's something we have to do if we're going to win this battle."
"There is," Ezra agrees gravely. "We have to close that door."
"Eventually," I shoot back, putting all the force of my words into it. "But not yet. You can't do it."
Sebastian raises his brows. "Will you order us not to, if it comes down to that?"
It better not come down to that. Not if I have anything to say with it. "I'm still not convinced that we can't just wait for an evolved enough demon to wriggle its way through that gate and slash the thing's wrists to get it to close. But no, there's something else we have to do. Someone we need to talk to who I think may be of help to us if it... if it comes to the worst. Which I want to prepare for." I swallow, forcing myself to blink back the tears, to choke down the grief. "Just in case."
Lynx figures it out first. "Malavic. You want to summon him, and figure out how he got his memories back after dying. So that if we have to die too, we can do the same thing."
"Exactly." My stomach twists, because I know they aren't going to like this, so I quickly say, "Look, I know it's not a great plan, summoning the trickiest, least controllable demon out there, with no way to make him give us what we want. But if it's the only way—"
"Do it," Sebastian says, his voice surprisingly firm. "Just make sure you've got that bracelet on your wrist. If you figure out how to use all its power at once, even Malavic would have to fall in line."
I snort at that thought. The demon I met didn't seem like the type to bend knee so easily. Then again, no one in the world has the power of all seven immortals, and I'm supposed to at least use it against this demonic threat until we figure out what else it's good for. If Malavic can help us close the gate some other way, or tell me how to keep my quartet from losing everything, technically that counts.
"I'm glad you guys aren't going to stop me. I need to find out more information from him." I meet all their gazes one by one. "I hope you'll wait to do anything rash until after I'm done. But while I'm summoning him..."
"We need to beat back the demonic horde," Ezra says, understanding quickly. "We'll do whatever it takes. But Dani... don't give him anything valuable."
Lynx adds, "Including knowledge. You never know what a demon will do with that." He winks at me. "Just saying."
Leaning forward, my book nerd of a demon kisses me quickly on the lips. Mateo presses his mouth to my forehead, and Ezra squeezes my arm while giving me a soft kiss on the mouth. Sebastian just stares at me, blue eyes raw and wanting, then nods sharply and turns back to battle, his blood and goo-slicked blades at the ready.
I'm doing this for them, I remind myself, despite the shiver that goes down my back at the thought of summoning Malavic again. I can do it. I can figure out some way to—well, if not control him, cajole him.
I just hope that I have something he wants.
Preferably something I can afford to part with.
Somehow I doubt he'll settle for another one of my lives. Not that
I can part with one—I'm running very low now, for a phoenix who started with twelve to begin with. I should probably save at least a handful for whatever is bound to come next. And skydiving—I've always wanted to try that.
Thinking about all the various, horrifying, terrible things Malavic might want, I draw his summoning circle onto the ground in white chalk. I'm careful to close the circle entirely—any gap in the line is something he could take advantage of if he wanted to, and based on the ancient hunger I saw in his eyes when I summoned him last, taking advantage of weaknesses is in his nature.
Without him, I wouldn't have found Gaugin's bracelet. I have its power now, though, which means he can't railroad me completely. And just because I don't know entirely how to use that power doesn't mean he has to know that. I'm in charge this time.
Maybe. Mostly. I hope.
Taking a deep breath, I stand several inches away from the edge of the summoning circle, mindful of my feet this time, and say the incantation that will summon him.
Then I wait. I know Malavic has the option to refuse my summoning. He's a free demon, after all. No bonds, no contracts, no obligation to answer a Grim's call. If he wants to he can pop into his summoning circle, take a long piss on it, then pop back out again.
I wouldn't put it past him. But I have the feeling he's going to come. His life—or afterlife, as the case may be—is pretty boring, after all. Answering my summons is the most adventure he'll get all year. And he has to be wondering why I'm calling to him again so soon after last time, when he gave me the object that I sought but not the answers I desired.
At least, not in the way that I wanted.
With demons there's always a catch.
Even my guys, as much as I love them, have their catches. Their secrets. Mysterious pasts and sins they're serving time for. Whatever they've done, whoever they were, I may never know. And it grieves me to admit it.
After what feels like a whole minute, I smell a whiff of sulphur in the air. Feel the pressure around me change. Then, with a blast of smoke and a glow of otherworldly power, the demon himself pops into view, standing on the white symbol that represents his true name.
I raise my brows at the sight of him. "Decided to get a makeover, did you?"
"Apparently I was out of fashion." He grimaces, running a hand through his dark, short-cropped hair with a peeved expression. "The modern era is exhausting. A new look every decade? Spare me. And now I have no use for all that hairspray. But at least I don't look like a fool anymore."
He does seem more intimidating now that he's not wearing his throwback '80s classic-rock-meets-hip-hop clothing. His jeans are a normal, medium wash that actually fits, his shirt a black silk button up for flare, and he's no longer wearing eyeliner or teasing his hair above his head. Without all the retro passé bullshit getting in the way, Malavic's power shines through that much brighter, his eyes glowing golden, his presence heavy in the air with ancient magic.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up when he looks at me, and I can't help but remember: he took one of my lives. He burned my body. While he claimed it was to unite my two magical selves, Grim and phoenix, I have no doubt that there was an advantage for him as well. Maybe he just liked the taste of my life. Or maybe, as an ancient, powerful, free demon, he's capable of taking my life and using it for nefarious purposes.
"You seem... different." He cocks his head, narrowing his glowing golden eyes at me. In an almost accusatory voice he says, "You let someone perform magic on you. Permanent magic. The kind that changes the bond between a Black Phoenix and her demons."
"It was necessary. I had to kill an immortal being who controlled a dangerous poltergeist... long story. Actually, not that long: the bracelet came with a few side projects. But now it's fully powered up." I raise my arm so he can see it in all its glory. "Now so wimpy anymore."
"I can see that. The thing glows... but not as much as you. Pulling your spirit bond with your demons into the mortal realm has changed the energy of your very soul." Looking me up and down with a slow, lascivious gaze that would get him killed if my quartet were standing next to me, he smacks his lips. "It's positively delicious."
"Thanks? But gross. I'm not here for you to leer at me like an old man at a singles bar. We have business to attend to. I need answers."
"Somehow I thought you'd come back for more." Prowling to the edge of his summoning circle, he smirks at me, and I deliberately plant my feet, refusing to lean back or give ground. "Let me guess, you didn't like what I told you about the secret to my freedom."
"It wasn't as satisfying of an answer as I'd hoped, but you already know that."
I stare him down, swallowing my fear, ignoring the churning of my stomach at being so close to such an ancient and powerful demon. The last time I summoned him, he held me against his chest and slashed my throat with a knife. I was reborn in the ashes of my own body, burned in hellfire.
It's hard not to be intimidated.
But I've killed a soulless immortal since then, and have his power running through a thin circlet around my elbow, tied to the blood I share with Gaugin through our shitheel of a father. I won't let myself be intimidated. The dragon wouldn't, after all, and his spirit lives on with me, in its own way.
"Fascinating." Malavic narrows his eyes in my direction, studying my face intently. "You've traveled through the spirit realm since I last saw you, and taken some of its power back with you. I can see it in those dark eyes of yours."
"My eyes are hazel," I tell him, stiffening at the memory of the black inkiness of my gaze after I awoke in ashes at his feet. "Let's get this over with: tell me what you want for the information you have about freeing yourself from your contract. Not that useless bullshit about coming back to life with your memories intact—I want to know what you did, in agonizing detail, told in the most literal way possible. You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something you want from me. So spill, demon, or stop wasting my time."
"Feisty." His smirk is somehow lustful and condescending at the same time. "It's such a shame you're already taken. I love a little spirit in my women."
I hold my tongue and barely managed to keep myself from incinerating him. I need the knowledge he possesses. "Just tell me what you want already."
"Very well." He leans as close to me as he can, the barrier of the summoning circle keeping him from touching me. "I've tasted your life, little phoenix, and how delicious it was. What I want now is a promise from you: that you'll do me a favor."
I snort. "Really? You think I'm stupid? I'm not agreeing to something so vague."
"If you want me to be specific, I suppose that I can... how unfortunate that we have to do it standing in the woods like this, without the ability to seal it with a handshake or something more. I always preferred to conduct my business negotiations over tea by a warm fire."
"You'll deal," I tell him, swallowing all the insults and anger that I want to shoot in his direction. "This favor—tell me what you want, in very exact terms, and maybe I'll consider it."
"How stubbornly short-sighted of you. I find, personally, that I prefer when things are vague." He smirks. "It leaves so much room for the imagination. Since you insist, however... the favor I want from you is simple: I'd like you to bring me to Hell."
I raise my brows at him. "Can't you just go on your own? Also—what makes you think I can get you to Hell?"
"First question: I can't go to Hell, because it's another realm, and I can only move through realms when summoned. Does that surprise you? Purgatory is terribly boring, I have to admit. I thought when I erased my contract that I'd be as free as I wanted to be, but my soul has no true home, so I'm stuck in the place where the unsettled go. While my corner of Purgatory is as nice as I can make it... I'd like to go other places."
"I don't know how bringing you to Hell would help with that. And again: I don't know how I'd get you there."
"Oh, you'll get me there," he says vaguely. "Very soon, in fact. As far as what I want to do in He
ll... let that be between me and my maker."
"Sounds like a trick."
"How could it be?" Malavic raises his brows at me. "Hell is where demons like me belong, after all. It's where we're forged. Putting me back there doesn't put anyone at risk." I frown at him, and he sighs. "Very well, I can tell you want some more info. So I'll simply explain: I have some unfinished business in the depths of Hell. Satisfy you?"
It doesn't, but I need his information, and his request is simple, as far as things go. The only thing is, "I can try, but I have no idea how to get you down there."
"Leave that part to me. When I tell you what you want to know, well, let's just say it'll all become very clear. So bring an ear close, darling phoenix, and all the secrets of the afterlife will be yours."
I grumble, "It seems like you could just tell me from there."
But because he clearly wants to be dramatic, and I can't control him or change his mind, I give in to Malavic's request. Glancing down carefully at the white chalk line, I step forward until my toes are the merest whisper away from the edges of the circle that holds him in. Then I lean forward, tucking my hair behind my ear, and wait for him to reveal all to me.
"The secret, my dearest, is simple: in order to be reborn free, a demon must die... by facing himself in Hell, instead of running away. All his misdeeds. All his old memories. Every sin, every person hurt, all the lives lost—everything that got his contract forged." Malavic chuckles, low and dark. "The path is twisted, and I have no doubt you'll want to go down it with your men. But trust that what I tell you is true: if you go to Hell with your demons, you're unlikely to ever get out. And what you find there may sear its way onto your soul forever, dragging you down, denying you the very afterlife you seek.
"Lost souls who make their way to Hell rarely find peace in the Great Beyond. So choose wisely. If you want your men to be free, you must risk everything—and you may not ever leave the fiery depths of the pit of unending torture. Just think: the hordes of slathering demons you face are the very least of Hell's horrors. Tread lightly, little phoenix."
