“That’s a girl,” Oxivius winked up at her with a knowing grin. “Let him feel them all, love.”
Xlina let her heart soar as the fears inside diminished. The Prince of Nightmares wanted to claim his Baku, then so be it. He would face them all. She smiled down at Oxivius and reached deep, feeling the bonds she shared.
“You were alone... lost!” Phobetor howled in rage.
“I was once.” Xlina opened her eyes, quelling her nightmare magic as the flames died around her and she was free floating in the air unbound by the nightmare realm. “But I found some friends along the way, I carry them here in my heart.”
The roar of a bear filled the room as Lexxes formed before Phobetor. Her dream magic lined her in a blue light that stretched up into the giant form of a grizzly bear. It grew to Phobetor’s size and lashed out with its forepaws, drawing crimson lines on Phobetor’s chest and torso. He called out for the nightmares of the realm to aid him, but nothing came. The winged creature retreated to the ceiling.
“There are no fears to be feeding your beasties!” Oxivius called above the roar of the spirit bear. He drew a sigil in the air and a cloud of black moved forward, pink tendrils grabbing at the Prince of Nightmares and pulling him toward the inky cloud.
“You’ll not have the runt,” Arrivan appeared next to Oxivius, drawing a sigil in the air. Phobetor reached for Xlina, attempting to pluck the troublesome Baku from the air, but Arrivan’s spell took hold and thorns grew from her flesh, stabbing and piercing Phobetor’s hand. He recoiled, pulling his injured limb back.
“A fine bit of Druidry,” Owen chimed in, scythe in hand slashing at the ankles of the massive demon. Phobetor was overwhelmed. A host of dream images filled the room, pelting him with fire and acid. Webbing and cutting cleavers. Scythes and claws.
“It was a mistake, coming here, Phobetor.” Xlina hovered in the air before him, the dream realm responding to her subconscious call. She trembled no more, her fear abated, robbing the being of its hold over her. “It was a mistake to think that any of those things defined who I am. Look around monster and see Xlina Dar’Karrow, see what your Baku has brought home.”
“I got your fears right here,” Hawke appeared beside Oxivius, service revolver in hand as he unleashed a hail of bullets up at the towering primordial.
“A creature of shadows, how droll,” Tamera called from beside Hawke, bending and twisting the shadows from the walls into scythes of darkness that shot into Phobetor’s back, drawing another wail of anguish.
Xlina floated down to stand between Oxivius and Arrivan. They were manifestations, she knew that. They were the embodiment of her heart. She called to them all. Extending her magic. Feeling the dream realm respond to her call.
“I’ve enjoyed my stay, Phobetor,” Xlina called, drawing her allies about her like a shield. Oxivius, Arrivan, Amber, Burglecut, Penny, Owen, Tamera, and even the good detective Hawke surrounded her. Her hopes and dreams made real her heart flowed as she embraced her Baku spirit.
“No! No! Impossible!” Phobetor reeled back on his heels, drawing close to his throne of shadow.
“I have something for you, Prince of Nightmares.” Xlina brimmed with confidence. “A little something from the earth realm I found lost in an alley. Perhaps it will brighten your day.”
She reached inside, remembering back to the alley. To the mugger. The man she had encountered bereft and lost in his own waking nightmare. She focused on the glimmer, the small beacon of light she had seen. As she had called on the memory of his fears against Ertigan in the dream realm, she now called on the memory of his hope. What had been a mere glimmer of light extended before her in all its panoramic glory. The room filled with light, chasing away the nightmare creatures and burning Phobetor’s skin. He screamed in agony, withering in the bright light emanating from her.
“Bloody marvelous, love.” Oxivius whispered from next to her.
“It’s a human thing we call hope. You can shine it up and place it on your mantle and any time you think of coming for me... you can look at it and remember this moment. When a human’s hope cut through the deepest darkest fears, you had to offer.”
She stepped forward, awash in the life he had dreamed of. She added her own hopes to the well. Her dreams of Amber and lying in the loft of Heart’s Hearth looking at the ceiling fan spin while giggling and trading thoughts. She smiled, feeling the warmth and the white light surged forth, blinding the prince and scalding his skin. She pushed her hopes and dreams through her. The manifestation of her hope a blinding ray of light that chased the darkness from the very corners of the room. With a final push, she lifted her hand and stretched her fingers toward the throne of shadows. The light of her hopes shattered the throne, sending an explosion of shadowy fragments cascading through the room. Phobetor turned and melted away into nothingness.
“It’s over, it’s finally over,” Amber rushed to her, her tanned skin and blonde hair as perfect as Xlina remembered. She threw her arms around her and Xlina embraced her warmly.
“Bravo, love.” Oxivius’ voice echoed in her ears, and she was once more in the dark waters of the cauldron, but she was not alone. She held Amber, naked but alive, in her arms. Her lungs screamed for air, and she burst to the surface, emerging from the dark depths, carrying an unconscious and prone Amber.
“Welcome back,” Ammit stood aglow in a pale light, welcoming her with arms spread wide.
“Ammit?” Xlina splashed through the water, returning to the rocky cavern.
“You survived and have been given a magnificent gift,” Ammit extended a hand, stroking Amber’s unconscious head. “The return to life is daunting, she’ll not remember her time as a spirit.”
“I resurrected her? She is whole?”
“The one you call Amber, lives once more thanks to you,” Ammit smiled warmly, “Treat this gift for what it is. Few get second chances at life.”
“Thank you,” Xlina brimmed with joy. “How do I get home?”
“Well, us ancient deities can do more than smite young Baku.”
“We are ready if you could send us back to the door? My friends are waiting.” Xlina asked timidly.
“Of course,” Ammit waved a hand and a door with a burning rose appeared in the wall. “Someone is looking out for you Baku.”
Xlina bowed her head in respect and turned to the door, eager to return to her friends. She quickly pushed through and disappeared into the light beyond.
“You helped her gardener,” Ammit said, as Xlina disappeared into the light.
“She needed the push,” Weh answered with a wry smile.
“What happened to letting the blossom bloom on its own?” Ammit turned on the old man with a wary eye.
“Sometimes you need to weed the garden as well,” Weh answered, fading into nothingness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aftermath
Xlina paced the halls of Maine Medical Center anxiously. Her heeled boots clacking loudly on the laminated floor as she let a deep sigh loose. She folded her hands across her chest and blew an errant strand of brown hair from her face.
“That’s not helping, love.” Oxivius sat in a waiting area, softly absent thumbing through a magazine. He looked up at her with a grin. “She’ll be fine.”
“I know... It’s just...”
“They are just checking her out,” Oxivius pushed his red tinted glassed up on his nose. His skin had fully healed, and he sat once more prim and proper in a fashionable black shirt with a deep red jacket.
“Fine, put the book down and say something. Anything.” Xlina relented, crossing the hall into the small waiting room and collapsing into a soft leather chair opposite the necromancer.
“What would you have me say, love? Nice weather we are having?” Oxivius laughed at his own joke, folding the magazine closed and placing it on his lap.
“It’s been three days since... you know, the whole resurrection thing. How do you know today is the day she’ll wake up?”
“Oh, call it a hunch,” Oxivius grinned, looking at the stand in the corner littered with books and magazine. A black bound bible sat on top with an emblazoned copper cross on the cover. “If history repeats at least.”
“Whatever, don’t tell me.” Xlina crossed her arms over her chest and sunk low into the chair. “How did you survive the blast in hell, anyway? Seeing as we have time, you owe me that explanation at the very least.”
“I tucked my soul into a phylactery before we left. One can never be too careful in the infernal realms, I always say.”
“No way,” Xlina smirked, “I don’t believe it.”
“Yes, the lack of my soul allowed the fragments in my flesh to become painfully active as the vied for control over my empty vessel.”
“But your magic...” Xlina cocker her head, “How did you? I mean without your soul.”
“Necromancy is fueled by burning souls, it doesn’t need to be my soul.” Oxivius grinned in response.
“Okay, but... that whole time?”
“Do you remember the river of blood?” Oxivius asked, leaning forward.
“Do I? It was terrible. An endless loop of all the violence in my life. I was paralyzed. My soul literally boiled.”
“I pulled you out.” Oxivius grinned. “I was unaffected by the waters because my soul was tucked safely away in the mausoleum.”
Xlina slapped him hard on the shoulder with a stiff backhand. He winced, rubbing his arm and raising his hands defensively.
“What was that for?”
“For pushing me into the river of blood, you jerk,” Xlina smiled, settling back down in her seat.
“Bloody hell, love.”
“If you survived the blast, why didn’t you come to me sooner? Why wait?” Xlina thumbed the stitches on the arm of her chair, pulling on a loose string.
“My body reformed in the glass coffin,” Oxivius discarded the magazine onto a nearby end table. Xlina smirked, noticing the Better Homes and Gardens title on the cover and finding the entire image amusing. “Burned to a crisp, the coffin reached out, leeching the life from the Necropolis to mend my broken body.”
“There is barely any life in that place,” Xlina raised a brow, looking at the necromancer with soft brown eyes. “You must have been in agony.”
“You are quite correct until that is the Faithful appeared with their masses. Then there was plenty of life to borrow to heal my wounds.”
Xlina smiled, seeing the pieces fall together perfectly. She shook her head, amazed at the Necromancer’s ability to be ten steps ahead of everyone else.
“That’s quite a story,” Xlina mused. “Maybe I should write a book about it. Give up being a bouncer at Pandora’s for a nice honest living.”
“Nah, no one would believe it,” Oxivius chuckled leaned close once more. “My turn... what did you see down there... in the Well of Souls?”
“I don’t know, really. There were so many illusions and tests. I can’t say what was real and what was manifestation.”
“Come, but you had to see something,” Oxivius pried, edging closer on his seat. “Anything, any remnant of... you know who?”
“Who?”
“The messiah?” Oxivius mouthed softly, “Come on, tell me... was it real?”
“You think...” Xlina stared at the black trimmed bible on the end table, “Seriously? Him?”
“How else?” Oxivius shrugged excitedly.
“No, no sign,” Xlina shrugged. “No great spiritual enlightenment. Sorry Ox.”
“Bugger that.” Oxivius slammed a fist into the arm of his chair. “I thought for certain.”
“I saw a crocodile woman who called herself Ammit,” Xlina answered plainly, “As I told you when I emerged from the door. Below that level I met Efnysien, an aged and decrepit old man.”
“And in the Cauldron, Phobetor Prince of Nightmare whom you bested with dream magic.” Oxivius huffed, sinking back in his chair. “It still feels like I missed out on an epic adventure.”
“If you’re so curious, why don’t you enter the door and see for yourself?” Xlina leaned back in her chair.
“I can’t. The spell was one use only. It will take centuries to gather those ingredients again. Assuming, of course, some of them still exist at all.”
“No more do overs then,” Xlina asked, settling down in the fluffy chair. “Amber is the only one that comes back?”
“Bloody right, love,” Oxivius sighed heavily, adjusting his jacket. “We still don’t know the full consequences of that. The counsel of magic will be irate, no doubt. The faithful are licking their wounds, but they will be back. I doubt they want news of another resurrection getting out. What about your brother and his brewer friend?”
“Arrivan and Tamera had some unfinished business in Boston, something about a greed demon.” Xlina shrugged.
“Sounds like fun,” Oxivius squinted, smiling widely.
“I thought you weren’t waging a holy war, Mr. Necromancer?”
“Who said anything about a holy war,” Oxivius leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Let Pinesol handle the greed demon. I’m more interested in its stash!”
“You really need to stop calling him that,” Xlina shook her head in dismay.
“Pinesol can handle himself,” Oxivius’ voice dropped low, “He is your brother, after all. Now Owen, that is a whole other matter.”
“You worry about the scythe?”
“Not in the least,” Oxivius answered with a wide grin, “He is a fitting wielder. The best choice for a weapon is the man who is least likely to use it.”
“Well then, what’s you stake in Owen?”
“He promised me a sampling of his finest lagers while you were in the well. That’s a promise I aim to make good on.” Oxivius eyes grew wide with excitement.
“You’re insufferable.” Xlina giggled, grabbing a magazine from the end table and swatting at Oxivius playfully.
“A deal’s a deal. I showed him my hospitality. Now the druid owes me a drink or three.”
“You didn’t?”
“Didn’t what?” Oxivius grinned like the Cheshire cat.
“You fed him? From your kitchen?”
“He said he preferred vegetarian.” Oxivius shrugged innocently.
“Ox!” Xlina scolded in a harsh voice. “That’s not what he meant. He is a druid, for god’s sake.”
“Broaden your horizons I say,” Oxivius answers with a chuckle, “See the world try, new things, eat new people.”
“You’re going to hell,” Xlina teased, swatting again with her magazine.
“After my last visit, I doubt they’ll have me.” Oxivius raised that damn brow of his. She swore one day she would shave it off. She had missed this. Sorely.
“Is there a miss Darkarrow here?” a man in a white doctor’s coat brandishing a clipboard stood in the hall.
“I’m Xlina, Xlina Dar’Karrow.” She sprung from her chair and excitedly rushed to the doctor.
“Fortunate timing. She is awake and doing well, though groggy.” He answered, pointing to an open door down the hall. “She’ll be just fine and can go home tonight.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” Oxivius stood, extending a hand for a firm shake. The doctor nodded, accepting the hand before turning away, intent on his clipboard. Xlina cast a curious eye on Oxivius, who only shrugged innocently in response.
“Three days?” Xlina squinted at the necromancer skeptically.
“Lucky guess,” Oxivius replied, eyeing the open door down the hall. “Well love, it’s time.”
“To bring her home,” Xlina nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Penny has her room all right as rain at the Hearth, got yours ready too should you want it.”
“I don’t think she’ll let me,” Xlina looked down absently, feeling the mark through her shirt.
“Val’s off licking her wounds. The faithful burned Pandora’s to the ground. You can’t stay in the Motel 7 forever X, you’re a wonderful Baku warrior, but you’re a
s dirt poor as a potato farmer during the blight.”
“I know,” Xlina looked at the floor anxiously. She truly did desire to return to the loft above the hearth. “I’ll come home too.”
“That’s a girl.” Oxivius smiled and reached around her, pulling on her shoulders until she faced Amber’s door.
“Why am I so nervous?”
“Remember when you left the hearth our conversation,” Oxivius prodded, pushing her gently towards the corridor.
“I said I wasn’t looking for a relationship,” Xlina responded, remembering the moment like it was yesterday.
“You said ‘I don’t know how I feel’ remember? ‘I just... would have liked to have found out.’ If I recall your words correctly.” Oxivius answered, moving close to enough to Xlina to whisper in her ear. “Well, what are you waiting for, love? There she is... go find out.”
Epilogue
Valeria sulked in her posh Boston apartment, looking out the from her high rise over the bright city lights. Her mortal coil still wounded, she sat drinking an herbal tea in a pair of red silk pajamas, waiting for her worst fears to be realized. She sipped the tea, enjoying the glow of the city after what she assumed would be her last sunset.
“Stop sulking.” Malek’s powerful voice shattered her peaceful reverie. “It’s beneath your station.”
“My apologies.” Valeria humbled herself with a bow of her head. She looked up at the powerful Arch Demon. Her patron. She had failed, failed at every turn, and she dreaded his infernal judgment. He stood, flawlessly dressed in a sharp black suit. His appearance that of a man in his mid-thirties. Powerfully built, with a jawline made for the silver screen, he was a bastion of sexual appeal. He would have made a powerful lust demon, but that was not in his nature. Malek was a demon born under the sin of pride.
“Tell me Valeria, why skulk here in Boston when you have matters to attend to in Portland?” Malek rounded her couch and sat at the end. His sheer proximity to her sending waves of emotion through her.
Dirge of the Dead Page 33
