by Lola StVil
“We’ll all go,” Grace says. “We’re a team. We do this together. If the danger is bad, then we might need the whole team. And if it’s something one of us can deal with, well that’s just a bonus.”
“Fine,” Rye says.
I realize that although he would have gone in there alone, the thought scared him. That notion scares me way more than any of his threats or warnings ever could. I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins.
“Ready?” Rye asks me.
I nod, although I’m anything but ready.
“Don’t let yourself get distracted. Trust us to keep you safe. Just concentrate on getting the box and getting back out, okay?”
I nod again. Rye takes a deep breath and steps through the orange glow. Instantly, he disappears.
“Rye,” I shout, panicked.
“Relax, Sailor. He’s only on the other side of the seal.” Jinx laughs.
He steps through next and I realize he’s right as he too disappears. Grace slips her hand into mine.
“Together,” she says.
I grip her hand a little too tightly and together, we step through the seal. The room is instantly alive with noise and movement. Silver shadows that look like they’re covered in ripped, ragged clothing fly through the air, ducking and swooping. They have heads, but no faces, just gaping holes where their eyes, noses, and mouths should be.
Jinx raises his hand but Grace stops him.
“There’s no point, Jinx. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”
“Already dead?” I whisper.
The rest of the team is stepping through the seal as Grace turns to me.
“They’re Savior Spirits. But don’t be fooled by the name. They aren’t our saviors. They hunt for souls to take back to Hell. Each time they touch you, your soul blackens a little. This causes a drastic loss of life force. The strongest of the strong can withstand five touches before they are blasted to Hell. The average god, us, can withstand three touches. A mortal? One or two at the very most.”
“And we can’t kill them?” I clarify.
She shakes her head.
“No. But we can distract them so you can get to the box safely. And once we’re back outside of the seal, any parts of our soul they touch revert back to normal. It will leave us drained, but that’s nothing we can’t handle.”
The rest of the team is through now, and the Savior Spirits are starting to show an interest in us.
Grace raises her hands and I watch her frown with concentration, but I can’t see anything happening in the room. She drops her hands and gives a sheepish smile.
“I had to at least try to use my telekinesis to bring the box to us.” She shrugs.
“Sailor, go. Be as fast as you can,” Mel says.
I take a shaky step forward, and then another one. I begin to find a rhythm, ducking low, jumping and moving to one side or another. The Saviors swoop around me, a ghostly howl emanating from them. The closer they get, the colder I feel, but I try my best to ignore my racing heart and put my trust in the team.
I don’t know what they’re doing—I don’t risk looking back. I keep my focus on the box. Whatever they are doing is drawing the Saviors away from me, and I have a mostly clear path to the box. I reach it quickly and pick it up, suddenly afraid that it will be bolted down and I won’t be able to retrieve it.
I close my eyes and whisper, “Please work.” I pick the box up. It’s a little heavier than I expected, but it comes up easily. I’ve got it!
I turn around. The team is spread out along the hallway, an equal distance between each of them. They take it in turns to step forward, making noise and waving their arms until all of the Saviors focus on them. Then the next team member starts and draws them to them. I can see they’re taking hits though.
I begin to run back to them. I am so focused on reaching them that I don’t notice my body growing colder. An errant Spirit whooshes in from the side and I react too late. It reaches out with long talons. It scratches them across my side and my whole body is instantly cold and numb. My knees give way and I clatter to the ground, dropping the box.
The icy coldness begins to warm up, spreading a calming warmth through my body. If this is death, then bring it on, because it’s so comforting, so warm. I am vaguely aware of the team screaming my name, screaming for me to get up. I see flashes in front of my face… My dad. Loki. Grace. My mom. Rye.
I don’t want to leave them behind, but I am powerless to stop it as my muscles turn to lead. The warmth beckons to me, pulling me deeper.
“I told you she was fucking weak,” Aziza sneers.
Somehow, out of everything, her insult is what gets through to me. Freud would have a field day with that, but I don’t have time to debate it. The warmth is an illusion. I am cold, filled with despair. I can feel tears running down my face. The Spirit hovers above me, watching me. It makes no move to touch me again. It doesn’t need to. It claimed me as its prize already. The others begin to form a pack behind it. A pack that will escort me to Hell and deliver me to eternal torment. The thought rocks me to the core, but I can’t move.
Except I can. I am not ready to die. I am not ready to see the world go up in flames. I won’t give up. Not like this.
With an effort that makes me cry out, I push myself to my hands and knees. The team has rushed forward and they stand between me and the Spirits. I push again and manage to get back onto my feet. I pick the box back up. It’s as heavy as a house and I stagger under its weight, but I’m doing it. I’m forcing one foot in front of the other. My feet feel like ton weights and several times I trip. I can’t let myself go down. I know if I do, I won’t get back up again.
The door seems like it’s a million miles away. I look down at the ground, not wanting to see the distance I have to cover. I just put one foot in front of the other, concentrating on each step. I can hear the team behind me, and somehow knowing they still have my back, even if I am just a stupid, weak human, spurs me on.
I gasp in delight when I see the orange glow starting to cover my hands. Three more steps and I’m out. Two more. One more. I step through the orange light. I am still exhausted, more tired than I’ve ever been in my life. My muscles ache like I ran a marathon. But I no longer feel the despair I felt in the room.
The team begin to tumble out behind me one by one until we’re all out. We lie side by side on the ground, all trying to get our breaths back a bit.
“We have to keep going,” Rye says.
I force myself to turn my head in the direction of his voice. He isn’t lying down, but he looks like he should be. His face is deathly white and he’s swaying slightly on his feet.
“Seriously, guys, get up. We weakened the seal entering through it. Without the dagger in there, who knows how long it’ll hold.”
As if to prove Rye’s point, the orange light begins to flicker. It’s all the motivation I need to get to my feet. I feel my knees starting to buckle again as I’m halfway up, but Rye steadies me. He takes the box from me.
“You did good, Sailor,” he says.
I beam under his compliment, too tired to try to hide my feelings.
“Did good? That’s an understatement. Not many mortals could fight the touch of a Spirit. Hell, not many gods can fight that,” Sunday says.
Only Mel remains on the ground.
“I just need a moment,” she gasps.
“We don’t have a moment,” Sunday says.
He scoops her up in his arms. I can see his muscles shaking where they threaten to give out, but he stays upright. Mel’s eyes close and her head sags against Sunday’s shoulder. I frown, worried.
“She’ll be alright,” Aziza snaps. “She just needs to sleep it off. We all do. Let’s get back to the portal.”
She turns to stalk away.
She turns her head slightly back to me.
“Sailor, I’m sorry I said you were weak, I thought…”
“I know,” I say, giving her a half smile. “Thank you, Z-Z
.”
She’s the only one of us who looks like she could fight anything stronger than a kitten right now, and Rye doesn’t complain when she takes the lead. There’s no energy for chatter, and we make our way slowly back up the staircase, dragging our aching bodies up and up and up.
“No,” Ya-Ya shouts suddenly from behind me, a cry filled with shock and pain.
I spin around, momentarily forgetting my own aches and pains.
“What is it?” Rye demands.
She holds her hand up.
“I broke a damn nail,” she says.
“Are you kidding me?” Rye says.
She shakes her head and I swear I see tears in her eyes. I shake my own head. How can she be worried about a broken nail after this? Looking at the rest of the team, it’s clear to me this isn’t something gods do regularly. I’m not overreacting. Everyone seems shaken by the whole thing. Except Aziza, the Amazon warrior I’m starting to think has no limits.
We reach the top of the staircase and head back out the door. The portal remains where we left it, closed but ready for Grace to reopen it quickly. We start crossing the graffiti-strewn room. We’re less than halfway across it when Sunday shouts up from the rear.
“Demons. Run.”
I risk a glance back and instantly wish I hadn’t. Hot on our heels is a small pack of Slip Demons. One look at the team tells me no one is up for fighting them. Not even Aziza, who is starting to show signs of strain around her mouth. I can hear the snarling and growling of the remaining Krops too, and it’s getting closer. I force my body to respond, running even though every muscle in my body screams at me to stop. Grace uses her super speed to get out in front of us and open the portal.
She steps through and frantically beckons to us from the other side. Behind her, I can see the familiar game room in the cabin. Just a few more steps. Aziza reaches the portal but she doesn’t step through. She stands guard on the edge, pushing Sunday through. He gets through, drops Mel on a couch, and sinks to his knees. Ya-Ya streaks past me and dives through the portal.
I feel a warm hand wrap around mine and for a second, panic takes hold of me. The seal broke! The Spirits are back! The contentment in my hand tells me so, but then I hear Rye’s voice close to my ear.
“Faster, Sailor,” he shouts, pulling me forward so fast I’m sure I’ll fall on my face.
I manage to stay upright until Rye drags me through the portal and then I let myself collapse in a heap beside the portal. I realize Jinx and Aziza still aren’t through, and I push myself to my knees to look for them. Jinx stands a few paces back from the portal, using his force field to hold back the demons and now the Krops.
I can see his force field flickering in and out as his already exhausted body is drained of its power.
“I can’t hold it much longer, Aziza. Go,” he shouts.
Instead, Aziza steps up beside him. She sends a wall of flames from her palms, a wall that holds back the demons and Krops long enough for Aziza to grab Jinx by the waistband of his jeans and pull him through the portal.
“Close it, Grace,” Rye commands.
Grace staggers forward and snaps her fingers. I look away from the opening, frantically looking for the box. It’s not here. It was all for nothing. I feel relief flood me as I spot it on the small table at the end of the couch where Mel lies.
Suddenly I feel a hand grab my shoulder, sharp talons piercing my skin. I try to pull away but I can’t. I am being pulled backwards. I scream and try to find something to hold onto but there’s nothing. Jinx makes a grab for my ankle, missing me by less than a quarter of an inch.
I am back in the bus station, the Slip Demon who grabbed me laughing manically in my ear. Fire rages around me and stings my eyes, my nose, my throat. I cough and splutter, trying and failing to free myself from the demon’s grasp.
“Sailor, stay down,” I hear Aziza yell.
A yellow fireball flies over my head and then hands grab my ankles. I am being pulled again and I kick and flail.
“Stop fighting me,” Aziza yells.
I stop, realizing it’s her hands on my ankles. She pulls me back into the game room as the portal zaps closed, and I take in a deep breath, which comes out as a long, wracking cough. Rye is instantly by my side, rubbing my back. Aziza glowers at me. She saved my life, but she’s probably back to thinking I am weak.
My coughing fit passes and I feel okay again. Tired, but okay. Rye gets back up with an effort.
“Is everyone okay?” he asks.
He’s greeted with a round of not very enthusiastic yesses. I look around at the team. Already they’re rallying while I still feel like utter death.
“Let’s see what all of the fuss was about then,” I say, getting to my feet slowly.
Rye looks like he’s about to object to me being up, but he bites it back when I walk to the box. I flip the lid open and throw the box on the ground in disgust. There’s no dagger inside. Just a silver medallion.
“It’s not the dagger. It was all for nothing,” I say.
Rye picks the medallion up. He turns it over in his hands and puts it in his pocket.
“It has to be important,” he says. “Look how well guarded it was. And the door needed Paradox blood to open it.”
He doesn’t sound overly convinced.
“Maybe it is important to you, but it’s not the damn dagger, is it?” I snap.
I can’t believe we all risked our lives for what is essentially a rather ugly necklace.
“Nexus will know its significance,” Rye says. “She’ll explain when we pass it on to her.”
“Pass it on to her?” I say.
Rye nods.
“Yeah. Myself as the team leader and you as the Paradox must go to Nexus as a pair and hand over any artifacts we find along the way.”
“Let’s go then,” I say.
Rye shakes his head.
“You need to go home and sleep, Sailor. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though my head is spinning and my eyes are almost closed.
“Yeah. I don’t think so,” Rye says.
He steps forward and catches me as my legs give way again. I vaguely hear him asking Grace to make a portal and I am vaguely aware of him carrying me though it and putting me down on my bed. I try to ask him to stay with me, but I am too tired to form the words and I fall into a deep sleep.
RYE SPEAKS
Images flash in front of my eyes.
Sailor lying on the ground, her neck broken, her left leg bent at a ninety-degree angle, her eyes glassy. Dead.
Sailor running toward me, trying desperately to outrun a shadowy figure. She is crying, screaming, reaching her hands out to me. I try to get to her but I can’t move, I am stuck in place, paralyzed. The figure catches her and snaps her neck with an audible crack. She drops to the ground, a thin trail of blood running from her lips.
Sailor running into my arms, happy, laughing. I reach out for her, but as my arms touch her, she turns to dust and crumbles away, leaving me nothing but a small pile of gray ashes.
Sailor standing in the bus station, her knife in her hand. A Savior Spirit swoops low, touching her. She screams and blood runs from her nose. I run toward her, but I’m too late. The whole pack has her. They lift her from the ground and fade from sight, taking Sailor with them.
I wake up with a jolt, my sweaty limbs tangled in the sheet. Angrily, I throw the sheet to one side. I am panting, my heart racing. I know how close I came to losing Sailor today, and although I tried to hide how much effect it had on me, in my dreams, she’s there and the constant danger hanging over her taunts me, showing me what will happen if I allow myself to love her.
I think back to my date with Felicity. It was hell. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s hot, but my God is she boring. She’s nothing like Sailor. She didn’t have an original opinion in her head. She hung on my every word, and it got to the point where I was saying the most ridiculous things just to see if she’d agr
ee with me. She did. I ended up cutting the date short.
It’s one thing showing the universe I’m not into Sailor, but that was a step too far. The thought of having to spend the rest of the evening with Felicity, to maybe even have to kiss her… No thanks.
I told her I didn’t feel well and called her a cab. I planned to walk home, but as I left the cinema’s parking lot, Chief Pollard and Deputy Donato were doing a drive-by. They stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride home. It seemed silly to refuse, so I got into their car. I immediately regretted it when Chief Pollard started to ask me about Sailor. Apparently, news of our almost kiss spread quickly and it seems the whole town was under the impression Sailor and I were dating. I guess my date with Felicity was necessary after all.
I told the chief it was complicated and he started telling me stories from his youth, from when he was dating. Like he thought he was down with the kids or whatever old people are saying these days. I pasted a smile on my face and nodded at the appropriate moments, but I wasn’t really listening to his inane chatter. I was thinking of Sailor.
Who else?
I kept seeing the moment I first set eyes on her. I knew who she was, what she was. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were torn and raggedy, and she was covered in blood. She had just fought a Slip Demon. When I got there, I watched her stand up and hold her head high, like a true hero. In that moment I knew I wanted her. She was so much more than I ever could have imagined. She was the personification of a Paradox. When I first saw her, she was clearly terrified as she fought the Slip Demon, but beneath her terror was a quiet strength. Beneath her fumbling attempts to save Maya was a compassion that I had never seen before.
Thinking of my date again makes me think of Sailor’s face when Jinx announced she was here. Fucking Jinx. Sailor was never supposed to find out about my date with Felicity. It was something to appease the powers that be and nothing more. She looked so hurt. So…broken.
“Fuck,” I shout.
I stand up abruptly and pick up the glass of water from my end table. I launch it at the wall, feeling a spark of satisfaction as it smashes into a thousand pieces. My satisfaction is short lived as Sunday bursts in, his hair standing up at strange angles.
