Demonicus (Overworld Underground Book 2) (39 page)

"Maybe your dad could send a slider," he suggested.

"I wouldn't want to rely on magical transportation," Elyssa said. "The aether charge wouldn't last, and then it couldn't recharge."

Shelton threw up his hands. "Why do they have to make everything so difficult?"

"Commander Borathen called a meeting," Bella said. "He wants to speak with the heads of the Overworld Conclave factions about the magic outage."

I wrinkled my nose. "How many responded?"

"The vampires didn't, but most of the other factions will attend." She sighed. "I don't know if the vampires will ever willingly come back into the fold. I've heard rumors the ancients are once again trying to control them."

A shudder ran through my back. I'd met the ancients. Not only could they fly, but they were far more nimble and powerful than their more modern brethren. "Vampires are intrinsically strong like Daemos, lycans, and so forth. They rely on blood, not aether."

"Yeah, while Arcanes are left out in the cold." Shelton scowled. "That could really give the vamps a chance to shift the balance of power back into their favor."

"Hmm." Elyssa tapped a finger on her lips. "What about Serena? She's an Arcane, but she was also Daelissa's top person when it came to mad inventions. These crystals look like something she'd come up with."

"She escaped the last battle, too." Shelton looked as though he knew where she was going.

"You think some of the factions who fought for Daelissa are looking for revenge?" I asked.

Elyssa nodded. "It makes sense."

"I can tell you right now the battle mages and Arcanes on her side wouldn't go for a plan like this," Shelton said. "Not unless they had a way out."

Shelton held up a finger. "Remember those aether interdictors they used so we couldn't cast or channel spells when we were in their range? Their Arcanes had those tokens that allowed them to cast spells."

"Yeah, but those were highly localized," Elyssa replied. "And they didn't remove the aether, they simply rendered it unusable unless a token filtered it."

Shelton snapped his fingers and shaped them like a gun. "Bingo!"

"I don't know how a token would put more aether in the air," I said. "This seems a lot different."

"But troublingly similar." Bella scrunched her forehead. "I don't believe Serena would do this without a way to keep her own power intact."

"If she's found a way to do it, then we're in big trouble." Shelton rubbed the back of his neck. "Basically, she just crippled more than two-thirds of the army that defeated Daelissa."

"The Seraphim will still have physical strength." I felt somewhat certain on that point even though I couldn't prove it right this moment. "But the Arcanes will be…"

"Yeah, go ahead and say it," Shelton grumbled. "We'll be useless."

"Well, you could play the battle flute," I suggested.

He snorted. "Anyway, we don't have many Seraphim left in these parts. Legiaros Ketiss took his army back to Seraphina." Shelton's forehead wrinkled. "The only Seraphim left in Eden are Justin, his mom, his sister, and Nightliss."

My heart grew heavy. "I don't know if Nightliss will show up to help."

Bella's eyes grew downcast. "The poor dear was really in a depression when she told me goodbye and left."

"Bah." Shelton rolled his eyes. "I don't get why she was so upset about Daelissa. That crazy bitch tried to kill her more times than I can remember."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but family is family, Harry."

"There was more to it than that," I said.

"Isn't there always?" Shelton slashed the air with a hand. "All right, enough talk. You need to get your ass to Bangkok. I'll mention our wild theories to Thomas and see what he has to say about it."

I nodded. "We'll see you soon."

Bella blew us a kiss. "Please be careful." She sighed. "It's so frustrating you can't simply step through the portal."

"I just hope the Obsidian Arches aren't the same as this." I motioned to the barely functioning portal. "We'll talk soon."

Shelton sighed and nodded. "Good luck, man."

The gateway winked off.

Elyssa squeezed my hand. "We may have to wait out the flood before we can leave."

"It'll give me time to recover." I touched my ribs and gritted my teeth. "Maybe we can find a boat."

"Let's pray one survived." The look in her eyes didn't hold much hope.

No matter what, it was going to be a long journey home.

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Enjoyed this book? Try the Overworld Arcanum Series. Here's a sample from Conrad Edison and the Living Curse.

Conrad Edison Chapter 1

I wondered if this would be the day my parents died.

Their fate loomed, a black cloud on the horizon. I had no love for these people, but death was too awful even for them.

I couldn't remember my real parents, and there seemed little difference between this set of adults ordering me about and the others before them. The only thing they all had in common was they'd either died or suffered another terrible fate on or around my birthday. It was nearly that time of year again, so I reckoned if anything was going to happen, it would be soon.

"We need some bloody eggs, Edward!" Mrs. Cullen glared at her husband. Her small brown eyes narrowed to slits. "That's far more important than you running down to the pub for a pint with the boys."

"I'll get your bloody eggs on the way back." Mr. Cullen, as usual, wasn't swayed by his wife's argument.

I sat in the back seat of the car and watched the two bicker back and forth about when to get the eggs and what other necessities were more important than Mr. Cullen's desire to drink himself into a stupor as he did whenever possible. It was more entertaining than counting the cows we passed in the countryside on our way into town, and more pleasurable than wondering what fate awaited these two. It was also the only thing keeping my mind off the nauseating motion sickness I got when riding in cars.

"I refuse to let you spend all our money on yourself." Mrs. Cullen crossed her arms. "I won't allow it!"

Mr. Cullen growled. "Then come with me, you bleeding twit."

His wife's face darkened. "I'll show you who's a twit." She reared back and punched him in the side of the face.

The car swerved, leaving the country lane and scraping against a stone pasture wall. Mr. Cullen, cursed, jerked the wheel, and brought it back onto the road. His chubby face crimson, he swung a backhand at his wife and popped her in the forehead.

Screeching, Mrs. Cullen clawed at her husband's face. The car swerved back and forth. I gripped the door handle. The oatmeal I'd had for breakfast rose in my throat as the motion sickness worsened.

"Please," was all I managed to say before the urge to throw up nearly overwhelmed me. I pressed the button to roll down the rear window but it wouldn't respond.

"I said stop it!" Mr. Cullen shoved his wife hard. Her head cracked against the window.

She began to wail.

My ears hurt, but the motion of the car steadied. Shuddering, I took deep breaths to calm my stomach and kept my eyes on the road ahead. Something black flashed through the air. It smacked into the windscreen. Blood spattered, thick and gray. I knew it was supposed to look bright red, but I rarely saw anything in color, except for brief flashes.

Mr. Cullen shouted in surprise. He turned on the wipers and cleared the dark liquid. A large crow lay on the hood. It cawed loudly. Its wings fluttered. Then the creature went still.

"Did you see that?" Mr. Cullen said to his wife.

She was still too engrossed in her loud crying to respond.

A bad omen.
Today might be the day the Cullens died. It might happen in this very car.

I didn't like watching my parents die. The Hughes had been hit by a London bus only ten feet behind me, giving me quite a shock when I turned around to see what was taking them so long to cross the road. The Smiths had died skydiving when a jumbo jet, miles off course, ran right into them after they deployed their parachutes. The Andersons, a very quiet couple, had abruptly decided to call in a death threat against the Prime Minister and were promptly jailed. The Turners had vanished while out for a walk one evening, never to return.

The closest I'd come to dying had been with the Lewises. I'd lived there with three other foster children at the time. Mrs. Lewis was screaming at us to come down to the kitchen for dinner. Just as me and the other children reached the kitchen door, a freakish flood of water washed it away in a heartbeat, leaving us to stare at the great hollow where it had once been.

Thinking about what lay in store for these people only made me sicker.

I tapped on the window.

Mr. Cullen's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "What do you want?" His voice was angry.

"Window." I didn't dare say more for fear I might throw up.

"What the bloody hell for?"

I made a gagging motion.

He bared his teeth. "Keep it down, you weakling."

Mrs. Cullen abruptly stopped crying. "Is he sick again?"

"What do you think?" Mr. Cullen snorted. "We ended up with the runt of the litter this time."

"Least he don't eat too much," his wife said with a smirk. "And they pay better to watch after this one."

"Now we know why." Mr. Cullen glared at me in the mirror. "He's stupid and weak."

I couldn't disagree. School was very difficult for me. I was awful with math and science and barely able to keep up with language arts. Sports were too much for my body to handle. I bruised easily and bled too much from simple scrapes. Nobody wanted me. Like the Cullens, most of my foster parents did it for the government money.

I normally would look away from Mr. Cullen's angry stare, but unless he wanted me to sick up all over the back seat, he had to stop the car or roll down the window.

"Blast it," he growled and slammed on the brakes.

My head bounced off the back of his seat. I felt a little dribble escape my mouth, but managed to clench it shut. I opened the door, released the seatbelt, and fell onto the grass outside just in time. My breakfast spewed into the ditch. After a few seconds, of heaving, I felt empty. A bell jingled. I looked up and saw a sheep watching me as it chewed a mouthful of light gray grass.

I tried to remember what green looked like. I'd glimpsed it once while out with Cora. Her name brought with it a flash of memories. In my mind, I saw the rosy cheeks, the orange hair she frequently dyed different colors, and her brilliant green eyes.
That's how I remember colors.

We stop outside the grocery store. "You're a wonderful boy, Conrad." Cora kisses my cheek.

For the first time, I glimpse her true colors. For the first time, I feel safe.

"Do you remember what to do?" she asks.

I nod.

"Sometimes, good people have to do bad things." She takes my hand and we go inside the store to steal our dinner.

"Baaa," the sheep said, jerking me from the solace of my memories.

Ovis Aries, quadruped, ruminant mammal.

I jerked back.
Who said that?

Mr. Cullen got out of the car and glared at me. "Are you finished?" He looked into the rear door and cursed. "You tossed up on the back of the seat!"

Before I could cower, he slapped me on the back of the head. I nearly fell forward into my own sick.

I threw my arms over my head. "I'm sorry!"

"I'd hit you again but then you'd just bleed all over the car." He gripped the back of my shirt and jerked me off the ground. "Get in before I leave your scrawny body in the ditch."

I climbed inside and looked down, praying he'd get back into the driver seat.

He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face into the stream of vomit on the back of the seat. "Clean it off, boy." He rubbed my head back and forth across the fabric. With one final curse, he shoved me hard back into my seat. "Worthless."

I remained absolutely still and kept my eyes down. Mr. Cullen wasn't as abusive as some I'd known in the past. Humiliating me usually satisfied him. I put my hands under my legs so he wouldn't see my fists tightening. My tiny little pitiful fists. I hid my anger behind downcast eyes. Even if I were stronger, I wouldn't fight back. That would only get me sent back to the orphanage. Anything was better than being back there again, even a little abuse.

"Why didn't you get that dead bird off the hood?" Mrs. Cullen asked as we pulled back onto the road. "It's getting blood all over the paint."

"Because the stupid boy made me forget." Mr. Cullen slapped his hand against the steering wheel. "I'll make him clean it up when we get to town."

I looked at the bird and wondered if strange words would come into my head again. They didn't. I remembered the words clearly.
Ovis Aries, quadruped, ruminant mammal
. What did they mean? Aries sounded familiar. Mrs. Cullen liked the daily horoscope and I'd heard her mention it before.

"I've never seen a person so useless," she said to her husband. "He's supposed to be nearly twelve, but he looks eight." She turned around and looked at me between the seats. "What did you say happened to your parents?"

I looked down. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Don't know, or won't say?"

"I was a babe when they died."

Mr. Cullen chimed in. "The boy's slow in the head, woman. You're only confusing him."

"Why else do you think they pay extra for his care?" She stared at me for a moment. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the extra headache."

"It's worth the few extra pints it buys us." Mr. Cullen snorted. "And it paid for your hair coloring."

"True." Mrs. Cullen ran a hand through her white hair. "Perhaps we could train him to feed himself so we didn't have to take him everywhere."