Illusion (33 page)

“Fool.” Trent wiped his hands on his jeans as if dusting off refuse. The ledge rattled and a crack ran along stone, splitting it in half. “You don’t have much time. If we don’t get off, we’ll all fall. You’re not immortal until tonight. You might prefer death, but the warrior will also die. Think fast. What will it be?”

Save Resh. She had no other choice. The bracelet shivered on her wrist, a warning she ignored. She’d lost everything, would end up in the Abyss at her father’s side.

“Leave him at the cave entrance and I’ll come with you. Promise to let him live. No Khereb interference.” Hopefully Esmonda would return for Resh. Sweat broke out on her skin, letting her know the interlude was over—the withdrawal symptoms were back. There’d be no point avoiding spells now and maybe they’d offer solace in the Abyss.

Trent made an expansive gesture to the Khereb milling in the sky. The mist started to roll back to reveal olive-green trees and a denim-blue ocean in the distance. It was her last glimpse of life. She ignored the taint of Khereb, and sucked in deep breaths of fresh air, raised her face to capture prickles of heat from the sun. She was going back to the darkness; she knew it.

Don’t make me go.
It was a childish voice—her own. She pressed her lips tight in case the words spilled out. This time, Molokh wouldn’t let her return.

“Of course, Pidray. Our Daughter of Mist.” His words of ownership filtered through her veins. No more lives because she’d run out of time. Her bracelet twirled and clanged as the djinni left. The last time she’d dealt with Molokh, the djinni had run to Besmelo. Would the djinni do the same this time? It was unlikely the Guardian would intervene; he wanted her back in the Abyss. At least the djinni would be safe from Molokh. The idea offered a small measure of comfort among the stench of death.

Binding Maleficium

“There are some who mark their children by passing them through the ritual fires. These creatures consume and summon the dead. They are witches and often wear the morbid aspects of death. Witches cannot be trusted.”

-Corpus Megistus, Volume III, Enim Empire

Resh lay in a four-poster bed made of white twisted wood and rough cotton sheets. The heavy crystals the healers had tied to his naked body with strips of leather pressed him to the bed. The air was rank with the musky smell of rot from the Tau swamp.

“Not many expected you to return.” Lucient sat by Resh’s bedside in the humid room. “Balkaith is overrun with Khereb. Most made it out of the city for Nephthys. Others made their way through the tunnels to the defensible towns on the plains. The witches agreed to hold a full Guild Assembly on their lands. We’re resolved to make our final stand here in Tau.”

Resh didn’t respond, betrayal leaving a rancid taste in his mouth. In the moment of distraction, Esmonda had read Alexandr’s thoughts, had tried to warn Resh that his friend would betray him. How Alexandr had hid his intentions for so long was anyone’s guess—a lifetime of disguising himself behind a pleasant face and courtier manners. The adept had sacrificed all by giving Maya to the Khereb. If he weren’t already dead, Resh would have killed him himself.

Resh’s breath rattled in his chest from a punctured lung. He was cold, cold with dishonor and disgrace. Maya had given herself up to save this realm, the ultimate sacrifice, and he’d failed to save her. Above his body hundreds of cross stones, coral and citrines, tinkled in a faint breeze. A healing red garnet over his heaving heart, snake stone on his thighs for protection, witch stone on his third eye for restored mental powers, flint on his wrists for healing, diamonds for strength on his shoulders. No emerald for love—they’d made sure of that. The stone would only drive him insane now that she was gone. The witches were empaths. But they’d remembered chalcedony for sadness, a heavy weight on his stomach, and onyx on his gonads.

It had all been for nothing, his rejection of Molokh, traveling to Tau, risking his friends and the realm, all undone by a traitor. His failures dug like barbs into his skin. He’d have traded his own life for Maya’s but hadn’t been given a choice, and now she was in her father’s grasp. Worry dulled the fury that kept him from throwing the healing crystals off his body in rage. Fear battled with hope that she’d taken her
kila.
It was a small token of protection in the swirling darkness.

“Will you stand with us?” Lucient asked.

The answer was so obvious he didn’t respond, just opened his eyes. Whatever Lucient deciphered in them made his tattoos stand out like black smudges on his white face. “Esmonda told us who Maya is. We’d never have sent you to Earth if we had known. I’m sorry, Resheph.”

Of course they would. Having Molokh’s daughter was an Elder’s dream come true. Even if it meant war, her power alone would compel them to study her and discover what she could do. Resh’s father would have sold his soul to get his hands on her, which is exactly why Resh hadn’t told the arch-warlocks in the first place. Of course it no longer mattered because his friend had betrayed him.

Worse, it was Resh who’d failed to keep her safe. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he gritted them to hold back the scream building in his throat.

Dusk arrived and the room fell into shadow.

Pia and Gaai perched on a wooden windowsill, silhouetted against twilight’s arriving in Tau. They watched him with bleak, expressionless eyes. Only Pia twitched silently. She’d found what was left of Alexandr’s body.

“You must help me find her.” His voice was a low, husky rasp. “We’ll open a portal between realms. Hunt for one of her drawings? Perhaps there’s something left of one she drew in the Chasm of Light. If we did it before, we can do it again. You owe me that, at least.”

“Resheph, it’s impossible. Even if we had one of her pictures, we couldn’t risk it. They’re too unstable. Her sketch in the Chasm melted off the wall. Something is happening at the Pillars. Besmelo has barred the Tesseract from use. The pathway to the Abyss is closed. The gods left us to fight this battle on our own.”

So, she was alone then.

The crystals flashed and glittered in the Empire’s last light. At this low latitude, twilight would only last a short while. It was the witching hour. Perhaps the High Priestess would help him—except he had nothing to barter—unless they’d found Maya’s backpack on that ledge with the Soulbearer intact.

“The witches say you have bloodlust. Is it true?” Lucient stank of fear. In Balkaith, bloodlust usually meant a ritual death for the soul infected with it.

“Yes.”

Lucient sighed and met his gaze. “It no longer matters what became of you in the Abyss. We can’t be punctilious when the realm is at risk. Whatever you are is accepted. The thirst will work in our favor in battle. The Tribune and guild leaders arrive tonight in Tau. Tomorrow morning, a war assembly will be held and we’d like you to attend. Lord Seth has already arrived. Aseroth seeks your counsel. Markuth is dead. We need you to lead the Order. Are you with us or not?”

Everything he’d always wanted, handed to him on a platter. The reason he’d accepted the request to find Maya on Earth. It was all pointless now. Anger battled with sorrow, and a cold conviction won out.

“Help me find her?”

“She’s gone. I cannot.”

“Either help me, or watch the Empire burn.” Implacable. His mind an endless series of pictures of Maya: laughing, talking, and teasing. He closed his eyes. His best friend had betrayed him and his soul mate was gone. His body felt weighed down by more than rocks and minerals. “Give me reason to fight. Get me a meeting with Indira.”

“Indira won’t meet with anyone. Only sent word that Tau offered asylum to the Tribune and any guild leader brave enough to enter.” The Priestess hadn’t been seen in years. Stories had spread of her vindictive nature. How she’d quarreled with a neighboring town and invaded their houses, destroying everyone within.

“Well, you have a task ahead of you then.” He’d face expulsion and death rather than allow Maya to remain in the Abyss. She wore his wards and now the pendant of protection. When making love he’d shared his powers with her. Would it be enough to help her?

* * * *

“She’s an interesting creature.” Indira’s teeth rested like a broken fence in her mouth. She was ancient, her iron-gray hair piled on top of her head in an untidy mess.

“She is,” Resh agreed, wary of saying anything to annoy the witch. She’d arrived at midnight in a cloud of vapor, and now paced back and forth, her tattered black gown flowing like thick oil over her tall body. Her thin girdle cord was tied in three knots to control the element of air: calm, wind, and storm. She’d already placed her baculum—her witch’s rod—on his chest, channeling in the Tau tradition for endless moments. The witch stank of unwashed body and foul breath. He’d only just avoided shrinking back when she’d spat on her middle finger and placed a psychic mark on his forehead.

“To understand her, one must open their eyes to new possibilities.”

“Can you bring her back?”

Indira continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She was disguised as a human, yet manipulates etheric energy. Her thoughts create physical and spiritual life. Not surprising, given her birth hour falls on Sauin.” She paused, frowned. Sauin, often called Samhain on Earth, was celebrated by the coven. Each year the witches lit fires and paid tribute to their gods. “It makes her vulnerable.”

“In what way?”

She gave him a scathing look. “What do you know of Sauin?”

“Not much. Some say sacrifices are made and the rituals arrest time, dissolve the borders between natural and supernatural.”

“It’s the day most favorable for her to fall pregnant.”

Resh felt the color drain out of his face. He watched the crone pace back and forth.

“It must be as her father intended. He wishes to beget an heir. The ritual will be something to behold.”

He swallowed the bile rising in his stomach. “She’ll be more powerful as our ally. Carries a Soulbearer in her sack.”

Indira’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t play with me, warlock. Yes, she might carry a tidy weapon and be a true master of creation, using nothing but imagination to shift time and space. But she’s haunted by djinni and chose a pathetic warlock instead of one of the witches to mate with. A warlock who lost her on the steppes of Tau, I might add. Molokh is not to be taunted by taking away his plaything, even if we could cross into the Abyss, which we can’t, as you’ve trifled with the Guardian.” She pounced to his bedside and he tightened his muscles to stop from recoiling.

She watched him beneath a thick unibrow. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. He might have stated the obvious, but now it was a dangling thread between them.

“No comment?” she asked sarcastically. “Perhaps you’re not as dull as I thought. Keep your mouth shut and you just might survive what you’ve brought to Tau.”

He stared at her.

“You don’t know, do you?” Her smile broadened. “You’re tainted, you fool. Lord Molokh left you with a slice of the Abyss in your soul. He’s a clever demon—able to inhabit a body without leaving a mark. He’s been tracking you. A shame he’s too unpredictable to conjure, and far too dangerous to worship.” Her gaze became unfocused, and her pupils constricted to black pinpricks in the glowing whites of her eyes.

He lay on the bed, worry mingling with a violence that made his hands shake.

“If you survive the exorcism, I’ll help you locate her. Not for you, of course. I could not care less what happens to a warlock. Pidray will pay the price. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for saving your black heart so you can storm out with your warlock friends, food for the Khereb.” She bent over and whispered in his ear. “I want her to replace me as leader of the coven. Imagine, someone who has access to past-life memories. Ahh, yes. Don’t look surprised. No one in the Empire lives forever. Except our lovely Pidray, of course. Life after life.”

Maya.
He wanted to bellow out her true name, but kept silent.

She strode over to the door and pulled it open, yelling into the empty corridor. “Enchant the
fith-fath
. They’ll cleanse him for the banishing.” She turned her head and flicked her lips with a hairy white tongue. “Watch the
bauchans
. They’ll pluck your ravens free of feathers if you don’t acknowledge them from time to time. Coin works best, but any favor will do.” The door clanged shut, hard enough to cause the shelves to rattle like snakes behind her.

*

“The Pillars are captured. Besmelo can’t take us on neutral ground. Once the portal opens, we enter. Here and here.” Molokh’s voice carried from nearby. Her father and several demons relaxed sat in carved chairs at a long glass table, pointing at a semitransparent vertical map.

Above Maya’s head the ceiling disappeared into black space broken by thousands of glittering constellations. The vastness of universes pressed down and her heart beat so hard she wondered if it would burst. The cold air was drenched with sulfur and the subtle hint of ozone. Red glyphs appeared on four black pillars of what she guessed were eastern, northern, western, and southern boundaries.

She sat next to a floor lamp, hugging her backpack to her chest and rocking back and forth. It felt like she’d been here for hours, but it must have only been a short while. Several more floor lamps spilled puddles of yellow light across pitted stone.

Where had she gone wrong? She’d stopped taking spells, but magic found her wherever she went. Was her nature so vile that she couldn’t help herself?

Her bracelet jittered on her wrist and something scuttled across the light, casting dark shadows near her feet. It took her a moment to recognize the djinni. It hadn’t finished tormenting her, it seemed. For some reason she felt reassured by its presence, almost comforted by the faint scent of patchouli.

The floor shifted and waved in front of her eyes, as if she’d taken too many of Jhara’s spells. Nausea swirled in her stomach in waves. She shuffled her bottom on the cold ground, moving toward the light in a futile attempt to gain some warmth.