The Demon Hunter (19 page)

“Oh.” Oliver got it. “You mean the portal … to the night I died. Yeah, but we used that picture of me, and it got destroyed.”

“It didn't though,” said Emalie distractedly, her brow working on thoughts. “The negative is fine. I … I still have it in the basement. But we'd need a portal like Dead Désirée gave us.”

“I really don't feel like asking her for another,” said Oliver. Bane's words echoed in his mind:
Don't trust her.
And he pictured Bane's face turning to dust … “Wait,” Oliver said.

“What?” asked Dean.

Oliver reached into his pocket and looked at the black bottle. “Just before Bane turned to d—” he couldn't quite get the word out. “He was complaining about this stuff. Like it was hurting him, but Désirée said it would make him feel better.” Oliver looked at Emalie and Dean. “How did Lythia slay Bane?”

“She didn't,” Emalie replied.

“Yeah,” added Dean. “She caught us and was right beside us. She didn't throw out a stake or anything, just pulled out that box like she …”

“Like she knew it was about to happen,” said Oliver darkly. Could it be true?

“You think Désirée's tincture slayed Bane,” said Emalie.

Oliver could only nod.

“Uh oh,” said Dean.

“Does that mean Lythia and Désirée …” Emalie didn't finish.

Oliver did. “They're working together.”

A moment of silence passed over them. Oliver remembered thinking about how much Désirée had “helped” him. What had she really been doing? Toying with him? Using him? And for what? What were she and Lythia really up to?

“I guess that rules out asking Désirée for another amulet portal,” said Dean.

“We don't need to,” said Emalie resolutely. “I can make one.”

“That's dangerous,” warned Jenette.

Oliver eyed Emalie. She was still shaking ever so slightly from fighting the Nagual. “Can you?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. I'll have to research the enchantment—have my Aunt Kathleen help me, but why not? It just might take awhile.”

“Did you miss the part where it's dangerous?” Dean asked, concern in his voice, too.

“She can do it,” Oliver said, locking eyes with Emalie. He needed her to. “We'll just have to be careful.”

Oliver stood, looking down at the false graves, and felt a surge. His human parents were out there. He felt sure of it. Then he glanced around. His friends were with him, and they had a plan.

But my brother is gone.

The thought froze Oliver, and yet there was a sliver of calm inside him since the tears:
Bane was trying to save me.
It made the fact that he was gone so much worse, and yet, the thought also gave Oliver some kind of new feeling. He didn't know how to describe it.

And Bane had said that he'd found a way to undo the prophecy. Which meant there
was
a way. If Oliver could pick up where Bane left off, just as Oliver had picked up the prophecy where Bane had left off.… He could do this. They could do this. This new feeling was beginning to overtake him, to make him shake. Maybe it was just hunger and total exhaustion and grief.

No,
Emalie said in his mind.

Oliver found her clear eyes focused on him.
What is it, then?

Hope.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah,” he said aloud. Hope.

“All right, kids,” Dean groaned. “If you guys are through, we should get subterranean.” He glanced up into the trees, where the glimpses of sky had lightened to gray.

Oliver stepped out of the graves and pushed the dirt back in with his foot. Then he turned away, leading them through the trees. He felt an awful rush of worry as he imagined Phlox and Sebastian reacting to the news about Bane.

Bane
…

That was going to be terrible, Oliver was certain of it. But he was certain of something else, too.

He would finish what his brother started.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Oliver Nocturne series

Chapter 1

Infiltrating the Inquisition

READY
?

In the ink-black dead of night, a single red light flickered. Given its grave importance, the light was surprisingly weak. It did not reach the dark waters below, which lapped against an old, rusted ferryboat that was docked in a forgotten corner of an abandoned shipyard. It barely reached past the edge of the balcony on which its keeper stood. But the crystal sphere of magmalight, perched on a tall wooden staff, was bright enough to alert those who knew where to look.

I think so
…

The light's keeper stood still, shrouded in a hooded black robe, staring straight ahead with a single, pupil-less white eye. It didn't see the giant cargo ships slipping by on the water, nor the glow of sleepy houses on the far shore.

I don't know about this
.…

What the eye of the Reader did see was the matrix of forces intersecting from many worlds, specifically the force signatures of beings that might not be visible to normal sight.

Dean, just trust me
.

Okay.

There was little for the Reader to see tonight. Other than the shimmering spirit of a dead bird fluttering aimlessly in the wind, the night appeared empty. All the guests were inside. Now it was a matter of keeping unwanted presences out.

Hello
, a voice suddenly spoke in its head.

The Reader started, confused, sensing a strange presence in its mind—something living, a girl? But wait, it also felt like a demon.…

Cecitethhhh
… The voice hissed, and the Reader's mind clouded, losing track of the forces around it. Blinded, the creature panicked, staggering—

Then the feeling was gone. The Reader's lidless eye, which had momentarily dimmed, began glowing brightly again, and its view of the forces returned. There was the still, dark night, the spirit of the dead bird.… The Reader sighed. His eighth-millennium birthday was approaching. Age did funny things to the senses.

Meanwhile, behind the Reader, two shadowy figures hurried down a dark metal hallway undetected, into the bowels of the ferry.

We're in
, Oliver thought.

Great
, Emalie said in his mind, and then popped into sight between him and Dean.

“Nice work,” said Oliver.

“Thanks,” Emalie replied, but then she stumbled and crashed to her knees. The sound reverberated up and down the hall. Oliver glanced worriedly back toward the Reader, but it didn't turn. It had no sense of hearing.

Dean knelt and helped Emalie up. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“I'm fine.” Emalie shook him free. She looked pale. Oliver noticed that her eyes had changed, as they did when she made contact with demons, her pupils turning white and her irises red. “Stop looking at me like that,” Emalie snapped at Oliver. “I can handle it.”

“If you say so,” said Oliver. He knew better than to argue with her. Still, things like this had happened to Emalie before, and they were only getting more frequent. It wasn't supposed to be possible for a human, even an Orani, to speak with the dead the way that Emalie could.

They entered the cabin of the ship. The rows of seats were bent at odd angles, strung together with cobwebs. The boat had been out of use for decades, and looked it, which was the point. No one would expect a meeting of such importance to be held here.

“This way.” Oliver pushed open a door into the kitchen. The steel appliances and cabinets were covered with graffiti, the counters littered with trash.

They reached another door and Oliver paused. He could hear the echoing voices on the other side. He turned and shot a severe glance at Emalie and Dean.

“We know,” Dean moaned, “stay quiet and don't get found out and all that.”

“Pretty much,” Oliver agreed.

“I just wish I could go,” said Dean.

“I tried, Dean,” Emalie said sympathetically.

“I know, I know. No way to make a lowly zombie invisible.” Dean rolled his eyes. “It's safer anyway,” he said, fingering the smooth black pendant around his neck. “Just in case …”

“Right,” said Oliver. As far as they knew, the hindrian charm Dean was wearing had been keeping him safe from his master's orders. Emalie had found an enchantment to power up the charm, and Dean had shown no signs of being under Lythia's command, but there was still a danger. The charm was only supposed to be temporary.

“We'll tell you everything,” Emalie promised.

“Have a great time,” Dean grunted with a wave of his hand. “I'll be here keeping watch.”

Emalie nodded and vanished again.

Oliver spectralized, disappearing as well. Then he pushed open the door and stepped through. There was no floor on the other side. He concentrated, steadying himself against the forces, and slid onto a curved, metal wall.

You there?
Oliver thought to Emalie.

Right beside you
, Emalie thought back. She had been able to speak in his mind since the summer. It was convenient for situations like this, but it also meant that Emalie could hear Oliver's thoughts whenever she wanted. That had taken some getting used to.

Wow
, Emalie said in awe.

Thirty feet below them, at the base of sheer metal walls, were three rings of chairs. Behind them, windows looked out into black water beneath the ferry. Magmalight globes swirled white-hot between the windows.

Every chair except for two was filled by a finely dressed vampire. All eyes faced center, to the circle of space occupied by two figures: Phlox and Sebastian. They stood beside each other, shoulders touching. Oliver tensed at seeing his parents. He could almost feel the dark emotions coming off them.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” asked Tyrus McKnight, one of Sebastian's coworkers, who sat in the surrounding crowd.

“I think we've explained quite enough,” Phlox replied indignantly. “We know nothing of what Bane was up to. He is—” her voice hitched, and her eyes began to glow turquoise, “—
was
his own demon.”

Oliver felt a knot pulling tight in his stomach. This was the first reaction he'd seen from his parents about losing their older son. It had been two weeks since that night, when Oliver had returned home, stood in the living room, and delivered the news: “Bane's gone.” He'd braced for his parents' reaction, expecting them to explode in rage, calling for vengeance against Lythia, Désirée, and even Half-Light.

But Phlox and Sebastian had barely moved. They'd been exhausted at the time, having spent many nights searching for Bane, not knowing until it was too late that Half-Light had been framing him for a series of human murders. Oliver's awful news had only seemed to press them further into the couch.

Since then, Oliver had waited nervously. Maybe their reaction would come the next evening, or the next. But the nights kept passing. Silent, tense,
empty
. Until now.

“There, there, Phloxiana,” a thin voice said below. It was Mr. Ravonovich, head of Half-Light, a wiry old vampire with ancient eyes, pure white skin, and razor-sharp, parchment-colored teeth. “These are certainly unfortunate events.”

“Why don't you tell
us
what Bane was up to?” asked Sebastian, his voice quiet, dangerous. “You're the ones who planned to slay him.”

“What
we
planned to do, Sebastian,” Ravonovich replied icily, “was whatever was necessary to protect the prophecy. We are here tonight to determine what
you
knew, not the other way around. And based on all the testimony, I think we can conclude that you were not aiding your son in his traitorous actions, which is fortunate.” Ravonovich raised his voice to address the chamber. “The case of Bane Nocturne is closed, and now we must turn our attention to the future. We have only a week before the Darkling Ball, and we must ensure that nothing jeopardizes the Anointment.”

Is that about you?
Emalie thought.

I think so.
Oliver figured that the “Anointment” was the ritual in which he would be given mystical power by the demon Vyette, power that would allow him to journey to Nexia. She would be summoned from a higher world using the Artifact.

It didn't surprise Oliver that he hadn't known the ritual's proper title. He knew almost nothing about the procedure itself, and even less about what it meant. What kind of power was he even getting? How did one travel to Nexia? All he knew was that this power was critical to him making the journey and receiving his demon, Illisius. And to opening the Gate and freeing the vampires, which would also destroy the world and everything in it, including his friends.

“Once the Anointment is completed,” Ravonovich continued, “there can be no stopping us. The prophecy can no longer be tampered with, and the Gate
will
be opened.”

“But what of Bane's traitorous labors?” asked Leah from the crowd.