Crystalfire (25 page)
Authors: Kate Douglas
Slowly it tugged and pulled, twisting and writhing over Dax’s muscular belly and chest, lifting itself, feather by feather, away from its living canvas.
Like a moth escaping its chrysalis, the phoenix forced itself into a standing position and slowly straightened its wings. Once they were fully extended, the phoenix slowly waved them back and forth until they took on form and shape, growing from a two-dimensional drawing to fully functional, three-dimensional wings. They were bigger than Alton had imagined, spreading well beyond the width of Dax’s body. Cool feathers brushed Alton’s arm.
Impossible, and yet there was no denying what he saw, what he felt. Dax lay perfectly still, held in stasis by whatever this was that was taking place, and though his muscles remained rigid, he didn’t appear to be in pain.
Alton realized he was growing weaker as his life force spilled into the phoenix. His legs had begun to shake; his hands trembled, but still he gave what he could, sharing freely. He realized he was praying, begging the gods he’d never truly believed in, asking them to return Eddy, to protect Dax.
The bird was almost entirely free, now. Its talons remained fixed against Dax’s taut belly, and the tail feathers, all the brilliant blues and greens, reds and yellows of the rainbow, were still partially trapped beneath the waistband of Dax’s knit boxer shorts. The bird turned and stared at its trapped tail. It jerked its body, but the feathers were well and truly stuck.
Finally, using its sharp beak, the phoenix leaned over, grabbed its tail feathers and tugged. They slipped just a fraction of the way free. He tugged again, and then again until he finally pulled them out from under the elastic waistband. Long and silky, they draped over Dax’s thigh and curled against Selyn’s hand.
Alton caught her eye for just a second, saw the utter amazement in her expression, but he jerked his attention back to the bird as the phoenix shook himself, ruffling all his feathers. Then he pulled both his feet free of Dax’s belly and fluffed his feathers in such a comical fashion, looking so much like a long-necked, brightly colored barnyard rooster getting ready to crow, that Alton almost laughed.
Entirely free now, the phoenix raised its head and looked around. It stared directly at Alton and opened its beak wide, stretched its neck, and flapped its wings.
The chanting grew louder. Lights flashed from crystal to crystal in a dizzying display racing from walls to ceiling and back again. Dax opened his eyes and watched the bird. The impossible creature turned and focused on him, leaned in close and breathed into his mouth. Then it took a couple of steps across Dax’s belly and stuck its head up through the clear red glow from DemonsBane’s blade, almost as if it were testing the air.
A white mist floated out of the walls, breaking free from the shimmering crystals and gathering overhead. Alton thought of the spirits of the fallen warriors and how they’d looked when Dax had fought the demon king here in this same cavern. It appeared those same spirits were showing themselves again. They swirled faster and faster, spinning until the mist flowed into a tight circle, a small cyclone just over their heads. The chanting grew louder. The sense of power, the growing pressure within the cavern reached explosive levels.
The bird gazed once more at Dax, dipped its head as if acknowledging him, and then leapt into the air with a triumphant cry. The sound it made was of crystal chiming against crystal, the clear tone of a bell heralding something wonderful. Its wings spread wide and gloriously long tail feathers trailed behind. It headed straight up, aiming directly for the center of the swirling mist, lifting into the air on long, strong thrusts of its powerful wings.
As if they’d choreographed the move, Ginny and Artigos shifted their blades and caught the phoenix in a burst of purple and red light.
The chanting ended on a single note.
Beak spread wide in a beautiful scream that was the sound of shattered crystal and ringing bells, the phoenix exploded into brilliant flames. The mist overhead coalesced into a single arrow point that shot into the midst of the boiling inferno. Not an ash fell. There was no stench of burned feathers, no smoke. Nothing but a mere second of whirling, white-hot mist and flames.
Then there was nothing left at all.
Stunned silence filled the crystal chamber. Alton blinked. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen, yet he had to believe it had happened the way it was supposed to.
He didn’t move. Neither did the others, though he was aware of Ginny and his grandfather removing their scabbards and setting them aside. Taking their swords and placing them with the others on the ground at the head of the altar. Then they were standing on Dax’s other side, with their hands pressed to his body.
Sharing their life force as Alton and the others shared theirs. Silently, they stood there, connected by touch through Dax’s powerful body.
Alton lost track of time, lost all sense of self. He was merely a part of the whole, linked through touch, through love and the age-old power of crystal. He searched for a sense of Eddy, for anything that would tell him she was close, that whatever they had just witnessed had somehow brought her back, but there was no way to tell if they’d reached her or not.
No way to know if they’d succeeded.
He was merely one of six who had become one with his grandfather, Ginny, Dawson, Selyn, and Dax, all of them breathing as one. Their life force shared and combined, their lungs drawing the same air, their hearts beating in sync.
Six as one. Each an individual, yet each a part of the whole. The sound of a single heartbeat, rising and falling, slowing and then speeding up, filled the chamber. The rush of a single set of lungs. The sense of a single mind.
Six as one. One as six.
The heartbeat stuttered, stopped, and then started again. Steady this time, and even stronger. Lungs filled with life-giving air, the mind welcomed another.
Suddenly, so smoothly he hardly recognized the transition, Alton was one of seven. Seven hearts beating as one. Seven minds in sync. Seven.
And then, before he could question this obviously important event, everything went dark.
Chapter 19
It seemed to have gotten dark much earlier tonight, but the clouds had obscured the sun for most of the day, and Taron figured that must explain the fact the street lights in the quiet neighborhood were already flickering to life.
“Where should we start our hunt?” Carefully he dried the last dish and put it up in the cupboard with the others.
Willow paused in the midst of wiping down the counter and cocked her head. She frowned and let out a big sigh. “I have a feeling you were right, earlier, when you said the demon king would probably come hunting for us. Turn the light off.”
He didn’t question her as he flicked the switch on the wall beside him. Willow walked over to the kitchen window and stared into the darkness. Bumper’s low growl, even delivered telepathically, sent chills along his spine.
“What do you sense? Is he out there?”
Willow shook her head. “I don’t sense anything, but Bumper’s really uneasy.”
“Bumper? What is it?” He draped the wet towel over the counter and joined Willow beside the window. “Bumper?”
Sorry, Taron. I don’t know. Something’s out there. I thought it was Ed but it’s not Ed. Then I thought it was the demon king, but it’s not him either, but since he’s inside Ed, I have a feeling that’s what I sense. And he’s not that close, but he is definitely out there.
Taron kissed Willow’s cheek. “Wait here. I’m going to take a quick look, but keep those sparkles handy.”
She nodded, turned, and quickly kissed him back. Taron went out the door that opened into the garage. He knew it would give him enough cover to slip around the house from the backyard.
The air was chilly, though not too cold, and the wind had died down to barely a whisper. The rain had stopped, at least for now. There was a sense of expectation about the evening. As he moved quietly through the darkness, he wondered if a bigger storm might be brewing.
There had, after all, been that blood-red sunrise this morning, and while it had rained, the storm had been a gentle one. Not nearly enough to explain the odd sense of anxiety that had dogged him for the last couple of hours.
Taron walked around the side of the garage and carefully opened the yard gate, staying to the shadows as he moved to the front of the house. He paused, partially hidden in a large shrub at the corner, and listened.
The neighborhood was still, but he waited, opening his senses to the sounds of the evening. Someone down the street had their television on too loud—he’d watched the machine a bit at Ed’s house and discovered that, as fascinating as it was, it was also a monumental waste of time.
Willow loved it. She said television gave her a view into human’s lives, but Taron wasn’t so sure it was a valid picture. None of the humans he’d met so far took any of the medications that were constantly on the screen. If he took television at face value, he’d have to assume that everyone in this dimension was sexually impotent and had trouble sleeping and growing hair.
So far, he didn’t think that was the case.
A man’s voice caught his attention. He slipped through the heavy shrubbery until he could get closer to the street. It sounded like Ed’s neighbor, Mr. Puccini, and he was obviously agitated about something.
Staying to the shadows, Taron quietly ran halfway down the block until he was far enough away from the streetlight. He crossed the street in darkness and then slowly worked his way back toward Mr. Puccini’s house.
The old man was up on his front porch, partially hidden behind one of the posts. Whoever he was talking to was still down at the yard level, but they were obviously focused on each other and not paying any attention to Taron.
He moved closer, until he was hidden beside the porch in complete shadow, only a few feet from the two men.
“I tell you, Ed, you look like hell. What are those kids doing to you? And don’t tell me they’re good kids. You were fine until Eddy started bringing those oddball friends of hers around.”
Nine hells.
Ed, or what was left of the poor man, merely growled out an incomprehensible reply. The stench of sulfur was overwhelming, but Taron couldn’t very well attack the demon with Ed’s neighbor standing so close. He edged around the porch where he could get a better view of Ed.
Mr. Puccini was right—he did look like hell. His skin was sallow and drawn and his arms and hands were covered with numerous cuts and scratches. His hair stood on end and it was obvious he’d not eaten in the past couple of days. Taron wondered how long Ed could survive like this. His body was being used up by the demon.
Willow? Can you hear me?
Taron! I was getting worried. Where are you?
Hiding beside Mr. Puccini’s porch. Ed’s here and he looks awful. He’s still possessed. We need to go after the demon king if we’re going to save Eddy’s dad, but I don’t want the old neighbor involved. Any ideas?
I can walk over and interrupt them. Somehow get the old man inside his house.
That might work. No! Wait ...
Ed stopped talking. His body seemed to go rigid.
“Ed? What’s wrong?” Mr. Puccini moved down the stairs from his spot on the porch and reached for his friend.
Ed let out a banshee cry and leapt forward. He grabbed the old man in a tight bear hug. The misty outline of the demon king burst out of Ed and surrounded Mr. Puccini, clinging to him like plastic wrap, encasing and silencing his sharp scream in the seething dark demon mist.
Taron jumped out from behind the porch and swung CrystalFire. The flat of the blade connected with the demon mist, but all it did was send worthless sparks into the air.
The old man’s struggles were weakening. His head fell back, though his mouth was still open in a silent scream of what had to be either terror or pain or both. Taron used the flat of his blade against Ed’s body again, striking him across the shoulders, but he didn’t even react to the blow.
Taron was afraid to hit him harder. He didn’t want to hurt Ed or the old neighbor, but how to stop the demon? And what the nine hells was the creature doing?
Willow skidded to a stop beside him, held out her hands and shot a blast of fiery blue sparkles at the demon mist covering Mr. Puccini. A startled howl split the night and the oily, black mist pulled back. It disappeared into Ed’s body, sucked back inside in less than a heartbeat.
Once the demon mist freed the old man, Mr. Puccini fell to the ground. Taron knelt beside him while Willow blasted her blue fire at Ed, but this time her sparkles rolled harmlessly off his body.
The demon king turned as if it were going to attack. Taron jumped up and raised his sword as Ed stared at first Willow and then Taron and then back at Willow. Then, with a scream, Ed turned and sped away, racing into the darkness much faster than any human should be able to run.
Taron knelt once again beside the old man and touched his fingers to the big artery at his neck. His eyes were shut, his lips blue. “He’s alive, but barely.”
“I’m going inside to call nine-one-one.”
“What’s that?” Taron glanced up from checking on the man’s pulse.
“That’s a number you call when you need help. Ginny used to answer the calls in her job. She told me about it. We’re going to call, and then we need to get out of here before anyone comes.”
Taron nodded, but he stayed with the old man. At least Mr. Puccini was breathing regularly, but he seemed terribly weak, and he looked almost as if he’d physically shrunk in size. Before he had time to figure it out, Willow was back outside. “C’mon. Into the shadows before we’re caught here. There’s no way to explain what’s happened.”
“Nine hells, Willow. Even I’m not sure what just happened.”
“Hush.” Finger to her lips, Willow slipped around the side of the house and ran silently down the street to a shadowed area where the two of them could cross the street safely. In less than a minute they were back at Ed’s house.
Sirens screamed not far away.
Willow and Taron slipped inside the garage just as a police car and an ambulance pulled up across the street. Taron grabbed Willow’s hand and dragged her inside the kitchen where they could watch through the dark window.
Paramedics were kneeling over Mr. Puccini, who still appeared to be unconscious. Taron wondered what story the old man would give the doctors when he finally came to, but that was out of his control. He couldn’t fix everything.
Nine hells ... he couldn’t fix anything. Sighing, he turned away from the window and gazed at Willow. “Okay. Now tell me what just happened.”
She just shook her head. “I’m not positive, but I think the demon king stole Mr. Puccini’s life force. Not all of it, but enough to knock him out. Sucked it out of him just the way he’d steal it from a demon.”
“I was afraid that’s what happened. Grab a coat. We need to go after him. He’s got to be stopped tonight, before he gets any stronger.” He stared at Willow. “Before he kills anyone.”
“I know.” Willow dragged her fingers through her tousled hair. “We have to catch him, Taron. Now that he’s figured out how to do that, there’ll be no stopping him. No one will be safe.”
She turned away and walked over to the back door, grabbed a black leather jacket off the coat rack and tossed it to him. “This is Alton’s, so it should fit you.” Then she slipped on a black coat that must have been Eddy’s, and tucked her blond hair up inside the black, knit watch cap she’d tried on earlier.
Dressed all in black, she’d blend in well with the shadows. As would he. Willow had found another cap just like hers as well as a pair of dark running shoes of Alton’s that fit just fine. With the dark blue jeans and the black leather jacket, he’d be difficult to spot at night. Tying his red hair back in a single tail, Taron tucked it down inside the coat, pulled the black watch cap over his head and donned his scabbard and sword.
“Ready?”
Willow nodded. She fastened a small pack around her waist and stuck a couple of water bottles and some energy bars in it. “I don’t think he’s gone back toward town. Bumper is still uneasy—she thinks he’s headed for the portal.”
“Up the mountain? That’s the only portal around here, isn’t it?” Taron adjusted his scabbard and checked to make sure his sword was in reach.
“It’s the only one I know of. It makes sense—I bet he’s figured out that Dax isn’t here, and if taking Dax’s life force is the demon king’s ultimate goal, he’s going to have to go looking for him.”
“Do you think he’ll try to go to Sedona? The portal’s shut, but I imagine he could open it.”
“Not if we can stop him first.” She flashed him a bright grin and headed out the back door.
Taron turned out the lights and followed on her heels. His heart thudded in his chest, but it wasn’t fear that had him wound so tight. It was adrenaline. Excitement, pure and simple. The hunt was on, and there was only one acceptable conclusion.
Dax crawled out of a deep sea of thick, warm ooze. He felt no fear, no sense of anything other than a need to find the surface so that he could breathe deeply once more of fresh, clean, air. His body seemed unaccountably sluggish, as if the stuff he swam through clasped his arms and legs, clung to his chest, covered his face.
Finally he broke through, but there was no sense of joy or achievement—no, it was merely something he had to do if he wanted to breathe again, and he did. He’d grown accustomed to breathing since he’d gotten this human body, so he took slow, steady breaths, not gulping for air or panicking even though there’d not been a chance to draw a breath for so long.
Breathing was merely something he needed to do to stay alive, so he did it. Once he realized his lungs were working all right, he thought about opening his eyes. The ooze was gone, and he ran his fingers over his chest. Something seemed different, though it wasn’t so much in the way he felt as what he sensed. No matter. It didn’t feel as if it were all that important.
So he opened his eyes, blinked against the soft light of crystal. Reached out with his mind and couldn’t find the one who was always there. “Eddy?” He shoved himself into a sitting position, but that made everything spin. Still blinking, he slowly shook his head to clear his thoughts. The room seemed to spin even more, but he fought the desire to lie back down, to sleep.
Why didn’t Eddy answer? He took a few deep breaths and called out. “Eddy? Are you here?”
Nothing. He glanced about, still feeling out of step and disoriented. Alton lay on the ground beside the altar. His fingers were clasped in Ginny’s and the two appeared to be deeply asleep. Dawson and Selyn slept as well, their hands tightly linked.
Artigos the Just had fallen beside his grandson. One arm stretched out, the fingers spread wide as if he reached for his blade, but he didn’t appear to be in any distress. Dax planted his hands on the edge of the ruby altar, holding himself upright, and studied each of his companions.
Why were they lying so still? And what the hell was he doing on the damned altar? He tried to remember what they’d been up to, but everything was murky. He stared at his friends, waiting for something to make sense.
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