Illusion (16 page)

He erected mental barriers, building a wall of magic. The creature lifted its hand, blowing another cloud of vapor into his face. Arctic cold thundered into Resheph’s skull. Something snapped in his head and agony raced through him, numbing his reactions. He gritted his teeth as his powers surged then raced away, drawn in lines of fast voltage strikes toward the creature.

The spirit’s eyes narrowed and it gestured. “
Oixifed,
I bind you, warrior. Your spirit and soul are mine.”

The spirit’s voice reverberated in Resheph’s brain, overflowed his thoughts. He bellowed a repelling curse.

The spirit laughed. “You may call me Agares, ruler of the eastern zone.” Agares’ voice changed, becoming guttural. He morphed into a pale old man with greasy long hair, sitting on a gnarled crocodile. A hawk sat on his wrist. The hawk tore at Pia’s feathers, ripping into her flesh. The bird screamed. “I am he who is clothed in the body of others’ flesh, governor of submission and madness. Fall before me in adoration.” Agares’ pupils glittered.

Resheph fought off the gorge rising in his throat.

“What use am I to you, demon? You already have my magic. There is nothing left to take,” Resheph said.

Agares threw his head back and laughed again. “Why, your suffering gives me pleasure. You’ll find I can be quite inventive with your soul. Perhaps I’ll find a way to bring your physical self across. How tidy that would be. Your gods have abandoned you. You’re being punished for calling a guardian to the Earth realm.” Agares sniggered. “Your powers are my reward for finding you first.” He brushed his hand across Resheph’s cheek in a loving gesture.

Resheph’s muscles jerked and a spasm shook him. Inside his mind, emptiness existed where magic had once been. He clenched his muscles, reducing the shudders to convulsive twitches. Thank the gods. His body would soon appear in Balkaith, an empty shell.

“What is it you want for returning the raven to Balkaith?” Resheph panted, knowing he debased himself by begging.

There was a snap of lightning. A sheet of yellow parchment appeared before Agares. Complex magical symbols and red Latin script written backward danced across the page.

Agares raised a dirt-brown fingernail to his lip. “Master wants you.” He morphed into a dark-skinned skeletal beast with prominent black wings, red eyes, and a narrow doglike head. He gestured to the yellowed parchment. “The seal of Molokh, written in blood. Our lord offers a pact. You have something he wants.”

Agares yanked Resheph’s unresisting soul toward one of the twirling lights. He would have fought if he could. Pia’s eyes were open, staring at nothing. She no longer moved or resisted. Her head flopped in Agares’ claws. Neither Alexandr nor the Tribune could save them from this. Only Besmelo could intervene, and as Agares said, he’d defied the gods’ law back in Maya’s apartment.

“Come, my love. Off to the kingdom of Molokh, realm of splendid twilight.” Agares licked his lips with obvious delight, jerking Resheph along like a mutt on a lead. “Perhaps our lord will let me have leftovers.”

“
Vade retro,
Agares,” muttered Resheph, trying another spell.

Agares laughed, and they flew toward four mighty pillars, two white and two black.

Resheph’s thoughts turned dark and cold.

If he had to deal with Molokh and wager his soul, he’d ensure the demon regretted it. He’d settle the score before he descended into madness.

Disintegrating

Maya’s short nails tapped a staccato on the ledge. Rain splattered in shallow puddles across the hillside. The rock shelf leaned on a slight angle, causing water to trickle in thin rivulets off the lip and flow down the slope.

She draped her jacket over her head and pushed her back into a slight depression in the wall.

The wind picked up, howling with a low moan.
Maya McAdam.

She shivered, wrapping the jacket over her head like a cowl and gripping her elbows. The sky darkened as the sun moved behind scuttling clouds and fingers of black shadow clawed over the cliff, grouping at her feet as if the ledge was the last piece of resistance in a world gone bad. Goose bumps ran up her arms.

The shadows coalesced and the image of spidery figures formed inside.

Come. Join us,
they whispered, low and humming.

Maya groped for the spellbox and she flicked it open, staring at the coiling mass at her feet, sure if she took her eyes off it, the vision would reach forward and take her. Rage boiled so fast it blindsided her. Rage they’d followed her here, rage against her mother for drugging her when she was too young to protect herself, rage with herself for taking spells.

A hard little tab pressed into her finger and thumb, and she lifted it slowly, pushing the pill between cracked lips and swallowing.

The shadows were so close she could see the creatures’ heads arched back, their thin arms thrown wide as they swayed and swirled. One spidery hand reached forward and imprisoned her boot, giving it a solid tug. Her backside shifted on the ledge, sliding inexorably toward the edge of the cliff, and she lashed out viciously with her other foot, pressing into a marshy mixture that smelled of wet earth.

Jump. We’ll catch you.
The shadow oozed closer.

She opened her mouth and screamed in fury, trammeling the ledge with hands, both feet caught in the mess, while the taste of decaying leaves hit the back of her throat and dirt ground between her back teeth. The shadows trembled, rocking and increasing in tempo and the ledge creaked, an awful grating sound. She bellowed out a hot stew of words.

Her shoulder blades ground against the rock wall, and then there was nothing there. She fell backward into empty space, charms tumbling over her head as she landed on her back with an
umph
in a cavern hiding inside the mountain. Her head thumped against cold stone and the wind spewed out of her lungs in one long cough.

She sucked in a gasp. “God,” she wheezed. The wind whistled past her ears, rushing past her face into dark tunnels. A door slammed somewhere far above. She had a quick impression of several pairs of long legs standing beside her body. The back of her neck broke out in cold sweat and she braced herself for Balkaith’s warlocks.

The vision didn’t back down. Black fingers clutched the roof of the cave. Geometric shadows slipped like a stream over the cavern ceiling. Except they didn’t just stay there; they rushed at her. Several circled like vultures and one dived low with a grapnel hook. She ducked, throwing her arm up to protect herself, and the chain whipped past her ear.

Something thudded near her head. Maya lowered her forearm.

A slice of sun cut through a cloud and fell across one of the warlocks. He thumped a silver staff on the ground. It emitted a red spark that rumbled with a hollow, pressurized roar. The walls shivered, releasing a cloud of subterranean dust. The shapes wobbled. He thumped again and the sun came out from behind a cloud, exposing three warlocks standing in a semicircle around her head.

The vision pulled back, slinking out of the cavern, leaving dot clusters embedded in the striated limestone surface.

The bright daylight captured the body and face of someone who might have been carved on a Greco-Roman coin.

He looked down at her as if he’d found something interesting on the bottom of his shoe.

“Maya McAdam, we expected you to arrive in the Holy District.” He leaned his weight forward on the silver staff. Gaai hopped near his feet.

She sat up, twisting to face the tall warlocks. Blood pooled into her mouth from a bite on the inside of her cheek, and the back of her head felt like someone had hit her with a baseball bat. From his matter-of-fact tone it seemed he hadn’t seen anything. She sneaked a peek at the rock shelf to see if the shadows were still there, and her body trembled in relief. The sun beat down on the ledge, revealing a sky dotted by a few high clouds and a bright landscape.

She scrambled to her feet and bit back a groan, bracing herself against the limestone wall with one sticky palm.

“The ritual tossed me out down there. Thanks for finding me.” To her relief her voice sounded normal. She didn’t bother acknowledging her name, suddenly distracted by an awful prickling on her chest. Her brow creased in a frown as her nipples burned. Then her breasts swelled, tripling in size, jutting out like two extra large hillocks covered in gray cotton. Damn that fucking Jhara and his unpredictable spells.

The blond shifted his weight.

She was standing in the middle of a tunnel that disappeared into darkness in both directions.

“Where is Resheph?” one of the cloaked men asked. His hands were clasped behind his back. “We expected you in the Vault.” Loose black cloth draped him from head to toe. A silver circlet sat atop his hood, embellished with blue stones.

“She couldn’t produce a short range transfer,” said Gaai. “Strange for a witch who shifts reality between dimensions.”

She stared at the bird, her head throbbing, and smiled through gritted teeth.

“I apologize for any insult, but it wasn’t intended,” she said, clasping her hands so she couldn’t fidget. With their crossed arms and blank faces, the warlocks broadcast the kind of ascetic arrogance that brought out the worst in her. “The bird’s right. Resh told me my pictures are volatile, and to avoid drawing.”

“I’m Alexandr. This is Anchal and Lucient, Tribune adepts,” the blond said, pointing at the other two. “You wear Resheph’s scent.” Blunt chopped blond hair fell around smooth features, obscuring part of his face. Shadow fell on the other half, giving him the look of a two-faced God. Alexandr reminded her of someone. Her brow scrunched up in thought.
Janus.
She shuddered.

These warlocks weren’t throwing out a red carpet or even a welcome mat. Rubbing her palms on her pants, she struggled to find words to explain. She dug deep for a few social pleasantries and came up with nothing.

The warlock Lucient uttered an incantation. A luminescent black sphere appeared between his hands. He drew a deep breath and tossed it at the gap in the wall. The globe hung in the open doorway, surrounded by the blue sky. Its mass expanded, solidifying into a black bulk of stone that blocked the entrance to the tunnel. Lines of power flared, crackling over the top of the stone as the wall hissed, sealing shut. Lucient swept his hand to indicate she should start walking.

At least there was a wall between her and the vision. Her small smile was met by wooden expressions and complete silence.

Maya scanned the dim light ahead. The tunnel walls curved, disappearing into darkness. The tunnel, lacking any real warmth, reflected the aura of her rescuers. The wall sconces provided patches of light to chase away the darkness. Against the wall a blue flame in a wire cage cast a spectral glow on the dark interior. She walked up wide steps winding around the inside of the mountain.

“Resheph hasn’t arrived to explain your presence,” Anchal said.

Her muscles tightened and she stumbled, nearly falling over a step.

“I realize my arrival is unexpected, and I’ll happily answer your questions.” Thank God she’d landed on that sentence. Her stomach felt hollow, as if she’d been punched.

“It’s odd he didn’t return with her.” Anchal said. Tall and thin faced, he had a clipped beard, eloquent eyes, and a navy blue geometric design tattooed down the bridge of his nose.

Did they expect her to have a sign on her back explaining why she was there?
I dumped him in the darkness because he is a lying ass
nearly slipped off her tongue, but she held it back.

“He’s in the Abyss. He was infected by poison and we separated in the dark. I arrived alone.” Back on Earth, he’d dogged her footsteps, an irritating mountain of a warlock with the personality of a rock, and she’d do anything to have him beside her right now.

The three men looked at one another over her head, and then back down at her as if she were a magnetic pole.

“Separated, you say.” Alexandr frowned. “We saw you standing together at the interdimensional threshold. What poison could have troubled an alchemist?”

Maya mentally winced. Now she had to explain to a coven of warlocks that she’d dumped their prize warrior. She fumbled for a moment, trying to think of a good explanation, barely admitting to herself that she’d truly screwed up. By now he should have turned up, surely?

“Khereb poison. We lost the journal and ran out of time. I guess I didn’t respond well to sharing minds. I … fought the joining.” It sounded worse out loud and she flushed.

“Khereb poison?” The warlocks stopped and stared, wide-eyed. They spoke in a quick tone, in their own language.

Alexandr stared down at her, rubbing his neck. “Khereb, you say?”

“We came across three of them. A bull, a jackel, and vulture. With mixed body parts. They tore up my apartment, broke through the wards. We left Earth under attack.”

Anchal shook his head, white-faced. His eyes met Lucient’s.

“How in the gods did you expect Resheph to convey himself back?” Alexandr asked.

“I assumed he’d find his own way. I’m not familiar with crossing realms.” She knew she was a mess, but she could hardly be expected to know the consequences of interplanetary travel if Resh didn’t feel the need to warn her up front.

“Ignorance is hardly an excuse. Why would you even consider such a thing?” Alexandr glared at Maya.

“I didn’t realize, dammit. I know nothing of this.” She spread her hands wide. But she did feel guilty, made guiltier by their disbelief. Damn her impulsive nature, maybe he was in deep shit because of her. The thought was unnerving and she cleared her throat.

“Crossing the Tesseract is outlawed,” said Anchal, his eyebrows drawn. “We knew the situation was dire when we supported Resheph’s ritual. Had no idea…” He swallowed hard. “The Abyss is antimatter. The ritual forms a matrix, sending the etheric and physical body in energy waves across the realms. It’s like woven cloth. Two particles of the same type can’t exist simultaneously without the other. The body’s arrival completes the process.”