Illusion (29 page)

“What do I look like?”

“Be calm. It must be nearly over.” Alexandr said. But he didn’t sound certain.

She wanted to reassure Resh that she’d be fine, but she felt distant, like she’d faded, washed too many times and barely discernible to everyone, even herself.

“I think I know who the Enim warriors are.”

“Rest,” said Resh. He sounded so far away.

“Will you still care for me?” Her head spun, caught in a terrible whirling sensation.

“I’ll never stop. I can’t.” A wind whistled, carried his words to her.

* * * *

Darkness caught her, wormed its way into her dreams, and surrounded her with the now familiar smell of sulfur and rot.

“Daughter, you called me,”
a deep voice said, rusty and ancient. He was a red glow in the darkness. Blond hair pulled back from a sharp widow’s peak, his bare chest all carved muscle. Black skinny jeans encased long legs. His eyes were so blue. The same blue she tried to paint. The color of the sky, except his pupils flashed sunset red. Molokh.

“Leave me be.”

“This is your destiny. Every millennium you’re born. We’ll take a realm for our own. Let me comfort you.”

A cold hand brushed her cheek, froze the tears on her cheeks into diamond shards that fell into blackness, glittered like Balkaith’s night sky.

“I don’t want power.”

He smiled, all urbane politeness, morphed into a skeletal figure with curved ram’s horns, clothed in copper armor.
“You do. You even want mine. Yet you condemn me for your actions. Repellent deeds are difficult to accept. Yours were heinous. I couldn’t stop you. This time there’ll be fewer causalities in the Empire. Or do you want Earth? The magi don’t deserve the realm, can’t hold it for much longer. I’ve already placed my favorites there in preparation. The House of Anu wait for us.”
Vapor seeped from his empty eye sockets. The insidious curls glided closer.
“Wouldn’t you like to be Jhara’s superior? He will bow and scrape for your favor.”

“No,” she cried. Ancient images appeared in the swirls of incense, redolent with myrrh and patchouli. Black shapes transformed to color.

She saw them.

A profusion of clumped date palms.

Lines sliced across pale throats—children floating face down in a milky river—the stench of natron and bitumen and fine linen—embalmed bodies interred in Canopic jars—corrupt spawn with metal face guards forcing parents to dance to the rhythm of lute, lyre and sistrum—chanting in abandon to Lord Molokh—her blonde-haired self swaying on a mountain of bleached bones—head thrown back and arms spread wide to the heavens—behind her the djinni wearing a sad smile.

Her semitransparent copy.

“They weren’t dancing for me. It was you all the time … it’s always been you.”
Her father’s voice held sorrow. The demon lord pitied her.

“No,” she screamed. The fear and horror she’d been running from her whole life found her. “I’m not the one.”

“We are one.”

“No.” Wind shrieked in the echo of her voice.

“I’ll help you control maleficium. Bound by blood and history. We are one.”

Resolutions

“Warlocks are careful. They do not communicate with evil or hesitate when confronted with corruption. The safety of the realm is their first priority. Even family must come second.”

—Corpus Megistus, Volume VII, Enim Empire.

Darkness retreated as Maya woke to a raging headache and dry throat. Heavy limbs told she’d been out for a while. Images of Molokh and a white city, sacked by soldiers, destroyed by fire flashed across her mind. The taste of knowledge was bitter and sour. The dark shapes she’d been drawing her whole life were the children she’d killed. Since arriving in Balkaith and finding the sky, she saw the scenes in glorious color. Tiny faces twisted in pain. Guilt was too small an emotion to hold what she felt inside. Regret even carried a smell. Patchouli. And every breath hurt so bad she could hardly bear it. The djinni was her double and it had been sending her messages her whole life. The visions were there to remind her of what she’d done. So she’d never forget.

Resh’s measured rasp and Alexandr’s lighter timbre sounded several feet away, while someone, probably Esmonda, waded out of the lake with a rhythmic slosh of water. Maya needed information and Resh would have it. That same ticking clock she’d seen in the Vault tapped incessantly in her head. Everything had become complicated—she worried one false move would end with her destroying everything she cared about.

She had a lust for power and magic was the lure.

If only she could shove Molokh into the lowest subdimension of the Abyss. But another part of her wanted to be accepted for who she was, dark energy and all.

No. No. No. That was Molokh’s plan; she just knew it. He played to her vulnerabilities. She didn’t want to be accepted by a demon and never would. She’d control her desires—she had to.

Something landed with a thud and she flinched, opening her eyes before she could stop herself. Her backpack lay in front of her face.

She looked up long, long legs encased in tight pants, belted low with a metal clasp, to an abdomen corded with muscle, even through the clingy shirt. Her eyes lowered to slits. She’d never felt so uncertain about anything in her life. Not even when she was dirt poor and wondered where her next spell would come from.

Resh hunkered down in an unhurried movement. “You’re awake and survived the change, all in one piece, thankfully. You look just the same. Healthier, if possible.” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “You gave us quite a scare.” Humor tinged his voice, but he was pale and drawn.

She didn’t want the words of confidence. The death of all those people should show somewhere. What kind of monster walked away from murder without a sign, a mark of some sort? Pathetic tears flooded her eyes, and she blinked them away. In a past life she’d unleashed demons on the physical realms. She’d done it again. Even if she managed to outwit Molokh, she still couldn’t turn back the clock and make amends for the past. All those grieving parents were dead now, just particles of dust blowing in an empty desert.

“I wasn’t concerned about my looks.” Her voice was soft, and she cleared her throat. That wasn’t completely true. For a while there she’d wondered if she’d end up a monstrous snake with a dog’s head.

“I thought you were concerned.”

“About what I would do.” There were worse things than monsters, such as ugliness hidden inside, disguised by pale skin, a fresh face, and youth.

“Well, you didn’t eat anyone, although your body heated like hot coals, and you vanished for a good while.” His hard face was strained, but beneath the smile lay understanding, compassion, and a glint of determination she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“How did Esmonda react?” she asked, not really caring, but wanting to put off the chat she knew was coming.

“I think she was disappointed you survived.” His mouth lifted in a grim smile. “Here.” He held out a piece of fruit. “Open up.”

She opened her mouth and he fed her a round purple fruit that tasted sweet, a little like banana. He watched her mouth beneath lowered lids. A shiver ran over her skin as she chewed and avoided his gaze.

Sitting up, she realized someone must have taken off her coat and jeans. The same pale-skinned body lay beneath the swag. The short-sleeved T-shirt had twisted, and she contorted to straighten it. Her nipples stuck out like thumbs and she cringed. Nothing fit. How did top-heavy women cope in this world? She’d love to draw Esmonda’s face if she broached the subject.

“Where are the others?” she asked, to fill the silence that stretched between them. She traced a forefinger over her tattoos, darker now, the same shade of ink as the bleak ravens that crawled over Resh’s tanned biceps.

“Checking the mantle of protection. Now we’re close to the exit, we can conjure a magnetic field to hold off the beasts. Once you’re rested, we’ll make our way to the Tyre Basin. From there we will teleport to Tau, reach the swamp before your birthday.”

“I thought releasing energy would alert the Khereb?”

He gave her a wry look. “They must know where we are. Your alteration created such a burst of energy that even Balkaith would have felt it. Why the Khereb haven’t arrived is anyone’s guess, but you needed time to recover, so we set the wards. We’ll leave for Tau tonight, if you’re ready.”

She nodded. He handed her some bread and cheese, and she took it, suddenly hungry.

“Do you see what you did?”

She looked up questioning, and he pointed to a nearby wall. A picture had been drawn in muted pastel colors of a dark-haired woman dangling over a pond.

She frowned. “I don’t remember doing that.” She must have drawn it in her sleep. She shuddered. How creepy. “It’s Jane.”

He looked at the wall for a moment longer. “She’s in the Abyss.”

“I guess I’ve drawn it that way.” Who knew what her subconscious was doing when it pulled her out of bed. At least it wasn’t animating. Not yet anyway. “Maybe we should get rid of it?”

He stared at the wall, face unreadable except for a small nerve twitching in his temple. After a moment he walked to the drawing and rubbed it out with the back of his arm.

What to say? Filling her mouth with bread gave her an excuse to say nothing, but the silence grew. She wanted to tell him she was sorry that she’d dragged him into this; that she didn’t know trouble followed her to Balkaith. Wanted to invite him into the bedroll, but knew that the others would return, and wasn’t sure if she could cope with his rejection anyway. The silence grew longer and longer.

“Jane’s not dead,” he said.

“What?”

“She’s not dead. She’s with Molokh in the Abyss.” His voice was uncompromising. “Along with your journal.”

She flinched and choked on a crumb, coughing and gasping for air. His big hand patted her gently on the back until she recovered her breath.

“I don’t understand?”

“I saw both in the Abyss.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” she retorted as realization struck.

“I thought you’d struggle with the knowledge, and I was right. Look at you now, riddled with guilt and self-pity.”

She reared back. Fury rose in her so fast she wondered it didn’t fly out the top of her head and zap him dead. “You held back. Again. After all we’ve been through, you decide to freaking conceal this from me.” She had two goals right now. Find out as much as possible about her past so she could stay alive, and to keep Molokh from frying her friends. Achieving either would take a miracle. Especially if Resh went caveman on her, tried to protect her when what she needed most was information.

His mouth turned down. “I offered you a reprieve. What benefit was there in you knowing sooner? We still had to take this journey. Did you think our decisions would have been different, that you’d go back and find Jane and the journal? How easy would that be?” He glowered at her as if he’d already explained it to her, over and over, and she was just too stupid to understand.

“Effing hell. Stop treating me like I’m useless. Yes, you’re bigger than me, but guess what; I’m not a child. In a few days, God only knows what I’ll become. Maybe history will repeat itself. If I betray my friends, I’d like to think I did it because of my own limitations. Not because of some missing detail you decided to keep from me. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘forewarned is forearmed’?”

“I have more faith in you than that. More faith than you have in yourself.” He stood, long body stretched above her, immediately putting her at a disadvantage. She shoved aside the bedding and rose unsteadily, food tumbling to the floor.

“You promised you wouldn’t conceal anything from me. Why in the hell would you keep Canaan from me?”

His eyes flashed silver and widened. She’d surprised him.

“That’s right. I know about Mesopotamia,” she said. “The place where the mighty warlocks disappeared, divided by politics and faith. You took something very powerful with you, three thousand years ago. No wonder the magi are still pissed. You took their grimoire, their heritage, and escaped the leveling of the city. Oh, and thanks for leaving them with us. They nearly wiped the planet of humans during the Mage Wars.”

“Don’t waste time in sympathy with the magi. Magic lacks sentimentality. Their support for Molokh came back to bite them and I won’t apologize that my ancestors were unequivocal in their dealings with the magi, or Lord Molokh for that matter. I promised to keep you safe, which is more important than Earth’s troubled past, or any part you played in it. This is a new life. You have new decisions and new paths to take. It’s your choice to make. The magi will help us send the Khereb back to the Abyss. I have faith.”

“You just don’t get it, do you? I appreciate you watching out for me. But you can’t protect me from my father or from myself. I need to know what’s going on so I don’t get blindsided.”

He narrowed his eyes and his scowl deepened. “Well, maybe you don’t always know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you think is good for me. Who says you get to decide? I’m in control of my own—”

“Yes. You have that right.” He glowered at her, dragged his hand through his black hair, tugging it with his fist. “This is about control. You being in charge. Knowing everything up front, never working for it, or waiting until you’re ready to hear it. Impatient to the core. Selfish. And by the by, I’m sick of your swearing.”

“I get it. You know what’s best. You make the decisions and ‘oh by the way, forget the past and become an aristocrat while you’re at it’.” The muscles in her face were tight, didn’t want to work properly.

“You’re so wrangled in self-pity. I know you’ve had a difficult time. But there are others who have suffered, and don’t feel so sorry for themselves. Don’t let Molokh win this battle for your soul.”

He might as well have kicked her in the stomach and he must have realized he’d gone too far, because his voice softened.

“I don’t want to argue. Not now. We have little time to ourselves. Let’s not waste it.” He half turned, pulled his black shirt over his head, and tossed it to the ground. There was a long pause. “I’m going for a swim.”