Mother May I (Knight Games Book 4) (22 page)

Five doors. Five stone beasts. Why five? There were five elements. I surveyed the doors. This one had a vine—the only one with a vine in the entire room. There was one fountain, one bowl of fire, an earth floor, and of course, air. This was a test. I had to prove I was worthy of reaching Hecate, and only a witch who could wield all five elements was worthy.

With a deep breath, I gathered myself up and walked toward the next door to my right. As before, the stone cracked as I passed it, but this time I was ready. The beast erupted from the stone and barreled toward me, teeth thrashing. I faked sliding to the side and jumped instead. Whether by my own power or Julius’s, I landed on the beast’s back. The creature flopped and rolled. I leaped out of the way and did the only thing I could think to do. I blew. Wind picked up in the circular room, hurricane wind. I blew and blew, forcing the creature back until he slammed into the wall near his door. I didn’t quit. I blew harder. The hellhound burst into flames.

Two down. Three to go.

Another door, another hellhound. The beast revived and charged. I reached out my hand, extinguished the fire in the copper bowl and re-formed it into a spear. Dodging claws and teeth, I slid in the dirt under the beast’s belly like I was sliding into home on the softball field. In a plume of dust, I plunged the copper spear into the creature’s heart. It curled in on itself and flopped off me, taking my spear with it.

My chest burned and bled as I negotiated the fountain to face the next one. This statue guarded a door mounded with dirt. Earth. I hadn’t used that element yet, and I sent my power into the ground beneath my feet. The hound hatched from its shell and pounced. Retreating, I stomped, cracking a chasm in the earth beneath my feet. The gulch opened, swallowing the dog before it could reach me.

The last hellhound cracked its stone encasement. The only element left was water, which meant I’d have to use the element to kill it. Only, I hadn’t manipulated water here yet. I’d left this element till last, because I was worried that Elana’s power wasn’t truly with me. The way I’d obtained it seemed shady at best. There was only one way to find out.

“Come out and play, little doggy,” I said, beckoning it forward with my hand and circling to the other side of the fountain.

The beast leaped for me. With a grunt, I plowed my power into the pool, sending a geyser of water to intercept the beast and wash it into the fountain. Under the weight of my power, the beast drowned in less than six inches of water.

So much for self-doubt. I had them all, and I knew how to use them.

“Choose,” my mother’s voice boomed from above me.

“What? An element?”

There was no answer. There were five doors. Obviously, I had to choose one of them. But which? And what would be the consequences of my choice? I had to assume that the door I chose would deliver a challenge based on that element. Each of the elements was powerful. However, the element I felt most comfortable with was wind. It was my native element and the one I wanted to keep when this was all over. I decided I’d select wind first.

The deep wound in my chest throbbed, and I looked down at it in disgust. I needed rest and to heal. Rest was out of the question. Healing? I approached the fountain and washed out the bloody cuts, then cupped my hands and splashed some water over my sweat-and-dirt-caked neck.

“Choose!” The command came louder. With a groan of stone on metal, the room began to shift. The floor revolved, turning me within the doors. By the time I could react, the spinning threatened to knock me on my ass.

“Fuck!” I ran for the door with the burned remains of the hellhound next to it, but with the room rotating, I couldn’t be sure if the door I chose was the one for wind or for metal—the bowl of fire had been directly in between the two. Hoping for the best, I jumped against the stone door. Thankfully, it gave under my weight. I landed on the other side, plunged into darkness. The door slammed and sealed behind me.

Chapter 27

Pop Quiz

“D
amn. Learn a new trick,” I whispered under my breath. My whisper bounced around the room, the hiss of it echoing back to me. It was too dark to see, so I blew into my hand, hoping my wind element would work here. A flame ignited in my palm. What I saw around me almost made me extinguish it. Snakes? No, some kind of worm. A long black specimen coiled down from the ceiling and latched onto my shoulder. I brushed it off, and it squirmed on the floor, contracting its sucker in a hungry pulse.

“Not worms. Leeches,” I said in horror. I looked down at my bleeding chest and then up at the thousands of two- and three-foot-long leeches crawling toward me. I panicked. “Noooo!” I kicked them off my feet and stomped them under my heels. I brushed them from my skin and ran, sprinting through the corridor. They kept coming. Leeches poured from the walls, filling the room. So many that every time I lifted my boot, there was a suction sound as I tore them away from where they clung. I danced and squirmed, squealing when one landed on my head.

Still, I pushed forward until the black writhing creatures piled to my waist. I could feel them feeding on my flesh, boring under my shirt, wriggling within my clothing. The loss of blood made me weak, but that was the least of my problems. In minutes, I’d be buried in them.

“Think!” I told myself, my heart hammering in my chest.

And just like that, I remembered I was a witch. I blew, and the leeches burst into flames, but I didn’t stop there. I blew and blew until the wind in the corridor was strong enough to tear everything in it apart but me. I blew and burned until my body ignited. I’d never been this hot, but the fire didn’t hurt me. Within seconds, I’d incinerated the leeches to dust and cleared a path through the corridor.

“Fuck this place.” Still flaming, I crossed the ash-filled passageway to another door. The bitter stench of burned leeches wafted after me as I exited into the next room.

As I crossed the threshold, the fire that had consumed my body extinguished. The door slammed, and I found myself in a hall of mirrors, naked. My clothes, I assumed, had burned away.

Frowning, I turned sideways and ran my fingers through my hair. I looked like hell warmed over. At least my reflection showed me one thing—my chest wound had healed. Great. Now I just had to process the inordinate size of my butt reflected in triplicate.

I walked forward, smack into a mirror. “Fuck. What’s this fresh hell?” Trailing my fingers along the mirror, I tried to find my way out, but as far as I could tell, I was inside a box of silver. Silver. A test of metal.

“Honestly, you’d think this would get easier.” Was I supposed to melt the silver? Cast myself into it? I placed my hands on the mirror and willed it to open for me. It obeyed, but I found myself in another octagonal room of glass. I was in a silver hive. I pushed and melted my way forward, until in my frustration, I accidentally broke a mirror.

“I sincerely hope that seven-years-of-bad-luck thing is just an expression,” I said, stepping over the broken glass. I sighed. Another room. This was taking too long. There had to be a better way.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated, opening myself up to the magic in the room. A source of great power surged to my left. Unless I was grossly mistaken, that would be Mother. She was the only thing that made the hair on my arms stand on end. I turned in the direction, focused my power, and pushed. The mirrors shattered as if an invisible wrecking ball had plowed through them. Glass sprayed around me, the ringing cacophony causing me to cover my ears with my hands. When the pieces had settled to the floor, I cheered. A clear passage stretched before me, all the way to another door.

I picked my bare feet through the glass. It did not cut me. I took a deep breath before I opened the door. Surely it would lead to another test, but I wasn’t sure which one. I told myself it didn’t matter. I was ready for whatever Hecate threw my way.

Opening the door, there was no doubt which test I was entering. Water hovered at the threshold in a curtain, like I was looking down into a fish tank instead of vertically into a corridor. I wasn’t an exceptionally strong swimmer, and the sight of a hammerhead shark swimming through the room did nothing to help my anxiety.

“Here goes nothing,” I murmured. I poked my foot through the door. The water stayed where it was, hovering in the threshold. With one last deep breath, I stepped in, allowing the door to close behind me. Barefoot, I walked along the bottom of the sea, surrounded by razor-sharp coral and schools of colorful fish. None of the living creatures bothered me, but I couldn’t hold my breath forever. In the distance, I could barely make out the door to the next challenge.

Lungs burning, I started to swim, willing myself to move faster toward the exit. The water pushed me forward at my will, faster and faster, but it was no use. The door seemed to be moving away from me at the same pace as I swam. Desperate for air, spots danced in my vision from lack of oxygen. I couldn’t make it. My body wouldn’t wait.

My lungs contracted, and I inhaled salt water. It washed inside, filling my lungs, and I breathed it out again. In and out. I settled into a rhythm, and that was how I discovered a water witch could breathe underwater. I remembered the bubble that had formed around Kendra. Apparently she hadn’t needed it, except maybe to keep her dress dry. Laughing, I rode a tide of my creation all the way to the now stationary exit.

Almost disappointed to leave my undersea world, I pushed the door open and stepped out of the ocean. My foot landed on exotic green foliage. I coughed the water from my lungs, as the passageway closed behind me. This room was a jungle. The test of a wood witch. I ventured forward.

“Ouch!” I pulled my foot back and eyed the pathway. Thorns. The trail was covered in them. Now that I understood the tests, beating them was simple. With a wave of my hand, the thorns parted, as did the man-eating flowers and the strangler vines that crisscrossed the path. I reached the opposite door in record time.

“Earth,” I said confidently. It was the only test left. I squared my shoulders and opened the last door. I was ready. At least, I thought I was.

Chapter 28

Bad News

I
was wrong. I was not ready. Not even close. The floor gave out under me, and I tumbled into total darkness. “Ugh!” The air knocked out of my lungs as I landed on my back somewhere soft. Maybe a bed? I couldn’t tell in the darkness. I tried to raise a hand to blow a flame so I could see, but my knuckles pounded against something hard and smooth. Carefully, I felt around me in the dark. There wasn’t much room. I could only bring my hand to my face by first crossing my arms over my chest and then raising them to my chin. My wind element wouldn’t work. I could not light a flame.

I’d have to explore by touch. I was in a crate. A small pillow cradled my head and hard walls surrounded me in all directions. I patted above me and to the sides, my palms slapping the satin lining of the crate. At first my brain wouldn’t process where I was. It churned on the idea, searching for any other logical conclusion.

“Not a crate,” I said. “A coffin.” Judging by the element of this challenge, I was buried alive.

I should have remained calm. I had, after all, everything I needed to save myself. It wasn’t enough. The memory of my time trapped in the mudslide came back to me. I was there again, crushed under a mountain of mud, skinless and blind. My heart pounded and I broke a sweat. I had to get out. I had to get out, NOW. I slapped the lid above, pounding on it with my fists.

“Help! Help!” I cried until I was hoarse. My hands bruised then bled, and tears streamed down my face. I kicked and scratched, my brain producing pictures of the miles of earth above me. No one could hear me scream. There was no Rick or Julius to rescue me. I gasped for breath, aware I was hyperventilating. Cupping my bloody palms over my face, I concentrated on slowing my breathing. “Just breathe,” I told myself.

The rush of air through my nose and out my mouth helped me find my center. I was not helpless. The earth was mine to command. Slowly, deliberately, I willed the dirt to move from above me to below me. My elevation happened mere inches at a time. I don’t know how long it took. It felt liked I’d been trapped in that box for days. Finally, light showed through a crack in the coffin lid. With one final push, I flipped the lid open and sat up.

So relieved was I to be free of the box, I climbed out onto my shaking and cramped limbs without assessing my surroundings. When I did, the gravestones lined up around me gave me pause. I could feel the dead calling to me under my bare feet. This was a cemetery, but not
my
cemetery. Not Monk’s Hill. It was someone else’s. Someone much more powerful.

The only door was one to a mausoleum, guarded by an ominous collection of gargoyles and hellhounds. It was cracked slightly, light as if from a flame filtering red and yellow through the opening. I stumbled forward, trembling. I wasn’t cold; I was scared and exhausted. If my ordeal with the elements was the appetizer, facing Hecate herself would be my undoing.

I approached the door anyway, relieved when the statues stayed statues. With my last ounce of strength and courage, I pushed open the heavy stone door.

“Welcome, child,” said an old woman’s voice.

Confused, I passed into a cozy room with a fireplace, candles, and a braided rug. It was homey and welcoming. Hecate, in the image of the old crone, sat in a rocking chair in front of the fire, what looked like knitting in her hands. She smiled at me and put her work aside, pulling a jagged black dagger from her long skirts. I expected her to attack me with it, but she didn’t.

Instead, she held the hilt of the blade out to me. Her smile was yellow and missing teeth. “Congratulations, Grateful Knight, you’ve passed the challenge. Now kill me and take your rightful place.”

Chapter 29

The Old Lady

I’
d never spoken to my mother in this form. I’d seen it those times when she’d appeared to me in all three versions of herself, but she’d always settled on the mother in the past. I’d heard it said the crone was her wisest incarnation, but also her most vulnerable. She hunched in her rocker in a black dress with a white lace collar, her fingers knotted and gnarled with age. She looked like a grandma, not a goddess. I struggled to wrap my head around the meaning of her words.