Portia (2 page)

I lean closer to the microphone. “There are four magical researchers who’ve done serious work on the Firmament. Two of these have theories I find useful.”

Gram slips up to my side, her face all smiles. She gently nudges me away from the mic. “My, that does sound interesting. Sadly, I’m afraid we’re nearly out of time.”

My brows lift with surprise. “It’s already been thirty minutes?”

“You’ve been up here for almost an hour, honey.”

An hour? I can’t believe it went by so quickly. The audience looks sleepy and dazed. My heart sinks. Maybe that last bit on magical researchers was too much. I turn to Gram and speak from side of my mouth. “What do I do next?”

“Perhaps you can take a few questions?” suggests Gram.

At these words, about a hundred hands zip up into the air at once. Gram gestures to a cute kid with a mop of ginger hair. “How about we start with this young gentleman?”

The boy bounces on his seat with excitement. He appears so sweet and harmless—all messy hair and freckles—that I take Gram’s suggestion.

“How about you?” I point to the boy. “What’s your question?”

The kid hops to his feet. “Where’s your tail?” As he speaks, the boy twists his own lizard tail between his fingertips. “Did it get cut off or something?”

A jolt of anxiety hits my bloodstream. The fact that I don’t have a tail really worries the general quasi population. “No, I was born without a tail.”

Some members of the audience shift, uncomfortable in their seats. I can almost see their commentary hovering above their heads in cartoon-type thought bubbles.
Real quasis have tails, end of story.

I worry my lower lip with my teeth. I need to lighten the mood here. I inspect the boy and guess why he asked the question in the first place. “But I bet I know someone who can lose their tail and regrow it.”

The kid’s eyes go big as saucers. “Yeah, I can.”

At this point, the boy looks totally adorable. The crowd lights up with happy faces. Some photographers crouch-walk closer to the boy, all the better to get a good shot. Flash bulbs go off like fireworks. My heart lightens. At last, a front-page picture that won’t make me cringe.

“Thank you, Princess,” says the kid.

I smile from ear to ear. This is totally working. Without thinking, I gesture to the man who’s next in line, his arm held high in the air.

“How about your question, Sir?”

The guy rises. “Roy Cotter, Purgatory Enquirer.”

My heart sinks to my toes. This creep is one of those reporter-stalkers who follow me around looking for tabloid headlines. They always print the same stuff—how any second now, I’ll turn into a demon, launch my secret plan, and overthrow Purgatory’s government. Not that I blame the quasi population for being jumpy. We had a demonic diplomat who seemed harmless—that would be Armageddon—and he ended up leading a marauding army through Purgatory.

Roy stares at me eagerly, his dark eyes glittering with excitement. How could I have missed him? He’s tall, bony, and has a scorpion’s tail. Not easy to forget.

“When will you turn into a Void demon, Princess?”

Gram leans into the microphone. “You know our official stance on this topic. My granddaughter has had a spell cast on her. She has some unfortunate marks. That is all.”

I press my lips together, hard. It’s all I can do not to scream the truth into the microphone. I am Marked for the Void. And worse than that, those monsters are destroying the after-realms. It’s only a question of when.

Maybe I can just say one little thing.

I raise my pointer finger. “Actually, when it comes to the Void—”

Gram grips my hand tightly, stopping me. A warning flashes in her brown eyes. I know that look. She doesn’t want me talking about the Void and the Firmament. Not yet, anyway. We need to know if it’s an imminent threat.

Roy glares at me, a challenge in his eyes. In the past, I’ve always agreed with Gram about holding off on the Void news until we had more specifics. But today, the truth bubbles up inside me, dying to get out.

“What do you say, Princess?” asks Roy. “Are you Marked for the Void or what?”

“I’m not here to disagree with the President,” I say carefully.

“Ha! That’s what we call a non-denial denial… Which means that you
do
think you’ll turn into one of the Void. Come on, we all know it.”

His words hit me like fists.
My tragedy is his next headline, nothing more.
My heart feels hollowed out and empty.

Gram sets her hand on my shoulder, gently pressing me away from the podium. “My granddaughter is not responding to that ridiculous accusation.”

Normally, this is the part where I stiffen my spine, shut my mouth, and tough it out. That isn’t happening this time around. Instead, something snaps inside me. There’s almost an audible ping through my soul. Suddenly, I’m sick to death of concealing everything that I am. The guy wants an answer? He’ll get one.

I lean into the mic. “No, I’ve got this.”

“If you’re sure, honey.”

“Positive.” Fresh rage corkscrews up my spine as I scan the audience. The anticipation turns so heavy, you could cut the air with a chainsaw. “Am I Marked to transform into a Void demon?” I drag out the moment for extra emphasis. “Absolutely.”

A chorus of gasps fills the room. It’s a satisfying sound.

“Perhaps we should end questions now,” says Gram.

“With all due respect, Madame President,” counters Roy. “The people of Purgatory have a right to know what’s happening with your granddaughter, especially since you let her run wild.” His mouth twists into a sneer. “We know what happens when a full-blooded demon goes free in Purgatory.”

More anger spikes through my soul. “Worrying about full-blooded demons is a waste of time. The real threat goes beyond Purgatory.”

The crowd gasps once more. Roy rocks happily on his heels. “Knew it! You’re planning to conquer the after-realms. It’s Armageddon all over again. This, my friends, is why full-blooded demons always have an armed guard.”

Rage jolts through every muscle in my body.
How can he be so blind?
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing!” I pound the lectern for emphasis. “I’ve researched this every way you can think of, and the fact that I’m Marked isn’t what’s important.” The audience stares at me, dumbfounded. “This is a sign. Someone’s warning us about the Void.”

Worried chatter breaks out through the crowd. Roy’s features brighten. He just got the scoop of a lifetime and he knows it. “Is that an official statement? You’re turning into one of the Void and know about their plans to attack.”

Rage seethes under my skin. “The Void are tearing apart the Firmament that holds the after-realms together,” I say. “That’s as official as it gets. Whether or not I’m one of them doesn’t make any difference.”

Gram wraps her arm around my shoulders. She’s the picture of smooth. “For the record, my granddaughter is an expert on magic, not a representative of the government of Purgatory. If she has reason to believe that the Void are a threat, then I’m sure she has the documentation to support her claim. However, that does not mean that threat is immediate.”

Roy starts to talk again, but Gram simply raises her hand and speaks in a deadly soft voice. “That’s enough. I realize the quasi are wary of full-blooded demons. That’s why I’ve supported the Senate’s regulations on keeping them guarded within our borders. But to extend this scenario to my granddaughter is simply unacceptable.” Her tone says that this is not up for discussion. “The lecture is over. We’ll now retire to the gardens for more refreshments.”

For the first time, I notice a series of servants standing by the French doors that line one wall of the ballroom. Acting in unison, they motion the crowd to step out into the gardens. The audience leaves so quickly, it’s like a gunshot went off in the ballroom.

Gram pulls me aside and kisses my cheek. “That was a solid step forward, honey.”

I lift my eyebrows in disbelief. “That was an all-out catastrophe, Gram.”

“Give it time. Today, the quasi people saw that you’re impassioned about their welfare. They didn’t see a demon; they saw a young woman with a good heart.”

Her words soothe my frazzled nerves. My anger cools, only to be replaced by a hot wave of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry I let loose on the Void. I know we agreed to keep it a secret.”

“It’s fine.” Gram stiffens her spine. “More than fine, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re way past due to start messaging this to the general population. Xav’s been on me about it for ages. I just wish we knew the timeline we’re looking at.”

“I’ll finish the spell soon. I promise.”

Gram sets her palm on my cheek. “You’ve such a good heart. Whoever cast that spell on you, they knew what they were doing.” She runs her fingertips along my marks. “There’s no one better to find out what’s happening with the Firmament.”

Warmth and pride seep through my chest. “Thanks, Gram.”

“Why don’t you take a break first? Xav told me that he found you some new magic books.”

My eyes widen with excitement. “The medieval alchemy series?”

“That’s the one.” She gives me another quick peck on my cheek. “They’re on the desk in his office.”

“I’ll stop by right away.”

“Great idea.” She makes shoo fingers at me. “Now, take the rest of the afternoon off. You deserve it.”

Gram walks away while glad-handing everyone in sight. Turning on my heel, I beeline toward my grandfather’s office in the Ryder mansion.

Alchemy books, here I come.

Chapter Two

I quickly find the office. It’s the only one with a snarky poster on the door: a pic of a rainstorm with a caption that reads ‘Purgatory, because sunshine is for losers.’

I knock lightly. “Hello Pops? Are you here?”

No response.

The door’s unlocked so I walk right in. The place is decorated in all manly man stuff: leather club chairs, recessed lighting, and dark violet walls. There’s even a wide balcony that makes it easier for him to land, angel-style.

I spot the alchemy books right away. The leather-bound volumes sit in a neat stack on his mahogany desk. I gently turn the old vellum pages and marvel at the illustrations. Reading a book is like coming home. Everything’s warm and cozy. If only people could be that way.

Something rustles on the balcony. I set aside the book to check things out. Peering through the balcony’s glass doors, I find someone waiting outside: a muscular guy with black tousled hair. He wears jeans, biker boots, and a leather jacket. He’s a total bad boy and a handsome one, too.

Wait, what?

I never go for the bad boy type. I like my men clean-shaven and buttoned up with nothing out of place. You know, the kind of guy who irons his jeans. Sure, those men look at me in horror, but at least they’re usually polite about it. I consider that a win.

I frown. Chances are, this guy will react the same as all the others. I should walk away. There’s a reason I’m nineteen and I’ve never had a full conversation with a man who’s not a relative. I nod once to myself, the decision made. I am definitely leaving right now.

For some reason, I don’t go anywhere.

Instead, I keep right on staring. The guy leans casually against the outer wall of the mansion, his right boot propped against the brick siding. His long, black tail sways lazily behind him. I give myself a mental kick in the butt.

You need to leave.
Go, go, go!

I do no such thing.

Not only do I stay in place; I try for a better view. No matter how I shift, I can’t see the guy’s face. My skin tingles with curiosity.

Screw it. I’m going in.

Part of me knows that this is a big mistake, but I can’t stop myself for some reason. With silent steps, I walk onto the balcony. Instantly, an electric awareness charges the air between us. The guy starts turning toward me, and then stops. Moving slightly, he refocuses his gaze on the line of trees. Rain patters on the tin canopy that stretches above our heads.

There’s no question about it. I saw that half-look. This guy totally knows I’m here. Still, he doesn’t turn to greet me. Instead, he stares off into the trees, his tousled black hair hanging over his eyes.

For a full minute, I look the guy over. He’s well over six feet tall with broad shoulders that are more than twice as wide as mine. From the way he stands to the set of his jawline, every inch of him exudes confidence, power, and trouble.

“Hi.” My voice comes out about an octave higher than normal.

Smooth, Portia.

The Mystery Man slowly turns to face me. At last, I get the close-up I’ve been craving. The man has intelligent brown eyes, a nose that’s been broken a few times, and scar along his strong jawline. The imperfections only make him more appealing. He watches my stare and bit by bit, his full mouth arches into a crooked smile. Butterflies take up residence in my stomach.

“Hullo, luv.” His accent is British, deep and hypnotic. Surprisingly, those words aren’t accompanied by any signs of terror. It’s dumbfounding. I stare at him for way too long without saying anything.

Start talking, Portia.

I revert to the basics. This is Pops’ office, after all. “Is the Archangel Xavier expecting you?”

A mischievous light twinkles in his liquid-brown eyes. “Without a doubt. Are you here to keep me company while I wait?”

A jolt of happiness moves through me. He doesn’t seem frightened of me, but maybe he hasn’t noticed my marks yet. It’s a little dark out here.

“Sure, I can stay with you, but…” I gesture around my eye and wince, waiting for the terrified look to cross his face. “That’s only if you don’t mind.”

His smile doesn’t waver. “That you’re a Princess?”

“What?” I must have heard him wrong. “Did you say Princess?”

“That I did. Princess Portia. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Sure, that’s me. That’s not what I meant, though. It’s my marks. They make everyone nervous. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Not that you look uncomfortable. I was just checking.”

Wow. Babble much?

I decide that now is a great time to look at my sensible shoes and plot my quick escape.