Portia (8 page)

“No, but I’ve heard about it. The gates enclose a dream catcher.”

My lips form a silent ‘o.’ I’ve read about places like this. Dreams get stuck in here. Nightmares, too.

He shoots me a wry smile. “Once we cross the Onyx gates, it won’t take long for our old nightmares to find us.”

I set the sphere onto my palms. The threads of wicker weave into the words ‘The Library floor.’ “I guess we need to find The Library, whatever that means.”

The gates open with a long creak. Tempest and I step past the threshold and into the realm of a dream catcher. A red door appears in the mist. I look around. There’s nothing but cloud for miles in every direction. We open the door and step inside.

It leads us to my bedroom in Purgatory. Another version of me—a dream-self—lies asleep in bed, tossing under the crisp, white sheets. A chill crawls over my skin.

Something is wrong here. Very wrong.

Leave this place now, Portia.

Turning on my heel, I look for the exit. There isn’t one anymore. I check out the walls and pull back the curtains. All the windows and exits have disappeared. I bang the plaster with the palm of my hand. “Open up!”

Meanwhile, my dream-self twists from side to side, still trapped in her sleep.

I round on Tempest, my heart thudding so hard I can feel its beat in my throat. “I have to get out of here!”

Tempest steps to stand before me. He keeps his hands at waist level, palms forward, as if I’m a wild animal that could bolt any second.

“It doesn’t work that way in a dream catcher. You know this, luv.”

I force myself to inhale a few calming breaths.
Think, Portia. Tempest is right.

“Right,” I say, forcing my breaths to slow. “We have to wait.”

“That’s correct.” Tempest gestures toward my dream-self. “And don’t talk to her unless you have to. We’ll both watch for a new door to open.”

My dream-self thrashes harder under the sheets. Icy fear twists through my stomach.

Danger, Portia. Run!

“I don’t like this, Tempest.”

“Have you dreamt this scene before?”

“Not that I remember.”

All of a sudden, my dream-self sits bolt upright in bed. She clutches her elbows as her shoulders tremble.

“Who’s there?” she asks.

“It’s just me,” I say. “Portia. You’re asleep.”

Bit by bit, my dream-self turns toward me. When I see her, alarm rattles up my spine. Her eyes are a gooey shade of black. Dark tears ooze down her trembling face. I know that transformation. Every cell in my body goes on alert. Now, I know what’s happening in this nightmare.

I’m turning into the Void. My limbs shudder with fear.

My dream-self reaches forward blindly. “Whoever you are, I can’t see you. What’s happening?” She reaches forward, her fingertips groping the empty air. The nails slowly darken with ooze. As my dream-self moans in horror, her body mutates into more blackened sludge. She tries to pull herself out of the bed, but her gooey legs won’t carry her weight. Instead, she tumbles onto the floor, weeping in terror.

I rush to kneel by her side. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s only a dream.” I pat her quickly blackening hair. My fingertips come away covered in foul ooze. “I won’t let this happen to you.”

In reply, my dream-self curls onto her side and wails. “I’m doomed to turn into a demon. There’s no avoiding that fate when you’re Marked.”

My eyes sting with tears as my voice grows louder. “I’m fighting this. We’re fighting this. You’re not turning into the Void. None of this is real.”

But even as the words leave my lips, I know that it’s all a lie. There’s no guarantee I can save the after-realms, let alone myself.

Before me, my dream-self gasps for breath. Her lips and teeth blacken as air gurgles thickly in her chest. I stare into her dark eyes as her body splatters into the floor and disappears like a raindrop striking the pavement.

It happened. Maybe it was only a dream; it took place all the same. I saw myself transform into a Void demon.

Sitting back, I stare at my hands. Dark ooze is still there, slowly seeping into my skin. Maybe it’s always been part of me. One day, it will fully claim my soul and I’ll become a nameless, mindless demon gnawing on the Firmament; that is, if there’s any left to consume. I’ll never get out of this alive. Who am I to think I can help the after-realms when I can’t save myself?

Tempest kneels beside me. He tentatively extends his hand toward me. I know he what he wants, and part of me wants to hold his hand, too.

The ache in my chest intensifies, but this is all too much, too soon. Besides, I don’t even know why he cares about me or this quest. I give him the barest shake of my head.

No, don’t come any nearer.

Tempest nods and lowers his hands. His demeanor mixes patience with concern. “You all right, luv? Talk to me.”

When I speak, my voice cracks with despair. “Many people get Marked, and none of them get free. Even if I save the after-realms, chances are, I’ll still change into a demon. Why am I bothering to fight this?”

Tempest leans in closer. “Listen to me carefully,” he says. “The world is filled with people who tell you things are impossible and to give up. But that’s only because they’ve already given up on themselves. Now, I don’t know what the future holds. I do know that you’re brilliant, Portia.”

Our gazes lock. Somehow, his mouth moved until it’s only inches away from mine. I want to run my fingers along the square line of his jaw, run my palm across the scruff of his cheek. I want to touch his bare skin. A sense of excitement fills the air. Something else is there as well. There’s that same patience that I first felt when meeting Tempest on the balcony. He’s waiting for me to make the first move.

Maybe I will. Chances are, I’m just acting crazy by trying to stop whatever it is that’s happening between us.

I start to move my hand forward when a loud wail echoes through the walls of my dream-penthouse. At first, I think it might be my dream-self again. I shake my head. It can’t be me. That’s a young boy screaming. Tempest’s mouth thins to an angry line.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask.

“I do.”

My pulse beats at double-speed. “What does it mean?” Please, don’t let it mean that I have to confront another version of myself transforming into the Void. Not sure I can handle that right now.

“That it’s my turn.”

The wail sounds once more. Muscles twitch along Tempest’s jaw. Heat and rage pour off his body. Turning, Tempest looks over his shoulder. Where a smooth stretch of wall once stood, there’s now a heavy iron door set into the plasterboard. Dragon runes have been roughly carved into the metal surface. I can translate them easily. They say one simple word: Dungeon.

Tempest stands. “Wait here. I’ll take care of this.”

“Not a chance. I’m going with you.”

“This is the dungeon where my father held me as a child. You know the story?”

I nod. “Maxon told me.”

“This dream is a familiar one,” continues Tempest. “Chimera will be in the dungeon with me as a lad. I’m never able to fight.” A low growl sounds in his voice as he adds, “That won’t happen this time. I’ll fight him.”

I rise to stand beside him. “Good.”

Tempest scans me carefully. “So, what are you saying?”

“If anyone tries to hurt you, then I want a piece of them, too.”

“You sound protective, Portia.” A low growl sounds in Tempest’s chest. I like that growl. In fact, I like it way too much for my own good.

My cheeks flush red. “That’s what friends do for each other, right? We have each other’s backs.”

“Right.” He keeps staring at me with such intensity, it’s like I’m the center of the universe. For someone like me, this much attention is intoxicating.

Time to move on.

I gesture toward the door. “Lead the way.”

Stepping forward, Tempest grips the door’s heavy iron handle and hauls on it with all his strength. Little by little, the door swings open, revealing a long and low hallway made of rough gray stone. More iron doors line the walls on either side, separated by burnt-down torches.

As Tempest and I step down the long passageway, grimy hands grasp at the small barred openings atop each metal door. Desperate voices plead for water, mercy, and even death. The stench of decay and sick assaults my senses.

“Follow me,” murmurs Tempest. “Last cell on the right.”

It takes only a few minutes to reach the last cell. The journey seems to last much longer. The suffering and stench of this dungeon is beyond anything I could have imagined. Nausea twists through my stomach.

We step through the prison door to enter Tempest’s old cell.

Like in the dream of my penthouse bedroom, the prison cell door disappears the moment we pass through it. Once we’re inside Tempest’s old dungeon, we’re trapped with no way to escape. And when I look around the cell, escape seems like a good idea.

A scrawny teenage boy cowers on the grimy stone floor. He’s curled up onto his side, his eyes staring forward, unblinking. His skin is mottled with angry red marks. I’ve seen those before in medical books. They’re acid burns.

A man looms over the boy’s body. It’s Chimera. The bottom half of Tempest’s father is humanoid, wearing simple britches and tall boots. The rest of Chimera is covered in dragon scales. Three different serpent-style heads jut out of his chest. All of those snake-like eyes are now focused on Tempest and me.

My legs tremble with fear as everything I’ve read about the last Furor Emperor flips through my memory. Chimera has three heads, and each one carries a different kind of venom sac. The first holds poison, the second creates a paralytic, and the third shoots acid. My breath catches as I think about the frozen boy and Chimera’s powers. Tempest’s father shot paralytic at his own son. After that, Chimera dripped acid onto his boy’s unmoving skin. I suck in a rasping, horrified breath. My poor Tempest. How could anyone do this to a child?

Chimera’s heads all tilt in unison. “Are you lost?” they all ask in a hissing, sing-song voice. My skin crawls at the sound.

The grown Tempest balls his hands into angry fists. “Not at all,” he growls.

The boy on the floor twitches. On reflex, I kneel at his side and start casting healing spells. Like always, the words get tied up on my tongue, but I’m able to see some of the terror seep out of his eyes, at least.

Chimera inhales a long breath and keeps staring at the grown Tempest. “I know your scent. You’re Firelord, like me.” He sniffs again. “And you’re close to my bloodline.”

Tempest’s features stay still as stone. “I’m your son.”

“You’re him?” He gestures to the paralyzed boy. “The one I call the little teapot? He’s so fragile, he could be made of porcelain. Somehow, I never tire of breaking him, though.” The trio of heads lets out a sinister laugh. “And that’s you?”

My hands clench into angry fists. When I want on patrol before, I’ve always shied away from killing demons. But killing Chimera? That wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’m Emperor now. And my name is Tempest.”

“Bah, I don’t believe it. The little teapot? Never.”

It takes everything I have not to launch into this guy and kick him in the head. Tempest looks at me, his features bright with held-in rage. He shakes his head. It’s the barest motion. I know the meaning, though.

I got this, Portia.

Tempest rounds on his father. “You were a sorry excuse for a dragon before you took the crown. Spineless and weak. Becoming Emperor changed you into a greater demon and a bully to boot.”

Chimera’s heads flick backward in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“Mum. You don’t remember her, but she remembered you all right. Before your change, you barely had one head, let alone three.”

Chimera’s heads swivel, looking between the frozen boy and grown man. “It’s not possible.”

“Why is so hard to believe that I would change when I accepted my role as Emperor? All it takes is a few short words.”

My gaze falls to the skinny boy lying immobile and terrified on the dungeon floor. That boy accepted his role as emperor, and then he became a greater demon. But instead of gaining extra heads like Chimera, Tempest will add body mass and magical powers. I shake my head in awe. No one would have thought this boy would become the man who stands beside me.

Chimera’s many mouths frown at once. “So you’re called Tempest now, is that it? Becoming a greater demon got some magic to you. Added a few pounds and inches, too. And now, you’ve come to fight your old man.”

“Something like that.”

I stand closer to Tempest and lift my chin defiantly. “He isn’t here alone. Tempest has friends.”

Chimera’s heads chuckle darkly. “A friend? I’m quite sure that’s all you are.”

“Leave her out of this,” growls Tempest.

“Then don’t waste any more of my time, boy. Say your piece and go.”

“I will. With relish. Know this. I’ve undone every act that you deemed important. There are no more blood purges. No more destroying Furorling in a race to create a world of purebred dragons.”

Chimera points straight at me. My throat tightens with a mixture of fear and rage. “Is that why you bring this mouthy Furorling wench before me?” His heads sniff the air wildly. “Why, you haven’t even claimed her! In my day, I’d have rutted her first and killed her second.”

It takes everything I have not to gasp in shock and fear. Still, I’m somehow able to keep my head high. Whatever happens, I won’t let this freak know that he got to me. Tempest deserves that from a friend.

“Your day is over.” Tempest gestures around the room. “And these very dungeons where you tortured me? They now overflow with your old followers. Anyone who worshipped the extremes of lust and wrath has been locked up and left to rot.”

“Lies!” Chimera’s eyes now blaze red with demonic rage. “I’ll live for a thousand years.”

“Actually, my grandfather Xavier fights you at the Battle of the Gates. He knocks you of the sky and you fall into a hole in the ground called Charybdis. After that, you’re trapped for five hundred years until my brother releases you. In case you’re wondering.”

“Her brother brings you to me, and you die at my hand.”