Pretty Dark Sacrifice (8 page)

Crossing the thin veil that separated them felt like being dragged over a floor of sharp daggers. It hurt, more than anything he’d ever experienced, but he kept pushing his essence forward. Every spasm of agony was worth it if only he could touch her. She stepped closer, and the smell of her shampoo, vanilla and strawberry, enveloped him.

Lightning struck when Quinn’s eyes found his, and his roaming spirit solidified with the power of their connection. A connection so strong, Aaron felt the warm longing of her heartbeat. Hope surged through him, and he reached out for her.

“Quinn,” Aaron begged.

She called his name and stretched a hand to him. All he wanted to do was fall into her arms and breathe her in, to feel her touch, to be alive, to be home, but a force stronger than anything he’d known before tethered him to the black hole. Even now, he could feel a cold suction at his back; he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. Nearly there, a few more millimeters, and her skin would brush his.

“Quinn!” Too late. Every atom inside him split apart as the force of the vortex dragged him back through the veil. The red door slammed in his face, separating him from his realm forever.

Hate writhed in the pit of his stomach as he fell, fast and heavy. The pain of his skin ripping to shreds was nothing compared to the ache of being so near Quinn, yet dimensions away. Trapped in a vacuum, the pressure pulled him deeper and deeper into darkness, and Aaron had no power to stop it. Now he was nothing but a stone cast from heaven to burn up in the fire of his descent, and he wondered if he would ever hit bottom.

“Aaron! Wait!” Quinn stumbled forward, hands outstretched, her fingers grasping at the empty air. A trickle of tears grew to a flood. Quinn couldn’t stop herself from drowning in emotion. He was physically gone, but his presence was everywhere. She could smell his damp, earthy scent on her clothes, in her hair, as if she’d been swimming in a river.

Quinn. You’re losing control. Keep your barrier up,
Azrael hissed, one sword coming loose from his scabbard, but it was too late. Coils of fog exploded from the graves around her, too many to count. They were surrounded. When Azrael slashed at one, two more sprang from the earth.

I can’t.
A million cold lances pierced through her exposed mind at once, digging deep beneath her thoughts. Quinn tried to picture a wall of light, but there were too many, and she couldn’t break away. Tears stung her eyes. Iced wind and dark shadows swirled around her, catching her scarf, knotting the ends of her hair.

The Qeres dagger burned against Quinn’s calf, calling to be freed. Reaching inside her boot, she slipped the blade from its sheath, but before she could use it, shadowy ropes punched through the dirt on either side, grabbed her ankles, and yanked her feet out from under her. She tumbled backward, the wind knocked from her lungs as the dagger was knocked from her hand.

Whispers, a dozen overlapping, accusing voices swarmed her ears, and her palms pushed to keep them out. Weight like that of a thousand cinder blocks dragged at her limbs, and she jerked sideways, her cheek planting in the mud.

Digging deep, Quinn searched for a spark, anything she could grab onto to bring her defenses back up, but she couldn’t focus. The demons were everywhere, slithering inside her mind, confusing her, distracting her.

Whips of fog twined around her body, binding her inch-by-inch with living rope, just as they had in her earliest nightmares, but this wasn’t a dream. She kicked and flailed, but the fog entombed her. Tendrils of living rope coiled around her throat. She screamed, but the noose pulled tight, digging into her windpipe, cutting her cry short. Rolling on her back, she clawed at her throat as the tendrils snaked across her neck and mouth. Fingers of gray mist tied around her wrists and pulled her arms flat to the ground, binding her fast.

Marcus, Reese, and Jenna were all on their feet now, staring at Quinn, eyes wide. Quinn wanted to scream at all of them to run, but the demons reached into her mouth and stilled her tongue.

Dark shapes swarmed her, crawling over her body, sucking at her essence. Azrael’s swords glowed and arched as he hacked away at them, but they kept coming, swarming him, pushing him back, and separating her from her protector one inch at a time.

Marcus rushed to her side, confused at seeing his friend flung around by an invisible force. Quinn shook her head in warning, too late. A hooded figure rose behind him and plunged a dark hand straight into this heart, stopping him cold. Black pupils ate all the white around his eyes as the demon forced its way inside, possessing him.

“I should have saved him that night, not you. You should have been left to rot at the bottom of the river.” It was Marcus’s voice, but with all the usual warmth and charm drained from the tone. Reese and Jenna circled in from the other side.

You are but one, we are many.
Reese’s lips curled into a snarl. She knelt next to Quinn, eyes full of ink. The demon had a full hold on her now. It cocked her best friend’s head.

Leave her alone.
Quinn squirmed and kicked against her misty bonds.

You all called us here, and we came at your invitation. Do not be a bad hostess. Let us feed. We are so hungry.

You want to feed? Take me, but leave her alone. I have so much more to give than she does. Can’t you feel it?
Quinn stopped struggling and brought all her emotions to the surface. The pain of it was almost unbearable, but she lay perfectly still and didn’t hold anything back.

Reese leaned into Quinn and sniffed her neck.
So dark, so good.

It was working. Quinn sensed the demon’s greed, and she drew on all the pain and sadness that had leaked into the cemetery’s soil. So much death, so many loved ones lost. Tragedy, anger—she took it all in and fed it back to the demons. None of them could resist. Drunk on the darkness spilling from Quinn, they surrounded her on all sides to lap it up. Ink spilled from Reese’s mouth, and she fell to the ground as the demon abandoned her friend’s body to seize on Quinn’s misery.

Distracted, the ropes holding her wrists loosened, and Quinn inched toward the glowing dagger to her right. Fingers brushed the handle. She might be a killer, but so were they. Aaron’s death was as much their fault as it was hers, and they would pay. Never again would she let them control her, let them turn her into a whining wreck of a girl. The shadows shimmered and vibrated as she harnessed the thought of Aaron sinking to his death, his sacrifice, his ultimate love.

The dagger slammed into the center of the beast that had possessed Reese. It hissed and dissipated into wisps of smoke. This woke the others from their food coma, and they started to back away from her in confusion. Azrael seized the opportunity, his sword taking down at least half a dozen beasts in seconds.

Now. While they’re distracted.

Three breaths brought up her armor, and she sprang into a crouch, dagger at the ready.

The atmosphere around Quinn crackled with her one wish—to kill them all. Fixing her glare on the shadow to her right, she held it suspended with her mind. It squirmed against her power, pushing to free itself, looking for a crack in her barrier. She felt its malicious intent. Its fear tangled with loathing.

Killing us won’t bring the boy back. No one is safe from his fate. He has gone to meet my maker. A soul for a soul. Yours for his. A soul for a soul. Dead is dead.

It laughed. Quinn gritted her teeth and pinned its dark essence against a crumbling headstone with nothing but a thought, its name coming to her lips as if she’d known it her whole life.

Call it by name, finish it,
Azrael urged.

“Erithea.” She pointed at the shadow hanging in mid-air and released her anger at the beast. “Go to hell.” A beam of light exploded from the tips of Quinn’s fingers, piercing Erithea and cutting his morbid life short.

Quinn’s heart pounded against her ribs. The kickback of expending all that pent up emotion rattled her. She had banished a demon. Satisfaction twisted her lips into a wicked grin as she sank to the ground, all her energy spent. So that was what she could do.

Seething hate emanated from the remaining demons as they fled in the wake of her power and the tip of Azrael’s sword.

“Quinn,” Aaron rasped her name and swallowed the bits of gravel lodged in his throat. Only the echo of water droplets hitting rock answered him. She wasn’t there, never had been. The portals, his funeral, Quinn, it was nothing but a dream, a nightmare. He was back where he started.

A fever, that was all. The fire inside died, leaving nothing but a hollow husk of skin and bone lying face down and shivering, spread-eagle against the cold stone beneath him. Every inch of Aaron’s body felt bruised and weak as his awareness returned, nerve-by-nerve. How long had he been lying here? Days? Minutes?

Ignoring the situation won’t make it go away. If you don’t try, you’ll never find a way out of this mess. What did Mom always say? Seeing the problem is the first step to finding a solution. Stop being a coward.

It took all his strength to force his eyes open, his lids ripping from the tender cornea. He blinked in the moist, cool air until the irritating particles washed away in a flood of salty tears. When the streaming stopped, and he regained focus, all he saw was an endless void of darkness spinning out before him.

Oh, my God! I’m blind! I’m blind and alone and probably bleeding and broken. Shit. I knew it.
His heart rattled against his chest, and his lungs constricted.

Don’t panic. It’s dark. That’s all. It doesn’t mean you’re blind. You have to move, or you’ll die here.

And how am I supposed to do that when I can’t see a hair in front of me!
His thoughts fractured into two opposing sides, the optimist and the pessimist.
Not to mention the fact that I used up all my energy opening my eyes.

Don’t panic. It’s not that bad.

Not that bad? Really? How could it be worse?

You could be nothing.

At least if I were nothing, I wouldn’t be so afraid.

Arguing with himself seemed crazy, but it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He had nobody else to rely on or to council with.

That’s a laugh. Don’t you remember how terrified you were the last time you died? This doesn’t feel anything like that. If we’re dead, where’s the light?

He doubted there would be any lights in hell but pushed away the thought as soon as it reared its head. Metaphorically, hell was exactly where he was right now.

Listen. There’s water dripping in the distance. The water must be getting in from somewhere. So if there was a way in, there’s a way out.

Yes. Yes.
His thoughts finally made sense, worked together.

Aaron shivered. Not a scrap of clothing covered his body. Whatever happened to him stripped him of every stitch, as well as his dignity. In a different situation, he might have been embarrassed, but he was too exhausted and frightened to care. He would worry about clothes later. For now, he had to get moving and get out.