Desolate (Desolation) (5 page)

Miri watched me, reading me as well as any demon could. She nodded. “Well, as I was having this awesome conversation with myself, I found the perfect scene for us to do.”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“Ophelia’s mad scene.” She threw her hands up in the air in a
ta da!
sort of way. “You know. From Hamlet?”

Yeah, I knew the scene. Knew it really well. I’d actually met Ophelia—and so had Shakespeare. She was this totally beautiful girl who Shakespeare loved madly. Except Ophelia was, well, crazy. Seriously. And she wasn’t nice. What Shakespeare ever saw in her, I had no idea because Ophelia was one of the cruelest people I’d ever met in Hell. Shakespeare thought she’d committed suicide, but her death had only been made to look that way.

In reality, she’d been murdered by the father of a young boy Ophelia had abducted and . . . done stuff to. Like I said. Seriously messed up.

I shivered involuntarily and Miri said, “Yeah, it’s so creepy. That’s why I think it’d be perfect.”

“Well, which one? The bawdy singing and dancing scene or the one where she hands out flowers?”

Miri looked at me as if I were stupid for having to ask.

“Then a modern retelling for sure.” I threw my arms out to the side. “‘You promised me to wed. So would I have done, by yonder sun. And thou hadst not come to my bed,’” I added in a sing-song voice. And then I realized the entire room was dead silent. Because everyone was watching me.

“Whoa,” Miri said.

I covered my face with my hands.

chapter seven

“Anything?” Longinus asked in his usual clipped manner. He definitely didn’t mince words, that guy. I had barely set my bag down before he spoke.

I shook my head as I dropped into a chair, pulled my knees to my chest and draped my school sweater over my bare legs. Resting my cheek on my knee I fixed my gaze on the tapestry of the Tree of Life—or Ygdrisyll, really. The world tree.

Silence waited until I lifted my head and looked around. “What?”

“Tell us,” Knowles said from his shadowy corner.

“There isn’t anything to tell. I stayed out most of the night, and I watched. I watched and watched and watched. I’m telling you—there was nothing.”

Knowles didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Just stared.

“Really,” I finally said. “Nothing happened, no one showed up—no creepy gray guy on a creepy gray horse.”

“But?” Knowles prompted. Sometimes I hated him. Seriously. He would stare me down until I gave in. I decided to save myself the trouble.

“It was just . . .” I pressed my forehead to my knees, wishing I could disappear. “There was this faintest feeling of Hell. That’s it.”

Longinus pushed himself away from the wall. “What do you mean? Did the horseman come, or no?”

“No, no,” Cornelius said, lifting his glasses from where they hung against his chest. “She said she saw no one, and I believe her. But, you say you
felt
something?” He added the last with a softer tone, meant to draw me out of myself. And it worked. I knew his kind face would be waiting for me when I looked up. Knew that I could tell him.

“Yeah. From the ocean—it felt like . . . well, it felt like Hell. Like a Door. But how could there be a Door to Hell in the bay? Heimdall guards the path between the worlds—he would only do it for a god and despite what Father pretends, he’s not a true god. The only other Door to Hell on Earth is the one Heimdall opened when Midgard was created—when all the Doors to the Nine Worlds were created. But the Door to Helheimer’s been destroyed. Right?” I aimed that question at Knowles, who leaned forward on his knees, his hands twisting, twisting, twisting, between them.

“The Door’s been destroyed, right?” I repeated. My tone had bite, a promise of pain should he attempt to deceive me.

“That Door . . . has been damaged, yes.”

“
That
Door—damaged.”

“Yes.” Knowles refused to meet my gaze.

“Damaged.” I paused for his reluctant nod. “And are there others?”

He raised his eyes to mine. “I swear I don’t know much more than that—the only thing I have heard is that Loki has created another Door, another bridge between his world and ours.”

“How is that possible?” Longinus’ words lashed into the room like the crack of a whip. Startled, Miri jumped so high she nearly dropped her laptop.

“How is what possible?” James stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Knowles says Lucifer’s opened another Door,” Miri said, reaching out to James. He took her hand and sat down beside her.

“Damn,” James said.

Damn didn’t even begin to cover it.

“What do you mean, Knowles? Spit it out.” I stood, rigid as Longinus, both of us facing the ancient demon, ready to pummel the truth out of him if necessary.

“I don’t know anything more than that. I’m not even sure if it’s true. I overheard that—that
boy
. The one with the disturbing followers.”

“Eleon.” Hatred for that creature welled up inside me like a black tide.

Knowles nodded. “I heard him talking with Taige, the girl with the blood tattoos. He told her Lucifer had succeeded in opening another Door and that he thought he could introduce her to the master soon. Of course that’s a lie. Lucifer would never agree to such a thing. So perhaps there is no truth in the Door’s existence, either.” He said it, but he tugged at his short-cropped beard in a way that suggested he didn’t really believe it.

“I’ll talk to him.” I didn’t wait for their permission, just grabbed my bag and left the room.

The halls were empty and my sneakers squeaked on the linoleum. I wished for my Docs—right about now, the sharp drum beat of stomping boots would be a comfort.

I slipped into the girls’ bathroom, making certain there were no witnesses. I set my bag down and closed my eyes. It was effortless now, the Becoming. Dark or Light, it didn’t seem to matter—a simple command, a call to action, and my power was there, Shadow or Halo or . . . whatever you called the hybrid I’d Become. But this time I sought the gifts of my shadow-self and reached out for the demon named Eleon.

There
.

I ran for my car, stashed my bag inside, then ducked behind a crypt and closed my eyes once more. This time I embraced all that I was and Became.

Seconds of exhilarating flight, not caring who might glimpse me as I slipped through the twilight sky, and I arrived at a one-room guest cottage on the grounds of a local mansion. Hearing the voices of a boy and girl inside, my stomach turned. I stepped onto the porch and with a thrust of my power, blew the heavy wooden door inward in a shower of sparks and splintered wood.

“What the—” Eleon wheeled around, not bothering to cover himself, while the girl shrieked and pulled the blanket up to her chin, scooting against the headboard in one smooth movement.

“Desolation.” Eleon slipped from the bed and fell to one knee, his fist to his chest in the manner of Akaros’ Spartans—an affectation I felt sure. There was nothing of Akaros in this weakling.

I withdrew my power just enough that it no longer held physical form, but still had presence in the room. I could feel Eleon’s desire to call upon his own Shadow, but he resisted.
So there is some steal in him after all.

“Princess. To what do I owe this honor?” He still hadn’t looked up, still had his eyes glued to the floor, but the harshness in his voice belied his obeisance. He had no real respect for me—any honor he afforded me was for my father. He, like many others, questioned why Father had not disowned me since my betrayal.

I flicked my eyes to the girl—Vamp-Girl from the library yesterday. “Leave.”

She practically flew from the bed, barely stopping long enough to pull on the most necessary of clothing before dashing for the door. I stood in the small entryway to the studio cottage. The girl hesitated, clearly unwilling to get close to me, but unsure how she could leave without doing so.

I made no move to give her more room.

When she passed, she stepped through the reach of my Shadow and bit back a cry. It would have been nearly unbearable for her—like a zillion ice crystals beating against her skin, each as sharp as a well-turned blade. To her credit, she did not run.

At least, not until her feet fell on the driveway. Then she ran at break-neck speed, not once looking back.

Belatedly, I realized it hadn’t been wise to watch the girl, when I should have been watching the demon, but when I turned back to him, he hadn’t moved. Still, I would have to be careful of such slip-ups in the future. Father would never turn his back on a subject—especially one who had such open disdain for him.

“Rise,” I said, my voice a dark version of its true tenor.

Eleon looked up in surprise, but stood nonetheless. No doubt he wondered why I would afford him a position of such equality, but I had my reasons. He reached for his pants, but I said, “Leave them.”

Fury darkened his features as he acknowledged the position I’d put him in. That while I bade him stand, he was nothing more than a naked, vulnerable creature before me. The shadow of my glory stretched out behind me like the vestments of a queen, while Eleon stood, stripped of everything. No Shadow. No clothing. No dignity.

“The Door,” I said. “Tell me.”

His gaze jumped to the cottage door, but it wasn’t for clarification or any misunderstanding as to which door I meant. I think it surprised him and he wondered how much he should tell me. Or whether he could get away with a lie.

Stepping forward, I lifted my
left
hand, grateful I’d been able to hold my Halo at bay. Though my skin didn’t darken like other demons when I embraced my Shadow, the curls of black ice on my skin resonated with power—far more than this lowly demon would ever dream of possessing.

Beyond the reach of my hand, my Shadow stretched, until I pressed a cold, shadow-hand against
Eleon
’s forehead.

“Tell me,” I commanded. He had no choice but to obey.

“Lucifer created a Door—a new one. And it works.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said, feigning confidence. I couldn’t leave any impression that I felt thoroughly confused and stunned by this revelation. Which I was. “Where is it?”

“Be-beneath the bay, near the bridge.” I’d never heard of an underwater Door before. That Father had managed such a thing filled my mind with endless questions. I pressed forward, willing my Shadow to creep into the demon’s mind. His mouth fell open in a soundless scream.

How?
I asked with the resonate voice of my spirit. Beads of sweat popped out on Eleon’s face, and his body trembled with the power of my touch.

He did not impress me. Pale and hairless, his well-toned muscles did little to compensate for what he lacked in manhood. I could have laughed—instead, I pressed deeper into his mind.

“He-he captured Heimdall!”

My grip on his mind faltered.

Heimdall, the giant god of the Bifrost. He had held his post since time immemorial—older even than Odin. The god of time and space, god of the past and future, Heimdall held the gate between all the worlds.
How was such a thing done?

Eleon fell to his knees, blood trickling from his nose and ears. “I-I don’t know! I ha-I haven’t been home in years. Lucifer has not permitted it. I swear to you! I don’t know!”

His words rang true. More than he even realized. So he’d been cast off. Father enjoyed punishing his subjects, often for no reason other than to exercise control over them.

“You’re pathetic,” I said, withdrawing my Shadow so suddenly Eleon collapsed to the floor. I let my gaze travel over his body, allowing the implication that I disapproved of everything I saw. 

“You will speak of this to no one.”