The Crossing (Immortals) (22 page)

Mac slipped through the crowd, following, watching for
an opportunity to make his move. Damn, but he wished
he could be sure of Artemis's welcome when he tried to
free her. He wasn't. She'd come here of her own free will.
She might very well react badly to his rescue.

His quarry disappeared into a dense haze of smoke.
The putrid fog was so thick Mac nearly collided with
Malachi's back when the demon suddenly halted. They'd
come to the end of what looked like a short, blank corridor. There didn't appear to be any exit. Mac drew back,
considering. What was going on?

Neither Artemis nor the demon seemed to be aware of
Mac's presence-apparently, Mac had cast a more than
competent death glamour. Would he be able to call hellfire as well, in place of his usual elfshot? Experimentally,
he extended his palm, but before he could make an attempt, Malachi reached out and placed his palm flat on the
blank wall in front of him.

A silver door materialized. A round button appeared on
a panel to one side, bearing an illuminated, down-pointing
arrow. Malachi pressed it.

Mac frowned. An elevator?

It seemed to be. Malachi and Artemis stood shoulder to
shoulder, waiting, the fingers of Malachi's right hand still
wrapped around Artemis's neck. Artemis's spine was ramrod
straight. She held her arms crossed over her stomach, her
hands gripping her elbows. Her eyes didn't stray once to the
demon on her left. They remained fixed on the silver door.

Clearing his throat, Mac dropped his death glamour
and strolled into place on Artemis's right. "So. Where to
next, love?"

Artemis choked. If her head had whipped around any
faster, Malachi's grip would have snapped her neck. She
stared at him as if he owned two heads-both of them
dead ugly. "Mac. What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you, of course. Whatever your problem is, I
can tell you right now, love, this smarmy demon bloke
here is not your solution."

Malachi's dark gaze met Mac's over Artemis's head. His
split instant of surprise quickly transformed into a scowl.
Long fingers tightened on Artemis's neck, making her
wince.

"Friend of yours?" the demon asked her.

"No-"

"Yes," Mac said at the same time.

Artemis stabbed him with a swift, deadly glance. "No.
He's not. Get out of here, Mac."

"Not a chance." Damn, but the woman needed someone to save her from herself. He grabbed Artemis's upper
arm and, with one swift yank, jerked her out of Malachi's
grip. The demon's fist closed on air.

"You idiot-" Artemis began.

"Shut up, love," Mac said, shoving Artemis behind him.
He kept an even tone, but inside, his heart thudded furiously. One touch on her arm had told him what he needed
to know. A spark of divine life grew inside her. She was
carrying his child.

"Mac. Give it up. You can't fight him. Not here."

The demon's red eyes narrowed. "Not anywhere, Sidhe.
You go too far, coming here. I don't know how you got in,
but the trip may very well be the last one you ever take if
you don't step away from this human now. She is mine.
We've just executed a blood contract."

Mac met Malachi's gaze. "Sorry, mate," he said mildly.
"I had this one first. She had no business coming to you
without my permission."

He ignored Artemis's enraged sputter.

At the corner of his vision, he noted figures slipping
into the open end of the corridor. Lesser demons and demonwhores, buzzing with excitement. Getting ready to
join their master in a little fun, were they? That could get
difficult. He was new to this death-magic thing.

Artemis darted a look at the gathering crowd. "Let go
of me! Don't you understand? I don't want to be rescued!"

"Too damn bad." Mac's fingers tightened against her
struggling, grinding her wrist bones together until she
gasped with pain and stilled. Her resentment sizzled, heating the air between them.

"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Please, Mac, get out of
here. This is no place for you, don't you see that?
Malachi's an Old One, and Shadowhaven is his realm.
He'll destroy you."

"With pleasure," the demon agreed. His hand came up.

When the stream of hellfire left Malachi's fingers, Mac
was ready for it. He countered with an equally ugly blast.
The twin forces met in an explosion of red stars.

Artemis let out a gasp. "Death magic! How...

Rage shimmered over Malachi's sallow face. "So. The
Sidhe prince has hidden depths. No matter-"

The demon launched a spell. Mac spun, shielding
Artemis with his body. The attack sliced his shoulder,
painting a fiery streak of pain.

"Aahh!" He lost his balance. Arms flailing, he fell against Artemis, smashing her between his chest and the elevator
door.

"Gods damn it." Instinctively, he threw up a defensive
shield, sealing himself and Artemis in the shallow space
defined by the door's frame. Bugger it. He'd cast life magic,
by reflex. If he'd had time to think, he would have attempted another death spell.

His life magic was weak in this realm of death. He only
just managed to hold the shield in place, while the world
spun with violent vertigo.

Artemis wiggled against his chest; her elbow connected
with his gut. What the hell was she doing?

"Damn it, Mac," she grunted. "Move. I can't breathe."

"Too bloody bad." He wasn't giving her an inch. He
didn't trust her half that far. Gods in Annwyn! Maybe his
mother was right. A nice Sidhe girl would never have gotten him into a situation like this.

Malachi let out a roar. Hellfire assaulted Mac's fragile
shielding. Sweat poured down his neck. So this was what it
felt like to be roasted alive. He squashed Artemis even
harder against the elevator door, trying to shield her from
the worst of the heat.

Artemis-damn her stubborn soul-was still trying to
escape.

"Ballocks, witch, untwist your knickers! I am not giving
you back to that creature."

"You freaking, arrogant ass! How dare you tell me what
to do!" She was almost in tears. "You don't know what
you've done. You've ruined everything-"

He didn't know what galled him worse: that she
wouldn't tell him what "everything" was, or the fact that
she had so little faith in his abilities. "What's the matter,
love? Sleeping with a mere demigod turn out to be a bore?
A demon's kiss more your style?"

"Bastard," she spat out.

Malachi sent another death surge at Mac's shield. Flames
leaped; the temperature soared. Mac let out a stream of
profanity, using a few choice words he didn't think he ever
before had an occasion to utter.

"Oh gods," Artemis breathed. "That life spell of yours
isn't going to hold much longer. Listen to me, Mac.
Please. I appreciate you coming after me, I really do, but
you have to let me go now. You don't understand-"

"Tell me, then," he ground out. "I'm all ears."

"There's no-"

A bell clanged.

"-time to-aaack!" Artemis's words shattered into a
scream as the wall at her back slid open.

No, not the wall. The door.

The elevator had arrived.

She pitched backward; Mac fell forward. They landed
together, limbs tangled, on a smooth, hard floor.

Malachi bellowed his outrage. Hellfire exploded, hotter
than before. Mac's shield bowed inward, filling half the elevator cab before bouncing out again. An instant later,
Mac felt the spell shiver. A sound like cracking ice filled
his ears. A web of fine lines appeared at the top of the lifemagic shield, just below the head of the elevator door
frame. The fissures spread downward, like a spider's expanding web.

"Ballocks." He lunged for the elevator panel, which
sported a single, unmarked button.

Artemis beat him to it. She jabbed the button once,
twice, three times. "Close, damn it!"

Mac's shield was disintegrating, crumbling from top to
bottom. He shoved Artemis to the floor as a blast of hellfire broke through, but not quickly enough to shield her
from a glancing blow to the shoulder. Malachi's wild
laughter ricocheted inside the cab.

"Gods in Annwyn, Artemis. Are you all right?"

She winced, rotating her shoulder, her face pale. "I
think so."

Another blast hit the wall over their heads. Bounding to
his feet, Mac threw everything he had into bolstering the
shield. Which meant he had nothing at all left for making
the elevator move. Artemis stared up at him, eyes wide.
Her mind seemed to have blanked.

"Artemis," he said sharply.

A measure of lucidity seemed to return.

"Anything you can do, love, to close that door, would be
greatly appreciated. Death magic, life magic, whatever. At
this point, I'm not choosy."

For a second she just blinked up at him, brows furrowed, as if he'd been speaking in troll grunts. Then she
gave her head a shake. "I think I can do something. I'll just
need... some time. Maybe a minute..."

She might as well have asked for a year. "Right, then,"
Mac said, ducking another lick of hellfire. "Do it."

He threw all his concentration into delaying the inevitable destruction of his shield. Behind him, on her knees,
Artemis bent double and grunted out a series of hellacious
syllables-fingernails on a psychic chalkboard. The noise
went on for what seemed like forever until...

His shield collapsed.

Malachi let out a triumphant howl.

"Got it!" Artemis cried.

The demon lunged; the elevator doors swished closed in
his face, plunging Mac and Artemis into darkness. A muffled
shriek sounded. A resounding thump shook the cab.

Artemis jabbed the elevator button. The cab lurched
sharply upward, as if a giant hand had jerked on the cable.
For one interminable second it hung motionless, as if suspended in midair. Then the force holding them aloft
snapped, and the cab plummeted downward.

Mac floundered in the darkness, grabbing hold of
Artemis's leg, her elbow, her shoulder. Finally, he managed to wrap his arms around her as the force of the elevator's
downward plunge plastered them to the floor. A sound
like a tornado's roar battered his skull.

"Do you know where we're going?" he shouted, his lips
close to Artemis's ear.

"Now you ask," she shouted back at him.

"Just tell me."

He felt a shudder pass through her. "We're going as far
down as we can go, Mac. We're going to Hell."

After what seemed like hours, Malachi's elevator to Hell
slammed to a stop, jarring Artemis's skull against the side
wall of the car. The impact vibrated inside her head like a
hammer on a gong. For several moments, the tremors in
her brain overrode coherent thought.

Then all sound ceased.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Artemis thought
she was dead. But no. If she were dead, her head
wouldn't be killing her. Or maybe it would-she didn't
know. But certainly, if she were dead, Mac's arms
wouldn't be clamped tightly around her, and his heart
wouldn't be thudding in the same life-affirming rhythm
as her own.

He'd come after her. After all the lies she told him, after
what she'd done to him, Mac had plunged into Malachi's
death realm, intent on rescuing her. She tried, but she
couldn't quite get her mind wrapped around that stunning,
impossible thought.

She buried her face in his chest and clung to him. He
smelled earthy, sweaty. Alive. His body was warm and solid
and more comforting than she deserved.

And he'd cast death magic. What did that mean?

He rubbed the back of her neck, erasing the lingering
soreness left by Malachi's touch. She felt a puff of breath
at her temple as his lungs expelled a low laugh.

"Whoever heard of going to Hell in an elevator?"
she said.

"Very funny, love. Trolling for a handbasket joke,
are you?"

An unwilling chuckle escaped her own throat. "Unfortunately I'm not kidding, Mac. That's where we're headed."
She paused, sobering. "We might be there already."

He cleared his throat, but didn't immediately answer. It
was too dark to see the disbelief she knew was in his eyes,
but she could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind,
reaching the only logical conclusion possible.

"You do realize that's impossible," he said finally. "I
mean, popping in and out of demon realms-that's one
thing. Living creatures do it all the time. Going to Hellactual Hell with a capital H-that's just not done by people
who aren't dead."

She eased out of his arms, when all she really wanted to
do was stay. But she couldn't afford the luxury of weakness. Or of hiding from what had to be done. If it still
could be done.

Mac could very well have ruined everything.

A writhing mass of serpents twisted in her stomach. No.
She would not believe she'd gotten this far only to fail.

"It's not impossible for living people to go to Hell," she
said quietly. "It's just... really, really difficult."