Chapter 24 #2
“You hear me?” Atlas prodded as he took a step forward and raised an eyebrow. “I promise you this, and I’m a man of my fucking word.”
At that, Wes’s eyes bled to black again, and he threw his head back to laugh. It wasn’t his normal jovial burst of happiness. No, this was chilling and insidious, making my stomach churn with panic.
“Is that what you think, you puny, insignificant warrior? And how do you plan to do that?” His voice dropped four octaves, reminding me of a monster out of a horror movie. Hell, we were in one, weren’t we? “Now that I’m riding your brother, you can’t kill me without killing him.”
I met Atlas’s gaze, where he remained as resolute as I’d ever seen him. I tried to swallow my anxiety and ignore the vitriol spewing from the beast. It didn’t matter what it said. We didn’t come this far only to get this far. We had a plan. We had until midnight to figure it out.
“Demons have been exorcised before,” Atlas told me. “It doesn’t matter what deal Wes made. We can undo it.”
I nodded, but I didn’t know how to do that without having completed the bond.
I could technically pull from Atlas, but would it be enough?
Would anything be enough? My faith was at an all-time low.
I didn’t even have confidence in myself anymore.
I was the one who insisted on using the book, on following Constance’s demented rituals.
Atlas had been right all along. I should have waited. I shouldn’t have rushed head first—
“Hey!” he snapped, tracing his tender hands over my shoulders. “None of that. We’ll get out of this. We will. You know what to do.”
Trying to fill myself with his reassurances, I grabbed the container of salt and walked around the circle, pouring a generous, steady stream to keep us safe.
“You think that will work?” Wes laughed harder. “Idiot humans. Always relying on your sigils and your pathetic beliefs. Where do you think this power came from in the first place? Do you suppose your God gave it to you?”
I pushed those thoughts away, shoving aside any resistance to my faith.
The time has come to fight. You must turn your anger into faith, and your faith into action.
I chanted her words over and over in my head, repeating them as I spread my hands over the incense and chanted empowerment spells.
“No,” Wes went on. “We took it. When we rebelled, we clawed at what remained of our power and gifted it to humans in exchange for dominion. You all would still be fish trying to crawl out of water if it weren’t for us.”
“I give you the strength of protection,” I muttered. “I give you protection. I give you—”
“Protection?” Wes cackled and yanked at his restraints. “Herbs won’t protect you from what’s coming, filthy mortal.”
I put my hands over my ears to block him out. I’d spent two months falling in love with the way Wes spoke, how he could reach inside me and drag out my insecurities with stone-cold logic. This hurt more deeply than I ever expected.
“Marta,” Atlas hummed, kneeling in front of me to pull my hands down. “Don’t listen to him. Demons lie, remember? It’ll say whatever it can to get us to do what it wants. Focus.”
“What if he’s right?” I whispered, the voice in my head so soft and featherlight.
“He’s not. Deep breaths. Inhale. And exhale. Inhale. And exhale.”
I matched his breathing until my pulse slowed and the fog in my head cleared.
“What’s next?” Atlas asked. “How do we get him out of my brother?”
I shook my head. “I…uh…I don’t know. We could exorcise and banish him, but I don’t know how to do that. The Harlots forbid it.”
It affected the witch who cast it, marking the soul, corrupting it. The witches who were the best at it eventually lost their humanity, almost like they had to sacrifice a piece of themselves for it to work. Lilith had said they went mad, that they were closer to demon than human afterward.
“It steals a piece of the witch’s soul,” I said. “Nothing is free.” I told him the theory about the old stories, and the more I talked, the more crestfallen his features became. “A gift given for a gift received.”
“But you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.” He grabbed my hands and squeezed them. “Just this once.”
“I don’t even know if I can banish him from a liminal,” I said. “I don’t know the steps. I don’t know the ritual.”
Wes laughed again, this time drawing our attention back to him. “You can’t, but I’ll enjoy watching you try.”
“Oh yeah?” Atlas snapped. “And why is that?”
Wes only shrugged. “Let me out of here and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“Fuck off,” Atlas said. “And shut up before I tape your mouth closed.”
“Kinky,” Wes said. “Now, I knew you’d like it rough, especially when the witch held you down with a knife to your throat and used your body to get herself off.”
I froze, realization dousing me in icy water. It had been watching us the entire time we’d been here. How? It didn’t give us any signs. It didn’t make itself known. If a demon were lurking around every corner, we certainly would have seen it or felt it or…
“But your brother?” Wes shook his head and chuckled.
“I’ll admit. I’ve seen some wild things in my extraordinarily long existence, but the last brothers that had such a sordid affair ended tragically with one beating the other’s head in with a rock.
I suppose it won’t be much different this time.
Perhaps that’s why brothers shouldn’t fuck each other—”
“This whole time,” I cut in. “You’ve been watching us this whole time.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” the demon said. “In a whole wide world of nothing, you were my only entertainment. And hell, were you boring. Bitching and moaning about each other and how to get out. But once you decided to try Constance’s little rituals, that’s when things got so much more interesting.”
My stomach clenched, and I curled my fingers into fists. I knew where this was going, even as the shock and surprise boiled through my blood.
Wes gasped in feigned shock. “What? You didn’t know? I had to give you a little nudge, didn’t I?”
“You…” All the tumblers finally locked into place. “You gave me the book.”
“Right again.” Wes heaved a deep sigh. “Getting you to use it took some work. But all I had to do was weave in some influence. A little push here, a little nudge there. Make it unbearable to stay here without touching each other. Make it so even your dreams were infected with me.”
“The nightmares,” Atlas said. “That was you, too.”
“Oh, dear simple warrior,” Wes continued. “I’ve been everywhere the whole time.”
“For what?” Atlas rubbed his hand over his face. “What’s your endgame? If you wanted us trapped here, why give us the key to get out?”
“Who says it’s a key?” Wes raised an indignant eyebrow. “It made you powerful, didn’t it? Maybe I wanted to help you. Ever think of that?”
“Oh, right. An altruistic demon with nothing but benevolence in its heart,” Atlas growled. “Forgive me for not realizing it earlier.”
“That explains nothing,” I said. The only reason the demon would give us these rituals was if it benefited it in some way. But how? I didn’t see the point. What did it want? Would it really guide us here only for its own amusement? No, I didn’t think so.
At that, Wes made a grand show of pursing his lips and shrugging again, suggesting that was all he would say on the subject.
I closed my eyes against the burning ache that threatened to pull me under.
I was exhausted and magically drained, and this was the tipping point.
The whole time, we’d been feeding the will of the demon.
We’d been playing its game like pawns on a chessboard, and now I didn’t know what to do next.
We couldn’t get out of here without Wes, and we couldn’t get Wes without yanking the demon out of him, and I couldn’t do that without sacrificing a piece of myself with it.
I didn’t even know if I had the magical juice to do it, period, even with Atlas’s help.
“Marta,” Atlas said, coming to stand next to me. But I pushed him away.
I needed time to think. I needed space to breathe. I couldn’t be here anymore. I couldn’t—
“Give me a minute,” I said, backing away from him.
I didn’t know where I was going, only that I couldn’t stand to be in that room with the consequences of my conviction anymore.
I’d been so sure the rituals would work.
I’d been so confident in Constance’s instructions, and now my carefully laid plans had crumbled through my fingers.
I found myself in the chapel, staring up at the stained glass portrait of St. Michael with his sword raised above his head.
Below his feet, a giant serpent wrapped around the trunk of a tree, its head nearly separated from its body.
Objectively, the tableau was beautiful, if a little grim.
I watched the fading light pour in through the tiny colored pieces, casting the room in vibrant indigos and emeralds.
I’d never been one to put my faith in a God that would so callously snatch my parents away from me. I’d been angry with Him for so long, I didn’t even know where my fury ended and my faith began. But if there ever were a time…if there ever were a place…
I lit a candle and dipped my fingers into the basin of holy water before touching my shoulders, my forehead, and my heart. Then, I fell to my knees right there on the hardwood floor, pressed my hands together at my chest, and closed my eyes.
The words came to me from the depths of my subconscious.
“Padre Nuestro, que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre; venga a nosotros tu reino; hágase tu voluntad, en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día; perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden; no nos dejes caer en la tentación, y líbranos del mal. Amén.”