Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
TAVISH
My knees slammed into the ground, the impact threatening to make my spine punch through my mouth.
“I could do without that shite happening again,” I said through clenched teeth. But no vampires appeared. We’d left them behind.
Portia staggered to her feet a short distance away. Albie had stayed upright, and he came to me and offered his hand.
“You fall from a greater height than most,” he said.
I let him pull me up. Then I straightened his spectacles, which had been knocked askew by the jump. “Don’t I know it, darling.”
“What is this place?” Portia asked, staring around.
Heat radiated from the ground. The stench of soot and sulfur floated in the air.
Scrubby brush dotted the landscape, the twisted plants clinging to life in the barren soil.
A blood-red sun blazed overhead, the bloated orb washing everything in shades of rust and crimson.
Twin crimson moons were visible in the hazy daylight.
“The demon plane,” I said, wiping dust from my eyes. We hadn’t simply jumped to another time. We’d landed in another realm.
Portia looked around with a wary expression. “Which kingdom?”
“Not certain yet.” The demon plane was dotted with hundreds of kingdoms, some little more than a fort on a hillside.
But others were thriving cities with sizable populations and standing armies.
Large or small, most tended toward war and petty squabbles.
For a mortal species, the demons were eager to kill each other.
A sharp caw drew my gaze up. A firegull with translucent skin stretched over a black skeleton swept through the cloudless sky and disappeared over a ridge.
I moved forward, my boots crunching in the dirt. Albie and Portia fell into step beside me. The ridge led to a sharp slope. Beyond it, a village of timbered houses filled a wide valley. And beyond that…
The Bay of Orz’galach.
Its red-tinted waters stretched to the horizon.
A bustling wharf crowded with boats jutted into the sea.
Demons with curved horns hauled nets from fishing vessels with patched black sails.
Merchant barges and sleek crafts with crimson flags jostled for space at the dock.
A crest with a two-tiered fountain adorned the center of each flag.
“Razrothia,” Albie and I said at the same time. The symbol on the flag was the famed Fountain of Strength, where Razroth warriors bathed before battle.
Portia went pale beside me. “My fathers forbid me to come here.”
Grim understanding lit Albie’s eyes. “Because the Razroth imprisoned your mother.”
Portia turned her gaze to the wharf. “She once told me that it affected my fathers far more than it did her. They don’t speak of it.”
Albie and I looked at each other. Once again, we’d landed in a place connected to Portia.
Another caw split the air, and a second firegull swooped in front of us and flew toward the bay.
“We need to move,” I said, gesturing toward the village. “We’re too exposed here in the open.”
We stayed low as we made our way down the ridge. When we reached the edge of the village, I pulled Portia and Albie behind a quiet row of merchants’ shops. The scent of roasted meat and demon ale drifted from somewhere nearby, and the clang of metal on metal echoed from a smithy across the street.
I peered around the corner.
Firesteeds pulled wagons along the cobblestones, their hooves striking sparks with each step. The beasts looked much like horses on the human plane except for their glowing red eyes and ghostly red flames in place of a tail.
Men and women with curved horns moved up and down boardwalks that lined the streets.
A demon male played a fiddle outside a tavern, the lilting notes competing with the clamor of voices and the clip-clop of the firesteeds’ hooves.
A demoness passing by flicked a gold coin into the open case at his feet, and he grinned at her as he continued to play.
“What time period are we in?” Portia whispered. “It looks medieval.”
Albie cocked his head. “Medieval?”
She frowned. “You don’t know that word?”
“Should I?”
“It’s an era,” she said. “Like…a time that’s old and preindustrial— Fuck, you don’t know what that means, either, do you?”
He smiled, every bit a flirt as he leaned closer. “You’ll have to teach me.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled back as she said, “I’m not much of a scholar.”
“Not so, lass. You’re becoming an expert on handsome men from the mid-1700s.”
“Handsome?”
“Aye. Very.”
A flash of black drew my attention away from their banter. Across the street, a cloaked figure darted from between two buildings and entered the flow of demons on the boardwalk.
Apprehension tingled down my spine. “Wheesht,” I said, waving Portia and Albie to silence.
The cloaked figure entered the street. A wagon clattered in front of him, and he snarled as he jumped backward.
His hood slipped, revealing a man with olive skin and black hair pulled back from a handsome but stern face.
The intricate embroidery of a witch’s black barasta peeked from beneath his thick cloak.
Portia sucked in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That’s my father…” She leaned forward, squinting. “No, it’s—”
“Mullo Balfour,” Albie said quietly on her other side.
I met his gaze over Portia’s head. Albie had studied witches for centuries. He’d pored over texts and histories in libraries and spell shops around the world. If he said it was Mullo, it was Mullo. Portia’s great-grandsire.
My mind raced. Portia had told us Mullo eventually possessed all seven elements, which he’d used to create the Curse that killed our women. And now he was here in Razrothia.
And so was Portia. It couldn’t have happened by chance.
Mullo adjusted his cloak, then continued down the boardwalk on the other side of the street.
Albie gasped, and I jerked my head around to see him rubbing his forehead.
“Headache?” I murmured.
He pushed his spectacles higher. “Just a bit of dust in my eye.”
But he’d rubbed his head, not his eye. And his jaw was tight—
“We need to follow Mullo,” Portia said. Before I could stop her, she darted from our hiding spot.
“Shite,” I hissed, grabbing Albie’s arm. We followed, keeping to the shadows as Mullo led us through the village. Portia moved ahead of us with surprising stealth, weaving through the crowd of demons. The look of determination on her face made me nervous.
“Portia,” I said as loudly as I dared. “Stop.”
She didn’t listen, her gaze fixed on her ancestor as he made his way toward the wharf. I caught up to her and grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing?” I asked under my breath.
“Don’t you see?” Intensity burned in her eyes. “This is why we’re here. To stop him before he gets all seven elements.”
Albie appeared beside us, his face strained. “We don’t know if that’s our purpose. We could be here for any number of reasons.”
She pulled from my grip. “It can’t be coincidence.”
“We need to think this through,” Albie said.
Raised voices drew our attention. Mullo argued with a pair of fishermen with red-and-black scarves around their necks. Matching flags fluttered atop the masts of two fishing boats tied to the dock.
The demons’ language was a guttural mix of growls and harsh consonants. I understood enough to make out most of the words.
“What are they saying?” Portia whispered.
“Mullo wants passage across the bay,” I said. “The demons are refusing. They say the sea is too dangerous this time of year.”
One of the demons gestured sharply, and I caught a single word that made my blood run cold.
“Asmira.”
Portia gasped. “The Oracle…”
Albie nodded grimly. “He must be on his way to bargain with the Oracle of Asmira. That’s where he traded his fertility for more power.”
Mullo’s voice rose as he switched to the Common Tongue. “I’ll pay triple your usual rate.”
The demon with the darker horns shook his head. “No amount of gold is worth angering the Oracle’s guardians.”
Mullo narrowed his eyes. The air around him shimmered with heat.
The second demon summoned a fireball in his palm. The flames danced over his fingers as he took a step forward.
A cold, vicious smile curved Mullo’s lips. He flicked his wrist, and fire erupted in his hand. But instead of attacking the demons, he sent it streaking toward one of their boats.
The vessel exploded into flames. Demons on the dock shouted and scrambled to push the burning boat away from the others before the fire could spread.
Mullo lowered his hood, revealing his black hair and eyes. The embroidered collar of his barasta showed above the top of his cloak. “Careful, demon,” Mullo said softly. “You’re not the only master of fire.”
The fishermen shrank back, fear replacing their defiance. They were mortal, their lifespans not much longer than a human’s. Mullo was centuries old and the most formidable fire witch in the world.
Portia grabbed my arm and spoke in a fierce whisper. “This is my chance to stop the Curse before it starts.”
I looked at Albie, who shook his head. “We need a plan first,” I told Portia.
“There’s no time for a plan!” she said.
On her other side, Albie caught her arm. “Portia, listen—”
“Let me go!” She thrashed between us, her voice rising. Ghostly, shimmering scales rippled down her arms.
I pulled her against me and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet, lass, or you’ll bring every demon in this village down on our heads.”
She bit my palm.
“Fuck,” I muttered, tightening my grip. She fought harder.
Mullo climbed into the remaining boat. The fishermen followed with their eyes down and their movements jerky with obvious fear. Within moments, they’d pushed off from the dock. Wind billowed the boat’s black sail as they headed out to sea. The ship Mullo had set aflame sank beneath the water.
Portia screamed behind my hand, but the racket on the wharf drowned her cry.
I waited until Mullo’s boat was a dark speck on the horizon. Then I released her.
She whirled on me with fire searing her irises. “How fucking dare you?”
“We can still go after him,” Albie said, stepping between us. “But we need a strategy first. Mullo Balfour is the most powerful witch in ten generations. If we approach this impulsively, we could make everything worse.”
“Worse?” Portia’s voice dipped, her dragon deepening the sound. Scales rippled across her neck and jaw. “How could it possibly be worse than a Curse that’s going to kill our females?”
“It’s folly to confront him without a plan,” I said. “We need to consider every angle. What if stopping him here creates something even more terrible?”
She fell silent. When she finally spoke again, her voice was flat. Dangerous. “You don’t want me to stop him.”
“That’s not—”
“You’re sabotaging me.” Fire leapt in her eyes. “You want to trap me here so I can’t go home.”
The accusation hit like a fist in my gut. “We’re trying to keep you safe—”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe!” Scales spread down her arms. Her voice rose. “I can save everyone. Don’t you understand? If I stop Mullo now, the Curse never happens. All those females live. Our entire species survives!”
“We know that,” Albie said. “But—”
“But nothing!” She cast a wild look between us. “I finally have a chance to fix everything, and you’re stopping me because you’re afraid I’ll leave you.”
Heads turned on the wharf. Demons looked in our direction.
“Keep your voice down,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You only care about yourselves,” she said. “You don’t want an equal partner. You want to chain me to your sides.” Her eyes blazed. “Well, I don’t care what happens to me! I don’t care if I die stopping Mullo. At least I’ll die knowing I saved my people!”
Albie reached for her. “Portia—”
“No!” She stumbled back. “I hate you! I hate that you’re keeping me from doing what I’m supposed to do!”
More demons turned to stare. A pair started toward us.
“You’re trying to control me,” she said, her rising voice drawing more stares. “Just like everyone else. Just like my fathers. You want to cage me and keep me safe. But this is more important than any of us. The Curse—”
“Your recklessness is a curse,” I snapped.
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake.
Portia looked like I’d slapped her. Like she’d seen a ghost.
Then she turned and ran.
“Portia!” I lunged after her. Albie blurred, appearing in front of her with his arms flung wide like he meant to catch her.
She staggered to a stop. Chest heaving, she shifted—or tried to. Her body flickered, smoke swirling around her before she turned solid again. The shift was all wrong. Smoke twisted around her again, the flow unstable and chaotic.
And then I saw it.
Plum-colored velvet peeking from the top of her dress.
The chronomancer’s bag. She still had it.
“No!” I shouted, putting on a burst of speed.
The air around her warped. The wharf and the scenery behind her twisted. Colors bled and ran together.
Albie and I reached for her at the same time.
Our hands passed through empty air where her shoulders should have been.
The world twisted.
And Portia was gone.
As if she’d never been there at all.
I fell to my knees and roared.