Chapter 12 Discord
DISCORD
“Welcome to the land of the living.” Mayhem shoved a bundle of clothes into my arms. “Transform. You can’t be your true self in this realm.”
“My true self.” I laughed dryly and morphed into my human form. “If you mean the power-hungry, egotistical oaf who did Lucifer’s bidding at the detriment of everyone who got in his way, I am no longer that person.”
“Right.” Mayhem scoffed. “And all the denizens of Hell have become rainbow unicorns who shit ice cream.”
I put on the underwear and shoved my legs into the pants he’d given me. They were black with multiple pockets and zippers on the sides. I completed the ensemble with a dark gray shirt and a pair of boots similar to the ones Cinder wore.
Mayhem’s clothing was identical to mine, except for the boots. His lacked laces, had pointed toes, and had fire embroidered on the leather. An interesting choice.
“Much has changed since we were imprisoned,” Mayhem said. “I would suggest an evening of television to acclimate you to the century, but we are pressed for time.”
The disdain in his expression reminded me of the battle I had fought with myself in Ruin’s underground chamber. Of the strife I had caused my brother throughout his existence for no other reason than to amuse Lucifer and myself.
I hesitated to speak, my fingers brushing the soft fabric of my new shirt as I glanced around the unfamiliar room.
The air held the faint, acrid tang of sage, reminding me how different this place was from the realm I’d left behind.
Drawing a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders, determined to atone for my transgressions here and now, while I had the chance.
Mayhem started for the door.
“Wait, brother. I have something to say.”
He paused in the threshold, turning, and let out a slow exhale as if bracing himself for whatever insult I might throw his way. “Make it fast. I refuse to waste another moment in this realm without Ember by my side.”
I straightened, reminding myself of my resolve. “I’m sorry.”
He flinched as if I’d slapped him, and he stepped backward, his expression wary. “You are sorry?”
“Yes.”
He arched a brow and crossed his arms. “For what?”
I spread my hands in an open gesture. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, for the jokes I’ve made at your expense. And I’m sorry for having Chaos rig your match with Cerberus.”
His eyes narrowed as he regarded me, searching for signs of truth while no doubt waiting for the punchline. “Where is this coming from?”
I laughed dryly. “I’ve had a bit of time to consider the error of my ways. Forgive me.”
Mayhem straightened, lifting his chin. “Your Holland witch has changed you.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “Cinder was the catalyst that made me truly see myself as others do. She has made me a better man.”
He pursed his lips, studying me again. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he shook his head. “I know the feeling. Come. We must save them.”
I followed him out of the bedroom, and as we descended the stairs, the scent of burning wood rose from the library. We quickened our pace, rushing down the remaining steps to find Cinder holding a red canister and shooting white foam onto a burning bookshelf.
With the fire extinguished, she knocked on the closet door. “I understand why you want to kill us, Ash, but you just started a fire in your library. Curse or not, you don’t want to burn books. I know you don’t.”
“I don’t care,” she screamed. “I’ll burn everything.”
Cinder closed her eyes for a long blink. When she opened them, her gaze landed on me. “Oh, thank Hecate. You need to lift this curse now.”
“Please.” Scorsha clasped her hands over her chest, and tears gathered on her lower lids. “Save my girls.”
“We will save them,” I promised, my voice low and steady. “But first, we must subdue her enough to form a circle.”
“I’ll reinforce the wards.” Ember rubbed her palms together.
“We can’t do it while she’s in the closet.” I stepped toward the door and rested my hands against it. The heat radiating through the wood warmed my palms. Chaos stood beside me, his jaw set in a line of grim determination, while Mayhem paced behind us, his energy crackling like a live wire.
I looked at my brother and then at Cinder. “The process will be excruciating. She will scream as if she were dying.”
“But she won’t die, right?” She clutched her mother’s hand. “You can break the curse without killing my sister.”
“She will survive,” Chaos said, his voice thick. “I will save her at any cost. Ash, stand back. We are opening the door.”
“Come in and die!” she shrieked, and another heavy object slammed against the frame with a thwack.
“She’s a lovely one, brother.” I chuckled despite the gravity of the situation. “Aren’t you a lucky man?”
Chaos shot me a glare that could have frozen Hell ten times over. “Open it.”
I placed my hand on the knob, nodding to my brothers. “One. Two. Three.”
I threw the door open. A blast of heat and smoke rolled out, blinding us for a split second. Ash lunged from the darkness, a feral scream tearing from her throat, her hands wreathed in balls of flame.
She aimed for Scorsha, but Chaos was faster.
He caught her wrists mid-air, extinguishing her fire with a pulse of his own dark magic.
She thrashed against him, spitting and snarling, her eyes wild with a madness that made my stomach turn.
This was not the calm, intelligent sister Cinder had described.
This was a vessel consumed by an ancient hatred.
“Hold her still,” Mayhem growled, stepping forward. “Or we can’t draw the curse out.”
“I’m trying.” Chaos grunted as Ash landed a solid kick to his shin. He tightened his grip, pulling her against his chest to immobilize her. “Now!”
Mayhem and I raised our hands, preparing to weave the counter-curse…to unravel the very magic we created, the magic which had caused so much strife. Purple and green energy coalesced in our palms, lighting up the smoke-filled library.
Energy crackled on Chaos’s fingertips, ready to join with ours and free his witch from the abhorrence we helped sow. “We must join hands. I cannot hold her while we do this.”
“Miles, mix a binding spell,” Cinder said, her voice steady and commanding…the voice of a true leader.
“It won’t hold her long enough. She broke through the one Patrice cast at the bonfire in half a minute. Here.” He placed a bottle in her hand. “You can try.”
Cinder furrowed her brow, looking first at the bottled spell and then at Ember. “Since when do you keep premixed spells at home?”
“We’ve learned to be prepared.” Ember shrugged and offered her hand. “And to share vim. Hopefully, she’s exhausted and she’ll stay put long enough for the guys to do their thing.”
My witch accepted the offer, the hint of a proud smile playing on her lips as they recited the incantation in unison. Cinder tossed the granules onto Ash, and Chaos released her, stepping away as her body froze to the spot.
Ash strained, the tendons in her neck protruding as she fought the restraint.
Unfortunately, our curse amplified her strength, as it was intended to.
She flexed her fingers. Her head turned slowly as she made fists, bending her arms at the elbows first, and then lifting them over her head.
She opened her mouth to scream, her jaw unhinging slowly, but no sound emanated from her throat.
“Perhaps another sleeping spell,” I said.
“On it.” Miles hurried to the counter where his supplies lay strewn about.
“Now, brothers. While she’s still subdued.” Chaos clasped my hand.
I reached for Mayhem, my power gathering in my chest and cascading down my arm. Everyone held their breaths.
Knock, knock, knock. The sound was soft, hesitant, yet in the charged silence of the room, it sounded like a gavel striking a sounding block.
Ash took advantage of the distraction, breaking free and lunging, biting Chaos’s forearm. He ignored the pain and caught her in his arms once more. Miles blew the sleeping powder into Ash’s face. Her knees buckled, and my brother lowered her to the floor.
“We need to do this now,” Chaos said, his attention focused solely on Ash.
My attention, however, locked on the witch with red hair and fair skin, descending the stairs.
“Patrice,” relief flooded Ember’s voice. “Thank the goddess you’re okay.”
The healer stepped into the library, her eyes wide with concern, her hands clutching her medical bag. She looked from the charred bookshelf to Scorsha, and finally to Ash, crumpled on the floor.
“You’re all—” Her words died in her throat as her gaze landed on me.
A sickening, festering vibration struck my soul…a frequency in her blood that sang a song of betrayal and ancient magic. She must have masked it well for my brothers not to know. Without our unholy trinity intact, they had been unable to detect it, as I had been with Seraphine.
But now, as this red-haired woman stood mere feet from all three demons whom her ancestor had wronged, her aura screamed the truth.
Chaos went rigid. The air around him heated, crackling with hellfire and hatred. Mayhem turned slowly toward the healer, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glowing with a violent, purple light.
“Isabel,” Chaos whispered, the name dripping from his lips like venom.
“She is of the blood.” Mayhem tilted his head, studying her. “How did we not know?”
“We needed the power of three.” I narrowed my eyes. This woman, this healer who had tended to their wounds, was the spawn of the witch who had stolen centuries of our lives.
“Hold up.” Ember raised her hands. “Are you saying Patrice is Isabel’s descendant?”
Cinder’s posture stiffened. “There’s no way. She can’t be the reason for…”
“Oh, Patrice,” Scorsha said, her tone that of a disappointed mother. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The healer froze, her gaze darting between the witches and us. She took a stumbling step back, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield. “I…I can explain.”