Dark World (Book I in the Dark World Trilogy) (12 page)

The problem was, the curse worked for
everyone—except shades. For whatever reason, whether it was spoken
incorrectly or damnations of that nature didn’t apply to soulless
beings, shades were immune to the hex.

Kane was the guardian of the first
page—and he’d failed to protect it.

If only I’d been there. It’s
all my fault.

It dawned on him that all the races
were now in danger. True, one shade was able to break in and steal
the demons’ scroll, but to what lengths would Malus go to retrieve
the rest? His eyes focused again on the shade in his
midst.

Maybe Malus would be willing
to bargain—since I have something she wants.

But could he use this girl? This gentle
soul forced to be a killer? He watched her as she visually embraced
every element in sight. From the enormous pterodactyl bats that
swooped overhead, to the inky, bobbing heads of the tar eels as
they coasted with the current of the Nephthys River.

Upon arriving at a field of giant
flowering fungi, Kane heard the shade gasp. Perched atop the
mushroom caps, petals of deep orange and turquoise unfolded before
her, releasing hundreds of bioluminescent orbs the size of Kane’s
head. Fluffy and white, like tufts of feathers balled together,
they drifted along the arid breeze to seed elsewhere. Balanced on
Fate’s shoulder, Ick playfully batted the airborne
spores.

Geysers fired in the distance, their
steaming mineral waters shooting hundreds of feet in the
air.

Deme groaned, her wounds glaring
angrily.

“
We need to find help,” Kane
said sternly.

“
Why?” Fate queried,
swishing a hand at the puff balls of light and watching them bounce
away on a gentle wind.

“
Deme requires
medicine…soon,”

Kane’s gaze swept over the landscape.
Ahead, lingering in the shadows, was the wraith village,
Cryptica.

A flicker of anxiety cast over him.
wraiths weren’t particularly fond of outsiders—especially
shades.

Shrouded in writhing black mist, the
exterior of the wraith village resembled a turbulent storm cloud.
With no apparent doorway, Kane marched up to the twenty foot high
cyclone wall and hollered, “Hello! It is Kane, son of Lucifer! May
we enter?”

He set Deme down onto her wobbly legs,
keeping her steady with her left arm draped across his broad
shoulders, her ruby skin alarmingly pale.

Fate stood a few feet back with Ick,
uncertain as to how she’d be welcomed. So far, shades didn’t seem
to be a favorite among the locals of Dark World. Granted, she’d
only met two of them so far, but from the way they’d reacted when
they first met her and the things they’d said along the trip, she
knew her kind were very hated indeed.

My kind—what is my
kind?

She hadn’t really paused to think about
what exactly she was. Kane and Deme had called her a shade. But
what did that mean exactly? Was she a vampire of some kind? She did
crave the essence of other creatures, but it wasn’t blood, so
vampire didn’t quite fit. A zombie, maybe? Her appearance would
suggest some kind of fiendish transition had occurred within, but
she didn’t desire brains or anything weird like that so she
dismissed that one as well.

I just don’t know what I
am.
Lowering
her eyes to the ground, she wondered if she’d ever really
understand what she’d become—or if it could be reversed.

“
Something’s happening,”
Kane commented.

She moved closer and watched the dark
funnel surrounding the wraith village part like the Red Sea. As
though a set of misty drapes had been pushed aside, a passageway
formed amidst the storm. Kane ducked his head as he went through
the tunnel with Deme hobbling beside him. After a hesitant exhale,
Fate followed.

Tempestuous winds swirled on either
side of the trio. Fate swore she heard moaning and wailing
emanating from within the gale. The hurricane seemed to breathe
around her, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Ahead of her, Deme and Kane moved at a
snail’s pace. Dim light radiated ahead. They were almost there.
Almost free from the whirling storm of shadows. As they stepped out
of the tunnel, the gap in which they’d just walked through sealed
itself, closing off any exit.

The perfect trap,
she thought with a
shudder.

Like a tornado, the center was calm
while the walls of dark fog twisted relentlessly. Several beings
stood before them, hovering a foot or so above the ground. The
creatures, who she assumed were the wraiths, seemed to wisp in and
out of existence. Their hands and feet manifested briefly, then
would disappear into a tendril of smoke.

Vaguely transparent and dressed in
long, hooded cloaks, they hung silently in the air, their form
dematerializing and then reappearing like magic, sometimes a few
feet from where they’d originated.

The only things that didn’t waver out
of existence were their cold, amber glares—and they were focused
solely on her.

Kane could feel the tension in the air
as if it had its own consciousness. Hatred wove its way past the
two demons and landed directly on the shade.

“
Friends, I assure you, the
shade is harmless,” he said, attempting to diffuse the growing
pressure.

One wraith, the tallest, moved
forward, his eyes locked on Fate.
“No shade is harmlessss…”
he hissed, his
hollow voice hovering above a whisper.
“Why have you brought her to
Cryptica?”

“
Please, my…friend, she
needs help,” Kane tilted his head towards Deme, who had fallen
unconscious once more and lay slumped against his torso.

“
Because you are Lucifer’s son,
we will assist you.”
The wraith pointed a vaporous finger at him.
“But you must leave
immediately after.”

“
Of course,” Kane stammered,
“I apologize for the burden.”

Two of the wraiths moved forward and
gently took Deme from Kane’s grasp. With their unseen hands, they
carried her into a tower made entirely of polished obsidian
slabs.

Kane approached the tallest of the
wraiths and asked, “Which of you is the guardian of your scroll? It
is urgent that I speak with them.”

He hesitated a moment,
uncertain.

“
Thisss way, but the shade stays
here,”
the
wraith rasped, shifting his path to the left and gliding towards an
dwelling across the village.

Kane gave a fleeting glance to Fate.
Her expression read volumes. With her arms wrapped around herself
in a hug and eyes fastened on the ground, he worried about leaving
her. But he’d seen her in action, she wasn’t frail by a long
shot—she was lethal. He hoped she’d be able to stay out of trouble
for a few moments. So far, she’d been a fairly agreeable companion,
all things considering.

The wraith led him to a secluded edge
of the village, paused in front of a hollowed out spherical shell
made of rose quartz. As he ducked into the crystal shack, an
overwhelming odor pervaded his nostrils.

Black incense?

There was only one being in the entire
realm that burned the ancient bouquet of the undead.

Enigma

Perched upon her shoulder like some
otherworldly parrot, Ick suddenly lifted up Fate’s long, white hair
and stuffed his head between her locks and the nape of her
neck.

“
What are you doing?” she
asked of the gargoyle, trying to pry him from his hiding
spot.

After pulling him out, cursing as he
scratched her arm in protest, she took a quick look around and
realized what he was afraid of. The five remaining wraiths were
moving towards her, encircling her, their arms outstretched like
ravenous zombies.

“
What…are you doing?” she
repeated, only now it was directed at the phantom creatures
surrounding her. Their blazing orange eyes were locked on her,
seething with an ancient hate.

Oh no…Kane, where are
you?

She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t
want to kill. But the rising inferno swelling within her core was
taking on a life of its own. The pulsating sensation was
overwhelming. Like a spinning top, the dizzying power amplified
with every beat. Ick jumped down, seeming to sense the imminent
danger. He scurried to a far corner and shivered, shielding his
eyes as Fate’s sight flooded black.

Cloaked from head to toe in mud-colored
rags, the petite Oracle sat hunched before her collection of
crystal ornaments. Carved into twelve unique runes, the stones
spoke to her—and only her. Each with a song all their own, the
mystical rocks vibrated and glowed as they answered the seer’s
queries of the future.

As he made his way to the seat across
from her, Kane’s horns bumped into the various gem mobiles dangling
from ceiling. They clicked and clattered in protest, undulating
long after he’d gone by.

Quietly seating himself, he awaited
acknowledgment of his presence.

Engrossed in some sort of trance, her
head hung, he wondered if he should return later. He turned to
leave but was startled when suddenly she spoke, her voice gravelly
and ancient.

“
What do you desire, son of
Lucifer?”

“
I am searching for the pages of
the Devil’s—my father’s—Bible. Are you not the guardian of the
scroll?” he queried, wondering why the wraith sentinel had brought
him to the Oracle when he’d asked for the scroll’s
guardian.

“
No, the wraith guardian is
no longer with us,” she responded cryptically. “Why would you seek
the pages when they will only bring conflict if brought
together”

He bowed his head, paying reverence to
the fallen wraith guardian, then answered, “We believe Malus has
stolen our scroll…and the banshees’ as well. I seek to protect
them. I have to stop her from gaining access to the
Surface.”

The elderly crone nodded. “Yes, your
mother must be stopped.”

Kane cringed. He despised his renowned
affiliation to the nastiest Devil in Dark World history. Seeming to
sense his unease, the Oracle moved on.

“
The wraiths cannot help
you,” she stated, a wisp of silver smoke drifting across her face
from a nearby candle.

“
Why?” Kane
frowned.

A raspy sigh escaped her. “Their scroll
has also been taken.”

His heart and soul fell at once, making
him feel woozy with dread.

Malus has three of them
now?

“
No,” she responded to his
thoughts and he shuddered. “Not Malus. There is
another.”

“
Another! What do you mean?”
Kane leapt to his hooves, nearly smashing his head into the
ceiling. “Someone else seeks the scrolls? Who?”

Unmoving, she admitted, “I know not.
But…” she whispered, continuing with an eerie breath, “you must
travel south. To Necrosia. The answers you seek are
there.”

Necrosia.
He shuddered.

Kane exhaled sharply and examined the
old soothsayer a moment, tempted to believe she was
lying.

Would she deceive
me?

For this, her head snapped up and she
shook her head no. The hooded cloak betrayed her but for an
instant. Kane practically trembled when he glimpsed her face—or
lack thereof. A void. A nothingness. Just an empty space where the
windows to the soul were to reside.

A relative newcomer to Dark World, no
one knew where she’d come from. She’d simply shown up over a
century ago, her powers of prophecy unrivaled. Although she was
revered throughout the land, Kane wondered what this haggard old
soul was doing within the wraith dwelling. Wraiths didn’t mingle
with other races and while he didn’t know from which race the
prophetess stemmed, he was certain she was not a wraith. She was
solid whereas wraiths were nearly translucent beings, ghostly and
vaporous. Banshees were solid, but Amazonian in stature, and being
a sexually provocative group, always naked.

And she was obviously no
demon.

Reapers, the most dangerous race, dwelt
deep within the Nether Caves. Always cowled, Kane had to admit he’d
never actually seen a reaper uncloaked. He swallowed hard with the
notion that the Oracle could be such a creature. Hidden beneath her
dark hood could rest the face of a thousand horrors.

She could very well be a
necromancer. Maybe that’s how she knows I should go
there.

He nodded in silent decision. Though no
one he knew, other than his late father, had ever laid eyes upon
them, it made sense that she might be from the mystical tribe that
lived far in the East, beyond the great wall dividing Dark World in
half. Many myths swirled around the reclusive magic weavers: the
ability to leave their bodies, possess animals, control the
elements, and raise the dead. All bedtime stories his father would
amuse him with, but based on cryptic truths. For now, he would
entertain the notion that the ancient seer was a necromancer,
although Kane wasn’t positive he enjoyed the idea he was in the
presence of the mysterious race.