Demon Storm: Belador book 5 (4 page)

Even a legion of demons.

Nadina arched and yelled out, “I’m almost done!” 

“Who are you talking to?”

She panted out several breaths and had her hand on her lower back. “Hanhau. He is tired of waiting. Before you walked into the building, I called out to Hanhau and told him you were coming. He is out of patience and I am out of time. You must go now or not at all.”

This was screwed nine ways, but bringing Hanhau into the mix had just upped the game. Storm said, “Give me your blood oath now.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Then I’m not going.”  He’d put himself between Evalle and  every demon Hanhau turned loose if that was what it took to protect her.

Nadina grumbled, “You must be quick or he will pull me away before it is done.”  She produced a knife and said, “Find something to burn.”

Storm glanced around, found a drum with garbage and pulled out a long wood shaving. He stepped back over to Nadina. “I assume you can light this with your powers.”

He could, too, but he wasn’t showing her any of his cards.

“Of course.”  She sliced her palm and allowed her blood to drip onto the wood.

Storm sliced his palm, dripping blood to comingle with hers and started the oath. “I, Storm of the Ashaninka, agree to aid you in escaping Mitnal, but only if you uphold your agreement to return my soul, my father’s soul and swear to never harm or even speak to Evalle. You also agree to never come near me again or touch anything that is mine.”

“Anything? How am I supposed to know if something belongs to you, Storm?”

“By staying a million miles away from me and mine. Give your oath word for word the way I stated mine.”

Nadina spoke through lips pulled tight in anger. “I, Nadina, witch doctor of the Ashaninka who worship Koriošpíri, daughter of the powerful Spiritwalker Sinaa, agree to return Storm of Ashaninka’s soul and his father’s soul upon the moment that I leave Mitnal with Storm and have control of those souls. Once we escape together, I also swear to never harm or even speak to Evalle, plus I agree to never go near Storm again or touch anything that is his.”

He hesitated, hoping he hadn’t missed something. Storm released the wood shaving that remained suspended between them. “Burn it.”

The wood burst into flames, Nadina’s deadly black majik burning a licorice smell through the air. The only black magic more deadly than hers was Noirre. He hoped his nostrils weren’t permanently coated from her majik miasma.

His heart pounded a fast staccato. He was going to enter the demon realm. But with a little luck, this would end his journey to release his father’s soul so that his father could cross over to his final resting place in the afterlife. And it would allow Storm to feel whole again.

To know that he would be the man who deserved Evalle.

And above all, this would eliminate a threat that would otherwise haunt his and Evalle’s future.

Nadina arched again, feet off the floor. She cried out, “Storm is ready. Speak to him, my master.”

Her feet hit the floor and she heaved one breath after another, holding her arms around herself. Even Storm was convinced that she’d suffered in that moment.

A smooth voice that deserved to be on the radio asked, “
You are the demon Storm?”

Storm shot a warning look at Nadina who gave him a just-play-along look. He answered, “I’m Storm.”

“You wish to enter Mitnal?”

Not really, but Storm replied, “Yes.” He gritted his teeth against the sharp jab of pain from lying.

“Why?”

Before Storm could send another death glare her way, Nadina wound her hands in the motion of keep talking. Staying as close to the truth as he could, Storm said, “I understand you want someone to train your demons.”

“And you wish to do that?”

“No,” Storm told him in all sincerity, because every minute in Mitnal put him at risk of losing what grip he had on humanity. He hoped he really could last one day there.

Power lashed through the air from one side of the brick building to the other, striking steel I-beams and leaving burn holes in its wake.

Nadina covered her face with her hands and trembled, looking like someone expecting to die.

Storm continued. “I don’t want to do it, but I will since I understand you’re threatening Evalle. I figure we can either do battle or work something out.”

“Wise decision as you would lose a battle.”

Not necessarily, but even Storm had to admit that until he had a chance to size up Hanhau he had no idea exactly what he was going up against. “How long do you expect me to stay?”

Every word had Nadina’s shoulders hunching against possible retaliation.

Hanhau said,
“You may leave Mitnal when I release my army. Very soon.”

“What’s very soon in your world?”

“Time has no relevance to a demon.”

A vague answer when Storm needed specifics. He pressed on. “And you’d trust me to lead that army?”

“I trust no one, but I do know that once you leave here by my order that you will follow my orders without question.”

The confidence in Hanhau’s voice gave Storm a moment of hesitation. But he could gut out anything the demon ruler hit him with for one day after having survived what Nadina put Storm through as a young man. He’d walked away from that with his humanity in spite of having no soul.

He could make it through this.

Hanhau’s voice didn’t rise in sound but it filled out with power.
“Decide, Storm of the Ashaninka.”

That decision had been made the minute Evalle was put at risk. “I request entrance into Mitnal.”

“I grant that request,” Hanhau answered. “Open the bolthole on your side, Nadina.”

When she dropped her hands from her face, her skin had blanched. She lifted her arms, chanting as she moved her hands apart, palms facing. Light exploded between her palms and grew into an arch. In the next moment, the glowing arch moved from her palms to the concrete floor.

She chanted and continued lowering her hands to her sides, then quieted long enough to say, “Follow me.”

When she walked through the arch, Storm followed her through the bolthole into Mitnal.

Cold rushed across his skin, peppering sharp stings that felt like ice picks striking him. He’d expected as much upon entering the underworld of the cold, but hadn’t expected his body to go icy on the outside and hot as a stoked blaze on the inside. Sweat dripping from his chin hit his chest and froze. Within two steps, he entered a hall of gleaming black stone that flickered with light from hundreds of candles.

A thousand pairs of red eyes turned to the new arrivals.

Demons lounged on surfaces cut into the walls of the massive chamber. Bodies were in all shapes from bulls to serpents to others that were mere skeletons with skin. The smell of despair and hate wound through the air, clinging to Storm’s skin. The energy of the demons crawled over him, seeping into him to test his blood.

He allowed his own energy to pulse through his body and shoved it out hard to back off any inquiries. Several demons howled.
Don’t like getting your fingers slapped with an invisible ruler, huh?

He kept following Nadina through the hordes of demons until she stopped and bowed low. That was something Storm had never expected to see.

She hissed at him. “Bow.”

“No. Not part of the deal.”

Bright orange-red light flared in front of them, illuminating a throne of skulls. Not carved to look like skulls, but empty-eyed bone ghosts staring out at nothing.

Perched on that was a being with arms and legs that gave the impression of human and male.

Storm had heard of Hanhau’s owl-shaped head, but this hideous manifestation insulted the beauty of owls. The demon ruler had skin that looked like it was made of bone. It was whiter than snow and smooth as polished alabaster, all except his face, where black, orange and red jagged lines radiated from his eyes to his ears and chin. Spikes of yellow and blood-red hair tufted between two pointy ears. Thick wads of hair fell to his shoulders, past his arms and to his waist in different lengths, braided thick as two of Storm’s fingers. One horn shot straight up from his forehead. His eyes were nothing but flickering flames. A necklace of bones rough-cut into circles swung from his neck.

Not just circles. Those were eye sockets.

When Hanhau opened his mouth to speak, fire raged at the back of his throat. “You have asked to enter my domain, Storm of the Ashaninka, and I have granted it. To remain here, you must state your intentions for coming to Mitnal.”

“That’s not what–” Nadina started to argue and her lips disappeared from her face. She turned wild eyes on Storm.

Storm shook his head at her, careful to sound more demon than human in front of Hanhau when he told Nadina, “Sympathy is the last thing to expect after striking a deal with someone more evil than you are.”

Cold hatred shoved the wildness from her eyes.

Storm ignored her to concentrate on how best to answer Hanhau. “I thought we discussed that before I came through the bolthole.”

“That was to allow you to enter. To remain, you must state your intentions. If you came here with ulterior motives, you will regret it.”

Nadina’s eyes rounded large, begging him to allow her to speak.

Standing with arms crossed and legs apart, Storm said, “I came here to train your demons.”

That lie caused no physical pain, but Storm ignored the oddity for now and focused on the threat he faced.

Hanhau sat forward. His horns erupted into flames.

What was wrong? Storm had given the demon ruler what he wanted, according to Nadina.

Hanhau’s lips twisted into a smile, then his mouth burst open with belly-deep laughter. His demons howled and chortled with him. Hanhau clapped his hands, “I am much pleased, Nadina.”

Storm swung his head to Nadina, whose lips had returned and were now smirking at him.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

He fought to bring words up from his throat.

She had no trouble speaking. “I told you I would have you as my demon, but I’m willing to share you with my master, Hanhau. You and I will not be leaving together so that oath is of no use, but I found it entertaining.”  She laughed, a brittle, evil sound that died just before she tossed his own words back at him. “Sympathy is the last thing to expect after striking a deal with someone more evil than you are.”

His world was crashing in on itself, but Storm couldn’t hear it above the screaming inside his head.

S
tanding here was going to kill her.

Or someone else if this didn’t move along soon.

Evalle shifted her feet, tired of standing in place waiting, waiting, waiting.

Enough already.

She had to find Storm for any hope of tracking down Brina. The longer the Belador warrior queen was missing from Treoir Castle, the longer all the Beladors back in Atlanta, and the rest of the mortal world, were at risk of annihilation.

Treoir Castle stood, as powerful looking as it had been the first time Evalle visited this island hidden in a mist above the Irish Sea. The structure might still be strong but without a Treoir descendant physically inside the beautiful building, Belador warriors had no powers. As it was, only an empty-eyed, holographic effigy of Brina, the last living Treoir, remained. She’d been attacked with black majik dust.

Not just any run-of-the-mill black majik, but Noirre.

Hundreds of warriors standing around Evalle on the lawn leading up to the castle shifted their feet, anxiously waiting for their goddess Macha to speak.

Sooner than later would be nice, but this deity moved at her own pace.

Evalle had already mouthed off once and survived that. Twice in one lifetime would be pushing her paper-thin luck.

Not that she had any issue with spending the last six hours here to help deal with their dead. Helping to prepare each body to be sent back to families for proper burial had broken her heart. But those fallen had known the jeopardy of accepting the duties and risks that came with being a Belador warrior. Beladors were a race of beings living in the mortal world, but who were far more than regular mortal humans. They were born under the PRIN star and had inherited powers passed down through the blood from ancestors two thousand years ago.

Those ancestors had been bloodthirsty killers who would have enjoyed the carnage from the battle fought mere hours ago here on Treoir against the Medb coven of warlocks and witches, but in today’s world things were different. Modern day Beladors upheld a vow to act with honor or face possible death, with their entire families subject to the same punishment.

Macha meant it when she swore that her Beladors would never take a life dishonorably again.

But every warrior standing here–and those back home in the mortal world–wanted retribution for the bloodbath Treoir had just suffered at the hands of the Medb.

And for the attack on their warrior queen, Brina.

This place no longer reminded Evalle of a fairytale world. Not the kind with happy endings, anyway. The Medb had declared war with their attack, and Beladors all over the world were suffering the loss of everything from kinetic powers to telepathy.

Their greatest enemy, the Medb, had changed the Belador power base in one day.

Evalle would find a way to save Brina, but she couldn’t do it without Storm, who should be at his house waiting for Evalle to return, but no. According to the note he’d left for her, he’d gone after that blasted South American witch doctor.

If that miserable witch doctor harmed one hair on Storm, Evalle would ...

Power surged inside her and cartilage shoved the skin up her arms in advance of her shifting.

She froze, cutting her eyes around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, these warriors were more focused on receiving orders and making someone pay for violating the Belador stronghold than on her.

They might not even care if she shifted into a gryphon again after she’d saved lives in that form during the battle, but
no one
shifted into an altered state while on Treoir without Macha’s permission. Not unless they wanted to tick off an already enraged goddess, which was why Evalle needed to get a grip on her anxiety over Storm before Macha zapped her with enough energy to light up North America.