She had to force herself not to allow her gaze to linger on Dawson. Even though he was tired and grimy from their long hours hiking between the levels, she still thought him absolutely gorgeous. Reluctantly, she looked away. “This man is Taron of Libernus, an aristocrat who has joined our cause. Taron has spent the past week replicating the crystal swords—one for each of the Forgotten Ones, that we be forgotten no longer.”
She stood aside from the long table now covered with crystal swords. “As our mothers were warriors in the terrible DemonWars, so shall we fight.”
Taron stepped forward with his two bundles and set them on the floor at Selyn’s feet. “Stay with your sisters, Selyn. Explain what’s happening both here and above. We’re going after the rest of the swords.” He raised his head and smiled at the gathering of women. “Listen to Selyn. She’s had a most amazing adventure, one all of you will have the opportunity to join.”
Selyn shot him a quick grin. Taron nodded. Then he and Roland headed for the door. Dawson paused a moment, reached for her, and kissed her full on the mouth, in front of her sisters. “Be careful,” he said. And then he was gone, and Selyn faced a very curious group of her oldest friends.
“So,” she said, “that is where we stand now. What began as a battle against demons infiltrating Earth’s dimension has evolved into an all-out war against demonkind. Already we are learning what actually happened to the women warriors. Our mothers were not betrayed by the Lemurian people. They were betrayed by demons in the guise of their fellow citizens. No wonder it was so hard for them to fight the purge. Their terrible exile wasn’t ordered by their peers. It was entirely the fault of demonkind.”
“The guards? Are they the ones who fathered us, or were they demons? Who do we kill to avenge the degradation of our mothers?”
Selyn sighed. This was not going to be easy. “The guards are victims of demonkind, just as our mothers were, as we are. That’s the truth, Isra. Once the demons have been removed from the guards, you’ll see that they are people just as we are. Good people at heart who have been badly used by demonkind. Have you never wondered why we were not sexually assaulted as well? I can only guess that is one sin the guards were able to fight. When you see Birk, you’ll believe what I say is true.”
“Birk? That bastard.” Isra spit on the ground between them. “I’d rather kill him.”
Selyn stroked one of the crystal blades. “He asked me to kill him. I chose instead to forgive him and ask him to help us. He is doing that, even now.”
Isra glared at her. “You may choose to forgive. That is your right. When I carry crystal, I will kill him and any other guard. Which of these is mine?”
“I don’t know.” Selyn picked up another bundle, carefully unwrapped it and lay the swords out on the table beside the first ones. “Each crystal will respond only to its master. The blade will glow. Do not try to pick up a sword that doesn’t glow for you.”
“Why?” Isra planted her fists on her hips. “What will happen if we choose the one we want?”
Selyn shrugged. “I imagine you could die.”
A soft gasp went up about the room. Isra’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped. “You’re lying.”
It had been a damned long day and an even longer week. She’d never been all that fond of Isra anyway. The woman’s temper was always sour, and she loved to harass anyone smaller or weaker than herself.
Selyn really didn’t have time for this right now. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “Fine, then. Go right ahead. See what happens when you decide to choose your own sword. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Of course, if you’re dead, you won’t be saying much at all, will you?”
Isra glared at her a moment. Then she planted a hand on Selyn’s chest and shoved her aside. Slowly she walked the length of the two long tables, studying each sword. Selyn ignored her and continued to unwrap the bundles. Carefully, touching only the silver hilt, she placed each new weapon beside the last.
They looked identical, but Selyn could feel a slight difference in each one, as if the individual personality of its spirit had somehow changed the balance, the grip, the way the crystal reflected light. None had yet glowed for her. She wasn’t worried. She knew there was a sword for her, one with a spirit that would match her perfectly.
Just as her mother’s spirit fit Eddy Marks.
Isra stopped and stared at Selyn. “I want this one.”
Selyn glanced at the sword. It looked just like all the others. “Does it glow for you?”
“What does that mean?”
“When you pass your hand over the blade, does the blade glow? Shimmer, as if from an inner light.”
“That’s a myth. They’re just swords.”
Selyn chuckled. “If you believe that, go right ahead. But I warn you once again, if the sword does not glow for you, it is not yours to claim.”
“You lie.” Isra grabbed the hilt of her chosen sword. Blue light flashed. She screamed and dropped the blade. The smell of burning flesh filled the room as Isra grabbed her singed hand and glared at Selyn. “I don’t know how, but you did that to me, bitch. Watch your back, Selyn. No one attacks me and lives to tell about it. No one.”
She spun around and shoved her way through the gathered women. Silently, Selyn watched her go. Then she went back to unpacking the swords, though once she glanced up at the others she wondered what they thought of Isra, if her words had frightened any of them. No matter. This was bigger than one ill-tempered woman.
The others milled about, staring curiously at the swords. No one remarked on Isra or her dramatic exit.
Selyn set another sword out on the table. “If you like, walk past the swords and hold your hand above each one for a moment. If the blade pulses with light, you may pick it up. The sword probably won’t speak to you, but the glow will tell you the blade is meant to be yours. But remember. Don’t talk about them away from here, and don’t let the guards see them. We can’t risk discovery. Not when we’re this close.”
“Which is yours?”
Selyn didn’t see who asked the question, but she merely set the next blade on the table. “I have no idea. I imagine one will glow for me as well.” At least she hoped that would happen. She opened the final bundle and set the swords out, one by one. None of these had acknowledged her. Not one of them was hers.
Almost thirty blades lay along the tables, half as many blades as there were women in the room. She stood back and watched as her sisters walked slowly along the tables. Hands hovered above swords with blades that reflected the light, but did not shimmer on their own.
“Nine hells! It glows for me.”
“Look. Selyn, come and see. Nica’s found one.”
She choked back the surge of jealousy that slammed into her. This was the reason she was here, why she’d carried swords to this room, to match them to their perfect mates. And if anyone in this room deserved crystal, it was Nica.
She’d long been Selyn’s friend, a quiet little thing who was a favorite among all of them with her good heart, yet strong sense of purpose. Nica stood in front of the glowing sword, transfixed by the shimmer and pulse of light along the crystal blade. Almost fearfully, she raised her head and stared at Selyn. “What do I do now?”
Selyn grinned at her. “Pick it up!”
Cautiously, Nica reached for the hilt. Her fingers trembled, her teeth worried her bottom lip, and she looked almost on the verge of tears. Then her fingers wrapped around the pommel, and it slipped perfectly into her grasp.
“Oh.”
Her soft whisper was almost lost in the brilliant flash of light from the blade. Nica raised her head, and this time her eyes glowed as brightly as her blade. “I feel it. The sword isn’t actually speaking to me, but I can feel a connection. She is meant to be with me.”
“That’s wonderful.” Selyn leaned close and kissed her cheek. “It looks good in your hand, though we’ll need to practice once everyone has met their match.” She glanced up. “And we’ll need a way to carry them. A scabbard or sheath of some kind. Something that will allow you to reach your sword easily in battle.”
One more thing to worry about. She glanced toward the door and hoped like the nine hells that none of the guards would come snooping around. They rarely came near the living quarters.
The women were still passing by the blades. More of them had found swords and connected with their match by the time the men returned with the second load of bundles. Dawson knelt and began unwrapping one. “I’m going to stay and help. Roland and Taron can manage the rest of the blades.”
“Good. The shift is about to change. We’ll have more women here in a moment. So far there are only a dozen or so matches.”
Nica joined Selyn and flopped down on the ground next to the bundle of swords Dawson was unwrapping. She cradled her own crystal blade in her lap. “To be exact, Selyn, there are fourteen matches, and one very pissed off Isra. Ignore her threat at your own risk. She is more hateful than ever.”
Dawson raised his head. “What threat? Who threatened you?”
“Nica’s exaggerating. It was nothing,” Selyn said.
“It was Isra,” Nica added. “She wanted a sword that had not acknowledged her. When Selyn warned her, she tried to take it anyway, and her fingers were badly burned.” Nica shook her head, all the while stroking her crystal blade. “She will be a dangerous enemy, Selyn. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Dawson grinned at her. “Neither do I, Nica. I want Selyn in one piece. Could this Isra be possessed?”
Nica shot a concerned glance at Selyn. “I don’t know. How do you tell?”
Dawson pointed to the blade in her lap. “Next time you’re near Isra, ask your blade. Some can tell. If she is possessed, we’ll know how to deal with her. If she’s just a bitch, that’s another problem.” He laughed. “Look. Two more blades have been claimed.”
“We need to get the rest of them up.” Selyn grabbed two more and set them out. Dawson helped, and before long the tables were covered in crystal swords.
Dawson looped an arm over her shoulders. “Yours must be in the last batch. Roland and Taron will be back soon. I imagine you’re growing anxious.”
She didn’t answer him. She watched as—one after another—more of her sisters claimed a shimmering crystal blade. The first group of women had either taken their swords and gone back to sleep or they’d left to take their shift in the mines. A few who’d been so quickly awakened hours earlier still waited, though the excitement levels were high enough to keep everyone alert.
The ones who’d just gotten off their shift were now looking over the blades, hearing the story of demon possession and the discovery of Artigos the Just.
Selyn was impressed by their calm acceptance of all that had happened, though she knew it wasn’t going to be easy to convince all of them that they would have to work with the same men who had been so cruel to them over the years.
Nor did she want to think of all they had to accomplish before this small army of slaves would be prepared to actually go forth and, if necessary, fight. None of them had ever imagined battling demonkind.
None had dreamed of ever holding crystal.
She had, though. Over the past few days, since meeting Roland and learning of the replicated swords, Selyn had dreamed of holding her very own blade, of finally understanding how her mother had felt as she’d marched into battle, paired with sentient crystal.
Where was her sword? What if it wasn’t in the last bundle?
Selyn hung on to Dawson and hoped she’d not be a Forgotten One when all the swords were finally matched to her sisters.
Chapter Eleven
Marigold Moonbeam Schwartz definitely had known better days. Even though she felt like she had to sit on her hands to keep from doing or saying something she’d regret, she managed to stay quietly in the shadows. Her mother was a skilled witch with years’ more experience than Mari, but it was so difficult not to make at least a few tiny suggestions.
Gritting her teeth, she breathed deeply of the soothing, vanilla-scented candle her mother had lit and set to one side of the daybed here in her parents’ home. With a studied patience she really didn’t feel, Mari watched while Spirit sprinkled herbs around the dazed and bound Lemurian chancellor, while Freedom, Mari’s dad and Spirit’s long-suffering spouse, sat and tapped out a monotonous rhythm on his worn set of bongo drums.
Thank goodness she had Darius here as a reminder that yes, magic did exist, and no, her parents were not nearly as loony as she’d always thought. And, if Mari still doubted, there was that sliver of bespelled crystal lodged forever in her heart, the crystal that—along with Darius’s crystal sword—had given her immortality.
Some days, the boring banker’s life she’d once led didn’t sound all that bad, but today was just flat out terrifying. Life had been simpler when all she’d had to worry about was whether or not she’d still have her job come morning, or who her ex-fiancé was sleeping with now.
Ever since Eddy Marks and her sexy lover Dax, the ex-demon, had brought Chancellor Artigos to her parents’ house last night, Mari had been worried. She was barely used to this whole “invasion by demons” thing, much less the fact that Lemurians weren’t just a silly legend after all, or that she was a witch with some pretty amazing powers she’d never expected.
Her skills as a witch were so new, however, that she’d immediately deferred to her mother’s expertise in the matter of drawing a demon out of the Lemurian leader. And she sure wished Eddy and Dax and even that talking dog of theirs had hung around a bit longer, but they’d gone without sleep for much too long and needed rest. Having Eddy and her amazing crystal sword close by with all this other weird shit going on was a constant reassurance to Mari that she wasn’t completely wacko.
There were only so many new things a girl should have to accept at one time, and this week had taken Mari over the top. In just the past few days she’d lost her job, her fiancé, her car, and her heart.
Literally.
Not only had she fallen in love with a Lemurian guardsman, she’d battled demons with magic and died.
None of that had been on her schedule when she’d headed home to Evergreen to help her mom run the little crystal shop Spirit had owned for almost forty years.
Neither had exorcising demons.
Now, though, Mari’s heart went out to Gaia, the Lemurian chancellor’s lovely wife. The woman obviously loved her husband and worried terribly about him. How she managed to sit so calmly with such a regal look about her while a strange witch and an even stranger wizard attempted a dangerous exorcism was beyond Mari. Of course, after this past week, Mari felt like there was a whole lot way beyond her.
Gaia had every right to be worried. Demon possession was a terrifying concept, and if what her old friend Eddy Marks had told her was even half true, demonkind had already staked a powerful foothold in Lemurian society and was currently pushing hard against Earth’s totally unprepared defenses.
She’d seen evidence of that push with her own eyes, right here in Evergreen. Thank goodness she had Darius and his amazing crystal sword for protection. Mari was getting better with her demon-killing spells, but she still had a long way to go before she could wield magic the way Darius wielded his crystal blade.
The chancellor let out a long, low groan. His body arched, straining against the ropes that tied him closely to the bed. Gaia leapt to her feet, but Darius was there immediately, catching hold of her arm and steadying her as her husband began to cry out, thrashing back and forth on the bed.
Spirit’s voice rose, and her rhyming chant took on a fierce resonance. Freedom pounded the drums harder and faster, until the thundering beat seemed to meld with Spirit’s spell.
The growing pressure in the room drew Mari to her feet. She moved closer to her mother as a palpable sense of dread closed in about them. Darius drew his sword while still keeping one arm wrapped tightly around Gaia’s slim waist.
He glanced at Mari.
Go to your mother,
he said, speaking to her, mind to mind.
She needs your strength to battle this demon. It feels like a powerful foe, one that intends to fight back.
Quickly Mari moved to stand beside her mother. Spirit reached for her without pausing in her continuous chant. Her hand latched tightly onto Mari’s.
The moment the two women connected, Spirit’s voice gained power. Vibrating now with Mari’s added strength, her words seemed to take on an actual presence. Freedom’s drumming picked up speed as Artigos writhed and twisted against his bonds.
Mari joined her mother’s chant. She had no idea how she knew the words to say, where she might have learned this spell, but she had no doubt she owned these words, this powerful magic. She raised her voice as if in song, chanting in counterpoint to her mother’s strong voice, adding her own pure contralto as she worked with Spirit to draw the demon out.
This was no common foe. It wasn’t anything like the simple creatures of darkness she’d fought with Darius. This
thing
that existed within Artigos, this powerful entity had grown in strength for millennia. Somehow, Mari knew it had sucked much of the life force from its host, existing as a parasite within the Lemurian leader. Feeding from him even as it controlled him.
Mari knew these things just as she knew the words to say. She had no idea how or why, or where her newfound magic powers came from, though she was learning to accept them. To accept the woman she was becoming, just as she accepted that tiny shard of crystal embedded in her heart—a piece of magic that had changed her life forever.
She felt Darius beside her and loved him all the more for his steady presence and honor, for the strength he gave so freely so that she might work this spell. She had accepted him just as easily—evidence of the changes in her life and herself.
Aware of the growing magic—of the power pouring through her body—Mari raised her hands above her head. Vaguely she sensed when her mother stepped back and relinquished the spell to her.
Without truly understanding how or why she knew what to do, Mari let her hands fly in an intricate dance, as if she drew forth a long thread from the chancellor’s body. Singing now in an unfamiliar language, her voice rose and fell in an ancient rhyme, in words only the demon would understand.
Hand over hand, she pulled an invisible thread from Artigos’s body. She could feel the thread. It was no longer something of her imagination. Now it was an ice cold line with tensile strength, anchored tightly to something within the chancellor, pulling back even as Mari pulled forth with all her might.
Artigos had stopped fighting her and lay still. His eyes were wide open, and he watched her, but she knew the demon saw through the chancellor’s eyes. Hatred burned in him and the sense of dread, of evil, grew stronger the harder Mari tugged the invisible line.
The drumming became a heartbeat, a thundering call to the demon that the creature fought with all his ancient power. He denied its seductive lure with every bit of his evil will, but Mari was stronger. Her voice rose and fell in song, and her fingers danced, hand over hand, straining at the heavy weight that somehow anchored the line deep within the Lemurian chancellor.
The thread glowed a dark and fiery red, yet the temperature in the room dropped until Mari’s breath puffed from between her lips in frozen clouds of steam. She pulled harder, but the demon actively fought her now, until it felt as if she were trying to land a huge fish on the end of a line. Her hands burned from the horrible cold and the sharp bite of the line she pulled. The tension grew stronger, as if the demon wanted to drag her down with it, down into the hell that had been the chancellor’s soul.
Blood flecked her hands where the frozen line cut into her fingers, but she wrapped it around her palms and pulled even harder. Her shoulders ached, and her fingers burned. Her breath came in gasps.
Spirit moved close and stood behind her daughter. She rested her hands on Mari’s shoulders, sharing her strength and holding her steady.
Power bloomed in Mari—her mother’s power—and she reached down, closer to the chancellor’s rigid body, until she grabbed hold of the icy line close up against his chest, wrapped it once again around both her hands in spite of the blood and the pain, and gave a mighty pull.
There was a horrible screeching sound, as if metal dragged against metal. Artigos cried out, and the room filled with the sulfuric stench of demon.
Spirit fell back, and Freedom’s hands paused above his drums. Eyes wide, he stared at the black, oily mass that Mari dragged slowly out of Chancellor Artigos. The bound man screamed again, a horrible shriek of unimaginable pain.
Gaia cried out and reached for her husband, but Darius shoved her behind him. He thrust savagely with his crystal blade and caught the demon as it began to take shape mere inches above the chancellor’s body—but it wasn’t focusing on Artigos.
It was looming over Mari, growing in form and substance, finding its demonic shape, and reaching for her with multiple arms and long, sharp claws.
Darius’s sword passed through the oily mass. Sparks flew, and the creature howled, but Mari still held on to the line connecting her to the fearsome thing.
“Mari!” Darius shouted as he drove his blade into the demon. “Turn it loose. Let it go!”
Mari untangled her hands and dropped the line. She spun out of the way as Darius struck the demon once again. This time his blade cut true. More sparks flashed. There was a loud concussion that felt and sounded like a sonic boom. The demon let out a horrible banshee cry and burst into a roiling ball of fire that blossomed upward, spreading out in a mushroom cloud of smoke and flames against the ceiling.
Freedom grabbed Spirit and rolled her to the floor, protecting her body with his. Darius shielded his eyes with his left arm and swept his crystal blade through the remnants of the dying demon. Then, as the flames and smoke dissipated, he quickly sheathed his blade and reached for Mari.
She’d thrown herself over the chancellor’s body to protect him from the burning demon. Now, head down and gasping for air, she trembled from head to foot as she pushed herself away from the man and reached for Darius. He leaned over and gathered her up in his arms. Blood trickled from her hands and ran down her wrists, but she didn’t care. Hanging tightly to his neck, she hugged him close as he carried her across the room to an overstuffed couch and sat down with her in his lap.
Gaia ran to her husband’s side. “Artigos? My love, are you all right?”
“I need to go to him.” Mari tried to crawl out of Darius’s arms, but he held her close.
“Not yet,” he whispered. “Let Gaia have a moment with her husband. She’s the one he should respond to, if he can.”
Spirit and Freedom—who moved slowly and painfully from recent surgery—walked unsteadily across the room. Spirit flopped down on the couch beside Darius and Mari. She handed Mari a towel to wipe the blood from her hands, staring blankly at her daughter and shaking her head in disbelief. Then she let out a big breath of air and said, “What the fuck was that?”
“Mother!” Mari choked back a startled laugh.
Spirit just shook her head. “I’m serious. Really. What was that disgusting thing?”
“That was a demon, Mother. A very large and powerful demon, if I’m right.”
Darius kissed the top of Mari’s head. “I’ve seen a lot of demons, but I’ve never seen anything like that one. It was beginning to take form when I killed it, something they can’t easily do in this dimension.” He sighed and stared at Gaia and Artigos. “I imagine it’s been part of the chancellor for so long that it’s gained strength from him, living off his life force.”
“Look.” Mari gestured toward Gaia and Artigos. Gaia had loosened the ropes that bound her husband and was helping him sit up. He appeared confused, but at least he was alive. This time when Mari tried to stand up, Darius turned her free.
She helped Gaia get the chancellor settled on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay, Chancellor?”
Artigos gazed at Mari with an almost childlike expression. Then he turned to his wife. “Who is she, Gaia, my dear? Who is this woman, and why does she wear such strange garments?”
Mari glanced down at her faded blue jeans and the ribbed sweater she wore. Softly, she said, “I’m Mari, Chancellor. I helped remove a demon that’s been living inside you.”
He stared at Mari for a long moment. Then he merely looked away and smiled at his wife. “Will you take me home, my love? I really want to go home now.”
Gaia smiled, but her eyes were filled with tears. “Later, Arti. When you’ve rested. Lie down now, dear, and sleep.”
He nodded, still smiling sweetly. Then he obediently turned and lay back down on the bed. Gaia covered him with a soft quilt. Freedom quietly gathered up his drums, and Spirit swept up the herbs she’d scattered. The last thing she did was lean over and blow out the vanilla-scented candle she’d left burning beside the daybed.