Jeaniene Frost - The Beautiful Ashes

I was in full agreement, but he was talking to Demetrius. The demon let out another growl, his shadows increasing even more. Then they began to spin, forming into multiple funnel clouds that whipped up the sand and caused the cars nearest him to slowly slide and spin.

“The Davidian is mine,” Demetrius hissed.

“Uh, time to go, Adrian,” I said nervously.

“Our cars are smashed,” was his grim response.

“Stop the theatrics, Demetrius,” Zach said, still in that calm tone. “You can’t defeat an officer of the Most High.”

“If that’s what you are,” the demon responded with luxuriant hatred. “I know all the officers, because once, I was one, yet none of them are named Zacchaeus.” Then he cocked his head as if curious. “You could be concealing your identity behind that name and your human shell, but if you are what you claim, why not smite me along with my servants?”

“Those weren’t my orders,” Zach replied indifferently.

Why not? I wanted to yell, but kept backing away with Adrian. We were now even with the ruined sanctuary, the desert spreading out like a blank canvas behind us.

“Orders.” Scorn dripped from Demetrius’s tone. “Don’t you ever weary of those?”

Zach’s mouth curled into the faintest of smiles. “Some days.”

“Then free yourself,” Demetrius commanded. “Live under your own rule as we do, my brother.”

Then he said something in a language that reminded me of Demonish, if you took out all the harsh syllables and replaced them with lyrical exquisiteness. Zach replied in the same language, and I almost closed my eyes in bliss. Nothing had ever sounded so beautiful. Of course, if he was accepting Demetrius’s offer, we were both dead.

“Do you know what they’re saying?” I whispered to Adrian.

He kept backing us away. “Demetrius said his people would soon claim this realm, and he urged Zach to join them. Zach refused.”

That had pissed off the demon, clearly. I watched with dread as Demetrius’s funnel clouds grew into what looked like F-4 tornados, tossing up debris from the crumpled sanctuary. One of the minion’s cars flipped over, setting off an alarm.

“Are you able to run, Ivy?” Adrian asked, his voice barely audible over the wind and whooping car alarm.

I felt like I didn’t have the energy to crawl, but if my life depended on it? Yep. “What about Costa and the others?”

“They’re dead,” Adrian replied flatly.

Despair made me stumble. I didn’t even remember all their names, and they’d died because of me. How many more would die if I kept going after that weapon to save my sister?

“Go now,” Adrian urged, releasing my hand.

What about you? I was about to ask, then light crashed around us, briefly illuminating everything with noonday clarity. I saw arms and legs amidst the rubble, the back end of the truck that had demolished the sanctuary, piles of ashes blowing away and every nuance of Demetrius’s shocked expression as his wall of tornados abruptly dissipated.

Zach’s hand dropped, but light still pulsed beneath his skin, as if his veins had been replaced with streaks of electricity. “Leave, Demetrius,” he said in the sudden silence.

“Who are you?” the demon almost whispered.

Zach’s stare didn’t waver. “This is your final warning.”

Demetrius disappeared, taking the wispy remains of his ruined shadows with him. I would’ve let out a triumphant whoop if I wasn’t so upset by the senseless loss.

“Everyone else is dead,” I said, my tone as flat as Adrian’s. “Why didn’t you show up before, Zach?”

“I wasn’t sent,” he replied, the answer making me want to scream. “Besides, not all are dead. Some are asleep.”

With that, he walked over to the rubble and grasped a dirty, limp hand. Costa came up from the rocks with a gasp, his gaze darting around as if expecting an attack.

“Don’t be afraid,” Zach stated. “You are safe.”

And uninjured, judging from how easily Costa moved once he was free from the rocks. I stared, disbelief turning to amazement. No way had he only been “asleep.” He still had bullet holes in his shirt, not to mention he’d been buried under a stone building; yet now, he looked in better shape than me.

One glance at Adrian’s face confirmed it. He stared at Zach while his expression changed from shock to expectancy.

“Wake the rest of them up,” he said with barely contained vehemence.

Zach didn’t reply, but he did go over to another motionless body part and then pulled up a perfectly healthy Tucco.

“What happened to the minions?” Tucco asked, shaking the dust and debris out of his hair.

“Ashes,” Adrian responded in a terse tone.

“Bueno,” was Tucco’s reply, followed by, “Where’s Tomas?”

“In the sanctuary,” I said, my voice catching on the next word. “Asleep.”

“Not asleep. Tomas is dead,” Zach corrected, no emotion in his tone.

Adrian strode over, gripping Zach by the collar of his pullover sweater. “Wake. Him. Up,” he said through gritted teeth.

Zach’s handsome features stayed in that serene mask. “He is dead,” he replied, spacing out the words like Adrian had. “Neither your demands nor your anger can change that.”

“But you can save him,” I burst out, rushing over to grip the Archon’s sleeve. “ Please, save him.”

Zach looked at Adrian and me before brushing our hands aside. “His time had come, as with the other two. It is done.”

Then he walked away, adding, “There are others you can still save, if you haven’t given up. Tickets are waiting at the Durango airport. Whatever you decide, don’t remain here. Demetrius will soon find his courage and return.”

As Zach disappeared, one of the formerly silent cars revved to life. The four of us stared at it for a moment, and then, by unspoken agreement, climbed inside.

I didn’t know if the rest of them were motivated by survival instinct, but I knew why I got into the car, and it wasn’t just because I wanted away from the sanctuary of death behind us. I might be angry, confused and in desperate need of a shower, but I still wasn’t ready to give up.

Adrian used the last of the manna he’d stuffed in his pocket to heal our injuries on our way to the airport. Tucco got off on our first layover in Mexico City. Costa, Adrian and I continued to our plane’s final destination of Miami, Florida. I’d learned on the flight there that Costa and Tomas lived in Miami, and they’d journeyed to Durango to help Adrian after he called them. Now only Costa had survived to make the trip home.

Their house was a former church located only two blocks from the beach. It even had a steeple with a cross on top. When Costa showed me around, I realized that he and Tomas had closed in that soaring, pointed ceiling, turning it into the house’s second floor. That was where I stayed, in Tomas’s old room, and for the first day, all I did was sleep.

The second day, I went to the beach. I wasn’t trying to work on my tan, but the sun, heat and tropical scenery made it the exact opposite of the demon realm, and I gratefully soaked up the differences. Already, I couldn’t stand the cold or dark. I’d kept the lights on when I slept, something I hadn’t done since I was child, and if the air conditioning dipped too low, a feeling of dread washed over me.

Costa said that no one left the realms the same way they entered them. Adrian had warned me, too. They were both right.

I stayed at the beach the whole afternoon, moving under the shade of the pavilion when my skin began to redden. Late October in Miami felt like June in Virginia, but the beach wasn’t crowded, probably because it was a Thursday. Back at WMU, Delia and the rest of my friends would be making their weekend plans. They knew which bars had a strict ID policy and which didn’t, plus there were always parties on or around campus. I’d joined them on the classes-parties seesaw for the past two years, but it almost seemed strange to realize I’d be doing that again if I went back home. I’d often had to fake my enthusiasm for going out, and that was before I knew the freaky things I saw were real. Now? I couldn’t pretend to be impressed by some drunken guy pulling off a keg stand. Kick a demon’s ass, that’ll impress me.