Eileen Wilks: Mortal Danger

“Lily,” Cullen said.

She looked over Max’s head at him.

He stood alone now, holding a silver athame—a ceremonial knife—in one hand. The three women sat in the grass a few feet away, still chanting softly. The candles were burning.

She took a deep breath and touched the canvas cases hung from her belt that carried extra clips. Show time.

Lily’s part in the ritual was passive. From this point on she wasn’t to speak, not until she crossed. He would tie the gate to her, as he’d suggested—he’d won that argument— but she need only stand there and let him do it.

That, and bleed a bit.

Lily walked over to him and felt nothing—not a trace, not a whisper of magic, though it must be thick in the air. She closed her mind to that loss and held out her left hand.

He murmured something, the words soft and foreign. Then he took her hand in his, palm up, and ran the blade of his athame across the heel of her palm. It burned. Blood welled up quickly, and Cullen murmured more words. Then he turned her hand palm down and shook it, sprinkling the earth with her blood as he called out one word three times.

Vertigo seized her, a twisting, scraping otherness that slid inside, settling in her gut and turning her senses crazy. The world spun, and she staggered. Cullen’s arm came around her waist, steadying her.

Gradually the world steadied, but the sense of otherness remained. She felt as if some bizarre geometry had been planted in her middle and was busily making itself at home.

She straightened and gave Cullen a nod.

He stepped back. Using the tip of his bloody knife, he began tracing the doorway that would surround the altar. Light followed the athame like the afterglow from a sparkler as he slit the fabric between the realms, and when he finished the air shimmered. It was like looking through heat waves.

Lily put a hand on her stomach. The shimmer somehow matched the shifting geometry in her gut. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. She looked over her shoulder.

At her glance, Cynna bent her knees and Max climbed aboard. She’d have to duck to get through, but they’d fit. Cullen tucked his athame in his belt and slipped on the harness that held the rocket launcher, a huge tube almost as tall as he was. He picked up his machine gun and took his place at the rear.

They’d go through single-file. Lily gave them all a nod, unslung her M-16, and walked toward the shimmering air. Four paces, duck as she stepped over the alter—and into hell.

Where a battle already raged.

A small fire smoldered in the center of the rocky chamber Rule had led them to. It was a Swiss-cheese sort of a space, the walls holed in several places, with fissures in the ceiling. Some of the smoke from the fire escaped through those overhead cracks, but the fire still made the room smoky without providing much light.

Better than no light at all, though. Lily hugged her knees. Thank goodness Gan had been able to bring a load of firewood. She was small enough that she hadn’t had to crawl the way Lily had in the worst of the passages. Things could be worse.

Who was she kidding? She hated this. Hated it. But not as much as Rule did.

How had he done it? How had he made himself keep coming back to these tunnels, over and over, hunting a way out? She’d known it took a toll on him, but she hadn’t understood, not really. Not until she followed him into a darkness so heavy it had seemed to press the air from her lungs.

She had no idea how long it had taken them to reach this chamber, where the air was good and the ceiling was higher than her outstretched hands. Probably not the hours it had seemed. They’d trended more up than down, though. Were they anywhere near the top of the cliff where the dragons gathered to sing?

Gan spoke suddenly, her voice high and scratchy. “Xitil’s called Earth-Mover, you know.”

“Does that mean what it sounds like?”

Gan nodded miserably. “She could bring it all down on us. It’d be easy for her.”

“Good thing she wants me alive, then.”

“But she’s nuts,” Gan whispered.

Rule lifted his head and snarled.

“I’m pretty sure that means ‘shut up,’” Lily said. “Besides, didn’t you say dragons damped magic or sucked it up or something?”

“Demon magic, yeah, but Xitil’s got goddess stuff in her now! Who knows what that could do? She might be able to—”

“Shut up, Gan.”

The demon swallowed and, for a wonder, fell silent.

Rule laid his head on his paws again, and Lily went back to passing the time the only way she could, by playing her memory game. Where was she?

Oh, yeah. Water beds. That had sprung to mind earlier, when she’d been sitting by the ocean. Before things went all to hell.

Waterbeds sounded wonderful. Imagine a bed filled with water… how soft would that be? You had to pump the water in… Pumps, yes, she remembered pumps. Though the one she saw in her mind’s eye wasn’t for water, but for air. For filling up bicycle tires.

Had she ridden a bicycle? She felt a touch of excitement. It made sense that she’d remember the kind of pump she knew best, didn’t it? She couldn’t picture a pump for a waterbed at all. Maybe she’d never had a waterbed, but she had owned a bicycle.

What kind of bicycle? There were racers and…

Rule’s head shot up. He almost quivered with sudden tension.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He got to his feet and paced a few steps, looking at the rock overhead, making a whining sound. He looked at her and then at the rocky ceiling. Then he shook his head hard, as if trying to clear it, and whined softly.

“What is it? Gan, what does he mean?”

“Nothing.” Gan looked disgusted. “He’s not making any sense.”

“Rule?” Scared for more than one reason now, she went to kneel beside him. “Are you all right?”

He whined again, louder and longer, and then looked at the demon.

“He wants you to tell me!” she cried. “Try. Try hard.”

Gan rolled her eyes. “It’s nonsense. Something about you being out there and in here, too.”

Rule yipped. Then he took her wrist between his teeth gently and tugged as he took a step away.

He wanted her to come with him. She drew a shaky breath and stood. “All right. Are you coming, Gan?”

Rule immediately trotted into one of the black, black holes. That one was a little roomier than some, at least. Though it probably wouldn’t stay that way.

“Follow that idiot? He’s lost it. You’d better stay here.”

She just shook her head and, heart pounding, followed Rule into the darkness.

THEY wouldn’t have survived their first five minutes in hell if the terrain where they came out had matched Earth’s. They’d left a flat, low bluff. They came out into low, craggy mountains. Mountains where creatures were busy killing each other, while overhead, legend battled with nightmare.

“I’m running low on ammo,” Cynna called. “I have to reload.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Lily said. She was hunkered down behind a rocky outcrop. They had no cover overhead, but the aerial battle was a mile behind them now. Just as well. Not only was it dangerous, it was distracting. She’d never thought dragons existed, and to see them flying, fighting… she’d remember that always. And have nightmares about what they fought.

If she lived long enough to dream, that is.

Their progress had been halted in this rough pass between two low peaks. Trapped might be the word to describe their situation.

Crossing itself had been easy. The shimmer in the air had sort of shimmered through her as she stepped through the gate. Then she’d been elsewhere… a dark, nighttime elsewhere, with four man-sized demons standing fifteen feet away, staring at her in obvious shock.