“No one asks us to enjoy anything, child. Only to endure.”
Endure. The word echoed in my mind as I approached the pool’s edge, my heart already hammering against my ribs. I would endure the water, endure the fear, endure whatever waited for me at Evermere. And then, if the Devil’s luck stayed with me, I would find Eluned and ensure Mother never discovered our failure.
With one last deep breath, I stepped into the lake, feeling the cold water climb my legs like grasping hands, and surrendered myself to the journey I dreaded most.
#
The water spat me out at the edge of Evermere’s lake like something distasteful, and I crawled onto the muddy shore on hands and knees, retching and gasping. Every nerve ending screamed from the cold, from the sensation of being unmade and remade through miles of suffocating liquid. It was official: I hated water travel with a passion that bordered on phobia. The crushing pressure, the disorientation, the absolute certainty with each passing second that I would never do this again.
I collapsed among the bulrushes, my sodden clothes clinging to my skin like a shroud, and focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. The morning sun had climbed higher now, warming my face even as my body trembled with cold and delayed panic. Ondine had warned me the journey would be difficult due to the distance, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it.
The water had felt sentient, malevolent even, as it pulled me down and through, twisting me along currents that seemed to delight in my terror. I’d lost all sense of direction, of time, of self. Only the desperate need to find Eluned had kept me from surrendering to the darkness that pressed against my consciousness.
I spat out the last taste of lake water and forced myself to focus. I’d survived. I’d arrived. Now I needed to complete my mission.
Crawling deeper into the cover of the reeds, I surveyed my surroundings. Evermere spread before me, more impressive than I’d expected. The manor house rose from manicured lawns in a harmonious blend of modern and traditional architecture, glass and stone married in clean lines that spoke of wealth and taste. Around it, forest pressed close on three sides, while the fourth opened to this lake, its surface now placid and innocent in the morning light.
No obvious guards patrolled the grounds, but that meant nothing. The Cimmerians were dhampirs, dangerous and powerful. Their defenses would be subtle, magical rather than physical. I clutched at the wet fabric over my heart, feeling the small bulge of Mother’s favor token in my inner pocket.
Thank the Devil it hadn’t been lost in the water.
I needed to move quickly. The scrying mirror had shown Serafina and her husbands were away from the house, but I couldn’t count on them staying gone for long. And somewhere within those walls, Eluned was being held.Ifshe still lived.
The thought sent a fresh spike of anger through me. Returning to Mother without her was unthinkable.
A movement on the path leading from the house caught my eye, and I froze, pressing myself deeper into the reeds. A gardener, human from the looks of him, emerged pushing a wheelbarrow. He wore earbuds and hummed tunelessly as he made his way toward a small shed at the edge of the property.
I needed to act now, while human eyes were the only ones watching.
With trembling fingers, I extracted the favor token from my pocket. The small black stone was unnaturally dry despite my soaking clothes, its crimson symbol seeming to pulse against my palm.
A summoning token was dangerous, unpredictable. The demon bound to it would fulfill one request, but often in ways that created more problems than they solved. Still, I had no choice. I couldn’t approach Evermere directly, not with the magical safeguards that undoubtedly surrounded it.
I crawled toward a cluster of willow trees that would provide better cover, wincing as my knees sank into the muddy shore. Once hidden beneath the drooping branches, I cupped the token between my palms and focused my magic into it, feeling the stone grow warm, then hot against my skin.
“By blood and bargain, I summon thee,” I whispered, the ritual words tasting like ash on my tongue. “By pact and payment, come to me.”
The air between my hands thickened, darkened, as if shadow itself was congealing into something solid. The token grew hotter still, until I had to fight the urge to drop it. A smell like burning hair and rotting meat filled my nostrils, making my eyes water and my stomach heave. The token shattered between my palms, its fragments dissolving into oily black smoke that pooled on the ground before me. The smoke churned and bubbled, rising in a twisting column that gradually took shape, not quite solid, not quite vapor.
The demon that materialized was smaller than I’d expected, perhaps the height of a child, but there was nothing childlike about its appearance. Its form kept shifting, as if it couldn’t decide on a single shape, but certain features remained constant: too many limbs, moving independently; a cluster of yellow eyes that blinked asynchronously; a mouth that split its face like a wound, lined with jagged teeth that protruded at odd angles.
The stench intensified. Sulfur and decay mingled with something metallic, like blood left too long in the sun. I gagged, but forced myself to maintain eye contact with the creature. To show weakness now would be fatal.
“Daughter of Arabesque,” it hissed, its voice like insects crawling over dry leaves. “The mother’s debt is called by the child?”
“I claim the service owed to my mother,” I replied, proud that my voice remained steady despite the terror clawing at my throat.
The demon’s form rippled, limbs rearranging themselves into a mockery of a bow.
“Thy wish, mistress? Thy desire? Thy doom?”
I ignored the implied threat. All demons tried to frighten their summoners; it was part of their nature. Rather crass and cliche, really
“I need entry to that house,” I said, pointing toward Evermere. “Undetected.”
The demon’s many eyes swiveled to follow my gesture, then returned to fix on me with unsettling intensity. Its mouth stretched wider in what might have been a smile, revealing more teeth than should have been possible.
“The dhampir nest,” it said, sounding almost delighted. “Their blood tastes of stars and darkness. Old magic, both vampiric and royal, guards their threshold.”
