Page 45
call we
Above as below so
Known be sealed
is what let”
The unprotected circle around them flared with dramatic sizzle. Then slowly a seam split in the air, narrow as a scar, then steadily widened with a sound of thousands of drums beating throughout the night, blending into the cadence of the thunderstorm.
Shadows bled outward from the tear, mimicking fog rolling in the bay on a stormy summer’s night. Wind snaked through their clothing, forcing all in the clearing to wrap their arms protectively around their bodies.
Kieran laughed.
The ground pulsed beneath their feet, louder and prominent, forcing their attention on balancing upright. Then, the creatures came; their unformed beings of black mist. Slowly, they transformed into impressions of slick gelatinous skin. Eyes dangled from melting faces, limbs unfolded and screeches emitted from their inky lips.
And so I curled against the blanket of clouds and watched.
The creatures unspooled, scattering across the group loping with ease and searching carefully.
Christian stiffened, fully aware of what, or better who, these beings were. Kieran had dissected them and harnessed their blood—the very black tar that dripped from their lips, and flowed from their eyes. They were all his very own experiments, dumped in the only world where his mistakes could live. But Christian had been the one to deliver these bodies to Kieran for experimentation. For the search of a panacea. For silly hope.
A scream filled the air as Cassandra rushed to Killian, collapsing against him. “The salt! It’s no use.”
Irene stepped back, her gaze unwavering as she stared into the black irises of a disfigured body. Even Killian, with his intense predatory urges, recoiled at the sight of their blood.
Still, the group wanted more and the demons were no scare for their thirst for power.
They who yield power, hold life at their fingertips.
“Kieran, I think they’re here for you,” Christian said, so sure of himself. The first tendril of something far worse, emerged slowly from the tear. He stepped back, but before he could escape, the ground itself grabbed ahold of his ankles—black, mottled bones anchoring him into place. “No,” he breathed. “Not now. Not when I’m so close—” A force slammed into his chest. Violent enough to knock the air from his lungs. His heart hammered painfully, his lungs seizing as the pressure from the blow lingered.
More disfigured hands surged from the ground. So many of them burst forth, racing for his calves. Another stretched, reaching and wrapping around his waist. Another, clamped onto his wrist, eager in its approach. “What is the endgame?” Christian’s voice is barely perceptible above the chaos. The creatures dragged, pulling him toward the dark rupture. He tried to hold his ground, boots dragging lines in the dirt.
Everyone aside from Kieran watched with bated breath. There, before them, woefully and awe invoking was another world so full of darkness and soul, they couldn’t help but watch the way Kieran watched his experiments.
The talisman flickered wildly in Kieran’s hands, reacting to the world between life and death.
Christian’s breath came sharp, snagging against the pressure building under his ribs.
Kieran stepped toward the writhing figures, staring unwaveringly into the eyes of Christian. “Do you know what my mother shared with me the night we did that prank?”
Christian sliced Kieran with an incredulous look. He felt thick wet droplets trickling down his face and into his mouth.
“Did you know my father went into the Limina to save you? You died in childbirth, did you know? It was because of an irrelevant child that my father Victor Lazarus became lost. For you.” Spittle flew from Kieran’s lips.
Christian knew Kieran’s lies knew no bounds, but that had been the worst he’d heard of.
“Kieran!” Cassandra screamed, though she did not move an inch. None of them did.
Christian gave them a once over—the group he’d given so many secrets to, laid bare his life for, and given up so much. All of the bodies, missing people, dead ones that Daisy had delivered to him. Every moment was washed clean.
This was the exact moment Kieran was waiting for though. The bait for which he would travel into the shadow world and work on his well-awaited experiments. A double entendre of soul traveling and Immorcantem harvesting. The creatures would be happy securing the infamous Christian Valen in their throes. It would give Kieran the much needed time to lord his control and I will be the judge of that.
“Let them take him,” Kieran whispered to himself. “He belongs to the devils he’s made.” Kieran stepped away from the man that was his own flesh and bone.
The wobbling bodies of the creatures surged toward Christian. A blade of shadow pierced his chest.
The tear in reality widened. The dark shadow world breathed Christian in, pulling him further into the unknown. He clawed at the ground, fingers digging into mud. It did nothing to anchor him in the real world. His lungs flooded with the rotting stench, each inhale heavier than the last. “Lazarus—” he rasped, betrayal cutting sharper than fear ever could.
