Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 3, Portal Guardians (27 page)

"You deserved it," he said, shrugging.
 
"You want to play, you suffer the consequences."

She nodded slowly, looking Spike up and down.
 
"On second thought, maybe I will go back to the Underworld ... and take you with me."
 
She licked her lips, her intentions more than clear.

I stepped a little closer to her.
 
"Hands off, harpy.
 
He's mine."

"I'll fight you for him," she said matter-of-factly.

"No!" said Spike a little too loudly.
 
He cleared his throat and started again, "No, that won't be necessary.
 
I'm with Jayne, and she's the only one I want to be with, so you'd be wasting your time."

She looked right at him, her eyes swirling with red and black.
 
"Don't be so sure about that, incubussss ..."
 
She tipped her head down a little but kept up her intense gaze.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday!" yelled Tim.
 
"Demon mesmerizing, twelve o'clock!"
 
He flew over, detaching his fanny pack as he went.
 
Before I could move a muscle, he got to Spike's face, drew back with the fanny pack, and let it fly, nailing Spike right in the eye.

"Ow!
 
Shit!" Spike yelled, grabbing his face and spinning around, slightly bent over.
 
"Holy ...
dammit!
 
Jayne!
 
What the hell?!"
 
He tried to pull his hand away, but apparently the fanny pack injury was too painful.
 
He hissed and left his cupped palm over it as he stood back up, glaring at Tim with his one good eye.

"Yeah!
 
Take that, demon wench!" yelled Tim, flipping Moriah the bird as he flew backwards towards me, his fanny pack back on and cinched-up tight.

I was sincerely glad she was chained at the waist to the wall; otherwise, we'd probably all be part of Moriah's all-you-can eat buffet right now, served up hot and fresh, room service even.
 
I rubbed Spike's back as I tried to regroup and figure out whether we should just leave or keep trying to get her to help.

"Pixies are just as annoying here as they are in my realm, I see," she said, sighing and stepping back towards the wall.
 
She leaned against it, her wings pushing a little out to the side.
 
Her thigh-high boots and leathery, strappy pants making her look like a crazy S&M goth hooker.

I ignored her insult, but Tim let out a tiny fart.

"Good one, Tim.
 
You told her."

I received another one right by my ear for my unappreciated support.

I sighed.
 
"Listen, Moriah, we don't have a lot of time.
 
Are you going to deal or not?
 
Let me know and stop fucking around, or we're just going to leave you and your torn-up wings here to rot."

"What do you have that I want?
 
That is how you make a deal with a demon.
 
I believe you are already familiar with the process, are you not?"

My face colored with the memory.
 
"Shut up."

"Oh, I'm sorry ... is that a sore spot for you?
 
Do your friends not know that you allowed a demon to come and live amongst you here in your realm?"

"They know."

"Uhhh ... not sure that we do," said Spike, looking over at me, his one eye still covered.

I glance at him briefly before facing Moriah again.
 
"I'll tell you later.
 
It's not a big deal."

"She's right.
 
Torrie is of no consequence to us anymore.
 
He got what he wanted.
 
We have others making sure the wheels continue to turn.
 
Tell me, elemental ... what are you willing to sacrifice to get where you want to go?"

"Not much," I said honestly.
 
"I have someone else who can help me, so I don't necessarily need you.
 
You're just easier to get to right now."

She frowned
 
"And who would this demon be who would so willingly help you, I wonder?"

No way was I giving her Garrett's name.
 
He couldn't possibly be on her side.

"No matter," she said, dismissing her own question with a careless wave. "I am willing to make a bargain.
 
You want to go to the Underworld? ... I can take you."

"What do you want in return?" I asked, wary now about the whole trickery that could be involved in the wording of these deals.
 
I didn't want another Torrie debacle on my hands.

"Not much," she shrugged, "just that you agree to give me my weapon back."

"Careful, Jayne," said Tim. "Demons are sneaky,
especially
the female ones."

I ignored him, the alarm bells already going off in my head at her request.
 
That was the weapon that had almost killed me.
 
I could still feel the ache in my shoulder, even though I knew the wound was fully healed now.

"So you just want your sword back?" I confirmed.

"Yes.
 
I want you to agree to give me my sword back."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Spike beat me to it.
 
"That's not what Jayne said.
 
She said that you want your sword back, not that she'd agree to give it back to you.
 
How about if I go get it and give it to you, would that work?"

My heart sang at my brilliant boyfriend's response.
 
He totally got this demon thing.
 
I didn't really care how he knew so much about doing it, either.
 
He was watching my back as usual.
 
I waited for her answer, hardly breathing.

"It's the same thing," she said, staring me down and ignoring Spike.
 
"Semantics.
 
Do we have a deal?"

I reached over and took Spike's hand for courage and to let him know we were a team, saying, "The deal is that if you agree to bring us to the Underworld, Spike will go get your weapon and hand it to you.
 
Right?"

Her voice was as cool as a cucumber, and the rest of her body screamed
no big deal
, but her nostrils?
 
Not so much.
 
They were flaring out like a pair of wings that were going to start flapping around and fly her ass out of here.
 
She nodded.
 
"Yes.
 
You agree to give me back my weapon in exchange for safe passage.
 
It's a deal."

I shook my head.
 
"Nope.
 
Sorry.
 
That wasn't the deal."

Moriah leaped forward, opening her mouth so wide, and letting out a shriek so unholy awful, I nearly peed myself.
 
I for sure lost a couple years off my life - maybe a decade, even.
 
It was like her jaw had come unhinged, boa constrictor-style, and long, pointy teeth that I didn't know were in there gaped out at me.
 
She was like a great white shark leaping out of the water to eat the end of a boat, and I was the boat.

Luckily that chain around her waist was made of something stronger than me, and kept her from getting close enough to touch us.
 
The drool coming off her fangs looked like acid the way it bubbled inside her mouth, and I wasn't surprised at all when it hissed as it hit the ground.

"Now that is some nasty-ass drool," I said, staring in sick fascination at her face as it quickly morphed back into the beautiful demon woman it had been before she'd lost her shit.

"Thought you were smarter than us, didn't you, demon tramp?!
 
Boo yah!
 
In yo ugly demon-serpent
face!
" yelled Tim, flying circles around my head, making me dizzy.
 
"Let me pixie her ugly butt, Jayne.
 
Let's watch a demon get high on my dust.
 
Come on, it'll be fun."

"Keep your butt dust leashed there, Farticus, we need to figure out what the deal is with this sword."

"How about this ... ," said Spike, " ... we agree to take you back with us, if you show us how to get to the Underworld."

"No.
 
Not without my sword."
 
Her lips thinned and her jaw muscle twitched.
 
I was fully prepared for her to become unhinged again - literally and figuratively - any second.

"Who owns the sword now?
 
Who has the right to the sword?" asked Spike.
 
He was studying her so closely, I thought for a second he might be mesmerized again; but then he looked at me and winked his bloodshot, fanny-packed eye, and I knew he wasn't.

"How do I know?" she shrugged, looking around the room as if suddenly interested in its square architecture and boring stone walls.

"Jayne does," said Tim.
 
"Demon-wench lost the battle, so she forfeits her weapon to the one more powerful than her.
 
That's Jayne; Jayne owns it!"
 
He flew down onto my shoulder and started dancing.
 
"Whoo hoo, Jayne owns a demon sword!
 
Take me out back and paint me in pollen, we are goin' to the Underworld."

I laughed in spite of the cranky demon in front of me.
 
"What are you talking about, spaz?"

"It's common lore.
 
Everyone who's anyone knows it.
 
That sword is yours, baby."
 
He finally stopped dancing.
 
"Just call it to you.
 
Call it."
 

"What?"

Spike leaned in to whisper in my ear.
 
"What's he saying?"

I held up a finger to ask for a minute, while I sussed out the details from my roommate.
 
"Tell me how, Tim."

"I don't know.
 
Do I look like the owner of a demon sword?
 
No, I don't.
 
I'm smarter than that.
 
No one who wants to live to tell about it tangles with a demon."

I rolled my eyes.
 
"Great.
 
Now
you tell me."

"Just picture the sword in your mind and call it to you.
 
I think that's how it works," he said.
 
"But maybe, you know, picture it outside the door or something so we don't suffer any stab wounds."

"Are you saying I'd imagine it stuck into one of my friends?"

"Hey, what do I know?
 
You have wacky dreams, okay?
 
You bring in Leck for crud's sake, I mean, come on.
 
Who does that on purpose?"

"You're right.
 
Good call."

"I got your six, Jayne.
 
It's a big six, but I got it."

I tuned out the rest of his discussion about my big butt and focused on picturing the sword that I'd gotten an uncomfortably close look at just the other day, sticking out of my chest.
 
It had a burnished gold or bronze handle with a couple of curled ends on it to keep the user's hand from sliding up to the blade.
 
There were some jewels in a ring near the part that had rested near my skin - purple and red, black and silver.
 
I smiled in memory, realizing they reminded me of the scales of the dragons trapped in Ben's tapestry.

A loud clanging sound rang out in the hallway.
 
I opened my eyes in time to see Spike rushing to the door and opening it up.

The chain holding Moriah clanked as she rushed to follow him out, and then her roar of displeasure at being denied her goal filled my ears, making me squeeze my eyes shut.
 
No way did I want to see that dripping, bubbling maw ever again.
 
It was bad enough it was going to live on forever in my nightmares.

Spike peeked out and then looked back inside.
 
"Check it out, Jayne.
 
I think your weapon has arrived, special delivery."

I walked over cautiously and looked out under the arm he lifted for me.
 
Sure enough ... the sword I'd pictured, the one that had pinned me to the earth, was lying on the floor outside the room, the jewels winking in the bit of light that spilled out of the prison chamber.

Spike opened the door farther for me, and I stepped out, bending over to grab it by its handle.
 
It was surprisingly light, encased in a sheath with a belt and straps attached to it.

"Put it on," he whispered.

"Fuck no," I said, looking at him like he was nuts.
 
"You put it on."
 
I thrust it towards him.

"Beeeettterrr nooooot," sang Tim.

Spike took it from me and unbuckled the belt portion.

"Tim says you better not," I said, watching in sick fascination as he prepared to put it on.

"Why?" Spike asked, looking at both of us as he held the belt just behind his waist.

"Why, Tim?" I asked.

"How am I supposed to know?
 
I'm just a simple pixie," he said, giggling and then farting once.

"His fart-o-meter is at stress level seven.
 
I wouldn't do it if I were you," I warned.

"Hey!
 
What have I told you about discussing my handicap?!" yelled Tim.

Spike hesitated only a moment before pulling the belt to his waist and buckling it up.
 
He stood straighter when he was done and looked at me, a grin on his face.
 
"How's it look?"

I nodded.
 
"Pretty cool, actually."
 
I smiled at how cute he was, standing there with his hair sticking out all over and now a sword at his side.