Satan's Stone (5 page)

Finally, he turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, he stopped and turned back to me and said, “He won’t touch you. If you go after him, I’ll know. And I’ll be there.”
 
Collin reached for the door and left without another word.

CHAPTER TEN

I wanted to kill Lorren. My body was strung as tight as it could go. My voice came out in rapid squeaks as I yelled at no one and punched the metal support beam in the center of the warehouse. Apryl should have been back already, but she wasn’t. My hand balled into a fist and I crushed it again. The sting of cold metal meeting warm flesh abated my anger. As I crashed my hand into it again, I felt the jolt of the impact travel up my arm and into my shoulder. Shaking out my fist, I turned back to the door.

Apryl was standing there, though I didn’t see her enter. She wore a wool dress with a pair of black boots that came up to her thighs. Dark hair fell down her back in a shiny sheet. Was Kreturus controlling her? There was no way to know. An eyebrow arched as Apryl walked toward me, throwing down a brown paper bag onto the floor. It tilted sideways and the contents spilled onto the floor. Apryl ignored the bag and continued to walk toward me with a strange expression on her face.

When she was a couple of steps away, I turned sharply. “What?” I growled.

Apryl stopped and shook her head. “Look at your hands. They’re covered in blood. And that one looks broken.” I gazed at my fists. My hands were still balled tightly, and she was right. They were bright red and slick. Streamers of blood wrapped around my wrists and dripped onto the floor. My left hand had a bone poking through the skin. I opened my hands, flexing the muscles. Apryl sighed and walked back toward the bag and grabbed a bottle of water. She twisted the cap off and turned back to me. As she walked, she scolded, “You can’t beat the shit out of poles.
If Kreturus showed up now…
”

My hands bunched back into fists as I growled, “If he showed up now, I’d kill him.” The anger wasn’t spent. I could still feel it in muscles, burning with a bright ferocity that was difficult to suppress.

Apryl paused for a moment and then stepped toward me. She gestured for me to extend my hands and poured the water over them. The blood turned pink and spilled to the pavement in a splatter, and splashed onto my bare feet. She turned away and grabbed paper towels and tossed them to me. “
Here.
Clean up. I got you some shoes too.” She tossed them at me. It was a pair of black Chucks. I nodded thanks, cleaned up and slid the shoes onto my cold feet. “It’s not anger,
ya
know.”

Her words made my head jerk up as I tied the second shoe. “Then what is it?”

She walked over to where I sat. The wet, bloodstained cement was in front of us. She pushed the brown paper bag toward me. It scraped across the pavement making a noise that made my skin crawl. I peered inside. There were snacks and a tray of Chinese food. The tray had condensation sticking to the lid. It was still hot. I picked it up and ate as she spoke.

“Thought you’d be hungry.
Didn’t know what you’d want, so there’s a bunch of stuff in there.” I nodded thanks, and she continued. “Anger is something that you can control. But that burning intensity that feels like anger, it’s really something else. Only the strong have it, and even very few of them get it. I thought it had to do with age, or the demon that made you. You know, the older the Valefar, the purer the content of demon blood. That in turn would make a stronger Valefar… but with you,” she arched her eyebrow, “I’m not so sure.”

I shoved a piece of broccoli in my mouth. “If it’s not anger, what is it? You still didn’t tell me.”

She hesitated. “I didn’t tell you, because it may not be the same for you. If you really are a half-breed,” I looked up at her
unamused
, and she smiled sheepishly, “or whatever you want to call it—then it might affect you differently. Anger is an emotion—it’s a reaction to a stimulus that upset you. Anger is a defense mechanism, and helps your body prepare to fight. Well, demon blood works in a similar way. It’s called
Akayleah
. It’s like anger in that it manifests in response to a stimulus, but it’s unlike anger in that you cannot control it.”

Her words strung questions together in my head. I put down the tray of food and grabbed a can of Coke. As I pressed the metal tab the can hissed opened. “But everyone is telling me that I can control it. They also thought it was anger.” I shook my head. “This doesn’t make sense, Apryl.”

Her eyebrows shot up as her shoulders shot back. Her jaw hung open for a spilt second before she spoke. Her voice was defensive. “I’m not lying to you. Why would I? You’re the only person who can free me from this shitty life.” Apryl’s spine resumed its former slump as she leaned forward and stabbed a piece of broccoli. “I don’t know who you’re talking to, or why they didn’t know. It’s not like
its
common knowledge. This isn’t basic Valefar stuff.
It’s
stuff I learned from being at the Pool of Lost Souls. Every demon has blood. Its power is from age and acquisition.” She laughed
, ”
Acquisition, that’s the nice way of saying they viciously took the power from someone else, and then, that person died horrifically as a result.

“Anyway, the power makes the demon. The demon made the Valefar with their blood. You should know that part.” When she looked at me I nodded. Some of it was new, but I knew most of it. “
Akayleah
is
a demon
ability. It’s kind of like an emotion, but it’s not. Something has to cause it to occur, and when it does—then there’s no stopping it. Imagine being so angry that you go into an insane rage. Imagine it contorts your mind, your body, and every bit of your appearance. That’s what
Akayleah
is. It’s when your blood overtakes your mind, and you have the compulsion to act without thought.
The more powerful the demon, the more severe the
Akayleah
.”

My jaw dropped open while she was speaking. My wrists went limp, dropping the piece of food that was skewered on my fork. The piece of chicken slid onto the floor, and I didn’t move. It felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. I stared unblinking for a moment, utterly shocked.

“Why didn’t they know?” I asked. “How is that possible? The angels think they know everything about the demons. They made it sound like the war was all but won—until I came along. But that can’t be. Not if stuff like this is possible, and they didn’t even know about it.” I paused, thinking of the ramifications for me, “
Akayleah
destroys the demon’s mind?
Their body?
Everything?”
I asked, horrified.

She nodded, “From what I understand, it does. But Ivy, I barely know about this and I shouldn’t. I’m
a nobody
. I don’t have enough demon power to effonate, never mind have issues with
Akayleah
… but, maybe you do.” I pressed my hands to my face, and rubbed hard, pushing my hair back. Apryl watched me. “Once
Akayleah
starts, you can’t stop it.”

Looking at the floor, I pressed my eyes together. “It’s already started.” My voice was flat and listless. “It started in a battle last year. My anger got away from me. I felt insane. I killed so many Valefar and I felt absolutely nothing. Their deaths didn’t plague me later. Their cries of agony didn’t haunt me in any way.” Taking a deep breath, I sighed and looked at my sister—my Valefar sister who I would have killed with the rest, without a second glance, if she stood in front of me that night. “Why don’t the angels know about
Akayleah
?”

“The demons hide it,” she said. “They hide it like it’s their most precious treasure.” My face contorted with disgust. Apryl leaned forward, “Think about it, Ivy. The Angel Demon wars have gone on for eons, but the demons have a weapon that can only make them stronger and more powerful. And since it’s so rare, they think it’s a treasure. Each demon’s highest hope is that his blood will be powerful enough to evoke a ruthless
Akayleah
when the time comes. Your creator must have been very powerful. Either that or the demon blood did something weird to the angel blood when you were changed.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. Somehow the angels hadn’t heard of any of this. It was like hiding a weapon the size of a football field under a tablecloth. Demons had this ability and the angels knew nothing about it. And worst of all, I had this ability as well. Turning to Apryl I asked, “How do I keep from awaking it?”

She looked at me and shrugged. “I don’t know. It sounds like you already have. Maybe your angel blood is holding it in check. Maybe it isn’t, but either way caving in and allowing your emotions to dictate your actions is stupid. You’re allowing something else, something strong, to overtake you.
Allowing anything to do that to you can force your
Akayleah
into action.”
She paused, her eyes raking over my hair, my face, and my forearms that were healed and seamless once again. “If you’re already having issues with your
Akayleah
, why isn’t it apparent? I should be able to see something, and not just when it’s invoked. It should have left a scar.” Her eyes narrowed a bit as they slid over my face and arms again. “The scars are revered in the Underworld. They would protect you from other demons, lesser demons—but you have none.” She locked my gaze.
Her green eyes suspicious.
“Why?”

Glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, I leaned back on my hands. My injuries had healed although my skin where the bone poked through would remain pink for several hours. Swallowing, I wondered what I should say. My gut clenched tightly when I thought of telling her about Lorren, so I said, “I healed it. I didn’t know what it was, so I scraped it off. Scales appeared on my face and shoulders. I cut them off, and regular skin replaced them when I healed.” I laughed nervously, as if I were laughing at myself. “I thought I was turning into a demon.”

“You were.” Apryl’s green eyes were completely serious. “And don’t remove them again. They could save you in the future.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sleep tugged at me, sucking me into the black abyss again. It felt more like a vision than a dream, and maybe it was. I was getting
so
confused as to what was sleep and what wasn’t. The darkness faded into a dull gray mist, and then I was standing alone staring at something. At first I thought it was a patch of darkness where the light refused to shine. There were places like that in Hell, places where the shadows seemed alive and malicious. The patch of darkness shifted and swirled like bubbles on top of boiling water.

When they cleared I was standing before a mirror made of black glass. It was more substantial than the last time I saw it. Collin’s words echoed somewhere in the back of my mind. His voice whispered a warning that I couldn’t hear. Stepping towards it, I felt curiosity ignite inside of me. It was so strange. The mirror shone like glass, but instead of showing a reflection, there was nothing. It made no sense. I slid my foot towards it, closer, closer, closer until I was nearly touching the glass. The frigid mirror showed no reflection still, but as I gazed into its depths, I thought I could see something. It was small and silvery. Maybe it was a candlestick? Or something similar, but it looked so distant that I couldn’t be certain.

I pressed my hand to the mirror expecting to be met with chilled glass, but my hand slipped through the plane. It was no thicker than a layer of skin, and my hand sunk straight through into its warm depths. Panic raced through me. Startled, I pulled my hand back. It came free from the mirror. I bent the fingers, counting them, examining that they were intact and unchanged. Each slender finger bent and the skin was still pale and smooth. I examined the back of my hand and then flipped it over and looked at my palm. Nothing had changed. The black glass seemed to have no effect.

Eyes wide, I looked up at the glass and saw someone standing on the other side. A shriek ripped from my lips as I stumbled backwards. There was a woman in the glass! She was clad in a black gown that covered her from neck to toe. A black cloak hung around her shoulders with the hood pulled up, obscuring her face.

I snapped my mouth shut, and swallowed hard, examining the woman in the glass.
A memory.
A thought swirled at the back of my mind, whispering,
Danger.
Destruction.
Death.
My palms were covered in cold sweat. My foot slid away from the dark mirror.

The movement seemed to startle her, because her head tilted up and she saw me. Her mouth first formed a small O, and then melted into a smile that tugged the corners of her mouth. Her lips parted as if she were going to speak. She took a step toward me. I could see nothing but eyes the color of amethyst with large pupils black as night.

“How utterly delightful.”
Her voice was deep, and dripping with scorn. I wanted to turn and walk away, but power flowed from the glass. I could feel it reaching out and snaking into the place I stood, holding me still. I stood motionless as her ruthless eyes washed over me. “This is the one to defeat Kreturus?” She chortled one short burst of laughter. “You are no more than a child.
And a child that doesn’t know who she is, at that.
Come
closer girl.” Without meaning to, my foot slid up to the edge of the black glass. “Are you the one who awakened me? Are you the one who shoved a girl through the glass? And are you the one who just slid an arm through into my home?” I nodded, too stunned to reply. The hooded figure stood silently watching me for a moment. Her head tilted as her arms folded and a gloved hand extended a single finger to touch the side of her shadowed face.
“
Mmmm
.
Then, it is time.” Her voice contained power. “Come.”

The word rang like crystal. My ears resonated with her voice. Before I realized what was happening, my foot glided forward through the glass like something was pulling on it. My right arm reached out slowly as I fought for control of my body. The woman in the hood laughed as I battled with myself to defy her command and remain on this side of the mirror. However, my other foot began to slide forward. It was like pushing two drops of water together. At some point they are drawn to one another and cannot pull back. I was one drop. The woman in the black hood was the other. The whispers in my mind wouldn’t be silenced. It was Collin’s warning that rang the loudest, warning me, trying to save me.
Stay on this side of the mirror
. Once I passed through, I would never be the same.
 

But it was too late. Both feet were sucked into the black glass, followed by the rest of me. As I passed through the mirror, it clung to me like tape. Every part of my body was sticking and sliding at the same time. The mirror was nothing as it seemed the last time I saw it. Last time it was an inanimate object, just sitting there. It showed things like a mirror should. There was power inside the glass. And there was a simple reason why the glass contained power. When I emerged on the other side, the hooded figure stood with her arms folded. She was tall and thin. The black cloak hid her slender figure. Her cowl obscured her face.

She watched me as I gazed across the room made of gray slate and granite. Every surface was smooth and cold, made of slick stone. Water poured down a wall in front of me over pieces of broken boulders. Where the water began, I didn’t know. It was too high up to see. It cascaded like a small waterfall behind a massive table with two chairs.
 
A large flame radiated heat and light from the center of the room. It clung high to the ceiling, suspended in air, and remained there without burning anything it touched. Polished granite was slick under my feet. A chaise made from stone was at the opposite end of the room. There was nothing soft in this space. There was no cloth, no linens, no drapes, no fabric save for what the woman wore on her back.

The hooded figure moved toward the stone table and sat, gesturing for me to follow. I sat opposite her. My jaw had locked and I could feel the muscles twitching. I tried to relax. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not with her.

My voice was certain as I spoke, “You’re the Demon Princess—the one who failed to kill Kreturus, and was banished to the black mirror and… destroyed.”

She responded by forming a smile with her thin red lips. “Yes, I am. And I survived. I did not fail, little one. I have bided my time, and my time has come.”