“Then, there you have it. Stay away from him.” Maxon scans the walls, the floor, and the countertop… Anything but me. I know my brother enough to realize that there’s something he isn’t telling me here. That’s his guilty look.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“That’s not very convincing. There’s a lot of gray area when it comes to demons. Look at the Queen of Hell. Nefer is a good ruler.”
Maxon sighs. “Fine. I know the guy. The real Tempest. He is what his father made him, and that Furor was a freak named Chimera. You heard of him?”
“A little. Chimera didn’t rule for long and had a thing about cleansing the Furor so there are only pureblood dragons left. He killed a lot of Furorling.” A chill creeps over my skin. What must it have been like for Tempest to be raised by a guy like that?
“Well, Chimera was best buds with Armageddon, the old King of Hell. They even shared torture techniques.”
“Oh.” My heart sinks to my toes. A torture expert and he was Tempest’s father.
“It’s like this. When Armageddon abducted me, it fucked me up for decades, and the freak only had me less than seven days. Chimera tortured Tempest for years on end. T is a whole new level of screwed up. There’s only so far away from that he can go, you know what I mean?”
“All too well. I know what it’s like to have people judge you because of how you look or what they’ve heard about you.”
I need to make my own decisions about Tempest.
“Don’t get me wrong. T is charming, but the guy practically invented ‘hit it and quit it.’ He goes for women who know the score and want the best night of their lives. But that’s not you. You’re going to get attached to him and when he moves on, it’ll break your heart. I won’t see that happen to you.”
It was just a few days ago I curled up in a ball on the couch because the dry cleaner guy was scared of me. Imagine if I spent time with Tempest… Or we kissed. I’d be a basket case. I inhale a shaky breath. “I don’t want to see that, either.”
“You watch yourself, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good call.” Maxon brushes a kiss against my cheek and then mists away.
Once he’s gone, I decide to eat my weight in ice cream. Or at least as much as I can shovel in before the world falls apart.
Chapter Six
I’m halfway into my first pint when the floor of the Hearth starts shaking. Small figurines crash onto the floor. Bits of plaster cascade from the ceiling like snowflakes.
Walker hops to his feet. “It’s another sinkhole!”
“Get the equipment,” says Mom.
Walker closes his eyes and a black, door-sized hole opens up to his right. A ghoul portal. This is how ghouls transport themselves from one side of the after-realms to the other.
Walker steps into the portal, disappears, and returns just as quickly. “I found us a stable spot. We’ve got to get the gear out.”
“Good.” Dad starts unplugging equipment left and right. “Walker and I will link up. Portia, you hand the equipment through the portal. Myla, you grab it on the other side.”
Adrenaline pumps through my body at double speed. We can’t lose our connection to the after-realms. I also don’t want the Hearth to fall down a sinkhole, but we have bigger things to worry about right now.
We quickly create a daisy chain. Dad and Walker link elbows. Mom waits on the opposite side to act as catcher. I’m the pitcher in this scenario, so it’s my job to pass stuff to Mom through the portal.
I quickly unplug all the equipment and hoist the first box of tech. “Ready?” I ask.
“Pass it through,” says Dad.
I press the large box into the darkness. I feel the tug on the other side as Mom picks up the equipment. I let go and the box disappears.
“Did it work?” I ask.
“Yup,” says Dad. “Keep going.” His features strain with effort. Even with Walker’s help, keeping a ghoul portal open this long is a huge physical drain.
I glance at the dozen monitors, routers, servers, and boxes of wires that now lay on the floor. Another tremor convulses the room. I grab the next item in line—a monitor—and pass it through to Mom. A few data servers follow.
Nine more to go.
The Hearth lurches around us again. Beads of sweat drip down my father’s cheek. Hairline fractures appear in the wall. Panic charges me with energy. I focus on passing the routers and servers next; anything that transmits data. Mom grabs them from me in quick succession.
Only three boxes remain.
Another heave strikes the building. The floorboards snap beneath our feet. Dad loses his footing and grabs the edge of the ghoul portal. “Portia! Reach through. Grab your mother’s hand.”
Leaning forward, I grasp into the darkness. There’s no familiar tug on the other side. “I don’t feel Mom anymore. Are you still in contact with Walker?”
“He’s got my right hand.” Dad fixes me with a serious look. “I need you to listen to me carefully. Grab my wrist and hold on tight. I’ll pull us both through.”
An ear-splitting rumble sounds as the floor heaves once again. Chunks of ceiling plaster tumble in. A figure swoops in through the opened ceiling hole, its identity masked by dust and debris. My pulse skyrockets.
“I can’t reach Mom,” I say. “Let go, Dad. I’ll find another way out.”
Dad’s face strains red with effort. His fingertips turn white with the pressure of holding onto the edge of the ghoul portal. “Not good enough. Grab my wrist.”
The figure steps out of the debris. It’s Tempest. He’s in his human form, dressed in black. White light shimmers across his shoulders as his dragon wings appear behind his shoulders. They’re long, black, and reach almost to the ground. Tempest steps to my side.
“I’ve got her, Your Highness.”
Dad’s gaze locks with mine, his features wild with worry. “I want you with your family. Take my—” But Dad finally loses his grip on the portal. He disappears into the darkness. I gasp with shock. On reflex, I reach toward him. Tempest grabs my hands, pulling me backward.
“We’re getting you out of here.” He says. “Now.”
In one smooth motion, Tempest hoists me into his arms. His dragon wings rustle down his back before spreading wide, ready for flight. I ball my hand into his shirt and hold on tight.
The walls crumble. Huge chunks of plaster fall to the floor. Ceiling beams break free, tearing down a knot of wires. Sparks fly. The curtains burst into flame. I wince as a volley of hot sparks flies at my face.
Tempest’s wings beat in a speedy rhythm as we lift from the floor. We quickly rise through the new hole in the ceiling. Below me, the Hearth collapses in on itself. My limbs numb with shock. Every last bit of my childhood home—the floorboards and walls, the picture frames and teaspoons—tumbles into the ground. Glass crashes. Metal snaps. Furniture gets pulverized. Panic spikes through my nervous system. Suddenly, I can’t pull enough air into my lungs.
Tempest curls me more tightly against his chest. His firm arms encircle me, cocooning me in safety. His heartbeat keeps a steady rhythm against my cheek. My breathing slows. I even loosen my death grip on his shirt. Tempest’s voice sounds deep and gentle in my ear. “Are you all right, Portia?”
“I’m fine.” And strangely enough, that’s the truth. Something about Tempest feels as solid and familiar as my books.
We rise higher in the air. The cookie cutter suburban landscape stretches out in every direction. The knot of worry in my chest loosens. There are no more sinkholes other than my parent’s place.
“What do you want to do?” asks Tempest.
“Go to the Grove. Save the after-realms.” I add one last word, my voice tight with urgency. “Now.”
Chapter Seven
Tempest scoops me in his arms and we take off in a new direction. I don’t need to ask where we’re headed. The Gray Sea isn’t far from here, and that’s where Tempest said we’d find the entrance to the Grove.
I rest my head against his chest and catch my breath. “Thank you.”
“For what, luv?”
“Coming back for me.”
“Of course. Dragons have highly developed senses of smell and hearing. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard another sinkhole coming. I turned around the moment I knew. I’m only surprised…” He shakes his head.
“Only surprised about what?”
“I thought you’d want me to take you to your family. They have very strong ideas about how to solve things, and I know you’re all very close.”
“We are, but not when it comes to this. If we met up with them, I’d spend more time convincing them to listen to me than actually saving the after-realms.”
I hadn’t noticed that we’d crossed from the residential area to the Gray Sea. Now that Tempest’s started to descend, I can’t miss the huge swath of charcoal-colored sand beneath us. Tempest arches his wings and we spiral down onto the warm desert.
“We’re here,” says Tempest. He sets me on my feet and I immediately miss his touch. With another flash of light, the wings vanish from Tempest’s shoulders. I look away when he catches me staring.
“Thanks again,” I say quickly. “Now, if you’ll show me the door to the Grove, you can be on your way.”
Tempest’s features turn unreadable. “What?”
Every cell in my body wants me to beg him to help. I can’t ask that of the Emperor of the Furor, though. He has responsibilities other than my schemes to salvage the Firmament.
I grip my hands together anxiously at my waist. “You have your own realm to worry about, Tempest. Someone marked up my face. This must sound crazy, but I think I’m supposed to fix the Firmament.”
Tempest’s gaze softens. “That’s not crazy.”
I puff out a relieved breath. “Whatever it is, it’s my problem, not yours.” I take a pointed step away from him. “Take care of your people, Tempest. Open the door to the Grove and go. You’ve done enough.”
Tempest steps closer until our bodies are only inches apart. “First of all, I wouldn’t be much of a ruler if I didn’t have smart leaders on my team. And second, I am not leaving you, Portia.”
My mind blanks. This news is a shock to my system. “You’re not?”
Tempest cups my chin in his hand. “Never.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. I shiver. “Do we understand each other?”
I stare at him, at a total loss for words. He can’t mean never as in never, ever. This is just until the quest is over, right? And hey, we might not even live that long. Still, whatever he’s promising, I’ll take it. I need all the help I can get. Relief winds around me, secure as a blanket. “I understand, Tempest.”
“Good.” He looks into my eyes again, and that intense stare returns. “Ready to open the door to the Grove?”
“I’m ready.”
Tempest begins a low chant in dragon tongue, the sounds snarling and deep. One word repeats over and over with a gentle lilt.
Rhana
. His incantation rings through the air in odd ways. I don’t know all of what he says. I can translate enough to know that he’s getting ready to open a door of some kind. The atmosphere crackles with magic.
I tilt my head, surprised. I’d expected a lot of things on this crazy quest. Somehow the fact that Tempest would be a wizard was not one of them. At all. He finishes and bows his head.
“You know magic,” I say breathlessly.
Tempest shrugs. “When you become a greater demon, you gain all sorts of interesting skills. For me, magic was one such surprise.” He inhales deeply. “Your Furor blood responds to it, you know.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes grow big with surprise. “I smell?”
Tempest offers me his crooked smile, the one that warms me to my toes. “Nothing unpleasant, luv. Your magic reaches out to mine.”
I shake my head. “Your dragon feelers are off on that one. When I cast, I use words. There is some kind of magic in me, but it doesn’t reach out to anyone. It just locks up my words.” I wince. “I realize that may sound crazy.”
“No, not at all.” He looks at me like I just solved the secrets of the universe. “Quite insightful, I’d say.”
His words warm my soul. Here I am, a woman starved for attention and he’s handing me a five-course meal of praise. This can’t be real. I gesture awkwardly at the desert, anxious to change the subject. “We should get to the Grove.”
“As you command.” When he speaks again, Tempest’s voice booms across the empty desert. “I stand here today, the dragon Tau Epsilon Omicron Theta, Supreme Chieftain of the Firelord tribe, Emperor of the Furor, and Gatherer of the Marked. I demand the Grove open for me.”
A small pit appears in the desert floor. A flight of steps leads down into the darkness.
“Safer if we walk side by side,” says Tempest. “That okay, luv?”
“That’s fine.”
Together, we head down into the mysterious Grove. With every step, I feel the weight of the after-realms fall more squarely on my shoulders. So many people are counting on me now.
Please, let me have the strength to help them.
Chapter Eight
Tempest and I follow a winding passageway that’s made from rough-hewn earth. Bits of root and rock jut out from the walls. The scent of fresh soil hangs in the air.
After a few turns, the tunnel opens onto a large underground chamber. The place looks totally deserted. More fresh earth lines the floor and ceiling. A forest of dead trees stretches off into the shadows.
I wince. The smell of decay lingers here. A shiver of unease runs down my spine. That stench is a sure sign of the Void. Could the Scintillion be here, too? I rub my neck, remembering the monster’s chokehold. “Do you think the Void are waiting for us?”
“It’s likely. Stay close.”
Beneath our feet, the root ends slither around like snakes. Within seconds, they realign into a glowing pathway. I inhale a shocked breath. Talk about rolling out the red carpet. “Guess someone knows we’re here.”
“Rather dodgy.” Tempest scans the shadows, his full mouth tightening into a frown. “I don’t like it. Stay close, luv.”
Tempest and I follow the bright trail through the dead forest. It ends in a round clearing that holds four massive trees. A golden glow dances in their bark. Huge roots bore into the soil; hefty branches poke into the earthen ceiling.
Magic pools around and inside everything. The force is liquid, powerful, and turns my skin into gooseflesh. Tempest and I step closer to the four great trees. Each one is as wide around as I am tall.