The Crossing (Immortals) (28 page)

"You do," she purred. "You're a male, after all."

"A male who isn't interested."

She smirked at the hard-on that had returned to his
jeans. "Oh yes, I see how `disinterested' you are. So, tell
me, Mac. How's your father? Your mother? Your dimwitted cousins? It's been so long since I've seen them."

"Doing all the better for their lack of interaction with
you, I'm sure."

"And your sister? She's not so well, is she? Turned demonwhore, I heard. Well, every family has its skeletons, I
suppose." Hecate studied him. "Leanna resembles you
quite closely, I see. Though lately she's been looking
more... tired."

Mac tensed. "What do you know of Leanna? Do you
know where she is?"

Hecate's elegant hands fluttered. "I may."

"You nay?" He infused his words with contempt.
"What kind of answer is that?" He sat up abruptly, snapping his fingers. "Ah, I've got it. It's the answer of someone who doesn't know."

Angry red dots appeared in the center of Hecate's
pupils. "I am well aware of every hour of your sister's torment, Mac Lit. Do not think otherwise."

"I doubt it. You exaggerate your power." He stood and
gave her his back. Strolling toward the concessions
counter, he idly examined a candy display.

Hecate's taunting voice pursued him. "Another demon
claimed Leanna as whore after her first master's demise.
His name is Malachi."

Mac pivoted slowly, fighting to keep his expression neutral. "Did he? How nice for him."

"You are not so disinterested as you imply."

"I don't know why you would imagine that I care.
Leanna caused me nothing but trouble when she lived in
the human world."

"Malachi enjoys your sister very much. He uses her
body, and feasts on her soul."

Mac clung to his temper. "Is there a point to this conversation? If so, get to it."

"So demanding!" Hecate chided. "I'm only telling you
all this because you might be interested to know that
Malachi is here in Hell. And since he never travels without a whore or two in tow, you might be interested to know
that he's brought your sister with him."

Mac eyed the demon, trying to figure out her game.
"Even if that is true, why tell me?"

"Because Malachi is my enemy. He slaughtered my clan,
destroyed my upper realm. I've sworn to take vengeance. A
vengeance that you will help me achieve."

"Don't be so sure of that. It's you I'm after, not Malachi.
You stole a living soul from a human child. A witch's son. I
want it back."

Hecate laughed. "And perhaps I will give it to you. Your
lover's brat is only one innocent soul in my vast collection.
I gather them, you see. The souls of children. They are so
much sweeter than the souls of older, jaded humans."

"You're disgusting."

Hecate's hand fluttered to her throat. "Why, thank you,
Mac Lit. The compliment means so much, coming from
you." She slid her palms down her torso, lifting her breasts
in offering. "Perhaps you would like to taste my glory?"

Despite his revulsion, Mac felt a surge of desire. He
swallowed, hard. "I think not."

"Faithful to your little witch, are you? How touching."

"You tricked Artemis."

"Tricked Lieutenant Black? Never. She sought me out,
requesting service. Protection for paltry humans mired in
death magic. If she didn't anticipate the worst outcome of
her association with me, it's no fault of mine." She shook
her head, the long fall of her hair shimmering like a red
satin curtain.

"She left the military and forgot I knew her magic. She
became complacent, you see, after the balance of magic
shifted toward life. Her protections on her son grew lax. It
was so easy to snatch him. But what I don't understand is
your involvement in the witch's affairs. Why would an immortal demigod trouble himself with a mongrel human
death witch of highly questionable ancestry?"

"I have my reasons."

"All of which have to do with your cock, I'm sure. Darkness has gained a foothold in your soul, Mac Lit. It will
never let go. Tell me... don't you find that death magic
makes sex so much more... interesting, shall we say?"

"No."

Hecate threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, do not
lie to me! It's far too amusing. Death always defeats life.
Always. But the surrender can be so sweet. As you've begun to realize. You, a creature of life, have been dabbling
with death. With death magic. Has it been... good for
you? Exhilarating? Do you want more?" She glided forward, and suddenly he found her in his lap. Her lush bottom ground against his erection.

"I can show you so much."

With one fluid motion he stood and broke contact.
"No, thank you. Demon sex isn't my thing."

Her eyes dropping to the blatant bulge in his jeans.

"No?" she taunted. "Ali well, pleasant as it would befor both of us-sex is not what I require from you. I have
a more difficult task in mind. I want you to destroy
Malachi."

"The old wanker's too much for you, eh? Can't beat him
on your own?"

Hecate bristled. "Malachi," she hissed, "is nothing. I could
crush him under my bare heel. If he had the courage to face
me, which he does not. The bastard has eluded me for centuries. He's afraid to fight me. But a battle with you? Here
in Hell? That he will not fear."

"No doubt. Not sure if you've noticed, but my deathmagic skills leave something to be desired."

She made a dismissive gesture. "That can be remedied."

He eyed her. "What do you mean?"

"Power is power, as you have begun to realize. Life
magic, death magic-like all opposites, the two forces are more similar than they are different. Your life-magic talents may seem useless here in Hell, but they are not. They
can be transformed."

"At what price?"

"You are wise. There is always a price. A piece of your
soul, of course. But what does that matter? You are immortal. Your soul is endless."

When he made no immediate reply, Hecate stepped
closer. "Here. I will show you."

She lifted a hand. A high-pitched whine vibrated Mac's
eardrums. Sulfurous fog escaped from the cracks in the
tiled floor. The yellow mist rose quickly, blotting out the
concessions counter, the cafe tables, the posters.

The fog enveloped him. Death magic rode on the mist.
He felt it probe for flaws in the death-magic shield Artemis
had erected around his soul. In less time than it took for
Mac to realize what was happening, Hecate's noxious vapor
had homed in on the weakest part of his protections. A tiny
crack gave way.

Death magic seeped inside, flooding Mac's consciousness. His stomach lurched; his head exploded with pain.
Instinctively, he countered with the most powerful lifemagic defense he knew-if he'd been facing Hecate in the
human world, the demon bitch wouldn't have known what
hit her. Here in Hell, however, the assault only caused
Hecate to laugh.

Greedily, she lapped up his power. Her vitality shone.
"Life is useless in Hell, Mac Lit. You must fight me with
death. The death that is in your soul."

Hellfire rolled off her fingers. It struck Mac in the
stomach, dropping him to his knees. Scorching heat ran
up his esophagus. Choking, he was stunned to see flames
shoot from between his parted lips.

His shirt caught fire. He rolled, smothering the flames,
his anger blazing hotter than Hecate's attack. Without thought, without plan, he leaped to his feet and whirled to
face the demon. A truly noxious word-one he'd heard
Artemis utter-erupted from his lips.

Two balls of hellfire, hotter and denser than anything
he'd yet conjured, burst from his palms. He flung both at
Hecate. The demon batted the attack away.

Mac took a defensive posture, his chest heaving, his
mind reeling with the horror of the spell he'd just cast.
He'd paid for it with a portion of his life essence. The
dark wound in his soul widened. Sickened, he readied
himself to call the spell a second time. But to his surprise,
Hecate didn't attack again.

Instead, she applauded, her palms connecting in a loud
staccato. "Well done, Mac Lit. You've learned even more
quickly than I hoped. Your death power will only grow, as
you give up more and more of your soul to Hell. By the
time you find Malachi, your power may even be equal to
the task I've set for you."

Mac crossed his arms. "And when my death magic exceeds yours? What will you do then?"

Hecate waved a hand. "Absurd. That will never happen.
My power is inviolate. I am the consort of the Lord of Hell."

Mac started. "Of Lucifer, you mean?"

"Lucifer, Old Nick, Beelzebub, Satan... my mate has
many names. He created Hell and is its supreme ruler. In
the end, when death wins the final battle with life, he will
rule the upper worlds as well."

"Sounds like a nice guy. Why don't you ask him to take
care of your little problem with Malachi?"

Hecate's red lips twisted. "The Lord of Darkness no
longer ascends to Hell's upper levels. He prefers to remain
in his sanctuary, while his thralls carry on his work above.
In the upper reaches of Hell and in the demon realms-it
is left to the Old Ones to battle for supremacy."

She snapped her fingers. A long scroll, covered with spidery script, appeared in her hand. "No more questions. It is time to conclude our business. Your contract, Mac Lir. You
will sign in blood. I make you a generous offer. Destroy
Malachi for me, and you may take one living soul back to
the human world. Your sister, your lover, or her child. It
makes no difference to me which you chose."

Mac took the scroll. Holding Hecate's gaze, he ripped
the parchment in two. The halves fluttered to the floor. "I
think not."

Hecate snarled. "You are arrogant, Mac Lir."

"Gods do tend to be."

"This game you play is foolish."

"Call me a fool, then. Gods don't make deals with
demons."

"You are only half a god, and far from your base of
power. I could destroy you now, easily. But I think I will
not. This game will be much more interesting with you
and your newfound darkness in it."

She spread her arms. Fire broke out along her bare skin.
"Be gone, Mac Lit. You may have refused to sign, but our
contract stands. Destroy Malachi, and I will reward you.
Fail me, and you will regret it."

She flung her head back, and the long fall of her hair
erupted in flames. Fire and sulfur rose; a clap of thunder
resounded. Dark light flashed, and when the smoke cleared,
Hecate was gone.

Mac dragged a hand down his face. "Bloody drama
queen."

A crack appeared on the tile Hecate had just vacated. Mac
watched as the fissure widened and split, spreading outward
in all directions. He jumped backward as the floor crumbled, chunks of terra-cotta and concrete disappearing into a
black void. As the crashing abated, a mechanical whir took
its place.

Cautiously, Mac advanced to the edge of the hole. A
moving stair, such as one might find in a department store,
rose to greet him. Mac glanced around the lobby. No doors had appeared. It looked like this was his path to
Hell's next level down.

He thought of Artemis, trapped behind the door on the
other side of the theater. Had she found a way out? There
seemed to be no other option but to step on the stair and
hope that she had. He gripped the rubber railing. It carried him swiftly downward.

The ride was steep, but not terribly long. The escalator
ended in a sort of vestibule, before a set of automatic sliding doors. Mac made out a light on the other side of the
glass, but not much else. The surface was fogged.

He stepped up to the doors. They swished open. He
walked through. A blast of arctic air slapped him in the
face; he blinked against a sudden fluorescent glare. When
his new surroundings finally swam into focus, he stared at
it, bemused.

If Lucifer had created this place, Mac'd say one thing
for the old wanker.

He had a hell of a sense of humor.

Artemis was shivering in front of a display of breakfast cereals when Mac suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle,
right next to the sliced bread and English muffins.

His jeans were torn, his shirt singed, and his face was
smudged with soot. But he was there, in front of her. Relief
pounded through her veins so fiercely that for several long
moments she couldn't move. Then he caught sight of her
and waved. She raced down the aisle and threw herself into
his arms before she remembered she'd just signed a contract
to betray him.

She ripped her lips from his kiss.

A frown wrinkled his forehead. "What is it, love? Are
you hurt?"

"No." Her gaze fell on his shoulder, where a patch of
blistered skin showed through a singed hole. "But you are!
What happened?"

Anger flashed in his green eyes. "Had a little run-in
with a demon. Don't worry-no permanent damage.
See?" He rolled his injured arm, his gaze taking in the
stocked shelves on either side of the aisle. "So. Hell's third
level is... an American supermarket?"