The Crossing (Immortals) (30 page)

She slugged him again.

They left swimwear and entered the dress department,
where a dead woman was pawing through a rack of slinky
dresses, ripping chiffon and silk from the hangers.

"All too big! Every single one! Arggghhhh!" Sobbing,
she staggered off toward sportswear.

The store was huge, and the scene replayed itself in
every department. From jeans to outerwear, painfully thin
women shopped frantically, unable to find anything that
fit. Sobs of misery filled the air.

"This is a punishment worthy of Hell's fourth level?"
Mac asked. "A bad shopping trip?"

"You wouldn't understand," Artemis said, glancing down
at her not-as-flat-as-it-used-to-be stomach, framed by her
not-as-slim-as-they-used-to-be hips. "You're a man. I'm
still carrying ten extra pounds from my pregnancy."

He sent her an odd look. "Was it so bad? Being pregnant?"

"No," she said. "It was nice, actually. Feeling the baby
move. Watching my stomach grow."

"Would you... ever want to do it again? Have another
child?"

She stopped in front of a plus-sized manikin. "I don't
know. I never thought about it. I suppose it would be nice,
if it wasn't an accident the second time around."

"But you were happy, anyway, when you found out,
right? Even though it was an accident?"

"Happy? Are you nuts? I was freaking furious."

Mac's cheeks flushed pink. "But after the baby was
born-you were happy then, right?"

Artemis gave a wistful smile. "I fell in love with Zander,
it's true. The moment I saw him open his eyes and look at
me. I don't regret having him. I just don't need any more
surprises in my life. If I ever get pregnant again, it's going to be because I want another child. Not because I wasn't
careful enough."

"Right," Mac murmured. For a moment, she thought
he was on the verge of saying more, but then he shook his
head slightly and looked around. "How about customer
service?" he suggested. "Seems a likely place for an exit."

He was talking about the exit to Level Five. Artemis
swallowed hard. Malachi would be waiting on Level Five.
And he would expect her to uphold her end of their contract. She followed Mac, her stomach churning. How could
she betray him again? He didn't deserve that. Maybe she
should risk telling him everything. Maybe they could take
Malachi together, by surprise.

"Don't count on it."

The words came on a whisper, faintly stirred with sulfur. Artemis stopped in her tracks and looked around.
Malachi smiled back at her as a wavy figure inside a fulllength mirror.

With a furtive glance at Mac's back, she walked toward it.
Malachi's distorted features leered from behind the glass.
"Breathe a word of our... agreement... to the Sidhe and
your son is dead. Bring Mac Lir to Level Five. But before
you get there, be sure the shielding you erected around
his soul is gone."

"Gone?" she whispered. "How am I supposed to do
that? He's a lot more knowledgeable about death magic
than he was. If I try anything, he's going to know."

Malachi's eyes blazed. "The `how' is not my problem.
Do as you're told, if you value your son's life."

And then he was gone.

Artemis closed her eyes, fighting a terror so sharp and
painful it had her doubling over. An instant later, she felt
Mac at her side, his presence comforting, his voice tinged
with worry.

"What is it, love? Are you all right?"

Tell him, a small voice in her head said. Tell him everything. He'll fight for you. But Artemis recognized the desperate
thought for what it was. Pure delusion. If she confided in
Mac, Zander would be dead in minutes.

She forced a wan smile. "It's nothing. I felt a little lightheaded, is all. I'm fine now."

"Not sure I believe that, but chin up, love. I've found
the next exit."

Oh gods. "Where?"

"There's an exit door behind the customer service desk.
Only problem is, there's a demon at the counter in the guise
of a young girl. Plenty of room to get past her, though.
Shouldn't be a problem."

It shouldn't have been, but it was. The demon, as it turned
out, wasn't a lesser entity. She wasn't an Old One, thank the
gods, but she was ancient enough to see right through Mac's
glamour.

She looked up from her magazine as they sidled past.
Her chewing gum snapped like a rifle shot. "Stop right
there. Did you two really imagine a paltry Level Two
glamour would be any use at all here on Level Four? Who
the hell are you any-" Her eyes widened. "Why, you're
the pair from the Tattler. The human and the Sidhe!"

Mac eyed her. "What if we are?"

Her ponytail bobbed. "I'll turn you in. I'll get the reward! Fifty years of life essence."

He snorted. "You really don't think the blighters at the
Tattler will give it to you, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"They want us for themselves. They'll never pay off a
Level Four demon like yourself."

"Mac," Artemis whispered. "What do you think you're
doing?"

The demon's jaw stopped working her gum. "You know
what? You're right. The bastards will probably screw me. I
should capture you myself."

"I wouldn't advise trying. My friend here is a talented death witch, and I'm a demigod. We'll put up a damned
inconvenient fight."

She regarded him new interest. "A demigod, you say? I
didn't read that in the Tattler."

"They didn't want the public to know, obviously. But
now that you do, I've got a proposition for you."

"A contract?" The demon propped her elbows on the
counter, her eyes all aglow. "I love contracts. What is it?"

Artemis stared at him. "Mac. I don't think-"

"Not a contract," Mac told the demon. "A simple swap.
See that door over there? Is there a stair behind it? Does it
lead to Level Five?"

"There is and it sure does."

"We want to go there. What do you say I give you fifty
years of life essence, and you let us pass?"

Artemis gasped. Only Mac's grip on her arm kept her
from protesting.

"Fifty years?" The demon chewed, her gum snapping.
She blew a pink bubble. It popped and she sucked it back
in. "Not nearly enough."

"Not enough? It's the same as the Tattler's reward."

"But that was before I knew you were a demigod." She
smiled. "A little more won't hurt you. Say, like a millennium
or so?"

Artemis did protest then. "No way, Mac! I'd rather
fight her."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," Mac said. He turned
back to the demon. "A century."

"Five hundred years."

"One-fifty."

"Three-fifty," the demon countered.

"Two-fifty"

"Three hundred."

"Done," Mac said.

"Mac, no," Artemis whispered. "It'll weaken you too
much."

He met her gaze steadily. "That's just it, Artemis. I don't
think that it will." He brushed a kiss by her ear. "My soul
is infinite. I can lose three hundred years, easily. It'll make
no difference. And I'll receive death magic in return."

"And your soul will become darker because of it. I don't
like it at all."

"It's our best option, love." He stepped toward the
counter. "Let's have it done, then," he told the demon.

She smiled, showing a wad of gum between her teeth.
She plucked it out and set it on the counter. "Pucker up."

Artemis's stomach turned. Still, she couldn't seem to
turn away as Mac leaned over the counter. The demon
met him halfway, her arms coming up to encircle his neck.
Their lips touched.

The kiss went on and on, until Artemis thought she
might very well throw up. Finally, Mac broke contact and
took a step back.

"That was wonderful." The demon smiled, a dreamy
look in her eyes.

Mac's eyes, by contrast, were colder than Artemis had
ever seen them. She could sense the darkening of his aura,
the spike in his death-magic powers. A shiver ran up her
spine. What was he becoming, because of her?

Without speaking, or touching her, he strode to the
stair. Artemis followed. Mac yanked the door open.

"Seems empty enough." His voice was flat and carried a
metallic ring.

Artemis stepped into the stairwell. The walls were bare
concrete, washed with faint illumination from an obscure
source. The air smelled of urine, but at least the floor was
dry and clear of debris. She peered over the metal railing.
She couldn't see the bottom.

Six steps down, a left turn, six more steps. Left again.
There were no doors.

Her boots thudded after Mac's. She was afraid to let
him get too far ahead. Would Malachi greet them at the bottom of the stair? What would the demon do when he
discovered Mac was more powerful, not less, than he'd
been before? But Mac's death-magic powers hadn't grown
so much that Mac would be able to defeat an Old One,
even with Artemis's help. She really had no choice. She
was going to have to uphold her contract with Malachi.

Quickly, before she had a chance to change her mind,
she cast her senses toward the death shield surrounding
Mac's soul. He could construct his own barrier now, she
was sure, but he hadn't thought to do it. The shield
Artemis had constructed in the elevator still protected his
soul. It was easy enough to slip inside.

Six steps down, a left turn, six more steps. Left again.
Still no door.

Subtly, she picked up a thread of the shielding spell.
Fear jittered her senses. Would Mac sense what she was
doing? Her stomach burned, and the taste of her betrayal
was bitter in her throat. At that moment, she loathed herself. But this was for Zander. For her son, she'd do anything.

"Ballocks," Mac muttered as they turned yet another
corner. "How bloody much farther does this stair go?"

Six steps down, a 'left turn, six more steps. Left again.
The temperature in the stairwell was rising.

Working subtly, Artemis drew the thread of the shielding spell taut. Mac didn't seem to notice, but she sensed
his anxiety rising. He took the next flight of stairs two at a
time.

She increased the tension on the psychic thread. One
whispered syllable, aimed just so, would snap it. The spell
would dissolve slowly after that. By the time Mac realized
what was happening, it would be too late.

Her lips parted; she sucked air into her lungs. She
steeled herself to utter the spell word, but before she
could speak it, something deep inside her-something
that felt like a foreign force-rebelled. Dizziness struck. Her toe caught on the edge of the step. She grabbed at the
railing and missed. She fell...

Mac spun about and caught her. "Artemis! You okay,
love?"

Hardly. Her head was still spinning. Her mind was fuzzy,
her tongue dry. The concrete walls around her swayed.
What the hell had just happened? "I... I'm not sure. Can I
sit down? Just for a minute?"

"Whatever you want."

She could hear the genuine concern in his tone. It
twisted a knife of guilt in her gut. She didn't deserve him.

He eased her into a sitting position on the bottom step.
She pressed her head to her knees. The position helped
the spinning walls slow. But the heat in the stairwell was all
but unbearable now. The stench had grown as well, riding
on crests of hot anger. Sweat trickled down the side of her
face, making her jaw itch.

There were new sounds, too. Muffled shouts, violent
thuds. The roar of a jeering crowd. Hatred-boiling waves
of it-scalded her mind.

Dread thudded with every heartbeat. "Do you feel
that... that rage?"

"I do. It's coming from the other side of that door."

She raised her head and saw they'd reached the bottom
of the stair. Directly in front of her stood a battered
metal door.

"We don't have to go through right away," Mac said.
"I'm worried about you, Artemis. You don't look quite
right. I felt you... fade a moment ago. Something to do
with your magic." His eyes narrowed. "Were you preparing a spell?"

Oh gods. She couldn't answer that. She grabbed the
railing and hauled herself to her feet. "It's not important.
I'm fine now."

She could tell he didn't believe her. "Let me flood you
with life essence. You look like you need it."

Make love, here? Amid all the rage seeping from under
the door? After what she'd just tried to do to him? "No.
You gave enough to that demon. I'm fine. Really."

"Artemis-"

"I am. There's no point in waiting. Open the door."

But instead of moving toward the door, he speared his
fingers into her hair and covered her mouth with a hard,
bruising kiss. "Damn it all, Artemis, why did I have to fall
in love with such a stubborn woman?"

She stared at him, stunned. "Fall in love? No. No, you
can't. It's not possible. You don't know-"

"I know plenty, Artemis. For once, just don't argue."

"But-"

He stepped away and put his shoulder to the door.
"Ready?"

Mutely, she nodded.

The hinges creaked. "Welcome to Level Five," a mechanical voice intoned.

Mac peered through. "Damn. And here I was, hoping
for ladies' lingerie."