The Labyrinth of the Dead (12 page)

"Kanika!" Portia sputtered, but the
girl did not so much as acknowledge her. She strolled down the steps haughtily,
her curls bouncing.

Kanika faced
Belial, her shoulders squared and her jaw set. She looked imposing, even though
there was a distinct height difference between them. Belial looked down upon the
girl and roared with laughter.

"And what have you been about, my
little pet? Playing with my things again, I see. Give me the key."

Kanika smiled and tossed the axe to Portia.
"No. I think I’ll decide what happens next. I’ve grown tired of your tutelage."

Portia caught the axe awkwardly and
there was a long moment of silence as the three of them stood staring at one
another. Somewhere else in the palace, a quiet, mechanical hum began to
resonate through the stone floor.

Belial glanced between the two of them
as if weighing her options, then turned toward Portia. "I do not want to harm
you, Portia." Her voice was as smooth as butter, but she advanced with malice
in her eyes.

Portia brought the axe up into a
defensive position, hands loose on the handle and wings arched back for
balance. "Good. I don’t fancy being harmed."

So, it comes to this at last
, Portia thought ruefully.
And Imogen nowhere in
sight to see how long I staved off this fight.
She readjusted her grip on
the axe handle, marveling at how natural it felt in her hands as the coin
tugged and twisted.

"You have wasted your life in Penemue.
A Gyony, of all the idiotic things." Belial shook her head in disbelief. "It is
your destiny to be great, can you not feel that? Feel the weight of power on
your soul? And what do you do with that? Protect little mortals who are likely
to die anyway. Why bother saving a creature with so little to live for?
Besides, you have a difficult time enough keeping your own kind in the living
world."

Portia bristled. "It was my choice to
serve. I took an oath and I would not break it. Not for you; not for anyone."
Not even Imogen, she realized, but she could not bring herself to imagine truly
testing that resolve.

The demon queen laughed, throwing her
head back and showing those ivory teeth so hooked and sharp. "Choice? Oh, no.
No, no, no. So charming that you think you had any choice at all. You were
bred, you were taken, and you were kept, my dear, just like all the others.
Your will meant nothing to the Grigori, and still
means nothing. You had something that they wanted and they took you as easily
as plucking an apple from a tree."

"Pluck this!" Portia swung the axe. The
hammer side struck a hard blow across Belial’s throat and the underside of her
jaw. She fell backward, landing sprawled on the floor. She brought the blade
side hard into the queen’s torso, landing blow after blow, cleaving the bare
porcelain flesh. Belial writhed and screamed. Clawed fingers slashed at
Portia’s arms, drawing rivulets of blood. She arched her back and let out a
bellow that knocked Portia back.

Belial dragged herself to her knees,
one hand clutched over her belly, barely keeping its contents contained while purple-brown
blood pooled beneath her. "That was a poor decision," she rasped.

"It was the only one left to me. I
don’t intend to die here. And I will kill if you stand in my way. In fact,
we’re all really better off if I kill you, regardless."

"You think in absolutes, damn your
Gyony training. Nothing fits so easily into categories of black or white, good
or evil. Portia, you are not
good
. You are born of deception and cunning
and blood, yet you cast yourself in the mold of hero, of savior, of saint. You
and I are the same, Portia: ambitious, powerful, steadfast."

"That may be true. In fact, I rather
think it is. But you change sides too quickly for my pleasure. Fawning over me
until Kanika came upon us, and now you cast your lot with me again because she
defies you? Make up your mind, madame."

The air around them growled with
Belial’s temper, and as the sound reverberated through the walls, something
deep in the recesses of the building rumbled as if in reply. Belial rose to her
feet and the air shimmered with rage around her.

"How dare you," she snapped, her eyes
red as the rising harvest moon. "I offer the world to you—not only this one,
but all of them!"

"What did you offer Nigel? Or Kanika?
Or Imogen?" Portia gripped the axe handle in her hands and felt a tremor deep
in the wood. "You are a deceiver through and through, spouting whatever lies
suit you best. I have had enough! You are keeping me from the one thing I came
here to do."

"You will not take her."

"Try and stop me."

With her wings spread taut, the demoness let loose a scream that brought down tiles from
the ceiling. Portia flinched at the sound and folded her wings around her,
forming a barrier that glowed blue-gold with her might.

Belial’s eyes were squeezed shut and
her jaw unhinged to let out the enormous cry. The gashes to her torso were now
nothing more than lumpy scars that still writhed as they healed.

"I will not die
here," Portia murmured, as if to remind herself. The warm light kindled quickly
in her breast, the power coming faster and easier than it ever had before. It
felt as if Fereshte sought to remind her as well. She
felt the glow suffuse her as she lowered her wings and stood amid the tumult of
noise without hearing any of it.

She swung the axe again, flaring out
her wings as a counterbalance, an action that was becoming second nature. The
weapon sliced through Belial’s throat with some difficulty. The tendons and
muscles were as tough as the roots of a tree. She could not cut entirely
through, but the hideous sound dissolved into wet choking. Fresh blood poured
over Belial’s naked body, staining her perfect skin as it flowed.

Portia swung again, aiming to sever the
head entirely, but the demoness was too quick and
evaded the attack. Belial sank her fingers into Portia’s calves, the sharp
golden talons sinking right through the sturdy twill of her trousers and into
the flesh. The pain seared through her and took her breath away. Panting,
Portia tried to pull away, but her legs felt too heavy and thick to move. the
sensation began climbing her thighs, turning her slowly to stone.

Belial’s face had transformed into
something grim and menacing. The wound in her throat lashed
itself back together tendon by vein, and her lips pulled back in a sneer. "I do
not need all of you, daughter-that-once-was, just your heart and that piece of
bone that bears the mark."

Portia’s knees went numb and immobile.
"And I have no need of you at all, any part of you."

She dropped the axe and clutched
Belial’s wrists. She crushed the bones in her grip and drove her energy into
them, remembering the reapers. One by one, long, sharp bone spurs erupted from
Belial’s milky pearl-white flesh, tearing open raw wounds that bubbled with
blood. The demon queen jerked back but Portia held fast, gripping her tightly.
Slowly, the spurs crested along Belial’s extremities like waves, first up her
arms, then down her legs. They sprouted with increasing speed from each rib and
jutted down her spine. Belial’s inhuman wail shrieked through her mutilated
vocal chords, ringing with pain and outrage. She thrashed in Portia’s grasp,
stretching her mouth wide enough to devour Portia’s head in one swallow.

"Clever," she moaned. "Clever bitch.
Too much like your father. We could have him back again, you know. We could
cleave him free of his bonds." She glanced between the axe and Kanika, who
knelt behind them in rapt attention, Portia’s satchel clutched in her small
hands.

Portia bore down,
opening up recesses of power that she had never before tapped. Curls of rancid
smoke rose up from between her fingers and she drove wave upon wave of energy
into the demoness.

Growing desperate,
Belial threw herself onto Portia, knocking them both to the floor and pinning
her to the marble. She thrashed against Portia’s body, seeking to pierce her
with the bone spurs. And as she writhed, her body began to lengthen and morph
into something serpentine and inhuman. Portia fought to keep hold, but the
queen’s wrists were turning soft and supple, like eels, with flesh just as
slick.

The stone flesh of Portia’s legs
rendered her immobile. Belial began to slither free and Portia had no way to
pursue her. With eyes closed, Portia concentrated, driving the sharp points of
bone deeper and deeper into Belial’s flesh, teasing them into hooks and barbs
with serrated edges that tore skin and sinew. When the spurs began to burst
forth from Belial’s jaw, cheekbones, and forehead, the struggle lessened
considerably, but the keening began.

A shudder passed once more through the
palace.

"What will it benefit you to strike me
down?" Belial howled through bloody, clenched jaws. She bucked and writhed,
desperate to get free.

"For me? No benefit, really. Save that
it will take you out of my way, out of the world’s way, and that is all I need.
I only came here for Imogen."

The laughter was guttural and harsh.
"You are an ignorant and misguided fool. And an idiot not to think past the
precious and useless soul of your ladylove. Have you not found your road too
easy? You set foot in the shadow-side and you find yourself at once with a
guide, a weapon, a quest, a path. When I saw her, I knew at once you would come
looking. I made sure to steer your steps to my door. She stood before me in
this hall, you know."

"Yup. Saw that."

"So, you know, then, what I took from
her?"

Portia flinched.

Belial nodded toward the axe lying a
few feet away from them. The shadow-gold coin tied to the leather strip was
glowing softly and sliding across the floor toward Portia.

"What have you done? Tell me!" Spurs
erupted with gouts of flesh and blood from the bones of Belial’s wings,
splattering Portia’s face.

The demon queen laughed, part cackle,
part cough. "I did not take much. Just enough for one little coin. Zepar, on the other hand," the axe rattled against the
marble tiles as she spoke her brother’s name, "he paid dearly for his betrayal.
He played favorites, choosing Nigel over us both. Fathers and sons." She
shrugged. "But when Nigel came crawling back to me, his body killed, his soul
weakened, suddenly his father was not so appealing any longer. And not so
intact, either. Your Imogen, I will admit she makes almost a worthy mate for
you."

The axe clamored now, knocking against
the floor angrily.

Belial turned toward it. "You had your
opportunity, Zepar! You were supposed to help guide
her, to gauge her power, and to help me subdue her. And yet again you abandon
me, you faithless, opportunistic bastard!"

The axe spun across the marble tiles,
nicking Belial’s shoulder before coming to rest in Portia’s palm. She did not
want the thing, had not wanted it since the beginning, but there it sat in her
hand, offering her the means to escape.

"I don’t trust you," Portia said to it,
and it quivered ever so slightly.

"Ruined!" Belial shrieked. "I am ruined
by the lot of you!" She reared up, her grotesque face perched on a dragon-like
body streaming crimson tears. Her clenched fists beat at the air, and she drove
her own long nails into her flesh and screamed in frustration.

With legs still encased in stone,
Portia pulled herself painfully to her knees and brought the blade up into
Belial’s belly. It wedged deeply into the flesh and stuck fast. Portia could
not remove it.

"You cannot kill me, Portia Gyony."
Belial reached out and removed the axe, casting it aside. "You have been a very
naughty child! I have offered you all the power of the under-side, and this is
how you repay me? I shall have to have you punished, my dear girl."

Belial brought one long, haunched leg up and sank sharp toe talons into Portia’s
thighs, wrenching them through both flesh and fabric and the magic that made
them as immobile as rock. Portia pulled herself back, sending blood splashing
across the demoness’ body. It scalded where it landed
and Belial hissed, covering herself with her leathery wings.

Portia struggled to her feet, dragging
one leg beneath her, then the other, and attempting to lever herself above
them. Blood streamed from the wounds in her thighs, dripping into her boots and
making a sticky puddle around her feet. But as it flowed, the stoniness
softened and little by little Portia regained both sensation and movement. "You
have pulled my strings long enough, Belial. Everything I have lost in this life
has been because of you. Lady Hester, Imogen, even Nigel. I can’t even imagine
what kind of person he might have been had it not been for your meddling and
shaping and trying to create us in your warped image!"

"Everything you have lost? No, my
darling. Everything you have, everything you are, is because of me. I gave it
all to you. I sent Zepar to your mother, I made sure
the Grigori found you. I made you! By all rights you
belong to me!"

"I will find a way to destroy you, mark
my words."

"You will not. You cannot."

"No, but I can." The voice surprised
them both. Deadly calm, it did not sound a bit like Kanika.

Belial stiffened and sank to the floor,
the bone spurs snapping off as she fell first to her knees, and then collapsed
with her face knocking thickly against the black marble. A small Blessedwood stake protruded from her back, heavy with the
odor of salvation flower and myrrh. Coppery-purple blood gushed from her wound
and began to weep from her eyes, ears, and mouth. The demon queen writhed, a
scream gargling wetly in her mouth. She bent her elbows in the opposite
direction, but was unable to reach the stake. Frothing blood clotted in her
long golden hair, leaving sopping brush-strokes across the tiles.

"Kanika." Portia gasped out the name,
exhaustion robbing her of the strength to speak above a whisper.