The Spirit Eater

CHAPTER 10

When the Lord of Storms’ sword cut into Josef’s back, Nico lost control. She raged against the pressure holding her down, muscles burning as she fought to stand and attack the smug man made of storms who stood over Josef. She wanted to rip him open, to eat him whole, to punch that smug look off his face.

All she managed was to lift her head a fraction off the stone before the Lord of Storms’ command slammed it down again.

She turned her cheek against the ground with a frustrated sob. She was so worthless. Across the ravine there was a soft, wet thump as the Lord of Storms turned Josef’s body over with his boot. She heard the hateful sound of his haughty voice, followed by Josef’s hacking cough. Nico began to shake. She couldn’t even lift her head to see him, but she knew, completely and instantly, that Josef was dying. He was dying, and she couldn’t save him. Couldn’t do anything.

She stopped, holding her breath. This was where the voice would speak, offer her power. But her head was silent. The waiting stretched on. She could hear the Lord of Storms telling Josef to stand. Stand and face his death. She heard Josef moving, the great ringing sound of the Heart as he thrust it into the stone to pull himself up. The horrible shallowness of his breath as his life bled out of him.

And still, the voice stayed silent. All she could hear was the pathetic, doomed sound of Josef’s breathing as he stood to face his death. A death she couldn’t even turn her head to see.

Suddenly and without warning, a rage like she’d never felt ripped through her. If this was how it ended, why was she holding out? What did any of her sacrifices mean if Josef died? The Lord of Storms would kill her as soon as he finished Josef. Why was she even trying?

A good question.

Nico gritted her teeth. Fine. She didn’t care anymore.

“You win,” she whispered against the stone. “Give it back.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and irretrievable. Slowly, languidly, the voice answered.

No.

Nico choked. “But you said—”

You want power? Power to save your swordsman?

She nodded.

Then prove it. Beg.

Something inside Nico began to tremble. “What?”

Beg for Josef’s life. The voice spoke each word slowly, pointedly. My gifts are for obedient children. You’ve been quite the pain in my side, little lost seed. If you want my help, beg for my forgiveness.

Nico’s breath came in shallow, tiny gasps. Across the silent pass, she could hear the crackle of the Lord of Storms as he raised his sword, hear the soft drip of Josef’s blood as it hit the stone. She had no more time.

She squeezed her eyes shut with a sob and pressed her forehead into the ground.

“Please,” she whispered, dragging the word out like a vital organ. “Give my power back. Let me save him.”

Deep in her soul, she felt the voice smile. Say it.

“Please,” Nico whispered again. “Master.”

Pain and power hit her like a wall, and the world went black. Nico screamed as her body wrenched itself from the stone, a high, keening sound that grew less and less human with each passing second. Inside her, the seed rose like bile, clawing its way to the front of her mind as deep, triumphant laughter filled her ears.

The Master’s voice wiped out all other sound. Welcome home, little slave.

The last thing Nico saw was Josef’s face, pale and horrified, before the blackness ate everything.

Nico’s scream echoed off the icy walls, repeating over and over in the frozen silence. For a long moment the three of them, Josef, Nico, and the Lord of Storms, stood frozen, and then Nico began to change. Her shaking stopped. She grew taller, her skeletal body rounding out, muscles forming under skin that was no longer pale but growing dusky and hard. With a horrible crack, her broken bone reset itself as her arms stretched out, her fingers lengthening and sharpening until they barely looked human at all. But the worst by far was her eyes. It nearly made Josef sick to watch. Her eyes were stretched wider than any human’s should be, the dark irises fading behind an eerie yellow glow.

She fell to a crouch, her arms and legs spread out around her like a spider about to spring. When she opened her mouth, now horribly stretched to accommodate a growing set of jagged, razor teeth, the sound that came out wasn’t human at all.

“You came to catch a demon, Lord of Storms,” the creature hissed. “Not butcher a man. I am your opponent now.”

As she spoke, something else rode beneath the words, spreading through the canyon in an invisible wave. It struck Josef’s mind like a night terror, a primal fear that went to his core. He was not alone. Above him, the mountains began to shake, the stone squirming and sliding over itself in terror. Josef stumbled as the ground beneath his feet turned to jelly, and it was only with the Heart’s help that he saved his back from another slam as he went down. The whole pass was shaking now, forcing Josef to scramble for cover as boulders began to slide down from the cliffs. Within seconds, the whole ravine was thrashing in terror, all except for the place where Nico stood.

The ground below Nico was no longer dull gray stone streaked with ice, but coal black and bone dry. Even in the dark it stood out from the surrounding, panicking stone. It was a blot, a circle of dead, quiet nothing spreading from her feet, and as it grew, so did Nico.

She’s eating the mountain. The Heart’s voice boomed in Josef’s head. You have to stop her.

Josef flinched at the edge on the Heart’s voice. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said the sword was afraid. He started to ask how he was supposed to do that when another voice crashed through his mind, crushing every other sound.

Don’t move.

The ravine froze. The mountains froze. Nico froze. Even Josef went perfectly still. Stones hung frozen in midfall and dust stood suspended in the air. Nothing dared to move. On the opposite edge of the pass, the Lord of Storms lowered his hands with a grim smile. His body was going fuzzy at the edges, little bits of his clothes fading back and forth from cloud to flesh while his sword flickered in his hand, the blade flashing between metal and a curved bolt of lightning.

Josef’s eyes widened. He tried frantically to get his sword up, but he could no more move than he could hear the spirits’ voices. However, the Lord of Storms seemed to have forgotten him entirely. His attention was only for Nico.

“You,” he said, his voice thick with something very close to joy. “It is you, isn’t it? I always knew. I always knew you weren’t dead. I had no proof, but I knew.” He threw out his empty hand and another sword, a perfect twin of the blade he grasped in his right, flashed into existence. “Now”—his face broke into a monstrous grin—“now we finish what we started.” He raised his swords for the charge. “Daughter of the Dead Mountain!”

Across the frozen pass Nico screamed, a horrible sound of loss and mad anger woven through hundreds of voices, and vanished. She exploded from the shadows behind the Lord of Storms an instant later, her claws going for his back, just as he had struck Josef. The Lord of Storms turned without moving. One second his back was to her, and then his body flickered and he was facing her, meeting her blow with both blades, his face mad with joy as they crashed in a shower of sparks.

The Lord of Storms swept his swords with a roar, cutting a great gash in the mountainside. Nico dodged easily, flitting up through the shadows to the cliff top before launching herself down again, claws going straight for his unguarded head. She laughed as she flew, reveling in the intoxicating freedom of her power. Everything was so easy, so fast. Strength pounded through her limbs, banishing the pain, the fear, the constant worry. With all the power flowing through her there was simply no room for thought, no time for it. All that existed was her, the power, and the threat who must be killed. What did it matter if she couldn’t stop to remember why?

She landed on the Lord of Storms with a gleeful scream, rending him from shoulder to ankle before he managed to flash away. For an intoxicating moment she could taste him on her fingers, a sharp mix of electricity and compressed power. Oh, what she could do with that power if only she could get more.

“You’ll find me hard to chew, monster.” The Lord of Storms’ voice echoed through the ravine, and Nico turned just in time to see him blink back into existence, whole and uninjured as always.

Nico frowned. Had she spoken out loud? Well, no matter. He’d chosen a bad place to reform; his back was full to the shadows. She grinned wide and prepared for another jump.

The Lord of Storms lowered his swords. “How much longer will this farce go on?”

Nico shifted, unsure at this new ruse.

“The years you spent in starvation with the thief must have damaged you,” he said, thrusting his sword at her. “This is barely worth my time. Look at you, nearly human, too weak to even damage my human shade. Any of my League could cut you down as you are now.”

Nico answered by slipping through the shadows behind him, leaping at his open back. He spun and met her halfway, lightning swords cutting deep into her wrists. She screamed in pain and danced back while the Lord of Storms looked on with disgust.

“I have seen you hover in the sky on impossible wings,” he sneered. “Blacker than night and larger than the mountain that spawned you. I have seen you eat Great Spirits like a wolf eats rabbits. Do not insult me by pretending at this weakness!”

He vanished only to reappear behind Nico, his long swords pressed against her throat. “Let go,” he hissed in her ear. “Let go and we shall fight as never before. I have been hobbled and bored these past years, a slave to that woman’s fancies. Give me something to feel alive again or I will kill you here.”

Really, my Lord of Storms? You would sacrifice the lives of innocent spirits for a good fight?

“Really, my Lord of Storms?” Nico whispered, her throat fluttering against the swords as she breathed. “You would sacrifice the lives of innocent spirits for a good fight?”

The blades at her neck drew closer. “Spirits are sheep,” he said bitterly. “Stupid, panicky creatures. I am the Shepherdess’s dog, sworn to keep predators from the flock. If a few sheep are killed in the wolf catching, what does it matter? So long as the wolf is killed, the dog is free to do what it likes. And it’s been so long since I had a real challenge.” The blades drew closer still.

Nico flitted away, emerging from the shadows at the other end of the ravine clutching her bleeding throat. Deep in her mind, a feeling of wrongness nagged at her. She shouldn’t be doing this, but why? It was so hard to concentrate.

Forget it. The Master’s voice flooded her mind, cold and dark and reassuringly strong. You’re home, Nico. You don’t have to think anymore. You don’t have to try. Go to sleep. Put yourself in my hands and I will awaken you to your full potential. Then we’ll see if our dear Lord of Storms stays so cocky.

Nico almost cried as the relief washed over her. She’d been fighting for so long, what or how she couldn’t remember, but she felt the tiredness in her bones. But everything was different now. The Master was with her. She could give in. Already she was relaxing into the welcome dark. As she sank, she could hear a girl’s voice screaming, crying. It sounded so familiar, but Nico couldn’t be bothered to turn and see. She was so tired.

There’s a good girl.

Just as the last bits of her mind began to sink into the dark at the heart of her soul, something extraordinary happened. All at once, the mountain silence was broken by a deep, ringing gong. The sound of it shook the ground below her feet and forced her eyes open. Across the ravine, the Lord of Storms stood against the cliff, a surprised expression on his face and the great iron length of the Heart of War sticking out of his chest, pinning him to the stone like a butterfly on a board. For a second, all was still, and then, with a great rumbling roar, the Heart’s spirit burst open, and the weight of a mountain slammed down.

Nico went down flat on her back, pinned to the icy stone, unable to move. Even the Lord of Storms was still, crushed by the mountain’s weight. A few feet from her, at the edge of the ravine, a man pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. She watched him get up, amazed that he was moving, for he was covered in blood. He stood a moment, steadying his large frame on his shaky feet, and started to hobble toward her, his scarred face terrifying in its determination.

“Nico.” His voice was as bloody as the rest of him. “You told me you would never give up.”

Nico hissed and struggled, but the mountain’s weight held her flat. The man didn’t seem hindered at all. He limped over and fell to his knees beside her. “What you’re doing isn’t fighting,” he said softly. “It isn’t moving forward. It isn’t making anyone stronger. So long as you want to keep trying, keep fighting, I’ll fight beside you. But if you’ve truly given up, then I’ll save the Lord of Storms the trouble and kill you myself.” He sat back and met her eyes with a calm, serious gaze. “Are you still with us, Nico?”

Somewhere inside her, deeper than the dark she longed to escape into, deeper than the Master’s iron, undefeatable power, a tiny, sobbing voice answered, “Yes.”

“Then take another breath,” said Josef. “And come back.”

Don’t listen, the Master said. He’s sabotaging you. He doesn’t want you to be stronger than him.

Nico pushed the voice down with a firm mental hand. “No,” she said.

She spoke with her own voice now, the small, pathetic thing crawling up from the depths it had been pushed into, and all at once, her spirit poured open. She ripped the darkness that had claimed her mind, shredding it to nothing, pushing free. Her body convulsed against her, clinging to the strength, the power, but she threw the demon gifts away. The second she cast them aside, the pain flooded back, and she screamed in agony as her body withered back to its true, bony shape. Her vision went dark as the nightsight left her, and her eyes burned as the demon light faded. But even as she transformed from powerful being to shuddering wreck, Nico began to sob with relief. Despite all odds, despite the terrible pain, she had not lost herself. She was still human.

Well, mostly.

When she could open her eyes again, she looked down at her once broken left arm, squinting in the dark. What she saw didn’t surprise her, but knowing made it no less terrifying. There, growing out of her shoulder where her left arm should have been, was a demon claw. Its skin was as black as the Dead Mountain, and the curled hand had claws instead of fingers. The limb was awkward and ugly, far too long for her small body. Experimentally, she tried moving it, and the pain that followed sent spots dancing over her vision. When she could breathe again she clutched the arm to her side as best she could under the Heart’s enormous pressure, belatedly trying to hide the hideous thing from Josef.

But Josef just looked at her with dry interest. “Can’t change it back?”

Nico shook her head.

A reminder—the Master’s voice was hard and cutting—of what you threw away. When will you learn, idiot girl? You can’t stop being what you are just because you say so. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine, and I will have you in the end.

“Not if I can help it,” Nico grumbled, less sure than she would have liked.

We’ll see. The Master’s voice sweetened. Just remember, I didn’t force this on you. You begged to have your power back. It’s only a matter of time before you beg again. When that happens, Nico, there will be no turning back.

To make the point, her demon arm began to burn. Nico clutched it to her side, closing her eyes against the sudden tears of pain. Josef stayed on his knees beside her, waiting patiently until she opened them again.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you up yet,” he said, his voice straining. “The Heart’s the only thing keeping the Lord of Storms from ripping us both apart.”

Nico nodded, glad that she had an excuse to stay on her back. “What are we going to do?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Josef said, grabbing her coat and tossing it over her.

The coat began trying to wrap itself around her as soon as it landed, but Nico paid no attention. “We have to treat your wounds,” she said, eyeing the blood on the ground with growing fear.

“I’m fine for now,” Josef said. “The Heart is helping me. It’s been carrying me this whole time.”

Nico shook her head. “Still, you have to do something before—”

Josef raised his hand sharply and she snapped her mouth shut, confused. Then she felt it as well. Deep below the crushing weight that held her down, something was pushing back. Overhead, the dark clouds churned in a great vortex, flashing with lightning as a howling wind blew ice in horizontal sheets across the ravine’s top. The stone cliffs began to groan as the Heart fought back, but the storm was quickly growing into a hurricane, and the Heart, powerful as it was, was still just a sword.

With a scrape of metal, the black blade slid out of the stone, landing with a resounding clang at the Lord of Storms’ feet. As it fell, the mountainous weight vanished, and the Lord of Storms stepped forward, his face pale as lightning and contorted with rage. He walked toward them, growing larger with every step as entire pieces of his body swirled between solid flesh and looming storm. His swords were no longer even a semblance of mundane weapons, but two controlled bolts of hissing blue lightning clutched in his hands.

“I’m through playing,” he said, his voice true rumbling thunder as he raised the lightning in his hands. “This ends now.”

Nico could only stare at the bright death coming toward them, but beside her, she felt Josef start to stand. Of course, she thought, he would never sit for his death. Jaw clenching, Nico started to stand as well, clutching her useless black arm as she struggled to her feet.

The Lord of Storms began to charge, raising his lightning swords with a shout of pure rage as he barreled toward them. Standing beside Josef, Nico squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the strike.

But the blow never came.

She waited, confused, before slowly opening her eyes. Then she blinked them again, not sure of what they showed her.

Eli stood between them and the Lord of Storms. He was still in his black thief suit, and he was standing with his arms out, perfectly still. The Lord of Storms was still as well, his lightning blades a scarce half inch from Eli’s forehead.

At first Nico didn’t understand why the Lord of Storms had stopped, or how he could have stopped a blow with such momentum. Then she saw it. Just above Eli’s head, sticking out through a white line in reality, was a pure white hand. It reached through the air, the long, shapely fingers clutched around the Lord of Storms’ lightning swords. The ravine was deathly silent. Nothing made a sound. Even the Lord of Storms was still, a horrified expression on his white face. In the stillness, a second line appeared beside the Lord of Storms, and another white hand shot out to grab him around the throat. The Lord of Storms made a frantic, choking sound, and then, in the space it took to blink, he was gone. The Lord of Storms had simply vanished. The white hands were gone too; so were the dark clouds overhead and the howling wind, leaving them alone in the now silent ravine.

Eli turned around, taking off his mask. “You all right, Josef?”

Josef looked at him a second and started to say something, but before he could get out a sound his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled over, landing on the stone with a horrible, folding crunch.

“Josef!” Nico and Eli cried together, dropping to their knees beside the swordsman.

“Powers,” Eli muttered, looking around. “I didn’t know he had this much blood in him.” He reached down and grabbed Josef’s shoulder, grunting with effort as he lifted the swordsman to get a look at the wound on his back. When he saw it, his face went white.

“His back is filleted,” he said, turning to Nico. “How long did he fight like this?”

“I—” Nico stopped, shuddering as she remembered the dark haze that had consumed her mind for part of the fight. “I’m not sure. Things happened quickly.”

Eli looked at her, but not like he usually did. Not slyly or openly or with one of his too congenial smiles. No, he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, and Nico felt something clench inside her.

He knew.

He knows everything, the voice whispered.

At her side, the black, monstrous arm began to burn, and Nico clenched it closer under the drape of her coat, glad that this at least was hidden from Eli’s piercing glare.

Finally, Eli turned his eyes back to Josef. “We need to get him medical attention,” he said softly. “And we’re not going to find that here. Let’s start with getting him to the Heart. Where is it?”

Nico pointed across the ravine to the great crater in the wall where the Lord of Storms had been pinned. It was so dark now she couldn’t even see the Heart’s shape on the ground, but she could feel it, a large, angry presence in the dark.

Eli nodded and slid his arms under Josef’s. “Help me. He’s a lug, but we’ve a better chance of moving him than the Heart.”

Nico nodded and moved to Josef’s feet, grabbing one with her good arm and one with her demon claw through her coat. If Eli noticed the strange arrangement, he gave no sign. Together, grunting with effort, they lifted Josef off the ground and shuffled him over to his sword. They nearly dropped him when they reached it, but found the final bit of strength to put the swordsman down gently before flopping on the ground beside him, panting.

“I like the muscles more when he’s the one carrying them,” Eli groaned, leaning back against the shattered cliff face. He reached out and wrapped Josef’s hand around the Heart’s hilt. The unconscious grimace on the swordsman’s face eased at the contact, and his breathing grew less shallow, but he still looked deathly pale.

“We have to get him to help,” Nico said.

“I know that,” Eli snapped, whipping his head to look at her. “Where are your manacles?”

Nico flinched. “Over there. I had to—”

Eli waved his hand dismissively. “If you’re still human it couldn’t have gone that badly. Get them; we’re leaving in just a moment.”

Nico nodded and hurried across the bloody stone with a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. Eli had never been this sharp toward her.

He’s using you because he can’t move the swordsman alone, the Master said calmly. How practical.

Nico closed her mind to the sound and walked over to where her manacles were lying in the center of the black circle of stone. She hesitated. She could feel the absence of the stone’s spirit here like a hot brand across her body. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and grabbed her manacles, slapping them on as fast as she could. They began to buzz like insects the moment they touched her, and she felt some of the pressure ease from her mind. When they were all in place, two on her wrists, two on her ankles, and the large ring around her neck, she put her coat on properly, keeping the demon arm inside beside her rather than chance putting it through the sleeve. Throwing her hood up so her face was hidden, she turned away from the circle of dead stone and ran to where Josef had dropped his weapons. These she picked up lovingly, gathering the bandoliers of throwing knives, the sheathed swords, and the long-handled daggers he wore in his boots into her arms before hurrying back to Eli.

The thief nodded when she approached, but he didn’t look at her. He was staring down the ravine they’d climbed to get here, his face invisible in the dark.

“There’s no chance we can get him down that, is there?”

Nico looked down at the steep mountainside they’d scrambled up only hours ago, before everything went wrong. “No.”

Eli sighed. “Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.” He stopped and looked at her, eyes flashing in the dark. “What I’m about to do, you will tell no one.” His voice was quiet and deadly serious. “Swear to me on Josef himself you won’t.”

Nico stepped back. “What are you going to do?”

“Just swear,” Eli said.

“I swear,” Nico answered quickly. If it would save Josef, she didn’t care if Eli turned into the Master of the Dead Mountain himself.

“Right.” Eli turned away. “I’d say don’t look, but there’s really no point anymore. Just don’t say anything. I haven’t done this in a while.”

Nico nodded, but Eli wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. He walked to stand at Josef’s feet and, after a deep breath, closed his eyes. Nico leaned forward, expecting to feel the hot rush of his open spirit crash over her like it had before, back with the bears, but she felt nothing but the cold wind. So far as she could tell, Eli was just standing there. Then, without warning, the air rippled in the dark in front of him, and a thin, white line appeared. It grew as Nico watched, cutting soundlessly through the empty space until it was as tall as Eli himself. When it reached the ground, it turned slightly, and a hole opened. Nico blinked in amazement. Hanging in the air in front of them was a door in the world. Through it she could see what looked like the inside of a small cabin, complete with a cold stone fireplace and green trees dancing outside the tiny window. She stared unbelieving even as a warm breeze floated through to brush her skin. Nico breathed it in, smelling pine and the musty scent of unused furniture. It was real, but where it was Nico had no idea.

Eli nodded and turned to grab Josef’s arms again. His movement snapped Nico out of her gawking, and she scrambled to get the swordsman’s legs. Using Josef’s arm to move the Heart, for there was no other way to move it, they placed the black blade on his chest. Then, grunting with effort, they lifted sword and swordsman and carried them through the hole in the air.

Nico gasped as she stepped through. The biting cold of the pass vanished instantly, replaced with crisp air that felt almost balmy by comparison. Their boots clomped on the wooden floorboards, tracking in dirty snow that melted quickly as they lugged Josef through the gap in the world. The second Eli was through, the opening vanished, fading into the air with only the lingering smell of ice and stone to prove that it had ever been.

They were standing at the center of a large, well-appointed cabin filled with evening sunlight. Paintings of rustic scenes hung on the rough timber walls above dusty racks of wine bottles and sheet-covered furniture. There were even gold candlestick holders on the mantel above the large stone fireplace.

“Stop gawking and help me get him on the bed,” Eli gasped, pulling Josef’s shoulders toward a narrow bed in the corner. Nico scrambled to help, and together they set the swordsman down on the heavy blankets.

“We have to stop his bleeding,” Eli said, pushing past Nico toward a chest at the other end of the room. He dug into it, pulling out a jug of clear liquor, bandages, and a surgeon’s thread and needle. “You’ll have to sew him up,” he said. “Help me turn him over.”

“No,” said Josef’s breathy, pained voice.

Eli and Nico were at his side in an instant.

“Don’t be stupid,” Eli said. “And don’t talk. We’re going to get you patched up.”

“No,” Josef said again, shaking his head. “The Heart is telling me it’s going to handle things.”

“What?” Eli cried. “Is the pain making you delusional? You can’t even hear spirits and you’re telling me your sword is promising to un-fillet your back?”

“Something like that,” Josef whispered. “The Heart also says that it has a lot more experience in keeping swordsmen alive than you do, and that you should mind your own business.”

Eli jerked back. “And does it have anything else to add?”

“Yes.” Josef’s voice began to slur and fade. “Don’t move me for two days.”

“Two days?” Eli shouted. “We’re supposed to sit here and watch you bleed for two days?”

But Josef didn’t answer. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, his chest moving in long, shallow breaths beneath the Heart of War, which lay across his chest from chin to knees with his white-knuckled hands still clutching the hilt. With a long, angry sigh, Eli pushed away from the bed and began shoving the first-aid supplies back into the trunk. Nico watched, biting her lip as Eli walked over to the dusty wine stand, grabbed a bottle at random, and flopped down on the floor.

When it was clear he was more interested in digging the old cork out with one of Josef’s throwing knives than giving her vital information, Nico asked the burning question. “Where are we?”

“Safe,” Eli said, popping the cork at last. “Well, safer. We’re still in the Sleeping Mountains, though not as far north as we were, and much farther east, about fifty miles from the coast. This is one of Giuseppe Monpress’s many hideouts. The old fox set them up years ago as refuges of last resort in case things got too hot, which explains the extravagant furnishings.” He cast a disapproving eye at the richly appointed wine rack. “He could never stand to be without his luxuries. We’re still technically inside Council lands, but no patrols come up here.”

Something about the way he said that made Nico distinctly uncomfortable. “Why not?”

Eli took a long drink from the bottle. “Because this is bandit land,” he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The Council can claim it all they want, but without influence in the area, it’s all talk. Izo is the real power here.” He took another swig. “Bastard has a bounty higher than mine.”

“Will he be a problem?” Nico said.

“Shouldn’t be,” Eli answered, leaning back against the cabin wall. “Not unless we make trouble for him, which we might have to.” A strange expression passed over his face. “I didn’t just choose this place because it was safe and far away. This is also the closest spot I knew to where Sted is.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “It worked then! You learned where Sted is!” She couldn’t believe it. Her plan had worked! But Eli didn’t look happy.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Among other things.”

Nico flinched at the bitterness in his voice. The black arm began to ache beneath her coat, and Nico clutched it as subtly as she could. It didn’t matter, though. Eli was staring into his bottle with a focus so intense, she got the feeling he was not looking at the wine so much as avoiding looking at her. A cold, heavy feeling settled at the base of Nico’s stomach, and she scooted closer to Josef, tilting her head down so she didn’t have to watch Eli staring anywhere but her.

You always knew he would turn on you. The Master’s voice was soft and coy. It was only a matter of time.

Nico put her head on her knees. Outside, the sun sank lower. It was going to be a long two days.

Benehime stood in her white nothing, a furious scowl on her perfect white face as she stared at the man hanging suspended by his thumbs in the air before her.

You presume too much! she hissed, her voice like cut glass as she paced back and forth in front of the Lord of Storms’ dangling body. I told you to stay away. I told you to let it be. And still you disobey!

On her last word, she slapped him across the face. Wherever she touched him, his body broke apart into black, flashing clouds. The Lord of Storms cried out, his voice more gale than scream.

You are my creation! she roared. Mine to do with as I see fit! To use in what work I choose! A tool does not act without its master, or have you forgotten what you are?

She lowered her hand, and the Lord of Storms slowly pulled himself back together. But when his face reformed from the thunderheads, his murderous expression was even harsher than hers.

“It is you who has forgotten, Shepherdess,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You knew the Daughter of the Dead Mountain was still alive. You knew, and you let her wander free, all because of your shameful intoxication with that thief! Have you forgotten what happened the last time she awoke? Have you forgotten your duty?”

I forget nothing! Benehime began to stalk back and forth in front of him. Do you think I fear the demon? The little worm trapped under a rock he can never lift? In the five thousand years since I tore the spirit from the mountain and flung the dead stone on top of him, the creature has never managed to get so much as a tendril over the edge of my seal. The seeds he sends out are a nuisance, nothing more. And even if he succeeded, even if a seed managed to grow large enough to be a real threat, I would just trap the new demon as I trapped its father.

“And at what cost?” the Lord of Storms yelled, straining against the unbreakable force of the Lady’s will that held him in place. “I don’t know if you’ve taken time from your little one-sided love affair to notice, but this world isn’t what it was, Shepherdess! This isn’t some nuisance seed grown too big. If the Daughter of the Dead Mountain were to fully awaken and start feeding in earnest, we would need another great mountain to keep her down, and we both know you no longer have one to spare. Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”

He jerked against his bonds like he was trying to throw his arms out, but all he managed was to set himself swinging slightly in her hold. Still, from the way her eyes narrowed, it was clear Benehime didn’t need the gesture to know what he meant.

All around them, at the edges of her white world where she did not look, something was moving. Everything was still perfect, still flawless white, but beyond the white perfection, something pressed against the walls of her world. Long claws scraped at the barrier like knives against a sheet stretched taut, probing and searching for weakness. The movements were small, faint, gray shadows, but they were everywhere, pressing in on every inch of the Shepherdess’s domain.

“They never get tired, do they?” the Lord of Storms whispered. “That is the fate that awaits all of us if you forget your duty.”

I forget nothing, the Lady said, layering cold power into the words until he writhed beneath her voice, his body flashing between flesh and storm. But even her displeasure was not enough to keep the Lord of Storms from raising his head to met her eyes again.

“Everything I do.” He spat the words at her. “Everything I’ve ever done has been in your service. If you will not let me do my job, then dissolve me back into wind and water right now, because I won’t stop until all demonseeds, all threats to your domain, are crushed, even those who hide in your favorite’s shadow.”

Enough! The Lady’s voice echoed through the white nothing, and the Lord of Storm’s body dissolved into cloud, his cry of pain becoming a low rumble of thunder.

You would be so lucky if I dissolved you, she said, glaring at the thunderhead floating where the Lord of Storms’ suspended body had been only a second before. But you belong to me, and I have no desire to toss you aside just yet. I have been too soft with you for too long. Go and blow out your anger over the sea. We’ll see if some time as a mindless storm will help you remember the obedience you owe me.

She waved her hand and the thunderhead vanished. Baring her teeth at the place where he had been, the Lady whirled around and stalked back to her sphere.

In all her white world, the sphere alone was vibrant and colorful. Inside that perfect bubble, the world, her world, hung in suspended beauty. Continents floated on a flat, glassy sea, their wrinkled faces covered with tiny forests, golden deserts, and rolling plains dotted with tiny grazing creatures. White-capped mountains rose from the forested hills, their snow-covered peaks cutting through the clouds like islands on a second, sky-bound sea. Deep beneath the oceans, sea trenches scored the heavy layers of stone that filled the lower half of the sphere, cutting down to the glittering red flow of the magma that pooled at the sphere’s lowest point.

Benehime’s eyes flicked past all this with the contempt born of long familiarity, darting past the mountains and the glittering rivers to a wild stretch of sea. The moment she focused on the sea, the Lord of Storms appeared above it. In his true form, he was the size of a small continent and utterly mad, a roving war of wind and water. As she watched, the storm spun in circles, eating the lesser clouds, whipping the sea into a froth. Storm surges forty feet high began to wash over the southern tip of the eastern continent, soaking the desert beneath a brine of terrified water. Benehime watched as a medium-sized city was washed under, and then she turned away in disgust.

Who was he to think he could tell her things she did not already know? She was the Shepherdess, had been the Shepherdess since the beginning. Everything within the sphere was hers alone to direct, to control. In the balance of power between her and her brothers, this was her domain. She turned back to the sphere, looking not at the growing storm, but north to the wooded foothills of the white-capped mountains.

She laid her hands lovingly along the curve of the sky. Angry as she was, there was opportunity here. The Lord of Storms had disobeyed her, raised his sword to her favorite, but he had also forced Eli to use the power she’d given him to travel her sphere freely for the first time in years. He’d shown he was willing to use gifts he’d sworn to her face he would never touch again in order to save his swordsman. What other slips might he be willing to make if pressed hard enough?

A smile spread across her white lips. Now that her darling had decided to play with things she’d warned him against, life was going to be a great deal more difficult for him. Usually, this would be the point where she stepped in to help, but not this time. This time, the Lady decided, she would make Eli come to her. This time, she’d let him stay on the hook, let things get as bad as they could get. Only when he was broken and defeated would he realize what he had thrown away. That, when he begged for her help, was when she would save him and bring him home at last to her side.

Benehime sank down beside her sphere, watching the northern forest where, somewhere, her favorite was sleeping. Behind her, ignored, the claws continued to slide over the edge of her white world while far, far away, too distant for any ears except her own, something screamed in endless hunger. Benehime turned her head and leaned forward farther still, deftly focusing her attention on the tiny world inside the sphere until it was all she knew.