Devdan Manor (8 page)

Uryl stood. “Your power exploded. Nearly killed us. Looks like your violent power is finally good for something.” He jabbed his thumb to the wall. “You removed the marks for a while. You broke the spell on this room. We felt the head demon’s anger. They tried to seal your power. Ryse stopped them. I’m confused, though. I also felt hope and heard laughter.” He shook his head.

Cyl got to his feet. He grinned. “So, they are here.”

Nuall nodded. “And you made sure the trapped demons would leave us alone for a while. However, the wardens won’t let us roam around as we please anymore.”

Cyl cracked his neck. “Small price to pay.”

Ozais struggled to his feet. “They were here all the time. Hiding. Seven-hundred years and they were here.” He cracked his knuckles. “Good”

“What happened?” Cyl asked. “How did a demon get in?”

That was the only way he would have such a vivid nightmare.

“We were careless. We used the same spell too many times. We left the barrier up too long this time. A demon found a way through. It gave us nightmares.”

Cyl’s mind and emotions needed to be level or his power went out of control. If he was angry or in turmoil or even so confused he couldn’t think straight, his power turned into a vicious pet ready to protect its master. It attacked everything.

This was the first time something good came out of it.

“Can you use your power to remove all the seals in this house?” Nuall asked.

Why would she ask that?

“You should know better than that,” Uryl snapped. He turned to Ozais. “How many rooms did Cyl unseal?”

“Two.”

Uryl nodded. “He would have to empty his power to free this house. You know what that means.”

For a demon, their power was their life. If he used it all, he’d die. Uryl had a plan. If that plan failed, Cyl would empty his power and destroy this house.

“Also, it looks like the only way Cyl could remove the seal is if he let his power go out of control. This wasn’t the first time he used his power in this house, but this was the only time the symbols were affected,” Uryl said.

What was the different between his violent power and his power under control? Another thing he needed to figure out once they were free.

Uryl created a dagger and handed it to Ryse. Cyl snatched it from her. Uryl wasn’t the type to do stupid things. Why would he give his eight-year-old baby sister a blade?

Uryl snatched it back and handed it to Ryse.

Uryl glared at Cyl. He did have a plan. “The reason that demon got in was because Ryse drew the protective circles with pen. We need something more permanent.”

Cyl fought with himself. If he took the blade from Ryse again, Uryl would kill him.

“Why can’t one of us draw the circle?”

Uryl cracked his neck. He was losing his patience. Cyl didn’t care.

“The circles and symbols need to be perfect. Ryse is better and faster at it than we are.”

Once they got out of here, Ryse was getting a life outside of drawing spells. She was too good at it for a demon her age.

Ryse gripped the dagger. Cyl turned away. Her smell innocent hand wrapped around the vicious weapon…he didn’t like it. Why was Uryl encouraging her?

“What should I draw?” she asked.

Uryl bit his lip.

“We need something to funnel that one’s power,” Nuall answer instead jabbing her finger at Cyl. “Is there a circle that uses another demon’s power?”

Ryse walked to Cyl. “I need blood.”

Cyl liked this plan less and less. He held out his palm. She slice his flesh. A nice deep wound. If he were human, he’d need a doctor.

The blood pooled in his palm. It spilled over.

“Why isn’t this closing?”

Ryse grabbed his hand and guided him to the wall. “I need to paint with your blood.”

He needed to banish those words in that sweet little voice to the special place in his mind reserved for obscene mental pictures.

Cyl picked her up. With his blood, she drew two open circles facing away from each other connected on a line running through the middle. At each end of the line were small triangles. His blood flooded through the symbols, staining it red.

A shrill voice screamed through the house- shaking the foundation.

Ryse placed her small hand in his bleed palm. The wound closed.

“I have to do this again, don’t I?” He wiped the blood off on his pants.

“Everyone eat quickly,” Uryl ordered. “I have a feeling we’ll be using our powers a lot.” He opened his bag and pulled out dry meat, fruit and water.

They gathered around the food. Cyl’s palm throbbed. His right hand didn’t want to hold anything.

He flexed his fingers.

“That symbol,” Ryse sipped some water, “pulls power from the area that’s cut. It is an old spell. Most demons don’t use it because it slows the healing process.”

Uryl choked. “You should have mentioned that sooner. We need his power.”

“Please, he has enough of it. We’re the ones that might run into a problem,” Nuall said.

Why did she enjoy pointing out how useless he was? In most situations, Cyl couldn’t use his power. It wasn’t his fault. She always made comments like he’d been sitting on his hands the whole time. They’ve only needed protective spells. Cyl’s power was too volatile for that.

Black smoke crept in from the window. It rose through the floor. It slipped in through the walls. It rolled towards them. Uryl threw the food in the bag. The smoke wasn’t in any hurry. It moved like silk in the wind.

Nothing that beautiful could be dangerous. Cyl wanted to touch it. He needed to touch it.

His collar choked him. It pulled him backwards. The smoke reached out thin limbs shaped like vines. The arms twist and swirled. They slowly rose then floated down. A sheet of it with rippled edges leapt across the floor.

Cyl’s collar pulled him away from the darkness. He needed to see more. He needed to stay. His body wouldn’t fight the hand pulling him back.

The darkness was wrong.

No, it was beautiful.

It was dangerous. He shouldn’t touch.

He needed to feel it wrap around his hand. How soft would it be? Would it finally give him peace?”

He was out of the room. The door slammed shut.

They were outside—in a garden. It must have been beautiful at one point. Everything was dead. Pale white plants surrounded them. The bushes and trees were naked. The dry trunks contorted into grotesque shapes. Some trees crawled across the ground as though chasing something even in death. The branches were thin arms with blades for fingers.

The sky was impossibly black. It bore down on them. Cyl felt like he was still in a cage. The sky—it wasn’t vast. It wasn’t filled with possibilities. It was empty. Lonely. It wanted everything under it to feel as it felt.

Sitting between the white trees were old thick stones with faces on them. No matter which direction the stones sat, the eyes were on them. The mouth of theses faces stretched so far the jaw had to have been broken. The faces were made of stone. Why did they still look real, as if something ripped the faces of demons and chiseled them on rock? The faces could see the world. See people walk by but never be a part of them.

“Damn,” Uryl spat. “I was hoping we had more time. Ryse get to work.” He created the blade. “Carve a symbol here, quickly. I need the house to scream.”

Ryse sliced opened Cyl’s palm. She drew in the hard dirt.

Uryl, Nuall and Ozais stood around them.

“Ozais?” Nuall said. “The demons here are only prisoners. They can’t be controlled?”

Ozais chuckled. “Why would you think that?”

“You aren’t being controlled,” she snapped.

“The wardens don’t find me useful.”

“Can they control you?” Uryl asked.

Good question. Why hadn’t they thought of that sooner?

“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. You are stronger than I am. I can’t get through your shields and you haven’t been forthcoming about your powers. I have no useful information to give it.”

Cyl doubted that.

The garden roared. The ground rumbled.

“Still below us,” Uryl said.

Ryse finished the symbol. She closed his wound. His entire hand was one throbbing sore.

He had to deal with it.

“Hold hands,” Uryl ordered.

The wind picked up. The trees creaked. The mouths of the stone faces closed. Their eyes stretched open. Thin strings dropped from a tree limb. Slowly, they braided together forming a thick rope. The braiding stopped. A head made of darkness appeared at the end. The body followed. White eyes stared at them from the black bodies. Dozens of shadow figures hung from the trees. Their white eyes glowed. They raised their arms and dug their fingers in the rope around their necks.

Nuall and Ryse grabbed his hand.

“I need your help, Nuall,” Uryl said. “I’ve never traveled with more than one person.”

Nuall nodded.

Cyl didn’t like this.

The ground swallowed them. He couldn’t see or hear anything. Darkness and dead silence was his world. All he had was the warm connection from Ryse and Nuall’s hand to let him know he wasn’t alone.

They slammed into a hard surface. It knocked the air out of his lungs. He added an ache in his muscles to the one living in his hand.

The world returned.

He forced his weak arms under him and pushed himself off the floor. They had landed on carpet. It smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned in centuries.

He could smell.

A deep voice groaned beside him.

Ozais pushed himself into a sitting position.

“What happened?” Ozais asked.

Uryl struggle to his feet. His legs shook as he stood.

“The house forced us back into a solid form. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Nuall groaned. “It’s not.”

Ryse. Cyl didn’t hear her. He couldn’t see her or sense her. They hadn’t been separated. He had felt her hand. She couldn’t be lost. She was brave and strong. She was still only a child. This place would eat her.

A small hand rested on his shoulder. He threw his arms around Ryse and pulled her into his lap. He was hugging her too tight. He knew it. He couldn’t stop. She was here. He hadn’t lost her.

“Cyl, release her. We need her to draw another symbol.”

Insidious pain shot through his palm. He released her.

He didn’t have to give her this palm. She only need is blood. Didn’t matter where it came from. He’d rather have the pain concentrated to one area.

He held out his hand.

A demon appeared.

Cyl collected Ryse and jumped back. The others did the same.

It was female with beautiful brown skin, short black hair and golden eyes. He had seen her before. She was a subject of one of those portraits. The painting hadn’t been exaggerating. Her purple robes clump to her curves. The sleeves hid her hands. The bottom brushed the floor. It exposed only her neck. A burning red symbol marked her flesh. It matched the writing on the walls.

A fox like creature appeared from behind her. It wrapped around her legs. Different shades of blue rolled through its fur. The paws and tail, however, were deep black. On all four legs, the beast reached the female’s waist. She wasn’t a small demon. That thing was big enough to ride. The female dragged her hand across the animal. The movement rolled back her robe. Thick glowing red lines twisted around her wrist. The fox had the same marking wrapped around all four legs.

Ryse gasped.

“I am supposed to kill you.” The female’s voice was harsher than expect—not unpleasant.

She sighed. Why did he feel sorry for her?

“Get them.”

The fox charged. Cyl put Ryse down. He rushed forward. He created a wall behind him, shielding the others. His power liked to be dramatic.

“Do whatever you want,” he told his power.

His power cheered. It roared as it shot out of him in a black wave. The fox was fast. Cyl dodged. He didn’t have time to think of anything except keep moving. The beast claws and teeth where silver. They felt wrong. He didn’t need them touching him. His power acted on its own. It hovered above, charging at the fox whenever it found an opening. Cyl never liked using his power this way. It enjoyed fighting too much. It would attack anyone. His power was fascinated by the fox. Cyl felt his power’s determination, passion, and obsession. It wanted to taste this animal’s blood.

The fox was too fast. His power charged. The beast dodged and slashed out a claw at Cyl. He jumped back. His power rained down an attack the size of small rocks. The beast avoided all while still slashing his claws and teeth at Cyl.

This was getting them nowhere.

Irritation rose. It wasn’t his own. It was his power.

The black wave dove beneath the floor. The fox focused all its attention on Cyl. He couldn’t keep this up. Most of his power wasn’t in his body. He lost more than half of his strength and speed. His senses weren’t as sharp as they needed to be. The fox’s claws slashed the air close enough to Cyl face he could taste it. He stumbled backwards. His feet couldn’t find a steady ground. He lost his balance. The fox rushed him, mouth open. Cyl had been moving too fast. He couldn’t get his feet and legs to do what he needed them to do.