Rival Demons (8 page)

With trembling hands, the shaman woman wrapped
her long fingers around the mouth of the floating bottle. I
flinched at the sound of burning flesh, but the woman hardly seemed
to notice that the bottle was steaming hot. Her grip was firm as
she tipped the bottle over and poured it onto Mary Anne's
wound.

The scream that tore from Mary Anne's lips
ripped through me like a chainsaw. I bolted from my quiet spot in
the corner and threw myself at the shaman. Before I could reach her
and stop her from hurting my friend, Jackson's arms closed around
my middle, one hand slapping across my mouth to keep me from
interrupting the ritual. I struggled against him, anger bubbling
within me.

Couldn't he see that this woman was making it
worse? She was going to kill her!

But my tired body lost energy quickly. I slumped
against him, my chest heaving with each breath.

"Shhh," he whispered, his warm breath against my
skin breaking my heart further. "She's going to be better, just
wait."

I watched as Mary Anne settled back onto the
couch. Her eyes were still closed, but her body writhed against the
fur of the couch. The shaman placed both of her hands on Mary
Anne's injury, rubbing the orange liquid into the wound.

The pain on Mary Anne's face tortured me. I
could only hope she was too far gone to know what was really
happening.

When it was over, the shaman priestess lifted
her hands from Mary Anne's side. I couldn't tell if the wound was
better or worse. It was covered in a thick orange paste. The woman
stood, wiped her hands on a towel, then placed the empty vial back
in her bag.

She stood and nodded to Lea. "I have sealed the
wound," she said. "I am sorry to say that this young one would have
died if you had not brought her here when you did."

I pulled away from Jackson's hold. "She's going
to be okay?"

The shaman woman looked at me, and instead of
frowning or looking at me like I was a cockroach, she actually
smiled at me. "Yes, my dear, your friend is going to be just fine,"
she said. "And so will you, in time. Wounds of the heart take much
longer to heal."

I stared at her, surprise rooting me to the
spot. My gaze flicked to Jackson, then down to the ground. How did
she know? Was it really that obvious?

Lea walked the woman to the door. "Is there
anything special we need to do for her?"

"Just make sure she leaves the paste on the
wound for at least a week," she said. "And under no circumstances
can she come in contact with the fur of another tiger for the next
several months."

Lea smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that
shouldn't be a problem," she said. "Unless you guys have a lot of
tigers down here."

The shaman smiled. "None that I'm aware of," she
said.

Before she left, the shaman looked at me one
more time and smiled. I nodded to her and she nodded back. The look
in her blue-again eyes said this woman could see deeper inside of
me than even I could see. But what was it that brought on this sad,
knowing smile?

It was a smile that said she knew my fate, my
past and future pain. She knew my destiny.

As she disappeared behind the closing double
doors, I felt a powerful urge to run after her and ask her what she
saw. What she knew.

But fear held me to this spot, not wanting to
know the truth.

Once the shaman left and Mary Anne was sleeping
soundly on the comfort of the couch, I decided to explore the rest
of the suite. Lea claimed a room in the very back of the apartment.
There were two additional bedrooms, each on an opposite side of the
living room.

I peered into the first one. Decorated in pure
white linens and furniture, the walls in this room were the same
slate blue-gray color as the walls in the rest of the suite. The
floors were pure white marble like most of the floors in the
Underground seemed to be so far. I sighed in relief as the coolness
of the tile soothed my weary feet.

"How are you feeling?"

Jackson stood behind me in the doorway, but I
didn't turn around.

"Fine," I said, stiffening. "Did you need
something?"

Okay, so I was giving him a bit of cold-shoulder
treatment, but how else was I supposed to get over him and move on?
If he kept touching me and whispering in my ear, there would be no
end to the torture.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he
said, sadness in his tone.

I walked around the room, running my hand over
the pure white wood of the desk and opening one of the drawers.
Pretending his presence had no effect on me.

"I'm fine, just checking out the rooms," I said.
"I wanted to see which one looked more comfortable for Mary
Anne."

"I think they're both exactly the same," he
said. "You should each have your own bathroom."

He stepped into the room and opened a door just
beside the bed. Beyond the frame, I could make out a small
shower.

"I guess if they're the same, I'll just take
this one, then," I said, staying on the opposite side of the room
instead of walking over to inspect the bathroom. "If you don't
mind, I'd like to get showered and see if I can find something else
to wear."

"Oh yeah," he said, taking a few quick steps to
the bed. He crouched down and pulled a drawer out from under the
bed. "Jericho said Andros had someone from the marketplace tailor
some clothes for you and Mary Anne. They should be down here."

He reached in and pulled out a stack of
clothing, laying it out on the bed.

"How do I know if these are mine or Mary
Anne's?" I held one of the shirts up and it looked too big for
either of us.

"Magic," he said, pretending to examine the
shirt. His hand brushed mine, and I stepped away, letting the shirt
fall to the bed. "They should be made so that once you put them on,
they form themselves to your body in a perfect fit."

I sat down on the heavenly soft comforter to get
a closer look at the clothes, and sunk in deeper than I imagined I
would. It was like sitting on top of a cloud. I couldn't help but
smile, despite the tension in the room. I wanted to lay back in it
and disappear inside of it for the next twelve hours.

But when I caught Jackson's eye and saw him
smiling back at me, I tensed. Wasn't this exactly the kind of thing
we weren't allowed to do? If the demons here didn't approve of me,
they surely wouldn't find it appropriate for him to be standing
here with me in my private bedroom. Our eyes locked, but I looked
away, not wanting to start a conversation that would only lead to
tears. I wanted to be strong, not some weepy little girl who
couldn't face reality.

"Thanks," I said. I made a point to look at the
open door behind him. "I think I'm all set here then."

Jackson stood and nodded. "Sure," he said,
sadness darkening his eyes. "If you need anything I'll be in the
apartment down the hall marked with a clear stone. It's on the left
side of the hallway."

I nodded and reluctantly stood up from the
comfort of the bed. I walked him to the door and put my hand on it
so that he knew I intended to close him out as soon as he cleared
the doorway.

"I might be in some meetings for the next few
days, so I'm not sure how much I'll be able to come around," he
said, lingering just inside the room. "I'll come by to check on
Mary Anne when I can, and I'll make sure Jericho keeps the kitchen
stocked for you."

I lifted my chin. "I can take care of myself," I
said. "And Mary Anne. You don't have to worry about babysitting
us."

Jackson cleared his throat. "I know you can," he
said. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable since you aren't
allowed to leave the suite."

I nodded, understanding the gravity of his
words. We were stuck here in this suite indefinitely while he and
Lea talked to the council. I suddenly felt very alone and very
trapped. I felt the sting of tears, but refused to let them show.
Not in front of him.

"Okay, well, have fun with your meetings," I
said, my tone short and cutting. I closed the door, slowly pushing
him out of my space.

"Harper," he said, pleading.

I didn't let him finish whatever it was he
wanted to say. I simply closed the door and leaned against it,
waiting for the sound of his boots against the tile before I let
the tears begin to fall.

I stepped into the small shower in my private
bathroom. The warm water felt like heaven as I washed about a pound
of dirt off of my body. I chose a fruity-smelling shampoo and
lathered up my greasy, dirty hair, laughing as the water at my feet
ran brown. I was suddenly grateful I hadn't come across any mirrors
in the week since we'd first gotten to the shadow world.

With every speck of dirt that slid off my body,
I thought of the days I'd lived since that fateful day at
Shadowford. Had it really only been a few days? Why did I feel so
different?

Maybe it was because I'd been reborn. Given a
second chance at life. Or was it third or fourth at this point?
Either way, I wasn't going to let this one go to waste. I had never
been so sure of my own death as I had been in the ritual room that
day. I had never felt so helpless.

Hopeless.

And I never wanted to feel that way again.

As I scrubbed, my laughter turned to anger. No
one had any right to have that much power over me, much less
thousands of other witches. The Order of Shadows recruited us with
smiles and promises of unlimited power, fun spells, and timeless
beauty. Then, when it was too late, they revealed their true
methods, the slavery of demons. When it was time to make our
choice, the choice itself was taken away.

I thought of Brooke's initiation ceremony. The
way they dragged her into the room, her screams of protest echoing
through the woods, was torture. She didn't want to be one of them.
She didn't want to change her goals and dreams for the Order.

And yet, as soon as it was done, she was
different. She'd been brainwashed somehow to believe that the
Order's wishes were now her own. It wouldn't be long before they
did the same thing to Lark and to Allison and to every other girl
in every other demon gate town.

What gave them the right to steal our lives and
our power? What gave them the right to steal our choices?

I had escaped, but not every girl had that
chance.

If it were up to Jackson, I would stay here,
hiding out from the Order of Shadows for the rest of my life. I
knew he only wanted me to be safe. But I couldn't stay. Not
forever. I would live here just long enough to get my strength
back, and then I would return to Peachville. Somehow, I would have
my revenge and put a stop to their ways.

Of course, it would be easier with Jackson and
the others fighting by my side, but even if I had to fight alone, I
would do it.

I turned off the hot water and wrapped myself in
a soft towel that smelled of fresh flowers. I walked into my new
room with its fancy furniture and unbelievably comfortable bed. I
was lucky to be here, I knew. But that didn't mean I belonged
here.

Not by a long shot.

Proof of this lay on the floor at my feet. I
leaned down and scooped the dirty ritual dress off the tile. As I
held it in my hands, I made a promise to myself. I would never be
that helpless again. I gripped the tattered garment tighter in my
fist.

I was going to learn to be powerful. Somehow, I
was going to find a way to free Aerden and myself. And if I
survived long enough, I would close the Peachville gate and make
sure that the Order never enslaved another demon or witch in the
name of my ancestors.

With passion and determination burning in my
chest, I ripped a strip of bloodied cloth from the hem of the white
dress and wrapped it around my wrist like a ribbon. Then and there,
I vowed to wear it until I either died or won. It would serve as a
constant reminder of my new purpose. My new destiny.

I will never forget.

Despite my renewed passion, there wasn't much I
could do to fight back while I was trapped here in this apartment.
Jackson had made it pretty clear that Mary Anne and I needed to
stay in the suite. He had someone come by each day to stock our
kitchen with exotic fruits and vegetables. There was also some kind
beef jerky stuff for us to chew on, but we were definitely not
eating anything gourmet. Personally, I wondered how they were able
to get fresh fruits and such way down here. Did they have a garden
somewhere?

These were the kinds of things I spent my days
thinking about since there was absolutely nothing to do down here.
We didn't have any magazines or TV or books. Mary Anne spent a lot
of time in her room sleeping, but she was slowly getting her color
back and starting to act more like herself. Still, I spent a lot of
time alone.

And alone time is not exactly something I
needed. I'd gotten enough of that during my prison time at
Shadowford. Of course, being shacked up in an opulent suite of
rooms with my own shower and bed was much more comfortable, so I
knew I shouldn't complain.

Over the course of the first week we spent in
the Underground, I barely saw Jackson at all. He came by a couple
of times to briefly check on Mary Anne, but he never stopped to
really talk to me. Our eyes would meet and I knew there was a lot
left unsaid between us, but neither of us said what we were really
feeling. I missed him like crazy. I just didn't want him to know
that.

"I'm getting cabin fever," I said to Mary Anne
on our eighth day of quarantine. "I don't think I can take this
much longer."

We'd been sitting together on the fur couch
playing a game of twenty questions. After six games, I'd had
enough.