Chapter Six

 

The shadows kept him trapped in unconsciousness until warmth flared through him. He jolted awake, blinking his mother’s fuzzy gray head into focus. Morning light filtered in through the curtains.

“I warned you, son,” his mother said.

Morning. Emma. Tristan bolted to his feet and faced his mother. She rose from her seat on her haunches and sat calmly on the couch, ignoring the emotions boiling within him. He could hear Emma’s voice in his head. She was hurt and terrified.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” he charged. “Nothing about keeping the secret of a brother?”

“I hoped you’d never meet him.”

“Mother, you can see the future. You must’ve known!”

“Believe it or not, I’m not omniscient,” she replied brusquely. “I saw there was a chance, but there’s a chance at winning the lotto, too, son.”

Furious, Tristan sat down across from her. “Tell me everything.”

“There’s no time for everything,” she said. “Your Emma needs help, soon.”

“Then tell me what I need to know to face your son.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s your father’s son, not mine. You already know the answer. You must use what you’ve suppressed all these years. You control but a fraction of your dark powers. The rest you’ve buried and must free.”

“You make it sound just that easy.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if I can anymore.”

“Trust me, the darkness will call to you once you’re there. Your problem won’t be tapping into it. Your problem will be coming back from the edge once you do.” The worry in her voice drew his gaze. She suddenly looked haggard and tired. “I brought this upon you, Tristan. I am so very sorry, son. Your father was a demon handler, a breed of black warlock who could control demons. I was too young to know. You and your brother were twins. I saw evil in both of you, but I saw your path was not one of darkness.”

“You chose to keep me,” he said, both pitying and angry at the small woman. “Did you throw my brother to the wolves?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Jeffrey was taken from me by his father before your first birthday. I never saw him again, except when I would peek into your futures.”

Tristan! Emma’s frantic calls were becoming more desperate.

“We’ll detangle our sordid family history later. I need to find Emma,” he said and rose. “He said he wants to go home to Father, and he said he needed Emma for ...” He thought hard. “…life for a life. Human sacrifice?”

His mother was quiet for a moment, features pensive. “Life for a life implies he’s raising the dead. It’s a powerful spell that requires that someone close to the dead must replace him in the ground. It’s an ancient blood spell, though why he thinks such a thing will be enough to open the gateway to Hell, I don’t know.”

“He said the gateway is already open.”

“If it is, it’s only a crack. You and I would both feel it if the gateway to Hell was open. The spell might be strong enough to shove it wide open.”

TRISTAN!

“I have to go, Mother,” he said. He started for the door.

“Wait, son!” she called and followed him to the door. She fished a small object from her pocket and handed it to him. “I made this many years ago. It’s a demon handler’s tool. If you can force the demons into it, toss it into Hell. They can’t come back without being re-summoned.”

The small, transparent crystal ball was hollow. He accepted it and met his mother’s gaze again. Worry creased the lines around her eyes. Softening, Tristan kissed her on the forehead.

“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll be fine,” he said.

“I’ll light a candle for you, son.”

“Better light a few.”

Her gaze flared, a sign he welcomed. Tristan left. Her car was in the parking lot, running with the door open, waiting for him. He sighed. His mother knew more than she would ever say. He sat in the driver’s seat and closed his eyes, loosening the shadows again. For the first time since defeating it many years ago, his darkness was given its freedom. It filled him with warm and cool currents, calmed his mind. Already he could feel it test his will to control it.

He drove fast to Amber’s apartment and went straight to Sissy’s room. The walk-in closet was stacked with boxes along one wall. Tristan closed his eyes and let the darkness guide him to the object tainted with evil. He flung two boxes off one stack and dumped the contents of the third until he spotted the geode. Snatching it, he tore out of the apartment.

Take me to Emma, he ordered his shadows. The darkness complied and lit up the route he needed to follow against the backdrop of his eyelids. He opened his eyes, put the car into gear, and obeyed the instructions to the highway, around the Beltway, toward coastal Maryland. The route grew more familiar as he drove, and with some anger, he realized his twin had virtually lived in his neighborhood.

His mother would’ve had to have known Jeffrey was so close. He gripped the steering wheel hard and tried not to think about her secrets as he drove. His mind was on Emma, who’d gone quiet. She was alive; he could feel her.

He sped past Annapolis and Wooster, even angrier when the shadows directed him to a small town less than twenty highway minutes north of Wooster. He exited where the shadows indicated and drove through rural farmland before coming to the small town near the Chesapeake Bay. His fear grew as he neared. True to his mother’s prediction, he felt the evil and shadows of the fissure to Hell.

Half of him rejoiced at it, strained to be free. He’d never fully defeated the darkness within him. If he wanted to save Emma, he’d have to release it-- and trust he could return. The closer he got, the sweatier his palms became. Soon, he didn’t need the guidance of the shadows; they all but dragged him closer.

Tristan slowed to a stop as he drew near the large Victorian house, struggling with the shadows. If he was to save Emma, he’d have to become what he was. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He’d never met anyone who would drive him to this point, who appeased both sides of him. He loved her family, from sweet Sissy to the cheerful matriarch. They’d accepted him as even his own mother hadn’t.

He owed them-- all of them. If rescuing Emma killed him, his was a sacrifice worth making.

 

* * *

Olivia didn’t return until the single window in the basement showed it was morning. Emma jerked out of a light nap when the door above slammed open. She raised her head.

The black witch wore a wedding dress of pristine white that only made her sallow skin less natural looking. Emma rested her head back, bitterness in her thoughts. They’d both been engaged to Adam. As guilty as she felt for being there when Adam jumped, she didn’t understand why Olivia would want the traitorous man back.

She said nothing, afraid of drawing the crazy woman’s attention. Instead, she watched as Olivia took a wooden bowl to a small desk. The black witch set it down and pulled a lighter from a drawer before walking around the basement to light black and purple candles. She shied away from the fissure in the wall, and Emma looked at it again. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fiery crack or what it meant to lie in front of it in the basement of a black witch intent on revenge.

The sound of someone trotting down the hollow steps to the basement drew Olivia’s gaze, and she looked irritated.

“I’m not ready yet, Jeffrey,” she barked.

“We can’t take a break between the preparation incantation and the start of the ritual. You took too long getting ready.”

“I must be perfect for him. Besides, she’s not going anywhere,” Olivia said, tossing her hand toward Emma.

Emma met Jeffrey’s gaze as he circled the altar to stand near Olivia. Her breath caught. His long hair was tied back and he’d shaven. Aside from his cold, cold eyes, he looked identical to Tristan.

“You look beautiful, Olivia. There’s nothing you can do to tempt him more. He’ll want you more than he ever did.” A slow smile crossed his face. His gaze was on Emma. She twisted her head to stare at the wood beams lining the ceiling.

“You really think so?” the black witch asked.

“He won’t be able to leave your side.”

She turned and gave him a hug before hurrying past him to grab something from a box. Emma wanted to cry again. Leaning against the altar, Jeffrey crossed her vision.

“You still have a chance,” he said for her ears only. “To save yourself, Tristan, your family.”

“No.”

“In about an hour, I’ll ask you again.” He walked around the altar and stood before the fissure. Though his back was to her, she saw the heavy sigh that took the tension from his shoulders.

Tristan was nothing like this creature, but she wondered if he, too, would find some pleasure at the sight of Hell. Would it call to him as it did Jeffrey?

Sudden, sharp pain made her cry out and her body jerk. Olivia stood back with the knife that bore Emma’s blood, eyes glowing in pleasure. Emma’s body convulsed at the pain, and she tried to see the wound through teary eyes. Olivia had stabbed her in the chest on the right-hand side. Olivia raised the knife to plunge it again into her chest.

“Olivia, no!” Emma shouted.

“What’re you doing?” Jeffrey demanded, lunging to grab Olivia’s wrist. “This isn’t what we planned!”

“She must die for him to live!” Olivia argued. She struggled to pull free from his grip. Emma watched, terrified, uncertain if she wanted Olivia to kill her fast and end this or for Jeffrey to stop her in hopes Tristan found her. The burning pain in her chest made her clench her teeth.

“There’s a process,” Jeffrey snarled. He yanked the knife free and punched Olivia hard in the face. The black witch pitched backward and landed on the ground. Jeffrey set the knife down, anger in his eyes, and pulled up Emma’s shirt to see the wound. “Goddamn idiot! If you kill her, you’ll never have Adam back.”

Olivia rose, dazed. “But I thought-- ”

“Shut up and do what I tell you. Now we have to hurry. You’re lucky you didn’t hit a lung.”

Olivia moped like a child disappointed at not receiving a toy. The fire spread through Emma’s body as they hunched over the desk, preparing whatever spell they planned to use to kill her and raise Adam from the dead. Coldness crept into her, and both heat and cool made her sweat and shake.

Jeffrey drew near with the small wooden bowl Olivia had carried to the basement. He used the knife to channel the blood from Emma’s shoulder into the bowl. Olivia watched, crazed excitement on her gaunt features.

“You look like shit,” Emma said at last. They were going to kill her, or she’d bleed out soon. Either way, Tristan wasn’t coming, and she didn’t care anymore. “He’s using you, Olivia. Look in the mirror. He’s destroyed you.”

Jeffrey slapped Emma, and Olivia snickered. The black witch was too far gone for logic. Emma’s eyes watered. She watched them circle her, both chanting in words she couldn’t decipher, and stop at the other side of the altar, closer to Adam. Jeffrey set down the bowl and pricked Olivia’s arm with his knife. Emma watched as he collected the blood in the bowl.

“I’ll wed you now, so he can’t ever leave you again,” he said to her. “Do you wish to spend your eternity with Adam?”

“Yes,” Olivia said breathlessly.

“Do you swear to him your body, heart, and soul?”

“Yes, Jeffrey, yes!”

As they spoke, smoke emerged from the bowl. Shadows withdrew from their corners of the basement and floated toward them. The air of the basement grew thicker, charged, hotter. Emma watched them through her fevered gaze, not sure what was real. Jeffrey asked Olivia more questions. The shadows and smoke mingled, coalesced, and took on the shape of a man. The man floated through the air and lowered itself to Adam’s body.

“Do it, Olivia. Use your magic.” Jeffrey stepped aside. Olivia closed her eyes and faced each direction, speaking in a powerful voice that filled the basement. Emma struggled to understand the words, on the verge of passing out.

The decomposing body beside her stirred. Emma gave a strangled cry of surprise, adrenaline pulling her back into the world. Olivia stopped and turned.

“Adam!”

“Don’t stop, Olivia!” Jeffrey shouted.

“He’s alive!” Olivia exclaimed. Emma looked at the form beside her and cringed. It was moving, but it wasn’t Adam. The body hadn’t returned from its rotting stage, even if it struggled to sit up. The ground rumbled, and all eyes turned to the fissure in the wall as it grew by a foot.

“Finish it, Olivia,” Jeffrey said, gazing on the fissure with the same excitement Olivia’s gaze held for Adam.

Nothing good could come from a gateway to Hell. Emma forced herself to focus despite the fever addling her senses. Adam was sitting now, looking every bit the decomposed corpse she expected after two years in the ground. Olivia began chanting again, and more shadows gathered to enter Adam’s body. Though she didn’t understand the connection between Olivia’s magic and the fissure, they were somehow linked. She tried to think of how to distract Olivia.

The corpse beside her began to change. Adam’s face formed as it had been two years ago. The change spread from his head to his neck, his chest.

“Adam never loved you, Olivia,” Emma said, frantic to stop the spell. “He knew you were as big of a whore as he was!”

The chanting stopped, and the shadows stilled. Adam had enough awareness to face her. His eyes were as she remembered them: warm and brown. She expected to feel some of her previous emotion for him return.

Nothing. If anything, she pitied him as the look of both pain and confusion crossed his features.

“You little bitch!” Olivia snarled, snatching the knife once again. “I’m done with you! Adam is mine!”

Emma tried to hedge away from the plunging knife. It pierced her right shoulder, and she screamed. By the frenzied look on Olivia’s face, the black witch intended to chop her into pieces. Jeffrey snatched her arm and hauled her away, forcing her to face Adam.

“Finish it!”

Emma saw the look on Olivia’s face change from fury to worship. She pried herself free from Jeffrey and stepped to the body of Adam. The half-corpse looked at her, puzzled.

“Tell Olivia how beautiful she is, Adam,” Emma urged.

Recognition crossed his features, and he grimaced, appearing repulsed. Olivia touched her face and stepped closer.

“Adam, it’s me!” she said. “Jeffrey did this. Am I not more beautiful than you remember?”

His response was too quiet and ragged for Emma to hear, but its impact was clear. Confusion and hurt crossed Olivia’s face.

“Olivia-- ” Jeffrey said, pulling her away from Adam.

“What do you mean?” she asked of Adam.

He didn’t answer but twisted his half-repaired neck and looked at Emma. Emma stared back, in too much pain to care about the look that crossed his face. Olivia, however, saw it.

“What did you do, Jeffrey?” she demanded and turned on the half-demon. “He said I was ugly. What did you do?”

“You did this to yourself,” Jeffrey snapped. “Get out of my way.” He pushed her aside to get to Adam. Emma winced as Jeffrey shoved Adam onto his back. Jeffrey met Olivia’s gaze, and a cold smile spread across his face once again. “You want him, Olivia? He’s yours.”

“You said you’d bring him back.” Olivia looked from him to the not-yet-alive Adam.

“And I did. You broke the incantation. Now you’re stuck with that.”

“No. You will bring him back to me, the way he was!”

“You ugly, stupid bitch!” Jeffrey replied. “You think anything I did was for you? Adam was right; you’re hideous. No man in his right mind would choose you over Emma. Even now, Adam lusts for her, or maybe you missed the look he gave her? They’ll be fu-- ”

“She’ll never have him!” Olivia roared, her face black with rage. Her gaze fell to Emma. Emma wriggled in her bonds, reading Olivia’s intentions in her maddened eyes.

“Why would you want him?” Emma said. “In life he was a whore and now ... Look at him, Olivia! You’re lucky he doesn’t want you.” Jeffrey paced to the fissure, and Emma grew colder. She didn’t understand what Jeffrey was doing, but it couldn’t be good.

“You don’t want me.” Olivia’s gaze went to Adam. “It’s her, isn’t it? You’re going to cheat on me, leave me for her again!”

“I loved … her.” Adam’s voice was raspy and took great effort.

Startled, both Emma and Olivia looked at him. Olivia snatched the knife off the table and flung herself on top of the half-corpse, stabbing him and screaming wildly. Emma looked away, disgusted by the splatter of tissue and blood. Olivia stopped and panted, sobbing. Emma waited for Olivia’s fury to turn to her. Instead, she heard a shout of surprise and opened her eyes to see Olivia’s knife buried in Jeffrey’s back.

Jeffrey growled, an inhuman sound, and whipped around. He picked up the woman and flung her against the wall. Emma watched her crumple to the ground and looked again at Adam. Despite Olivia’s attack, the mostly dead man was battered but breathing.

Furious, Jeffrey pulled the knife free from his back and dropped it. His eyes glowed with fire, and he looked around the basement before turning to the fissure, tossing his head back, and bellowing a command. Two shadows emerged from the fissure and took shape in front of him. He nodded toward Emma, and one obediently floated to her. She closed her eyes, panicking again at the thought of being dragged to Hell.

She felt the cold touch of the shadow and cried.

 

* * *

Tristan snatched the shadow demon hovering over Emma and flung it away. The other shadow hovered over Olivia. The fever in his body-- his own shadows trying to escape-- made the world seem to move slowly and his head spin with thoughts.

I’m so close to home. His eyes went to the fissure.

No! He belonged here, with Emma.

Jeffrey whirled, sensing him. Glee was on his twin’s face at the prospect of returning to Hell. Tristan looked around at the basement. Emma was hurt, her life fading. The corpse beside her was unsettling with its human head and mutilated, decomposed body that appeared as if part of it had gone through the blender.

Jeffrey used his shadows to fling Tristan against the wall and keep him there as he had the day before. He retrieved a bloodied knife from the ground near his feet and approached Emma. Tristan drew a deep breath and did what his mother said: he let go of what control he had of the darkness within him. Warm and cool, dark and light … they mixed within him, overwhelming him, until they became shadows that controlled his body.

He launched off the wall where he was pinned and landed on top of Jeffrey. Darkness and fire consumed them, and Tristan surrendered.

 

* * *

Emma heard them fighting. The inhuman sounds were disturbing, but even they weren’t enough to keep her from drifting closer and closer to passing out. A fuzzy face crossed her vision. Repulsed, she tried to move away from Adam but couldn’t. He had rolled to face her and stared at her before grimacing with effort. She twisted her head to see what he was doing. One of his hands was tugging at her bonds. Surprised, she watched as he worked to free her.

“I’m s….sorry,” he stuttered.

“Sorry for what?”

“Everything,” he said. “I’ll make this right.”

After a long moment, her left hand was free. She stretched to her right hand and fumbled with the knot, crying at the pain caused by putting her weight on her injured chest and shoulder. Her hand came free and she took a deep breath before sitting with effort. Her head swam but she focused on her right foot. The sounds of the brothers fighting faded in and out of her soupy thoughts. One foot was free, then the other. Lightheaded, she rose with some difficulty and could think only of escaping the hellhole that was the basement. She pushed herself away from the altar, staggered, and careened into a wall.

Tristan. She stopped, alarm making its way through her unfocused mind.

“Go, now!” he shouted in response.

Her eyes found him and his twin, locked in battle across the basement, shrouded by shadows. A shrill shriek jarred her attention to the altar, and she saw Olivia charge across the basement, knife raised over her head.

“Tristan!” she called.

Olivia dove into the shadows, stabbing at anything that moved. The ground trembled, and the fissure grew by another foot. A blast of heat knocked Emma back. She staggered to her feet and moved toward the three battling, trying to distinguish who was who among the flailing arms.

The decomposed figure that was Adam slid off the table. On stiff legs he lumbered in the direction of the three, tripped, and fell into the midst of the shadows. Another shriek, and Adam emerged from the battle, Olivia clutched in his arms. She clawed at him, screaming madly. Emma watched, horrified, as he staggered to the fissure to Hell. Olivia’s screams took on an eerie quality as she saw their destination. As they neared, demons from within the fissure grabbed both figures and hauled them into its depths.

Emma covered her ears at the sounds of demons devouring their new prey. Her gaze returned to the twins, both of whom lay still. The shadows were gone.

“Tristan!” She made her way across the basement, shaking and avoiding the area between the altar and the fissure.

She dropped to her knees between the two of them, unable to tell them apart with her blurry gaze. One of them reached for what looked like a large black marble.

“Tristan?”

“I told you to go,” the man to her left said. “Leave it and go!”

“Toss it into Hell,” the man to the right countered.

“No, Emma, he’s trying to confuse you. Give it to me, before he gets it!”

“Emma, toss it into Hell.”

Thoroughly confused, she made out the blood pooling around both of them from their own battle and Olivia’s stabbing. They were locked in some sort of silent tug-of-war; both lay prone, their faces furrowed with effort. Her gaze settled on the marble. She grasped it. It felt hot, like Hell.

Throw it into Hell. Tristan’s voice said into her mind. She hesitated before pushing herself up and moving as close as she dared to the fissure. Hands reached out at her, and she stepped back. She threw it.

Good. Now run. I’m going to bring this place down.

“Not without you, Tristan.”

“Run, Emma. I can’t control … them.” His voice was broken and ragged, as if it took great effort for him to say the words. I’m a demon. I deserve Hell.

She heard the last words in her thoughts, his own resignation to dying alongside the other half-demon. Emma dropped beside the man who had been on her right and touched him. His body burned with otherworldly fever.

“You’re coming with me, Tristan,” she said. “Or we’re dying here together. I won’t leave you here.”

For a long moment, she didn’t think he’d respond. He moved at last, pushing himself to his knees. His eyes spun with flames like those beyond the fissure, and she drew back, wondering if she’d guessed wrong. He closed his eyes then opened them again. They went back to normal. He stood and pulled her up. She felt the wave of power ripple through the world around them and shake the house to its foundation.

Tristan lifted her with unexpected strength and hurried to the stairwell as the walls shook around them. He ran through the kitchen and hallway. The house collapsed around them. Emma covered her head, and they burst into the light of early morning. Relieved, she lost what will was keeping her out of unconsciousness. She sagged against him.

“Emma?” His voice was still ragged. “Oh, god, Emma!”

She closed her eyes, exhausted.

I’ll take care of you, he promised.

 

One week later

 

Tristan paced outside of the hospital room. The bossy nurse that forbade a non-relative access had finally been put in place by Amber after a phone call demanding to know why he wasn’t there. He was so nervous, he’d forgotten flowers or a card, despite his mother’s advice to bring both. He ran his fingers through his hair, which now stood on end every time he got excited or anxious.

Some of his newfound powers were irritating. He’d found he couldn’t harness the darkness once he let it go. Instead, it might accept his guidance or it might become passive-aggressive and make his hair stand on end or his shoes melt on his feet.

He had a lot to learn about living in peace with his other half.

“You can come in.” The stern nurse left the room with an irritated look in his direction.

His hands were sweaty, this time not from the demon side of him but from the prospect of seeing her again. Tristan entered the small room and closed the door behind him.

Emma was pale, the earthy color he loved about her faded. She looked him over intently as he approached, no doubt sensing the change in him. His mother had noticed it, too.

Emma had spent two days in the ICU but looked good despite the trauma. At the awkward silence, he drew up a chair and sat beside her.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“A lot. I wondered …” She hesitated. “None of that was a dream, was it?”

“No, Emma. It was all real.”

“Olivia and Adam?”

“Together forever, like she wanted, though she won’t be happy where they are,” he said.

“Adam freed me,” she said, troubled. “What happened to Jeffrey?”

“I’m not sure,” Tristan said. “Hell probably got him, too. It’s what he wanted, though, to return to our father.”

“I saw Amber yesterday. She said she’ll need surgery eventually, but her back wasn’t as bad as they initially thought. Witches, gateway to Hell, demons cutting brake lines … God, what a story we’ll have to tell the grandkids!” she said with a weak laugh. “Can you imagine?”

Grandkids. He tried not to smile at her sentence and felt relieved that she wasn’t driven away by what she saw.

“You’re safe now, Emma, all of you,” he said and took her hand. They were quiet for a moment.

“Now I owe you,” she said.

“No, Emma. If you sleep with me, I want it to be because we’re more than clients,” he replied.

“You sleep with all your clients?”

“No.” He chuckled. She squeezed his hand.

“Mama and Amber are excited for you to come over. Sissy can’t stop talking about you,” she went on. “You fit right in.”

“And you? Are you excited to spend time with me?” he asked, breath stilling. She looked up at him with a faint smile.

“Maybe,” she said. “We had a rocky start. How about we start over?” She offered him her hand. “My name is Emma. I’m recovering from a run-in with a black witch who tried to throw me into Hell because I stole her boyfriend two years ago.”

“Hi, Emma,” he said and shook her hand. “My name is Tristan. I’m a half-demon, and my mother is a white witch who cheats at slot machines. And, I like the idea of telling our grandchildren stories about our adventures.”

“So do I,” she whispered, a warm smile crossing her face.