Chapter 41

Chapter

Forty-One

Ana

I descend the first two dozen or so rungs of the ladder, moving so rapidly I fear I'll lose hold, but when I feel the vibrations of Phil following, I slow slightly, keeping pace with him as we go down. I can no longer see any hint of the hole we came through. I can't even see Phil's silhouette above me. The metal rungs are cold against my hands, but I can't see them either. It's like I've been swallowed by a black hole.

I will my night vision to click in, something that should occur automatically, but nothing happens. Clearly vampiric night vision doesn't work in this long tunnel that's darker than anything I've ever experienced before.

I sense a second set of footfalls on the ladder. Grateful that Crusher is following, I call up. "Are you both okay?" But I can't hear my own voice, nor any response.

I can't sense my heartbeat anymore, can't hear my blood flowing through my veins, and I realize that, although I'm still moving down, I can barely sense the pressure of my hands and feet on the rungs. The metal no longer feels cold, almost as if it's perfectly matching my body temperature.

No. It's more like I've lost my sense of touch along with my sight and hearing.

I descend for what feels like thousands of rungs, wishing I'd counted to know how far to climb on the way back up, and then realize I am no longer descending. I'm climbing.

I didn't change direction. I'm on the same ladder. But I'm definitely climbing now, with Phil and Crusher still behind me.

I've counted two thousand and thirty-one rungs since I realized I was climbing, and I spot a hint of dull light above me. It must be nighttime in this other realm, just like in ours. The quality of the dim light seems strange. Flat.

Moving faster, I count another three hundred and forty-two rungs.

Reaching the top, I quickly climb out and stand. Then I stagger back from the hole, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing and hearing, what and feeling, but before I get oriented, Phil emerges, Crusher right behind him.

Crusher plants himself between us, facing Phil, and clearly bracing to protect me. His huge muscles are prepared to fight, to do anything to keep Phil—the demon—from hurting me.

"It's okay," Phil says calmly, and I shift to see him past Crusher's bulk. "The demon doesn't need Ana in this realm. This is his home. He's happy to be here. He's set me free."

Phil smiles broadly and shifts his gaze from Crusher's to mine. The light in his eyes is strange. His irises turn black for a moment, but it happens so quickly I wonder if it was an illusion, or some affect from our strange environment.

Crusher backs slowly toward me, and then gathers me into his arms, wrapping me up so tightly I can barely move. "Keep away from her, demon!"

Phil raises his hands as if in surrender. "Calm the fuck down, brother. No demon here." He points toward his head. "Not anymore."

Relief floods inside me. Phil seems back to his old self to me, but Crusher doesn't drop his guard—not at all. If anything, his hold on me tightens.

Phil glances around, and I do the same. Crusher's high alert mode is enough for us both.

The ground is grey and barren, like no rain has fallen in years, like there's no sign of life at all, and casting my gaze wider, I can't see any trees or vegetation, just a vast open plain, which looks like it's been scraped and flattened, cleared of all living things. Or burned?

About twenty feet away, something slithers along the ground, then disappears. Are my eyes playing tricks on me?

"Snake," Crusher says as he holds me, and I'm glad to know that he saw it too. "We're on some kind of plateau."

Studying our surroundings more carefully, I realize that he's right. In the flat light, I didn't notice at first, but it's like we're on a sliced off mountaintop. The edge of the platform is about a hundred yards ahead, and it's about half that distance to each of our sides.

"I'm going to check out the edge." Phil steps forward.

I tug on the steel trap of Crusher's arms. "I want to look too."

He grunts. "We should stay close to the portal."

"It's not far." I turn my neck trying to see behind me. "We'll come straight back."

Crusher seems to have forgotten that I need to find a sword. Or maybe he's starting to believe that the demon's left Phil.

Crusher carries me to the closest edge of the plateau, and we look down. I gasp. It's a sheer drop, a few thousand feet to the bottom, and straight, almost like whatever plateau we're on was carved out of a mountain by sharp knives.

The landscape down below isn't as flat as up here, but also seems barren with no signs of life. Not that it's easy to tell from this height or with this lighting.

Above us, the sky is dark, but it's nothing like the night sky in our world. There's no moon or stars perceptible through the dense clouds—if they are clouds. The light is dim and gray, but I can't tell what's casting it. There's no hint of a sun or any star, or any sense of what direction the light is coming from.

Not only does the light seem gray, everything is gray, almost like we've landed in a black and white photograph, or an old movie. I glance at my clothes, at Phil's, and then at Crusher's. The lighting has cast us all in shades of gray. None of our clothes were brightly colored before the portal, but now they're decidedly dull. So is our skin.

My eyes felt so strange when I emerged from the darkness, and I didn't process the full effect right away.

Above, the clouds are not only dense and low, but they're oddly shaped and shifting, seeming to move in many directions at once. And yet there's no hint of wind down here on the ground. I'm not having difficulty breathing, but the air is stagnant, like we're not outside, but trapped in a small, airtight chamber with no ventilation.

I look back up to the clouds. While they're moving in different directions, it's not like they're swirling in different layers of atmosphere. There isn't any discernible pattern. It's almost as if the clouds are sentient beings, moving independently of each other and the environment.

"What is this place?" Crusher says.

Pushing on his arms, I coax him to set me down. I try to push away from his hold so I can turn to take in everything. But instead, he turns us both, and we survey our strange environment, while I remain housed in his arms.

Far, far off to one side, it's utter darkness, almost like there's a black curtain on the horizon that extends all the way to the heavens and as far to each side as my eyes can see. The black barrier is still, less like a curtain and more like a massive wall of onyx or obsidian. But no light shines off it. It's as if there's no light in this world to create reflections. Even the strange clouds don't venture close to the blackness.

To our other side, and closer—at least I think it's closer—another barrier hangs in the air. This second barrier is also dark, but instead of being still, it's rippling as if there is wind or atmosphere near it, contrasting the utter stillness around me. Fabric or veil are the only words I can think of to explain what I'm seeing, although the veil extends so high and so wide that it's impossible to imagine there's anything supporting it.

And as I focus more closely, I realize that what I perceived as ripples, might be something moving in front of it. Low clouds?

Phil groans, and I return my attention toward him. Not far away, he's holding his head and moaning.

"Phil!" I tug against Crusher's hold. "Are you okay?"

"He's not," Crusher says softly. "You and I need to go back through the portal. Now." Crusher carries me toward the hole in the ground.

"No!" I struggle against him.

But then Phil's hands drop off his head, and he walks toward us. "Fuck. Sorry about that. The demon gave it one last college try." He winks then shakes his head. "Idiot. Fucker's gone now."

"Don't believe him," Crusher says.

I twist in his hold.

"Ember told me you'd lie," Crusher says to Phil. "The witches told us that the demon would have more control of you on this side of the portal, not less."

"Ember doesn't know shit." Phil makes a face as if what Crusher's saying is crazy. "Only I know what's going on in here —" he taps his head "—and in here." He slaps his chest. Then he looks directly into my eyes, and I struggle to read what I see.

His words seem so much like Phil, and every part of my being wants him to be his old self again, wants him to be the man I love, but something is off. Something about him isn't quite right, and it scares me. Scares me even more than when he tried to attack me.

"What the fuck is that?" Crusher says, drawing my attention.

The closer barrier parts, and a blinding flash of light shines out of the gap. I squint against the intense brightness that, for several seconds, illuminates the world down below. The landscape isn't as deserted as I first thought. Below us, creatures lumber around, sluggishly moving as if dying—or… No, as if they're waking up!

Crusher nudges me toward the portal, but somehow, I fight him.

I'm not leaving here. Not until I'm certain the demon has left Phil, and I'm sure my love is in the portal too.

Something moves through the break in the barrier. Then the gap closes, turning off all the light.

Whatever came through the gap is huge, and it's moving rapidly toward us.

Ana

"What is that?" I say, my words barely audible.

Whatever it is—some kind of oddly-shaped plane?—it's massive and flying toward us, and it seems even more massive the closer it gets.

"Through the portal," Crusher says. "Now."

"No." I turn toward him. "Don't be a coward."

He flinches, but I don't have time to feel bad about hitting below the belt. Challenging Crusher's courage was uncalled for, especially since I'm still protected by his superior size and strength.

Phil…Phil looks terrified. He turns around, as if looking for a place to hide on this flat surface.

And in the few moments I spent glancing at Crusher and Phil, the flying object has come closer.

Although the light source is gone, everything cast in dullness again, the aircraft is bright and beautiful in contrast.

"Is it alive ?" Crusher mumbles, and I realize that he's right.

Whatever this is, its wings would span a football field, and its body is even longer. It moves like a serpent, but also like an eagle. At times its massive wings flap, but the creature also soars. And its long body undulates as if it's an eel moving through water. All I can do is stare. If this thing means to kill us, we have no defenses, so I see no point in taking up a combative position. And there's nowhere to run.

It's less than a mile away now. Its eyes shine with near blinding light, and its body is covered in scales or armor, the sections made up of multiple metallic tones, like an oil slick—but more beautiful. Silver, teal, magenta, aqua. Each time the creature moves, it changes color, and as it approaches, a long stream of fire erupts from its mouth, leaving a bright streak of flames along the ground beneath its path.

As the fire illuminates the landscape, horrid screams rise. Whatever is down there, whatever awoke, is alive—or was. Lumbering creatures whose shapes I don't recognize, move away from the fire and rage toward the sky.

The flying creature resembles some dragons of folklore, and it's most definitely heading toward us, so I return my focus there, fighting to contain the trembling that's threatening to erupt from inside me.

Adventure. I wanted some adventure in my life. I wanted to see new things. Even if I die today, I will have accomplished that.

The portal is our only means of escape. I glance to the side to make sure it's still there and open. But Crusher makes no effort to move us, and Phil seems paralyzed, crouched and turned away from the approaching creature.

As it gets near, the dragon slows, and hot wind from its beating wings scalds my face as it hovers near the edge of the plateau. Its eyes are multi-faceted, like diamonds. They seem to emit light, and on its chest, there's a crest of some kind. The symbol looks like part of the dragon's skin, and I'm no longer sure whether the creature's beautiful exterior is armor, or scales.

But watching it move makes me think scales. From this close, above and to the front of us, I see its muscles rippling as its wings move to keep it in place. Both its legs sport claws at least ten feet long, and the ends of its wings have protrusions like spikes.

"Who dares bring this creature here!" A female voice fills the air.

Confusion floods inside me. Not only did I not expect this dragon to speak, but certainly not in that voice, or in a language I could understand.

Then the dragon's angle shifts, and I spot its rider.

A woman, dressed in shiny, royal blue leather rides the beast, and the breast of her jacket bears the same crest as the dragon. Her skin is luminous, almost silver. Her eyes are a vivid bright green, her lips ruby red, and a series of long, pink braids stream behind her. Like her mount, this woman defies the dull light here—as if she brought her own illumination. The rest of this world remains in black and white, but this pair are in technicolor. The sight is beautiful. I'm in utter awe.

The rider directs her attention toward Phil. The dragon flaps its wings, it flexes its talons and then they gouge deep lines in the rock as it lands. The rider glares at Phil, and then, to my horror, the dragon's wing knocks Phil off his feet. Stepping to the side, the dragon pins Phil to the ground, its long talons forming a cage around much of his body.

"Don't hurt him!" I shout, and the rider turns toward me.

"As you can clearly see, we have not."

My heart is beating out of my chest. So is Crusher's behind me.

He nudges me toward the opened portal. "We need to go. Now!"

"Which one of you is the leader!" she yells. "Where have you come from! And why? Answer, or you will feel Zogar's burn."

Her expression changes. Her green eyes seem to flash white for a moment, and then the dragon turns its head. Another long stream of fire erupts, scorching the edge of the plateau, and the fire continues to burn like lit gasoline. The pair move so seamlessly together, it's almost like she's part of the beast.

I push on Crusher's arms. "Let me reason with her. Please."

Crusher's eyes are wide, but instead of fear, I see admiration, and he loosens his hold.

I step forward. "I am Princess Anastasia, daughter to the one true vampire king and Ambassador for the Vampiric Council."

"They call me Rosomon," the rider says, "and this is Zogar." She strokes the dragon's body, and it visibly shudders in pleasure. Then it bends its legs and folds one of its wings under its body, bringing Rosomon closer toward us. The movement's so fluid I question my eyes.

And then, pressing down against her saddle's stirrups, she straightens her legs to rise from the dragon's back.

I gasp.

Blinking, I try to talk myself out of what I just saw.

The section of the dragon where she was seated isn't an external saddle, but part of the dragon. And the ridge her foot pressed on isn't a stirrup. All of it appears to be part of the dragon's body. But that's not the part that made me gasp.

Several pommels protrude from the dragon's neck and back, like blunt-tipped spikes, spikes which become decidedly more pointed as they extend down the dragon's body and onto its tail. The spikes near its tail are longer and sharper than swords. They glint like platinum, even in the low, flat light.

Spikes on a dragon would not be shocking on its own. What is shocking, is that I swear when Rosomon rose from the beast, one of the rounded protuberances was lodged inside her.

And I can't help but stare at the phallic shape, as she slides down the dragon's wing to land on the rock. Not only does the knob look very phallic, it seems to be pulsing and glistening in the odd light.

"You are not of this world." Rosomon strides toward me, and she points toward Phil. "But he is."

Phil struggles under the dragon's claw. His hands on the two talons that run across his body, just below his shoulders.

"No." I step forward. " None of us are of this world. His mind was captured by something that belongs here. But he doesn't."

"Nevertheless, he must be killed." Drawing a long sword from a hilt at her side, Rosomon strides toward Phil. She plants her foot on one of the dragon's huge claws and raises the weapon as if she plans to behead my love.

"No!" Racing toward her, I land on my knees, pleading with her. "I can slay the demon and save the man. Only I can."

Her sword stays raised, but looking into my eyes, she tips her head to the side. "You love this man. The one housing the demon."

"With all my heart."

She drops her sword to her side. "Then I will give you the honor of slaying him."

I bow, pressing my forehead to the rock for a moment. "Thank you."

Her fingers lift my chin. "Rise to your feet."

I do as she says.

"You call yourself a princess, and yet you knelt and bowed before me."

Straightening my posture, I look into her eyes, the most unusual shade of green—almost neon. Like no eyes I've ever seen. And her hair, tied back in long braids is a shimmering mix of pinks. Everything about this woman is extraordinary, not to mention the dragon she rode in on.

"Neither the circumstances of my birth, nor my title," I tell her, "should dictate my merit or my right to place myself above others. And in this particular negotiation, certainly it is you who holds all the power."

She smiles. "You are wise, Anastasia. I like you."

"I like you too." I nod. "But I'll like you even more, when your dragon releases my love."

I glance toward Phil. He's struggling, his head trapped between two of the dragon's talons, almost like the dragon has him between his extended index and middle fingers. Phil's eyes are once again dark and unrecognizable, and that sight pokes holes in the bucket of hope I've been carrying.

"Would you like to share a few tender words with your love, before slaying him?" Rosomon asks, and the weight of what I've promised to do sinks down on me. I promised not only Rosomon, but Ember too. And I feel as if a mountain has landed on top of me.

Crusher arrives at my side, putting his arm around me and propping me up.

"Are you Princess Anastasia's servant?" she asks.

I shake my head no, at the same time Crusher answers, "Yes. I am her most loyal servant. I would give my life for this woman."

"Good," Rosomon says. "Anastasia needs your support right now." She turns toward me. "Kill him, or I will." She glances toward the wall of blackness. "Do it quickly. More of his kind will soon arrive."

She points the hilt of her sword toward me, offering it. "Kill him. Now!"

"I…I don't have the right weapon." I shake my head, despair flooding me. We have no time to find the sword. "Can you help me find it? I need a sword that looks like this." Hand trembling, I remove the dagger from under my sleeve.

The dagger transforms in my hand, turning into a long, shining sword. The sword is in technicolor, like Rosomon and Zogar. The gems in its hilt are sparkling, and its blade is gleaming, catching light from an unknown source.

"Hurry," Rosomon says. "Zogar will hold him down as you slay him." Zogar seems to be sleeping. His faceted eyes are no longer like diamonds but obsidian. Black and hard like stone. And Phil's head remains sandwiched between two of his long talons.

The sword is heavy in my arm, and I look into Phil's eyes. A glimpse of the man I love flashes for the first time since the dragon and rider arrived.

"It's okay, my love," Phil says. "Even if I don't survive, this is what I want."

His head jerks, his expression changes, and he looks into my eyes with alarm. "Don't listen to the demon!" Phil pleads. "Killing the demon will kill me too. Please, Ana. Don't do it. I love you."

The contradictory pleas come back-to-back, and both seem to have come from Phil, versus the demon. Both pleas tear at my heart. I'm so confused.

Crusher steps up beside me. "Ana, we can't trust anything he says. Focus on the plan. I know it's hard, but you need to do this."

"Hurry," Rosomon shouts. Rushing past me, she climbs the dragon's leg, jumps onto his wing, and then his back, and then I hear her moan as she settles onto the saddle.

The dragon's head rises, as if he just woke, and his eyes again turn into diamonds. She leans forward, stroking his neck for a moment, and when her gaze returns to mine, it's glassy, her pupil's widened, adding to my suspicion that part of this beast is inside her.

"There's no time to waste. She points toward the black wall. "They are coming."

"Don't you dare kill me, little girl," Phil growls, drawing back my attention. His eyes have turned black. Terrifying pits of darkness. "Kill me and a million more of my kind will descend upon you seeking vengeance. You think you've felt pain, little girl? You think the things I did to you in your world made you suffer? You have no idea what a legion of my kind can do to you." A horrific grin spreads on his face, and he licks his lips.

"Phil." Crouching, I cup his face, desperate to truly see him, to talk to the man I love one last time.

"I can't wait to watch, as they tear you apart," he says cruelly. "Payback for the torture I went through having to fuck you."

I gasp.

"You think I took any pleasure in your cunt, little girl?" He snarls at me. "Fucking you was like fucking a toy. You gave me no pleasure. You mean nothing to me. Nothing . I only needed you because that lecherous fool Rasputin chose you to mark. I hated being around you. But now I am home, my torture will end."

"That's the demon talking." Crusher lifts me to my feet. "Phil loved you. But to save our world, to save him too, you must kill him." Crusher turns to the side. "Kill him now!"

I turn to where he's looking.

A sliver has opened in the black wall, and red light pours out—a light that's thick, as if the air behind the wall has texture. And then something even more terrifying appears in the slice of red light. A stream of black dots swarms through the slit, the individual dots growing in size and number as they streak toward us, like angry wasps.

"Now," Rosomon shouts. The dragon's talons shift, scraping the stone as if preparing to take flight. "Kill him now, or Zogar's talons will tear off your love's head."