Chapter 6

6

Heaven Falling

I blinked at the mercenary.“Did you say demonartifacts?”

Ryder nodded. “Yep.”

“What do they do?”

“They’re for communicating with demons,” he told me. “They belonged to Lady Cassandra.”

Now we were getting somewhere. I knew Decia was related to Ambrose Selpe’s murder and his sons’ abduction.

“A month ago, some of my guys stole the artifacts from her. The next day, Decia was attacked. The vampires blamed us and retaliated on our planet.”

“That’s not a coincidence,” I commented.

“No,” he agreed. “Lady Cassandra wanted the artifacts back. She manipulated this whole thing. When the vampire soldiers arrived in Hope, Lady Cassandra’s men broke off from the main group and snuck into the hideout of the Wayward Bullets. But we’d already moved the demon artifacts to a secret location.”

“And you still have them?”

“Yes.”

I looked at Everett. “Do you trust this guy?”

“Yes.”

Ryder’s eyes darted around. “We have to hurry. The vampire patrols are coming. Come with us, and we’ll bring you to safety.”

We followed him into the woods outside the city. He stopped in front of a portal. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the subtle ripple of magic in the air, like a gentle breeze kissing my skin.

“Where does it go?” I asked.

Ryder’s finger flicked across his watch. “Enter Black Currant Ridge into your portal keys.”

“Black Currant Ridge.” Everett said the words like it was a funeral march.

“Come on, Everett.” Ryder patted him hard on the back. “Aren’t you the least bit eager to see your family again?”

* * *

I’d heardof Black Currant Ridge. It was a vineyard on the small moon of Heaven Falling. I’d never been here before, though. The portal popped us out right at the base of an enormous hill surrounded by a slender strip of beach that curled around the waterfront. The sleeping grapevines were positioned in even lines all the way up the slope, like strings of lights dangling from the branches of an enormous tree. At the highest point on the island, high above the beach, a white-stoned villa of imperial proportions sat atop a system of engineered waterfalls.

Here below, a wooden dock jutted out into the calm water. It was large enough to fit a dozen boats, but there was only one parked there now: a gargantuan yacht with the swirly logo of the Black Currant Ridge wine label painted across the hull.

“Fancy,” I commented.

Everett shot the boat a disgusted look. “It belongs to my parents.”

“It’s cool,” I told him.

He rubbed his head like it hurt. “There are many injustices in the galaxy. One of the biggest is the inability to choose one’s own family.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I wouldn’t have traded my family for anything. There was magic in blood—and in love. That magic bound us together, making us stronger. My gift, the power of Prophecy, was a turbulent one. Having a connection to Father, feeling his love for me, loving him with all my heart and soul, kept me from losing my mind.

“This moon is one vineyard after the other,” Ryder explained as we hiked up the hill. “All owned by Everett’s parents. Black Currant Ridge is their premium label and where they built their castle in the sky.”

Everett made a derisive noise.

“In their youth, Everett’s parents were good mercenaries,” Ryder continued. “But they turned out to be even better entrepreneurs. Within a few short years of buying this moon, the entirety of the vampires’ upper echelon was absolutely enthralled by any wine with the Black Currant Ridge label.”

“And my parents made a fortune overcharging them for it,” Everett added.

“It makes sense,” I said. “The vampires enjoy the finer things in life. They hold grand parties, spending a lot of money to impress their guests.”

“I’d always thought my parents were a bit too comfortable in their arrangement with the vampires,” said Everett. “And sure enough, their moon was the only Rev territory that was spared in last month’s attacks.”

“Are you saying they are in league with the vampires?”

“I’m trying not to think about it. Not that it would be much of a shock. Their top priority has always been making boatloads of money, and I have no reason to believe that will ever change.”

We’d almost reached the top of the hill. I could see the ‘castle’, its white walls shining in the morning light. The sweet scent of baking apples wound around me. Everett’s stomach growled. I glanced at him.

“My mother’s apple tarts. They’re my mortal weakness,” he admitted. “They are so good, it’s almost worth the headache of dealing with my family. And between chitchatting with scavengers and reuniting with old friends, we didn’t have a chance to catch dinner.”

“Why didn’t you eat one of your sandwiches?” I suggested. “You always have a few of them in your pack.”

Ryder roared with laughter as we crossed the front lawn. “Don’t tell me he still makes those longevity sandwiches.”

“Longevity sandwiches?” I asked.

“Yeah, the ones that still taste the same a month later. I think we even once ate one after two months.”

I crinkled my nose.

“It tasted the same as the one-month-old one,” Ryder assured me. “And a good thing too. Because it was either eat those sandwiches or eat one another.”

“I’m sure you made the right choice,” I told him.

“Yeah, Everett’s too scrawny to make a good meal anyway,” Ryder laughed.

We’d made it to the front door. Everett raised his hand to knock, but it swung open before his fist made contact. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a sunshine-yellow apron and flower-patterned house slippers. Her hair was dark, speckled with a few strands of grey. The effect of the softly feminine clothes juxtaposed with the sword she was holding would have been almost comical—if not for the hard look in her eyes. This was a seasoned killer who had seen many battles and felled many foes.

Her expression softened when she saw Everett. “Everett, dear, so nice of you to finally pay us a visit.” Her brown eyes flickered to me. “Who is this?”

“Terra Cross, meet Natalie Black.” Everett’s mouth hardened. “My mother.”

One of the things about being a PI was you had access to the database of all the galaxy’s interesting characters. I’d heard of Natalie Black. Two decades ago, she and her husband Liam had been a top-paid mercenary duo. And they’d not made their money singing lullabies and baking cookies. They’d specialized in high-risk situations that inevitably ended in lots of bloodshed. And they’d been paid very handsomely for it too.

Natalie nodded at Ryder. “You found him fast.”

“He was in the ruins of Decia.”

She chuckled. “Was he now? All right. Hurry inside, all of you.” Her eyes drifted up toward the sky. “You never know who might be watching.”

“Why did you send Ryder looking for me?” Everett asked his mother.

“Because of the demon artifacts, of course.”

“I demand to know what’s going on here,” Everett declared, arms crossed.

“Yes, dear. How very manly of you to make a stand.” His mother smiled, but there was a hard edge to that smile. “Unfortunately, now is not the time for manly stands. However, if you come inside, I promise you may huff and puff all you want. And,” she added, her smile warming. “I’ve baked your favorite apple tarts for you.”

Everett’s stomach rumbled again.

She nodded in approval. “That’s better. This way.”

We followed her inside. The Blacks’ formal sitting room lay just past the front door, but Natalie led us downstairs into a zigzagging series of rooms. The stairs spilled out into a square foyer. We walked over the Black Currant Ridge logo, a swirly dark symbol in the beige marble floor.

To our left stood a wall of ceiling-high wine compartments made of cherrywood. There was a tree-shaped opening in the racks, leading to a cove outfitted with more of the same shelving. Natalie passed through the tree opening, and the rest of us followed.

The next chamber held a dining table large enough to sit twenty on its two long benches, but it was only set for six. A platter of steaming apple tarts sat on the table. Everett reached out to take one, but his mother slapped his hand away.

“Don’t be rude, dear,” she chided him. “Your father isn’t here yet.”

He sighed and whispered to me, “That’s the thing I hate about visiting Black Currant Ridge. In my parents’ eyes, I never aged beyond adolescence.”

I chuckled.

“I didn’t realize Everett would be bringing a friend,” Natalie told me, hastily setting another place at the table.

From the way she was scrutinizing me, she clearly suspected something beyond friendship. Her next comment only confirmed that.

“How long have you known our son, Terra?”

“A bit over half a year,” I replied.

“And how did you meet?”

“A tale for another time, Mom,” Everett said.

“Forgive me.” Natalie smiled at me. “We so rarely hear updates on Everett’s life.” Her smile widened. “And he’s never brought home a girl.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s that, dear?”

He spoke up this time. “Terra is only a friend.”

“A mage friend. How fascinating!” Liam Black exclaimed as he stepped into the room.

The former mercenary’s hair was nearly completely grey, but he was as fit as a man thirty years younger. He strolled over to me, a skip in his step, and merrily shook my hand.

“Come, come,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. “We have much to discuss.”

He led me into a den that looked like the lovechild of a hunting lodge and a professor’s study. Weapons and hunting trophies dominated one wall. Bookcases filled to bursting lined two other walls. The central focus point of the room was a wine barrel ‘table’ set on a blue and silver ornamental carpet. Four enormous sofas were positioned around it. Liam Black sat down. I took the sofa across from him.

“Mages are simply fascinating. I’ve heard there’s a cocktail some of you drink that contains poison as one of the key ingredients?” he asked.

“Phantom’s Bite,” I replied. “It contains Deathweed, a truly toxic substance. I’d highly discourage you from trying it, Mr. Black.”

“Oh, do call me Liam,” he said, beaming at me. His hands danced about in excited strokes. “But if this Deathweed is so toxic, why have mages created a beverage around it?”

“Some of my people favor thrills over sense.”

Like Phantoms. Phantom’s Bite—the name of the drink was no coincidence. Phantoms liked to dance before Death’s door, taunting him with their carousel act of impetuous stunts.

“Can you taste the poison?” Liam asked me.

“Pardon?”

“If I were to slip a drop of it into this wine,” he began, picking up the glass on the table. “Would you be able to taste it?” He held it out to me.

I stared at the glass. “Taste. Smell. Even see.” I took the glass in my hand and lifted it up, swirling it before my face. “Deathweed is not a subtle substance. A single drop will turn most liquids entirely black. And the smell is…”

“Rancid?” Liam offered.

“Zesty. It burns your nostrils.”

“A shame,” he sighed. “I’ll just have to find something more subtle.”

“I hope you don’t have a particular victim in mind, Dad,” Everett said as he sat down beside me.

Liam merely smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

I peered through the wine glass, clinking my fingernail against the lip. “If you don’t want your customers to notice the Mint of Midnight in here, you might want to drop the percentage by half.”

Liam’s smile faded. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The wine in this glass is at least five percent Mint of Midnight. It blends in quite well with the grain of the wine, but I can smell it.”

Everett closed his eyes. “Please tell me Mint of Midnight is a type of wine grape.”

Liam remained mum.

“It’s a narcotic,” I told Everett. “Made from a flower that grows at the southern tip of the western continent on Sunset Tail, one of the mage kingdoms.”

Everett glared at his father. “You’ve been stealing flowers from the mages?”

“Certainly not.” Liam puffed out his chest like an offended peacock. “I bought a crop of those flowers fair and square from a band of mages nineteen years ago.”

“Yeah, that sounds legitimate.” Everett turned to me. “From what I know, mages typically don’t barter off their drugs.”

I nodded. “You are correct.”

“You bought those flowers from a group of rogues,” Everett told his father. “Idiot.”

“Everett,” his mother’s hard voice said in warning as she entered the room with Ryder and his team.

“You two are lucky King River didn’t send his assassins after you.”

“Actually, my father didn’t become the high king of Elitia until after my mother’s death. She was in charge nineteen years ago,” I said.

Everett’s parents gaped at me.

“You’re that Terra Cross. The Princess of Laelia,” said Liam.

“Former princess. My father and I lost our titles two years ago.”

“Yes, I heard of that mess at the Galactic Assembly. The vampires played you and your friend horribly. I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” Natalie said sweetly.

“No, you aren’t,” Everett told her. “You’ve only ever looked out for your bottom line.”

“I realize you have some bottled up aggression toward us, Everett, but there’s no need to be rude in front of our guests,” she replied calmly.

“ ‘Bottled up aggression’? As soon as you had enough money to buy this moon, you and Dad bolted. You never lifted a hand to help the Revs.”

“That’s not true. We hired workers from the other Rev territories,” Liam argued.

“Because they were the closest labor force. If other workers had offered to do the job cheaper, you would have hired them instead.” He pointed at the wine glass. “Do the vampires know, by the way, that you’ve been drugging them for the past two decades?”

“Mint of Midnight is undetectable in a lab analysis,” Liam said.

“I’ll take that as a no. And thank goodness for it. I hardly imagine the vampires would be pleased to learn that.”

“Don’t be so naive, Everett,” his mother said. “The Black Currant Ridge label didn’t become the preferred wine of the vampire aristocracy nearly overnight without us taking a few shortcuts.”

“So I take it all Black Currant Ridge wine is laced with this substance?”

“Yes,” said Natalie. “You could say it’s the distinguishing feature of the Black Currant Ridge label.”

“It gives our wine an extra kick that our customers appreciate,” Liam added. “It’s not harmful.”

Everett looked at me.

“He’s correct. It might make anyone who drinks the wine act a bit silly, but the Mint of Midnight won’t harm them.”

Liam nodded.

“Though it is mildly addictive,” I told Everett.

“Naturally,” he replied. “They’d want to keep their customers coming back for more.”

I shrugged. “Compared to all the convoluted schemes I’ve seen, this one is pretty innocuous actually.”

“You possess an uncommonly unbiased mind, dear. Have you considered trying your hand at business?” Natalie asked me.

“No, it sounds potentially too hazardous to my sanity.”

“That’s the truth,” chuckled Liam.

“But if you want my advice, I suggest you rethink your use of Mint of Midnight.”

Liam perked up. “Do you have an odorless alternative in mind?”

“No, I just meant you should consider making your wine free of narcotics.”

“Why would we do such a thing?” he asked, perplexed.

“Because when the vampires find out, they won’t react kindly.”

“You were right, dear,” Natalie told me with a sad smile. “It seems business is not for you after all.”

She wasn’t wrong. If my goal had been to accumulate vast riches, I’d have to stop taking on all those missing kids cases for so little money. But I just couldn’t turn away the distraught parents. Oh well. Much as I adored pretty things, I’d rather have a clear conscience than a heavy wallet.

“We cannot simply remove the unifying element of all Black Currant Ridge wines,” said Liam.

“They’re all made from grapes, aren’t they?” Everett pointed out.

Natalie gave his shoulder a patronizing pat. “You are a capable fighter, Everett. Why don’t you just stick to that?”

“And why don’t you stick to telling us what you know about Lady Cassandra’s demon artifacts?” he said.

“Ryder gave them to us because we’re the best people to hide them from the vampires,” Liam replied.

“Hide them from the vampires? This is the secret place Ryder stashed them?”

Natalie nodded.

“You didn’t collaborate with the vampires against our people?”

“Everett Benjamin Black!” his mother exclaimed in horror. “How ever could you think we’d sell out our own friends?”

“Your moon was untouched while the other Rev territories were all destroyed. Don’t tell me that doesn’t look suspicious.”

“We survived because the vampires want our wine. No other reason,” Natalie snapped. “You’ve become so jaded. You see conspiracies everywhere. How could you suspect your own parents?”

Liam leaned over and pulled a small black box out from under the sofa. He handed it to Everett. “Take a look.”

Everett lifted the lid. A pile of demon artifacts lay inside. Perfectly smooth and gunmetal grey, each one was the size of a plum. All nine were identical. All nine were eerily beautiful. A low, dark song hummed in my ears. The call of the demons.

The demons had once ruled over almost the entire galaxy, but five hundred years ago, the mages of the era had expelled them. By all accounts, the demons were an oppressive, utterly amoral folk who enjoyed butchering men and women almost as much as they loved conducting perverted medical experiments on children.

Despite their obscene appetite for pain, the demons were not most famous for that. They were known for their technology. Even today, neither the vampires nor the witches had developed anything close to matching the technological sophistication the demons had wielded half a millennium ago. In fact, a whole black market had developed around the salvaging and sale of demon artifacts. This box of nine small balls was easily worth several hundred million credits on the galactic black market.

“What do you think?” Everett asked me.

I shot the box a dirty look. “They’re tainted.”

“Poisoned? Booby-trapped?”

“Demonic,” I hissed.

We mages despised the demons. That hatred saturated our history books. Our songs. It was ingrained in our very cultural being. The demons had tortured and enslaved us centuries ago, but we would never forget it. And we would never forgive.

“Would you like an apple tart, dear?” Natalie asked Everett, showing him the full platter.

He nodded and grabbed one.

“We knew Lady Cassandra was coming for the artifacts. Your parents agreed to protect them,” Ryder told Everett. “Just as they’ve been protecting our possessions and people for years. Even now, thousands of refugees are hiding on this moon.”

Everett blinked.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Liam said. “Our loyalty to our people never wavered.”

Everett’s shoulders slouched. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Natalie smiled at him. “You look like you could use a few more tarts, dear. How many would you like?”

“That depends. How many do you have?”

* * *

The salty oceanair of Seastone sizzled on my tongue. Everett and I walked down the docks, the shimmering waters of the Emerald Sea lapping and lathering beneath us. The clunk of my boots against the wooden planks scared away a quintet of seagulls fighting over a soggy chunk of bread. They scattered in front of us, taking off in all directions.

After our visit to Black Currant Ridge, Everett and I had traveled here via portal. Seastone was a city on a neutral planet. It was also the home of Marin, my go-to tech genius.

The first thing I noticed when we stepped into Marin’s office were the dirty coffee cups piled up on her three massive desks, interspersed with half-finished peanut butter jars and boxes of energy drinks.

Marin’s head poked up from the pile of machine parts she was working on. “Terra!” The grin of her glossy lips lit up her whole face. “It’s so great to see you.”

She rose from her chair, emerging from the chaos. Marin took an eclectic approach in both her work and her clothing. Today, she wore a brown tank top corset and a pair of low-rise jeans with a chunky belt that made Everett nod in approval. Her short auburn hair brushed against her jaw as she moved toward us.

“When is the last time you cleaned up in here, Marin?” Everett asked her.

“I clean up at the end of every day.”

He looked pointedly at the mess.

She shrugged. “That’s all from today. My brain needs a lot of thinking fuel.” Her caramel-brown eyes twinkled. The dark makeup around her eyes really made them pop.

“I have a mystery for you,” I told her.

She grinned. “Do tell.”

“I need to know who really attacked Decia.” I dumped a bag onto her desk. “These are debris samples we collected in the city.” Next, I set down the black box. “And these are demon artifacts that once belonged to Lady Cassandra. We believe she orchestrated the attack on the Revs to get them back.”

Marin poured the contents of the bag into a tray with pure rapture. The demon artifacts went into another tray. She was in her element here.

Marin’s skills were in high demand. She didn’t have any magic as far as I could tell, but she was a technical genius. She’d developed such an impressive reputation for blowing things up that nearly every major corporation and government in the galaxy had tried to hire her. But she remained a free agent, charging those same companies and governments a high hourly rate for her services. I couldn’t afford her normal prices, but she always gave me a substantial discount because I’d saved her life a few times.

A lot of Marin’s contracts involved bombs, but her real passion was airship engineering. She’d confessed to me that there was nothing more fascinating than the steam power used on my former world of Laelia. In fact, that’s how we’d met. Marin had visited Laelia back when my father had been its ruler.

“Interesting,” she commented as she looked at the pieces of rubble.

I waited. Marin would get to it when she was ready.

She tossed aside the empty bag of potato chips lying on her toolbox. Then she grabbed one of her tools and popped open a demon artifact to take a look inside.

“The bombs that destroyed Decia were made from the same technology as these.” She indicated the demon artifacts.

“Demons attacked Decia?” Everett asked.

“No. Well, not exactly,” Marin added quickly. She rolled one of the silver balls between her fingers. “These aren’t demon artifacts. Yes, the tech is consistent with the demons’ tech. Except…”

“Except what?” Everett said impatiently.

“They aren’t old. Certainly not five hundred years old. My guess is they’re a few years old at most.”

Which meant the demons still had a presence in our galaxy.

“These artifacts belonged to Lady Cassandra,” I said. “Artifacts made from the same technology that destroyed Decia.”

“But what does that mean?” Everett asked.

“It means Lady Cassandra is communicating with the demons,” I said.

And it also meant this conspiracy was a whole lot bigger than I’d thought.