“Yeah. Attention span of a gnat. ADD.”
Aeron sighed heavily. “It’s a numeric cipher for ‘hell.’ Before it came to mean ‘infernal damnation,’ it was simply a word that meant ‘hidden behind a veil’ or ‘to keep hidden.’ Even the term ‘hell-mouth’ is an ancient one that was used by my people long before missionaries came to our shores.”
Nashira nodded. “Whenever it turns 11:34 over a hell-mouth or near a hell-gate, the veil thins enough for something to punch its way through from one realm to another. There’s always a chance something can come through. It’s why you saw so many zeitj?gers earlier. The atmospheric unrest put all the guardians on notice that the portals were about to be accessed.”
Aeron crossed his arms over his chest. “Even I knew from here that Noir was trying to cross from Azmodea into the human realm.”
“Did he make it?”
Nashira hesitated before she answered his question. “I’m sorry, Nick. They weren’t able to stop him.”
Fear and dread tangled inside him. If Noir had made it through, then he’d gone after those nearest and dearest to Nick. And most likely, Livia was hoovering up to Noir, right now.
Playtime was over.
Ignoring the pain, Nick rose slowly to his feet. “What do I need to do to get us through?”
Aeron snorted disdainfully. “You’re the Malachai. Transform to your body. Conjure a portal. Punch through it.”
Gah, he made it sound so easy.
Nashira put her hand on Nick’s shoulder. “But don’t be hatin’ when you do it.”
Nick laughed at her reminder. “Where are all the riddles and rhymes you were so quick to torment me with in the past?”
She smiled at him. “I’m no longer locked in the necravitacon. My desire to make you crazy with them is gone now.” She rose up to kiss his cheek. “My only desire is to help you and to thank you for my freedom.”
“You’re welcome.” Nick rolled his shoulders and shook his hands to loosen them. “All right. Let’s try this.”
Aeron moved to stand by his side so that he could help guide him through it.
With a deep breath for courage, Nick tapped his powers and let the strength of the Malachai run through him.
For a moment, as he remembered what Livia had done, he felt himself slipping toward the beastly side of it and losing control.
But he pulled himself back by sheer force of will. Livia wasn’t worth the cost of losing his future. Of losing Nekoda and his mother. They were the prize.
Hoping Aeron and Nashira weren’t setting him up like Livia had, Nick did what they said and punched a hole from Agonia back into the mortal realm he called home.
For a full terrifying minute – the longest one of his life – he didn’t think he could do it. But after a few more nerve-wrecking seconds, he finally made the hole through.
He allowed Nashira and Aeron to cross over first, and then he followed through and closed the portal.
“Where are we?” Aeron asked in a low whisper as he glanced about at the bed and dresser.
“My room.” Nick kept his tone barely audible. Just in case.
Using his telepathy, he reached out to Kody to see where everyone was.
She didn’t respond.
His panic set in. They should all be here, in his house, where it was safe and protected.
Why weren’t they here?
Nashira touched his arm to anchor him. “Breathe, Malachai. Don’t panic. Don’t get angry. Not until you have more information.”
Grateful for her presence, he closed his eyes and used his powers to search the condo.
It was empty.
Rage tore him apart as he saw the blood and fighting in afterimages that had been recorded by Menyara’s spells. Noir had been here and he’d attacked them all.
“Nick… Calm yourself.”
Honestly? He didn’t want to be calm. He wanted Noir’s throat. The Malachai in him was a fierce, demanding beast.
And right now, it was hungry. Bloodthirsty. It craved the throats and hearts of his enemies.
Of anyone who’d ever done him harm.
His breathing ragged as he struggled for control, he opened his eyes to stare at Aeron. “Is this how the world looks to you, too?”
“Do you know what my name means?”
Nick shook his head.
“Carnage and slaughter. Back in the time when the Dagda and the Mórrígan ruled, there were altars set for me throughout the kingdoms where we were worshiped. The day before a battle was to be fought, three strong warriors – two men and one female, in the prime of their youth – would be sacrificed to me to ensure me favor for their cause and their victory.”
“And I should take what from all that?”
“That it was never the blood of me own that I hungered for. It’s the throats of me enemies I crave. Their blood that nourishes me hunger and makes me want to feel it washing over me skin and bones, until I’m drunk from it. So, aye. I understand what you see and feel. That need you have to rip them apart and relish every cry they scream for mercy and death.”