Page 327

He walked out, leaving Blackbird behind, and continued down the path that his foolish and hopeful self had promised he would one day break away from.

The path of darkness, moving away from the light.

78

Darien stood outside the Chalk Door, staring at its rough surface. In the late afternoon sunlight, the soft white limestone marking the rock took on a yellow hue that shimmered like a spiderweb.

His hands were hanging at his sides, the left palm cut open. The drip of blood striking the lush grass was the only sound in the area, the chirping of birds having faded away the moment he’d thrown the coin into the pool of stagnant water. Darien didn’t feel the sting of the wound as it worked to knit itself together. He felt nothing. Not anymore.

Angelthene’s old familiar sun had come out to bake the city. With the Veil sealed shut, the citizens were well on their way to healing. No more sick people. No more animals falling dead. No more blood rain or frosted windows or iced-over bodies of water.

Today was day two. The second day Loren was trapped in her mind, kept alive by machines. Two days too many.

No more. He refused to sit back and watch while those days turned into weeks. Months. Maybe even longer—who knew.

He refused to do it.

The Chalk Door groaned open. The atmosphere within crackled with fervent curiosity. The Pale Man was eager to see who’d come to visit; whose blood tasted of power, darkness, and rage.

Darien stepped forward and pushed open the door, leaving a smear of red on the stone. The scent of summer wine and sun-warmed fruit settled around him in a sugary haze, but unlike most of the Pale Man’s visitors, he was unaffected by it. It was nothing but an irritation to Darien, an unwanted bit of pollen floating around him.

The Pale Man wasn’t the monster today. He was.

As he stepped inside, he sensed the creature watching him from somewhere deep in its gilded habitat. Flowers of all colors peppered every inch of the walls. Their petals were peeled open wide, the insides emitting a haze of gold flecks that clung to Darien’s skin and hair.

Darien walked deeper. He called upon his magic, using its immense force to keep the door from shutting him inside. That door groaned and shuddered in defiance, but it didn’t close.

Who’s here? The Pale Man’s ancient voice slithered over the walls.

“You know who I am,” Darien replied out loud, his words echoing sharply. “If you comply, I don’t see a need to kill you.”

A rustling came from a bend up ahead, followed by the clack of bones or rocks knocking together.

You? the Pale Man hissed in disbelief. Kill me?

“I can taste your fear,” Darien said, black engulfing his eyes as he read the Pale Man’s aura. It wasn’t one he could easily pinpoint, wasn’t one he could see the shape of behind walls. But he could feel it, taste it, sense it. It was muddy and flickering, and its flavor was of rotting fruit and decay. “Are you going to answer the questions I have? Or shall I tear you limb from limb and make you beg a little first?”

There was a pause. The Pale Man’s aura took on a peculiar note, one that suggested he was impressed by Darien’s boldness. As a creature of near immeasurable power, the Pale Man was seldom presented with a real challenge, so when he was, he considered it a treat. The rare kind worthy of savoring.

Devil of Hell’s Gate, the thing hissed. What would you like to know?

Darien could tell that the creature was merely pretending to cooperate. The Pale Man still pushed at the door with his power, trying to shut it, his hunger a tangible thing that colored his invisible aura with the sharp tones of malice and greed.

“A human girl came to see you a couple weeks ago.” The door tried to shut again, the lurching of the stone causing the sunlight to dance across the walls and floor. Every time it moved, half of Darien’s face was cast in shadow cool as winter’s touch, the other in light warm as Angelthene in high summer. Darien held firm, and his magic did not break as he continued, “You told her something. Something that scared her. I want to know what it was.”

A minute passed before the Pale Man spoke, and despite his resolve, Darien felt a chill skitter across the back of his neck.

The Devil will die, said the monster. When a red sun is high in another sky, the Devil will die.

The chill faded, leaving nothing in its place but icy resolve. After everything that’d happened with Loren and his family…after everything they’d gone through on Kalendae, walking away from that event victorious only to be hurled right into another battle for life weeks later…

Darien found that he would welcome the creature’s omen, would dare it to happen, just so he could feel alive again. It was better than an omen involving Loren and her precious life. Anything but that.

Darien said, “How will I die?”

The Pale Man stopped fighting, stopped making the door shudder, as if finally accepting that today’s visitor wasn’t prey.

By choice. The Pale Man took delight in his words, an evil smile filling every one to bursting. You must die, Devil of Hell’s Gate. You must die, so that she can live.