Page 178 of Terror at the Gates

Zahariev’s answer was to tighten his arm around my waist. I fit against him so snugly, and he was so warm, I drifted into a deadening sleep.

***

I made my descent, spiraling down at a violent angle toward the thing that burned but was not fire. Though it was silent, its energy screamed. It was tangled inside me, straining and stretching but unable to change its clustered form.

The final turn brought me to it, a basin of entwined roots filled with a strange liquid. The substance was hard to describe, lead-like but iridescent. The glow was almost too faint to see. Some called it the heart of the earth, some the root of sin, but it was really an ancient kind of magic.It had been here for thousands of years, and in that time, it had become impure, no longer capable of serving its purpose.

This was my mission, to clear it.

I remembered my offering, the skin of the serpent. I took it from my wrist and laid it in the basin, watching as it slowly vanished beneath the surface.

Then I dipped my hands into the liquid and sipped.

I wasn’t aware of the taste or how the substance settled in my stomach, because as soon as it touched my tongue, a blinding light filled my vision. As it cleared, I saw things, flashes of the past, present, and future. There were giants adorned in gold, wreathed in a brilliant aura. It was hypnotizing, and I felt like someone was prodding at my mind, trying to get in, but I resisted and felt the approach of something different, an entity I could only feel, but it spoke and gave knowledge of fire and forging.

Battle raged, and it was bloody.

I blinked, and the light dimmed a little more. The image before me was clearer.

I saw the doors of the Seventh Gate. There was an ancient script carved into the surface. I could not read the words because I did not know the language, but I knew it was a spell. The magic felt like the liquid in the basin and glowed with a violet light. The only exception was where the gate had cracked. That was where the spell was broken.

I trembled as I reached, tracing the rifts with my fingers, but the edges were rough and sliced into my finger. I drew my hand away quickly, but it was too late. I had left my blood behind.

The gate began to tremble, as if someone were pounding on it from the other side. The cracks deepened, and from them,a thick pinkish substance oozed, dripping to the ground.

Somehow, I knew the name.

Melam, it was called.

It was the magic of the Elohim.

The magic of the gods.

Suddenly, I was far more aware of myself than any other time I’d made this journey. I was no longer just a woman on a pilgrimage. I was also Lilith, and I was angry.

My rage felt like magic as I screamed and fell to my knees, fingers burning as I dug into the melam, the demons who had torn my heart in two.

***

My fingers were throbbing when I opened my eyes, lashes wet with tears.

I lifted my hands and examined them front and back, but there were no signs I’d touched the demons, nothing stuck beneath my nails and no burns on my skin. For once, I wished my dream had been real. I’d give anything to tear those fucking demons apart.

I sat up and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. I gulped down the glass of water I’d put on the table last night and felt a little more awake, though my body was ridiculously sore.

Hopefully, I didn’t have to fight anyone tonight, though I would not rule out the possibility, since Saira was going to take me to the Order of the Serpent. I dreaded meeting these women who had an affinity for a kind of magic I didn’t really understand. Would I even be able to defend myself against their spells? Unless one of them was attracted to me, my power was worthless.

I rose and took a hot shower, dressed, and went in searchof Zahariev.

I found him outside, leaning against the stone wall of his porch, smoking. He was alone and dressed in a pair of black sweats. He looked a little pale, but I thought that was because the bruises I’d left on his neck were so dark.

He blew out a stream of smoke just as I joined him.

“Morning, little love,” he said.

I leaned against him, and he kissed the top of my head as he put one arm around me, hand resting on the curve of my ass.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.