Page 55

The gardens are chaos as Jaylie and her team are the last to enter.

She spots a trio of Alora’s guardsmen hacking ineffectually against a gray Donati statue wielding a lance.

Farther down, a blond dwarf with two swords strapped to her back wrestles with a grinning stone Donati in the shallow waters of a fountain while a bald halfling fires arrows from the hedges.

Jaylie’s head snaps to the side when she hears Kain’s familiar roar again, and she grins to herself as a statue shatters under his axe.

In the far distance, she hears and then feels the rumble of massive magical explosions. Shira’s doing, she expects.

Perhaps they do stand a chance.

Jaylie and her group back up into a small clearing where all of the hedges have been carefully trimmed to resemble an array of magical creatures: a gryphon, a unicorn, and a particularly thorny and large dragon.

As Loren and a few of the students launch spears of ice and fire at any guardsmen who try to approach, Alora weaves a complicated spell that immediately summons three seething fire elementals.

Her scales glow as she casts, and she laughs when Jaylie asks where she learned such a spell.

“Spellbooks are for fucking nerds,” she brags. “I was born with my magic.”

Eventually, word spreads of the support group’s location, and bloodied warriors limp toward them in search of healing and sanctuary.

Jaylie aids as many as she can, though she’s careful to keep a few emergency spells on hand.

As she tends to a wound on a tiefling’s shoulder, she sees a ripple of shadow out of the corner of her eye.

“There!” she shrieks, pointing ahead.

Donati—not stone, but flesh and blood—materializes out of the shadows to slit the throat of a poor Clare soldier thirty paces away. The woman collapses backward, and Donati shoots a vicious grin in Jaylie’s direction. Immediately, he disappears again.

Within heartbeats, he blinks back into existence, this time closer. Shoving his extended palm into the chest of a half-orc wielding a dagger, he sends pulses of dark energy into the man’s body until he collapses, dead, into the dirt.

And again, shadows take him.

“On guard, everyone!” Jaylie shouts, a note of panic in her voice. “He’s close.”

Alora’s jaw clenches, and Loren summons motes of fire to his palms.

An awful quiet settles around Jaylie as each of her companions holds their breath. But it’s Alora’s pained gasp that breaks the silence.

“Hello, my dear,” Donati purrs, materializing behind her.

Jaylie turns in a rush, but she’s too late.

Donati has the tip of a serrated dagger pressed to Alora’s throat, his hand wrapped tightly around her forearm where he’s already sliced through her skin from wrist to elbow.

Blood pools around his fist where he digs his thumb into the cut.

It’s not enough to kill her, Jaylie realizes with relief.

But he doesn’t need her dead.

He just needs her blood.

A laugh starts low in the back of the dark wizard’s throat. It’s a terrible, grating sound, and it grows louder with each moment that passes. The blood coating Donati’s palms glows a deep red as he claps his hands together and begins to chant in a language Jaylie does not recognize.

Suddenly, the rosebuds serving as eyes for the dragon-hedge catch fire. Every leaf rustles at once and then, as if in a great wind, lies flat against the hedge’s form.

Just like scales.

Roots creak and branches screech as the dragon begins to move.

The thorns elongate into talons just as tiny branches weave together to form the webbing between its wings.

As the blood spilling from Donati’s palms flows into the earth, the dragon becomes more real, shedding the fragile leaves in favor of hard green scales.

As it lifts its head to the sky, it lets out a roar that pierces through the garden.

“No.”

Jaylie does not recognize the voice—but she sees Loren’s lips move.

Loren’s green eyes disappear as flames pour out from the sockets. Fire wreaths his wrists and hands as he raises his arms to the clouds, his lute forgotten where it hangs from his shoulder. As he tilts his head backward, a column of fire erupts from his mouth, and he screams into the sky.

Horrified, Jaylie watches as he summons an inferno between his blackened palms. What starts as the size of a marble soon grows, swelling until it’s a meteoric sphere twice the size of the dragon crouching ahead.

Just as Donati and the monster leap forward, Loren hurls the fireball in a great, burning arc.

Jaylie’s world turns red. The last thing she hears is Donati’s cry before she blacks out.

“We did it. Gods, we actually did it.”

Marlana?

No. Morgana squeezes Jaylie’s hand as the priestess blinks back to life.

She lies on the edge of a crater. Steam rises from the gaping hole in the earth, spiraling upward. The hole is so deep that even as Jaylie arches her neck, she can’t see the bottom of it.

“Donati’s dead?” Jaylie asks. Her voice cracks, dry in the heat.

“No, even better. Loren wounded him—gravely—but Shira captured him in the end. She’s taking him to the Assembly now. They’ll deal with him there.” Morgana barks out a low laugh. “Painfully, I hope.”

“Where’s Loren?”

“I’m right here, Jay.” Good. His voice is normal again. The bard leans forward, and Jaylie can see his sparkling green eyes upside down from where he kneels above her, her head in his lap.

“Your eyes were on fire,” she croaks.

“Were they?” he says mildly, his smile crooked. “I don’t remember.”

Jaylie casts a gaze at her surroundings. Within her direct vicinity, trees and roses and shrubs still burn. But farther than that, the garden looks intact—as do most of her allies, which she is grateful for. She doesn’t have the energy to heal even if she wanted to.

“Can you help me up?” she asks.

Together, Loren and Morgana hook their arms underneath each of Jaylie’s and ease her into a seated position. From here, she can see the fire still burning at the crater’s center. It seems to be growing larger, but Jaylie can’t tell what might be fueling it.

To her left, she hears Kain’s sigh. He is painted in blood. He crouches with his forearms on his knees, tail flicking back and forth in agitation. “It’s time,” he rumbles, turning to Loren.

Pain flashes across Loren’s elegant features. “No.” His voice is so small. “Can’t I have a few more hours?”

Kain shakes his head, his horns cutting through the air. His expression is severe.

Frantically, Jaylie looks between them. “Time for what?”

Neither man answers her. But from the core of the crater, a voice she hoped to never hear again calls out.

“ Your bard must like you very much, little priestess. ”

Suddenly, the crater glows with fire. Morgana whips out her daggers, but Kain remains unmoved.

When the face forms, it’s much worse than the last time Jaylie saw it, full of cruelty, intrigue, and victory.

This time, it stretches across the whole of the pit, a massive grin cutting through the crater’s center.

“Maglorbizel,” Jaylie breathes. Kain’s father. One of the most powerful devils in Hell.

“ He made a deal with me. Now that your little quest is complete, it is time for him to pay his price. ”

Jaylie’s gaze swings to Loren. “A deal to kill Donati?” She remembers the way the flames crawled along his arms. The way they consumed him.

“ No, my dear. He made a deal for you.”

Jaylie’s voice wavers. “What are you talking about?”

“ If it were not for me, you would still be dead. He bargained for your life. ” Clouds of smoke rise from the crater as Maglorbizel bellows out a dark laugh.

“Loren, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

Even as his lips tremble, Loren’s jaw is set with determination. “I would do it again, given the choice.”

Gently, Jaylie reaches up to wipe away a smear of ash on the center of Loren’s forehead. That’s when she sees it.

Underneath the grime, an infernal rune glows bright.

Her voice breaks. “What did you trade?”

“Nothing so bad, love,” Loren says gently. He reaches to run his knuckles across the line of her jaw. “A year and a day of service. In the span of my lifetime, it’s less than the blink of an eye.”

An awful chuckle boils from the crater. “ And yet you do not even know what demands I might yet make, ” he says with a cackle.

Feeling dumb and romantic and resolved all at once, Jaylie shakes her head viciously. “I’ll go with you.”

Loren blanches. “Jay, I would never ask—”

“You didn’t ask,” she cuts him off. “This is my decision. I would go to Hell for you, Loren.” She clears her throat delicately, then laughs. It comes out a little breathless. “Literally.”

The color drains from Loren’s face. “Jay, no. This was my bargain to make, and I’ll gladly pay the price, but you—”

“I’ll go, too,” Kain says darkly.

“ Finally coming home to visit your father, then? ” the crater hisses.

Morgana’s dark eyes are wide as her gaze jumps among her party members. She looks of half a mind to run, but her features soften as she looks at them. “Well, fuck me, then,” she says, throwing her hands in the air with a laugh. “I guess we’re all damned.”

Jaylie takes Loren’s hand and squeezes it. “On to the next adventure, then? Just like we said?” Her smile is small but determined, and her eyes are lit with fierce passion. She pitches her voice lower as she leans in. “We’ll find a way to get you out, all right?”

Loren’s eyes shine. “You do not have to do this for me.”

Jaylie plants a kiss on his cheek. “After everything we’ve been through, Loren—there’s nothing we can’t face. We’re coming with you.”

As cackling fills Jaylie’s ears, flames rise from the crater in a column of orange-and-red fire. Suddenly, a tongue lashes out, circling Jaylie and her friends in a fiery portal.

In the next moment, the gardens are gone, and all Jaylie sees is darkness.

Heat licks up the side of her neck, and Maglorbizel’s voice rasps in her ear.

“ Welcome to Hell. ”