Darkness, Kindled (Fire Spirits 4)

Trey looked unsure. He’ll kill me if anything happens to you and I didn’t do anything to stop this.

Nothing will happen to me. Glass will take care of me.

Trey shot a look at Glass, clearly wanting to believe her. She could tell by the way the lovers gazed into one another’s eyes that they were having a telepathic conversation. It ended with Glass giving Trey a small, dignified nod of his head, suggesting to Ari he had promised him something. At that, Trey pressed a kiss to the corner of Glass’s mouth and then turned to draw Ari into his strong embrace. Be careful.

***

“When my son communicated to me that he was on his way with my granddaughter, formerly known as the Seal, I admit to finding myself somewhat surprised.” Azazil smirked at her, the streak of blood on his cheek distracting.

Upon arrival at Azazil’s palace,

Ari and Glass were quickly ushered into a part of the structure Ari had never seen. Clearly, it served as Azazil’s torture chamber. It was also clear that he’d deliberately remained in it for her visit to shock her. And when he told Glass to leave her with him, to leave the palace entirely, it was clear he also wanted to frighten Ari. Glass, of course, had obeyed his father, and now Ari was alone. Well, unfortunately, no matter how shocked or frightened she was, Ari did not have time for it. Her friend’s life lay in the balance. And Azazil was all about balance, right?

Focusing on Azazil’s ponytail of long, white silk hair, she replied, “I needed to see you.”

“Let me guess—you miss being the Seal?”

“No.”

He shrugged and lay down the small, jewel-handled dagger in his hands. “You’re tired of these visits from Asmodeus and would like me to have a word with him?”

Feeling impatient, Ari shook her head. “No. I mean, yes, I’m tired of his visits and I would really appreciate him staying away from me, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here … I’m here about the favor you owe me.”

That got his attention. “Oh. That pesky thing.” He turned to face her full on. “Well? What is it you want, child? Out with it.”

Ari drew in a shuddering breath.

“You can turn back time, right? You can change a person’s path in life.”

Every muscle in the Sultan’s body tensed, his eyes alert as he took one intimidating step toward her. “Why are you here?”

Needing to make a statement, Ari took a step toward him rather than cower back from him, and she saw the surprise flicker in his dark gaze. “I want you to change my past. Change it so that Sala never left me at Derek Johnson’s in Sandford Ridge when I was a baby.”

Azazil cocked his head to the side in thought. “What path would you prefer?”

“Don’t rewrite me a new one. I want to continue on in my life as it is, with all the people in it. However, I want the threads with Pazuzu, the Ghulah, and the Labartu to change. Like they never knew about me, never met me or the people I care about. I want Derek’s, Charlie’s, and Fallon’s lives to be different, and this is the only way I know how.”

“Do you know what you ask of me? It is much, Ari. It is very much. You are asking me to create a new reality for these people without affecting your own. You want me to create a new reality without causing too massive a domino effect.” His eyes narrowed. “You do realize that if I did this, only mortals would be affected by it. Derek, Mikey, Charlie, and Fallon. And Fallon, being a half-blood, will remember this reality as well as the new one I create. That’s asking a great deal of her. It’s asking a great deal of me. It will exhaust me, Ari. It will drain me. I’ll have to make sure that every new path, road, and thread that this change creates does not have an effect on the bigger picture. There’s always a chance I don’t foresee everything, and something monumental might occur. Something irreversible. Is that the kind of responsibility you’re ready for?”

She nodded, her heart pounding so hard she thought a rib might break.

He shook his head at her. “Why am I not surprised that the favor you ask be so colossal? You are White’s daughter. Of course it is colossal. There is a great deal of danger in what you ask.”

“It’s the favor I’m asking. You said you’d grant me a favor that was within your power to grant me. You just said you could do it. So … will you?”

As Ari waited for his answer, she once again tried to ignore the blood splatter at the edge of her vision and the groans from the dying man strung up at the edge of the small room. Packed dirt was hard beneath her feet, the bare rock walls devoid of emeralds and glistening with dank moisture. Low light from candles scattered throughout gave it a gothic, sinister atmosphere. Damp earth, sweat, and the coppery scent of blood tingled Ari’s nose.

Her own blood rushed in her ears as she stared up at Azazil, awaiting his answer.

His black eyes narrowed on her, his thoughts impossible to discern. With a huge sigh, he looked away, his contemplation falling upon the man he had been torturing before Ari arrived.

The Sultan wore no jewelry and his usual ostentatious style was muted—he wore only dark leather trousers and leather bands around his wrists. His muscled, naked torso was covered in blood and little bits of torn flesh. Ari dropped her gaze, feeling her stomach turn.

“I’ve laid out the consequences,

Ari.” Azazil looked back at her now and that fist of anxiety twisted in her chest. “Are you sure you understand what I’m saying?”

She nodded. “I understand. Are you saying you’ll grant me the favor you owe me?”

His lip curled at the corner, his eyes glittering. “I should either kill you or applaud you for using the oath of a favor against me. This is no ordinary favor. It will affect us all … and I am unusually blind to the consequences. I see vague images that I cannot make sense of.” His features hardened. “All I can feel is that if I grant you this favor, something of great immensity will come to pass. Something that will affect my realm and the mortal one, not just me and you.”

His prophecy made her stop. It was one thing to suggest the possible consequences and another to prophesize an actual gigantic change. “In what way?”

“I told you I cannot know for sure.”

“So it could be good or bad?”

“Is anything ever just good or bad?”

The man at her side groaned again, and Ari winced. “I don’t suppose you’d let this guy go too as part of the favor?”

Azazil scowled. “I grant you this favor and I might not be able to do much of anything for a while.”

That in itself was reason enough to do it. Ari nodded. “Do it.”

The Sultan crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know whether to risk the consequences of breaking my oath to you or go along with this insanity.”

“I thought you liked insanity. It’s entertaining, right?”

That produced a slow, wicked grin from her grandfather. “This is true.” He dropped his arms and strode toward her, the majesty of his power threatening to blow her off her feet. “You win, Ari. I’ll grant you your favor.” He smirked. “Let the realms have mercy on us all.”

Suddenly, nausea took hold of Ari as her vision went in and out, the room shaking in a jarred blur back and forth. But as her vision refocused and the nausea retreated, Ari realized it wasn’t her eyesight. With a shiver she glanced around her new surroundings.

>

Azazil had shifted them both to a huge bedchamber she assumed was the Sultan’s.

“Privacy,” he murmured, and that was the last thing he said before he braced himself against the elaborately carved fourth post of the mammoth bed.

Uncertain what was happening, Ari opened her mouth to speak but stopped when Azazil closed his eyes.

She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

His body flickered in and out as his fingernails dug into the wooden post. “Arggh!” he groaned between clenched teeth.

Shadows pooled into the room, filled with the hiss of electricity. Ari’s breathing grew shallow and she took a tentative step toward the Sultan only to feel an immense, painful pressure push in on her temples.

The pain blinded her and Ari cried out, falling to her knees. Her arms folded over her head as she tucked it into her body, praying for the pain to stop. She let out another scream, trying to relieve the pressure … but it seemed to go on forever, until her body began to sway toward the black …

Yes … the black where there was no pain.

And then it stopped.

The whole room stilled beneath her and Ari let her arms fall, tears streaming down her cheeks as she lifted her heavy head and gazed up at Azazil. What she saw shocked the very breath out of her.

“Your Highness?” she whispered hoarsely, still feeling the throbbing waves of remembered pressure at her temples.

Azazil glanced over at her as he slumped toward the floor. “Done,” he whispered.

He was so pale. And not just pale. Hollows sunk beneath his eyes, shadows stretched across his torso, a torso once powerful and muscular, now lean and frail.

“What have I done?” Ari murmured, more tears falling.

The Sultan tried to wave a hand at her, but his wrist flopped with the effort.

It suddenly occurred to her there was a wave of magic pooling behind her and Ari twisted around to look at the double doors to Azazil’s chambers.

“Asmodeus …,” Azazil whispered.

“Been trying … to get …in. Too weak … to take … down enchantme …”

Afraid of Asmodeus’s reaction but even more afraid for the Sultan, Ari waved an exhausted hand at the door, feeling the energy that blocked the lieutenant out. It was a binding spell, not a very strong one if you were in the room with it, but outside … it might take Asmodeus too long to take it down. Ari felt the ember burst across her palm and she held it up and outward toward Azazil’s spell. With a little focus, she felt it fragment and two seconds later, the double doors blasted off their hinges.