CHAPTER 8

I never thought it would end like this—suffocating as earth filled my mouth, my nose, blocked the starlight from my eyes. No, I figured I’d go down in a blaze of glory—sword slashing, blood everywhere—perhaps during the final battle called Armageddon.

Jimmy’s fingers tightened on mine, and the panic that had threatened receded. At least we were together. At least he hadn’t pulled away again.

Then we landed with a thud in a cool, gray, misty world, and Jimmy did pull away. I blinked and dirt cascaded off my lashes. I scrubbed it from my face, my eyes, my hair, then glanced up. The sky was brown; the earth beneath our feet swirled like a cloud.

“Upside down,” Jimmy murmured.

We stood. The mist was so thick we couldn’t see anything but each other.

“Now what, Sherlock?” Jimmy asked.

“We find the Dagda.”

“By wandering around blindly, dropping off the edge of time and into a hell dimension?”

Music flowed on the mist; it sounded like a—

“Harp.” I smiled. “They don’t play harps in hell.”

“How do you know? If I were a demon—”

“You are.”

“Do you really want to throw that stone?”

Good point.

“If I were a demon,” he continued, “I’d use harps to lure the unwary right into the pit.”

“I’ll remember that.” And I would, because he was probably right.

The harp music drifted closer, became louder. Jimmy and I pulled out our silver knives. I always felt better with something sharp and shiny in my hand.

From the fog stepped a tall, broad man with a huge club slung about his waist. In one arm he held a harp made of glistening, polished, intricately carved wood, with strings of gold that he plucked with large yet nimble fingers.

His hair was the sun and his eyes the sky. His teeth when he smiled were as white as winter ice and his lips the shade of a sunset in the west.

He was huge—everywhere. About eight feet tall, several feet wide, probably three hundred pounds. How could he walk on the clouds? Big feet, big hands and a codpiece—who wore those anymore?—the size of a dinner plate, which appeared to barely contain his impressive package.

At the sight of us he paused. The harp disappeared, as did his smile. The silence that descended when the music died seemed to pulse in my ears like thunder.

He reached for his club; the thing detached from his belt and flew through the air into his hand. “How did you get in?”

“Quinn.”

He relaxed somewhat, though he didn’t put the club back.

“Are you the Dagda?”

He stared me up and down, the perusal as blatant as any I’d received while tending bar at Murphy’s. “Who wants to know?”

“Elizabeth Phoenix.”

His smile returned. “The leader of the light.”

“Word travels,” Jimmy said.

“I am not completely cut off from your world. My people come here for rest, for protection, for . . .” He grinned again. “Vacation.”

“Seems like a real rockin’ place,” I said.

“It is peaceful. No one can enter the Otherworld who has not been here before. Or who is not given entry by one of us. This is not bestowed lightly.” He swung his club, one slash right and then left, and the displaced air nearly blew us off our feet. “If I am displeased by those granted entry, they die. Badly.”

“People always say that,” Jimmy murmured. “But really, what is ‘dying goodly’?”

The Dagda scowled, seemingly annoyed by the mere sound of Sanducci’s voice. “Silence your pet, light’s leader, or I will silence him for you.”

“You can try.” Jimmy stepped forward.

I elbowed him back. “This is not a pissing contest, Sanducci.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Behave,” I muttered. “We need him.”

“You come to convince me to join your fight,” the Dagda continued.

“Eventually,” I agreed. “But first things first. I’d like you to remove a spell.”

“From your collar?”

I reached up and fingered the jewels. “No. From him.”

The Dagda’s gaze turned toward Jimmy, and he took in a deep breath, tilted his head and frowned. “Plenus luna malum,” he said, reciting the name of the spell. “His vampire is beneath the moon.”

“Yes. I was told that you could release it.”

“It will not be easy for me. Or comfortable for him.”

“But you can do it.”

“I can do anything.”

Jimmy snorted, and I sent him a glare before returning my attention to the Dagda.

“Will you?” I asked.

The Dagda’s gaze slid over me. “For a price.”

“No,” Jimmy said. “She’s mine.”

The words “since when” were on the tip of my tongue, but Jimmy narrowed his eyes, and I kept them to myself.

“Sacrifices must be made,” the Dagda murmured. “You know that. Nothing is for free.”

“What, exactly, are we talking about?” I asked.

“A boon. A favor.”

“Could you be more specific?” I didn’t like promising what I didn’t understand.

“I don’t know now what I might need later.”

“No,” Jimmy repeated. “It’s too dangerous.”

“You wish the spell reversed; I am the only one powerful enough to do so.” The Dagda shrugged. “I wish for a boon from the leader of the light. It’s simple. Say yes and get what you came for, or say no and go back where you came from. And good luck winning your battle without the proper—”he lifted a brow—“equipment.”

Ruthie had said we needed to be as evil as they were to win, and I’d seen the truth of this myself when I’d fought the Naye’i. She’d had no humanity, no compassion, no restraint. She’d killed horribly and often and without remorse. I would never have been able to best her without the physical strength and the inner fury of my demon. With the Grigori loose, creating Nephilim by the minute, we needed more power than mine. We needed Jimmy’s.

Since the Dagda appeared to be the only one who could remove the spell and release Jimmy’s demon, the choice was even simpler than the fairy god had made out. Because I didn’t have one.

“Just to be clear . . . You’ll release Jimmy’s demon and you’ll join our side,” I stated. “In return, I’ll do something unknown for you at a future date.”

“Both the spell and the choosing of sides,” the Dagda mused. “This will have to be a very great favor.”

“I figured that.”

He smiled. “So did I.”

“Don’t I have anything to say about this?” Jimmy asked.

“No,” the Dagda and I answered at the same time.

“How long will it take?” I asked.

“Plenus luna malum is not easily cast. I will do my best to be quick, but removing it is not simple either. You must leave him with me.”

“But—”

“You have work to do, light’s leader. You cannot tarry here.”

“You’ll let me know when he’s—” I stopped, uncertain what to say. Not better. Not cured or healed. More like worse. Cursed and possessed and insane with a lust for blood and death, destruction and chaos.

“Yes,” the Dagda agreed. “When we are finished, I will contact you.” I opened my mouth to ask how—he was underground—and the Dagda held up a hand. “I have ways. Do not worry about that.”

“You’ll have to bespell . . . something.” I traced the collar around my neck. “Or he’ll be—”

“I know what he’ll be, and I will take every precaution. I prefer my own blood right where it is and not soaking into the ground of the Otherworld.”

I took a deep breath, glanced at Jimmy, whose face was tense and pale, but I nodded, and Jimmy closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at me anymore.

“The deal is made,” the Dagda said. “Now it must be sealed.”

“With blood, I suppose.”

“A kiss is so much more binding.”

“You want me to kiss you.”

He tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”

“I can just imagine what the ‘favor’s’ gonna be if you’re sealing the deal with a kiss,” Jimmy muttered. “But then that’s right up your alley.”

He was angry, hurt, betrayed. I couldn’t blame him for lashing out. So why did I?

“I could use more power.” I lifted one shoulder, then lowered it. “Why not his?”

Jimmy stared at me as if he’d just realized something and he didn’t much like it. “You’ve changed.”

I laughed. “You think?”

“No more talk.” The Dagda reached for me. Jimmy made a move, as if he’d put himself between us, and the fairy god sent him to the ground with one sharp glare from his ice-blue eyes.

“Stay,” the Dagda murmured, and then he kissed me.

As kisses went, it wasn’t so bad. A mere brush of his lips, soft and almost sweet—not even a hint of tongue. Unfortunately, at the first touch I saw the truth of what he’d do to Jimmy.

It was going to hurt.

I jerked back, my lips forming “no” but my voice too bound by horror to set the word free.

The Dagda’s intent gaze bored into mine. “Do you choose to spare him even if it means the end of the world?”

And that “no” I’d been choking on flew free.