Page 38 of Try As I Smite
Gatekeeper, open your gate to me. Go.
A whirlpool opened at her feet, sinking into the polished marble flooring and leading to the seven hells. A cry rose from the shadowy forms as, one by one, they were sucked inside, sent back to the first level of hell where the gatekeepers would determine what to do with them. Their own terror spiked through her heart, shards of ice joining the blistering heat consuming her.
This one act made her a traitor to her own kind. These were half her people, only wanting to escape the hells in which they’d been trapped. No more perfectly evil than the angels were perfectly pure.
Her parents had taught her that.
But she had no choice. If the demons found their way out in numbers, they would consume the world. Alasdair and his people were not going to be their gateway. Not if she could help it.
Only, the whirlpool started to drag at her own body.
Oh gods. She’d forgotten to protect herself with her summoning words. The hells wouldn’t differentiate between demons’ souls.
Scrambling, she tried to teleport herself away, but, as though vines had wrapped around her ankles, she felt herself being pulled inexorably into the void.
She tried one series of words, then another, the slick floor giving her fingernails no purchase and her spells doing nothing. As though the words and her power were consumed by the portal she’d created.
As she was dragged in, black spots appeared in her vision, slowly narrowing to a pinprick. Then something grabbed her by the wrists and a scream tore from her mouth at the instant, bone-shuddering agony. But whatever it was didn’t let go, pulling at her so hard, she thought her spine might snap from the strain of the opposing forces.
“Don’t you give up on me, dammit.”
Alasdair’s voice.
No. He shouldn’t be here. He needed to be out there with his people. Fighting. Because more demons were waiting. She knew that for certain from her trip to the future.
“Let me go,” she begged.
“No fucking way.”
But she slipped in his grasp, sweat—his, hers—making her skin slick.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Then two more sets of hands landed on her, one on each arm and, in a massive tug, she was freed of the whirlpool, landing in a heap, half on Alasdair, by the scent of his cologne, and half on the cold stone floor. But the whirlpool was still going. It wanted all the demons in the room.
A familiar voice—her father’s voice—uttered an incantation, and the sound stopped along with the drag on her body. Delilah slumped forward, catching her breath, aware of the rise and fall of Alasdair’s chest. She shook her head, clearing her vision, and lifted her head, that small action shaking her whole body, to find both her parents kneeling beside them.
“Mom?” she choked through a throat constricting around too much emotion. “Dad?”
They weren’t supposed to be here. Her mother was too weak, and it went against every rule on both sides.
Hazah cupped a hand to her cheek. “You will always be my baby.”
Her father took her by the hands and helped her to her feet, then whispered words that sent a cooling rush over flaming nerves and healing the oozing blisters and boils that had formed around the circumference of her wrists. Not removing her shackles, but soothing her so that she could keep going. He yanked her into his arms, and for the first time ever, showed her an emotion, his body shaking against her.
“We’ve tipped our hand,” he murmured in her hair. “If we do anything else to help—”
Their own people would come for them. “I know.”
She took a deep breath, stepping back to look at them both, maybe truly seeing their love for the first time. “I love you.”
Before they could respond, she gripped Alasdair’s arm and whisked just the two of them to where instinct told her his people were gathering.
They appeared on the mountainside, at the top looking out and over a small, snow-covered valley. One filled with hundreds…no thousands…of mages. Not possessed yet, she didn’t think. Here to fight. Their chanting filled the night air with the heavy weight of powerful magic.
A glance to her right showed her Rowan and Greyson Masters both there. Had they left the Syndicate in order to bring others? Thank the gods, because they needed all the help they could get. Rowan, her mouth moving with the words of the spell, nodded her head in acknowledgment.
In the same moment, Alasdair whirled around, taking her by the shoulders. “Dammit, Delilah. You’ve done everything you can. Clear out of here.”
