“Then why did it save Josef?” Eli asked.
Alric’s eyes narrowed. “How should I know?”
“Nico is still alive,” the Heart said. “She is a survivor. I had my doubts as well at first. Since the morning Josef took her naked from the crater, I have come close to killing her myself on several occasions. Every time, I thought the demon had won, but every time she fought back. I think that this time will be no different. That thing may not look like Nico, but it is still her body. So long as there is some shred of her soul left, so long as she still has will, she is still a wizard. So long as she has will, she has the weight of a mountain, and there is still hope.”
Alric shook his head, but Eli stared past him, watching the demon with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.
“Alric,” he said quietly, “I’ll make you a deal.”
Alric sneered. “This isn’t the time for tricks.”
“No,” Eli said. “No tricks, just a clean proposition. We may not have always gotten along, but Nico is still my companion. I take only the best into my line of work, and she’s no exception. The sword is right. The demon never beat her before, and I’m willing to bet my life and my pride that it hasn’t beaten her now.” He held up his hand, fingers splayed wide. “Five minutes. If she doesn’t beat her seed in five minutes, then I’ll do anything you want. I’ll call Benehime down here to dance with you, if you like. Do we have a deal?”
Alric considered for a moment, and then released his death grip on Eli’s shirt. “You do realize that in five minutes there may not be anything left to save.” He looked at the demon, then at the Heart, and then at Eli. “All right,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Five minutes.”
Eli nodded and stepped over Josef’s splayed body. He ran to the edge of the ruined fissure, parts of which were still collapsing and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted as loud as he could.
“Nico!” he cried, layering just enough power into the words to make sure they would cut through everything else. “Listen! Me, Josef, the Heart of War, we’re betting it all on you! You’ve got five minutes to turn this around before Alric and the League get their way, but I think you can do it. I’m sorry about before. I was stupid. I admit it. Come back to us, Nico, and everything will be like it was, only better. Just you, me, Josef, and anything in the world we want to steal. All you have to do is kick that demon out and come home. Five minutes. We’ll be here waiting for you.”
His voice echoed through the hills, and the spirit panic dimmed to listen. On the other side of the fissure, the demon paused its eating. It stood there, listening for one long moment. Then, with an angry scream, it began to eat again.
Panting, Eli sat down on the crumbling stone, rubbing his hands over his dusty face and hoping on whatever luck he still had that he’d made the right choice.
CHAPTER
21
Nico raised her head. She could have sworn she’d heard someone calling her, but now, no matter how she strained her ears, all she heard was silence. She was alone, sitting on a cold floor of smooth black stone. It went on forever in all directions, an endless, endless darkness of the kind she’d seen only once before.
“Yes,” a deep, smooth voice whispered behind her. “When you were with me.”
Nico spun around, sliding back on the stone. A man was standing behind her where there had been no one a second before. He was tall and broad shouldered, dressed in a simple black shirt and dark trousers tucked into tall boots, just like Josef’s. He looked a lot like Josef too, and a little bit like Eli, but the cruel look in his golden eyes belonged to only one person.
“Master.” Her whisper was little more than a breath.
“At last you remember.” The man smiled.
Nico did remember. She remembered the slave pens. How she’d been taken from them. How the cult members had held her down, their dead white faces leering beneath their cowls. She remembered the hideous feeling of the seed, then barely larger than a grape pit, being shoved down her choking throat. But more than that, she remembered the unadulterated joy of the Master’s good opinion. The absolute pleasure that came from being a good child who pleased her father. The warmth, the understanding, the acceptance that no one outside could give her.
The Master opened his arms, and she ran to him, flinging herself against his chest with a sob. Joy and belonging like she’d never felt washed over her, but even as she savored the feelings, there was something wrong about them. Something alien, almost sticky in her mind. Slowly, painfully, she released her grip and stepped back.