Hellforged

walking stick. His shiny black shoes weren’t exactly hiking boots, but his feet seemed to glide over the trail.

“Go away,” I said. He didn’t reply, keeping pace at my side. Short of running down the trail like a crazy woman, I couldn’t do much to avoid him. I just wouldn’t talk to him.

But Pryce wasn’t interested in talking. He didn’t say a word. We came to a place where the footpath crossed a country lane. I turned right, onto the road. Half a mile along was another path that would take me back to Maenllyd. Pryce turned with me.

I stopped and faced him. “What do you want?”

His face was all innocent puzzlement. “Same as you, I’d imagine. I’m out for a walk.”

“Well, I’m out for a solitary walk. So you can take a hike. But not with me.” I started down the lane, away from him. Immediately he was beside me again.

“You do speak English, right?” I said.

“There’s no need for enmity between us, cousin. I’d prefer we were friends.”

“I’m not your cousin.” I walked faster, but he kept up with me.

After several tense, silent minutes, we reached a gate in a low stone wall—the entry to the footpath back to Maenllyd. I turned to tell him again to get lost, but he spoke first.

“You’ve begun reading The Book of Utter Darkness.”

“How do you know that?” I thought of my demon mark’s reaction when I touched the book. “Did your pet Hellion tell you?”

He grabbed my arm, digging in his fingers. “Difethwr is no one’s pet. Make no mistake about that.” His dark eyes pulled at mine. “Things that happen in Uffern—what you call the demon plane—are within my purview. That book, stolen by your aunt, belongs to Uffern. I’ve allowed her to keep it because I was waiting for you to find it again. It’s more than ten years since you last touched it.”

Ten years since the night my father died. The pain hit me as raw as it had that night. I leaned against the stone wall. I pictured my father, crumpled in a heap on the library carpet, his body so still. He looked unhurt, but the Destroyer’s flames burned inside him. My fault. It was all my fault. He’d died trying to protect me after I’d taken down that damned book. Mab didn’t understand how hard it was for me to read it now.

Pryce’s hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I wanted to push it away, but the contact felt good—solid, comforting. When I didn’t move, the hand settled a little more firmly. At that, I did shake it off.

“Mab doesn’t understand,” Pryce said.

Could demi-demons read minds? Or maybe he knew what it felt like to lose someone. I searched his face. It was hard to read; his grim mouth and eyes gave nothing away. But I didn’t detect any malice there. He wanted to be friends, he’d said. Maybe he meant it. To overcome centuries of hatred, someone had to make the first move.

Maybe Mab didn’t understand everything. Pryce didn’t seem hostile. He’d given me a lift when I was stranded at the train station, and he hadn’t even hit back when I nailed him with my elbow. I’d talk to him, cautiously. Maybe I’d learn something. He held the gate open, gesturing me through with his staff. We started across the field.

“So, you’re a demi-demon?” Great conversation starter, Vicky.

“I prefer the term Meibion Avagddu, the Sons of Avagddu.”

“You mean the Sons of Utter Darkness.”

He shrugged. “My ancestor didn’t choose his name any more than you chose to be called Victory.”

True. My father had given me that name, thanks to a prophetic dream he had before I was born. But I didn’t want to talk about me. “You said the Destroyer is no one’s pet. What’s your relationship with it?”

“The alliance between Hellions and the Meibion Avagddu is as old as our kinds. We cooperate to our mutual benefit.”

“Hellions don’t cooperate with anyone.”

“With anyone human, you mean. Hellions, like the Meibion Avagddu, are sworn enemies of humankind. That makes us natural allies.”

“And it makes you and me natural enemies.” I was a demi-human, after all.

His smile was tight, private. “After Gwion stole the potion, Ceridwen wanted to destroy the cauldron, and with it all Hellions. You can’t blame them for hating her—and the descendants she favored. But there’s no need for my branch of the family to be at war with yours.”

“That’s not what the book says. Do the words eternal enmity ring a bell?”

“What does ‘eternal’ mean, really? Not much. Times do change.” His dark eyes drilled into mine; it was like staring into the depths of a cave. “Wouldn’t you prefer reconciliation?”

Those eyes creeped me out. I looked away, at some sheep grazing far across the field.

“My ancestor Avagddu was a powerful spirit,” Pryce continued. “He was furious to find himself in the weak, helpless body of an infant. His cries were howls of rage and a hunger for the power that was rightfully his.”

“I can’t see Avagddu as a victim. Those howls created the Morfran.” And I’d seen firsthand what the Morfran could do.

“The time has come for the Morfran to reemerge.” He stated it as a fact, like the time had come for lunch. “For centuries, the Morfran has been weak. Imprisoned by your kind and kept from feeding. Its hunger is never sated, but when it cannot feed at all …” He let the thought trail off. “It’s been difficult. The condition of the Morfran is the condition of those who dwell in Uffern. We have been greatly weakened.”

And that’s a good thing. “But you’re not a demon. Only half.”

“Ah, but in that half lies all my power. I take this form in the Ordinary—that’s what we call your world—but I draw strength from Cysgod in Uffern.”

Cysgod was Welsh for “shadow”—I knew that one. “Cysgod is your shadow demon?”

“I prefer to say the greater, stronger part of me that’s not limited to this pathetic human form. Where you and I stand now, here in the Ordinary, Cysgod is no more than a shadow. But if you were to peek into Uffern, you’d see my demon side in all its glory.”

Something in his expression made me wary. “I’m not a big fan of hanging out in the demon plane.”

“Another time.” From the way he said it, he thought it was a sure thing.

“So this shadow demon of yours—Cysgod—is weak now.”

“ ‘ Weak’ is a relative term, is it not? Cysgod is exponentially stronger than any human. But no, that part of me is not at full strength. As the Morfran feeds, Cysgod will grow stronger.”

“It’s you.” I stopped and stared at him. “You sent the Destroyer into my dreams. You’re behind the Morfran attacks.”

“I’m doing what I can to bring an ancient prophecy to pass.” He ducked his head, like I’d complimented him and he was trying to be modest. “The Meibion Avagddu have waited centuries for the prophecy’s fulfillment. The first sign was the creation of your so-called zombies in Boston. They are food for the Morfran.”

They’re people, not food. I thought about T.J.’s easy grin. About how Gary’s bloodred eyes lit up at the prospect of talking Shakespeare with Juliet. About the look of determination on Sykes’s face as he turned away from freshly spilled human blood.

“This conversation is over. Reconciliation is impossible. I’ll do whatever I can to stop you.” I walked away from him, toward Maenllyd. He stuck with me.

“But cousin, you’ve already helped us. We couldn’t act until you brought the second sign to pass, binding Difethwr to yourself. When you did that, you created the bridge we needed between Uffern and the Ordinary. Since then, we’ve been gathering the Morfran and sending it to Boston to feed.”

“You can give up on that plan. I’m not letting you use me anymore.”

“It won’t be your choice.” His tone was ominous. “Soon we’ll no longer need a bridge.” Then his voice lightened again, and he sounded almost cheerful. “They’re in the book, all the signs and prophecies. Keep studying it. You’ll understand.”

Now I knew why Mab insisted that it was necessary for me to read that book. Pryce was using it like a road map. A new order rises. The Morfran emerges, and Uffern spills over its boundaries. The Brenin steps forward. He believed its prophecies pointed him toward power, that he was destined to expand Hell and become its king. My so-called cousin had serious ego issues.

“Yeah, I’ll keep studying, but only to learn how to defeat you.” And Difethwr. And the Morfran.