Hellforged

mind. I imagined the shield as a one-way mirror, the kind you could look through without being seen. Behind the shield, I focused on Mab, calling up her colors.

“Don’t flatter yourself, cousin. You’re not remotely my type. You’re scrawny, rude, mouthy, and you wear your hair absurdly short. I prefer my females more … feminine.”

The crack about my hair was a low blow. Whatever I’d tried to do with it—grow it out, put in a few highlights—it always reverted to the same style after a shift. I reached a hand toward it, then stopped myself. Focus on Mab.

In the shielded part of my mind, Mab’s colors swirled and billowed up, blue and silver. The call was going through. I muted the colors a few degrees, hoping Mab would understand it as a warning to stay quiet.

“If you don’t like me, why not find yourself a nice, ‘feminine’ demi-demon and settle down?”

“I’m as bound by the prophecy as you are. If you pass the third test, all will be settled. I believe, however, that you’ll fail. You’ve been lucky so far, but luck won’t carry you to a destiny that’s not truly yours.”

Mab’s shape appeared as a shadow in the mist. I watched her from a tiny corner of my consciousness. She held a finger to her lips and nodded.

I turned my full attention to Pryce.

“So what’s the third test?”

He wagged his finger at me like I was a naughty child. “If the book sees fit to withhold that information, I won’t give it away. It’s much more fun as a surprise.”

“Why? I thought—” I had to tread carefully. If I tried to say the prophecy and it came out garbled, Pryce would know something was up. “You know, the other prophecy. The one you claimed to receive before my birth.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Don’t add stupidity to the list of your shortcomings. I told you before, prophecies can be tricky. One must guard against letting them lead one down the wrong path. All the signs and omens appear to be in order, but then boom!” He clapped his hands, and a fireball exploded from them. “Everything blows up in your face.”

“So what if this particular prophecy doesn’t point to me? What will you do?”

He waved his hand, dismissing the issue. “I’ll look elsewhere for a mate.”

I risked a glance at Mab to see if she’d heard. The set of her mouth told me she had. But looking at her had been a mistake.

“What are you—?” Pryce clapped his hands again, and this time the explosion shattered the shield. Mab stepped forward. Pryce leapt from his chair, his features twisted in fury, but immediately he smoothed out his expression. “A conference call, is it? Hello, Mab. I’d say you’re looking well, but frankly you look terrible.”

“You won’t win, Pryce,” Mab said. “Understand that now, before you escalate things. You have two choices: You can go back to wherever you’ve been and live. Or you can pursue your ambitions and die.”

“Thanks for the advice, Auntie. But neither of your suggestions fits with my plan. Truth be told, you don’t fit with my plan. I take it you haven’t yet read about yourself in the book?”

“The book lies. And there are other prophecies than those you choose to heed.”

Pryce laughed his nasty laugh. “I know what’s coming. I feel my power growing. All the Cerddorion heroes of old fighting together couldn’t stop me. A miserable old hag like you certainly can’t do it alone.”

“Don’t insult her.” From nowhere, the Sword of Saint Michael appeared in my hand, its blade in full flame. I stepped between Mab and Pryce, extending the sword to within an inch of his face. “She’s not alone. I stand with her.”

Pryce’s face rippled. The skin boiled, then split, revealing his demon form, the same hideous monster I’d fought in the pub. “We shall see about that, shan’t we?” he growled. He moved away from the sword, and his human appearance returned, his face knitting itself back together.

“You’ve said what you came to say.” I advanced with the sword, hoping he’d stand his ground so I could see what happened when I pressed the sword against his neck. I wanted to see his human form split like a banana peel. I wanted to drive the flaming blade deep into his disgusting demon body. Even if it wasn’t real, it’d be so, so satisfying.

“I’m going.” The black-and-olive mist swirled up around his knees. I concentrated, making the mist rise thicker and faster, until it obscured Pryce. With a single, strong puff, I blew the mist away. All trace of Pryce blew away with it.

I turned to Mab, eager to hear her thoughts about Pryce’s prophecy. But her colors were rising around her.

“Sleep now, child,” she said. “You need to rest for tomorrow.” Then she, too, was gone. Before I could call her back, sleep swallowed me whole.

26

I SLEPT UNTIL ALMOST NOON, THEN FOUND MAB IN THE library. She sat at her desk, bent over a book, probably the book, and looked up when she heard me. She wore her black training clothes, and there was a determined set to her jaw that showed how worried she was.

She didn’t waste time with good morning. “So Pryce believes you’re destined to bear his child.”

Picturing Cysgod’s hideous face, I couldn’t suppress a shudder as I nodded. “Have you ever heard a prophecy like that?”

“No. But I consulted the book this morning and there it was, clear as a bell. From a goddess two lines diverged, but they shall be reunited in Victory. Is that what it said to you?”

“Word for word.” I felt almost giddy with relief to finally share the burden of that prophecy with my aunt. “But there’s got to be another way to interpret it, right? What do you think it means?”

“Don’t ask me that, child. Pryce has tried to force your thoughts about its meaning down a certain track. I won’t influence you that way. Remember what I said before: Hold the words lightly in your mind. Don’t allow anyone—not Pryce, not me, not even yourself—to sway you toward one meaning or another.”

“What’s the point in wrestling with the damn book if I can’t try to understand it?”

“You can try. In fact, you must try. Pryce refers to the book to plot his moves. But the book works against us as we attempt to use it. Try to understand, but don’t accept any meaning as definitive. And above all—”

“I know, I know. Be pure.”

“It’s the only way to defeat him, child.”

I could see that, sort of. Pryce wanted to make me into something I wasn’t. So being pure meant protecting myself from his manipulations. Still, my future didn’t look too great from where I stood: Fail the third test and die, or make demon babies with Pryce.

Whoa, stop right there. That was exactly the kind of thinking Mab was warning me about.

“The book revealed more than the prophecy. It narrated last night’s battle at the pub. I’ll attempt to repeat it as the book gave it to me.” She described what she’d read. “Is that accurate?”

“Yeah, except it makes Cysgod sound like a hero and me like a complete klutz.”

She smiled. “You’re no klutz, child. Pryce would have you believe you won by sheer luck. But the ability to improvise is an important skill for any fighter.” She scrutinized my face, as though trying to read my thoughts. “If you do believe it was luck, think of it this way: Luck means destiny is on your side, not working against you.”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“I believe we make our own. Here”—she got up from her desk chair—“you have a go. I’ve worked with the book all morning. ‘Wrestled’ would be an apt metaphor. But it gave me more information than it has in a long time. Perhaps it will show you something new.”

The book waited on my aunt’s desk like a steel trap, ready to snap off my hand when I touched it. I stalled. “Why did the dream phone work last night? I made the tea extra strong.”

“I warned you the tea’s power would lessen.” She rapped the book and gestured toward the chair. “Time’s