“How is all this going to help you?” questioned Emily. “What’s in it for you? I mean, if you guys are so hell-bent on destroying the world, what’s the point? What do you stand to gain?”
“Well, dominion, of course.” The young man scrunched his eyebrows as if this was the most obvious answer ever. “The Na-Ma”—he winked as he abbreviated the term—“is meant to unleash a being so evil and so powerful that he would bring the end of days. But what is the end of days, really?”
He paused for an answer.
“You obviously have a different definition than I do, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me,” Emily prompted, a sarcastic smile across her face.
The guy smiled. He did that too often. “The end of days is literally the end of days. The end of democracy. The end of human rights. The end of Facebook and Instagram. The creature we’re unleashing will bring a new rule. A theocratic rule, where he is God, and we’re his angels, ruling over sections of the world.”
“And you think this creature will agree to share dominion with you?”
“He won’t have a choice,” the Alfred said. “We’re going to bind him to our will.”
“Can you do that?” At that moment, Emily wished she had read more of her aunt’s books when she had the chance.
“Of course. The same spellbook that has the spell for unleashing it also has the spell for binding it to our will. We’re basically going to use the beast to take over the world, and all shall bow to me or face ruin and destruction.”
“You know everyone will rise up against you.”
“We expect that.” The guy sounded so casual. “That’s why we need the beast.”
“And when the whole world is a pot of smoke and destruction and ruin, who would you rule over?” Emily asked.
The question kind of blindsided the guy because he paused. For once, his face looked serious.
“Huh,” he muttered after a while.
“What’s ‘huh’ now?”
“I never thought of that,” the guy admitted.
Emily sighed. This guy was such a brainless tool. “What’s your name?”
“Chandler. Chandler Alfred.”
“Hey, Chandler, nice to meet you.” Emily flashed him a faux smile. “Will you, by any chance, now desist from trying to end the world?”
Chandler shook his head, smiling once again. “Nope.”
12
It was worth a try. Of course, Emily didn’t expect to get Chandler Alfred to change his mind about ending the world just because she asked him to. She had, after all, seen herself lying on the altar of sacrifice—Saka, apparently. It was fated to be. So to win this, Emily needed to change fate.
It was never an easy task to do that. As it stood, she was on the wrong side of fate. Of course, Chandler wasn’t going to change his mind just because she batted her eyelashes at him.
Emily blew a tuft of hair from her face. “I’m not going to let you destroy the world,” she said. “I’ll fight you until every last drop of blood within me is spilled.”
“Sure, of course, we expect no less,” Chandler said without missing a beat. Smiling bigger now, a sense of admiration in his eyes. “No wonder you’re the one who must bring the end of the world. You know, the magician is not really the essential piece of the puzzle, right?”
Emily blinked at him.
“It’s The Owl. The magician is like a conductor in the ritual. He conducts the energy generated by The Owl. But it’s The Owl that generates the energy required to unleash Nadar . . . well, you know what.” He bobbed his head back and forth. “So, it’s no wonder you’re the key. You’ve got spirit. That fierce, fighting spirit. When your blood is spilled on the altar of Saka, the great beast will relish drinking it!”
His voice trembled with a savage evilness that Emily would have thought him incapable of. Because, for all his smiles and niceness, he was, at his core, evil—tremendously evil.
Emily took a step back, horrorstruck. For the first time since they started this venture, she realized what she was up against. She was able to appreciate the gravity of the opposition she faced, and it made her shudder anew.
Chandler was still smiling, but his eyes glowed a fierce orange, and they had taken up a malevolent look. He seemed to be building up to unleash powerful magic on Emily. Though she knew there was a barrier between her and him, she still took a few steps back in awry anticipation.
“Chandler, are you telling the pretty girl all our plans?” yelled a cute little voice from behind.
Chandler deflated at the girl’s voice. The glow in his eyes vanished. His smirk was wiped away. Suddenly serious. Behind him, the Alfred girl had left her side of the car and was walking toward them. Slightly behind her was Marion. He wasn’t even looking in Emily’s direction—he seemed to be doing all he could to avoid her eyes.
Emily settled her attention on the girl. Chandler stood to the side and allowed her to approach Emily.
She was a little girl of no more than twelve. She wore a flowery dress, and her raven hair was tied in two perfect braids. She was pleasant enough, and had the same color of eyes as her siblings, although hers were a paler variation with a startling deep red on the edges of her irises.
When she smiled at Emily, Emily almost swooned. Her smile was so beautiful to behold. Emily felt as though heaven had smiled at her, and she had to suppress the strong urge to run out of the barrier and sweep the girl into her arms and cuddle her.
“My name is Alice Alfred,” she said cheerily. “What’s yours?”
“Emily Davies.”
“Sweet. Emily. I love the name,” Alice chirped, flashing a brief but surly gaze at Chandler, who (Emily was not sure if she saw it correctly) cowered at her gaze. “I have to apologize for my brother, Chandler. Sometimes he
