“Inter-planar travel should be getting easier for you,” Monty said, patting Peaches on the head. “Good hellhound.”
Peaches answered with a rumble and a body shake, which nearly bounced me off the wall with a shattered spine.
“I think we have different definitions for easier,” I said, waiting for the hallway to stop twisting. “The intestines I left outside would disagree about this getting easier in any way, shape, or form.”
“If you’d stop fighting your bonds,” Monty said, narrowing his eyes at me, “you wouldn’t suffer this way.”
I took a step off the wall, felt the floor tilt, and thought better of it, leaning back until everything stopped moving.
“I’m not fighting my bonds,” I said. “I’m just adjusting to them.”
“Your adjusting needs adjusting,” Monty said, looking down the hallway to our door. “Can you move? We don’t have the luxury of relaxing.”
“Relaxing?” I asked with a groan. “Is that what I’m doing?”
“You certainly aren’t addressing the situation at hand,” Monty said, looking at the door where Cece lived. “Jotnar ice mage? Pressed for time? Imminent building collapse? Seething ice-queen landlord? Any of those ring a bell?”
“No need to be pushy,” I said. “It’s not like my internal organs are convulsing in agony, making anything but shallow breathing an accomplishment.”
“If you stop fighting your bonds, this won’t be an issue,” Monty answered with a total lack of compassion. “It’s not complicated. Embrace who you are.”
“I think Hallmark is looking for some compassion writers—you’d fit right in.”
“I don’t do compassion,” he said. “Mages are pragmatists. We see the situation as it is, not as we wish it to be. You need to do the same, sooner rather than later.”
I stared at him. He was right, but I would never tell him that.
“I’ve just gotten used to the idea of Ebonsoul floating around inside of me somewhere,” I answered, straightening myself out. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”
“You may not have the luxury of time,” Monty said, looking down the hallway at Cece’s door. “Haven’t you noticed the caliber of your enemies? They seem to be getting stronger, commensurate with the increase in your power.”
“My enemies?” I asked. “I’m not the mage—you are.”
“A valid point.”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling somewhat vindicated. “You are the one dealing with all the energy slinging and runic manipulation.”
“However,” he began, “Kali cursed you—Chosen One. Hades gave you a hellhound to bond with. It also seemed like Chaos was particularly focused on you for some reason.”
“That was all because of a mage—”
“You also happen to be energetically intertwined with an ancient vampire, whose mental stability is...questionable at best. You recently ingested dragon blood and survived, faced the guardian of the Underworld, and regularly have conversations with an agent of causality.”
“It’s mostly your fault, you know.”
“I disagree. Until you embrace who you are,” he said, pointing a finger at me, “and accept responsibility for your part in your life, you will experience runic dissonance, which is expressed in rather interesting ways—like having your internal organs convulsing in pain every time you teleport or planewalk.”
“I don’t know which is worse: the lecture or the agony of planewalking,” I said, upset. Mostly at myself, because his words contained enough truth to sting. “Are you done?”
He let out a short sigh and shook his head.
“The list is quite long,” Monty said, nodding. “I’d continue, but as I mentioned, we are pressed for time.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m a Montague and a mage. I’m always serious.”
“You know, ever since we met, my life has been radically altered.”
“For the better,” Monty said with a nod. “I agree. Now shall we address this current situation, which, surprisingly, is not of your making?”
“After you,” I said, pointing at Cece’s door. “She’s your apprentice, Darth Monty.”
“Not only is that inaccurate, it’s not remotely humorous,” Monty said, approaching Cece’s door. “She is my student. While the terminology is correct, the context is wrong. She has not ‘gone over’ to the dark side, nor am I a Sith Lord.”
“Freezing a building full of people, with the potential of reducing it to a pile of rubble, sounds pretty dark side to me.”
“If it were intentional,” Monty said, gesturing and forming several large, white-hot orbs in front of her door. “Then I could see this act as being dark. As it stands, she’s probably scared witless at her shift.”
“Oh, this is what Jotnar fear looks like?” I asked. “I’d hate to see her angry, determined, and focused.”
“Yes, you would,” Monty said his voice grim. “The Jotnar are staggeringly powerful, their ice mages in particular. This is most likely Cecelia losing control because of the shift.”
“Wait—should we be going in there if she’s out of control?” I asked. “I mean, I seem to recall your last shift was dangerous…mostly for me.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Monty said, extending his arm. “We can’t stop her from out here.”
“Oh, hell,” I said, pressing the main bead on my mala bracelet and pulling up my shield. I made sure Peaches was behind the shield. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I,” he said. “I’ve never dealt with a Jotnar shift.”
Monty gestured again, forming another shield in front of mine as the orbs floated into the door with a loud hiss.
A moment later, the door exploded.
SEVEN
Chunks of ice, wood, and metal lay scattered all over the hallway. The door leading to Cece’s place was gone, replaced by a gaping hole. Monty stepped in through the jagged opening that used to be the door.
“Bloody hell,” I heard him curse under his breath. “This is incredible.”
“You mean the ice everywhere?” I asked, dropping my shield and following him in a second later. “Or the fact that this was done by a little girl?”
“Both.”
We were standing in what I assumed was the foyer. It was hard to tell, since everything had the feel of an arctic ice cave. The space was laid out similarly to ours, with some distinct differences.
