Page 34 of Kiss of Embers
My nerves built as I neared the fountain. One by one, contestants said their vow and scooped a handful of water. Every time someone finished, a golden light flashed in the bowl. Witches, fae, werewolves, and vampires descended the staircase, disappearing into the yawning black opening in the ground.
Eventually, it was my turn. Inessa stood next to the fountain with Bolveg just behind her.
“Remember your vow,” she told me. “You’ll use no magic you don’t already possess.”
Nodding, I stepped to the edge of the bowl. The fountain reflected the night sky, making the water appear to swim with stars. I drew a deep breath and said, “I vow not to use any magic I don’t already possess.”
Light flared in the water. For one dazzling moment, my face appeared on the surface. Then it was gone, replaced with the smooth, inky reflection of the sky.
Inessa motioned toward the stairs. “You may enter the catacombs. Good luck.”
Heart racing, I walked to the steps. Muggy, dust-laden air rose from the opening, which looked like a giant had carved it from the earth. As I hesitated, a low, mournful groan drifted up the stairs.
Goosebumps prickled over my arms. My throat went dry.It’s not real.There was no reason to be afraid. Putting my shoulders back, I started down the steps.
An hour later,I continued to descend the staircase. My thighs screamed. Sweat beaded at my temples, and more sweat soaked the back of my shirt. The air was like an oven—cloying and dusty. The scent of soil and decay coated my lungs. Every time I thought the staircase was going to end, it kept going, stretching into what felt like infinity. It certainly appeared that way. No matter how deeply I ventured, the stairs continued, with no bottom in sight.
After a dozen or so steps, my eyes had adjusted, allowing me to see the rough stone walls that supported the staircase. But even with my night vision, my surroundings were limited to a dull, lifeless gray. Gray stairs. Gray walls. My footfalls echoed in my ears. At first, I’d passed the time singing songs in my head. Then I switched to commercial jingles.
Now, I focused on simply staying upright even as my legs felt like noodles. The steps couldn’t go onforever, could they? Maybe that was part of the challenge—staving off madness while descending stairs that never led anywhere.
Something flickered across my vision. I slowed, my pulse picking up, and peered into the formless gray void several steps down. Probably, my eyes were playing tricks on me. I resumed my previous pace.
Another flicker. I stopped, my heart picking up speed. Weak light swelled ahead. More flickers, and then shadows danced up the steps. The smoky scent of pitch burned my nose.
Torches.
A man’s terrified scream bounced off the walls, followed by pounding footsteps. My breath caught as they rushed toward me. I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the stone, and almost lost my balance.
Serge burst from the gloom, the torch in his hand illuminating the dagger-shaped tattoos under his eyes. He stopped on the step just below me, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.
“Dralak, god of the hunt, preserve us! They’re coming!”
Growls echoed up the stairs. My stomach clenched, and fear prickled over my scalp. Because I recognized those growls. They climbed up and down, rising and falling in an unnatural cadence that lifted the fine hairs on my body. I’d heard those growls for over a year while I hunted wolves stricken with moon sickness.
This isn’t real.And neither was Serge. He couldn’t be. The pack priest was back home in Maine, where I’d asked him to serve as alpha in my absence.
He lunged toward me, bringing the torch’s flame dangerously close to my face. Heat seared my cheek. Serge’s lips peeled back from his teeth as he screamed, “Aren’t you going to do something?”
Not real. Not real.And he couldn’t touch me. Wasn’t that what Bolveg said? The catacombs would show me my worst fears in corporeal form. But the visions couldn’t touch me or hurt me.
Drawing a deep breath, I pushed upright and started down the steps.
Serge followed, the shadow of his torchlight bouncing ahead of us. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?” He hurried ahead of me, his voice rising. “You never do anything! You just run. Always running from your problems.”
I bit my tongue before I could argue. Because his accusations were lies. I’d never run from my responsibilities.
Serge kept pace with me as I continued down the steps. When I ignored him, he grew more agitated.
“You failed us! You abandoned the pack!”
Not real.I jogged down the stairs, my gaze on the swelling light.
“Look at me!” Serge screamed. “Look at what you’ve done!”
Out of the corner of my eye, Serge became my father. His gait changed, his steps heavier as he took on my father’s larger build. Blood splashed down the steps.
Not real. Not real.The staircase ended, flowing into a wide corridor piled with skulls. Thousands of them soared on either side of me, their eye sockets dancing with tiny netherlights. The blue orbs blurred as I broke into a run.