"Packer!" Mabel cried as she careened into the dry heat of the dungeon, following the lone, flickering light from one cell to find Packer sitting at the far side, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. "Packer!"
"Mabel, what are you doing?" Zephyrine suddenly stood in front of Mabel, her eyebrows raised suspiciously. "You're not supposed to be down here."
But Mabel waved her off, moving around her to address Packer once more. At the final call of his name, Packer's eyes opened, and his head fell forward until he was regarding her quizzically. "Yes, Mabel?"
She set her hands against the bars, her fingers gripping them tightly. "How much human blood did the warlocks need?"
He considered the question for a moment, and then shrugged noncommittally. "Not much to actually start the spell, but they have to more-or-less drain you to finish it."
Uneasiness coiled in Mabel's gut, and she felt the air spark when Zephyrine tensed. No doubt the ala knew where this was going. "And . . . and do they have to use the same human's blood through all of it? They can't get the blood from a different source?"
"No. It has to be a pure human, and once they start, they have to finish within two days. What's all this about?" He pushed himself off the groun, striding to the bars and scrutinizing her carefully. "What are you thinking?"
"Did any of my blood fall when we transported here? I can't remember." She couldn't, but the bile growing in the back of her throat answered her question even before Packer could.
His face paled. Gone was the emotionless mask, replaced by raw fear. He'd tried so hard to save her, and she had no doubt that this small mistake would torture him. "Shit." Packer muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I don't remember, but it would explain why they're on their way, and why they've already gotten stronger. You have to tell Aleron, Mabel." He turned to Zephyrine, whose expression matched his own, "You need to get her out of Hell." His tone was desperate.
"We can't," Zephyrine admitted apologetically, her eyes flickering to Mabel before falling on Packer once more. "Come on, Mabel. Let's try to get you somewhere safe before your stupid luck gets even worse."
While Mabel appreciated Zephyrine's attempt to lighten the situation, she ignored it. "No." She shook her head vehemently, her words firm. "Packer, if they get the spell books, what will happen?"
"They'll gain all their lost knowledge and, with the blood of a human not touched by evil, the ability to rule over Hell, Earth, and possibly Heaven."
Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap!
Don't freak out, idiot—focus.
"Okay, so, my blood gives them power?"
His eyes grew grim, and he leaned even closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "Take a spell, magnify its power by a thousand, and you get the answer. The blood of a pure human is gold here, Mabel. It gives godly abilities to those who don't deserve them."
Mabel's mind spun with all the terrible possibilities, and she wouldn't have snapped out of her inner turmoil had the entire castle not suddenly shaken as though an earthquake had struck.
Zephyrine's eyes narrowed, and she eyed the dust that fell from the bricks above their heads with poorly-hidden dread. "Let's go." In one smooth motion, she had opened Packer's cell door, snatched both him and Mabel by their wrists, and begun to lead them off.
"This isn't going to end well, is it?" Mabel asked no one particular.
The groaning of the brick walls and sudden darkness when the candles went out was answer enough.
***
When the trio emerged in the main hall, Zephyrine actually cursed, and Mabel couldn't blame her.
The place was a disaster.
Robe-clad warlocks were deeply immersed in battle with skeletons in armor and other Hellish creatures, including Aleron, Thora, and Colby. Flyaway spells formed odd clouds in the air, sitting and waiting to be used; the crunching of skeletons' bones added a morbid background song; and the shouts and curses on both sides made hearing nearly impossible.
"I have to help Thora," Zephyrine yelled over the chaos, her eyes honed in on her sister as the other ala whipped her tail against three warlocks. "Get her away from here!" Mabel only realized she'd been addressing Packer when the man snatched her around the waist and dragged her into a small alcove hidden away from the battle.
"We have to help!" Mabel protested, struggling against his grip, kicking her legs out and slapping at his arms. "Packer! Let me go!"
Packer slapped a hand over her mouth to silence her cries, muttering urgently, "We will help, but not like this. We need a plan, Mabel."
A plan. Right.
Pulling his hand from her lips, Mabel nodded in understanding, the fight leaving her body. "Got it. Any ideas?"
Packer's eyes grew faraway. "Do you remember the book they were reading from when they wanted to sacrifice you?"
Mabel wanted to snort; how could she forget? "Yes. What about it?"
Packer looked over his shoulder, as if worried one of the warlocks would pop up and listen in. "That book is one of many Death did not take. He left the warlocks with spell books that contained only good spells; he was unaware that he left a dark book. However, of the books he left, one of them contains a spell that could purge the darkness from the warlocks. Forever. If we get that, we can stop them."
"Wait," Mabel held up a hand to stop him from continuing. "Can't we just . . . I don't know, grab the dark book and shred it or something?"
Packer passed her a look that screamed, Do you honestly think it will be that easy?
No, she didn't, but she could certainly wish it was that easy.
"No. The book can only be destroyed by a leading warlock; I do not have the power to do it, and those who do would sooner kill themselves than harm an ancient book of wicked spells."
"Of-freaking-course." Mabel muttered. "Okay. Do they have the dark book with them here?"
Packer considered the question, and then shook his head. "Not yet, if they are continuing with their original plan. They didn't want to risk Death your Aleron confiscating the book, and so it will be delivered only after the castle is overtaken. His gaze was somber as he added, "We need to find the book that can reverse this, Mabel. It is our only option."
It certainly seemed that way, but Mabel still saw one major hole in his plan. "But it's still in the warlock's territory, isn't it? And I'm guessing that, even though you transported us here, they put up some more barriers, and you can't anymore. Right?"
His miserable sigh was answer enough.
Mabel slapped at her cheeks, as though the action would wake her up from this nightmare. "Of course! Well, this entire situation is crap-tastic. It figures with my luck that we were right next to the book but didn't grab it. Ugh!" her head fall back against the brick, and she released a pained groan.
Packer was silent for a long moment, and then he spoke up, his voice slow and hesitant. "I think . . . if we could get to the edge of the battle, outside the castle and near the plains, we might be able to get there. But we'll have to run like hell," he added sternly, his gaze imploring.
Even with how shitty everything had become, Mabel managed to quirk a grin. "You mean: We'll have to run like we're in Hell. Get it?"
"I might just let you die after all," Packer's expression and tone were blank, but Mabel saw through him, into the little teasing glint of his eyes, and she matched it with her own.
"I'll tell Aleron you said that."
***
Neither Mabel nor Packer were smiling when, upon exiting the alcove, they realized the castle was eerily silent.
Packer muttered in another language under his breath, snatching Mabel's arm and keeping her close to his side as he hustled down the halls. "Stay silent," he muttered, before his lips moved once more. Not in words, though. Instead, small, cloudy grey tendrils dropped from his lips, snaking through the air and surrounding them inside a grey film.
"It won't last," Packer told her softly as they moved soundlessly over the brick, passing other warlocks and fallen skeletons. "But it will get us . . ." he trailed off, his jaw clenching as he spotted something over her shoulder. Mabel tried to spin around and see what was so interesting, but Packer kept her still, one hand still on her arm while the other held her shoulder.
"No," his words were more pressing, now, "don't look. Hurry, Mabel."
A large part of her wanted to peek, but her sensible side told her to trust Packer. He wouldn't have warned her if it wasn't terrible and, while that thought didn't set her at ease, ignorance was sometimes bliss.
But, what if it's Aleron? Her stupid, doubtful, pessimistic mind hissed, What if he's dead, and Packer didn't want you to see?
Shut up. She really hated her mind sometimes.
She was pulled from her thoughts when Packer's entire body tensed, and he pushed her up against the wall, his body caging her in. She wrinkled her nose at his closeness, resisting the urge to comment on how lucky he was that Aleron wasn't nearby.
Except he was. Mabel had to stifle a gasp when she heard a familiar snarl from further down the hall. Peeking over Packer's arm, she saw Aleron being led by a group of five warlocks (they had obviously realized he was a force to be reckoned with), but something was off. For every snapping of his teeth, there was a look of dread and uncertainty. "You're lying!" he spat finally, struggling under the strange purple tentacles that encased his body like rope. "You lie!"
The tallest of the warlocks spun around, inclining his head until his sneer was mere inches from Aleron's furious red eyes. "Would I? How do you think we were able to best your army? A pure human's blood, demon, should not be unguarded." He licked his lips sickeningly. "The power your human gave us was very helpful, let me tell you. It's a shame she was screaming for you the entire time—made it hard to enjoy."
Mabel winced, knowing the explosion was coming, even before it did. Sure enough, Aleron began to curse and struggle even harder, roaring once, "MABEL?!" The magical rope only tightened, and he stumbled under the force, though his eyes were alight with bloodlust. "I will kill you if you have hurt her! I will rip your throat open with my teeth and feed it to you while you are still screaming!"
Ah, there's my darling demon.
The warlock only laughed. "Oh? Will such actions bring back your human?"
The fight left Aleron at the other man's words, but his chest heaved as he tried to kill the warlock with his glare alone. "I will tear you apart and enjoy it."
"We need to sneak by them," Packer interrupted, his voice barely audible, even though he spoke directly into her ear. "Be silent."
He pulled away only slightly, still keeping a tight hold on her, treading carefully by the group. He'd made the mistake of leaving Mabel on the side closest to Aleron, though, and she knew she had to do something. The desperate pain in his eyes, almost entirely hidden by anger, was so reminiscent of the night she'd died that she couldn't bear to see it again.
She'd hurt him enough; she had to give him hope.
The warlocks had seemingly decided that he wouldn't choose to fight back anymore, and left both of his sides unprotected. Packer led them on his right, and Mabel leaned forward just barely, still concealed by the magic, and whispered, "It'll be alright, Al. I'll be back in a bit."
Aleron snapped up like he'd been electrocuted, his eyes gleaming with unbridled joy, before they hardened with resolve. The warlocks immediately noticed the shift in his energy and backed away slowly. Not that it mattered to her demon, of course.
With the words, "Run, Mabel," he threw his head to the side, knocking over one of the warlocks and causing the others to scatter. Mabel would have continued to watch in awe, had it not been for Packer tugging her along.
"We need to go, Mabel," he urged as they neared the Castle's entrance. "The spell will not hold much longer."
He was right, of course. As soon as they marched out into the open, the cloud of grey around them vanished, dissipating entirely and leaving Mabel feeling strangely naked.
"Ah, shit," Packer sighed, and for good reason. The outside of the castle was littered with the bodies of both warlocks and Aleron's skeleton army, but there was still fighting going on. Fighting which ceased as soon as Mabel and Packer appeared. Almost immediately, a warlock and some disgusting creature with the face of a ram and the body of a man were upon them.
Packer shoved Mabel away from him, yelling, "Go, go, go!" even as he turned and began exchanging spells with the other warlock. Which left Mabel with the other creature. They regarded each other for several long beats, and then moved at the same time.
It lunged for her, and she darted out of reach, hopping over bodies, ducking spells, and trying not to cry when she heard its heavy footfalls behind her.
As she ran, she came to an awful realization. Without Packer, she couldn't go anywhere. She didn't have magic, and she wasn't going to be able to get a ride from someone else. But she couldn't stop running either, and so she pushed her legs even harder.
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Oh, crap! She tumbled over a fallen wolf-like being, seeing a flash as the creature chasing her took one final leap, clenching her eyes shut and praying that it wouldn't hurt too much.
Yet, nothing happened.
She couldn't hear anything, save for the frantic beating of her heart, and she counted to ten before opening her eyes, letting out a startled squeak when she did.
The arm of the ram-man-beast-thing disappeared down Flint's throat with a disgusting sliding noise, and the dragon licked his lips, regarding her curiously.
"Hey, uh, Flint," she greeted, standing on shaky legs and letting her gaze wander as she searched for Pele.
"Geez," she grumbled when she found him.
The man who'd betrayed her was lying a hundred feet away, eyes open but unseeing, a gaping sword wound in his chest. Mabel wasn't sure why he'd been at the battle, but she had a strong guess as to who had sliced him open.
Oh, Aleron. Always defending my honor.
Shaking herself of her daze, Mabel eyed Flint, a ridiculously stupid idea forming in her head. "Do you want to go on a trip?" she asked conversationally, taking a cautious step forward.
Flint tilted his head to the side, his eyes no longer staring at her, but at her hand. Mabel followed his gaze down, confused, and let out a laugh when she saw what he was looking at. "Oh, I should have known." She held up her left hand, the shine of Aleron's ring reflected in Flint's greedy eyes.
"If you can't form a bond with a dragon, all ye got to do is give 'em some treasure," Pele's words echoed in her head, and she grinned wickedly.
"Let's go on an adventure, Flint."
***
A/N: Yee-haw! Let's have some more excitement, shall we? Shout-out to Mabel, the dragon-rider. You go girl.
Chapter 12 can be read on my website (link in my profile!) for free with no account. Just, ya know, if you're into that kinda thing . . .
Peace out,
A.R.