Tear Down Heaven: Urban Fantasy Action with Witches and Demons, page 38
Homes change, Drox replied in a wistful voice. Other than the Queen of Pride and the people of Wrath who were trapped in Limbo, none of the demons alive today are old enough to know what Paradise looked like, including yourself. Even those who do remember it wouldn’t recognize it now. If you ask me, this jungle is worse than the Goddeath Wastes. At least Gilgamesh’s desert didn’t have predators.
Bex did see some big shapes moving through the forest now that Drox pointed them out. Just thinking about that on top of everything else made her want to cry, but she couldn’t give up on this. She’d never given up on anything when it came to her people, but—
You’re not giving up, Drox said. You’re choosing the better path and the strategically stronger one. Nothing undermines a queen’s stability like starvation and dissatisfaction. Even your faithful Lysanae would object if you asked them to live in a foodless jungle over a land of plenty like Seattle purely for the sake of tradition.
He was right. Lys would hate the crap out of that jungle no matter what Bex called it, and funny enough, the image of their horrified face was what changed her mind. Lys was the one who’d been saying Bex would take them home to Paradise longer than anyone else. If even they wouldn’t want to return to a place like this, then that was the end of it.
Wise choice, my queen, her sword said. I’m sure your people will appreciate you bending on this matter.
Bex was certain they would. Even pious old Zargrexa would balk if Bex told her she was moving the wrath demons, who’d already suffered so many years of starvation, to somewhere that didn’t even have a river. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single demon who’d call the jungle below them Paradise.
That made her feel better about her choice than anything else yet, and she turned to the Morrigan with a smile.
“If any of my people really want to return to our ancestral home, I hope you’ll allow them into your jungle,” she said. “In exchange, I’m willing to officially relinquish our claim on the former Riverlands of Paradise to the Witches of Blackwood. Is that acceptable?”
“Quite,” the Morrigan said, giving Bex a sharp-toothed grin. “It’s gratifying to know our victory won’t be marred by an ugly territorial fight. If you give up your lands to the wilds peacefully, I promise to welcome all demons beneath my trees. Just be sure your people understand that permission to live here is not the same as guaranteeing their safety.” Her grin grew wider. “The forest does not coddle the weak.”
“I’ll pass that along,” Bex promised. “I don’t think anyone will actually take me up on the offer, but I wanted to give them a choice. My demons have been forced to obey other people’s whims for far too long. I want the decision of where to live to be in their hands, not mine. All I’ve ever wanted is for them to be free.”
The words rolled so easily off her tongue that Bex didn’t realize the full implication of what she’d just said until several seconds later.
Her people were free. Paradise might not be a paradise anymore, but that was just semantics. Whatever land the demons called home from this day forward, Gilgamesh was dead and the gods were gone. There’d be no more quintessence or divine edicts after today, nothing that could force her people to do or say or be anything they didn’t want to. Until the other queens woke up, there was no one except Bex left who could make them bow, which meant…
“It’s over,” she whispered, staggering into Adrian so hard she almost knocked them both over. “The war is over. We won. We’re free!”
She broke down totally after that, laughing and sobbing at the same time as she grabbed Adrian and spun him around in a fit of pure joy. She was so happy she felt sick and so relieved that she felt drunk. The heady combination pushed every other thought away, so Bex wasn’t surprised when she finally emerged from her victory-induced delirium to discover it was just her and Adrian sitting alone on top of the Morrigan’s invisible window above the forest.
“Hey,” he said, pulling her tight against his side. “Have you finally come down?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever come down from this,” Bex said, looking around the quintessence tank, which they were still technically sitting at the bottom of. “Where’d everybody go?”
“My family went back to the Blackwood to finish up Gilgamesh’s army, the Morrigan is off inspecting her new forest, and Boston decided to go exploring with Bran,” he informed her before his face fell into a scowl. “I should probably go check on those last two, actually. They’ve been gone for quite a while.”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Bex said, settling her head back against his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m sure everything’s fine and nothing will ever be wrong again.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust your addled judgement,” Adrian said, adjusting her position slightly so that her horns wouldn’t stab him in the face. Her two horns.
“Wait,” Bex said, sitting back up as she jerked her hands to her head. “What happened to my horns?”
“I was going to talk to you about that when you were more coherent,” Adrian said as he reached sheepishly into his coat. “But while you were busy processing all the emotions caused by nearly dying multiple times, the loss of your gods, and achieving the single driving ambition of all your lifetimes, they sort of… fell off.”
“They fell off?” Bex repeated, gaping in horror as Adrian handed her the four long black horns he’d pulled out of his enchanted pockets.
“I don’t… I can’t… why did this happen?” Bex stuttered as she took them. “I’ve never heard of any demon’s horns just falling off. What does it mean? Did I do something wrong?”
She was terrified it was because she’d given up their claim on Paradise. As always, though, Drox was there with the practical explanation.
They fell off because you kept your promise, her sword told her calmly. You said it yourself: Your demons put that crown on your head so that you could defeat Gilgamesh, and you did. All the tyrants are gone and your people are free, which means there’s no more need for you to keep weighing yourself down with such heavy burdens.
His black ring turned on her finger to bump against the four black horns Bex was clutching to her chest.
Your duty is completed, Bex of the Bonfire, Blade of Her People. Rest now from your labors and enjoy the peace your dedication has earned.
Drox’s voice went silent then, leaving Bex alone in her head. She was still processing it all when Adrian leaned over to peek at her lowered face.
“You were just talking to your sword, right? What did he say?”
“He said I’m done,” Bex whispered, moving the four shed horns to her left hand so she could reach up and touch the two she still had with her right.
It felt like stepping back in time. The two horns she hadn’t lost were at her temples, in the exact same position as her original pair, but that wasn’t where the similarities stopped. They had the same curve, the same ridges, even the same weight as the ones the Queen of War had ripped off her head. The only difference was that she didn’t feel them pushing down when she thought the name Rebexa. These were still her new crown, Bex’s horns. Otherwise, everything felt the same as it had the evening Adrian pulled her out of his bonfire. No fear-demon scales or war-demon bronze appeared on her arm when she clenched her fist, either, and Bex’s lips curled into a smile.
“Huh,” she said as she lowered her hand. “Looks like I’m back to being just the Queen of Wrath again.”
“Is that a good thing?” Adrian asked nervously.
“It’s fantastic,” Bex assured him, handing her horns back to Adrian since the leggings she was wearing didn’t have pockets. “All that power and responsibility was a pain in the neck, and my people deserve to make their own decisions for once. They just got free of Gilgamesh’s warlocks. The last thing they need is a queen bossing them around.”
“You deserve a break from them as well,” Adrian said as his lips curved into a sly smile. “You know, if you’re looking for something to do with all your new free time, I happen to be acquainted with a witch who’d love to take you on a very extensive, very leisurely tour of all the interesting things to do in Seattle.”
Bex smiled back. “Do you, now?”
“He desperately needs your help,” Adrian told her gravely. “He’s terrible at doing fun things by himself. I mean, he’s lived in Seattle all summer, and he’s only visited one brewery, one tourist-trap restaurant, and one boba tea shop. That’s pathetic.”
“That just means he’s got a lot left to explore,” Bex said, scooting closer. “How soon would this witch like to start?”
“The moment you’re ready,” Adrian replied, offering her his hand with a flourish. “Just say the word, and I’ll fly us to dinner right now.”
Bex’s stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of dinner. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d eaten real food. She was so hungry right now that any edible substance sounded like heaven, especially if she got to eat it with Adrian, but…
“Are you sure we can?” she asked nervously. “What about the battle for the Blackwood?”
“What about it?” Adrian asked with a shrug. “The main grove’s got the Three Old Wives, the bull of Ishtar, my entire coven, and half a million demons fighting against an army of coddled cowards who’ve just learned their god-king has been defeated and their magic’s about to be toast. I’m pretty sure it can survive our absence. I, however, will perish right here on this spot if I don’t take you out for pizza in the next five minutes.”
“I definitely don’t want you to die after all that trouble,” Bex said, laughing as she grabbed his hand. “And I love pizza.”
Adrian pulled her to her feet with a grin, pausing just long enough to kiss her on the cheek before whirling around to yell for Boston to come back so they could go get dinner.
EPILOGUE
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Six weeks later.
“AND THAT ABOUT WRAPS it up for us,” said the old hate demon who ran the new demon community in Atlanta. “The Ponce Anchor Market finally collapsed last week due to lack of quintessence, but we’d already picked it down to the floorboards, so it wasn’t a loss. Between those goods and the gold we stripped off Gilgamesh’s palace, our budget’s set for the foreseeable future.”
“Good work,” Bex said, holding her two remaining horns high as she smiled at the grid of horned, fanged faces that’d shown up for her weekly video call with demon leaders from the southern US. “Thank you, everyone. for your hard work and for keeping me informed. We’ll do this again same time next week. If you have any problems before then, send a message to Lys, and we’ll get right back to you.”
“Great queen,” the demons all said, bowing their horns before everyone switched off their cameras and left the video call, leaving Bex sitting alone at her desk in the new client-suite-turned-office-turned-smoking-crater-turned-back-to-office at the nose of their Winnebago.
Honestly, the repair was a huge improvement. Their old RV had been overdue for a renovation even before Heaven’s attack on the Seattle Anchor pulverized it. She’d worried it couldn’t be saved at all now that quintessence was rarer than sunshine in a Seattle January, but that was before Leander had stepped up and offered to help. Not only was he a kick-ass sorcerer, as the only surviving white-blooded prince, he was also the last remaining source of quintessence in the entire world.
That gave him the power and the skills to do a lot more than RV repair, but he’d still done an incredible job. He’d put their whole home back together and then some, adding more power to the engine and more space to the inside, including an office expansion that gave them enough room for Bex, Lys, and Iggs to all have their own desks.
They certainly needed them. Bex might not be the official Queen of All Demons anymore, but she was still the only one all the newly freed factions could agree to listen to. After the fall of Paradise and the defeat of Heaven’s final army at the Blackwood, the demon population had scattered to the four winds. This was partially due to practical concerns—with no more access to the Rivers of Death, everyone had to eat emotions straight from humans, and too many demons feeding off one population quickly led to problems—but an equally big part of it was freedom.
Now that they were free to go anywhere, anywhere was where they went, scattering all over the globe in search of new food, new opportunities, and a chance to finally get away from each other after the horrific overcrowding of the Hells. There were still a few teams of former slaves who’d become trench buddies after centuries of working together under a warlock, but the vast majority of demonkind seemed to want to get as far from anything involving their old life as possible.
The diaspora made it harder to keep tabs on everyone, but Bex didn’t care. That freedom was the entire reason she’d done this. She wanted her people to run off and enjoy their new lives, especially since modern technology made getting resources to demons who needed them easy even when they were on the other side of the planet. The number of video meetings was already decreasing as everyone settled into their new homes. Case in point, Bex didn’t have anything on her schedule for the rest of the afternoon, which meant she was finally free to get out of this damn chair.
Rising with a stretch that didn’t get anywhere near the office’s new arched ceiling, Bex grabbed her new leather jacket—a present from Adrian, who’d made it himself—off the wall hook and made her way out the door. In the RV’s old configuration, this would’ve put her in the hallway on the crew level, but Leander had expanded more than just the office. The lower floor of their RV had been completely gutted and redone into a hospital wing for the sleeping queens.
Nemini was with them as always, sitting in her new recliner with her eyes closed. She spent eight hours a day like that, searching through the darkness as she called out for their lost sisters, but her yellow eyes opened when Bex came over.
“Any luck?”
“Luck is just a projection of our personal wants upon the infinitely unpredictable cosmos,” the Queen of Pride reminded her. “Our sisters have been lost in an infinite void for five thousand years. Even with their names returned, it would be extremely unlikely for me to find them so soon.”
“I wish I could’ve saved their swords,” Bex grumbled. “I found their hands when I searched Gilgamesh’s workshop, but their rings had already been turned to ash.” She heaved a furious sigh. “It’s my fault. If I’d just remembered to go back sooner instead of having a joy-induced meltdown, I could’ve saved them and given you some help.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Nemini assured her, reaching up to touch the nest of snakes snoozing on her head. “From what you’ve said about Gilgamesh’s setup, he chose his fuel well. Once they get going, nothing can extinguish Enki’s sparks of creation. Even if you’d removed the rings the moment you laid eyes on them, they still would’ve burned to ash.”
So she kept saying, but that didn’t stop Bex from feeling guilty as she turned to look at the only bed in the big new room that was separated from the others by a curtain.
It was Mara’s bed, and Leander was sitting beside it as usual. The Queen of Sorrow still hadn’t budged—she never moved except to breathe—but she was looking much better with her huge, downward-pointing crown of horns back on her head and her right hand reattached to her wrist. Bex was certain she would’ve looked even better with her ring, but the sight still gave her hope.
“They’ll come back,” she said, more for herself than Nemini. “And we’ll be waiting. Even if it takes another five thousand years, we’ll be here to welcome them home.”
“Five thousand years is longer than you think,” Nemini warned as her eyes slid closed again. “But I hope you’re right.”
Bex was certain she would be. She had no idea how long her life would last now that she was filled with the fires of life instead of Ishtar’s wrath, but her flames were far from out. She’d hold on until her sisters found their way home, and then she’d explain to them in person exactly how things had ended up this way. After all they’d been through, it was the least she could do.
She just wished they were all there. Leander had designed it to look palatial, but the queens’ recovery room still had only six beds. Bex and Nemini didn’t need spots, of course, but despite promising that she’d look, the Morrigan had yet to turn up any sign of the Queen of War’s body. Not that a traitor like her deserved to lie here with the rest of them, but Bex still felt bad about leaving her behind, especially given how terrifying the Morrigan’s new jungle was becoming.
As Bex had predicted, none of her demons had wanted to move there. A few adventurous souls had visited the new Blackwood just for a chance to see Paradise with their own eyes, but every one of them had come racing back through the roots with stories about a nightmare jungle that sounded like a haunted version of the Amazon on steroids. Bex was happier than ever that she’d decided not to take her people back there, but she still felt bad about leaving War’s body behind to rot. Still, her sister was strong and stubborn. She’d turn up eventually, Bex was sure of it. Meanwhile, she had other, much more pleasant things to look forward to.
Speaking of which, it was getting close to dinnertime. Adrian had said something about getting sushi. Bex had never tried sushi, but he swore raw fish was the best fish, and her witch hadn’t led her wrong yet when it came to food. He hadn’t led her wrong, period, which was enough to make Bex grin as she left Nemini to her meditation and started toward the stairs. She’d just begun climbing up the steep spiral that led to the RV’s main floor when a man’s voice called her name.
“Queen of Wrath.”
Bex looked back over her shoulder and saw Leander standing at the foot of the stairs. The prince was looking much better these days. Not that it’d be hard to look better than the skeleton he’d been when she’d pulled him out of the Lowest Hells, but the healthy man standing behind her was an improvement even over the gaunt prince he’d been when Bex had first seen him on the street behind Pike Place Market. He’d put on weight, cut his dark hair, even gotten himself some new clothes—boring, severe clothes that made him look like a lawyer, but still an enormous step up from the haunted man in dirty white pajamas who’d helped her and Adrian storm Gilgamesh’s tower.
