hear him make it again so she kissed him harder, put more of herself into it and tried to tell him everything she wanted to say with a single kiss. This was her moment with Xan, just in case. Just in case her plan didn’t work.
Yeah, it was a reckless plan, but wasn’t that what Queen Isolde had said about her? Something about how Donna was unpredictable. Chaotic. Something about a death wish. Fine, she thought. Let me hold tightly to all of that and use it.
She pulled away from Xan and looked once more into his now-glowing eyes. Their inhuman inner light shone viridian-bright and she tried to smile. Turning her back on him, Donna walked to the center of the room.
Xan looked ready for action, but she refused to involve anyone else in this hopeless quest. Not any more. She was still missing two of the ingredients needed to make the Stone, and it was time to do something about it. She knew what she had to do. Of course, knowing it and doing it were completely different things, but she had to try. There wasn’t anything else left.
She was done playing nice. Now she was playing for keeps.
Donna felt something new shift inside her. It was like a creature unfolding its wings in her heart, testing them for strength before venturing into the sky. A little like Xan and his quest for wings … but maybe she could find her own somewhere deep within.
Her fingers curled around the hilt of the Ouroboros Blade, where she had slipped it inside her coat pocket. She was glad for her gloves. Glad that she didn’t have to feel the tug on her soul as her fingers gripped the cold, carved bone.
Maker tried to get out of his chair.
Demian moved toward her as she whipped out the blade, but he was too late. They all were.
Donna wrapped her other hand around the hilt, lacing her fingers together for a better grip, and plunged the wicked black blade deep into her gut. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips as she fell to her knees.
If she had to die to save the world, then that’s what she would do. She could only hoped that she survived it.
The first thing she felt was pain.
And then there was nothing.
Twenty
Donna fell.
A rush of air cold enough to make my teeth hurt.
The sound of wings.
A kaleidoscope of color circling around me like a halo.
She tried to process all these things as the world moved—or perhaps she was the one moving—and she arrived back on solid ground.
Here, at the entrance to the Otherworld, everything was blanketed by a blue-gray mist that wound around and above the jagged treetops. The smell of sulphur hit her hard, along with a spicy mixture of decay and burnt flesh.
This was no special effect. This was real.
Donna lay on the hard earth beneath twisted trees. Every muscle in her body hurt. How could she be so tired? She looked up at the few remaining dead trees that trailed jagged branches above her face. She took an experimental breath, wondering if it was still necessary to breathe in the Underworld.
“Aren’t I dead?” she wondered aloud.
“You’re not dead yet, little alchemist,” an amused voice replied.
Donna rolled onto her side, her heart pounding. “Newton?”
Newton stepped forward, still in Nav’s body, and offered her his hand. Donna didn’t hesitate, allowing him to help her up onto her feet.
She frowned. Something wasn’t right. Well, apart from the fact that she was in the Otherworld. Then she realized what it was.
“My hands hurt.” She automatically went to pull off her gloves, but realized that she wasn’t wearing them any more. “Oh.” Donna frowned, watching her tattoos glittering in the sickly yellow light. She swallowed. “What’s wrong with the sky?”
Newton shrugged. “Nothing. It’s the sun making it look like this.”
“Hell has a sun?”
“The Otherworld sun is made of iron,” he replied, as though it should be obvious.
“How can the sun be made out of iron?” Donna turned around, trying to take in her surroundings.
“The Demon King manifests a vision of Hell that he finds the most … comfortable. Demian has always been fascinated by the Aztecs. He probably stole the iron sun from them. You don’t expect demons to be original, do you?” Newton leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Our lord and master has always lacked imagination, you know.”
Donna shook her head. It was crazy. She was in Hell, talking to a demon walking