group moves inside, instantly swallowed by darkness when the door shuts behind us. I look around, my eyes adjusting to the dark, but Jerif makes a hanging candle come to life, which helps a little.
“Now what?” I say, wiping my free hand on my leather pants to try to dispel some of the nervous sweaty palm situation I have going on.
“Now, we induct you.”
A nervous trill sounds in my eardrums, like my brain is blowing an oh shit horn, but I swallow and nod. “Okay.”
Crux gently moves me to a particular spot, and I look around as the guys form a circle around me. “Where’s the portal? I never got to see it before because I was always on the verge of a panic attack,” I tell them, looking around for the liquid mercury-like surface I saw in the Vestibule and on the portal Tazreel called up for us.
“And you aren’t right now?” Jerif challenges, cocking an arrogant brow.
“No,” I lie with a sassy edge to my tone. “Cool as a motherfucking cucumber.”
He snorts but doesn’t say anything else, and Echo points down. “You’re on it,” he tells me, and my eyes move to the floor.
Squinting, I can see symbols carved into the gray stone, but I can’t see well enough in this lighting to tell what they are.
Iceman lifts his left hand palm-up, and then an icy white fog appears there. It goes from wispy to solid in a blink, and then I’m staring at a dagger made of pure white-blue ice.
“With this ritual, you’ll be bound to protect this portal for the rest of your life. Once it’s complete, the Hellgate will recognize you, allowing you to pass through as a Guardian without issue. The Gate will tap into your essence as a demon and pull from it to fortify itself. That can feel a little weird, but the draw on your power will even out, and you’ll barely notice the leeching unless the Gate is under attack or being breached by unauthorized beings,” he explains.
I nod, somewhat numbly, as the gravity of this hits me.
His blue eyes stay steady on my face. “Are you ready, Maverick?” he asks, probably using my nickname to help me feel lighter in dealing with the heavy weight of responsibility now settling on my shoulders.
My heart races like it wants me to choose flight instead of fight in this situation. But I’m not going to run or deny or ignore anymore. I’m done with all of that. I’m scared, but I’m ready. I won’t let my fellow Guardians down, but more importantly, I’ll never let myself down again by trying to hide from who I know I can be, regardless of how intimidating that is.
“I’m ready,” I say. There’s no turning back now. “I want to help. I want to do this,” I add, feeling the conviction and excitement that’s starting to overpower any nervousness for my newfound purpose.
Iceman blinks, and I see his eyes fill with things I haven’t seen in someone’s gaze since my parents died.
Respect.
He stares at me with proud respect flowing out of his beautiful blue eyes, and my throat gets tight. I nod at him, silently affirming that I want this. I want this life. I want everything that comes with it. I want him, and I want the others too. I may have accidentally claimed them at the dinner party, but I meant it.
With a warm smile and an answering nod, Iceman slices the ice dagger down his own palm and then holds his hand out, palm-down, letting blood droplets fall onto the floor. I watch it, mesmerized.
His essence drips to the ground, where he and his ancestors have given everything to protect it. The dagger gets passed around from him to Echo, Jerif, and Crux, until all four of them have sliced their palms. Their outstretched arms are all pointing in the center toward my body, and their blood steadily hits the floor, each drip punctuated with an unnatural hiss and a sense of honor.
By the time it’s my turn and Crux hands me the blade, my heart is pounding. I take the frozen hilt in my right hand and then hold my left palm up. I hesitate for just a second and then press the sharp tip into my skin with a wince. I drag it quickly across my palm, not letting myself think about it too much. I stare at the line of red as blood beads to the surface and starts to