Then she drank.
Darkness rushed into her, filled her, and then came light. Bright white light that cut her in half and made her scream. Her arms felt as though they might shatter, and her heart wanted to do the same. Wind stormed and howled like its own kind of demonic force, blasting back her hair, making her face hurt and her eyes stream. The trees tilted at strange angles and she heard the crack of branches.
Then the whole world went silent, and she realized she was lying on the ground.
Beside her, inside the circle, there it was. The Stone.
The Philosopher’s Stone. She got to her knees and touched it, reverently, forgetting everything around her, just for a moment reveling in the feel of smooth stone beneath her fingers, the pulse of heat she could feel slowly spreading from its center. It was a warm shade of reddish-brown, and egg-shaped—it fitted perfectly in her palm. As though it were made for her. For her and nobody else.
Maker’s eyes shone as he sat beside her.
Demian tried to cross the barrier, fury pouring off him in almost palpable waves. He hammered against the air with his fists, but Donna’s circle held.
“Come out, alchemist,” he screamed. “Come and out and face me!”
Donna’s head jerked up. “You can huff and puff all you like, Your Majesty,” she replied. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay right here.”
“You can’t stay in there forever, Donna,” Demian said. “Nor you, old man.”
Maker smiled a determined sort of smile. He wheeled his chair out of the circle. “I don’t intend to, demon.”
“No!” Donna ran to follow him, but stopped herself just in time as she reached the barrier.
Demian’s coal-black eyes seemed to glow as he grabbed the ageing alchemist by the throat and lifted him, one-handed, from his chair.
“Open the circle,” he demanded, his voice like thunder.
Maker was choking, his face growing red, but his eyes held triumph. “I can’t. The circle is hers. How else do you think I could leave it without it breaking?”
“Let him go,” Donna said, her voice quivering. Terror made it difficult to speak. She had the Philosopher’s Stone, but what good was that doing now?
Maker turned his head toward her. “Use the Stone, Donna. Use it to—”
“Quiet, little man!” Demian roared, tossing the alchemist away like he was nothing but an oversized ragdoll. Maker bounced against a tree, and there was a sickening noise as he fell to the ground and lay still.
Donna screamed, facing the Demon King across the barrier.
Demian placed both palms against the transparent wall formed by her circle. His hands exploded with black light, the strength of it making her shield her eyes. Everything turned into a sort of photo-negative … Demian was using his power to tear down her protective wards.
“Give me the Stone!” he bellowed.
“Never!” Donna shouted. Had he really thought that she’d just hand it over? Demian, Aliette—they were all the same. Blinded by their greed, their wants, so much so that they couldn’t figure out that Donna Underwood wasn’t about to follow their orders quite so easily. She’d learned a few things while training to be an alchemist, after all—and maybe the Stone was her greatest weapon. Why give it up now?
She licked her lips, wondering if it would work. Wondering if the demon’s desire for the Stone would be enough to distract him for a few moments more. Now was the time to find out.
She took a step back, exiting out of the other side of the circle so that the wide ring of salt stood between them. Then she held the Philosopher’s Stone up toward Demian as bait. His eyes widened in desire, and then in triumph, as he gazed at the prize. Eagerly, he stepped toward her—and into the circle.
The moment he did that, Donna crouched down, still clutching the Stone, and touched a small section of the salt. Her tattoos were moving so violently she thought she might throw up, but she managed to hold everything together as she remembered Robert Lee, surrounded by shadows, in this place in another time. She shouted, “Lux !”
White light poured upward from the salt circle, forming a whirling barrier around the Demon King. A king who was now trapped inside a solid ring of first matter energy. Donna wondered if it would be enough to hold him, at least temporarily.
Demian roared his fury. “What did you do to me?”
“Restrained you, Your Majesty,” Donna replied, staggering to her feet but barely able