“I don’t have time for this.” Amara turned back to the demons, speaking some foul demonic language as she no doubt instructed them to retrieve Caleb.
Each of these horrendous creatures crept toward Caleb, each stretching their clawed hands out to snatch him away.
Panic consumed me. There was nothing I could do, nothing Theodore would do. It was too late. They were going to drag Caleb to Hell.
“Stop,” Theodore roared, carrying a powerful command in his voice.
Every demon froze.
“They will never stop,” Amara snapped. “They require a ruler, a servant. A sacrificial prisoner offering them a taste of magic.”
Perhaps due to the Gate itself or the close proximity to so many demons, Amara’s mind was left unguarded. Her protective magics no longer shielded her thoughts, and I gained a glimmer of her goal for Caleb.
Caleb was meant to be a glass of water in Hell. Not nearly enough to satiate the thirst of billions, but enough for them all to fight over. They’d devour Caleb, drinking down his magical energy until they consumed him entirely. Once dead and gone, he’d restore himself, bound eternally to Hell as its king, but meant to serve forever as substance for the magic-hungry demons.
He’d die a million deaths, suffer a billion agonies, and serve a trillion years. He’d never know peace, freedom, anything.
“Stop her,” I begged.
“Take The True Witch,” Theodore commanded. “Take her to Hell, make her your queen, and ravish her until your world crumbles to ashes.”
In that instance, the demons sprang on Amara, ripping at her flesh, stabbing deep into her body. She thrashed and screeched and cast countless spells.
It made no difference. These demons were the elite lords of Hell. They resisted her magic, tearing into her, biting and beating her.
They dragged Amara toward the Gate. She screamed and wailed and reached out for Theodore, for Tara, for anyone.
“You will regret this, Theodore!” Amara bellowed, fighting against the demons who pulled her through the black pit of tar. “You think Hell can hold me? Nothing can contain my glory! I will drag myself back and break you into a thousand pieces! I will make you beg for death! You will be an obedient boy. When I’m done with—”
With that, Amara sank through the tar entirely. In a matter of seconds, that bubbling liquid hardened, and the Gate of Hell sealed again.
Caleb quaked, staring at the flames on the rounded pillars flicker out one by one as the Gate closed entirely. “Is she…is she dead?”
“Lord, I hope not.” Theodore knelt beside Caleb. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she got off that easily, right, Tater Tot?”
Caleb cringed at Theodore’s gentle touch. He brushed the back of his hand against Caleb’s cheek, running his knuckles along his collarbone.
“I remember trying to kill you once.” Theodore smiled. “You know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed.”
Theodore wrapped his hands around Caleb’s throat and squeezed.
“Stop,” I shouted to no avail.
“What makes you so special, Tate Whitlock?” Theodore straddled Caleb, sitting on top of the boy as he thrashed in place, unable to fight back with his hands bound. “Huh, Tater Tot? Why did Father go out of his way to make sure you were shielded from Mommy’s wrath? He never protected me from my destiny. Never protected Tragic Tara. Why you?”
Caleb gasped, struggling to breathe as his face turned red. His thoughts blurred, dizzying as he lost consciousness.
Tara slammed against her barrier even harder, begging and screaming for Theodore to stop.
“I said stop,” I screamed, rattling the trunk of the gnarled tree containing me.
The bark splintered and cracked. Not enough to escape, but enough to draw Theodore’s attention.
He released Caleb, who wheezed and panted beneath Theodore.
Tara calmed herself, staring at Caleb with concern.
“Well, well, well…” Theodore ran his hands through his hair, smiling. “I do so love an assertive psychic.”
