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“Then where am I?” I glanced around. If I wasn’t just roaming through my memories, and I wasn’t in Gulakah’s mind, I must have been…where?
“You’re standing on the edge of the Ocean of Anger. You’re in the Netherworld, and you’re looking at one of the strongest forces that keeps ghosts tied to the mortal realm. This body of…emotion…is created by all the residue anger and fury that ghosts bring with them to the Netherworld. And it was Gulakah’s undoing. He began to use it as a personal magical source, and the more he focused on it, the more powerful the angry ghosts became in the mortal world. That’s why he was cast out—he disrupted the balance. But the damage has been done. The energy pool is too powerful, thanks to his meddling, and the balance continues to shift. The ocean feeds too many spirits over on the mortal planes. They, in turn, keep feeding the ocean, creating a synergistic effect.”
I knelt down and touched the liquid with my fingers. Once again, the feelings of terror and powerlessness ran through me, and I glanced at her over my shoulder. “So, my fear?”
“You are corporeal. Your fear is a normal reaction. The angry ghosts thrive on it. So does Gulakah. The ocean that you were lost in? You slipped into his connection to this primal pool of energy. He has found a way to continue to tap into the Ocean of Anger from where he now resides.”
And with that, Pentangle turned and began to walk gently up the shore, the silvery sand shifting as she made her way through it. Her feet were bare, and the edge of her hem trailed along the moist dunes.
“Wait! Why did you show me this?” I started to follow her but found I could not move. My feet were stuck in the sand.
Over her shoulder, without turning around, she said, “Because you needed to know. Do not forget my words. The only way the balance here will be restored is with Gulakah’s defeat.”
And then she vanished. I turned back to the ocean, folding my arms across my chest. So this was the Netherworld. I’d been here before, but never so far in, and I knew that I had to leave this place soon. The living did not fare well here, whether in spirit or body. As I stared out over the sheen, the wind sprang up and buffeted around me, bringing with it the scent of decay, and old arguments, and long-forgotten furies. I blocked them, putting up a shield to keep them from infecting my mood.
Gulakah had long been banished from the Netherworld, and this ocean had been churning all that time. Perhaps this was why there seemed to be so much ghostly activity over Earthside. How long had the balance been disrupted? For centuries, at least. And how many spirits had been trapped, unable to move on, because they’d been caught up by the primal force of anger that kept them bound to the world of the living?
Too many. The words sprang to my thoughts. Too many, and they would only increase until we stopped the Lord of Ghosts. But could we truly kill him? And were we supposed to? Killing a demon general was one thing. But killing a god…that just seemed wrong.
She didn’t say Gulakah’s death…but his defeat.
True, I argued with myself, but what did defeat mean? If we sent him back to the Netherworld, would they just evict him again? If we sent him back to the Subterranean Realms, Shadow Wing would just use him again. If we killed him…then what?
More confused than ever, I decided it was time to leave this place. I sucked in a deep breath, blinked, and opened my eyes.
The bubbles had dissipated, and the water was cooling. I waited for the water to drain out, then turned on the shower and quickly rinsed off the residue soap. As I toweled off and padded back into my room to dress, the thought crossed my mind that we might have met our match in Gulakah.
And then the unwelcome thought intruded that if Gulakah was this strong and he was working for Shadow Wing, just how the hell strong was the Demon Lord himself? And with that cheerful question playing and replaying in my head, I slipped into a calf-length gauze skirt, fastened a plum-colored bustier over the top, and headed downstairs to eat a late lunch and talk to the others.
Chapter 7
Downstairs, I was happy to discover that Iris and Hanna had fixed a buffet of sandwich makings and clam chowder. My stomach rumbled as I fixed a ham on sourdough with Monterey Jack and ladled myself out a big bowl of the soup. As I slid into my chair, I looked at the others.
“I know why the ghostly activity is so strong.” I bit into my sandwich as the others stopped to stare at me.
“Well, are you going to tell us?” Vanzir asked, leaning back in his chair. A sandwich a mile high towered on his plate. I grinned. Vanzir didn’t always eat food—he didn’t need to feed in the same way we did—but now and then he got a hankering for something and he’d vacuum up everything in sight.
“I’m getting around to it,” I said, around a mouthful of food. After I finished chewing and swallowing, I told them what had happened in the bathtub. “So, yes, Gulakah is responsible for the increase in ghostly activity, but it’s not just lately—it’s been since before he was banished from the Netherworld. Which means that it must have been going on a long time here, Earthside.”
“And it’s increased lately because of his actual presence here,” Delilah said. “Pentangle said the only way to restore the balance…”
“Is to defeat him. But Gulakah is a god. How the fuck do we kill a god?” I motioned to Morio. “Pass the salt, please?”
He handed me the shaker, and I sprinkled it in my chowder.
“The gods are not immortal, though far more so than us. He must have some sort of weakness.” Morio leaned back, frowning. “But what is it?”
“His ego?” I shrugged. “He seems to think he’s invincible.”
“But he can’t truly believe that. Charlotine managed to repel him with a spell when we went after him out at the cave. She didn’t hurt him, but she did manage to affect him. That had to sting.” Shade frowned. “No, he’s not stupid—we can’t bank on his ego blinding him. We have to find a way into his inner sanctum.”
“Well, if he is associated with the Aleksais Psychic Network, Camille can go to their psychic fair that takes place on the thirtieth. We found the advertisement this morning.” Delilah slapped the newspaper that we’d gotten at Mystic Charms on the table.
“I’m going to need to disguise myself, though. I can’t go in looking this way or they’ll know who I am.” I frowned. “Iris, do you have any illusion magic that might work on me?”
She frowned. “I think so…we could dye your hair platinum!” Even as I started to protest, she grinned at me. “I know, I know. But I think…Morio, you have some illusion magic, too?”
An idea hit me. I turned to Trillian, who was working on his second sandwich. “My love, remember the talismans you found for us when we first met?”
