Five † Get Smoked

Kat's go-to principle in life is to keep fighting. Keep struggling. She always told herself that if she'd go down, she'd go down swinging.

She tried to stay true to that now, with the blade of Calix's spear pointed at her throat. Oh, she was scared, but there was no way she'd just give up.

Calix felt her need, her fear, but forced himself to hold his position. He didn't want to care. He shouldn't. He was bound by duty, not compassion and kindness. Sure, the thought of taking a life this way went against all his morals, but he couldn't really back out now, could he? The mortal woman in front of him was dangerous. She was unstable. He'd hold on to that and console himself with it. It was his existence on the line here too. If he couldn't finish the job, he would be ridiculed for millenia, punished like a mere mortal.

I have been entrusted with this, he told himself again as he stared at Kat's pale face. I cannot fail.

Doing his best to ignore his dilemma, he tried to push the spear into her neck, watching the tip bend her delicate skin. . . .

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't kill her. Finding her dead—that he could stomach. But doing the deed himself?

Calix started to lower his weapon. "I am giving you one chance—"

Kat raised a hand and pushed the blade of the spear away from her neck.

The sharp tip grazed her skin and left a shallow gash, but this wasn't what stole her breath. The thing that made her freeze was when the tip snapped off upon contact with her hand. The rest of the blade followed, shattering and crumbling into useless shards of silver. Next came the handle, which turned into dust in Calix's palms, blown away by nonexistent wind until there was nothing.

His aghast expression would've been quite funny under less deadly circumstances, but it was still pretty priceless.

The dust particles and tiny shards rained on Kat's chest and lap. Since she'd been tensing her diaphragm in anticipation for the pain, she found herself drawing a relieved breath.

And that's when something even weirder happened.

Black mist started to come out of Calix's parted lips. It was thin at first, more of a haze, but then it thickened to the consistency of firewood smoke. The sight of it swirling and shifting midair shocked Kat enough to make her stagger back and fall almost flat. However, he didn't immediately drag her into place like she expected. Instead, his hands flew to his own neck, fumbling and patting, his eyes wide with pure shock. His breathing became ragged, like the air was turning poisonous and he'd just taken in a deadly dose.

For a second Kat thought that he was choking on the black smoke, but the more she gaped at him, the more she understood what was really happening.

Calix wasn't trying to get rid of the smoke. He was trying to keep it in, because the smoke that escaped him was seeping towards Kat.

She hastily skidded back, her hands clenched, her dirty skirt leaving streaks on the marble floor. She was determined to see this to the end, as in go as far away as possible, but she collided against the unyielding foot of the table and it stopped her from leaving.

It was too late anyway.

The shadowy tendrils latched onto her mouth, and her body sucked them right in. Instantly, a pressing, cold sensation filled her gut, and it was ten times colder than anything she'd ever felt. It went down her throat and into her stomach like dry ice cubes. Her necklace reacted as well, taking on a freakishly freezing temperature. The back of the pendant seemed to be digging into her chest, scalding in its coldness. Her tailbone, which had gotten the blunt force of her fall inside this strange room, stopped hurting. Her vision cleared. The gash on her neck vanished. Even her nausea vanished. The smoke basically healed her in a blink.

The realization made her gasp again, which was a mistake. More smoke snuck into her system, this time not only through her mouth. Some of the stuff went right through her nostrils, her eyes, her ears, her very pores. . . .

The same thing seemed to be happening to Calix, but in reverse. His body was expelling the smoke, and the process looked extremely painful. His face was scrunched up. Different emotions were flashing in his gray eyes. Fear, shock, despair. He was slowly sinking into his knees now, his movements getting increasingly labored.

This was sapping his energy, Kat thought, but it's doing the opposite to her.

As the moments passed, she started to feel stronger and stronger. Unstoppable, even. Invincible.

She wasn't sure if she liked the feeling.

In a foolish and desperate attempt to stop this fucked-up transfer, Kat swatted the thick haze away. The dark swirls didn't scatter in contact like ordinary smoke. In fact, her hands absorbed them right up until there was no more.

"Shit," she managed to croak.

And shit was the perfect word—for her mixed feelings, for the downward spiral of Calix's energy, for the whole shenanigans that had transpired before her eyes.

But it still wasn't over.

Before she could even begin to process the earlier events, a loud rumbling sound echoed in the room. She thought that the source was her stomach, but it wasn't. The noise was coming from behind one of the gilded walls, particularly at the side where the candles were concentrated. Accompanying the rumbling was a lot of slamming and scratching.

All the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. Calix never ran out of tricks, did he?

"Stop," she snapped at him. "I don't know what I did, okay? Stop it!"

He tuned his hazy gaze on her. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me! Just stop!"

He opened his mouth to retort, but the orchestra of creepy noises started to get louder and more violent, stopping him short. This time, the golden ornaments started to quiver, the candle flames flickering in response. Bits of the paintings came off the domed ceiling and rained down on them.

Panic was now squeezing Kat's stomach. "Stop it, I'm serious! I'm sorry if I—"

"This is not my doing! You have taken my—" Calix caught himself and sighed. "I do not think I have the ability. Not anymore."

What on earth was he yapping about now? She didn't have the time nor the patience to find out. It was high time to bail.

But then, even the floor started to shake. The entire room seemed to groan. She found herself scampering over to Calix, not to cop a feel, but to hide from whatever this thing banging against every surface of the room.

"What's in there?" She was shaking. "What's out there?"

"Demons." He spat out the word with a scowl. "Not the little red schnitzels you humans love to put it your films. These creatures are restless spirits, guardians of this room, which is the bridge between Hell and the mortal world. They could sense when a soul is staying too long inside."

The ruckus intensified, like the Demons were agreeing with him.

Simply because she couldn't help it, Kat let out an undignified squeak and a flinch. More debris fell from the ceiling. In a seemingly automatic gesture, Calix put his arm around her shoulders, his hand on her head, to shield her from the stone bits.

Great. Now she was scared, confused, and extremely flustered.

The mere act of looking around the room seemed to tire him, and yet he seemed so keen to protect her. Even as he almost stumbled forward, he kept holding her close to him. He was tensed—or as tensed as his remaining energy allowed—as though he was preparing for a fight.

Oh, God. Was he planning to face these creatures? Was he waiting for them to break in?

Kat pushed him off her. "What are you trying to do? Get us out of here!"

"I cannot," he said in a low voice. "I have failed, and I must face the consequences." He glanced at her meaningfully. "They will finish the task for me."

Wait. He wanted these Demons to take her?

Her heart started to hammer in her chest, and if it beat any harder it would give her a cardiac arrest. Or maybe poke a hole in her ribcage. Or maybe even both. Either way, she ignored it. She grabbed Calix's wrist and managed to pull him to the spot where he'd made the door disappear.

Instantly, a rectangular outline—the shape of the original bedroom door—appeared on the surface of the wall. It was barely noticeable at first, just an imprint. Then the image of it grew sharper and sharper until she could see the touch of the late afternoon light peering through the cracks at the sides.

The door was back. And Calix was still purposefully ignoring it.

Kat wanted to kick him in frustration. "Get me out! Now!"

His hairdo fell apart as his head drooped forward, causing his platinum blond locks to cover most of his face. "I cannot."

"Just do it!" Kat's voice rose in panic as a new boom erupted in the room. "I'm not going to die here."

"You will not." He very nearly toppled forward, but he held onto her shoulders and basically used her body for support. "They will only take you to your trial. I will not let them hurt you."

If his words were meant to assure her, they failed miserably. His breathing was still pretty shallow, his eyes partially closed. He was paler than before, and that was saying a lot, since he already had a gorgeous porcelain complexion. The absolute fruit loop of a guy looked beat. He wouldn't be able to defend her against a mosquito, much less a group of monsters.

Gritting her teeth, she prompted him forward. He still wouldn't budge.

"What are you waiting for?" Kat barked. "Let's go!"

"I cannot," he said again.

"Of course you can!" She gestured at the door. "It's right there! Just fucking open it!"

That seemed to snap some sense right into him. Even though he was still swaying in his spot like one of those drunkards gracing The Strip at the buttcrack of dawn, he looked up at her. His eyes were alive, alert. A couple of expressions ran through his face. Suspicion, confusion, and then thoughtfulness. He froze, his mouth falling open, his gaze switching from her to the door. "You see it?"

Jesus, she didn't have time for this charade.

With her annoyance reaching exponential levels, she tried to open the door herself, but the doorknob passed right through her hand like it was made of smoke. She tried again, but she couldn't grasp it, which meant that he was the only one who could do so.

Why must freedom be this hard to achieve? Why must her fate rest on the hands of some gobsmacked guy who was still gaping at her, showing no desire to act at all?

"The door, you dolt, open it." Kat impatiently snatched Calix's hand and put it against the surface of the door. His palm smacked right on the wood. "Go on. Open it."

He withdrew his hand. "How?"

The question hit her like an uppercut. Of all the games people came up with, playing dumb was her least favorite. Especially now, when her life was on the line and the only one who could get her out of the situation was still pretending to be ignorant. He was also on the verge of passing out. She couldn't believe her luck right now.

Kat inhaled sharply, tried to control her temper, and led his hand again. This time, she put it on the knob itself. The metal clicked. Frost started to build around it. She could feel his magic working on the entire structure. She knew that once he opened it, she would find herself back at the apartment.

However, it seemed that he had no plans of seeing it through, even with growing intensity of the noise around them.

"What magic have you been tampering with?" Calix asked, looking panicked now. "What are you? A sorceress?"

"Shut up and just do it!" Kat yelled.

"I cannot!" he yelled back. Then he promptly collapsed on his knees.

The entire room was shaking now. Pictures of apartment B3 raced in her mind, taunting and tempting her until she wanted to pluck all her hair out.

She had to go back. No matter what.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she concentrated on the door and reached out to touch the knob. Her hand still couldn't make contact.

"You cannot leave," Calix told her, but his voice was barely audible. "Once you go through that door, you are subjecting yourself to a heavier punishment, years and years of torture and torment."

"I don't care." She tried again. Failed. "I refuse to die now."

Calix exhaled sharply and gripped her hand. She pried his hands off, but his touch was still firm, especially considering that he was unable to stand. Apparently, he still had the strength. Also, judging by that tautness in his face, he was also as determined as she was. If not more.

It was a shame he was using this determination to be a coward.

"Do not do this," he said gravely. "Do not try."

"That's something you can never ask from me." She fought against his grip. "If you don't want to try, then fine, but I will."

"You are asking for trouble."

"Let go of me."

"No."

Kat turned, prepared to kick him if necessary, but his face disarmed her completely. He looked vulnerable, confused, and completely concerned for her wellbeing.

"Please," he whispered. "You are setting in motion a series of events that you cannot handle."

Kat studied him. He was being honest, if you could believe that. He seriously thought that keeping her here was a form of help, that it was something to be done out of concern. She didn't know whether to be impressed or disgusted with this whole display.

Calix shook his head. "I am trying to help you."

She took note of the hand he'd just put on her arm. "I know."

Moving with surprising speed, Kat snatched his hand and put it against the doorknob. Sure enough, the thing didn't pass through his fingers. The faded brass mechanism immediately got covered in a thin layer of frost. Before he could realize what she was trying to do, she put her hand on his and turned the doorknob.

Just as a section of the wall crumbled down, the door swung open.

Calix made a wild grab at Kat, his fingers locked around her arm like a vice as she swerved outside the room. She tried to shrug him off, to push him away so she could leave him inside, but he held onto her tightly, his weight propelling him forward. She shoved, he pulled. She rushed, he followed.

And together, they fell through the door, into the unknown.