Portia Read online

  First Published by Ink Monster, LLC in 2015

  Ink Monster, LLC

  34 Chandler Place Newton, MA 02464

  www.inkmonster.net

  ISBN 9780990635246

  Copyright © 2015 by Ink Monster LLC

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Kim Stern

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  I am so late.

  My heart beats at double speed while I rush down a marble staircase in the Ryder Mansion. If I were a doll, I’d be Action Librarian Barbie, The Super-Late And Extraordinarily Stressed-Out Edition. I glance at my watch and cringe. My lecture on Magic Across The After-Realms should’ve started twenty minutes ago.

  The President of Purgatory waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. Her mouth presses into a thin frown.

  “Portia, you’re finally here,” she says. “We were getting frantic.”

  The President’s known for being tough on crime, corruption, and well, everything really. But she’s also my grandmother. When it comes to family, Gram’s a softie who worries like crazy.

  “So sorry, Gram. I got caught up.”

  Her eyes widen with alarm. “It’s your Firmament spell, isn’t it? You’ve been working on that non-stop.”

  The magical Firmament is what holds the after-realms together. Void demons have been attacking it for years. My spell will show the damage. Worst case scenario? All the after-realms could fall apart. Question is, will the catastrophe hit in six months or six hundred years?

  My stomach twists with dread. My intuition tells me it’s closer to six months.

  “When do you think you’ll finish the spell?” asks Gram.

  “Any day now.”

  “That’s excellent news. We’ll finally know if danger is imminent.” Her face beams with pride. “My brilliant grandbaby. After all the years of hard work, you must be thrilled.”

  I try to muster up a smile; I can’t.

  “Something else is wrong,” says Gram. “What is it?”

  I try to play it cool, but I can’t stop the splotches of red that appear on my cheeks. “I was, uh, talking to someone before.”

  Gram lowers her voice to a hush. “Was it a boy?”

  My heart sinks. Technically, it was a boy. In reality, it was a disaster.

  Trouble is, I should be a man killer. I have all the ingredients. I’m nineteen years old, not terrible to look at, and a princess to boot. Plus, I’m part Furor dragon, which means that I should have supernatural powers over lust and wrath. But I’m the opposite of a man killer. More of a man frightener.

  Gram’s features soften with concern. “Please tell me what happened, honey.” It’s the ‘honey’ that gets me, every time. “Did you really talk to a boy?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, Portia!”

  “Please try not to make it a thing. It didn’t go well.”

  Gram stares at me expectantly. Her face is so open and understanding, I can’t help but spill my guts. “I’ve been having flirty conversations with this guy, Alex, who works at the dry cleaner. But it was all by phone, you know? He never saw me. And I never wrote my real name on any of the slips, so he didn’t know I was…”

  “High Princess of the thrax and the granddaughter of the President of Purgatory?”

  “Yeah, that.” I anxiously shift my weight from foot to foot. “Anyway, today I needed to pick up my suit for the lecture. So, I decided to go in person.” Alex looked adorable through the store window. He had blond hair, tawny brown eyes, and a sweet lion’s tail. “Once he saw me, he freaked out and ran away.” I spent an hour moping on the couch. Not my best morning.

  On reflex, I brush my fingertips across the black tribal markings near my right eye. These are why Alex panicked. My marks frighten everyone. I’ve had them since birth. There’s no hiding them. No removing them. And no avoiding what they mean. One day, I’ll transform into one of the Void. A weight of sadness settles into my bones. “I should have expected it.”

  Gram gently guides my hand away from my eye. “Someone cast that spell on you, am I right?”

  I nod.

  “Then, there must be a way to break it. We’ll never give up.” She lifts her chin defiantly. “And you’re a marvel. Only nineteen years old, and look how much you’ve learned about magic. There’s a way to break this thing and you’ll find it.”

  I try to force another smile. It doesn’t happen. Normally, Gram’s pep talks work like a charm. But I’m not feeling it today. “You know me. I’ll get my head together. Alex threw me off, that’s all.”

  “Oh, honey. I may be old as dirt, but I remember talking to boys. How you look? It can feel very important when you’re young. That’s all an illusion.” Gram sets her fist over her heart. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  Here it comes. No one gives a better ‘be yourself’ lecture than Gram. Most days, it works great. But today, all I can picture is the terror on Alex’s face. Sure, we’d totally connected on the phone, but did that make any difference once he saw I was Marked? Not at all. “Gram, I wish people saw what’s inside. I really do.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Portia. I’m a quasi-demon. Your grandfather’s an archangel. According to our DNA, we should be enemies. But when I look at him, I don’t see an archangel. I see Xavier. That’s love, and that’s what you need. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, honey. I’m saying that you’re worth it.”

  Gram takes my hands. Though her fingers are slim and dainty, her touch is firm as steel. “As a matter of fact, nothing worthwhile is easy.” She gives my hands an encouraging squeeze. “But I know my grandbaby. You’re a fighter.”

  I offer her a sad smile. “I can barely hold a dagger.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She steps away and releases my hands. “Now, be honest with me. If you’re too upset for today’s lecture, you can cancel.”

  I stare at the closed door. If I walk out now, I know where that path leads. More hiding out in my penthouse, reading books, and practicing spells. Alone. I straighten my shoulders. Some risks are worth taking. “All right, Gram. Let’s go.”

  “Now, that’s my girl.”

  Gram and I walk down the hallway and into the packed ballroom. My body goes on high alert. Everything seems to warp and lengthen, like I’m looking through a fun house mirror. The tall French doors seem to tower impossibly high. The crowd’s chatter echoes in odd ways. And all the faces somehow multiply by the second. I wipe my sweaty palms on my tweed skirt.

  Why did I agree to this again?

  If the full room makes Gram nervous, she doesn’t show it. With an effortless grace, Gram steps up to the podium and speaks into the microphone. The crowd instantly quiets.

  “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to our monthly lecture series for diplomats…”

  As Gram does her introductory stuff, I scan the space and try to dampen my rising panic. Th
e audience includes representatives from all five lands of the after-realms. There are angels from Heaven, quasi-demons from Purgatory, and ghouls from the Dark Lands. There are even a few full-blooded demons here, although they’re all flanked by guards. And finally, there are a handful of demon-fighting thrax from Antrum. That’s my father’s side of the family.

  “And now, it’s my sincere joy to introduce our guest speaker.” Gram gestures to the few thrax in the room. “Some of you already know her as Princess Portia, heir to the throne of Antrum. But I see a different side of this young woman. My granddaughter is one of the foremost experts on the different types of magic used across the after-realms.”

  Gram shoots me a proud glance. I inwardly cringe. No question what’s coming next—Gram loves to talk about how smart I am. It’s not my favorite topic.

  “Portia has been named to the Angelic Council for Academic Excellence,” says Gram. “She tested out of the human equivalent of high school and college at the age of thirteen. She was also awarded the Golden Pentagram for achievement in witchcraft. Portia is the only spell caster known to have mastered all forms of Level One magic.”

  Gram leans in to the microphone, her brown eyes glittering with delight. She’s on a roll now. “You know, this reminds me of a story.”

  Reminds her of a story? Kill me now.

  “My granddaughter’s nineteenth birthday was just last month. Portia always makes a big book donation in honor of her birthday, and you know what? My granddaughter has given more than five thousand books on magic to Purgatory’s libraries. Many of them are rare editions.”

  Gram shoots me a friendly half-wave. I try to grin back, but it might look like I have gas pains. The more Gram talks, the more I want to kick off my heels and run for the hills. I don’t do attention. Period.

  Before I can make any real escape plans, Gram ushers me to my place at the podium. “Therefore, without further ado, I present the Princess Portia.”

  Gram bows slightly and steps away. My heart thumps so hard, I feel the beat in my throat. I stare blankly into the crowd.

  You can do this, Portia. You’ve been practicing your speech for ages.

  “Canopic jars,” I say in a full voice. “Does anyone know how they work?”

  Evidently no one knows, as the room stays deadly quiet. My skin prickles with anxiety. This is not going well.

  Thankfully, all my rehearsing pays off. My mouth starts moving on its own, following the familiar course of my presentation.

  “Canopic jars were used by humans in ancient Egypt. We use them in the after-realms, too.” I lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Only unlike humans, we don’t fill the jars with body parts.”

  A few chuckles echo through the crowd. My confidence rises. “Canopic jars are best used as a supernatural batteries. Energy goes in and gets doled out slowly over time. The Firmament uses this principle, too.” Some confused looks appear in the audience. I frown.

  Oops, I may have lost them there.

  “How many of you are familiar with how the Firmament works?”

  A few people raise their hands. Most look even more confused. “The Firmament is an invisible magic network that holds the after-realms together. At the heart of this system, there are four Sacred Trees.” I pick up the glass of water sitting atop my podium. “Think of this as a Sacred Tree. The water inside is Firmament magic. It slowly evaporates over time, feeding the roots and branches that connect all the after-realms.”

  I scan the audience. The confused looks have disappeared. My confidence soars. With that, I launch into a detailed explanation of the magical underpinnings of the after-realms. The more I talk, the easier it gets. After a while, it’s hard to tell how much time’s gone by. I don’t really mind, though. Now, I’m the one who’s on a roll.

  I lean closer to the microphone. “There are four magical researchers who’ve done serious work on the Firmament. Two of these have theories I find useful.”

  Gram slips up to my side, her face all smiles. She gently nudges me away from the mic. “My, that does sound interesting. Sadly, I’m afraid we’re nearly out of time.”

  My brows lift with surprise. “It’s already been thirty minutes?”

  “You’ve been up here for almost an hour, honey.”

  An hour? I can’t believe it went by so quickly. The audience looks sleepy and dazed. My heart sinks. Maybe that last bit on magical researchers was too much. I turn to Gram and speak from side of my mouth. “What do I do next?”

  “Perhaps you can take a few questions?” suggests Gram.

  At these words, about a hundred hands zip up into the air at once. Gram gestures to a cute kid with a mop of ginger hair. “How about we start with this young gentleman?”

  The boy bounces on his seat with excitement. He appears so sweet and harmless—all messy hair and freckles—that I take Gram’s suggestion.

  “How about you?” I point to the boy. “What’s your question?”

  The kid hops to his feet. “Where’s your tail?” As he speaks, the boy twists his own lizard tail between his fingertips. “Did it get cut off or something?”

  A jolt of anxiety hits my bloodstream. The fact that I don’t have a tail really worries the general quasi population. “No, I was born without a tail.”

  Some members of the audience shift, uncomfortable in their seats. I can almost see their commentary hovering above their heads in cartoon-type thought bubbles. Real quasis have tails, end of story.

  I worry my lower lip with my teeth. I need to lighten the mood here. I inspect the boy and guess why he asked the question in the first place. “But I bet I know someone who can lose their tail and regrow it.”

  The kid’s eyes go big as saucers. “Yeah, I can.”

  At this point, the boy looks totally adorable. The crowd lights up with happy faces. Some photographers crouch-walk closer to the boy, all the better to get a good shot. Flash bulbs go off like fireworks. My heart lightens. At last, a front-page picture that won’t make me cringe.

  “Thank you, Princess,” says the kid.

  I smile from ear to ear. This is totally working. Without thinking, I gesture to the man who’s next in line, his arm held high in the air.

  “How about your question, Sir?”

  The guy rises. “Roy Cotter, Purgatory Enquirer.”

  My heart sinks to my toes. This creep is one of those reporter-stalkers who follow me around looking for tabloid headlines. They always print the same stuff—how any second now, I’ll turn into a demon, launch my secret plan, and overthrow Purgatory’s government. Not that I blame the quasi population for being jumpy. We had a demonic diplomat who seemed harmless—that would be Armageddon—and he ended up leading a marauding army through Purgatory.

  Roy stares at me eagerly, his dark eyes glittering with excitement. How could I have missed him? He’s tall, bony, and has a scorpion’s tail. Not easy to forget.

  “When will you turn into a Void demon, Princess?”

  Gram leans into the microphone. “You know our official stance on this topic. My granddaughter has had a spell cast on her. She has some unfortunate marks. That is all.”

  I press my lips together, hard. It’s all I can do not to scream the truth into the microphone. I am Marked for the Void. And worse than that, those monsters are destroying the after-realms. It’s only a question of when.

  Maybe I can just say one little thing.

  I raise my pointer finger. “Actually, when it comes to the Void—”

  Gram grips my hand tightly, stopping me. A warning flashes in her brown eyes. I know that look. She doesn’t want me talking about the Void and the Firmament. Not yet, anyway. We need to know if it’s an imminent threat.

  Roy glares at me, a challenge in his eyes. In the past, I’ve always agreed with Gram about holding off on the Void news until we had more specifics. But today, the truth bubbles up inside me, dying to get out.

  “What do you say, Princess?” asks Roy. “Are you Marked for the Void or w
hat?”

  “I’m not here to disagree with the President,” I say carefully.

  “Ha! That’s what we call a non-denial denial… Which means that you do think you’ll turn into one of the Void. Come on, we all know it.”

  His words hit me like fists. My tragedy is his next headline, nothing more. My heart feels hollowed out and empty.

  Gram sets her hand on my shoulder, gently pressing me away from the podium. “My granddaughter is not responding to that ridiculous accusation.”

  Normally, this is the part where I stiffen my spine, shut my mouth, and tough it out. That isn’t happening this time around. Instead, something snaps inside me. There’s almost an audible ping through my soul. Suddenly, I’m sick to death of concealing everything that I am. The guy wants an answer? He’ll get one.

  I lean into the mic. “No, I’ve got this.”

  “If you’re sure, honey.”

  “Positive.” Fresh rage corkscrews up my spine as I scan the audience. The anticipation turns so heavy, you could cut the air with a chainsaw. “Am I Marked to transform into a Void demon?” I drag out the moment for extra emphasis. “Absolutely.”

  A chorus of gasps fills the room. It’s a satisfying sound.

  “Perhaps we should end questions now,” says Gram.

  “With all due respect, Madame President,” counters Roy. “The people of Purgatory have a right to know what’s happening with your granddaughter, especially since you let her run wild.” His mouth twists into a sneer. “We know what happens when a full-blooded demon goes free in Purgatory.”

  More anger spikes through my soul. “Worrying about full-blooded demons is a waste of time. The real threat goes beyond Purgatory.”

  The crowd gasps once more. Roy rocks happily on his heels. “Knew it! You’re planning to conquer the after-realms. It’s Armageddon all over again. This, my friends, is why full-blooded demons always have an armed guard.”

  Rage jolts through every muscle in my body. How can he be so blind? “You’re focusing on the wrong thing!” I pound the lectern for emphasis. “I’ve researched this every way you can think of, and the fact that I’m Marked isn’t what’s important.” The audience stares at me, dumbfounded. “This is a sign. Someone’s warning us about the Void.”