The King of Fire

Ilona Andrews

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Grandfather sighed.

I sat on the floor of the library, basking in a pool of gentle light slipping
through the narrow, arched window behind me. Blood and dirt smeared my
jeans and my T-shirt. Everything hurt, and sorting through the maze of pain
and aches was exhausting. My body was pretty much a single bruise. The
right side hurt the most, sending a sharp spike of agony through my insides
every time I inhaled. The seventh rib was broken. Probably when the bigger
one kicked me. I was covering my head at the time, and the broken rib was
the lesser of two evils. I was working on it, but I had to conserve magic.
They would be coming for me soon.
“I have my reasons,” I told him.
“Are they good reasons?”
“The best.”
Grandfather sighed again. His handsome face, edged with a neat silvery
beard, wore a long-suffering expression.
My brother stalked over from the spot by the wall. He moved on all fours,
silent like a ghost on padded paws. When I materialized in Grandfather’s
palace, he’d taken one look at the blood on my face and changed shape in a
burst of flesh. In his human version, he was three feet eight inches tall, a
perfectly reasonable height for a six-year-old. I knew this because we
measured his height every six months. The current freaked-out iteration was
about my height, armed with powerful muscle, leonine jaws with four-inch
fangs, and claws that could gut a human like a fish. His fur was so dark, it
was nearly black, and against that darkness, his gold eyes glowed, two blood
moons hyper charged with shapeshifter hormones.
“It’s not that bad.” It was worse.
My brother pawed at the thick chain stretching from the shackles on my
leg into empty air.
“Please leave it,” I told him.
He caught it with his right hand and pulled, testing the strength.
 “Stop.” If he yanked it out of the wall, my whole plan would collapse.
He whirled around. The massive jaws gaped and snapped shut, fangs
sliding against each other like teeth of a steel bear trap.
“That’s not nice.”
He snarled.
Grandfather stepped forward and rested his hand on my brother’s shoulder.
“You are late for dinner.”
The kid let out a soft half-snarl, half-sigh that turned into a whine.
“I know. Your sister never does anything without a plan. Off you go.”
“Do I get a hug?” I held out my arms.
He snarled, but padded over, and nudged himself into my arms. I hugged
him, petting the soft fur. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
He sighed and then I was holding empty air.
“He missed my fingers by less than an inch.”
“Your brother is upset.” Grandfather snapped a huge old book closed.
“Can you blame him? I am upset. Your mother, if she knew, would be upset.”
If my mother knew, she would drop everything and ride out to save me. I
had to keep that from happening at all costs.
“Your grandmother will be livid.”
My grandmother was the one who sent me into this hell in the first place.
She wanted to come herself, but she was too much. Too tall, too strong, too
beautiful, and too full of magic. She would draw attention and be treated with
fear and caution her power deserved, while I had learned to hide my power. I
was unknown and easily overlooked as a threat.
“Why Moloch?” Grandfather asked. “Why now?”
“There are children in the hell fortress. He has over five hundred people
building his citadel. You should see some of them. They’re walking
skeletons. You look into their eyes and there is nothing there.”
The stench of it, sweat, urine, blood, feces, rot of infected flesh permeating
the narrow tunnels filled with cells, barely lit with oppressive watery fey
lanterns. The voices. The newer captives cried, the ones who had been there
for a little while moaned wordlessly, like animals, and those who have lasted
the longest just stared, wordlessly, glassy eyed. The air saturated to the brink
with miasma of pain and misery. I’d cried when they dragged me to the cell
from the sheer impact of so much human suffering. I had to get out. It was
that or I would break and do something rash. That’s why I came here. I had to
anchor myself to something light.
“This is what Moloch does,” Grandfather said. “He views his people as
fuel to be consumed in order to achieve his means. He feels no remorse. He
believes it is as it should be. This is the danger of proclaiming yourself to be a
god-king. You start believing your own press.”
“He isn’t a god.”
“No. He is a man, but he is at least as old as me with all of the education
and magic his ancient line bestows and that makes him infinitely dangerous. I
know you are aware of this fact, so I will ask again. Why are you there? You
can answer me, or…’
“Or?”
“Or I will tell your mother. Your choice.”
I was out of options. I would need his help anyway, eventually. “The seer
of the Witch Oracle called me.”
Grandfather’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you kept in touch.”
“We’re friends. She is only two years older than me. We used to have girl
days and shop for makeup together. I call her once in a while.”
Grandfather frowned, obviously struggling with this information. I gave
him a moment.
“Is there a prophecy?”
“There is.” And she’d called me frantic in the middle of the night to
deliver it.
“Let’s hear it.”
“When magic crests at its peak, the King of Fire will leave his citadel of
misery in the Western Desert to travel east to devour the queen who doesn’t
rule and sever bloodline reborn. Only the one who shares his power may
oppose him.”
As soon as I heard it, I told my grandmother and we were on the leyline to
Arizona before the sun came up.
I met Grandfather’s gaze. “He’s going to kill my mother.”
Nobody would ever harm my mother. Not as long as I was breathing.
He pondered my words. His eyes grew distant and for a moment a
different man emerged from his wise and kind facade, younger, harder,
vicious and sharp, like a shark coming to a surface from the depths of the
ocean. The immortal wizard-king who nearly killed everyone he loved to rule
the world. Ah, Grandpa. I missed you.
 “You cannot kill Moloch.”
“I’m going to give it a very good try.” I had planned a lot of fun surprises.
“No, child. When I said you cannot kill him, I meant he regenerates. Our
family bred for power over the lands we claim. His line bred for the ability to
restore themselves.
“I’ll chop his head off. I’d like to see him regenerate that.”
“He will,” Grandfather said. “I haven’t seen it, but my father has.”
He was serious. My careful plan collapsed on itself like a house of cards.
“How is that possible?”
Grandfather smiled. “Magic of a bygone age. The best you can do is
destroy enough of him to buy you time to get out. The magic of this moment
in history isn’t strong enough for rapid reconstruction and the periods of tech
will slow him down even more. Inflict enough damage to assure a temporary
death and he won’t be a problem for at least a few months. Dismemberment
is your friend.”
I gave him my sweet smile. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t ask the most important question.”
He paused. This was a test. If I asked the correct question, I would be
rewarded. If I failed, he would be disappointed. I needed his help
desperately.
I ran through it in my head. Magic at its peak, the King of Fire, citadel,
Western Desert, the queen who doesn’t rule, the one who shares his power…
Here goes nothing. “How do I share in Moloch’s power?”
Grandfather smiled, his magic shining from within. The sun had risen, the
clouds parted, the flowers bloomed, and the world smiled with him.
“The eyes, Julia. Moloch’s power is in his eyes.”
The library vanished. I was back on the piss-soaked straw in a dank cell,
chained to the wall. The gaunt woman across gave me a blank stare. She
probably didn’t even notice I was gone.
The heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. A metal bar clanged
open. Men filed into the room. Hands grabbed me and hauled me up, as
someone unlocked my shackles. I hung limp. It was time.
#
I climbed to the apex of the hill, scrambling up the rocky slope. A strong
hand caught my wrist and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. My
grandmother grabbed me and squeezed me in a crushing hug. All my wounds
cried out with a trickle of blood.
“How did it go?” she asked.
I glanced over my shoulder at the citadel burning behind me. The flames
roared, turning the fortress into one massive bonfire staining the night with
orange.
“He took my eye,” I told her.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
“That’s okay,” I said and opened my eyes wide, one brown and the other a
brilliant glowing green. “I took one of his.”