“May I present to you the Dark World,” Rego said, waving his hand with a dramatic flourish over the grotesque distortion of New York. As he spoke, the landscape continued to undulate and change, the vibrant reds and oranges of the inferno in Hell’s Kitchen reflected in flickering tongues of flame in Rego’s gray eyes. “It’s been known by many names throughout centuries, of course, but your friend’s nickname for it is actually the English translation for the Old Demonic name for it. She was surprisingly accurate in her terminology,” Rego said, clearly reluctant in his praise.
“The Dark World is an alternate version of your world, connected to it by its very nature. What happens in one world can impact the other. If the death of someone in your world is prematurely caused by an inhabitant of the Dark World—namely, a demon—the victim spends the duration of what would have been his or her life trapped on the other side. A demon played a hand in your friend’s death, yes?”
“Actually, no. She—” I stopped short, not wanting to tell Dottie’s secrets.
“She died in the fifties. She killed herself because she was pregnant,” Logan finished.
“What does that matter?” I asked, indignant. “And her name is Dottie.”
“I had to know who she was—is,” Logan corrected himself, giving me an apologetic look. “After I realized you could hear her, I did a little research in the school archives after hours. I said I’d made that jump between buildings a thousand times,” he added, that confident smile flashing quickly across his face. Then his smile faded as he continued. “I’m positive that Dottie was the victim of a male lust demon—an incubus. The mother is unable to resist his advances.”
I mulled over what Dottie had told me about her ex. “She did call him a dreamboat.”
“More like a nightmare boat,” Ajax griped before explaining. “The mother never survives the birth. As soon as she’s pregnant, the demon disappears, returning only to take his offspring back home.” He pointed at the map, indicating the horrific home in question.
“But, wait a minute—Bobby didn’t kill her,” I pointed out, tracing a crack in the table with my finger, and it wobbled underneath my fingertips.
“A demon intervened in her life, directly bringing about her death. That’s all that matters,” Rego explained cavalierly, as if he were talking about dinner plans, not the victimization of my only friend. Seeing the aghast look on my face, he softened his tone—slightly.
“It’s not surprising, given the timing of your friend’s demise,” he explained. “The lust demons really built their numbers in the fifties, rising to prominence in the sixties. Their numbers were so great, they influenced your side, actually. I trust you’ve heard of the hippies and their belief in free love?” Rego grimaced in disgust, and I nodded, thinking about the goofy Cinderella play my dad had dragged me to. It suddenly seemed a lot more sinister.
“It happened with the greed demons, too,” Ajax interjected. “Ugh, in the eighties they were everywhere. Wasn’t that an era of greed on your side?”
“Big-time. While I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that there’s a demonic influence on Wall Street, what does all this have to do with me?” I asked. “Why would a demon attack me simply because I can talk to people like Dottie?” I stared at the map as it undulated before me.
Rego folded his hands on the table, regarding me gravely as his silver rings clacked against the marked-up surface.
“That talent is precisely why. It means you can do more than simply talk to people. It’s why the ruler of the Dark World, the Regent Queen, sent her minions to kidnap you. It’s quite arduous to cross between the worlds. Very few portals exist—and most of those are one-way passages. It’s a brutal journey full of unspeakable pain. No one can survive crossing over alone. You must travel in a group, so the energy is absorbed by multiple bodies.”
“Why is it so painful?” I asked.
“Ripping a hole in one universe to visit another? Oh, dear Bliss, that’s going to unleash some serious energy,” Ajax answered with a low whistle.
“Where are these portals?” Hopefully Antarctica, because I want to live as far away from these things as possible.
“The demons have destroyed most of them. The remaining ones are not exactly convenient. One portal to the Dark World is in the ocean, for example. There’s one that leads to this side in the demon queen’s palace, heavily guarded, of course,” Rego explained with a flick of his wrist as his iron eyes studied me. “But to have a Traveler like you at your disposal?” My skin crawled at the easy way the term Blaise had used rolled off his tongue.
“You’re connected to both worlds. Your ability to talk to Dottie is proof of that. A demon or a warlock could use you to open a portal anytime he desired, and cross back and forth as often as he wants,” Rego marveled, and my stomach turned at the way he regarded my value, like I was some supernatural bus pass.
“Why would you ever want to go there?” I asked, shuddering.
“It’s not that bad,” Ajax said, but Rego just brushed him off.
“We’re at war here, Paige.” Rego’s tone was solemn, mouth set in a serious, grim line. “Warlocks are the rightful heirs to the throne—a throne that’s been sullied by thousands of years of demonic reign. But now, we’re closer than ever to taking back control. With your help, we could travel back and forth for supplies—there are herbs in the Dark World that cure injuries. I use salt from the seawater on that side in my healing elixir.”
“And cocoa butter, because you can never underestimate the power of soft, touchable skin,” Ajax chimed in, earning another of Rego’s glares. The warlock pinned Ajax with his hard gaze until he muttered, “Ooh-kay, then,” and focused on his chips.
“But beyond that,” Rego continued, turning his attention back to me, “you could travel to a safe point in this world, cross over and find yourself standing in the queen’s chambers. If you knew the exact coordinates, it would be the perfect assassination.”
Rego studied me speculatively. “And I’m sure you’d love to help us get revenge on the demons who arranged the attack on you today.”
“No, Rego,” Logan interrupted, glaring at his uncle. “Don’t even think it.”
“What?” I asked, looking back and forth between them.
“There’s a slight potentiality that it could be something of a minor drain on your life force to cross into another dimension,” Rego begrudgingly revealed.
“Put it in English, Rego,” Logan said, before turning to me. “Paige, it could take years off your life.”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he thought about how to explain.
“Think of opening a door,” Logan said. “You shove, and the door opens, right?”
I nodded. “Now think of the exertion it takes to open a heavy door.” He paused. “Now imagine trying to open the steel door to a locked bank vault. Think of pushing all your strength behind that door.”
“This is like that?”
“This is a hundred times harder.”
Rego leaned back in his chair, his steely eyes appraising me as he tapped his index finger against his lips. “But that would be after making several trips. One or two wouldn’t hurt much if you were willing to help our cause.”
“Rego,” Logan warned, giving his uncle a stern look. “It could kill her.”
“We don’t know that for sure. If it’s for the greater good, she could consider it. She’s the one who didn’t want her memory erased, after all,” Rego replied, arching his eyebrow at Logan.
“So, is everyone who had a near-death experience a Traveler?” I asked, changing the subject.