Kalona's Fall (House of Night Novellas #4)(21)

“Divine energy, mixed with the power to create and the element Spirit,” Thinking aloud, Kalona sat on a felled tree he’d dragged near the campfire he lit nightly, and poked the embers with a long stick. “Spirit, energy, and creation—that equates to life. If I have reasoned through that, Erebus surely will, too. I can see him now, preening and fluttering as he presents his creation to Nyx, making her smile and clap and coo.” Kalona jabbed the fire so violently that his stick snapped in half.

“I will not find the answer sitting here staring at the fire!” That was when Kalona spotted the rock. It was a flat, heart-shaped sandstone. With two hands he hefted it, deciding it would do. With a hasty incantation, Kalona summoned Spirit, mixed it with magick and creation, and funneled it into the lifeless stone.

The rock had broken open, spewing sand and forming grotesque lumps of coagulating energy. Kalona had hurled it away from him in disgust. “Why is it some things can be filled with spirit and life, and others cannot? Humans were once just earth and water. Look at them now!” he’d shouted to the sky.

Some of the grasses surrounding his campsite rustled. Kalona clenched his jaw in irritation. It was probably that damned Shaman again. The human seemed to have devoted the winter years of his life to spying on Kalona.

Three ravens croaked reprovingly at him. Kalona rubbed his aching forehead.

“More in a long list of excellent reasons why I need to complete this test and depart this realm permanently,” Kalona grumbled. He had decided days ago that, once he joined Nyx in the Otherworld, he would be able to provide amusements enough for the Goddess there, ensuring that she would want to spend less and less time here.

As if to lend support to Kalona’s plan, the Shaman chose that moment to begin another of his repetitive, unending chants. Kalona sighed and glanced in the direction he’d thrown the misshapen rock. Unsurprisingly, the grasses there were waving, and smudge smoke drifted up, gray against the starry night sky.

“He found the rock.” Kalona shook his head. “I should have buried it. Now he’ll chant all night, and I will find no peace here.”

Kalona spread his wings and prepared to take to the sky. He’d return to Nyx’s falls. Perhaps she’d grace him with her presence at dawn, and he could find solace in her arms.

But the immortal hesitated. His instincts told him the answer to the puzzle of the Spirit test was here. This was the prairie Nyx liked so much, peopled by her favorite breed of humans. Surely there was something here that could inspire him to create that which would please Nyx far beyond any colorful show Erebus could concoct.

Kalona began to walk in the opposite direction from where the Shaman’s voice lifted and fell in annoying regularity. The night was clear, the moon almost full. Even without his preternatural sight, Kalona would have had no problem finding his way. His father’s light shined silver, turning the prairie into a sea of grass. As he walked, Kalona unfurled his wings and lifted his face upward, basking in the soothing light. It calmed him and focused him, so that before long Kalona’s frustration had almost completely subsided, replaced by renewed confidence and sense of purpose.

“I will complete this final task and then take my place at her side for eternity. This separation is but a small drop in the sea of time awaiting us,” he said.

The grasses a short way behind and to his right rustled. Sighing, Kalona stopped, turned, and strode purposefully back. “Shaman, this must end. Leave me in peace!” And, conjuring his spear from the magick that drifted in the night sky, Kalona rammed the flat end of it into the ground, creating a clap of thunder.

Not Shaman! L’ota! cried the little Fey as she scurried back from his spear.

“L’ota, do you bring word from Nyx? Does my Goddess summon me?”

Not from Nyx. I watch.

Kalona stifled another sigh. Would nothing go right this night? “Little skeeaed, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. There is nothing here to watch except my frustration. Return to the Otherworld. You will fare much better there.”

I watch. I help winged one.

“Help me? You mean with the last test?” He chuckled. “Little one, what could you possibly know about Spirit and creation magick?”

The creature’s body became more fluid, and her whispery voice took on a cunning lilt. L’ota know many, many things. L’ota see many, many things.

“No doubt you do, being so close to Nyx,” he said, humoring the creature. “Tell me, L’ota, what should I create for the Goddess?”

Goddess likes jewels—headdress, necklace of crystal, ropes of shells and stones.

Kalona’s eyes widened in surprise. “If I could string a necklace made of living jewels for her, I believe Nyx would be well pleased.” He bent and patted the creature. “Thank you, L’ota.”

The skeeaed’s skin rippled and turned a bright, flushing scarlet. L’ota know many, many things, the creature whispered, sounding self-satisfied.

“You do, indeed. Perhaps you can also tell me where I could find some jewels,” Kalona said.

Not tell.

“Of course not,” he said, looking up to the sky as if to find patience there.

Not tell. Show.

With that, the skeeaed skittered away, motioning with one long arm for Kalona to follow her. What do I have to lose? With a shrug of his shoulders, the immortal hurried after the Fey.