The Child Thief

by Brom

  Peter sat perched on the lip of the overhang, sword in hand, poised to leap down upon the Reverend at any moment, his eyes restless and wild, like those of a bird of prey.

  The Lady was tied to Danny, and both were held by the giant Flesh-eater, the one called Ox. Nick could see Peter struggling to hold back. But with that many Flesh-eaters around, even Peter seemed to understand that an ill-timed attack could cost the Lady her life.

  The Devils watched Peter, ready to attack on his signal, every one of them prepared to throw their lives away, though not for the Lady, Nick knew, but for Peter, for their feral messiah himself. How many more, Peter? Nick wondered. How many more is she going to cost? Peter caught Nick staring at him and looked away.

  “We’re gonna hit!” Dirk cried.

  Peter slid back next to Nick and gripped the rail. “Nick,” he said. “She is Avalon. Do you not understand? If we can save her, then maybe it wasn’t all for nothing. Maybe there’s still a chance to begin anew.”

  Nick could plainly see that any remorse, any guilt Peter might have felt for all the dead was gone, forgotten. It was about the Lady, his precious Lady. No cost is too high, is it, Peter?

  Too late the ferry’s big engines switched into reverse. Nick braced himself. The ferry managed to miss the pylons—the first few, at least. There came a terrific jolt as the side of the ferry smashed against the remaining pylons, followed by a deep grinding and wrenching as the hull crashed into the dock. The ferry stopped with a final jolt, tossing most of the passengers to the deck. The passengers that could, were up and climbing over the gate before the dock workers even began to tie the boat down, heedless of the young, the old, or injured.

  The ferry had two platforms to accommodate both decks of exiting passengers. Nick watched as passengers and crew exited from the upper decks, knocking and shoving each other in their panic. Meanwhile, the Flesh-eaters were leaving at a leisurely pace via the lower platform.

  All at once it dawned on Nick that he was back in civilization, that he was free at last. The nightmare, for him at least, was over. Oh my God, I’m here! I’m home!

  “Let’s go,” Peter called. He slid down the foot rungs on the outside of the ferry and leaped onto the upper docking level. The Devils and elves followed quickly behind. The witch and her brood scampered down to the platform, up the side of the building, and disappeared onto the roof. The troll began to ease his way down the rungs.

  Cricket started after Peter when Nick grabbed her. “Wait,” he said.

  “What? No. We’re going to lose them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “No, Nick. We have to save her.”

  “Are you mad? Cricket, look, we’re here. We’re back! We don’t have to play Peter’s game anymore. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over. Tanngnost said that if we can save her there’s a chance she can rebuild Avalon. They plan to go into the wilderness and start over. All of us. You too, if you want.”

  Nick let out a mean laugh. “And after all their lies, you’re going to believe that?”

  Cricket jerked her arm away. “Yes. What else do I have to believe in? Where else do I have to go? The Devils are my family! Maybe one day you will learn what that means!” She spun away, slid down the railing to the platform, and pushed into the crowd.

  Fine, Nick thought. Fine. Go get killed. See if I give a fuck. He watched her rush into the crowd. She looked so small now, here, back among adults. The crush of people knocked her about as they jostled forward, some businessman shoved her into the wall as he barreled past. Cricket stumbled but kept trying to press forward, then a large, red-faced woman crashed into her, knocking her to the walkway. “Goddamn it,” Nick said and leaped down, rushing, shoving his way to her. He pushed a man aside, then grabbed Cricket by the arm, pulling her to her feet.

  She shook him off. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Like hell you don’t.”

  Alarms were blaring everywhere. Nick searched for an exit, caught sight of Tanngnost up ahead. The troll wasn’t having any trouble getting through the crowd—people were literally falling over themselves to get out of his way. Nick spotted several people pushing out an emergency exit off to the left. He grabbed Cricket’s hand and pulled her through the door, down a short set of metal stairs, and into a dark parking lot. People scurried about in every direction, but they saw no sign of the Devils or the Flesh-eaters. They were deciding what to do next when several sharp reports came from somewhere back in the terminal; they sounded like gunshots.

  A GARBLED SQUAWK blared through Officer Julio Sanchez’s radio, followed by a snip of static. He hit the mic. “Come again?”

  The voice repeated the message.

  “Copy, we’ll look into it.” Julio spun to his partner—the bored-looking, paunchy officer leaning against the ferry turnstile. “Mac, holy shit, dispatch just got a frantic call from the ferry pilot. Something about a gang of black men terrorizing the passengers! Station thinks the pilot might be drinking though, he also said something about a large monster with horns.”

  Officer Mac suppressed a yawn. “Relax, rookie. The guy’s overreacting. Just some kids screwing around.”

  Julio narrowed his eyes. How long had he shared this beat with Mac? At least three years. It seemed the man could call him something besides rookie.

  “When you been at this job as long as I have, you’ve seen it all,” Mac continued. “And believe me, I’ve seen it all. Just stay cool and everything will be peachy-keen. Got me?”

  A sudden jolt shook the terminal.

  “Whoa, what was that?” Julio said.

  They could hear feet drumming along on the upper level, accompanied by shouts and yelling. Then alarms began going off. Four dock hands, a janitor, and some woman in a business suit came running down the corridor and leaped over the turnstile like they were in a steeple chase.

  “I’m calling backup,” Julio said.

  Mac laughed. “Backup? For wh—” His face went pale and his eyes grew round.

  Right about then, Julio was ready to bet that Officer “I’ve Seen It All” Mac had never seen a horde of black-skinned demons wearing rags and armor and carrying swords and spears, dragging a naked woman and a chubby boy by a rope. No, he was willing to bet his left nut that even Officer Mac had never ever seen such a thing.

  The monsters filed down the wide walkway and into the turnstile. To Julio’s surprise, they lined up in a rather orderly fashion and pushed through one at a time. Each of them appeared pretty taken with the apparatus.

  His first thought was this was some sort of theater group, or maybe a bunch of hardcore Dungeons and Dragons players. He’d heard those gamers were into some pretty weird role-playing shit. He glanced again at the woman and the boy, saw the red welts on the woman’s back, and ventured that this might be an S&M cult. But those weren’t costumes. He could see their wiry muscles and veins working below their scaly skin, and on top of that, they smelled atrocious. These people, he thought, whatever they are, they’re real!

  Julio finally found his voice. “Hold up,” he said as calmly as he could manage, wanting to keep things from getting out of hand.

  “STOP RIGHT THERE!” Officer Mac cried, his voice high and shrill. Julio realized with horror that Mac had his gun out and was pointing it at the monsters. “Don’t nobody fucking move!”

  “Cool it, Mac,” Julio whispered. “Would you please just cool it!”

  A tall man in a black cape stepped forward. “Who are you?” he asked, looking Julio up and down. “Are you the Lord’s men?”

  “Just a sec, buddy,” Julio said. “I’ll ask the questions.”

  Another monster stepped up. “They’re some sort of constables. Perhaps guards.”

  “A constable?” the caped man asked. “Where is your lord? We need to see the king.”

  The rest of the monsters had filed through the turnstile and were quietly surrounding the two officers. Julio found himself backing up, trying to keep them in front of him. He
set his hand on the butt of his revolver and clicked off the safety.

  “THAT’S FAR ENOUGH!” Officer Mac squealed. The gun was trembling in his hand.

  Julio put in a quick call for backup and prayed Mac wouldn’t do anything stupid in the meantime. Julio held up a hand diplomatically. “If I can just get you to—”

  BLAM! Officer Mac shot one of the monsters.

  The bullet punched a hole in the monster’s stomach. It looked at the bullet hole and furrowed its brows, then stuck a finger in the wound and brought it back out covered in black blood. Its eyes flared and it grabbed Mac by the wrist.

  The gun fired five more sharp reports. Some of the monsters stepped back, but the one that had hold of Mac, the one who now had six bullets in its gullet, groaned and fell over.

  In a blink, one of the monsters drew a short sword and shoved the blade, to the hilt, right in Officer Mac’s eye. The blade punched out the back of Mac’s head, sending his hat flying off his comb-over.

  Julio made a play for his gun, managed to get it clear of his holster, but that was as far as he got. Hard hands seized him and he felt something long and cold sink into his stomach over and over until everything went black.

  THE CAPTAIN STOOD over the two dead men. Killing them hadn’t been a very smart thing to do. Those men had been constables or guards, and he was sure that killing them wouldn’t sit well with whatever powers lorded over this kingdom.

  The Captain waited for the others to move on, then bent down and retrieved the weapon from the guard. It was obviously a pistol, but of a sort he’d never seen—so small, and with no powder or fuses. Such a weapon could come in handy. He stuck it in his belt and caught up with the men.

  What is this place? the Captain wondered. He caught sight of two filthy men sleeping next to a rifled garbage can. Not Heaven, he thought. This is now, that’s all. What the world has turned into while we were gone. He studied the spiraling pillars of poured masonry, ran his hand along the gleaming metal and glass. And it is both ugly and beautiful.

  The Captain suspected there’d be more guards coming soon. Will they kill us? he wondered. Or worse, send us to their dungeons to rot? Have I merely traded one hellhole for another? Now was the time to free Daniel and get out of here—escape these madmen before they got them both killed.

  The men had stopped, bunched up around the bottom of a long flight of silver stairs. The stairs led to the next level. The Captain’s eyes grew wide. The stairs were moving!

  “Just jump on,” Sid, the gangly midshipman, grumbled, and gave Robertson a bump.

  Robertson shoved Sid backward and growled, “You just jump on.”

  Ox pushed them both. The two men tumbled onto the escalator and were slowly drawn up the moving stairs, soliciting a cheer from the rest of the men, who then began to push and shove one another to be next.

  By the time the Captain had gotten on, he saw that many of the men were actually riding back down on the other side, grinning like children as they gripped the black handrail. Halfway down, Sid turned around and tried to walk back up the moving stairs only to bump into Robertson, causing both men to tumble down the steps and spill out onto the shiny floor.

  “Enough,” the Reverend cried.

  The men frowned. But they rushed back on, laughing like loons as they jostled to be the first to the top.

  They continued down a short corridor and found themselves in an immense chamber of glass and masonry. Light was everywhere. The very ceiling glowed.

  People in strange garments were rushing through the chamber from all directions, mostly pouring down from the upper levels, all intent on one thing: exiting the building. When the Reverend and his men moved into their midst, the people didn’t know which way to go, and in the ensuing chaos his men became separated into smaller and smaller groups.

  There were two sets of glass doors ahead, leading out onto different sides of the building. In the wave of confusion, about half of the men headed out what appeared to be the front of the structure, while the rest followed the Reverend out the side. The Captain followed the Reverend, sticking as close to Danny as he could.

  They pushed through the great glass doors and came out into the night lit with a million dazzling lights. Immense buildings of glass and steel towered above them, seeming to disappear into the very heavens. Several broad roads, not of stone but of some foreign dark masonry, lay before them. The Captain stopped. What manner of sorcery is this? Dozens of yellow carriages with blinding lamps rolled by at incredible speeds, and…there were no horses attached. No, not sorcery. I know sorcery, he thought. This is something else. There’s an explanation.

  The lights, the noise, the smells, the strange people, their dress, their oddness, all threatened to overwhelm him. He found himself wanting to look everywhere at once and at the same time wishing to close his eyes and not open them again. Hold steady, he commanded himself. Now is not the time to lose one’s mind. He locked eyes on the boy. My duty is to the boy. All this other—the whats and hows. It can wait.

  The Captain heard a strange, wailing noise, like hundreds of screaming demons, far away at first, but coming closer.

  The men looked dazed, some stumbled forward in wonderment, while others were overwhelmed, choosing to keep their backs against the building, refusing to venture any farther.

  “THERE!” the Reverend yelled triumphantly. “God’s house.”

  The Captain followed the Reverend’s gesture and was amazed to find that there, indeed, was God’s house. A church with a towering white steeple sat just down the avenue. Atop the steeple, a gleaming cross was lit up by piercing beams of white light. The cross stood out against the looming towers like a divine beacon. Below the cross, a statue of some angelic saint looked down upon them with sad, forgiving eyes. Her arms were open, as though welcoming them home.

  The Reverend pointed at the Lady and Danny. “Bring the demons,” the Reverend cried. “Time we finish God’s work.” He raised his hands, clutching spastically at the sky as his eye flared with righteousness. “Lord, we come home to you.”

  “GET DOWN,” NICK hissed. “They’re coming.”

  Nick and Cricket ducked behind a parked van and watched as a large group of Flesh-eaters began filtering across the parking lot, staring about with their mouths agape.

  Nick heard sirens heading their way. He tried to guess what would happen when the police arrived, what they would do with the Lady, Tanngnost, Peter, the Flesh-eaters, any of them. This isn’t going to end well for someone, Nick thought. Crap, and if they catch me? He knew what that would mean: they’d take him home to his mother, deliver him right into the hands of Marko. Wouldn’t that just be some shit, after everything I’ve been through. I gotta get out of here.

  “There’s the Lady!” Cricket said.

  Nick spied the Reverend, then the Lady, as Ox marched her into the parking lot. She was still tied to Danny. Danny looked terrified but the Lady’s face showed no emotion, she plodded along with her head down, looking so out of place, so fragile and vulnerable among the noise, glass, steel, and endless concrete.

  “We have to do something,” Cricket said.

  “Do what? Huh? There’s nothing the two of us can do. Look, now’s our chance to get out of here before the police have this place surrounded.”

  “Are you kidding? Are you really gonna just run away?”

  “I’m not going to get killed for her. Not for that creature. Not for Peter. Not for any of them.”

  “So you’re just gonna abandon her? Just like that? Just like you did with your mother?”

  “Don’t give me any more of that crap,” Nick snapped. “She’s not my mother. I don’t owe her a thing.” But he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He’d be dead right now if not for the Lady, dead or some sort of a half-mad demon, like one of those Flesh-eaters. She’d saved him. She’d taken the darkness from him, regardless of how any of this came about.

  With what seemed like an effort, the Lady lifted her head and Nick found her
eyes directly on him; they were silver now, all their color drained. He sensed her deep within his core, believed he heard her speak his name, a sound as soft as an echo, as though they were still beneath the dark waters of her pond. For a moment Nick could actually see the magical aura that surrounded her, the way it bled from her—tiny sparkling tendrils that flowed and trailed about her—could see magic hiding here and there, peeping out from among the metal and concrete, the garbage and asphalt. The magic flourished as the Lady passed, blooming like a garden after the first spring rain. He felt the magic within him, around him, felt it stronger than ever, understood that even here, in the city, in the world of men, magic did exist, woven into the very fabric of the earth. That magic was a fragile and threatened element, and without shepherds like the Lady, it would fade and the earth would become a darker, colder place.

  Ox yanked the Lady forward, knocking her to the sidewalk. “To your feet, demon!” Ox yelled, and kicked her, sending her sprawling across the concrete.

  Nick winced.

  Ox grabbed the Lady by her hair, snatched her to her feet, and gave her a hard shove forward. Nick could see fresh blood streaming down both of her knees.

  “Okay,” Nick said.

  “What?”

  “Okay, we’ll follow them.”

  Cricket nodded.

  “Just in case, though,” Nick added. “In case there’s a chance. Something we can do. But you have to promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  Cricket grinned. “Me? Never.”

  They were interrupted by a blaring car horn. The Reverend, followed by his flock, crossed an intersection and headed up the avenue. Nick looked ahead and saw the church, knew that was where they were taking the Lady, had several guesses to why and not one of them was good.