by Derek Landy
“Blame the teenage hormones,” Amber said. “So are you done distracting me? Because you can talk all you want and delay me all you like, and they can put up their murder songs—”
“Murs du sang.”
“—whatever, they can put up their murs du sang to isolate me from Milo, but it won’t do them one teeny-tiny bit of good.”
“Ah,” he said.
“What? Ah what?”
The thinnest of smiles on Stromquist’s lips. “You think the mur du sang was to isolate you from him.”
Amber looked at Stromquist, tried to spot the bluff in his eyes. “Balls,” she said.
His chuckle was not a pleasant one, and it followed her as she spun and sprinted back the way she’d come. She burst out into the open air. Her father was on his knees in all his red-skinned glory, and standing behind him was Milo, gun pressed to Bill Lamont’s head.
Behind Milo was Betty, holding a gun of her own to Milo’s back.
“HI, HONEY,” SAID BILL.
Amber flipped him off, and Bill laughed, showing his fangs.
“I’m going to forgive that,” he said. “Just this once, I’m going to forgive such a blatant show of disrespect. I understand that everyone is very tense right now. Betty, how are you feeling at this moment?”
“Like I want to kill someone,” Betty said.
“And Mr Sebastian?” said Bill. “How are you feeling?”
Milo ignored him and looked at Amber. “I shoot him, she shoots me. You can get her then.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” said Bill. “This is a perfect time to chat, wouldn’t you say, Amber? To catch up? A lot has changed since the last time we spoke. You’ve gone from running from the Hounds of Hell to being one. Even better, you’re Astaroth’s representative. Yes, yes, we know about your new role, we found out, and I don’t mind admitting it … it makes me proud. Betty?”
“Our little angel,” said Betty, “going from a part-time job in the Firebird Diner to the vengeful right hand of a Duke of Hell. If the others were still alive, I would probably be boasting about this.”
“Bet you never thought you’d be one of those parents,” Bill said, still smiling.
“Never in a million years.”
“What,” said Amber, “the hell are you talking about? Seriously? These are your last few moments of life and you’re wasting them talking about nothing?”
“You wouldn’t kill us,” said Betty, acting wounded. “We’re your parents.”
“I would,” Amber said, “and I will. The Shining Demon wants me to drag your souls back to Hell and that’s what I intend to do.”
“We understand that,” said Bill, “but we have a counterproposal for you.”
Amber moved forward. “Talk all you want, Bill. It’s not going to change anything.”
“Then it won’t hurt to listen, will it?” Betty asked. “It won’t hurt to consider another idea.”
“I have no intention of listening to anything you have to say,” Amber told her.
“That’s because you don’t know what we’re going to say yet.”
Amber stopped moving and waited.
“We’ve been running for weeks,” Bill said. “I’m not going to lie to you, sweetheart – things got rough. We were running out of places to hide, running out of things to try. If you had been anyone else, yes, this would be the end for us.”
“But he made you his representative,” said Betty. “I don’t know why but I can guess. He probably thinks it’s fitting. It probably appeals to his warped sense of humour, if Astaroth can be said to have a sense of humour. But why he did it doesn’t matter. What matters is he did, and it’s the first mistake he’s made in a very long time. Centuries.”
“I found you, didn’t I?” Amber said. “He couldn’t have been too far off the mark.”
“Oh no, we’re not questioning your ability,” Bill said. “You’ve surprised us again and again until, to be honest, we’ve come to expect miracles from you. But he picked the wrong person to be his representative because now – now – we have someone on the inside.”
Amber frowned. “I’m … sorry, what are you saying? You’re saying you’re happy it’s me because …?”
“We’re family,” said Betty. “We stick together.”
Amber couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
“Are you insane?” she managed eventually. “Are you seriously suggesting that we’re on the same side now?”
“Why not?” said Bill. “This is a golden opportunity, sweetheart. It’s beyond perfect. Astaroth believes that the animosity you’ve built up towards us, for whatever reason, will prevent you from even considering working with us.”
“‘For whatever reason’?” Amber echoed. “You’ve been trying to kill me.”
“And now you’re here trying to kill us,” he responded, “so I’d say we’re even, yes?”
“You tried to kill me first.”
“Well … I hate to say it, Amber, but you’re sounding awfully immature right now.”
“You are,” Betty agreed.
“This is an insane conversation,” said Amber. “You two are nuts.”
“Have you thought about this?” Betty asked. “Have you thought about what comes next, after we’re dead? What, you think you’ll be happy, scurrying from one madman’s offering to the next? You think your destiny is to be a lackey of the Shining Demon?”
Amber gave the most indifferent of shrugs. “Haven’t really thought about it,” she lied.
“Of course you haven’t,” Betty said. “You’re young, you’re impulsive, you live in the moment … and that’s wonderful. It is. But we’re thinking of your future, of all our futures.”
“And you have to admit,” Bill said, “when we work together, we work well. The three of us took down a Hound of Hell without any weapons. That’s teamwork, Amber. That’s family. That’s what we’re going to need if you’re going to sneak us into Astaroth’s castle undetected.”
Amber sighed. “That’s what I’m going to do, huh?”
“We can take him down,” said Bill. “We catch him unawares, when he’s vulnerable, and, if we work together, he’ll never see it coming.”
“So we kill the Shining Demon,” Amber said. “The three of us. And then what?”
“Then we’re all free,” said Betty. “We no longer have to run. You no longer have to work for him. We can live our lives.”
“As one big, happy family?”
Betty smiled sadly. “If you like. We know it’s going to take you some time to forgive us for what we did, but we’re willing to wait. These last few months have been a revelation, sweetie. We’re seeing you in a whole new light.”
“We’re proud of you,” said Bill.
“You’ve grown so much,” Betty said, nodding. “You’ve become this astonishing young woman. I think, honestly, you needed this to happen.”
Amber looked at her. “I needed you to try to eat me? Really?”
“In order for you to evolve. Yes.”
“Wow,” said Amber. “Just … wow.”
“The old group is gone,” said Bill. “Imelda and Alastair and Grant and Kirsty … we started this with them. We were solid. Unstoppable. Or so we thought. We lost sight of who we were – all of us, except for Imelda. She remembered what it was like to be a good person. A decent person. Her actions, the things she did, reminded us of who we used to be.”
“We can be those people again,” said Betty. “They were our family – now you are our family. The three of us against the world.”
Amber laughed. “I can’t actually wrap my head around what you’re saying. Milo, what about you?”
“I think if I shoot him,” he said, “and she shoots me, you can get her then.”
“Valuable input,” said Amber. “I like it.”
“Please believe us,” said Betty.
“Oh, I do,” Amber said. “I believe that you are one hundred per cent genuine. I believe you are arrogant and nuts enou
gh to think that I would ever, ever, want to be on your side after everything you’ve put me through.”
“We are, admittedly, imperfect people.”
“You murdered my brother and sister, Mom. You ate Imelda alive. My entire life is a lie, it’s a joke, and my death would have been the punch-line if you’d had your way. So no, we’re not going to be working together. Instead, I’m bringing you to Astaroth and he’s going to flay your soul until it’s as thin as your conscience, which is pretty goddamn thin.”
“We just want you to think about this,” said Bill.
“I’ve thought about it,” Amber said. “And my answer is: bite me.”
Milo moved suddenly, shifting as he spun, his skin turning the deepest, most impossible black, the kind of black that drank in the light around it. He struck Betty’s arm an instant before she fired, and the bullet hit the ground, but as he spun Bill spun, and powered into him. Milo got a shot off as they stumbled, and Betty cried out, clutching her leg. Something hit Amber’s shoulder as she went to help. It was an arrow.
Somebody had shot her with an arrow.
She looked up and saw a man standing in the trees, a bow in his outstretched hand, and a second arrow came arcing through the air towards her. It thudded through the half-formed scales on her chest and she grunted, stepped back and wobbled. She fell to her knees.
Milo, red light spilling from his eyes and mouth, dropped his gun. When Bill reached for it, Milo kneed him in the face and grabbed it again. Betty fired and Milo jerked, and she fired again and that one twisted him, tripped him, made him fall. She missed with the third shot and stumbled on her injured leg.
“Leave it!” Bill said, scooping her up. “The hillbillies will keep them busy!”
Bill took off running, his wife in his arms.
Milo raised his gun to fire, but an arrow found his thigh.
More people now, emerging from the trees. Amber watched them come. They held bows and arrows and hatchets and machetes. Four men, one woman, all dressed in faded rags. All misshapen. She knew at once who they were. Kelly had mentioned a run-in with an inbred hillbilly family who lived in the Sacramento Mountains – a run-in she’d barely survived. The Gundersons. Apparently, they ate people.
“More goddamn cannibals,” Amber muttered, getting to her feet.
An arrow whizzed by her neck, snagging her hair on its way. Milo fired at them as they came running. He was still on his back, though, and now reloading. Amber walked stiffly over, unable to take her eyes off the arrows in her chest and shoulder for more than a few seconds at a time, and grabbed the collar of Milo’s shirt.
She dragged him backwards across the ground as he resumed firing, sending the Gundersons scrambling for cover. They got behind the corner of the funeral home, and, with Amber’s help, Milo stood. He growled, and reverted, sagging back against the wall. Blood soaked through his shirt.
“It bad?” she asked.
“Probably pass out soon,” he said. “You’ve got arrows in you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“This is going to hurt.” He reached out and she braced herself. He took hold of the arrow in her chest with both hands, snapping the shaft. He did the same with the other one. “We’re going to need a knife to get the arrowheads out,” he said. “If we live that long. I saw five people in rags.” He snapped off the arrow in his own leg.
“The Gundersons,” Amber said, waiting for the pain to pass. “They eat people.”
“More goddamn cannibals,” he muttered. “We get to the Charger, we get out of here.”
The pain wasn’t passing, so she tried to ignore it and peered round the corner. “They’re at the Charger.”
“Then we kill them,” Milo said. “What do you know about them? They living or dead?”
“Living, I think.”
He slid a fresh magazine into his gun. “I got nine bullets left. Almost two each.”
“Providing you don’t miss. Crap, they’re coming.”
“This might be a good time to drink that vial.”
She nodded, dug her hand in her pocket. “Oh.”
He looked at her. “No.”
She peered around. “I dropped it when the arrow hit. It’s right there. On the ground. I can get to it, though. If I run, I can … okay, I can’t get to it. We have to move.”
She got Milo to his feet, then helped him hobble into the trees.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll meet you back at the car.”
“What? We’re not splitting up – are you crazy?”
“It’s the only move that makes sense,” he said. “They’ll catch us if we’re together. You go it alone, you have a chance to stay ahead of them. I go it alone, I have a chance that they’ll go after you.”
“Oh, that’s great, that is. Thanks.”
“We’ve got to be practical,” Milo said. “Splitting up gives us the most options to get out of this alive.”
“But—”
“No arguments. No time. Go!”
He shoved her and took off the other way, and she heard the Gundersons shouting to each other, and she cursed, and ran.
THE WOODLAND WAS QUIET.
Amber came to a halt, panting only slightly despite the speed she’d been moving at and the distance she’d covered. She’d easily outrun the Gundersons, but now her thoughts were on Milo. No gunshots yet, so they hadn’t caught up with him. Hell, maybe he’d evaded them completely. If she was lucky, the Gundersons who were coming for her would just get themselves lost, and she could sneak round them and get back to the car before they realised what was going on. They were inbred hillbilly hicks, for Christ’s sake. How much of a threat could they be?
An arrow thudded into the tree next to her face.
“Shiiiiit,” she breathed as she pushed herself off. She ran low, zigzagging through the brush, scales rising on her skin. Another arrow hit those scales and ricocheted off. She couldn’t even tell where the bowman was. It was like the goddamn trees were shooting at her.
Another arrow whistled by her ear and she tripped on a thick root sticking out of the dirt, but turned her sprawl into a roll and scrambled up, scampering on all fours, lunging through a wild, thorny bush. On the other side she ran down the slope, each step becoming a leap, each leap taking her farther than the one before. She hit a branch and spun and fell and flew, rocks and dirt blurring beneath her, branches whipping as she sailed through the air like she was never going to come down.
But she did come down, hard, all the wind knocked out of her, and now she was rolling uncontrollably, uncontrollably rolling, down and down and over and under and the ground and the sky and the ground and the sky. She crunched into a tree and came to a stop, laden down with pain and fractured ribs, despite the scales that had formed, and she lay there, gasping, trying not to moan too loudly. Now that she was out of immediate danger, her scales retracted.
An arrow found her forearm and she found the breath to scream.
Amber saw the bowman coming down the slope after her as she somersaulted backwards. She threw herself behind a tree and started crawling through the bushes. Once she was behind cover, she looked at her left arm. The tip of the arrow had gone straight through.
Gritting her teeth, she snapped the arrowhead off, took hold of the other end and pulled it out. She couldn’t help it. She screamed.
She heard the bowman laugh.
Moving again. Keeping low. She didn’t hear him behind her but she knew he was there. He was quiet. Silent even. Not like Amber. She was like a goddamn elephant, the noise she was making. He was having no trouble tracking her, and sooner or later she was going to stumble into his sights and get an arrow between the shoulder blades – unless she stopped running and started fighting back.
She kicked off her sneakers and jumped, her hands and feet becoming claws that dug into the tree. She climbed quickly, despite her injuries, disappearing into the branches. She stayed there, listening for the footsteps. When they came, she held her breath. The bowman cam
e into view, another arrow nocked and ready to let loose. He stepped over her sneakers, looked around.
Amber let go and dropped, but she banged into a branch on the way down and this gave the bowman enough time to jump out of the way. She landed as he drew back the string and she froze. The bowman grinned. At this range, even with her scales up, an arrow would smash through her heart like it was nothing more than a balloon.
“Up,” he said.
Amber stood slowly.
“Walk,” he said.
As they made their way along the trails set into the woodland, she tried looking for a way out. The bowman was close enough so that she couldn’t run, but far enough so that she couldn’t reach him without getting an arrow for her trouble. So she walked.
They headed back towards the funeral home, then took a detour that led them to a clearing with an old shed surrounded by rusted farm machinery. There was a truck here, too. It was rusted beyond measure, but held together with rope and chains and metal patchwork. Somehow she just knew that this truck belonged to the Gundersons, that this was how they had come down from the mountains.
The bowman made her kneel and put her hands behind her back. He tied her wrists with rope. She didn’t mind that. It wouldn’t take much to get free, not with claws like hers. Then he put a sack over her head. She didn’t like that.
But she stayed where she was. The inside of the sack smelled bad, like rotting vegetables. Around her were sounds of movement, of footsteps. Voices too.
Someone pulled her to her feet and turned her so that her back was against the truck. The sack was pulled from her head. She blinked.
The bowman was gone. In his place was the woman with the hatchet and a bald man.
“So you’re Amber,” the woman said. Her eyes were too far apart and she had whiskers on her chin and a bald spot. Apart from that she fine-looking. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Amber. My name is Aphrodite. You’ve met some of my family. The boy with the bow, that was Ares. The dumb one here is Apollo. Say hello, Apollo.”