Death's Excellent Vacation

by Charlaine Harris

  She wasn’t. She was soft and smooth and vulnerable. Fragile, even. It don’t cost me anything to be brave.

  Oh, shit. Heart have mercy.

  And here I was carrying her toward doom.

  “Nope.” I felt about as tall as a runt gneevil-gnome.

  “Well, damn.” She was still trying. “They were trying to kill me, those things?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you saved my life.” It wasn’t a question.

  The plane accelerated. It made the sharp turn to set itself up for the runway. I rubbed one of the soles of my cheap canvas shoes on the top of the other shoe. “Yeah.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “Do you have a name?”

  “Uh, no. Don’t get one.” Got a control number and a smell and a territory, but no name. Called me Curly at school. I’d probably die if she ever called me that.

  “You don’t even have a name? Jesus.”

  I tried not to feel even smaller. “Sorry.”

  “Me, too,” she said, and closed her eyes. The plane accelerated toward takeoff. She gripped her armrests, her knuckles turning white.

  It was gonna be a long flight.

  EIGHT hours and some change later, we landed in Paris. The jeans I’d bought her didn’t fit, but the red sweater did, and I guess she was probably happy to get out of my jacket. It was raining here, too, so she kept the sweatshirt jacket anyway and zipped it up over the sweater. She was still in her beaten-up, heel-flapping sneakers, too. One of them was still shredded, just barely held together by the duct tape I’d applied.

  It was enough to hurt the Heart itself to see. We were ushered into a VIP lounge, and another stoneskin met us—one of the Inners. He had a fedora on, a long coat covered in raindrops, boots, gloves, and long dark hair that looked shiny and clean, hiding his face. A glitter of eyes deep under the brim of the hat passed over her, over me, and then winked out briefly before returning. “Well, hello. You must be the candidate.” He didn’t offer his hand, but he did bow a little. His hair swung. “I hope your flight was pleasant?”

  A muted announcement in French came through the lounge speakers. Kate stared at the Inner like he’d just asked her to take her own head off. She clutched her broken purse to her chest.

  I cleared my throat. “I brought her. I, uh, hope—”

  “You’re to come along.” His voice was actually pleasant and smooth. Not like my gravel-rasp.

  Well, the Inners. What can I say? They’re blessed.

  “Oh, I . . . Gee.” I actually floundered.

  “Come along, we shouldn’t linger.” He made a quick movement and turned on his heel. Kate actually glanced at me, like she was looking for directions.

  Oh, hell. “It’s okay,” I lied, awkwardly. Through the wall of glass all along one side of the first-class lounge came foggy Paris light. I swear I could feel the Heart—the Heart, the big one—throbbing behind each little droplet in the mist, singing to the sun even through the rain and mist. “We’ll go together.”

  She gave me the same tight smile she’d given me each time I walked up to her checkout line. Now I wondered how much of that smile was seeing under the mask of my human seeming. She hadn’t even asked about my claws or the ears or the way I’d fought us both free of the gnomes and harpies.

  “Okay,” she said quietly. “If you’re going, too, I guess it’s all right.”

  My heart tolled like a bell inside my ribs, and then it fell with a sick splash to somewhere around my toes. Or even deeper.

  I was doomed.

  WHAT can I say about the Sanctum? Well, it’s green and it’s quiet. Heartlight bathes everything, and during the day it’s easiest to get to if you stand where the glow of the north rose window of the most famous cathedral in the world should be . . . and step sideways. It’s not a step you can take physically. I offered my arm to Kate as the Inner stood watching us from the edge of the glow.

  Kate put her hand through it and her tight smile didn’t waver. I stepped, she came with me, and the light burst over us.

  “Oh.” She sounded shocked.

  I didn’t blame her.

  No matter where you step from, the Sanctum always starts you in the same place: a quiet garden full of golden light and the cloaked and hooded forms of the Inners gliding around. One of them approached us, and Kate clutched hard at my arm. “Oh,” she said again.

  “It’s a bit much the first time,” our guide said. He’d stepped through right after us and crowded us forward. “If you’ll come this way, miss. Brother, Jean-Michel will show you your quarters. We’ll meet at nightfall.”

  She didn’t want to let go. “Jesus—please, no—”

  Smart girl. I loosened her fingers from my arm, gently. Very gently, because her bones could break before I squeezed hard. “Kate. Please. Go with him. It’ll be fine.”

  “How come they get names and you don’t?” She looked up at me. “And they’re so bright.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” The lie was ashes in my mouth. “They get names because they’re Inners. They’ve brought Heart candidates in. Like you.” And they get the beauty and the name.

  “So—” She still didn’t want to let go. “You’re coming back, right?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to sound reassuring. “Just go with him, Kate. Please.”

  “Okay.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and stepped away. “Okay.”

  God, that hurt, too. I watched as the guide took her away. Her hair lit up in the Heartlight, pure spun gold. She wasn’t walking like it hurt anymore, and I hoped the first thing they’d do was give her new shoes. You don’t have to wear them in the Sanctum, it’s warm and springtime there always . . . but that flapping heel, my Heart.

  My chest was full of lava. It was a struggle to keep my ugly face impassive. Jean-Michel, cloaked in gray with his hood drawn up and shadowing his face, sighed. His gloved hands folded together. “That’s the hardest part, isn’t it?” His voice was just as musical as the guide’s. “Don’t worry, brother. It will all be well.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Sure. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Now you come with me. You bathe.” He paused for the briefest of moments. “And you choose your knife.”

  THEY left me alone in a pretty, open suite that glowed with Heartlight, falling with the sunlight through the open spaces that passed for windows here. There’s no need for glass when it’s always balmy. I don’t think I’ve scrubbed behind my ears that hard since the orphanage.

  So all that afternoon I sat in the window, looked out on yet another garden, and turned the obsidian knife in my hands.

  They’ve got all kinds—kukris and daggers and diver’s knives and even butcher knives. Hilts of every description. But the metal all reminded me of that thin thread of gold—the broken necklace that even now I had in my other fist. My hands were wide and blunt, and as soon as I saw the rock knives—flint, obsidian, bloodstone, you name it—my fingers tingled.

  What are you thinking?

  This was the Sanctum. It was green and perfect, and it smelled sweet, and the Inners didn’t move with that lurching awkwardness that shouts gargoyle. They’d all made their tithe and Tiend, and the Heart had taken their candidates, and they were here to serve. They got to bathe in Heartlight every day.

  They had names. The thing every gargoyle wants, a name of his very own.

  But dammit, Kate. Kate.

  I tipped my head back, bonked it gently on the window frame behind me. The frame was pure stone.

  There was an Inner at my door. A guard. I wondered how many gargoyles considered something stupid when they brought their Heart candidate here. All of them? Just me? There wouldn’t be a guard if none of them did. Or was he there because I might need something? Like a good pep talk?

  Like a reminder of why we did this? The Heart must feed. It fights the Big Bad; it powers all of us, gives us pieces of itself that grant us the stoneskin trueform. It even gives us names. True names, ones that don’t f
ade. None of that comes cheap.

  But . . . Kate.

  I had my feet outside the window before I thought of it. Pulled them back in.

  What was I thinking? I was still damp from my bath, tingling from the Heartlight, and in a gray robe and cloak with a big, deep hood. I would still shamble, though. I couldn’t move gracefully at all. And I would have to keep my hands hidden. They all wear gloves.

  Kate. She had a name. She probably took it for granted, too.

  Where would they have her? If I had to guess . . .

  I didn’t have to guess. The entire Sanctum was ablaze with expectation, the Heart’s singing to one of its own. I could just follow it to find her. Or I could follow the ringing pull from the necklace in my fingers.

  Or I could just sit here until they came to get me. I could do what I had to and get a name. I could be beautiful.

  Kate.

  I slipped the obsidian knife up my sleeve, pushed my feet out the window, and landed on garden loam.

  THE door was wide, and old, oak bound with scarred iron pulsing with life. I put my hand on it and the iron zinged, singing in a high carbon whine. It creaked a little as it opened, and I peeked in.

  The chapel was long and narrow. At the very end the stone rose like a wave, shaping itself into an altar draped with crimson velvet and pillows. I pushed my hood back. It fell away from my ears and I could breathe again.

  Kate lay there, very still. The walls throbbed. It was deep down and close to the Heart. The beats were a melody the Heart inside me echoed. It was hard to keep everything human-sized and inside. The trueform just kept wanting to bust out.

  The corridors had been sleepy and deserted. I’d done my best to glide and managed not to lurch too much. The necklace quivered in my aching fist. I’d wrapped it around the leather-wrapped hilt of the obsidian knife and pulled both up inside my sleeves.

  They’d put her in a red dress. It was beautiful. She was beautiful, in a way I’d never be. Her arm was over her eyes and her hair spread out over the pillows.

  God and Heart both forgive me. I pulled the door shut behind me as quietly as I could. My whisper boomed against the walls. “Kate?”

  She stirred a little. Her arm moved.

  “Kate. Wake up.” What if they’d drugged her?

  This was a fine time to start changing my mind. I’d done my duty all my life. But this . . .

  Being in the Heartlight makes you think about things a little differently, I guess. Or maybe it was the way she’d clutched at my arm. Maybe it was the way she’d looked when she asked me why they got names and I didn’t.

  Maybe it was because no matter how many times I made an excuse to stand in her checkout line for a pack of gum, she always smiled at me. Or because . . .

  Oh, hell and damnation. I would rather be ugly on the outside than ugly all the way through.

  “Kate?” I whispered again, more urgently. The chapel floor was carved with fleur-de-lis, all circled, all tangled together. I stepped on them without mercy as I lurched toward the altar. They dug into my feet, sharp sliding edges. “Heart and Hell, Kate, wake up. Please.”

  Her arm slid away from her face. She blinked, and the chapel walls resounded with a gong-struck quivering. I made it to the altar as the stone whispered away between fan vaulting, the Inners appearing in the leaf-shaped doorways.

  Had they just been here, waiting for me?

  “Shit.” I reached the altar and my human form shredded away. I whirled, my back to Kate, who let out a high whistling scream. The Heart thudded, and its light drenched us all with crystal clarity.

  The Inners moved forward, and they each had their own knives. Their hoods covered their faces, but their eyes gleamed from the darkness underneath.

  “The Heart demands,” one intoned, in a deep, beautiful bell-voice.

  “The Heart demands!” the others answered, in chorus.

  Kate screamed again. It was a lonely, despairing sound.

  I put my feet down, dug my claws in. “Stay back!” I yelled. The harsh note cut across their singing, a blot on their beauty.

  I should have never brought her here. Too late now.

  They drew closer. They didn’t pay any attention to my warning, and both hearts inside my skin stopped beating.

  Everything grew still. And I made up my mind. Too little too late, but I did it. I decided, and everything inside me fell into place.

  I set the point of the obsidian knife against my chest. Oh, my Heart. Kate. I’m sorry.

  They wouldn’t hurt her if the Heart received its tithe. That was the Tiend—the payment of a heart.

  They were almost close enough to spring. I knew that even though they were in robes, they were still gargoyles. I knew their strength and speed because I knew my own. Kate grabbed at my shoulders. She was shouting something. I couldn’t hear her through the noise of my heart and my Heart crashing in my ears.

  The Heart spoke to me.

  And I shoved the knife in hard, piercing both Heart and heart. It’s not that difficult if you know where to press. If you’re determined, and if you can hit one of us when we’re flesh and not stone. Or flesh in just one vulnerable place.

  The Heartlight dimmed.

  And my hearts . . . stopped.

  IT felt like I’d been dropped in broken glass, rolled around, then dipped in acid and pulled apart. My head pounded. Everything seemed put together wrong.

  Oh, shit. Didn’t I die?

  There was a blurry light. Silvery and cool. Something warm stroking my forehead. It felt good.

  “I think he’s coming around,” she whispered.

  My eyes opened slowly. “Kate?” I croaked.

  Behind her was stone ribbing. It was the same room I’d been in all afternoon. No sunlight, though. This was pure Heartlight, and the pulse in the walls was soft and satisfied.

  “I’m here.” She touched my cheek. Smiling. She was smiling. “Hey.”

  “Welcome back.” This was from our guide. He’d pushed his hood back, and I stared at him in wonderment.

  Smooth skin. Regular nose, low wide cheekbones, blue eyes. He wouldn’t win any prizes, but he wasn’t a squashed-together linebacker with pitted skin and picket fence teeth.

  He was unquestionably gargoyle, though. His ears came up to points and I could sense the Heart in him, echoing the beat in the walls.

  “What the . . . ?” It was the best I could manage.

  “Congratulations.” He pushed his long, straight dark hair back behind one ear. “You passed the test. You’re an Inner now. You can stay here, or you can go out into the world and do the same kind of work you did before. With your Heart.” He glanced at Kate, who was still in the same red dress. It was satin, and my God but her va-va-vooms looked even . . . well, voomier.

  “Huh?” I blinked. Kate stroked my cheek again.

  “They told me you wouldn’t hurt me.” Her smile was a little less tired now. The dress was cut low enough that I could see the upper edge of the mark on her left breast, running with its dark fluorescence. “All I had to do was scream. No big deal, I’ve done a lot of that lately.”

  “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Our guide nodded smartly. “Brother. Miss Katherine.”

  “What the hell?” I still sounded lost. Everything hurt, but the hurt was receding. “The Heart—”

  “The Heart has had its tithe.” The guide nodded, once. “You fulfilled the Tiend. Rest.”

  And with that, he swept out the door. It closed softly, and I stared up at Kate. I stared at her so long she shrugged, defensively.

  “This is all weird as fuck.” Her shoulders hunched. “But it’s better than checking at EvilMart.”

  “He looks . . .”

  “Not so bad, huh? You’re much better.” Her grin lit up her entire face. “They explained everything. Well, mostly everything. You did what you were supposed to do, and now you’re free.”

  “I thought I was dead.” The weakness retreated. I pushed myself up on my elbow
s and lifted my hand.

  The fingers were still callused and strong, but they weren’t gray and gnarled. And when I touched my own face I didn’t find craters. I found smooth skin and stubble, and my nose wasn’t a squashed mushroom. My tongue ran over my teeth, and the familiar geography inside my mouth was different. If I looked in a mirror, I probably wouldn’t see yellowed picket-fence teeth. I’d see straight white pearls.

  I was in a stranger’s body.

  “I kind of figured you had a crush on me.” Kate sat back on a low stool. There was a mirror across the room, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to look in it. Outside the window, the garden drowsed under gentle silver Heartlight. The smell of jasmine smoked in through the window. “I mean, all those CornNuts.”

  “I’m not ugly?” I sounded about five years old.

  “You never were.” She folded her arms. “But we’ve got to work on our communication. And what do I call you, anyway? Didn’t you ever give yourself a name?”

  I stared at her fish-mouthed for a while until she broke up laughing. It was a nice sound, and the smile that cracked over my disbelieving alien face felt like sunshine.

  “Call me what you want,” I mumbled, and that broke her up all over again. I settled back into the bed and stared at her. It was like waking up Christmas all over. “I’m not ugly?”

  “You never were ugly. Ever.” She moved as if she were going to get up, and I flung out a hand to stop her.

  A stranger’s hand. “Please. Kate. I’m sorry, I—”

  She sank back down and stared at me. We looked at each other for a long time. “You mean you’re sorry for bringing me here, when you thought I was going to be a human sacrifice?”

  My neck felt like rusted metal when I nodded. My hair moved on the pillow.

  She nodded, golden hair falling in her eyes. She looked very solemn, and the Heart inside me—it was still there, ticking along as if I hadn’t shoved a knife in it—turned over. If I could have torn it out and given it to her, I would have.