“Okay, cool,” said Just James. “Gabriel. Gabriel? I don’t even know if the mic’s on, right, but here’s the thing. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me—”
“I know you well enough,” said Gabriel.
“—but I think that if you’re a dead kid about my age you’ll understand how special Adalia is and how we need to team up so she gets out of this alive and that really I don’t know what’s going on but I want to help.” His words came faster and faster until they ran out completely. After a moment, he added, “I think … I think I need to do something important. For her. For you.”
Gabriel blinked. “I don’t know you at all,” he said. He smiled, eyes widening with wonder. “And I think that’s a good thing.”
He thinks I’m special? Adalia started to reach out a hand, to Just James or Gabriel she couldn’t rightly have said, then let her hand fall. “I don’t know what’s going on either.”
“I do,” said Gabriel. “I don’t know if he knows what it means to help here.”
“Just James,” said Adalia. “Do you … do you know what’s at stake here?”
“I just said I didn’t know what’s going on,” said Just James, looking up at Trump Tower. “But I do know that that building’s seen better days. Those windows are totally smashed. It looks a lot better in photos on the Internet.” He scuffed one foot across the top of the other. “We need to give everything. To make it right.”
“If we go in that building,” said Adalia, “someone will die.”
“One of us?” said Just James. She could see it in his eyes, the understanding of what was to come.
“I don’t know who the Sacrifice is,” Adalia lied, “except that it’s not me, and it’s not Gabriel.”
“Why not you?”
“Because,” said Adalia, knowing it was unhelpful, but made the truth easier to hold in her heart. “That’s not the way it works.”
“Well,” said Just James, “the way I see it is this. Standing out in the street gives us about an eighty percent chance of dying of cold if we stick around. Maybe ninety percent if the zombies come and eat our brains.”
“They don’t eat brains,” said Gabriel. “They — never mind,” he said, sighing in exasperation.
“And,” said Just James, “as long as you don’t die, I’m okay with that.”
“What if it’s you?” said Adalia. Her voice grew small. “I don’t want it to be you.”
“Then this Universe of yours will owe you one,” said Just James, standing tall — really tall, in a way she’d not seen before. Like he had a purpose and a will, like he knew where his road went all of a sudden. “C’mon.”
“Wait,” said Adalia. “What if it’s not us?”
“What do you mean?” said Just James.
“She means,” said Gabriel, rolling his eyes, “that just because we go in there doesn’t mean it’s one of us that dies. You, I mean. I’m already dead. I mean, it could be Adalia’s mom, or Uncle John, or Melissa Carlisle, or Valentine Everard, or Skyler Evans, or Rex Aubrey. The Shield can’t stop it. The Sword can’t break it. The Good Right Arm won’t be able to lift it, and the Knight can’t fight it. Do you understand?”
Just James looked right at the spot where Gabriel stood, then turned to Adalia. “I understand,” he said, “that everyone you love would die for you. Do you know? Do you see? You’re becoming something more beautiful.” He shrugged his thin shoulders inside his jacket. “Let’s go.”
More beautiful? “But—” Adalia swallowed. “No one should die because of me.”
“I agree,” said Just James, “but things are a bit shit right now. We might need to—” and he wiggled his hands “—compromise here.”
“Heck of a compromise,” said Gabriel.
“I don’t know a lot—” said Just James.
“No kidding,” said Gabriel.
“—but I know that the world ends today if we don’t do this.” Just James held out his hand to Adalia. “Meet me half way, and let’s go save the princess.”
“Save the princess?” But Adalia was already taking a small step forward.
“Figure of speech,” said Just James.
“Video games,” said Gabriel.
Adalia took Just James’ hand in hers. It was smooth and warm. She looked down at her feet, then walked with him into where the wind touched the earth, where the dark was strongest, where the Leader of the Damned sat in the space between thoughts. But she didn’t fear the fading of the sun. The living and the dead walked with her, and she would end the devil’s reign.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
The floor was soft under her bare feet, warm and comforting like—
You have never been in any place like this.
—the Grand Hotel in Monte Carlo. She had stayed there, with him, for a spell or two. It had been when they met, and of course it wasn’t called the Grand Hotel — that’s what they’d called it, laughing as they enjoyed a week away from the rest of the world.
This is a place where your thoughts go to die.
Danny brushed a red lock away from her face, ducking under the gauzy fabric that guarded the entranceway. The room smelled of lavender, sun streaming in the open bay windows. The sounds of a street far below came in with the fresh air, muted and gentle. And he was there.
Choler tells false tales with your own mind.
Choler sat on the bed — as handsome as he had ever been. He’d stripped himself to the waist, the heat of the day starting to cause sweat to prick against his golden skin. Danny smiled at him. “Where have you been all my life?”
“Waiting for you,” he said, putting aside his book — had he just been holding a book? But of course he had. She hadn’t seen it, the drapes around the bed hiding the minor details from view. “Come to me.”
“I’m already—”
You are lost.
“—here..?” Danny’s footsteps slowed, and for a moment she saw cold walls and broken windows in a room for the rich, before the sunlight returned in a blaze of white, so brilliant, so clean. She swayed. “I’m sorry, Choler. The day — I’m feeling a little dizzy.”
“Of course, my love,” he said, getting up from the bed. That young, fit body he wore hadn’t aged a day since—
You never met him before this day dawned.
—they had met all those years before. She hoped she didn’t disappoint him — she knew carrying a child had given her marks on her skin that she was proud to wear.
“What are those, Mommy?” Little Adalia pointed at the stretch marks on her skin.
“They are my tiger stripes,” she said, laughing. “I earned these.”
“How did you get them?”
“The best way,” said Danny.
Adalia frowned. “Will I get them?”
“If you’re lucky,” said Danny, hugging her. “If you are blessed.”
Except the marks were gone now, weren’t they? Gone, like Adalia. Why was that name so familiar? So close to her heart, yet so far away? She stopped, then pulled up her shirt to see her smooth skin, unmarked by the bearing of a child.
Remember.
She hadn’t had a child, had she? “Choler?”
“Yes, my love?” He came to stand close to her, a strong arm holding her up.
“Choler, did we have a baby?” Danny felt so confused, and her head was beginning to hurt, hurt so bad it felt like something was trying to force its way out.
Remember.
“No, my love. I wanted one, you know this, but you never did. You said you … well, it’s not important. Surely you remember?” His eyes, so full of concern, of care. How could she not remember not wanting his child?
A sharp stab of pain hit behind her eyes, and she cried out, falling—
REMEMBER.
—to the ground. Her breath came faster now, she panted with exertion, but she didn’t know why—
By the moon.
—because she should be in love, she should be relaxed, shouldn’t she? She c
lenched her head in her hands, fingers raking against her scalp, drawing—
By the stars.
—blood. The bright copper smell hit her, and she remembered running through the night, moon and stars wheeling overhead an Earth not yet cool. The game was ahead of them, running for life, and this, this was it, the test of it all. To hunt, to earn your right to stand astride the ground and howl your victory to the heavens, to the Universe that watched it all.
Remember your Pack.
“Are you all right?” Choler’s voice was liquid honey, but the pain pushed it aside and she didn’t answer. Such pain, she had not felt even this much in the joy of the birth of her little girl, her baby, her Adalia—
Remember. Remember. REMEMBER YOUR CUB. He cannot take her from us.
—who was so very small in her arms. Danny had held her in the hospital, whispering against Adalia’s head that it’ll be okay, Daddy’s gone but I’m here, I promise I won’t ever leave and yet she had done worse than leave. She had forgotten.
Danny screamed, and screamed, and screamed, then stood up, the sunlight falling away from her, leaving the cold and dark of Trump Tower. She stood with Choler in a luxury room, the squalor of it vile — half empty bottles of liquor cast aside, uneaten food lying on plates and trays on every surface. Her head was going to explode, the memories bursting back out, washing over her. Some warning, some—
Rise. Danger. FIGHT.
—sense making her see the knife that Choler held, that tiny sliver of agony that he was bringing towards her face. She snarled, grabbing Choler’s knife hand. Her other hand she brought round in—
No claws. This body is so weak. Change, my sister.
—a fist, smashing the bones in Choler’s arm again and again. The man was thrashing in her grip, the pain must have been—
He will litter this world with the empty hearts of the lost.
—exquisite. It made her hit harder, and faster. Danny pulled him in close to her, breathed in the stench of him, then lifted him off the ground, arm straight out in front of her like she was holding up a shirt she was considering wearing. The knife finally tumbled to the carpet, the hateful silver twinkling, catching stray light as it fell.
“By the moon and the stars that I hunt by,” said Danny, “I remember.”
“We are in love,” said Choler, and Danny felt the pull of it.
She shook him like a doll. “No,” she said. “You are a sickness. You tried to take my little girl from me.”
“She is your weakness,” said Choler.
“She is my strength,” said Danny. She pulled the man close enough to kiss, saw the madness in his eyes, and adjusted her grip. Her free hand grabbed Choler’s other arm. Holding both of his arms just below the shoulders, she put a foot against his chest, and braced herself.
“She will—” but his words choked into a scream as she started to pull. She leaned back into it, her teeth clenching into a snarl. Choler screamed, and screamed, until one of his arms gave with a wet tear, a shower of red spraying across the expensive carpet, the drapes, her face. Pieces of Choler rained to the ground with the sound of a wet mop hitting linoleum. Danny stumbled back, letting his body fall.
Now we hunt.
“Yes,” she said, and licked her lips, tasting copper. She caught a glimpse of herself in a broken mirror against the wall. Her eyes were burning yellow, so bright, above the red of Choler’s blood. “We are the Night.” She raised a hand to her face, touching the blood, licking it off her fingers. A shiver went through her at the taste, the sticky red sweet she hadn’t glutted on in such a long, long time. She turned those bright eyes to Choler’s body, and felt a terrible hunger.
We are the Night.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
They’d managed to climb another few floors up through the dark tower, but the smell of fire had drawn them out of the stairwell. John had said we should just walk the fuck on by and Rex had said and that’s how a fire will kill us all because they go up, don’t you know anything and Sky had just pushed the door open and left them to it.
She looked down another empty corridor — everything in this place looks the same — except this one wasn’t the same. Sure, yeah, it looked the same, down to the identical beautiful carpet and tacky artwork. The difference was the smoke blooming like a corrupt flower from down the end. Dark and thick, like someone was burning tires. It didn’t smell like tires, it smelled like potpourri, and that’s when Sky knew it was all wrong.
Because, if she knew anything at all, it was that potpourri was a great lie, one of those told to children as they grew up like Santa’s real or that quarter came from the Tooth Fairy or free Wi-Fi if you dine here. Sky had seen her share of potpourri, usually in a bowl, and she’d always thought, why the hell would you put a bunch of dead plants in a bowl.
Unless you were making soup.
If this fire smelled like potpourri, like potpourri was supposed to, then it was another great lie.
The door to the stairwell creaked open behind her. “Baby?” John came up beside her, took her hand. She leaned into the closeness of him. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone.”
“Is that because you were spending so much time arguing with Rex that you forgot about me?” Sky looked at him, deadpan.
John’s face went through twenty different emotions before settling on the not-quite-Miles-Megawatt-Smile that she loved. The honest one, the one just for her. “Nice,” he said. “Truth be told—”
“Truth be told,” said Rex, “that’s a fire.”
“Smells like flowers,” said John.
“I’ll admit, that’s unusual,” said Rex.
“How unusual,” said Sky, “on a scale of one to ten?”
“Maybe a twelve,” said Rex. “I was called to this fire a while back, right? It was—”
“Is this a long story?” said John. “Because, fire.”
Rex sighed. “So, I was called to this fire a while back, place called Blake Garden. Heard of it?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy who gardens?” said John.
“UC Berkeley, right?” said Sky.
“Do I look,” said John, “like the kind of guy who went to college?”
“So,” said Rex, pushing on, “there’s this little cottage garden there.”
“What’s it called?” said John.
“It’s called the Cottage Garden,” said Rex. “Did you want this to be a long or a short story?”
“I want it to be an accurate story,” said John. “You started it.”
“Made me want to take a few more classes,” said Rex. “You get in a place like that with summer fashions, and…” He looked at Sky, then swallowed.
“I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about,” said John.
“I think you should stick to the main points,” said Sky, glaring at John, “because, fire.”
“Speaking of,” said John, “shouldn’t you be getting an extinguisher and rushing up there to put that fire out, old man?”
“Two things,” said Rex.
“Shoot,” said John.
“First up, do you see any extinguishers?” Rex pointed at the walls. “Nice wallpaper, sure, but no extinguishers. New hotels, they’ve got the fire systems all built in.”
“I saw a fire axe in the stairwell,” said John.
“Those are good for axing open the stairwell doors,” said Rex. “They’re not real good at putting out fires. You can’t just cut a fire down.”
“So,” said Sky, looking at the smoke again. “Second thing?”
“I’m retired,” said Rex. “As you pointed out, I’m an old man.”
Sky snorted. “UC Berkeley,” she prompted.
“Some kid had decided to start a fire,” said Rex. “Weed, or something. I don’t know.”
“Seems plausible,” said Sky, “but as they’re students they pretty much all major in drug discovery so it could have been anything.”
“He … the student, that is … started the fire in this
cottage garden. I don’t think he meant to, it’s this little place full of cottage crap. You know. Herbs. Roses.” Rex gestured vaguely with his hands. “Flowers and shit. I don’t know. Anyway, didn’t smell anything like that,” he said, pointing at the smoke. “Just smelled like dead plants burning. Not air freshener.”
“I don’t get the link,” said John. “Cottage garden, check. But—”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” said Rex, “it’s because potpourri is made of spices and rose petals and other crap like that.”
“Gotcha,” said John, but he was grinning. Sky held his hand a little tighter. “So what we going to do about this fire?”
“You,” said Rex, “are going to get a fire axe from the stairwell.”
“Cool,” said John. “What for? I thought that you couldn’t put out a fire with an axe.”
“You can put out a fire starter with an axe,” said Rex.
“On it,” said John, giving her hand a quick squeeze before detaching himself from her. “This day just gets better.”
Sky stood, Rex at her side, and watched John walk back the way they’d come. The old man spoke up. “Nothing much gets him down, does it?”
“Not much,” said Sky. She knew her voice had gone soft, couldn’t help herself. Didn’t want to.
“That’s got to be kind of annoying,” said Rex, pretending not to notice.
“It’s why I love him,” said Sky.
“I wondered,” said Rex, “because of all the other stuff that comes along for the ride.”
“That,” said Sky, as the heavy stairwell door shunked shut behind John, “is just John Miles being John Miles. I’d sooner try to talk a hurricane down than change any of that.”
“You’re a special woman,” said Rex. “Look me up if he dies at the end of this.”
Sky laughed. “God loves a trier, Rex. God loves a trier.”
John came back through the stairwell door after only a moment, jogging back towards them with a bright red fire axe in his hands. “These things are heavy,” he said.
“They’re not for show, that’s for sure,” said Rex. “Now, son, let’s go find us a fire.”
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