by Tricia Owens
"Hell is the only salvation," Vagasso sang out as his stinger snapped forward, striking Christian dead center of his chest.
I roared in shock and grief as my friend collapsed backward onto the pavement. As Christian lay unmoving, Vagasso turned his sights on Vale. Vale shifted into his gargoyle and launched himself toward the safety of the nearest building. Before his gargoyle could reach it, Vagasso's stinger snapped out again, biting the gargoyle between its shoulder blades. It dropped out of the sky like a shot pigeon.
I don't know what happened next. I went berserk for a long time. There was an impression of fire and light, of a pain so crystalline and bright it felt like I'd been stabbed by a bullet full of corrosive acid. It made me screech in agony but I endured it because I could do nothing else. There was no giving up. No surrendering. My body was pounded by dark magick. I felt dozens of poisonous stings all over my body, but the fire continued to pour from my throat. I was dragon of doom. Dragon of justice. Dragon destroyer of all my enemies!
But Vagasso refused to die.
Though I engulfed him in a tornado of fire, he remained unaffected. He laughed in the midst of the inferno, calling out, "Oh, Anne, you're so amusing," which only enraged me further.
"Do you think," he said, as he snapped his stinger at me, just missing my wing, "that I would fight a dragon if I held any fear of fire? You're no threat to me, little girl. You're a butterfly that has been coddled and told she is special." His face twisted into something horrible and leering. "But you're no more special than that dragonfly I crushed in Utah. I'll crush you just the same."
Though I'd been 99% sure that Vagasso had killed my parents, hearing him confirm it—no matter what help he may have had from Dearborn—solidified my resolve that only one of us would walk away from this. It was freeing in a twisted, fatalistic way. I had no reason to hold back.
"Every dragon in history has been a dumb beast," Vagasso went on as his tail snapped at me. My body, already pulsing with stings, was burning up inside, though not from my own dragon nature. Venom was trying to destroy me from the inside. I roared my fury at this, expressing my determination not to succumb. But there was no denying the truth: I was dying.
"Always burn, burn, burn—never smart enough to do more. You're no better than a cheap, plastic lighter, Anne. And just like a lighter, you're a tool to use and discard. Just like your ancestors were."
I looped through the air, my heart pounding fitfully, unhealthily. My wings strained to keep me aloft. Fire churned in my chest, but what good was it? What more could I burn?
"If you surrender to me," Vagasso called up to me, "I might allow you to live as my pet. Better to be a pet in Hell than...just plain dead."
That's what you think.
I finished my loop, noting the destruction of the Strip, the magickal beings, singly or in groups, using their magick in vain, trying to save, trying to turn this awful situation around. It needed to start with me. But my greatest weapon was useless.
A sense of peace settled over me. I turned and beat my wings, driving me toward the man-scorpion monster on the ground. As soon as I drew within reach, Vagasso struck out with his tail. I roared in agony as his stinger stabbed me in my neck, injecting me with more venom, perhaps the final, fatal dose.
But I didn't stop.
I opened my jaws wide, closed them around his segmented tail just beneath the stinger, and ripped it off Vagasso's body.
It was his turn to scream as I spat out the twitching tail and circled around. He didn't possess any pincers of note, so he couldn't stop me as I flew past and almost casually snapped my jaws around his hind leg and tore it off. Unbalanced, he collapsed with a howl.
I couldn't speak to Vagasso with my dragon mouth, but he'd heard me well enough when he'd come to me at Moonlight, so I was confident he would hear me now.
I believe that life is precious. I never wanted to take it from anyone. But we all evolve, for better or for worse. You've changed me, and now you'll reap what you've sown.
I looped around and flew at him again.
I made a promise to hurt you. I know you hurt. I know you suffer. I know you fear. I also know you don't regret, and that's why there can be no other fate for you.
Vagasso, ugly and demented, flung up his mutilated pincer hands. But that was no defense against dragon of doom, dragon of destruction—dragon of retribution.
I opened my jaws wide. For Christian's father.
I bit down and wrenched. As I rose up into the air, I turned my neck and spat Vagasso's head out.
Blech.
I roared with triumph, though, because my enemy had been vanquished.
My dragon nature overwhelmed me at that point, my ancestral blood seizing control as ancient bloodlusts were appeased. I sort of lost myself for a while, crashing into buildings and burning palm trees.
When my human consciousness began to seep back into my dragon brain, I found myself flying at great speed toward Fremont Street. Pain seared my entire body. I had never hurt so much that I felt I was going blind from it. Venom burned through my veins. My dragon form was definitely dying. When I began to slow, thinking of landing and curling around my agony, I realized with shock that I held three human bodies in my tiger paws: my own, Vale's, and Christian's.
I nearly crashed to the ground. At the last second I remembered to keep flying for fear of doing my precious cargo any damage. I feared both men were dead—I remembered how they'd each been stung by Vagasso's stinger—but within my grasp they felt warm.
Heart-broken, suffering, unsure what I was doing, I flew by instinct alone, and my instinct called me to the Keyhole. I kept picturing the list that Uncle James had written, and the asterisks beside three of the businesses. The Shark Reef had been one, home of the capstone. What was the Keyhole home to?
The Rift had split Fremont Street and wrecked the overhead LED light display. Live wires sparked dangerously all over the ground and had cleared out whoever hadn't been driven away by the crack full of glowing, Hellish light. O' Malley's Casino, whose seal sat upon the million-dollar cash display, had been blasted with sorcery and now belched fire and smoke. Worse, there appeared to be fifteen or more demonic wolves skulking around it, guarding it for Vagasso. They'd be waiting a long time.
I landed carefully so as not to hurt the fragile human bodies in my grasp. I lay my body, Vale's, and Christian's down as gently as I could while the ground shook violently and the casinos fell apart around us.
Then I pulled out of my dragon.
I screamed when I did it. It felt as though I'd been doused in acid and my skin was ripping off. And yet, once I managed the shift out of the dragon body, coming back to my body was like diving beneath a waterfall in Hawaii. All of the injuries I'd sustained in my dragon form disappeared, though had I been killed as the dragon, my consciousness would have fled into the ether and my human body would have fallen into a coma from which it would never recover.
I didn't have to worry about that, though. I shakily climbed to my feet, shakily because the ground was rocking and rolling beneath me. I staggered to Vale first and checked him. He was breathing, a line wedged between his eyebrows as though he were in pain even while unconscious. I gently turned him on his side and checked his back.
"Oh, Jesus," I moaned in dismay.
Besides the horrible bruising from his broken ribs, an ugly balloon of venom had risen between his shoulder blades. Blackness radiated outwards from the blister in insidious tendrils. I didn't know jack about demonic half-scorpions, but I knew this blister of venom would mean Vale's death once it was fully absorbed into his body.
Looking around, it was easy to find a jagged piece of wood that had splintered off a sign for 2 for 1 margaritas. I snagged it and then placed the sharp tip carefully against the blister on Vale's back. I applied pressure until the wooden point pierced the thin skin of the bubble. Yellow, stinking liquid streamed out of it. I quickly positioned Vale so none of the venom would touch him as it poured out of the wound.
Gently, I milked the blister until the skin deflated and lay flat against his back. I could only cross my fingers that I'd spared him a fatal dose as I carefully propped him against a wall.
Christian was likewise unconscious. I had to tear through his shirt to reach the blister that had risen in the middle of his chest. Terrified about the position of this scorpion strike—so close to Christian's heart—I quickly pierced the blister so the venom could drain out. When the blister lay flat, I moved him beside Vale against the wall.
Maybe what I had done for them was too late. I couldn't wait around to find out. The Rift was about to disgorge demons, so I needed to form this Geminix thing, pronto. I looked at the busted sign for Elemental Entities. My dragon had decided to come here. I had to trust its instincts because I certainly couldn't trust my own. After double-checking that Vale and Christian were in a protected spot that would keep them out of harm's way, I dashed inside the bar.
The place was trashed, with overturned tables, chairs, and glasses clogging the floor. It was also deserted, so it was easy to sprint to the alcove and input the code into the out of order video poker machine. As soon as it opened, I jumped through the secret doorway and into the shifter speakeasy.
To my surprise, there were shifters here, hiding beneath booth tables.
"What's going on?" a young man asked me.
"Are we being attacked by Russia?" asked the girl who was with him.
"Get out of here!" I yelled at them. "Get away from the crack in the ground. Demons are going to come out of it!"
Normally, such a ridiculous-sounding statement would have been met with jeers. But the world had gone crazy enough that thankfully these shifters believed me. After a hesitation, they crawled out from beneath the tables and dashed to the entrance while parts of the ceiling fell in.
I looked around frantically after they'd gone. The place didn't offer any suggestions on how to make this Geminix thing. It was a bar. That was it. The paintings on the wall had been shaken off onto the floor. The pale blue and purple lighting flickered as if wires had come loose. Tables were overturned, chairs scattered. The cloying smell of alcohol and sweet fruit juice made me think that a Victoria's Secret body spray factory had exploded.
The only thing not completely wrecked was the physical bar, which continued to glow like a turquoise sliver of glacier ice. Was it a coincidence that it was the strongest built piece of furniture in the room? I dashed behind it and searched the doghouse where the bottles of liquor were kept. Nothing looked unusual or felt infused with magick. There was nothing. Nothing.
Why had my dragon brought me here?
I called up Lucky and ordered him to smash the bar top. The acrylic cracked. Strangely, it split in half width-wise. The two halves tumbled to the floor as though breaking apart to allow a tall ship to sail between them. Separating the two halves also revealed a wooden center support pole. A shallow metal cup the size of a Dixie cup sat atop the support. Bewildered, I reached inside it...and pulled out a small, red gemstone.
It wasn't plastic or paste. I knew in my gut that it was a genuine ruby. What could the significance be? It was obviously important since it was hidden beneath the bar, but what if it had nothing to do with the Rift? Were any of the other seals made of gemstones?
A memory shot through my head.
"Oh, my god." Understanding burst bright like a newborn star.
Breathless with excitement and that most dangerous of emotions—hope—I sprinted outside. I ran to Vale, but he and Christian remained unconscious where they lay. Knowing I didn't have the luxury of waiting for them to awake, I ordered Lucky to take hold of them both and zoom ahead while I ran after them up Fremont Street.
It was a madhouse, like running through an amusement park that sat in the path of an erupting volcano. So much fell from the roof and from the buildings that I had to run beneath Lucky's belly for protection. Tourists and casino workers, hiding beneath gaming tables and outdoor benches, saw us and gaped, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The Rift running up the middle of Fremont Street was now as wide across as a pool and was not only emitting orange light, but disgorging black smoke that occasionally took on menacing shapes. They were wraiths, struggling to find form in a new world. Soon, more powerful entities would emerge as the seals continued to weaken and fail. Time was not our friend.
We broke off of Fremont Street and entered my relatively quieter neighborhood. My lungs burned and maybe some of Vagasso's venom affected me even in this form, but I would have run on a pair of stumps before I gave up. At the depressing stone exterior of the Gallery of Veritatis, I had Lucky carefully set down his charges while I barreled inside. Echinacious, the goblin proprietor, appeared in the white room immediately, as if he'd been waiting for me.
"Anne, the end times are nigh," he told me with concern.
"No, they're not," I gasped. "This place is part of the key to sealing the Rift again. My uncle marked this place as special. Why?"
"You know what the gallery can do. That's the extent." Echinacious looked genuinely mystified. "I have no idea why your uncle would direct you here under these circumstances."
I held up the red stone. "You recognize this?"
The goblin narrowed his already beady eyes at it. "I do not."
"Well, I do, and apparently that's what's going to matter. Maybe. Hell, I don't know. I need to make a memory stain," I told him. "I'll pay you whatever you want."
He clucked his tongue as he touched the ceramic bust of Blackbeard. "Save the world and we'll call it even."
I jumped through the doorway as soon as the darkened room opened for me. As Echinacious set up a blank canvas, I quickly placed myself beside the gazing ball thing and set my hand on it.
"Hurry," I urged him.
He obligingly moved out of the way. "You have the memory in mind? One memory only, a moment in time."
"Yes! Yes!"
"Send only your sorcery, Anne. Now."
The ground shifted violently. I heard the foundation crack and saw the angles of the room began to warp.
"Do it, Anne!" he shouted.
I concentrated as if it were an Olympic sport. I focused my awareness on that one second in time as though I were Buddha himself. I shut out the shaking walls. I shut out the floor that bucked beneath my feet. I shut out the screams of horror I began to hear from outside as demons rose from the depths of the Earth.
On the canvas before me, a scene began to form in delicate-looking watercolors. Despite the urgency, I didn't panic, just let the scene paint out in invisible brushstrokes: the last thing I'd seen before I shot my dragon fire at the capstone.
"It's done!" I heard Echinacious cry out as part of the ceiling began to cave in.
I ran toward the canvas. I fell to my knees when the ground rocked. I crawled the rest of the way forward, gritting my teeth so I wouldn't accidentally bite my tongue off. I dragged the completed memory stain off the easel and to the floor with me. Then I took the ruby I'd found in the Keyhole and placed it against the perfectly painted copy of the capstone. I pressed the stone down, directly over the dragon's painted ruby eye.
The world exploded.
Chapter 11
It was as though a gambling god had tossed the planet Earth down the length of a galactic craps table. My feet actually left the floor at one point and I nearly vomited as my stomach likewise went airborne. Then I crashed to the ground again and went hurtling, end over end, until I slid to a stop. Flat on my back, with the painting of the capstone tossed to the other end of the room, I clenched my eyes shut and braced for the ceiling to collapse on me.
There was the sound of a tremendous bang! that made me scream and sent me sliding six feet across the floor and into the nearest cracked wall. Another bang! and a teeth-rattling shake of the ground.
Then all went still.
The lack of motion actually stunned me. I couldn't believe it or trust it. I lay with all ten fingers pressed to the floor in anticipation of another violent shake-up. Going
on ten minutes later, however, nothing happened.
I rose warily to my elbows and looked for Echinacious. He had likewise been thrown against a wall. The goblin climbed to his feet and dusted off his suit. He looked around him and then at me, on the floor.
"Anne, I do believe you've succeeded."
I wasn't prepared to believe anything of the sort. No way, no how. But I climbed to my feet also, keeping a wide base in case the Earth decided to begin twerking again. The memory stain of the capstone was at the other end of the room. I ran to it and quickly snatched it up off the floor—
—at least, I tried to. I nearly broke my fingers because the canvas was fused to the floor.
"What in the..." I bent for a closer look and could only stare in amazement.
"It seems you have elevated the importance of my gallery," Echinacious commented as he peered around my hip. "That could be seen as both good and bad."
I totally got where he was coming from. The memory stain I'd made of the capstone had, through some great sorcery, transformed into an actual, physical capstone. I yanked up more firmly on the canvas and the fabric tore up off the floor with a ripping sound, leaving the capstone firmly embedded in the floor. The ruby that I'd pressed against the memory stain's dragon now glinted in this newly made capstone.
Though it was needlessly risky, I bent down and touched the surface of it. It felt like polished stone and nothing more. The ruby wouldn't come up despite my picking at it with a fingernail.
I whirled on Echinacious. "Do you think this means the Rift is sealed again?"
"I would make that assumption, yes. The world seems to have settled."
I had to be certain. I ran out of the gallery and pushed through the front door. The sight of Vale and Christian lying on the ground like tossed trash derailed me from my plans, though.
"Oh, god," I gasped as I ran to their sprawled bodies and gently turned them both onto their backs. Both were pale and sweat beaded on their faces, but when I checked their wounds where Vagasso had stung them, it seemed to me that they hadn't gotten worse. The black tendrils around the stings hadn't spread any further through their skin.