by Tricia Owens
It's going. Why is it going? I'll meet His Highness at the morning tide. It's leaving me. Noooo.
Her odd rambling gave me pause, but only for a moment.
"Milkshake brains aren't normal," I said. "Zombies are supposed to eat brains, not lose their own. What's this about?"
I was a sorceress. I still am! More treasure than that is required if you want to lay waste to these hills. Curse Morgaine and his heirs for cursing me, cursing me. Curse him! She blinked her milky eyes wildly, a hint of cruel satisfaction crossing her face but then swiftly vanishing. He paid the price.
Morgaine. I assumed that must be French for Morgan. She was the one who had killed Vale's father and replaced him with a demon, hoping that Vagasso could use demon gargoyles to open the Eastern Infernus Rift. Not only had that plan been thwarted by the ancient magickal beings of Paris, she hadn't come away from the confrontation smelling like roses. On the contrary. She'd come out smelling like the undead.
Was that what had first brought her to Las Vegas? Had she hoped the vast amounts of chance magick generated here would somehow cure her affliction? Reverse it? And I wondered about Vale not knowing about her condition. Maybe he hadn't seen his father apply the curse. I'd never know. It was too late to ask him.
"What about this mess?" I waved over the pulp and ooze that continued to slide out of her open skull. It was pretty disgusting. "Why is this happening, too?"
Morgaine did something. Curses are telling. I'll never use too many. I'll use them on you. He turned me into this. It was a quarter century ago when the melting began. The sun dripping. The forgetting. The losing. The gonnnnnne...
"Twenty-five years ago, huh? That's when you decided you needed help from demons or the Devil to stop it." I shook my head as the pieces fell into place. "So you thought to try opening a Rift again, and discovered you needed a dragon this time: my mom."
I thought of the looped paintings in the Gallery of Veritatis. They hadn't been the result of meticulous planning. This crazy creature had used them out of fear because she didn't trust herself. She was losing her mind. Orlaton's father must have known this. It was why he'd encouraged his son's occult education. He'd wanted Orlaton prepared for a day when he could outwit the Oddsmakers in whom magickal dementia had begun to fester.
Magickal dementia...I didn't know if that was an actual thing, but whatever this lady had, it looked pretty devastating. That was good. That was friggin' fantastic. Except—
"Where are my friends?" I demanded as fire burned behind my eyes. "Where's my uncle?"
She began to laugh then. The sound was wild. Unhinged.
Friends? Allies? Whose banner flies overhead won't matter when the sorcery flows. I don't know what you're talking about. I can't rememberrrr.
"You're going to tell me where they are!" I screamed.
A part of me was aware that my last restraint had snapped, but the rest of me didn't care. Rage filled my head. I jumped to my feet as my chest swelled with heat and anger and—
"You don't want your dragon for this."
I recognized the voice, but I couldn't believe I had just heard it here in Sunset Park.
Orlaton carefully stepped from behind me like a cat stepping between mousetraps.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted, incredulous at the sight of him.
"I learned some things that you need to know," he told me. In the early dawn light his pale skin held a blush of color. It was surreal seeing him here. I still had trouble believing it.
"Is this your first time in a park?"
He gave me a bemused look, maybe wondering if I'd finally cracked beneath the pressure, before he turned a disgusted eye upon the thing in the ground.
"I learned your name," he said quietly, with venom. It was surprisingly effective, nearly making me step away from him.
She tried to grin up at him, a last defiance, perhaps. But with her brains dribbling out she couldn't maintain it. Fear swept back in, making her torn lips tremble.
"Evadne is what you call yourself," Orlaton went on, blue eyes burning bright. "You're quite old. You were a dark sorceress at the hire of kings and generals and anyone who would pay you to destroy their enemies. But it wasn't enough for you. You wanted empires of your own. And because you were dark, you tried to steal those empires with the help of demons."
I sicced the black on them. The Hell. Your father and your mother—traitors! All dragons and traitors and satyrs. Greetings, satyr spawn. Will you dance as they burn for eternity?
"No," he said with a faint smile of satisfaction. "My parents' souls have been freed. Thanks to Miss Moody."
Evadne's mouth opened and closed as she struggled to respond. I watched a tear slip from her milky white eyes, and I thought, Good. So many had died and been hurt because of her...revenge wasn't pretty or noble, but at the moment it spackled over some of the gaps in my heart.
"I did some research," Orlaton continued mildly. He pulled out a slim volume that looked more like a Zagat restaurant guide than a magickal reference book, except it was bound in what I'd bet a thousand dollars was human skin. "You can learn a lot from research, Evadne. Knowledge is power. That was my father's lasting lesson to me. It's how he's going to get his revenge on you."
He opened the book and ran his finger down a page. "You're in here," he murmured. He glanced at her from over the top of the book. "Not Evadne. Your real Name." He lowered his voice even further. His eyes narrowed. "Do you understand what I'm capable of doing to you with your Name?"
Evadne began to shake.
No. You can't. The horn is blowing and I'm off to fight. Merlin is there. He rides the winds. You can't call my Name...You can't!
"I can and I will unless you tell Miss Moody where her friends and Mr. Song are."
She blinked rapidly, reminding me of a dying, flickering TV screen.
They're in their graves. Why is my head hurting? Where is it going, going, going? I'm losing. I'm losing. Did you think I would allow them to live in the air?
I let out a bleat of pain and I would have kicked her in the head except Orlaton placed a restraining hand upon my arm.
"That might not mean what you think it means," he told me firmly. "She's a zombie, but not the ridiculous kind you've seen on television and in the movies. As the undead, she's bound to the grave. But as you learned, she can create lairs within the earth. Spaces to hoard the living."
"And how the hell are we supposed to find them when she's talking nonsense like this?"
He looked at me with something resembling pity. "Miss Moody, I believe for too long you have fought alone. It's time to allow someone else to carry some of the burden."
The idea was anathema to me. But I was also exhausted in every way. I nodded dully and then sighed. "Fine. I'll ask for help." I hesitated, though, and then stepped close to him. "Maybe it makes me a monster, but I made a promise regarding the Oddsmakers." I hoped he understood the look in my eyes because I couldn't bring myself to spell it out. "Evadne has done too many unforgivable things."
Orlaton was tougher than I thought. Or maybe he was more scarred. He didn't flinch. "You're not a monster, Miss Moody. You're too human. Just like me. Even had you not made that promise...I would have taken care of it myself."
"Bloodthirsty brat," I muttered, but I didn't really mean it. I was relieved.
Responsibility abdicated, I turned to look back at the remaining members of the Rebellion, searching for someone specific.
"Merry," I called out when I saw the yellow canary. I said wearily, "I need your help."
~~~~~
Merry, in her canary form, located Kusahara on Las Vegas Boulevard. He'd been overseeing the military's inspection of the repair sites that Evadne and the Hell hounds had been working on. In an unmarked vehicle with impenetrable, tinted windows, he followed the bird to Sunset Park. One look at the injured magickal beings and the destruction of the park and I could tell he wasn't happy. It meant a lot of work for him to conceal this from his military masters.
His unhappiness faded, however, when I introduced him to what remained of Evadne.
"Your Oddsmaker," I told him with a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm. I pointed at the body of the albino vampire. "That one, also. It was only the two of them."
Kusahara's smooth featured face reflected surprise and then a growing excitement, but before he could break into a jig, I said, "You need to help me find my friends and my uncle. She buried them somewhere beneath the earth."
At once, he was unreadable to me, which probably served him well when he interacted with government personnel, but it only served to piss me off.
"Look, I gave you what you wanted," I said hotly. "Now throw me a bone and help me with this one thing!"
"Calm yourself," he said. He studied Evadne, whose head lolled while her white eyes blinked spastically. "You're certain she's incapacitated?"
"Are you serious? The only thing she's not doing is drooling."
He frowned. "Alright. Yes. If they're underground, I have access to equipment that might locate them."
"Then do it."
He didn't like my ordering him around, but he didn't say a word before turning and walking away, a phone pressed to his ear.
"Miss Moody, would you like me to maintain possession of this, or...?"
I knew before I turned what Orlaton referred to. I still flinched, and my heart thrashed with denial at the sight of the broken pieces of Vale's gargoyle statue. Orlaton held them carefully, but it still didn't seem careful enough. I reached out before I knew what I was doing, cradling the pieces to my chest as if I could infuse my life energy into them as I did Lucky.
"I'll keep them. I'll keep him," I said softly.
"You should contact his brother."
I curled down around the statue pieces. "I can't. I did this."
"No, you didn't."
"Xaran will know it's my fault."
"Xaran needs to be made aware."
Of course he did. It was ludicrous to pretend I would never tell him that I'd killed his brother, indirectly or no. But at that moment, I just couldn't handle such a scene.
"Later," I murmured, avoiding Orlaton's gaze. "When everything's died down."
I wish I'd used a word other than "died."
~~~~~
"There's an anomalous space in the ground near Frenchman Mountain," Kusahara told me what seemed years later.
I must have nodded and said the right things, because when I resurfaced from my self-induced zone-out and paid attention to my surroundings again, he and I were in an open-topped Jeep, bouncing across the desert. I gasped, disoriented, but when I recognized the familiar weight in my arms and looked down at Vale's statue still held securely against me, I slumped in relief.
"Where are we?" I asked Kusahara.
Silvered aviators hid his eyes from me. "On the way to the possible location of your friends and uncle."
I twisted around to look back, but the city was far behind us. "What about Evadne?"
A tic jumped in his cheek. "Your friend Orlaton handled the situation. You don't need to worry about it."
"Tell me, Kusahara."
"He used her Name."
I blinked, unsure I'd heard him correctly. "But what did he—?"
"Anne," he said quietly but with finality, "you don't want to know."
"Oh," I said.
And then I closed my eyes, and I stopped worrying.
~~~~~
He had some kind of device, a box that looked like something out of Ghostbusters. As I stood on the hood of the Jeep, shielding my eyes as I studied the grim terrain, he adjusted the controls. Several minutes later he said, "I've found it."
But when he drove us to the spot indicated by the machine, an area the approximate size of a residential bathroom, I was discouraged. The desert appeared undisturbed. I didn't see any way of going underground. Would we have to dig? If we managed to get the right equipment out here would we accidentally collapse the structure beneath us and bury my loved ones alive?
I was paralyzed by indecision.
"I don't want to do the wrong thing," I said as I paced over the area, pulling at my hair. "I can't do anything to hurt them. I can't take that chance."
"You can't leave them there."
"You think I don't know that?" I laughed like a crazy person when all I wanted to do was cry. "If they're down there—they could be nearly out of air. They could be suffering, or being slowly crushed to death, I—" I had to stop and bend at the waist. I braced my hands on my thighs as black spots danced before my eyes. "Oh, god," I whispered as I clenched my eyes shut. "Vale, I need you. I don't know what to do."
Kusahara's polished black shoes appeared in my line of sight. They were filmed with dust and for some inexplicable reason that made him appear vulnerable to me, just another person I might one day have to defend.
"Time isn't on our side," he told me. I was sure I didn't imagine the sympathy in his voice. "We should act now."
I straightened up. The sun wanted to boil my brain in my head, and that made me think of Evadne. Fury rolled through me. I wouldn't allow her to succeed at this when I'd defeated her at everything else. Nearly everything else. So many had still died because of her...But I vowed that the death toll would end with Vale.
"I'm going to try tunneling through the dirt," I told Kusahara. I stretched my arms over my head. My body felt alien to me at that moment, yet going full dragon didn't comfort me either. I felt trapped in limbo, unsure who I really was. Was I a dragon or was I a sorceress? Could I be merely human?
"I can't warn them," I said as I scrutinized the ground, "but maybe if you, er, sang, they'll hear it and know something's up. That way they might be prepared in case I reach them, and everything falls apart. Maybe they'll be ready to act quickly."
Such a gamble. I could break through the wall of their shelter only to cause it to collapse atop them. A glimpse of them before I smothered them. I rubbed my stomach where acid roiled. "What do you think, Kusahara?" I asked, somewhat desperately.
He nodded once. "Plug your ears. It won't help, but psychologically you won't be able to stop yourself."
I covered my ears with my palms and braced myself.
There was no stoically withstanding a banshee's wail. I cried out as the piercing sound struck my eardrums and speared into my brain. The sensation was excruciating. Just as I was about to scream for mercy, the wailing stopped. I lowered my hands slowly, my ears ringing. The sweat that had risen to my skin evaporated quickly in the dry desert air.
"If they didn't hear that..." I trailed off. The alternative would be that my friends and Uncle James were already dead. I couldn't say such a thing aloud.
"The hollow is there." Kusahara pointed to an area. "About thirty feet below."
I nodded. "I'll start digging about fifteen feet over and then angle—"
The ground rumbled. I thought, seismic event. The desert exploded in the exact spot that Kusahara had indicated. Rocks and dirt rained down as Kusahara and I ran for cover. I saw a huge shadow cast across the ground, the impression of fire. I turned my head—
—and gaped in awe at the flaming red Chinese dragon that curled in the sky.
"What—" Kusahara began, but I began to laugh.
The dragon floundered in the sky as if unused to flight. In its dragon paws were clutched Melanie, Celestina, and Uncle James' unconscious body.
"Dios mio!" Melanie cried out. She looked down at us and waved. "Anne, can you believe it? Your uncle rocks my socks! Check out how red he is! He's beautiful!"
I wiped tears from my eyes. "Yes, Melly. He's beautiful."
~~~~~
Uncle James was inexperienced with his dragon. I ended up having to jump into my own dragon form so I could pin his red serpentine creature to the earth long enough for Melanie and Celestina to climb free and carry Uncle James' body to safety. Once they were safely away, though, I let him loose. It was surreal to fly and cavort with another dragon. I wanted to spend hours doing it, wanted t
o hear his roar alongside mine. For the first time in millennia, dragons flew in the world. If someone didn't think that was amazing then they were dead inside.
But it wasn't good for my uncle to remain in this form for too long his first time out. Every second spent as a dragon made the transition back to humanity that much more painful. So before either of us was ready, I wrestled his dragon to the ground until he got the message. And then I pinned his dragon down until Uncle James could manage the shift back to himself.
Once I was back in my own body, I ran to where he lay on the ground, coughing and groaning.
"Stay down for a moment," I told him as I gently pressed down on his chest to keep him still. "It takes some getting used to."
His laugh sounded pained. "Getting used to it...I'm not sure that's my intention."
I grinned. "You never know." I stroked his sternum. "Just rest. There's no hurry. Everyone's safe, thanks to you."
"No." He turned his head to blink up at me. His glasses were skewed. I carefully righted them on his face, but he caught my wrist. "I didn't want to do it." I flinched, but he went on. "I've always thought of it as wrong. History has taught me that our dragon natures are demons inside us that we need to suppress."
I settled on my knees, my shoulders curling inwards. "Maybe they are. Demons, I mean. Everything that's happened might have been avoided if our family wasn't descended from dragons. All the pain. All the suffering...It was because of who we are."
"No," he said sternly. He squeezed my wrist. "That was someone attempting to abuse us. To use us for their own gain. You chose to trust yourself, Anne, and I was not happy with your decision. It felt like defiance. Foolishness." He eased his grip. His thumb stroked my skin. "But when I heard that awful sound—a banshee's was it?—I knew in my heart that you'd found us even though I'd believed it impossible. I couldn't continue to arrogantly blindfold myself. We'd been labeled monsters for so long that I'd convinced myself that it was true. But you've shown me that we aren't monsters. We're dragons. We're terribly powerful, but we're not dangerous. We're guardians. We have a responsibility to keep safe those who are weaker than us."