“I don't know,” Calvin admitted. It was the truth. “Where else can I go?”
“You’ve made mistakes,” the ghost said, flatly. “But this one will only ensure that you will never be able to seek redemption for your earlier mistakes.”
Calvin rounded on him, feeling the mana starting to move of its own accord. “It's easy for you, isn't it?” He demanded. There were tears trickling down from his eyes. “Tough men who take no shit from anyone. It’s not so easy if you're born weak and you can't get any stronger and no one gives a shit about you as anything other than a punching bag. What did I do to deserve it?”
“That was then,” the ghost said. “What do you deserve now?”
Calvin stared, feeling guilt starting to claw at his soul. Harrow had wanted him to sacrifice Mindy and he’d rebelled, but only then. He’d spied on countless girls, invading their privacy, and then he’d murdered Sandra because Harrow had told him that she might have sensed what he was. And he’d had his fun with Gavin and Coach Thornton, and then he’d forced his way into Marie’s body, raping her. He was no better than Moe. Given vast power, and the freedom that came from knowing that no one would ever be able to hold him to account for his actions, he’d sinned. What had Sandra done to him that deserved the death penalty? Or Marie? Or the hundreds of people who had been caught up in the chaos as he escaped the NYPD?
Or Jewels, who had been honest and even kind? She had never set out to make fun of him; she’d even given him an education in just how great sex could be, if performed with a willing partner. What had she done to deserve to die? Or the other four people he’d sacrificed to boost his power?
And what sort of nightmare would Harrow create, given the chance?
He reached for the mana, intending to pull it away from the lock, but it was already too late.
Step by step, the prison was unlocking.
***
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier lit up with a blinding white light. Matt sensed the oncoming surge of mana and threw himself to the ground, noticing vaguely that all of the ghosts seemed to have followed suit. Sheets of power flared over his head, as if the lightning storm was right on top of him, followed by a long peal of sound that almost deafened him. It sounded almost like a scream of triumph.
And then the lightning died away.
Matt looked up, saw the figure standing where the monument had been, and knew that they were far too late.
The Queen of Nightmares was free.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Washington DC, USA
Day 36
Harrow took a long breath, her first in thousands of years.
The modern world stank. Strange smells drifted through the air, none of them pleasant, all hinting that the air was somehow diseased. Calvin’s mind had revealed that pollution was a major problem, but Harrow hadn't really comprehended it. What sort of idiots would pollute their own living space for generations? Clearly, the mundanes needed the firm guidance of those who wielded magic for their own good.
She smiled at the ghosts as they stared at her, their faces twisted in horror. There were a lot of ghosts, more than she’d ever seen in one place before, all of them wearing strange uniforms that were utterly unfamiliar. But all they could do was stare. The barriers between the living world and the Land of the Dead were weak in a place of power, yet even the most honoured dead could never fully return to the living. Their attacks on Calvin had been futile.
Harrow took another breath and looked up into the eerie sky. Vast amounts of mana had leaked out of her prison when it had collapsed, spreading out across the city. She reached out with her mind, absorbing as much as she could into her wards, but too much of it was already outside her reach. Not that it really mattered; the locals might have had some help from the past, yet it wouldn't be enough to save them from her. And even if she did nothing, such a vast increase in the mana field would cause its own disruption.
She looked down, towards where Calvin was lying on the ground, and then towards a single man running towards her, carrying a gun. The Hunter, Harrow realised, as she sensed the man’s very faint impression on the mana field. It was smart of the locals to send him against her, or Calvin, but not smart enough. It had never occurred to them that Harrow had been the apprentice of one of the magicians who had devised the Hunters, or that she might know their weaknesses. Hunting the supernatural creatures was important, but so was ensuring that their creations didn't get out of hand and start hunting magicians as well.
The Hunter lifted his gun and took aim.
***
The Queen of Nightmares was beautiful. And terrifying.
She was tall, inhumanly so, and very thin. Her skin was grey, her eyes were pools of darkness, surrounded by long dark hair that seemed almost alive. There was something about her face that was somehow wrong, even though Matt couldn't have placed his finger on it. And her body seemed almost as if it was hiding something, something inhuman...the more he stared, the more he wondered if she was still truly human. She was naked, but there was no hint of vulnerability surrounding her.
He lifted his gun and took aim, right at her chest. This time, they didn't dare try to take the magician alive. The Queen of Nightmares watched calmly as Matt took aim and fired, only to see the bullet glance off her wards. Golem had never warned him that his talent, however it actually worked, could be neutralised. Matt fired twice more, hoping that the first bullet had been a fluke, but it was useless. A moment later, a powerful force tore the gun from his hand and threw it out over the city.
The Queen of Nightmares stepped forward slowly and delicately, as if she were relearning how to use her legs. Flames licked at the ground around her feet, as if the very ground was rejecting her. Matt saw all kinds of ghosts surrounding her, as if they were trying to push her back with their sheer presence. The Queen of Nightmares seemed barely aware of their presence. Matt had the sudden feeling that he'd be joining them soon enough.
“I...am...free,” the Queen said. She spoke quietly, but Matt could hear each word echoing out over the entire city. “This world is mine.”
An invisible force grabbed at Matt, picked him up and held him dangling in front of the Queen. She studied him thoughtfully, as a scientist might study a new species of insect, before narrowing her eyes. Matt felt something twisting around his mind, as if she intended to try to brainwash him, and concentrated hard on the techniques for shielding himself that Golem had taught him. The Queen laughed and then threw him away with staggering force. He crashed down on top of a gravestone, feeling bones breaking with the force of the impact. Even with his regeneration abilities, it would be several minutes before he managed to get up and return to the fight...
But he didn't have the slightest idea what to do next.
***
Golem felt the mana field twisting, just before the force field snapped out of existence. He felt Harrow’s presence as soon as the field vanished, a mind that had a terrifying effect on the local mana field – and the sudden surge of mana from the prison. Harrow had literally centuries of experience in drawing mana into her wards and she was currently sucking up as much power as she could. Unlike a magician from the modern era, who wouldn't be prepared to absorb so much mana, Harrow would probably find it rather weak. But it would be enough to make her powerful and virtually immortal.
Enchanter had ordered him to keep the world safe from Harrow and her twisted comrades. And he’d failed. Feeling something rather akin to bitterness, Golem started to run, leaving the others to make their way after him as quickly as they could. It was easy to pinpoint Harrow, even if the ghosts hadn't been urging him on. Her presence dominated the area, her personality reaching out to rend and tear at everyone nearby. They hadn't called Harrow the Queen of Nightmares as a joke. Few magicians tried to use magic in the dreaming – it tended to have unfortunate effects – but Harrow had made it her speciality. And it had given her skills and abilities unmatched by anyone else, even the rest of the Thirteen.
&
nbsp; They’re not all out, Golem told himself. But if they had been, they would have been competing for mana in a very small space. Merely appearing together might have killed them, at least until the mana field grew much stronger. Golem knew very little, beyond theory, of the magic that kept someone firmly clinging to life, but he did know that they required vast amounts of mana.
He saw Matt go flying into a gravestone as he ran closer. The Hunter had had the best shot of any of them at killing Harrow, but she’d obviously prepared for his presence. Golem wasn't built to contemplate what might have happened if, yet he found himself wishing, bitterly, that they’d managed to kill Calvin Jackson before he escaped. Their obsession with taking him alive might have cost them the world. Calvin himself was lying on the ground, either dead or broken. Golem suspected that he’d outlived his usefulness to Harrow; if she hadn't made him any binding oaths, she would probably kill him out of hand. Whatever mana remained in his body after the unlocking spell would be a tasty treat for a sorceress.
Harrow turned to face him, her face twisted into something that resembled a smile. She was as terrifying as Golem had been told, even though she was the weakest of the Thirteen. And yet her magic had allowed her to send her mind wandering out in the modern world when the prison started to crack, giving her a chance to get out ahead of the rest of the Thirteen. She might even plan to betray them and leave them sealed up...no, she couldn't. Even if she hadn't sworn them oaths, she couldn't restore the prison without draining the mana again. It would mean certain death.
She held up one hand and Golem stopped dead, as if he’d crashed into an invisible wall. He felt her magic boiling around him, but Enchanter had worked all kinds of protections into his clay skin. Harrow might be able to destroy him – she had enough power for that, if she was prepared to spend it freely – yet she would never be able to rewrite his personality. Golem pressed against the invisible wall, quietly working spells that should have weakened it, and watched Harrow with unblinking eyes. She didn't seem troubled by his scrutiny.
“He tricked us,” Harrow said, calmly. Golem had expected murderous rage, not conversation. “He lured us into a trap and locked us away.”
“Yes. He did.” Golem pushed again, feeling Harrow’s magic pushing back at him. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince it to break. “You wanted godhood. You got it.”
“You will not lock me away again,” Harrow said. “We will walk on this land again and we will not be restrained.”
Golem braced himself as magic flared around Harrow’s long fingers. A moment later, a bolt of lightning struck him in the chest and sent him spinning backwards, followed rapidly by other waves of energy that tried to drill their way through his protections. Harrow had far more experience and flexibility than Calvin; Golem felt hot bursts of pain as flickers of energy burned through his defences and tore at his soul. The ghosts watched him mournfully, unable to affect the outcome of the battle. They were already dead.
A final burst of energy flickered out at him. Golem jumped backwards, desperately, dodging it by bare inches. Harrow seemed to be tiring of the game; the mana field was jumping wildly, as if she was drawing on it too strongly. Golem allowed himself to hope that she might accidentally weaken herself to the point where she was vulnerable, before realising that it wasn't going to happen. Harrow had too much mana stored in her wards to weaken quickly...
***
“Get up, lad.”
Calvin barely heard the ghost’s voice. The final backlash from Harrow’s prison had knocked him to the ground, leaving him feeling almost as if he were trapped in his own body. He could sense Harrow’s presence now, a terrifying pressure on the land that he’d never even realised she possessed, back when he’d first met her in dreams. Hindsight told him that he had been manipulated, that he had been tricked and used by someone who cared not a whit for him, or for the world. And he’d betrayed the entire world. Surely no one, not even the treacherous ghost, could make such a claim.
“You have to get up,” the ghost repeated. He seemed stronger, somehow; it took Calvin a moment to realise that there was so much mana floating around that the ghosts were drawing on it, becoming stronger. But they’d never become strong enough to stand up to a living magician, let alone to Harrow. “You’re the only one who can stop her.”
It was hard, so hard, to move his body. His hands and feet felt as if they were no longer truly part of him, leaving him wondering if cripples felt the same way. Somehow, he managed to draw on the local mana field himself, just enough to start the healing process. It felt like hours before he stumbled to his feet, feeling hideously unstable. Harrow was standing where the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier had been, staring down at her new world. She turned her head and looked at Calvin, a cruel smile playing over her face.
“I thank you,” she said. In the real world, her voice sounded terrifying, almost as if magic flowed through every word. Calvin knew how to shield himself from mental manipulation, but this was different, as if it was natural and right for him to bow his head. Somehow, urged on by the ghost, he managed to stay upright. “You have restored me to this world.”
“You tricked me,” Calvin tried to say. His voice sounded funny in his ears, as if his mouth had been badly injured and he hadn't even noticed, but Harrow understood. “You lied to me.”
“I never lied to you,” Harrow said. She sounded more amused than offended. “Everything I told you was true.”
Her face twisted into a grimace. “You did the rest of the work yourself,” she added. “I never forced you to revenge yourself upon your classmates. You darkened your own soul long before I told you what you’d need to do to help me – and save yourself.”
She was right, Calvin knew. He hadn’t been forced into anything, either through trickery or outright mind control. Either she hadn't had the power to compel anyone from inside her prison or the prison couldn't be unlocked by someone who wasn't working of his own free will...but it hardly mattered. She’d dangled temptation in front of him and he'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. He’d made a deal with someone far worse than the devil, he realised, as he saw the power crackling around her. Harrow’s very presence seemed to be turning the earth to ash.
He had to stop her, but how? All the spells she’d taught him were ones she knew how to counter, or simply absorb within her wards. This close, he could almost feel her wards tugging at what remained of his mana, threatening to drain him of power. The spell he was trying to use to heal himself kept faltering as the mana level dipped too low for it to work properly.
“You're insane,” he breathed. Thousands of years in prison, unable to leave – or to die – would be enough to drive anyone insane. “You’re mad.”
Harrow cocked her head, slightly. “You only just noticed?”
Calvin stumbled backwards from her mocking glare. The ghosts gathered around him, although he couldn't tell if they were bent on attacking him or trying to support him in the fight. But even if they were, he couldn’t see what to do. Harrow seemed completely invincible.
This is Washington, he realised, numbly. They’re not going to nuke her.
“Calvin,” a voice called. Calvin turned and stared in absolute disbelief. Mindy was coming towards him, riding an oversized dog. The mana swirled around the creature, marking it out as a werewolf. His little sister was riding a werewolf? “You have to stop...”
Harrow laughed, pointed a finger at the werewolf and said a single word. The creature snarled in pain and then twisted back into human form, sending Mindy tumbling off its back and falling down to the ground. A second word tossed the werewolf away, followed by a sudden surge of energy as Harrow prepared to kill Mindy. Calvin was stumbling forwards before he quite realised what was happening, putting himself between his sister and Harrow. The flash of light struck him and...
...He’d never felt such pain. Every cell in his body seemed to be on fire. Calvin screamed in pain, howling his shock and horror to the heavens, before feeling his entire body crum
bling into nothingness. It crossed his mind that Moe and his cronies must have felt the same way when he’d killed them, when he'd taken his first step into the darkness; it was somehow a relief to know that it was the end.
And yet, when he opened his eyes, he found himself alive. Harrow hadn't killed him, or had she? Looking down at his hands, they seemed translucent, almost transparent. Peering through them, he could see the remains of his body lying on the ground, burned to ash. She’d killed him!
He looked up and saw the ghosts. They seemed more solid now; no, he was weaker, no longer bound to flesh and blood. He felt himself cringing back under their cold gazes; they’d fought and died bravely, in countless wars, while he’d betrayed his entire country. And now he was in their power. They couldn't stop Harrow, because for all her great age she was still bound to a mortal form, but they could have their revenge on him.
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