“Right,” Rewsin says. “A challenge! I may need to call a friend or two.”
What happens next is hard to describe. Rewsin circles around the room, a spinning column of light and energy, joined in a moment by two others, looping around the sulfurous fire.
The last thing I feel is Karen pulling me back.
Chapter 38: DEALING WITH ZACH
The next thing I know, they’re gone. Zach is standing there, stunned, covered in soot. In my ears, a voice echoes. “My debt is fulfilled. Farewell, Stanley!”
Zach focuses on me, then holds out my athame and reaches out and grabs Meredith. I feel the beast in me surge, and he takes a step back.
“Let. Her. Go,” I growl.
My pants split, my shirt stretches, buttons pop. My blood burns hot as my face stretches, my teeth sharpen and lengthen, my nose forms a snout, and my hands turn to claws.
Zach’s in trouble. His blade isn’t silver. Even if he stabs me in the heart, I’ll still rip his head off.
Gilroy and Nevin have run off screaming for help, but there’s no need. Surely everyone can hear me howl.
From just a few feet away I leap at Zach. At the last moment he pulls the knife away from Meredith and slashes at me, but I smash into him with all my weight. He goes down, his head smacking into the floor with a dull thud. For a moment I just lie on top of him. He offers no struggle, no resistance. Can it really be this easy?
Karen crouches behind me. I can feel her cold breath. I want to talk to her but the beast can’t speak with words. Just with actions. With violence. My jaws are at his throat. I can feel the pulse within. Hear his shallow breathing. He lives. But not for long. His carotid artery pulses with hot blood. Just one quick snap and I can set it all free, yet I hesitate.
“Kill him, Stanley,” Karen whispers in my ear. “Think of what he was doing to Meredith.”
Just one quick snap. Nothing more. The beast is willing, but my humanity resists.
Is Zach right? Is that what I am, a murderer? Are we going to sacrifice Zach instead?
No.
My resistance grows, painfully, as my face retracts, my arms and legs twist and transform, everything retracting, shrinking, reforming. Before I can take a breath to scream, I’m just a freshman boy again, crouched half-naked in front of Zach.
“Move out of the way, then,” she hisses. “Let me do it.”
I let her push me out of the way. God, she’s strong. She reaches down. I’m not sure what she’s planning. To choke him? Twist his neck?
It’s amazing he’s still alive. That fall to the ground would have killed almost anyone. Almost anyone human, that is. Oh crap. He’s not human. What did Rewsin say about faeries?
As Karen reaches down, his eyes open.
“Bitch,” he whispers. “I can’t believe I ever went out with you.”
But his actions speak louder than his words. His hand flashes out, my athame, black and defiled, slicing into her arm, spraying blood onto the floor. He jumps to his feet. She’s out of reach before he can strike again, but the damage is done.
“You coward,” I growl. “You don’t fight fair.”
“Fair?” Zach chuckles. “She’s the one who ruined everything in the forest. And now here, again. Fair? That’s a good one, Stanley.”
He’s got a blade in his hands. My bloodied blade.
That’s when I lock eyes with him, and him with me. And I fall into madness. How can so much hate and ill will fit into a human being? Start with being pulled away from your demon mother when you were nothing more than a baby. Because he’s not human. He’s not even pure faerie. He’s a halfling, and a changeling to boot. If only it ended there, but I get to see how he acted out, how his natural aversion to eating flesh grew into a hatred for all meat eaters, for the impurity all around him. How all the iron around him stinks and burns. How he yearned to escape, not knowing to what, until his father contacted him at last in his dreams. And showed him what he must do. Finally he could leave his impure foster family and come home. But not before gathering some human children together and a cat for one final experiment, one ceremony...
I break eye contact, and I’m on him again, half-naked, half-wolf and half-human, but one hundred percent biting and screaming rage.
There’s a disconnect here. A cut in my consciousness. One moment I’m jumping on him, and the next thing I know, Karen is pulling me off. Her hands are cold and strong and pull me back in a wave of cold, prickly pain, an inundation of my senses.
Everything is roses. Blood red petals fill my mouth, clog my nose with their sweet scent. Prickly thorns pierce my welcoming skin. I sigh softly.
She lets me go. My senses clear. Unfortunately. Because now a nasty, coppery taste fills my mouth. Like when I bit my lip.
Blood.
But this time it’s not my lip that’s bleeding.
I spit and bring my hand up to wipe my face, but my hands are covered in it. And none of it is mine. Zach lies on the floor underneath me. It’s impossible to focus. How did this happen? There are things wrong with him that disturb me.
But most disturbing of all? My hunger: it’s gone.
And I’m afraid to look at what’s left of my feeding.
Above me Karen stares down, her face twisted. Is she afraid of me? Of Zach? Or is it the blood?
Who knew one body contained so much red? It covers me in tangy tacky stickiness; I reek of slaughter. My God, I’ve killed him. Or even worse if he lives, I’ve infected him. Given him the curse.
I back away and look around me.
Gilroy is gone. Connor too. And Nye. It’s just me and Karen, and the sleeping hostages. And Zach.
“Where?” I ask. “Where are they?”
“They ran off to try to stop Gilroy and Nevin — before they could alert the guards.”
“And Meredith? And Carolina?”
“They’re fine, Stanley. But we all need to get out of here.”
“The door?” I ask. “Do we go out the door, then?” I look around for it. But it’s gone.
“I closed it,” Karen whispers next to me before I even feel her moving. “We’re trapped here now.”
I shake my head slowly. My hand finds my pocket. The key is there, solid, small, and heavy. But my eyes flit to Meredith and Carolina.
“Should we try to wake them?” I ask.
Karen bends down and smells Carolina’s breath. She shakes her head. “They’ve been drugged. They won’t wake until it wears off.”
“What can we do, then?” I ask.
“Carry them,” Karen says. “You carry Meredith, and I’ll get Carolina.”
From far away I hear a ringing bell. An alarm. But Karen’s staring at me, her nose gently sniffing the air. Her pupils are huge.
“Maybe I should go get them,” I say. “Leave you here.”
“No,” Karen says, turning away. “Don’t leave me alone with him.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I know you were mad at him, but still, you guys were together for—”
“It’s not that. It’s not Zach. It’s not you. It’s the blood.”
My eyes want to dart over to Zach. Is he dead? Shouldn’t I be trying to save him? I’m afraid to even touch what’s left of him. Could there be life in his ravaged face? Or is it just so much meat?
Just then I hear a cry, then footsteps running our way.
Connor bursts into the room, followed by Nye.
“We don’t have long,” Nye gasps, slamming the door shut behind him. “Gilroy got away from us, but he’ll be back soon. The alarm has been raised.”
Then he sees the body. And me. He shakes his head, unable to makes sense of the scene. “So much blood,” he says. “What happened?”
“Did he hurt you?” Connor asks.
I shake my head. “The blood isn’t mine.”
Connor nods, then looks at Zach. His face pales, and he looks away. “This is all wrong. We need to get out of here.”
Nye stands by the queen. “I should take h
er,” he says. “Perhaps Morgaine will offer her safe haven when she finds out Gilroy is behind all of this.”
He reaches down and grabs her, pulling her up into his arms.
“But how can we get out of here?” asks Connor.
“With this,” I whisper, holding up the small golden key.
“A key?” Connor says. “But what does it open?”
From behind the door there are voices again. Coming back this way.
Karen grabs my hand. “Try to do what we did before, Stanley. Quickly.”
We close our eyes as her cold hand squeezes mine, flooding me with pain and pleasure. But I ride the wave of blood red rose and focus on a door leading out of here. On a door back toward home. Focus on the stairway and then, finally, on a symbol: a circle with an eye in the middle.
When I open my eyes, the door is back. My hand reaches forward and opens it. I jump through, Karen right behind me, but there are shouts behind us. We set down Meredith and Carolina on the stone floor and turn back to look through the doorway.
Inside the chamber there is a tremendous noise, and the door crashes open. Two Seelie warriors in black armor burst into the room, looking around wildly. Nevin is close behind them.
Nye has drawn his blade. The sleeping queen is still draped over one shoulder.
“Come on!” I shout, but Karen moves. Leaving Carolina on the floor, she jumps back into the room, a red blur knocking over Nevin, then pulls my companions back toward the door.
Gilroy, dressed all in blue, leaps into the room. That’s when he sees his son and screams.
But I’m distracted. Because over the stench of Zach’s blood, not far off, I can smell something familiar. Max. He’s close by, but afraid to come closer, I think. I’ve got to get him, but how?
Connor fights with both arms, a blade in each hand, back to back with Nye. Nye, the unconscious queen on one shoulder, holds off the Seelie with his other arm.
“Zacharias is down!” comes a shout. “To the queen!”
Suddenly I feel a familiar touch. In my mind. A voice, which replaces the stench of drying blood with sweet burning sage, and other voices, raised in chant. My mother.
Call Max, Stanley. We’ll help, but call him to you now!
“Max!” I hiss, and feel myself reaching out to him, some unknown part of me, untapped energy, and energy from far away, all trying to make a connection. And we connect, but maybe it’s too late.
Two more knights enter the room bearing crossbows.
“Stop, Neiran,” Gilroy shouts, as behind him something streaks toward the door. “Let go of my mother, or we’ll shoot.”
“Ah,” says Nye. “Wouldn’t that be convenient? First you drug your queen, then you shoot her.”
A crossbow bolt flies through the air and hits home, but Karen has stuck out her uninjured arm and grabbed hold of Nye. She pulls him back toward the door, dragging the queen with him. Then I grab her and we jump back in, just as a small gray streak races through the room, dodging feet and legs and arms.
At the last moment, a stinking ball of fur hurls itself into my waiting arms.
And we smash the door shut.
Chapter 39: SLEEPING BEAUTIES
Meredith lies sleeping on the stone by my feet, but I only have eyes for the warm ball of fur in my arms. Tucked against my chest, Max licks my hand, his tongue rough and welcome.
Nye bends over the body of the Seelie queen. “She sleeps still,” he says. “And she is uninjured.”
“But you yourself are hurt,” says Connor.
“Just a bolt in the shoulder,” says Nye, through gritted teeth.
“And if it’s poisoned?” Connor asks.
“Then I’ll die,” says Nye. “As you well know, all things come to an end.” He turns to look at me. “Will you pull it out?”
“Pull it out?” I ask. Meredith lies sleeping on the stone by my feet and I’m having trouble focusing on anything else. Karen is bleeding a little, but she’s tied her black long-sleeved shirt over the wound to slow the flow. Vampires must heal fast like us werewolves, or they would be a lot easier to kill. Besides, who are we talking about here? Karen is tough. She’s unbreakable.
Meredith, though, I worry about. At least I can hear her breathing down on the floor. Because she’s snoring.
“Stanley? Can you pull it out?”
I look at Nye’s shoulder, where the tail end of a crossbow dart protrudes, surrounded by blackening blood.
“Is it silver?” I ask, afraid to touch it.
“No, far worse for me,” Nye says. “I’m afraid it’s iron. It burns my blood.”
Nye lays the sleeping Seelie queen down carefully at his feet. Then he takes a step away and holds himself steady.
“I’m ready, Stanley.”
“All right, as long as it isn’t silver,” I say, letting Max carefully down to the floor. He stands, ready, next to my feet. My hands grab the dart. It’s slippery. Slippery with Nye’s blood. To his credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “One, two, three, go,” I say. Then I pull with all my might. There’s resistance, but Nye doesn’t twist away. How can he stand as still as a statue? At last it gives, and the dart comes out with a popping noise.
“Aargh,” Nye says quietly.
The blood flows freely now from his shoulder, black and thick.
Nye spits into his palm, then presses his hand against his shoulder. He closes his eyes for a moment and is still. The bleeding slows, and he opens his eyes again. “That will give me a few more minutes,” he says.
“What did you do?” I ask.
“A trick of the folk,” he says. “I don’t think it works for humans...or for vampires, either.”
“Can we get going?” Karen asks. “If my mother wakes up and sees me out of bed she’s going to kill me.”
Nye looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Your kind is hard to kill,” he says.
“It’s a figure of speech, okay?” she says, rolling her eyes. She picks up Carolina from the floor with a grunt. “But can we go, already?”
Nye nods. “It would be better for me, too, to make haste. I fear the dart was poisoned.”
“Yeah,” Karen says. “I don’t think that knife that cut me was covered with Neosporin, either.”
Nye looks confused. “With what?”
“Forget it,” she says. “Like you said, my kind is tough to kill.”
When everyone has picked up their sleeping burdens and Max has perched himself again in the crook of my arm, we climb. It’s harder going upstairs carrying a girl who weighs almost as much as I do, but I’ve certainly gained a lot of strength in the last few months. It seems that with every change I become stronger. But I’m afraid that my strength isn’t the only thing growing inside me. The beast is stronger, too.
Meredith groans, lying prone, her stomach against my left shoulder. Is she dreaming? Of me? Of the ceremony that awaited them? Of whatever happened when I should have been with her? I’m filled with guilt, and I just want to keep her safe now. Not let her out of my sight until she’s out of harm’s way and awake.
We climb up to a landing. The door is large, yet modern. It looks like a front door of a big office building. But there’s no keyhole, just writing in the middle of the steel.
“Morgaine’s room, house of Whelan.”
I open the door and bright light blinds me for a moment. Obviously someone here has not gone to sleep. Blinking, I pass through the portal and hear a gasp. In a moment Morgaine is in front of me, looking shocked and fearful.
She lets out a short scream, then recognizes me.
“We tried to reach you, Stanley, and your mother was sure she had connected, but...the others?”
Before I can answer, Karen appears behind me carrying Carolina.
“We need help, Morgaine,” I say. “They’re bewitched by the Seelie prince.”
“Gilroy?” she asks.
Then Nye enters, carrying the Seelie queen.
“But Neiran,” she gasps. “The queen? How cou
ld you? That is an act of aggression. You could start a war!”
Blaine is behind her now.
He takes a moment to take in the scene.
“How did you get here?” he asks.
“We’ll tell you in a moment,” I say. “But we need to put down our burdens, and Nye’s been hurt.”
Morgaine ushers us over to her bed and some couches. We lay down Meredith and Carolina. And then the queen.
Max leaps down to stand by my feet.
“But the queen?” Blaine says. “How could you take the queen?”
“She was imprisoned in a drugged sleep,” Nye says. “I could not leave her there.”
“You had no allegiance to her,” Morgaine says bitterly. “Only to your own queen, and to me, if you spoke true before.”
“Eleanor is my queen’s sister. I couldn’t leave her thus.”
“But how did you get here?” Blaine asks us.
It takes just a moment to explain to him about the stairs, and how they took us out of the blocked gateway and into the queen’s chambers, then back to his house.
“You expect us to believe that?”
“You have a better explanation for what happened to us, Whelan?” Connor asks.
Blaine shakes his head. “I’d heard of the stairs, but I thought they were lost to us forever.”
“Lost they were,” says Nye. “But not, apparently, forever. Stanley here found them.”
“Karen helped me,” I say.
She shakes her head, weakly. “It was you, Stanley.”
But she doesn’t mention the golden key, and I’m grateful. I don’t really want to hand it over right now, although maybe it really isn’t mine. I mean, finders keepers, losers weepers, but maybe it belongs to Blaine.
Suddenly, Nye groans.
“You’re injured, Neiran,” Morgaine says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“But I did,” I say. “I just told you. A crossbow dart.”
Nye’s face has grown even paler; I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. He staggers and falls down into a chair, squeezing his wound.
“We thought perhaps you could heal him, Morgaine,” Connor says.
“Of course,” she says. “If it’s not too late. We’ll let the others sleep now.” But then she catches sight of Karen holding her arm.
Wicked Hungry Page 21