by J. L. Murray
"What the fuck do you care?" I said, stepping toward him again. "You brought me back. That's what you said, right? That you brought me back."
"I didn't say anything to you," he said, trying to stand and falling back again. His feet were scrambling in the dirt of the road. "We've never met!"
"That's not true," I said, advancing slowly, pulling my knife out of my belt and testing the blade on my finger. "I've never met you, that's a fact." I smiled broadly, and in the light of the moon, I swore I could see his face turn green. "But you've met me." I crouched in front of him. "Haven't you, Abel?"
"I'm unarmed," he said quietly. "You don't kill the innocent. That's what I like about you."
"But you're not innocent," I said, smile still in place. "Unarmed now, but only because you shoved your power into an honest woman, a wife and a mother. She killed her husband tonight, did you know that?" He nodded woodenly. "Of course you did. Because you expected it." He was breathing heavily. "Have it your way," I said, gripping the handle of the knife.
"Wait!" he screamed. "I was waiting, yes. I was, I'm sorry. I was waiting for...the woman, the police officer."
"You don't even know her name, do you?"
"I'm not good with names," he said, panting, "I'm sorry. I'm over 2,000 years old!"
"Why were you waiting for her, Abel?" I said. "Why were you drugging her?"
"I didn't expect her to attack me," he said. "Not in her state. But she knew. I don't know how she knew it was me, but she did."
"She's a smart one," I said. "Why were you waiting for her?" He shook his head and I lunged, pinning him down, my knees on his tiny arms. I placed the knife gently against his jugular, feeling his pulse through the knife, bending low until my mouth was almost touching his ear. “You’re going to tell me everything," I whispered. "I have all night. And if you know anything about me, you know that I like to take my time. So let’s have a nice, long chat."
"I'm sorry!" he said, his voice high and panicked. "I'll take it back. I'll go away. I'll never bother you again."
"Too late for that," I said, rising up and pressing on the knife at his throat, feeling a rush of satisfaction when a jewel of blood rose from his skin and dripped down the side of his neck. "Why were you waiting for her, Abel?"
"To save myself from my brother," he said. "I'm always hiding, but he's always there when I don't expect him, plunging a knife into my heart, putting a bullet in my brain, an ax in my neck."
"Cain," I said.
"Yes."
"Esme. Talk."
"I was going to give her to the Mother," he said, blinking back tears. "I was going to trade her for my freedom." I watched him as he twitched underneath me.
"The Mother wants to kill you," I said.
"She would never know who I was," he said in a rush. "She can only seek the power. The Mother doesn't know who I am without my balefire, because she sees in terms of magic. Darkness, light, gods, humans. And, of course, those with the blood of Cain. If I offered the woman— Esme—the Mother would see my balefire and kill her, and I would be free. Free from the Mother, free from Cain, free from magic. I could grow old and die. And stay dead."
"Is that so?" I said. “She can only find you by your power?”
"Yes!" he said. "Maybe. It's a theory. The dark creatures have not been seen for thousands of years. No one knows what they're capable of now.”
"You were going to let her kill Esme."
"What?" he said, blinking, remembering my knife at his throat.
"You were going to let Esme die."
He narrowed his eyes. "I was the first child of Eden. What right have you to judge me?"
I grabbed his ear hard, and before Abel even had time to panic, I sliced into his flesh. It took him a moment before the pain hit him, before he realized the warmth gushing down his neck and into his hair was his own blood. He screamed, his eyes wide with horror and pain. I smiled again.
"Just your earlobe that time," I said, holding it up so he could see it. "Next time it'll be your whole ear, you contentious piece of shit. I'm judge and jury tonight, asshole. Want to go for the trifecta? Judge, jury, and executioner?" I could feel the thumping in my chest, the power jumping under my skin, the scritching in my head. But I pulled back from it this time, afraid of the destruction I might cause. Would the highway above us crumble? I wasn't sure. I tossed the earlobe at him and he gagged.
"I thought I could control you," he said, breathless. "I didn't know you would realize so quickly. That raven. Good God, it's unholy." As if in reply, my raven screamed at him and jumped onto his forehead, taking a peck at Abel's nose. Abel shrieked again, his nose bleeding along with his ear, and the raven hopped up onto my shoulder.
"How powerful am I?" I said, my voice soft now, the thumping in my chest too much to bear. I closed my eyes, trying not to kill him. Esme depended on me.
"More powerful than she is," he said, his voice tired. "The Mother of Hearts fears you."
"She doesn't fear me," I said, "she's been waiting for me. And might want to eat me. It’s unclear which is more important to her."
"You are more than they are," he said. "You are the conduit between the two worlds. You were born to walk between the two like a tightrope. You are as powerful in the Darkness as you are in the Light. They want your power. And you are young now, inexperienced; you still stop yourself from believing what you can't do, what is not possible. One day you'll forget what you don't believe, and be stronger than them all."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? Fuck off," I said, opening my eyes. He was staring at me with an expression of awe. "I was born to a redneck preacher. "
"It doesn't matter who you were born to," Abel said, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "When my brother opened up the holes in the world to let Lilith's brood out, he opened more than that and he knew it. He likes to kill me, that's true enough. But he was after more engaging entertainment."
"He let them out on purpose," I said. "Lilith's monsters."
"In a sense," he said. "He opened the doors, and Lilith woke them. For something so pithy as revenge."
"No, she didn't," I said. "How could she wake them? She made me promise to kill them."
"But why?" said Abel. "Why would she want her own children dead?"
"It was the right thing to do."
Abel laughed, blood from his nose dripping down and staining his teeth. "Lilith never did anything for the good of the world."
"Then for the Mother of Hearts. Maybe it was part of the agreement."
"Whatever you think you know about Lilith," said Abel, seeming to forget his fear for a moment, "it's smoke and mirrors. She's not who you think she is. All she's ever cared about is blood and death and revenge. There was power in her brood, her own power. Don't ask me where she got it, I don't know. But in the grisly end, where do you think the power from all her little monsters goes when they die? When you kill them?"
I swallowed hard. "Right straight back to her," I said. I remembered Ome telling me I had to kill the monsters, but in killing them I was making things worse. Now I understood.
"Can you imagine? Killing your own children for a little extra bit of magic? She still doesn't know she started a war."
"What do you mean, she started a war?"
"The Darkness is full of things that were not happy about having to go away," he said. "Magnificent things, but oh so dangerous. You've met one or two of Lilith's children, and she was half human. Imagine what their fathers look like. The Mother of Hearts is a lost puppy compared to what's coming. They're all going to come slithering out soon," he said. "Right after the Mother kills everyone you love and plucks the hearts right out of their bodies."
"The Mother is starting with you and Cain," I said. "You're just trying to save your own skin. Again."
"She'll kill your lover, you can count on that. Because he is of Cain, is he not?"
"So?" I said. "Lots of people have the blood of Cain."
"And they will all d
ie," said Abel. "She won't stop there. Maybe she won't ever stop. But she is not going to find me. She's going to find Esme."
"You'll take the power back," I said. "You'll save Esme and then we'll talk about the Mother."
"It's complicated," he said.
"Uncomplicate it."
"I need rest," he said. "It will take all my energy to pull it out of her. I'm not lying, I swear. If I try to do it exhausted, I could kill her and myself."
"You kill her," I said, "then you really did kill yourself. Because I'll slit your throat."
I took his other earlobe for good measure and my raven carried it off into the night.
FIFTEEN
Abel scrambled over the rubble without giving me any trouble. The gap at the top was plenty wide enough for two people, side by side, though I had to crouch low to avoid hitting my head on the top of the tunnel. The house standing in front of us on the other side was straight out of a horror movie. The roof was sagging, and the whole house had the feel of rot, slowly falling in on itself. Several windows were broken and had been covered with cardboard from the inside.
Dekker was standing on the porch drinking a beer, and for a moment seemed as if he were holding up the house all on his own. His straight, strong body didn't belong under the decaying slope of the roof, the broken and too-dark boards under his feet. But then he raised the bottle to his lips and the feeling disappeared.
"Helped myself to a drink," said Dekker to Abel. "Looks like you've been here for a while. One might think you were hiding from someone." He nodded at me as we came up the steps. "He doesn't look half as bad as I thought he would. You let him keep his ears."
"Guess I'm going soft." I looked at Abel, still wearing a white lab coat, though most of it was stained red now. Blood was clotting on his face under his nose, caking his neck and still seeping from his missing earlobes, and his glasses were cracked on one side and sat nearly sideways on his face. He let out a small whimper. "I showed restraint," I said. "Where's Esme?"
"Still sleeping on a moldy couch," said Dekker. "You okay?"
"Is she okay?" said Abel.
"I've got some clothesline inside," said Dekker. "We can tie him up."
"You don't need to tie me up," said Abel. "I'm safer with you than running on my own. Even with your violent tendencies."
"Aw, that hurts," I said. "You used to love my violent tendencies. Besides, you just told me the Mother wouldn't know you without your powers. Don't con a con, asshole. We'll tie you up, let you get some rest, and then you'll save my friend."
"Some friends," Abel scoffed.
Dekker grabbed him by the back of the neck and brought his face close to his own. "Don't ever talk to her like that again," he said softly. "I'm not as sweet as she is." When he let go, I could see that Abel was shaking. His expression was defiant, but he didn't say anything. I could tell it was hard for him, though.
"Must be a bitch being just another human again," I said.
"Perhaps you'll have the pleasure one day," said Abel, his voice friendly, but everything about his body language radiating repressed anger. "Can I at least have one of my beers?"
"Fine," I said. "Maybe it'll help you sleep. Because that's what you need, right? Sleep?"
"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't lie to the great Frankie Mourning."
"Since when?" said Dekker, draining his beer, setting the bottle on the railing. He watched Abel for a moment, his face suddenly a mask that I couldn't decipher.
"We need him, Dekker," I said. "He can help Esme."
"So he says," said Dekker, not taking his eyes from Abel. "Did you ask him?"
"Ask him what?"
"Why he wants me dead," he said. "You remember that, don't you, Abel? You made the wraiths tell Frankie to kill me. Why?"
Abel took a step back from Dekker, his back hitting me. He looked around, his eyes twitchy. "You need me," he said. "Don't forget. The woman will die."
"Maybe it'll be worth it to kill a worm like you," said Dekker. "Why did you want me dead?"
"I didn't," said Abel, shaking his head.
"The wraiths just came up with that all on their own?" I said. "They don't do anything without you."
"They're not even mine anymore," Abel said. "They're more yours than mine. They always were."
"Why?" I said, surprised.
"They come from darkness," he said, his words fast, scared. "You all come from darkness. I tried to create more, I tried to use a human, but it made her mad, insane. The only real wraiths come from the other side."
"My sister," I said through gritted teeth.
"Yes," he said. "A grave mistake on my part, I'm afraid."
"A grave mistake," I repeated. "Maybe it would be worth it to kill you."
"Why did you want me dead?" Dekker said softly, wrapping his large hand around Abel's small neck.
"I didn't!" he exclaimed, trying to wriggle away. "I mean, not you!" said Abel, his voice strained as Dekker put pressure on his windpipe. "I said I wanted Thomas Dekker dead! Thomas Dekker! Not you, not you at all!“
Dekker froze, his hand on Abel's throat. His eyes flicked to me and he took his hand away, and Abel fell to the ground, coughing. Dekker took a step back.
“I just wanted her to know the truth,” Abel croaked from the ground. “She deserved that at least.”
"Dekker?" I said, watching him. I didn't understand what was happening and I blinked at him dumbly. “What’s he talking about, Dekker?” There was a sound like wings flapping, and I looked out to see a wraith, pulling the shadows in to itself as it stood in front of the porch.
"Give him to ussss." The voice oozed and hissed in my head, broken glass against teeth. Another wraith materialized, unfolding from the shadows. "He is ours, ours, ours," it grated, joining the first. Another wraith, then another, then another. Until the front yard was so full of wraiths that I couldn't see the tunnel beyond, I couldn't hear anything but the cacophony of voices in my head all saying nearly the same thing: Give us Abel, he is ours, ours, ours.
"No," I said. "We need him. A woman's life is at stake."
"We will return him," came the voice, and a wraith flickered and appeared at the bottom of the steps. "You will have him, Frankie Mourning. You will have us all. But we have quessstionnsssss."
"Questions?" I said.
"We cannot remember. We have forgotten our home, home, home. Give him to us."
"I thought you were ready to follow me," I said. "And now you're making demands."
"We could take him, him, him. We ask out of respect. For you." Then the wraith did something odd. Its body creased and its hooded face looked toward the ground. I realized it was bowing. Then, as one, the rest of the wraiths followed.
"Frankie," said Dekker behind me. I ignored him.
"Are you really not human?" I said. "Any of you?"
"We do not know, know, know," said one of the wraiths. "We do not know anything. Abel, Abel, Abel. He held usssss."
"No," Abel said, his lip quivering, a string of drool slipping from his mouth, silver in the moonlight. "No, please. Frankie, I beg you."
"Don't do this, Frankie," said Dekker. "We can handle Abel ourselves. Letting these things take him, it's not right. They won't bring him back in one piece."
"These things are from the darkness," I said without looking at him. "And so am I. I don't know how or why, but we're made of the same stuff. And they deserve to know who they are."
"NO!" Abel said and latched his arms around my leg. "Don't! Don't let them take me!" Disgust bubbled up inside of me. He blinked at me, big sloppy tears filling his eyes.
"Frankie, what about Esme?" said Dekker.
I kicked hard, hitting Abel in the chest with my boot. He let go of my leg. "Did you bring me back?" I said, crouching down, pulling out my knife. "Did you bring me back, or did I waltz right back on my own? Did you fucking bring me back from the dead?"
He winced, and his eyes went wild. Dekker nudged him with his foot. "Answer her."
; "No," he said, a whine in his voice. "But I stitched you up. I put you back together. With nothing but love, Frankie, there was love in the stitches, the bandages, I cleaned your wounds. Doesn't that count? Can't you see the care I've taken with you?"
"I'm not a bird fallen from a tree," I said, between clenched teeth. As I said it, there was a real flutter of wings this time, and the raven, my raven, came and landed on the railing of the porch, watching Abel through white, clouded eyes.
"You don't even know what you can do yet," he said, suddenly angry. "I took care of you, Frankie. I made you strong. You should be thanking me."
"You just don't know when to keep your mouth shut," Dekker said to Abel, seeming tired. "Frankie, what about Esme? That's why we're doing this, remember?"
I stood up and looked at the wraiths. I looked down at Abel, crying on the ground. I looked at Dekker. I tried to understand what Abel had said. But Dekker's face told me everything I needed to know. He couldn't meet my eyes, and I knew. I looked back to the wraiths, forced my voice strong. I couldn't let them see how weak I felt in this moment, I couldn't let them see.
"No," I said. "I need him. My friend will die without Abel. I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to take him."
"She is not your friend, friend, friend," a wraith said, moving forward, the air flickering around it. "She would have you dead, dead, dead."
"She can try," I said.
"We will take him," said another, joining the first, the shadows moving around them like a flicker on a TV screen. I could feel my hair standing on end. Another wraith joined the first two, then another, until every wraith floating in front of the house were gathered in a cluster of static and moving shadows and menace just below the front step. I moved away from Dekker and Abel and stood in front of them. I ground my teeth so I wouldn't scream. The energy coming off them ground at my bones, antagonizing the darkness inside me, making it twitch and jump and stretch until I felt it would tear me apart. But I held it, somehow. It didn't seep through my pores, and it didn't shove its way through my mouth and eyes. I was controlling it. Barely.