Fury Convergence

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  What do we do? Branwyn didn’t know. She’d recovered a little of her wits on Silver Horse’s back, but she knew just how unstoppable the beast of fire and thorns was. Brynn had said it needed eight more souls. Was that the only way to banish it? What did that mean for Rhianna?

  The beast sprang forward, and Branwyn knew one thing for certain: she wanted to live longer than the next minute. She fled across the ghostly school playground. She wasn’t anywhere near fast enough, but when it didn’t immediately catch her, she figured the horses were doing their best to slow it down.

  The beast screamed, and Severin whispered, I am going to kill Shatiel someday.

  Branwyn didn’t stop, didn’t look back until the beast screamed again, from farther away. Then she dared to stop for breath, and a glance over her shoulder.

  Severin was on top of the beast, and he wasn’t alone. A mass of black shadows entangled him, and it took Branwyn a moment to realize it wasn’t his darkness, but the shadows of the haunt. The evil in Tucker had fought back against Imani’s separation, and what it had fought was him. Severin looked awful, scarcely human. His eyes were so dark and his face so pale that it was as if the flesh had been flayed from his skull, while the fire of the beast’s mane licked around him.

  Branwyn caught enough of her breath to move again and didn’t. She thought she ought to stay with some member of the Hunt because she felt very exposed out here. But the only Huntsfolk she could see was Amber and Cat and Yejun, all standing around Imani. Where had Brynn gone?

  Then Amber shouted, “Dammit!” and Cat shouted, “Branwyn!” and Branwyn realized that the whole Ragged Knife thing hadn’t been what Cat had expected to use her for. No, that was now. Of course.

  “This is all going wrong,” snapped Amber, keenly aware of her torn blouse. That bane had been a lot more physical than she expected. “You have no idea what you’re doing. This only worked before because of the Fiddler.”

  “No,” said Cat. “This part always would have worked. Let me see the Horn, Amber.”

  Scowling, she brought it out. It felt nice under her hands, but now that she was angry and in pain, she realized it felt nice the same way her master’s skin had felt nice against hers. The Horn was a new master, and she couldn’t help wondering if she’d claimed it or it had claimed her. Haliel had tried to warn her, but had she listened? Of course not. She’d done this so Jennifer would be happier, and she’d done this for Cat, and she was just realizing there was a paradox hidden in the depths like a treacherous reef.

  Cat stroked his fingers along the brass shine. He sighed, and once again Amber’s heart hurt like it was being wrenched out of her. She loved the whole stupid Hunt: Brynn and AT, of course, and Jennifer, and obnoxious Yejun and even annoying Cat. She loved him and he wanted to leave them and the Horn didn’t care. It was a piece of magic metal with a single purpose

  “Dammit!” she shouted, as Cat shouted, “Branwyn!”

  “Guys,” said Yejun. “The Horn’s strength isn’t really helping me here. I can’t protect Charlie for much longer, and the haunt wants them both now.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to Charlie,” snapped Amber. She had the damn Horn. She’d at least make sure of that.

  Branwyn ran up, panting. “Now what?” Amber sprang forward and came down with both feet on a pitch-black shadow writhing across the ground after Branwyn. It twitched under her toes.

  Cat said, “In a moment, there will be a vacancy in the Hunt. I need you to use the tool that will become available to bind a new Hunter to the Horn, please.”

  “What,” said Branwyn flatly, which is about how Amber felt, even though she’d known it was coming. Glumly, she noticed Yejun wasn’t surprised either. Maybe everybody knew, and she was the only one who cared.

  Then Sunset Horse shouted silently. Amber had never heard Sunset Horse’s mental voice before, but it was unmistakably her as she pushed her way between Branwyn and Cat. At her words, tears sprang to Amber’s eyes.

  Did you think I would just let you go?

  Cat stopped breathing for a moment. Softly, he said, “Sunset.”

  Sunset looked at him steadily, her head turned. Amber couldn’t hear what she said next, but Cat brought his hand up to her nose. “You’ll have a better partner.”

  Sunset Horse pushed her head forward and stepped on Cat’s foot. “Ouch,” he said mildly. “It will be all right.” He hesitated. “Please, Sunset Horse. If you refuse, I won’t. I can’t. But please…”

  Sunset Horse knocked her head against his shoulder, and whirled away, and Cat’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.

  He’d stay for his horse? Amber wanted to screech. But Red Horse bumped her from behind and she blew out her breath instead. The horses had worked hard on training them. It said something that even Cat hadn’t been immune.

  Also, if Sunset Horse rejects his replacement, we acquire new problems, said Red Horse dryly.

  Is this going to work? Amber asked Red Horse plaintively. Aren’t you afraid?

  You know, I’m not, said Red Horse. Gold Horse is, and the others. But… sometimes things change. You’re not the Hunters-Who-Were. We shouldn’t expect you to be.

  But what if everything goes kaboom?

  Why are you helping him if you’re afraid of that?

  Amber sniffled. Because I love them.

  Red Horse nudged her again. Brynn has worked to convince us mortal love isn’t always bad. And Cat loves you, too. Maybe that will make the difference.

  Cat finished saying something to Branwyn and looked around. “I’m glad Brynn and AT aren’t here right now.”

  Amber glanced up at Haliel, who hadn’t budged. The Angel of Joy was no longer writing, but staring down at Cat with glowing eyes.

  Cat went on, staring at nothing in particular. “I really think it will be okay. You’ll all be fine. It’s…” He stopped, frowning, and Amber realized abruptly that Cat, too, was frightened. She left Red Horse standing on the animate shadow and Sunset Horse trampling another one and joined Cat.

  When she put her hand against his shoulder, he glanced down at her. “I really hope I stay me,” he said conversationally. “As long as I stay me, I think it will work out.”

  Yejun said roughly, “If you don’t know, man… I warned you about making decisions under Goldilocks’ influence, you dork.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cat quietly. “I’m not doing this for Haliel.” He waved a hand at Imani. “And it’s far too late to go back now.”

  Then Cat closed his eyes and spread his wings. The Hunt dissolved as he became what he was not allowed to be. The dogs howled and AT yelled, but Amber only closed her eyes.

  For a moment, the Horn still held her together. Amber could no longer feel her found family around her, no longer sense the haunt as anything other than a concentration of magic. She was so hungry. But she was bound still to the Horn.

  Would it last? Would she last like this? She couldn’t tell. The magic of the Horn was shifting wildly. But she had this moment, at least. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need more.

  One of the few things Branwyn would casually admit to having in common with Severin was their mutual dislike of angels. Shatiel was the closest she’d come to meeting one she’d liked, and he’d had to ruin that by demonstrating his really terrible ideas about boundaries.

  And Umbriel had, okay, probably hadn’t brainwashed her sister, and Hadraniel had tried to steal her volition, and the blonde overhead just seemed annoying… but you never forget your first.

  And there he was, standing in front of her now. The wings of light that arced up and over them called up the memory of the wildfire that had surrounded them when the angel Ettoriel had tried to kill Marley and Penny and two little girls.

  Branwyn backed away a step, and caught herself as Amber said, “Ouch! Branwyn, hurry!”

  But Branwyn wasn’t sure what to do. She could just barely sense the strands binding what had been Cat to the Horn of the Wild Hunt, but the Horn itself was vast, old mag
ic and even if she could catch its attention, she didn’t know if she had the strength to make it listen. It wasn’t a created artifact but a natural one, and those worried her.

  The angel opened his eyes, and they were blue, Cat’s eyes. His gaze swept across everybody and he raised one hand above his head. “Old friend…” he whispered and his voice was music.

  Motherfucker Severin whispered, but it didn’t appear that the angel had been addressing him. A horizontal wheel larger than a man appeared overhead, toothed like a gear and spinning in triplicate. Haliel clapped her hands in delight even as she skittered quite a distance from the wheel.

  Branwyn had seen the wheel before, too, although last time she had no idea of what she was looking at. Now she understood, and she swallowed hard. She was used to working with Machine fragments, and once she’d molded one of the Machine Swords. This, drifting right above her, was a partial manifestation of an actual, unbroken, complete Machine. She couldn’t help but marvel at how close the angel came to touching it.

  Then he said, “Artificer,” and spread his other hand toward her. Branwyn remembered what he’d said about an available tool. “Oh my God.”

  The angel smiled faintly. “Not exactly.” The celestial wheel moved from hovering over him to hovering over Branwyn, descending as it did so. Branwyn stared at it, giddiness gradually taking the place of all her other emotions. She looked at Imani, staring at her daughter with wide, blind eyes and frozen by Charlie’s broken humming. Charlie was trying fiercely to concentrate on her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Branwyn had saved Penny’s life with a key she’d cobbled together from three Machine fragments. A wild exhilaration filled her. She could do so much more with this full Machine.

  “The Horn, Artificer,” said the angel.

  The descending Machine came to rest right above Branwyn’s head. Incandescence filled her, overwhelmed her. Unlike BELIAL, this Machine didn’t try to impose its name on her, or if it did, she couldn’t retain it. But that previous experience helped her still. She surfaced from the incandescence knowing her own name. That was what mattered. That, and the forge of her soul.

  She looked around and clearly saw the Horn of the Wild Hunt, with strands flapping freely. And there was Imani, free from the haunt, a naked soul held to the world by nothing more than her daughter’s love. She deserved better. Branwyn could give it to her, and after that, she could do so much more…

  Charlie’s tears became sobs, and Branwyn blinked at the direction of her own thoughts. Then she spread out her hands and took up the strands of the Horn, fed them through the Machine touching her soul, and tied them to Imani’s nodes, one by one, so that once again the Wild Hunt had six riders.

  When she finished, the Machine lifted away from her and returned to the angel. The incandescence that filled her faded, and Branwyn was both bereft and grateful. She staggered, and Amber caught her.

  “You’ve done well, children,” said the angel, touching Charlie and Yejun as he circled them. “Just a little longer.” He placed both his hands on Imani’s head and brightness flashed around them both.

  Son of a bitch, said Severin, but weakly.

  The brightness faded and Imani blinked. She was still a ghost, but full awareness had returned to her eyes. She looked up at the angel. “I… Yes. Yes.”

  Branwyn looked around. Severin still entangled with the shadows and the beast of fire and thorns. AT and the dogs were also harrying the beast, but the shadows stayed away from them. Where the shadows did move on the ground, deep cracks opened, and stars glinted within them.

  “Is the Hunt working?” she demanded. “Everything required in place?”

  Hesitantly, Amber nodded. “I think so? There’s something—”

  “Then deal with the haunt,” Branwyn shouted.

  Amber stared down at the horn. “I’ve never…” She shook her head, then lifted the Horn to her mouth and blew.

  The sound was just as sweet as when Jennifer played, which seemed to give Amber confidence. For the third time, the haunt shuddered against the power of the Horn. Yejun and Amber and Imani all developed that superreal quality, and somehow Jennifer and Brynn and AT were right there, too, while doing something else entirely.

  Jennifer glanced up as she stood in front of something, gave a strange little smile, and looked down again. AT fell back with her dogs. Brynn held Earth Horse’s head and cried. Something flickered between all of them: dogs, horses, people.

  Then the haunt that had been Imani’s prison and Imani’s revenge shuddered apart, until it was nothing more than black dust that streamed into the horn. A soul howled as it was taken away, but Branwyn didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy. They could have left. They didn’t.

  As the haunt vanished, the original ruins of Tucker returned, although the deep, strange cracks in the ground created by the haunt remained. It was dawn, but Branwyn had no idea what the day was.

  The angel spread his wings wide and looked up at the deep blue sky. Then he walked over to where Gale still stood, shoulders slumped, forgotten and apparently content with that. The angel put his hand on Gale’s forehead and murmured, “Since I’m here…” There was another bright flash and Gale twisted away from him.

  “Stay away from me,” he snarled. “You have no right—” He stopped, pushed his hands through his hair, said, “Fuck,” and walked away.

  The angel turned back to the others. “Just a little enforcement of Imani’s judgement. He’ll do what he needs to,” he said pleasantly. “And now…”

  His wings swept down and his eyes closed. Lightning flashed in the clear sky, and his Machine companion rose back to the heavens again. “And now….” The angel repeated, and this time he sounded troubled. “What’s my name?” he asked, honestly bewildered.

  “Cat!” shouted Amber, as Haliel crowed, “Ettoriel!”

  “Cat,” said Yejun, shaking his hands as he lifted them from Charlie’s head.

  “You’d better damn well be Cat,” muttered Branwyn.

  “Cat,” said AT, fiercely.

  “Cat,” whispered Brynn, her voice like the wind.

  “I love you,” whispered Jennifer through the same wind.

  “Oh,” said the angel. “Yes.”

  His wings vanished with a pop, along with the glory that surrounded him. Cat stood in the dust of Tucker, blinking a little.

  “Poop,” said Haliel. “Well, Slick is Slick no matter what anybody else calls him.” She started writing in her book again.

  Good enough, said Severin, and slid off the bloody beast of fire and thorns to land in a pile on the ground. Stay alive for a minute or three, cupcake, and I’ll get you and Charlie away from that thing.

  The beast looked around. But it didn’t notice Branwyn or Charlie. It noticed Cat. Cat, who somehow wasn’t an angel anymore, but wasn’t a member of the Hunt, either. Cat, who was mortal.

  He turned to gaze at it, his mouth crooking in a wry, sad smile.

  Brynn clenched her fists as Jennifer stood in front of the ark. She’d refused to help Jen put the lid back on, but ever so helpful, ever so strong Capricorn had been there. Brynn didn’t even know why she refused, except that Earth Horse was frantic and convinced that whatever Jen was doing would hurt her as nothing else could. They’d both watched sullenly as Jen drew a magic circle around the ark, with Capricorn walking along beside her and fixing it in place.

  And then Cat had broken the Hunt, and Branwyn had reforged it, and you’d think that might have given Jen second thoughts. But she’d turned her attention back to the ark almost immediately.

  “Like this?” she said to Capricorn, placing her hands on the replaced lid.

  “Almost,” he said. “Yes, like that!” He kept his hands over hers. “Remember how I explained that only a mortal could destroy a relic?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Jennifer, giving him a wide-eyed look.

  “I sort of rounded the truth, there,” Capricorn said, with a guilty expression. “So I do ne
ed to warn you that there’s more to destroying a relic than the ritual. There’s a price that has to be paid, too. A price only mortals can pay.”

  Amusement flashed across Jennifer’s face. “There always seems to be. What is it?”

  “It varies,” said Capricorn delicately. “But it can be overwhelming, if you don’t have courage. I thought you did, as soon as I saw you. But only you know.”

  Jennifer, please, said Earth Horse.

  Cat, screamed Sunset Horse, and Brynn jumped. Instinctively she reached for him through the Horn, but found only a stranger.

  Why won’t he run? demanded Silver Horse.

  We’ll get him, said Red Horse. Whether he likes it or not.

  Jen glanced at Earth Horse and moved a hand as if trying to soothe him. “I never thought I was particularly brave.” She exhaled. “But I know how to do what I have to. And I have to do this.”

  Magic flared around her. With a resounding crack, the ark shattered. The bone dust within the ark rose into the air, spiraling around Jen and becoming the red glow of roses. Then, all at once, the light flowed inside Jen.

  With a tiny little smile, Capricorn said, “I rounded the truth. Nobody can break a relic, Jennifer. But mortals can become one.”

  As horses and dogs did their best to interfere with the beast of fire and thorns, and Amber and her red stallion argued with Cat, Branwyn kept her gaze on the slumped form of Severin. He hadn’t said anything since telling her he’d remove her and Charlie. She wanted very badly to demand, to force his attention. But she resisted, she resisted. She’d keep on resisting until the beast was bearing down on her and Charlie, after it had consumed Cat. At that point, well… she wanted to live. She’d do what she had to.

  Then, without any warning, the beast of fire and thorns exploded into rose petals which faded into nothingness. Everybody stopped moving, except to look around in confusion.

  Branwyn had been still long enough. She ran over to Severin. He sprawled on the ground, a physical wreck. His eyes were open, though, and glinting as he looked up at her.