by D. R. Perry
He still looks lizard-y, but this is a kid, sort of. He’s definitely not human, although he’s got a similar-enough anatomy to pass for one if he wears a hat to cover his lack of ears and total baldness. His skin has a yellowish cast, and his eyes are a dark enough brown to look almost black.
“Um, you said something about weapons, Baba?”
“Yes.” She jerks her suddenly very wrinkled chin in Sparky’s direction. “He’s it.”
“Okay.” I can’t imagine how I’ll use a salamander in combat, but I’ve kept my mind open since becoming supernatural, and it’s served me well so far. Might as well leave it that way.
“Hi, Sparky.” Leora sits next to her friend and hands him a spoon. He starts slurping down the stew like it’s the most delicious thing in the world. It’s steaming so much I’d stop Leora from having any until it cooled off. But Sparky just literally walked out of a fire. So he's okay. But just because her friend is doing it doesn't mean Leora should. Oh, God. I’m starting to think like my parents.
Well, there’s a first time for everything.
Chapter Fifteen
“How do we find the Deep Ones, anyway?” I ask Maya the question Baba seems either unwilling or unable to answer. She’s back to her stinky old crone self, the tea having worn off, apparently.
“I’m not sure.”
“I know.” Leora peeks at the duffel bag. “But I want to see what’s in there before I tell you.”
“Okay.” Maya unzips it, then whistles. “Wow.”
“Didn’t you know those would be in there?”
“No. But that’s because I didn’t pack the bag. Peligro did.”
“Is Peligro your dog?”
“No!” Maya laughs. “He’d think that was pretty funny if you said it in front of him, though. He’s another vampire I work with sometimes. Well, I’m not sure why he gave this to me. Peligro knows I can’t use those in combat.”
“Well, you said he was psychic.” I shrug. “So maybe they’re for someone else.”
“Nobody I can think of. But that’s okay. Better to have them and not need them than need and not have, right?”
“Truth.” I give Leora what I hope is a stern enough look. “Okay, you saw. Now you tell.”
“All we do is walk out the door.”
“Really? That’s all?”
“That’s how Baba’s house works. It shows up where it’s supposed to.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
“Sparky.”
I watch the salamander kid finish his stew by picking the bowl up and drinking from it. I have reservations about taking one kid into combat, let alone two. But Baba Yaga must know what she’s talking about. Unlike the way Frankie and Raven discussed the Deep Ones, Baba seems to genuinely care about her Lamb, and even the rest of the Kupala family. Or maybe this is all that’s left of it, and she wants revenge for that. She did seem awfully bloodthirsty.
Whatever her reasons, I’m glad for her help. And I think the agreement I struck would make Raven proud. It really roped her into helping us without being able to turn around and mess with the Pickerings later, including Raven and Frankie. And it keeps her from ever going full-on genocidal on Deep Ones. Which, I mean they are creepy fish people, but no group deserves that fate.
Sparky burps, giggles, then wipes his mouth. He holds his hands out for a hug and Leora gives him one, mortar and pestle charm bracelet gleaming on her wrist. They definitely have a sibling vibe going on there. I’m sort of sad my folks never had another kid, but what can you do? Make family, I guess. Like I did with Maury.
The salamander kid morphs himself back into a regular-looking amphibian and gets in the cross-body pouch Leora’s still wearing. After that, she stands and goes to the door.
“You guys coming or not?”
Maya zips the bag closed again and slings it over her shoulder. We’re all about to leave when Baba’s voice sounds behind us.
“Knock ‘em dead!”
As much as I’d prefer not to, I think we’ll be doing plenty of that. And when we step out that humble little door, I have a bigger suspicion that death exits Baba Yaga’s house with us. We’re deep inside a pipe so huge it feels like a tunnel. With the light from the door and windows inside the hut, it’s easy to see that there’s water in the bottom, but not much. We’ll get our shoes wet, not our ankles.
It’s close quarters, and I’m actually sort of grateful it’s not the entire group from the van in here. I’m not claustrophobic, but I think almost anyone would get a little bit tweaky in this place because there’s no light. I see better than a human in the dark, but it’s still disconcerting. Everything is gray. And then, Leora opens Sparky’s pouch.
It’s like she turned on a flashlight. Warmth comes back to my field of vision, and it makes all the difference. Even as a vampire who gets severely burned by the sun, I still love light. Maybe that has more to do with what’s in my heart than the state of my body.
As we advance, I hear echoes of speech up ahead. I don’t want to burn blood, even though I’ve still got a full stash in my pockets. Who knows what we might need? So I wait until we’re farther along and I can make out what’s being said with regular vampire hearing. That happens sooner than I expect because something’s lining the ceiling farther in, damping the echoes that distorted the voices before.
“We need more of them. They’re so durable, no dying when we’re out.”
“Not many more in this city.”
“We get this new one to turn its friends.”
“After this, there’s Boston.”
“Too many there. No Pickerings, no Lambs.”
“Caution, then. And after that, New York.”
“With New York, we’ll have the world.”
I realize that these Deep Ones are talking about vampires. Snatching us and stealing our appearances. And Providence is just the beginning. They want the world, or at least the coastal parts of it. We have to stop them here and now. One glance at Maya tells me she’s on the same page. I still would rather not kill them if I don’t have to.
If I can find Raven and give them time to negotiate, maybe I can stop an all-out war. But it’s a long shot. I can’t think of a way to locate our friends, although I do have two other clues. The Lazakhars.
I pull them from my pocket and loop one of them over each arm. The best thing is, they’re both glowing. Faintly but definitely lit up from within. That means both King DeCampo and Stephanie are still alive somewhere nearby, or as alive as undead people can be, I guess.
Sparky sticks his nose out of his pouch and sniffs, then has a look at the glowing amulets. He winks at me, which I don’t doubt now. I think my ability to roll with the supernatural punches is better than it was last month. Which is good because that was abysmal before. I hope I wasn’t too much of an asshole.
I make a fist and raise my hand, signaling everybody to stop. We’re near a corner, and I’ve got a feeling we’ll run right into the Deep Ones if we just keep going. I take a mirror out of my pocket, which is usually completely useless for me. But this time, it’s exactly what I need. I tilt it so I can see around the corner. And sure enough, there are two of the froggy fish people. They’ve got a line of people bound to each other by some moldy old rope. One of them is wearing my gym shorts. Frankie.
It’s time.
I put the mirror away, then draw my rapier. When I drop my fist, I start the charge, wordlessly. Behind me, I hear my friends following, feet splashing. As we round the corner, the Deep Ones turn. They hiss when they see us. Then, they rush.
We clash. I don’t see what happens right away. A flash of red-tinged light to my left means Sparky and Leora have attacked. A pained hiss tells me they didn’t miss.
The Deep One rushing toward Maya on my right stops and takes a step back. I don’t blame him. She’s a horror of spike and claw, snarling and baring her fangs. And still perfect. Like a lioness, the ideal predator. She ends up having to chase hers down the pipe and past th
e prisoners. Her prowess is such that she cuts them free with a rake of her claws as she passes.
The third Deep One keeps on coming at me. That’s fine because he’s unarmed. But I forget about the slime until the last possible second and duck out of the way just in time. My rapier slash misses by a hair. But it’s better than getting hit by the bad-luck goo.
The Deep One’s slime does something to probability, making it work against whoever’s been smeared with it. That’s how Leora’s mother Katerina, a formidable fire magician, got herself killed. It’s also how Stephanie got snatched. Mrs. Kupala saw the whole thing as she died, watched her vampire contact be captured while trying to seek revenge. First comes the slime, then the bad luck. I have to avoid getting touched at all costs.
I step back again but hit the wall this time. So I’ve got just one shot at this. I feint left and right, then right again. The Deep One buys it. I slash left. It drops. I step over it and sheath my rapier to help my friends get the rest of the way free. The rope’s been cut, but they still have hoods over their heads.
I pull the one off Raven first. They wrinkle their nose, and I don’t blame them. The cloth is filthy and reeking. I’d rather sit next to Baba Yaga on a ninety-degree day at the beach than wear that thing. Well, no, not really because vampire plus beach equals perma-death. But you know what I mean.
When they see the duffel, Raven’s eyes light up. They open it, and I understand. The throwing knives are for the attaché. Peligro must have foreseen this. I wonder what else he saw, but it’d be no use asking someone as incoherent as him about visions, even if he were here.
More hissing means I have to stop my rescue mission for now. Maya’s taking three of the newcomers on, but that’s only half the attackers. Leora and Sparky blast one. It rushes at them, and they blast it again. It finally drops. But two are headed straight for me, and my rapier’s still sheathed. A knife handle blooms between one pair of eyes. Raven’s got my back. The last of this new set drops with one of the projectiles in its left eye. The attaché retrieves their blades. I move to free Frankie.
His eyes are wide, rolling, and panicked, but when he sees it’s me taking the bag off, he blinks. He’s still got his peepers peeled, but they’re not frantically moving every which way. He pats his pockets, and I remember that he’s got Post-its and Esther’s levitation powder. Thank God. All the same, I motion for him to get behind me and reach for the hood over Mother Pickering’s face. Once freed, she nods, then re-secures her hair in its clip. I don’t blame her. The last thing I’d want is to die from hairdo malfunction.
We hurry through the pipe where the ceiling is getting closer by the pace. I look up. By the light of Mother’s magical hands, the Lazakhars, and Sparky, I can see they’re bubbles. Big ones, like person-sized. And they are all black. Mother sees where my gaze is and nods. I take it as an invitation.
“What are they?”
“I can’t pronounce the word for them. But those are what they put people in when they want to impersonate them.”
“Earlier, the Deep One said something about them dying when they’re out. What’s that about?”
“The people in those black ones are dead because being without water that long kills them. It takes a couple of days, though. It’s how Deep Ones find mates when there aren’t any of our kin in the area.”
“Oh.” I don’t want to hear more about this, but Mother’s not finished.
“That’s what happened to my brother. He was a Lamb, and they only sent him back after he died. In one of those.”
I’m about to let her have it with a giant tirade, but I can’t. There’s a fresh wave of Deep Ones coming at us. They look smaller and more feral than the others we fought so far, and there are more of them this time. I use my anger up, fighting them. And I see the gleam of tears on Mother Pickering’s cheeks as she lights up her hands with green fire and roasts the foes.
It’s been a long time coming, but I think maybe she’s learning.
I still won’t forgive her until she apologizes for everything to Frankie and gets help. But that’s not my concern right now. I check and see that all my friends are standing. Frankie’s been behind me the whole time, and nobody who traded blows got slimed so far. It’s a good time to check because we’ve fought our way through the pipes and into some new scenery.
It’s a round room where the pipelike tunnels all intersect. In some ways, it reminds me of an old-fashioned railway roundhouse. In others, it’s like the rotunda at the Rhode Island State House. Either way, it’s lit up.
“Come forward and swell our ranks!” The king’s voice is every bit as authoritative as it was during my Trial.
The bubbles are here, too, far above our heads, afloat at the high ceiling. They’re shiny and bear different hues. None of the ones in here are black. At the center of this circle are Fake Stephanie and also King DeCampo. I think he’s a fake, too, but I can’t be absolutely sure. Both Lazakhars are glowing like stars. The real Stephanie must be on the ceiling. Unfortunately, I can’t reach those bubbles to break some and find out. But we’ve got ranged attackers. Raven’s already taking aim at the one nearest to them. The knife flies through the air but bounces off.
“Frankly, I’m sick to undeath of waiting.” Fake Stephanie rushes straight at me. I ready my rapier, but she’s got an honest-to-God saber, and I can tell she knows how to use it. The best I can hope for is to hold long enough for the others to figure out how to free the real Steph and everyone else up there.
King DeCampo’s locked eyes with Maya. She screams in wordless challenge. As they rush toward each other, I try not to worry. She’s even more outclassed than I am. I watch the king pop claws of his own, but instead of spikes, his skin covers over with something chitinous. They clash, and I’m thanking God that copying a vamp seems to mean copying our abilities. He’s either not able or willing to slime Maya. I hope the same holds true for Stephanie.
We lock blades, and even though my greater height and weight gives me an edge, she’s by far the superior fighter. I try to use leverage in my favor, but that effort is only just keeping me from getting myself beheaded. Fortunately, I hear my allies discussing things in the background.
“Needs magic to break them.” Mother looks at her hands. “Opposite kind.”
“Why can’t Sparky fly?” Leora’s wringing her hands.
“He can fly with this.” Frankie holds up the levitation powder. “Is that okay, Sparky?” Yes, my buddy Frankie is asking a lizard for consent. Salamander. Whatever. I’m proud of him, okay?
“Go for it!” Leora gives Frankie the thumbs-up, and after a few shakes and even fewer seconds, the salamander’s rising toward the bubbles on the ceiling.
Maya and the fake king break their grapple. The fake king sees what’s happening and points a magically glowing finger at Sparky. Maya closes with him again and knocks his arm to one side.
The blast hits Leora instead.
Chapter Sixteen
I see my future ward faintly inside the new bubble, fists banging on the side. We’ve got to get her out of there, but I don’t know how, besides waiting for Sparky to do his thing. I’m barely holding Stephanie back. She’s fighting with a fury that makes little sense unless it’s personal, but I can’t imagine why it would be. Well, there’s no harm in asking.
“What’s your problem, anyway?”
“You are, Val.”
“Hate that name.”
“Hate your attitude.”
“Yours is worse.”
“Restraint is vital to a long existence.”
“You’re not my sire. You don’t have that kind of experience for real.”
“Yes, I do. We’re as immortal as you vampires.”
“She admits it.” I cackle.
“No.”
“Not a vamp.” I blow Fake Stephanie a raspberry. It’s a good thing I don’t have to breathe. “Got you!”
“She regrets turning you.”
“No shit.” I try to pretend that do
esn't hurt. Which is impossible. I convert all the pain to anger.
The Deep One grunts, blocking the attack that comes after my feint with ease.
“My attitude sucks.” I strike. “I’m homesick.” Again. “I whine.” This time I feint. She doesn’t take the bait. “And I’m no good at vamping.”
Fake Stephanie gets past my parries and her saber runs me through the gut, which isn’t as bad as it sounds because of the whole being undead thing. But it still hurts like a bastard. She pulls the saber out and I just keep on going, using method acting techniques to try to ignore the pain.
From the corner of my eye, I see Maya. She’s looking a bit tattered from grappling with the fake king. Basically, they clash, sink claws into each other, then break it off to start the cycle again. It’s brutal. I’d never have survived even one of those.
Which leads me to wonder why these Deep Ones attacked us the way they did. It’d make sense for the brawler to tackle the stage-trained swordsman and the finesse fighter to take on the brute with no armor plating. And that leads me to think about how the whole body-snatching thing must work.
Because the person they’re wearing has to be alive in the bubble for them to keep on walking around looking like them, so that must mean there’s a psychic link. And one thing I learned tonight from Maya about those is, they go both ways. So Stephanie and King DeCampo are both up there, and they’re doing what they can to help us by controlling the information the Deep Ones get. I decide to send them a message.
“Hey, Fake Stephanie!”
“Oh, shut up and die already, Val.” She tries to run me through again. This time, she aims for the heart.
I parry her blow. “You know, I like the real Steph. Want her back.”
“Hogwash.” The fake snorts and tries a slash.
“No, really. She’s bossy, but the girl’s got real class.” I parry. Is it getting easier?
“You try to get rid of her.” Fake Stephanie lunges.
“Because she’s too awesome. I feel like a moron around her.” I dodge.