Adam pulled the trigger again, piercing the Unseleighe's right leg with light. Zeldan screamed as the tight beam cauterized its way through his flesh.
"That was for my mother," Adam said. Firing again, he carved a chunk of flesh out of his leg. "That's for my father." Zeldan screamed again, batting at the smoldering flesh. Adam raked the beam over on top of him, cutting into his shoulder. "That is for my people."
Adam raised the weapon and aimed between Zeldan's eyes. "And this one's for me."
The King fired, blasting a hole the diameter of a dime through the Unseleighe's skull. The scream that tried to escape from Zeldan's lips froze as the elf's features petrified. The limp form that was once an Unseleighe lord crumpled to the floor.
Adam stared at the still form for several long moments, waiting for Zeldan to move, sit up, talk, do something.
Is he dead? Adam wondered. Do demons like Zeldan really die?
Well, he sure looked dead. Even elves, when shot through the head like that, tended not to live very long.
I've got to be sure, he thought, raising his weapon to inflict more damage. If he's not dead, then none of us are safe.
Before he pulled the trigger again, Zeldan's body lit up as if it were a lamp shade and the raising of his weapon had flipped the switch. Adam stepped back, uncertain of the light's source, or its meaning; light pierced through Zeldan's wounds, in head and body, then changed from white light to blue. The wounds grew, the light dissolving the Unseleighe's flesh, expanding, consuming. It emitted a hiss, like white noise, a radio tuned to static. Like a mutant bacteria, the light consumed the Unseleighe's flesh, his clothing, until only a cocoon of light remained.
The cocoon rose toward the ceiling, then dissolved into it.
"Where is he going?" Adam wondered aloud.
"Beyond," a voice said behind him. "Where else?"
"Marbann?" Adam said, turning around. Marbann stood a few feet behind him, his right hand over a bleeding wound on his chest. He doesn't sound or look at all intact, Adam thought.
"Wenlann and Petrus . . ." Sammi said frantically as she and Moira ran into the computer room.
Adam helped Marbann to a chair. Spence wandered in, looking lost, but otherwise uninjured. Levin bolt shock, most likely, he thought, turning his attention to Marbann, whose right eye had clotted over from a wound in his forehead.
"Marbann, you're in shock," Adam said. "Please, sit down."
"Is he really gone?" Marbann said, his voice distant and weak.
"Zeldan is dead," Adam said, urging Marbann to sit on a chair. "That was his soul. There is nothing else left of him."
I hope.
Daryl squirmed on the table, then sat up, clumsily, on an elbow. His bindings had been cut.
"Adam?" Daryl said. "What just . . . what . . . your ears."
"My—" Of course. "I'll explain later," Adam said. "We need to get you to a hospital."
Daryl didn't reply. Instead, he stared at Adam, who was in full elf mode.
"Later," Adam said firmly. "Now you will go to sleep." The King closed his eyes and exerted a little magic over his friend, willing him to comply. When he opened his eyes, Daryl had passed into a deep, sound sleep.
"Where's Sammi and Moira?" Adam asked, and Marbann pointed absently toward the equipment.
That makes no sense. Wait, isn't that . . .
"Adam," Sammi called out. "I've found them." She stepped from behind some of the big blue cabinets, holding Wenlann by the hand. Moira and Petrus came out also, with the other elf Adam saw with Zeldan. The King instinctively drew the weapon on him.
"Stay right there," Adam said, gesturing the others to get out of the way. Then, to the elf, "Who are you?"
The elf looked defeated, but the more Adam studied him, the less Unseleighe he appeared.
"My name is Rathand. Formerly of Outremer," he said sadly. He looked around with a hint of fear in his expression. "Where is Zeldan?"
"Dead," Adam replied. "I am King Aedham Tuiereann of Elfhame Avalon. You're of Outremer? How did you come to be in the service of Zeldan?"
"I believe he's on our side," Samantha said. "At least, now. He was the one who released Daryl, then hid Wenlann and Petrus in a back room while you two had it out."
Rathand stepped forward, and Adam aimed his weapon directly at his face. Rathand flinched, but continued to speak. "The Unseleighe captured me, long ago. Outremer never knew what happened to me. I tried to escape, but when Zeldan learned of my engineering capabilities, he made certain I would be his forever." Rathand lifted a thatch of brown hair from his left temple, revealing a red crystal embedded into the flesh. "If I tried to escape, I died. Suffered and died, I should say. This thing he put into me is connected directly to my pain centers." He flinched, as if the crystal were already doing its work. "It is not possible to imagine the pain this crystal inflicts."
"But Zeldan is dead now," Adam said. "You're free."
Rathand looked down. "I'm dead. Already, my life is leaking away." He looked over at the two elven children. "Thank you for allowing me to do some good before I died. I might never have had the chance to redeem myself otherwise."
Moira stepped over to Rathand and examined the crystal. "Why are you going to die? Is it because of this thing?"
"It's connected to Zeldan's life force. It was insurance to prevent me from killing my captor. I don't have long to live."
"Then we'll remove it," Moira said. "We must do something!"
Rathand shook his head slowly, resolutely. "There is nothing to do. Removing it will kill me."
Adam lowered the weapon, finding no threat in a dying elf. "Why did you help, then?"
"It was the only way to rid myself of Zeldan. Helping you provided me with that opportunity." Rathand grimaced, and he reached for the crystal in his head. "It's already started," Rathand said. "This isn't going to be pleasant." Rathand dropped to his knees in obvious agony. "Don't mistake me for a hero, Tuiereann. I am not. I stood by while Zeldan killed your father, and I aided him in the assault on the castle. Please, allow me to die. I have no right to live."
"Even after Zeldan is dead, he inflicts pain," Sammi spat. "What is all this equipment, anyway?" She looked over at the large crystal, which had started to flicker. Rathand glanced over at it with a wry grin of amusement on his face.
"It's Morrigan, calling in," Rathand said. "Zeldan's partner in all this. She won't know yet."
From his crouched position, Rathand crawled over to the crystal, looking directly into it. "I'm going to enjoy this." He fiddled with something below the crystal. A hideous face appeared. The facets distorted her features a bit, but even Adam saw she was no beauty to begin with. Cross-eyed, hawk-nosed, she looked like someone who would do business with Zeldan.
She looked puzzled at first; then, as she took in Rathand's pained expression, worried.
"Well?" she snapped at Rathand impatiently. "Where's Zeldan? Where's my pain? Where's my power? The Dream should have been dropped by now."
Despite his own level of pain, Rathand managed to smirk at Morrigan.
"He's dead, you bitch," Rathand said, looking rather pleased with himself. "Your plan is history. You're not getting any more from us, not even what's in our banks."
Morrigan turned different shades of red and gurgled something incomprehensible.
Adam went over to one of the cabinets and opened one. Inside was a series of crystals, each glowing with power. And in each one, Adam felt the pain. He slammed the cabinet closed in disgust. That's how Zeldan did it. He stored human pain in this thrice-damned equipment. He regarded Rathand with equal disgust. And he helped him do it.
Can I really trust Rathand?
"Get away from there," Adam said, pushing Rathand aside. Rathand surrendered his place to the King without complaint. Adam regarded this new element with renewed hate.
I still have an enemy to conquer, he thought.
"Zeldan's dead. I killed him. Personally," Adam informed her.
Her eyes
narrowed. "Who are you?"
"King Aedham Tuiereann of Elfhame Avalon," Adam said. "And I will return to claim my kingdom. And if I find any Unseleighe or agents of Unseleighe on our lands, they will die without question."
"You . . ." she said, sputtering. "It was you who returned. That levin bolt, Zeldan's men . . ." Her voice trailed off. She consulted with someone off screen for a moment, then returned.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Sammi said.
From the banks of crystals, a low, resonant hum emitted. The color of light leaking through the cabinets changed from light yellow to red; something had definitely changed.
"You didn't!" Rathand wailed. Then, to Moira, said, "Please tell me she didn't."
"Didn't what?" Adam demanded to know. "What's wrong?" He looked at the crystal again; Morrigan had an expression of mock fear, which turned to amusement. Then the crystal went blank, with only her fading laugh to remind him she had ever been there.
He turned to Rathand. "What is going on?" He cast a wary eye at the equipment, certain it had become a new source of danger.
"She's reversed the power," he said, crawling up to a console of other, smaller crystals. One glance at it and Rathand shook his head, and sank back to the floor.
"Okay, so she's reversed the power," Adam said. "What the hell does that mean?"
Rathand fell over on his side, then rolled on his back. He was lying on the floor now, looking up at the ceiling. "This station was designed for one-way power transmission. The ports were only built to handle a certain amount of power, and in one direction only."
"Yes?" Adam said, standing over Rathand. "And?"
"There's going to be a big explosion," Rathand replied, visibly fading.
"How big?" Sammi asked, in a monotone.
Rathand looked about the room indifferently. "Oh, big enough to convert this entire building to dust."
"How do we stop it?" Adam asked.
"You don't . . ." Rathand said, exhaling a long, final breath. His head lolled to one side; his eyes stared at the ceiling, and the crystal in his head had turned bloodred.
The low resonant hum raised a bit in pitch, and Moira glanced at it nervously. "Okay, guys. Reality check. Why are we still down here?"
"She's right," Adam said. "All of you, get out of here!"
"What about Daryl?"
"I'll get him," Adam said, slinging the weapon over his back. "Sammi, help Marbann. Moira, Spence is in shock." Though still dazed, Marbann seemed to know they were in danger again. With little urging, he started for the stairwell.
With some effort, he managed to throw Daryl over his shoulder. The boy was still sound asleep and showed no signs of waking.
"Everyone, out!" Adam shouted, as he started for the stairwell with Daryl. "The building's about to blow!"
The weight room was empty of all but those already dead. Packages of Black Dream lay strewn everywhere, and he hoped that whatever was about to happen would destroy all of it.
Beneath them, Adam felt the concrete floor vibrate. Panting, lungs heaving, he reached the outside right after the others. The Caprice was still there, but the parking lot was clear of all the other vehicles they'd seen when they arrived.
Moira and Spence crawled into the back. Niamh jumped out of the car and helped Adam lay Daryl across their laps. Petrus and Wenlann climbed into the passenger's side of Sammi's cop car, followed by Marbann, making a tight fit. Then Niamh dove in across them. Marbann reached over and pulled the door shut.
"Everyone, hang on," Sammi shouted from the driver's seat. "This is going to be a rough ride."
Now, if we can get out of here. He situated himself with Daryl's head on his lap as Sammi threw the car into reverse. The Caprice lurched backward, did a reverse fishtail, then sped out of the New You Fitness Center parking lot.
In the rearview mirror, Adam watched the building explode.
He wasn't certain what he'd expected. The explosion's origins were not terrestrial, but from Underhill, so the explosion might have taken many different forms. When the building erupted, a fireball instantly engulfed the structure, then pulled it inward; the shock of the implosion cracked the rear window and caused the Caprice to swerve, but Sammi's expert driving skills maneuvered the car back under control.
Adam exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in. Moments later, Sammi pulled up behind the van, which was still parked where they'd left it.
"I sure hope everyone was out of that place," Sammi said. She looked down at Daryl. "What's wrong with him?"
In Adam's lap, Daryl had started to shake. Slightly, at first, then his entire body started to spasm.
"He's having a seizure," Moira said. "Adam, can you heal him?"
"I'll try. But I think we'd better get to a hospital," Adam said, glancing down at Daryl, whose skin had become cold and clammy.
"I'll lead in the van," Sammi said, getting out. "I have a light bar in the grill. Get us there in record time. I have to make sure Roach is still zonked anyway. Moira, you get up here and drive. Follow me to Parkland Memorial."
Sammi hopped into the van and took off, and Moira pulled in behind them, scratching the pavement with rubber.
"Nice pickup," Moira said. "You okay back there?"
I don't know, Adam thought. Daryl was still shaking, more violently now. Moira threw a Bic pen in the backseat.
"If he's biting his tongue, put this between his teeth," she said. Adam tried to force Daryl's mouth open, but his jaws were too tight. He checked his nose, found he was breathing shallowly, but freely, through it.
Come on, Daryl, Adam thought, holding his friend's head. Don't die on me now. Not after what we've just been through.
He reached for the nodes and focused their power on Daryl, imagining him well again. He kept it up for as long as possible, before his concentration gave out.
When he opened his eyes, Daryl was breathing normally. His body had relaxed, and the seizure had stopped. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up at Adam.
"What happened?" Daryl said weakly.
"I'll tell you later," Adam said, relieved. "Just relax. You're about to start that vacation we promised you."
Daryl smiled faintly, then went back to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Daryl woke in what appeared to be a hospital room, on a reclining bed set in the upright position. A curtain had been drawn across the room, separating him from another patient, who sounded old and wheezed and coughed constantly. From a clear plastic bag hanging from the ceiling, a tube ran to an IV tube in his arm. The area the needle was inserted was sore, suggesting it had been in there a long time.
Then the memory of what had happened flooded over him. I narked on Presto. I narked on the Man. And everyone saw me with the wire. He looked over at the door, suddenly nervous for his safety. If they find me, I'm dead.
Then he saw Adam, sound asleep, curled up on an uncomfortable-looking chair.
A nurse walked in carrying a tray of something. When she looked down at Daryl and their eyes met, her eyes widened in surprise.
"You're con—awake," she said.
Daryl frowned, not liking the nurse's reaction much. She's lookin' at me like I woke from the dead. Then he thought about this a moment.
"It . . . it happens," Daryl said. His voice, at first, refused to work. "Where am I?"
Adam stirred, looked up with sleepy eyes. "Daryl?" he said, with a smile. " 'Bout time you woke up."
"I'll get the doctor," the nurse said, and was gone.
"What happened?" Daryl asked. He felt horrible. When his jaw moved, it sent a shooting pain through his skull. "After . . . what happened? The cops were carrying me out of a building. That's the last thing I remember."
Adam looked pensive, and for an uncomfortable moment Daryl thought he might lie to him about his condition.
"You've been out for three days," Adam said. "Before that, you had a series of seizures. They had to sedate you. They did other things to you. You were coming off Bla
ck Dream, and they didn't think you were going to make it."
Daryl managed a laugh. "I don't remember any of it."
"Which is just as well. They have you on Librium. They said you would have died without it."
"Really?" he said. "Funny, I don't feel high."
"You'd probably notice it if you weren't on it," Adam said, rubbing his eyes.
He still looks sleepy. How long has he been here?
"Or maybe not. They say they'll have to take you off of it, soon."
Daryl thought about what that meant. "I want off it," he said. "I want off everything." He felt a tickling between his legs, and when he lifted the sheet to see what it was, he nearly screamed.
"It's a catheter," Adam said. "Don't worry, you're okay down there. They had to hook you up so you wouldn't pee all over the place."
"Oh," Daryl said, suddenly embarrassed. "Anyway, like I said, I want off all of it. Everything. Coke, Dream, booze, pot, everything."
Adam was gazing at him in wonder. "Are you sure about that?" he said. "I mean, really sure."
Daryl didn't have to think for very long. "I almost died. A number of times. I'm lucky to be alive." Yes, I want off everything, he thought. For a frightening moment, he was afraid no one might believe him this time. "Death has a way of getting your attention."
"It does that," Adam said, but his eyes had wandered off, as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
"What about . . . my dad? And Mom," he said, suppressing a groan. "What, if anything, do they have to say about this?"
"They're in a treatment center," Adam said. "Your father is being treated for cocaine addiction, and your mother checked in for Valium dependency. They're both at the Dallas Regional Chemical Dependency Center. They were kind of hoping you'd join them when you were well enough to get out of here."
The news stunned him. Dad's in a treatment center? "Was it his idea, or did the court tell him to go?"
"His idea," Adam said without hesitation. "He wants to get well, too."
"This is too much," Daryl said. "I mean, that's the last person I expected to—"
A doctor came in, a young man in his thirties, wearing a white coat. "Hello, Mr. Bendis," the doctor said, with irritating cheerfulness. "I'm Dr. Cochrane. How do you feel?" he asked, pulling a pocket flashlight out and shining it in Daryl's eyes.
Elvendude Page 29