Sing Down the Stars (The Celestine Series Book 1)

by L. J. Hatton

  Losing my mother so young had spared me the memory of her death, but now it didn’t matter that this Iva was a copy. I couldn’t look away.

  Arcineaux smirked at Winnie and Jermay, but wasn’t so bold with Bijou or Xerxes. They hissed at him, Bijou stretching his snout almost close enough to bite. Smoke from Bijou’s nostrils curled up and around Arcineaux’s head, making him cough.

  “Call them off or I’ll snap your neck,” he ordered, taking my throat in the hand that wasn’t trying to stanch his bleeding stomach. Arsenic was a mess—beaten, bloodied, his uniform torn—but the gargoyle was granite strong. Jermay tried to pry him off me; Arcineaux threw him.

  I brought my knee up straight into the wound I’d given him, and he doubled over, but he never let go, even when my creeper light tumbled out of Klok’s satchel to butt him in the leg. He kicked the poor thing across the corridor and pressed against me harder to regain his balance.

  “It appears we’re on the fast track to a fiery death, so I’d be interested in your other way out.” He slammed my head against the wall.

  Xerxes took a step forward, but Arcineaux forced my head into the wall with greater pressure until it felt like my skull might snap. I cried out; Xerxes backed down.

  “I don’t understand Nye’s fascination with you. You’re far too much trouble, but that’s the risk you run taking in strays off the street.”

  Another glance at Winnie.

  He’d restricted my airflow so long that the world began to disappear into the ether. Iva’s sparks fizzled; even the gunshots died to a barely there crackle of weak fireworks.

  Determined that Arsenic’s toxic scowl wouldn’t be the last thing I saw, I set my focus over his shoulder to Jermay and Birch and Winnie, all being held at bay by Arcineaux’s men, and to Xerxes and Bijou.

  Bijou’s snout and the smoke still curling from it.

  I closed my eyes and used the remainder of my strength to home in on one of those distant muted pops. When I found one, I snatched the burning flash from the end of whatever barrel spawned it and brought the flame into my hand, holding it at my side until Arcineaux had no choice but to notice.

  “How—”

  He recoiled from the sight, leaping backward, and the second I was free to draw a breath, I sent the embers off my fingers into Bijou’s snout, diving for the floor as white-hot fire cleared the hall.

  Klok grabbed Anise with the hand not holding Birdie; Jermay and Birch propped my arms up over theirs; and we were off with Winnie in the lead. I could hear my creeper light rattling along with us, but it was no longer alone. Our accidental mascot had attracted others, and they were joining us as a swarm. Creeper lights poured out of doorways. The ceiling clogged with climbers. They covered our retreat, leaving Arsenic without a clear shot.

  “Stop them!” Arcineaux ordered, turning our escape into a mad chase, which became even more hectic when his men started shooting.

  Bullets pinged off the metal walls, chipping plaster when they managed to hit that instead. Someone aimed far too high and an overhead light crashed down to the side, but we didn’t miss a step.

  One shot shattered a section of the plasma tanks that ran the length of the walls, spilling a tidal wave of pink sludge onto the floor, but the men chasing us kept coming, splashing through it as they ran. We lost our traction, and our advantage. Klok wiped out, and the rest of us didn’t have time to slow down before we piled into him.

  “Do something, Penn!” Winnie shouted.

  I put my hands wrist-deep into the sludge. Plasma was a conductor; I could fry them.

  “Get clear!” I warned our creeper light and its friends; they all scattered out of range.

  I felt the surge, and the crackle of electric current, but it wasn’t broadcasting the way I’d expected. The plasma bubbled up, and at first I thought it was boiling, but the bubbles didn’t pop. They rose off the floor, growing frills around the edges, and delicate luminescent lines at their base that dropped into newly formed tentacles . . . Medusae. Adding current to the plasma was creating tiny Medusae.

  “They’re golems!”

  I wasn’t sure I’d said it out loud until Winnie and the others backed away from me.

  “Oh my God,” Anise breathed, leaning on the wall.

  “What did you do?” Jermay shook me. “Penn, what did you do?”

  “I-I don’t know!”

  I pulled my hands out and stared as the infant Medusae seeped into the sludge and lost their shape. The ones I’d made had been the size of baseballs, but the ones from the Great Illusion were the size of cities. Who—or what—could create a golem that big? And why would they?

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it. All I knew was that the failing Center had been built to duplicate the conditions from the Great Illusion. I’d just made myself part of the process, and Arcineaux had seen me do it.

  Half the men chasing us ran when they saw the blobs of plasma start to transform, but Arcineaux came straight for me, yanking me up by my hair. It made sense to me now why Vesper had despised her wig so; every inch was another weakness to exploit.

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” He dragged me up until I was directly in front of his horrid face. “Maybe you’re worth keeping after all. You’re certainly worth more than some.”

  This time when he tossed his condescending smirk at Winnie, she wasn’t the shell of herself rocking on the ground. She was on her feet, and furious.

  “I may have to spend some extra time on you once we’re on the ground. I’m sure you’re just full of interesting secrets.”

  His eyes left my face, skimming over the rest of me until I felt like I’d been stripped with my clothes still on.

  “Let. Her. Go,” Winnie ordered.

  “I’ve warned you about using that mouth without permission.” Arcineaux shoved me away, toward Birch. “Maybe this time,” he said, advancing on Winnie, “I’ll save myself the trouble and cut out your tongue so I can teach you to hold it.”

  “You’ll never lay another hand on me or anyone,” Winnie said.

  “Something else you never learned, vermin: never bluff if you can’t follow through. You can’t hurt me.”

  Winnie didn’t blink.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said; a chilling twitch tugged at her mouth. “Causing pain is your specialty.”

  Arcineaux started forward again, but Bijou coiled his neck around Winnie, warning him off. Winnie patted Bijou’s scales.

  “The protocols may keep me from protecting myself, but they can’t stop me from protecting someone else. And I don’t have to hurt you. It won’t hurt at all.” She twisted her wrists in the air, as though the scars encircling them were bracelets. “All I have to do is tell you to hold your breath, and never let it go.”

  Her eyes turned jet black, and her voice became a terrifying rasp that would have chilled anyone who’d seen her act over the years.

  Arcineaux gaped like a fish thrown on land. He stumbled away, panicked into a sweat.

  “My tongue works just fine where it is.” Winnie stopped fighting the smile on her lips.

  Arcineaux brought his hands to his throat, trying to force air into it.

  “You made your point; let him go so we can leave,” I said.

  “He’s stolen too many breaths from too many people. He deserves this.”

  “And more,” Birch said beside me. “Let him choke.”

  “But you don’t deserve to live with this because of him,” I pleaded. I didn’t say it, but I was actually relieved to see that he’d survived my attack in Nye’s office. I’d lived with the weight of killing my brother; I didn’t want to carry another soul on my shoulders.

  “Guilt is only for those who regret what they’ve done,” Winnie said. “I won’t.”

  Arcineaux fell to the floor, trembling with convulsions. He was still writhing when we r
eached the doors.

  CHAPTER 44

  It was the Aerie or nothing.

  Bijou and Xerxes forced a path through the clog of people on the main floor, but the crowd thinned quickly past the halfway point. No one unfamiliar with the Center’s layout knew that the warden’s private lift was anything other than the ornate dead end it appeared to be. Klok forced the doors open; the car was stopped above us.

  “Cut it,” I said.

  A few people moved closer, either curious or desperate for the promise of possible escape, and I had no doubt that once word of Arcineaux’s demise spread, there would be more. But anyone who wanted to follow us was going to have to find their own way up.

  Xerxes slashed through the cables like scissors with twine, and the brass car clanged against the sides as it fell beyond our floor to the facility’s lowest levels.

  “All clear,” Klok said, once he’d inspected the empty shaft.

  I climbed on Xerxes’ back with Jermay and Birch.

  “Don’t drop us,” I whispered, and laid my head on the gryphon’s neck to steady myself against the jolt when he stood vertical on his hind legs to grasp the inner wall and pull us up. The satchel that Klok had carried became a harness of sturdy vines in Birch’s hands to help us hang on against gravity, while Klok kept a tight grip on Anise and Birdie, cradling them between himself and Bijou. Winnie held on to his neck.

  Bijou blew out a warning blast to discourage the handful of Arcineaux’s men who had shadowed us. He scuttled onto the opposite wall, as it shuddered.

  It wasn’t a smooth ride, but the worst of the explosions had ceased, and we made it without difficulty or delay—a triumph even the golems shared; Xerxes shattered the glass doors with his head, and I couldn’t help but think there was a particular sort of satisfaction in the way he stood once he was inside the Aerie. Bijou stormed out of the shaft, curling around the lift column so that half of his body was on its other side.

  The shutters that had been in place the first time I’d set foot there were still retracted, giving a panoramic view of the ships fleeing the Center. In the distance, official vessels were headed in to assess the damage. Grainy shouts crackled through a radio setup in the lift, demanding details and reports from anyone able to give them.

  The Center was still sinking.

  “I’ll open the top,” I said. “Be ready to lift off as soon as we’re clear.”

  I launched from Xerxes’ back, heading for the panel that controlled the Aerie’s covering, but someone had ripped it out of the wall.

  “I’m afraid you won’t find much use in that, pet. I misjudged the source of the racket you and your merry band were making on your way up. I thought my less-than-worthy adversary had come to make his escape from on high. Improvisation has never been my strong suit.”

  Nye stepped out from behind the column, as far away from Bijou as the space inside the Aerie would allow. The heat-laden hiss of dragon’s breath warmed the air around us. He had a squat glass in his hand, half full of amber liquid.

  “Arcineaux’s dead,” I told him.

  “I’ll take Iva’s absence to mean he wasn’t the only casualty.”

  “He killed her,” I said. “And Greyor.”

  “That must have been horrible for you. I’m sorry.” The harsh cadence of Nye’s voice was every bit as magnetic as the view. The more I told myself to avoid it, the harder it became to do so.

  “Don’t.” Birch had followed, and grabbed me by the arm. “Stay away from him, Penelope. He’s just trying to get his hooks in you again.”

  “I was never on his hook.”

  “Oh yes, you were,” Nye said. “My mistake was in thinking you were there as the catch, rather than the bait.” There was shouting in the lift shaft, then banging, as though people were trying to climb the remains of the cables, but not quite managing it. “You’re stardust. I was a fool to try to bottle you.”

  “Penn!” Jermay shouted, craning his neck from atop Xerxes. The noises from inside the elevator shaft became more uniform, with tall shadows of men cast against the walls. “They’re coming up.”

  Anise was awake now, clinging to Bijou’s metal scales, her weight tipped forward. Her collar’s daze seemed to have lifted.

  “Forget the controls,” Birch said. “I can get us out of here, but you have to be off the floor. It won’t be there when I’m done.” He turned to Nye. “Run. You’re the only father I ever had, so for that you get a chance—use the lift cables to get to a lower floor.”

  “I knew you were a bad influence on him, pet,” Nye said. “Bravo. He needed one.”

  He turned to the view outside the Aerie, staring at the space beyond, as if he were seeing things the rest of us couldn’t fathom. His dreams were dropping out of sight, falling faster than the rest of us.

  “Get back to Xerxes,” I told Birch. He looked uneasy, but he did as I asked.

  “They say in the old days, captains of great ships would stay with the wheelhouse if their vessels sank. Go out a gentleman, with brandy and cigars as a peace offering for Death.” Nye swirled his glass. “Take your freedom, pet—you’ve earned it. I’ve earned other things.”

  “Penn!” Jermay cried again. “If those ships reach us before we leave, we won’t be going anywhere.”

  He and the others were already hovering off the floor, and the Commission’s response vessels were growing larger. I heard Klok’s display running at double speed.

  “Nieva says when Penn is reckless, I can be rude. Penn is being reckless.”

  That was my warning before he hoisted me up by the back of my dress to plunk me down on Xerxes.

  “Stay near the column supports . . . please,” Birch called out to Nye, waiting for him to retreat. “I don’t want to watch you die.”

  Then Birch laid his hand against the Aerie’s side, eyes closed in concentration. A delicate pattern of white started below his fingers on the glass sphere, spreading out like quick-spun lace. Birch opened his eyes and blew out a long breath, setting a giant cloud of fluff flying in all directions.

  He’d turned the Aerie into a dandelion.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Pe—Penn.” Nye choked on the nickname. “You gave me hope, and for that I shall never forgive you.”

  In his own twisted way, Nye had an integrity unto himself. He’d sold every piece of his soul, save his love of the truth, without realizing the people he sold it to had nothing of value to offer in return.

  Anise reached a weak hand across the space between Bijou and Xerxes, seeking mine. I gave it to her, relieved that she had the strength to squeeze it. And that gave me one last, crazy idea.

  “Are we over land or sea?” I called to Nye.

  “We’re directly above the facility that deployed those ships,” he answered with a knowing smile.

  “What does it matter?” Birch asked.

  “Because we need cover, and those ships can’t fly in a dust storm without clogging their engines. Anise? Can you do this?”

  She nodded, tightening her grip on my hand.

  Good, because what I was about to do, I couldn’t manage without her.

  I dug down, imagining my hands in soil, and called back the sensations that had been imprinted on the painting of my family, allowing one to take precedence over the others. Air and earth—always touching at the horizon, yet separate—became a solid circle. That circle churned, spinning faster and faster until its momentum nearly pulled it from my grasp.

  “What are you doing?” Winnie yelled into the storm.

  “Finding my balance.”

  Earth can be scattered by the wind. My father’s voice looped through my memory, chanting lessons I’d taken for granted. But Magnus Roma never said anything on a whim.

  He hadn’t been teaching me to cage the Celestine—he’d been teaching me to harness her. A forbidden tru
th hidden in plain sight.

  Nye wrapped one arm in the lift cables to steady himself as the winds raked across the ruined Aerie.

  “Do your worst, Penelope Roma. Bring the rain!” He tipped his glass toward me, then drank it down and smashed it on the floor.

  I summoned a tempest spirit so much like Vesper’s I thought I heard her laughter in the air, and sent it straight toward the ships bearing down on us. It whipped around the platform, gaining speed until I let it fly as fierce and sure as the stone in a slingshot. The lead ship began to fall.

  I felt a nudge, heard a rumble. Rocks pinged off my legs and arms, swirling about my face until I managed to gain control and weave each tiny particle into the fabric of a solid wall of writhing dust that set itself between the approaching ships and the Center.

  Anise shored me up with her strength and focus. I was the current; she was the circuit. Together, we were unstoppable. The vessels resigned themselves to a midair stop to avoid choking their engines; they bobbed in the gentlest part of the wind and did the only thing they could—wait.

  “There you go, giving me hope again. Magnus would be proud.” With an irreverent salute, Nye left us, using his metal hands for a brace as he dropped down the lift chute.

  It was the kind of remark you’d make about the dead, but I wasn’t ready to give up on my father. For sixteen years, I’d watched him blur the line between magic and machine. He’d found a way to evacuate The Show’s family from a raid; he’d built Iva, bringing my mother back from the dead to protect me from the warden. He certainly wouldn’t have left himself out of his equations. That was more than enough room for hope to settle in.

  I was fighting spots in my vision and numbness in my hands and feet. Inside The Show, being Celestine had been a nuisance. Outside, it was painful, and I was already feeling the fatigue of using too much power for too long. The sand curtain began to thin as Anise succumbed to her own exhaustion. If it dissipated completely, the ships would be able to start up again.