by Nina Smith
Then his vision righted itself. The masks slid into focus. Moon Troopers pinned his arms and legs to the rock floor. Sparks crackled from the end of an upraised lightning rod.
A piercing whistle split the cave, distracting the vampires for just half a second. Nikifor jerked out of their hold, but barely succeeded in shaking them loose before the iron grip of their hands dragged him to the ground. He caught a glimpse of Ishtar and her fairies streaming into the cave before the vampires swamped him again. His axe glinted in vampire hands. The lightning rod cracked and he was hit in the back with what felt like a house. He jerked three times, his limbs beyond his control, but not his senses. Foul, stale smoke filled the already dank underground air. He knew that smell too well, but there was nothing he could do.
His vision hazed. A woman bent over him. Her hair brushed his face. Her voice was devoid of anything, anything at all. “That’s him. That’s the one the king wants. He’ll have to be kept unconscious until we get there.” Her hand grasped his hair and yanked his head up. “Ran out of luck this time, didn’t you?”
Horror. The king. The Tormentor. If once he allowed himself back in that monster’s power, he was done for. He fought the darkness, but he couldn’t move a finger, much less a limb, to fling them off. How did this happen? How did he fail? He was meant to be the Champion.
Something groaned and shook the cavern.
Nikifor clawed his way back to awareness just enough to twist his head and see one of the huge iron frames lean at a drunken angle.
A Moon Trooper gave a strangled yell. Nikifor jerked so suddenly he tore free of half of the hands holding him, and then he saw what was happening. A crowd of Freakin Fairies across the lake, led by Clockwork, had thrown themselves against the supports and forced it out of its mooring.
“Stop them!” A Moon Trooper roared.
The vampires surged away, but it was too late for most of them. Nikifor watched in horrified fascination while a massive bucket swung crazily from its hook, spraying silver over the shores of the lake. It struck the iron and split apart. Silver exploded in every direction.
He yanked himself free of the vampires with a final effort, but in the chaos they tripped him and dragged him down again. Silver rained on the heads of the crowd, pouring closer and closer. Pieces of the bucket plunged to the ground, one impaling a Moon Trooper through the ribs.
The raging battle on the other side of the cave sounded like a distant spat between tomcats. Vampires screamed when the silver hit their clothes and froze them forever. Freakin Fairies cheered a wild, fierce battle cry.
Nikifor watched the silver rain over Moon Troopers who were touching him. He dragged himself out again, somehow wrested his axe from a dead vampire. This time someone grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him from the grasping hands. He popped free like a cork from a bottle and dived behind the shelter of a jutting rock while the silver rained down on the spot where he’d been trapped.
Nikifor sat in the darkness, taking deep breaths, his eyes closed. Latent panic spiralled from his gut. “I think I just sat in the gaping jaws of gruesome death!” he yelled.
Fitz, sitting next to him, patted him on the shoulder. “That you did, mate. That you did.”
Nikifor exhaled, a long, shuddering breath. He looked at Fitz and saw the strain on his friend’s face. “You saved my life.”
“Thought you were already dead for a minute there. Come on.” Fitz jerked his head at the raging battle.
Nikifor crawled out from behind the rock. Moon Troopers lay dead in piles, their gleaming masks the only thing left uncorrupted by the silver that pooled slowly, inexorably outwards. In the rest of the cave the battle raged on between fairies, vampires and false muses. The Bloody Fairies were vastly outnumbered, but they’d made serious dents. The Freakin Fairies freed each other from their tasks in order to join the fight. The machinery ground to a slow, shuddering halt.
“They hardly need us out there.” Fitz gave Nikifor a cheerful grin and stepped into the battle.
There was a puff of smoke. The grin dropped from Fitz’s face. Something protruded from his chest. He looked down, bewildered, and touched a bloodied blade. He looked back at Nikifor. “What?” Then he dropped to the ground.
The blonde false muse stood behind him, still holding the dagger. She smiled at Nikifor, a thin, evil curve of the lips. Her eyes gleamed nothingness from behind the curtain of hair. “What’s the matter?” she said. “Someone just kill off the entire Invisible Army? Not so invisible anymore, huh?”
The anger erupted. Nikifor opened his mouth and roared. He swung the axe at her head, but she disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Then, for a while, he knew nothing more except the swing of the axe, the splash of blood, screams. The floor under his feet was slick with vampire blood. His axe buried, again and again, in masks and coats and flesh. His own skin and clothes were coated with a sticky layer of red. His hair turned to blood-clotted ropes. Vampires fell wherever he went, but the blonde puff of smoke he sought eluded him until finally, she was right there, a ball of crackling fire in each hand, her back to him, her attention on Ishtar. Smoke wisped from her shoulders.
“Die,” Nikifor said.
She whipped around to face him. “What?”
“Die.” Nikifor brought his axe down, but before he struck, the false muse crackled. Her face contorted and she burst into flames. She screamed once, a terrible, tortured sound, then disappeared.
Nikifor whipped around. Balls of fire exploded throughout the cave everywhere a false muse stood. Shock froze him where he stood, until a vision as violent as the battle around him brought him to his knees.
He saw Flower, clear as day. He’d never seen a look of such concentrated rage on her face. She smashed the machine of his nightmares to rubble with an iron bar.
“Flower!” he yelled.
But lost in her own destructive fury, she didn’t hear him.
Nikifor saw the Tormentor lying unconscious on the floor. Elation so sudden it was terrifying burst on him. She’d figured it out. She’d beaten the king.
And then he was back in the cave, on his knees on blood-covered stone. He leaped to his feet, ready to fight again.
Clockwork appeared in front of him, holding his hands up. “Whoa, mate, stop.” The Freakin Fairy grabbed the handle of the axe and lowered it. “It’s alright. You’ve done enough. We’ve won.”
Nikifor dropped the axe and looked around. On every inch of floor lay dead and dying vampires. There were fairies among them, some, but not too many, and somewhere, Fitz.
His breath caught. His ribs hurt. For that one moment, Nikifor remembered why he was terrified of himself.
He remembered why he needed the Vibe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Shazza’s vulnerable moment passed as quickly as it had started. She scowled down at Pierus. “Are you sure we can’t kill him? He’s going to be really pissed when he wakes up.”
“I’m sure. Let’s get out of here and find Pinky.” Flower grabbed Pierus by the collar and dragged him through the door that was now blasted from its hinges. She dropped him at the top of the stairs, since it seemed a slightly safer place than near the smouldering machine.
Shazza’s mouth tightened. Her lip curled back. “I hate you,” she said to the unconscious form. “You stole my life. I know you said it wasn’t much of a life to lose, but it was mine, you bastard.” She aimed a savage kick at his ribs.
Pierus rolled over, teetered on the edge of the stairs and then bounced down them, one by one, only coming to a halt on the second floor landing.
Flower winced, but somehow she didn’t think that was going to kill the king. “Come on,” she said, and descended the stairs two at a time. “She must be on the second floor somewhere. That’s where she went last.”
“The second floor?” Shazza clattered down next to her. They skirted Pierus and darted down the long hall, trying each door as they went.
“He told her to explore and she went
up the stairs,” Flower said. “I thought she’d be okay.”
“If he told her to explore, then there was something he wanted her to find.” Shazza’s voice was grim.
Flower was starting to think just that, but she didn’t want to admit it out loud. She didn’t want to admit she’d let Pinky walk into some kind of trap. She didn’t want to admit her key had let that monster hound Nikifor until he was a shell of his former self. She didn’t want to admit she’d been wrong, so wrong about everything, but there was little choice in the matter now. She rattled another door, but it was locked, just like all of them had been. “Pinky!” she yelled.
A piercing scream came from the other end of the corridor.
Shazza disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Left to more conventional means, Flower bolted back the way she’d come. A metallic surge of fear and adrenalin gave her an added burst of speed when she reached the stairs to find Pierus gone. She ran to the other end of the corridor, caught the edge of an open doorway to stop herself and flung herself inside.
She didn’t get much further, because even though her brain refused to register what she was seeing, she couldn’t look away.
She’d never forgotten her first sight of the vampire king. Even for muses, Rustam Badora was the monster lurking under the bed, invading the dark, killing all who encountered him. She’d last seen that face in the aftermath of a war. Then he’d been in chains, on his way to eternity in the Gulakh, the prison Pierus had built and designed himself and whose secrets only he knew. The next she’d heard of Badora was that he was dead at the hands of Hippy Ishtar.
But the creature in front of her was not dead. Flower dug her fingers into the wall behind her. It was a long time since she’d seen a vampire without a mask. The purple veins that clawed his blue-white skin came as a shock. White-blonde hair was plastered to his shoulders and ribs like seaweed, uncut and uncared for since decades past. His skeletal frame curled like a grasshopper. A scar disfigured one entire shoulder.
These things were nothing; Flower was transfixed by the place where his right eye should have been. Silver wires snaked from the empty socket, wound around his face and skull and back again, anchored by barbs that resembled the claws of some brutal predator. From inside the socket shone a bright white light, a light that made her want to go close and touch.
But she was frozen in place. Shazza shrank into the far corner of the room. Badora was wired into the wall behind him, itself a maze of silver lines and terminals. The same wires and barbs that came from his eye embedded him to those terminals until it seemed impossible to tell where he ended and the circuit board behind him began.
Except he’d torn one hand from the restraints. From that hand dangled Pinky, struggling and kicking, while he brought her closer and closer to his long, extended fangs.
“Fairy.” Badora’s voice was rough and gravelly from lack of use.
The sound of that voice released Flower from the spell. She sprang forward. “Take your hands off her you filthy creature!”
The light in that right eye turned to Flower and almost blinded her. “Muse,” he said, and this time he looked bewildered. “Muse not girl. Muse a–a–a him!” He looked pleased with himself. He gave Pinky a shake and she screamed again. He swung his attention back to her. “Eat fairy,” he added.
Flower had no time to consider just what might have happened to Badora. This sure as Shadow wasn’t the king who’d reigned terror for so many years. She reached out for Pinky, but before she could touch her, she was pulled back.
Pierus’s hands on her shoulders made her skin crawl. She tried to yank herself away, but his fingertips bit into her skin so hard she cried out in pain. He spoke into her ear, making every hair on the back of her neck rise in revulsion. “I wouldn’t get too close,” he said. “He hasn’t been fed since the fairy supplies dried up. He’d happily drink both you and your friend.” He looked at the vampire king. “Two muses now,” he added in a loud voice. “But not for long.”
“Fairy,” Badora said, once more reaching out for Pinky.
“That’s not a fairy.” Pierus wrapped a hand around Flower’s shoulders. Steel pricked her throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled past her eye. “There my dear, comfortable? Now don’t move or I shall be forced to cut your pretty throat, and I really don’t want to do that. Kazza!”
There was no smoke. In her corner, Shazza made a swift movement, but shrank back at one look from Pierus.
“Fairy,” Badora insisted.
“For Shadow’s sake, what self-respecting fairy would go around looking like an overripe tomato? Kazza!” His voice took on an edge of fury.
Pinky burst into tears.
“Fairy!” Badora’s voice rose to match Pierus’s.
“It’s not a fairy! Eat it if you want, but don’t blame me when you get indigestion!”
“No, please let her go!” Flower yelled.
Shazza, who didn’t have a knife at her throat, acted more decisively. She leaped from her corner so suddenly Flower almost didn’t see her, grabbed Pinky and yanked her bodily from Badora’s grasp.
Pierus gave a furious yell, pushed Flower so hard she collided with the opposite wall and grabbed Shazza by the throat. “How dare you interfere?”
His words were almost lost in Badora’s deafening bellow. The vampire king jerked against his restraints and made the whole wall shiver. A wire crackled and threw out sparks. “Fairy!” he roared.
Flower picked herself up and crawled the few feet to where Pinky had landed. She helped her to a sitting position and checked her for injuries. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Pinky nodded, but her eyes were wide and staring, and Flower didn’t like the look in them. “I’m so sorry Pinky,” she whispered. “I should have listened to you. To you and everyone. This is all my fault.”
Badora’s roar, which had covered her words, came to an end. They both looked past him to Pierus and Shazza.
“I said where’s Kazza?” Pierus repeated. His hands squeezed and Shazza gasped for air.
“I don’t know!” she choked.
“Then find her!”
Shazza disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“Where go?” Badora yelled.
“Don’t you worry your ugly head about it,” Pierus snapped.
The vampire spotted Pinky again and lunged for her, causing more wires to crackle and spark. Flower got between them.
“Really Flower, this is very disruptive,” Pierus said. “Do you always cause this much mess when you pay a call?”
Shazza reappeared before Flower could reply. She was pale and wide-eyed, and she positioned herself well out of Pierus’s reach.
“Well?” he demanded. “Where’s your sister?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You might be the defective one, but even you can go anywhere in Shadow with a thought. How can you not find her?”
“She’s–not–there.” Shazza glanced at Flower. Something in her look was terrified, elated and furious all at once.
Pierus missed the look, but Flower understood. She brought her hands into her lap where nobody could see them shaking. Terror. Elation. She’d not just destroyed the machine, she’d destroyed the false muses too.
“What do you mean she’s not there? She has to be somewhere! Did you check the mine?”
“I mean, she’s not there.” Shazza’s voice grew stronger. Again she looked at Flower and this time Pierus caught the look.
“What?” He strode forward and dragged Flower to her feet. “What have you done?”
The key was still in Flower’s hand. She grasped it so tight the metal cut into her skin. She ignored Pierus and spoke instead to Shazza. “How many were there?”
“Sixty-five,” Shazza said. “All gone. Every one.”
“But not you?”
Pierus said what sounded like possibly the most filthy word Flower had ever heard. Once more his fingers dug in and he strode
from the room, dragging her with him.
Shazza ran after them, and Pinky after her, leaving the horror alone behind them. Even after the door closed on him Flower could hear him yelling.
Pierus dragged her up the stairs. Flower didn’t resist, since anywhere away from Badora was fine with her.
Pierus uttered a low, venomous oath when he saw the blasted open door, but when they stumbled into the room, he let her go. He fell to his knees and let out an inarticulate sound of rage, frustration, grief. “What have you done?”
“What I had to.” Flower rubbed the spots on her shoulder where his fingers had made purple marks. “You’ve gone quite mad, Pierus, and I cannot allow what you are doing to continue.”
He dropped his face into his hands. “You’ve killed them all.”
“Your false muses? That was not my intention, and for Shazza’s sake I regret it.”
“I don’t care about them.” Shazza approached the machine and ran her hand over a spot where flames flickered in the wreckage, waving her fingers through the fire. “He killed them a long time ago. I’m defective because he didn’t stamp out my soul. That’s it, isn’t it, king?”
“Nobody asked you,” Pierus snarled.
“I don’t care!” Shazza stamped her foot. “You made me what I am, you can bear the consequences! Tell me why I didn’t die too?”
Pierus paused. For the first time ever, Flower saw him look uncertain. He looked to the wreckage of the machine, then to Shazza, then back to her and Pinky. “The key,” he whispered. “The key is keeping her alive.”
Flower met Shazza’s eyes. “Run,” she mouthed, then she grabbed Pinky’s hand and bolted. They hurried down three flights of stairs and clattered across the huge, dilapidated foyer, only to come up against a locked door.
Pierus’s footsteps echoed on the stairs. He descended at a slow, almost lazy pace.