by S. W. Clarke
Watch her, Tara. Watch her close.
The moment she went into motion, I shot out Louise, the longer of the pair. I wouldn’t be able to manage an overhead crack, but I could aim lower. I just needed to time it right.
The whip made a languid arc toward her thigh. Even so, I knew I’d gotten it right; the cracker sliced her right across the quadricep, shredding her leather pants as though they were silk.
Her expression shifted, shock intermixing with her determination. She’d forgotten the razor-sharp spikes nestled in Louise’s cracker. And I was right: her course shifted a degree, and I managed to drop my left shoulder away to avoid the blade.
When it whistled past me, I felt the air displace.
I didn’t waste my moment. I spun on her as she reached the steps, shooting out Thelma as fast as I was able.
But, of course, she was faster.
The butt of the sword came out, and she pegged me right in the solar plexus. White-hot heat bloomed in my chest as I staggered back.
She pivoted, following it up with a slash down my center, a graceful knife-cut from my left shoulder to my right hip. I dropped to my knees as my blood sprayed in a perfect line away from me, splattered across the fine gravel.
She stepped up to me, pulling the rapier back with its tip pointed straight at my heart. She only had to run it through me once to end me completely.
And that was when, in a single clarifying instant, it all became real.
Truly, life-endingly real.
If I died here, I would be gone forever.
“This won’t be the end,” she whispered, taking a step forward to stand over me. “You will live on in me.”
But she was wrong—she didn’t know what would happen to me. My whole existence might blip out, and I would never see the world again. It didn’t properly matter to her, as long as the two halves of my soul joined. As long as she got her dominance.
And I couldn’t stop that. She had all the cards. She was stronger than I had ever imagined.
But it wasn’t in my nature to give in.
“I’m so sorry,” she went on, and I could see the sincerity in her eyes. In my eyes. “I don’t do this for me. I do it for her.”
I racked my mind. I needed more time, and I needed it now.
Think, Tara. Think.
Mariana’s memories had always been stronger than my present. Why? Why was it she had rapidly begun to overtake me from the moment Valdis had stabbed me on that roof?
Belief. Belief created power.
And she’d lived a long life during her time, had plenty of time to cultivate that belief in herself. But most of all, it was Ariadne. Mariana knew she was better equipped than anyone to save Ariadne.
What about me?
Orion had told me I was stronger than I realized, that the creation crystal’s power was manifesting itself in me.
He had given me the thread, not her.
He had stared into my eyes, not hers.
And Typhon? He had let me keep the crystal to finish my quest.
Erik had given me the grenade.
So why didn’t I believe in myself?
The realization came as a simple and swift thing.
That was it: I hadn’t ever really believed in myself. Not truly. Not deep down. And I knew the reason why …
“Thelma,” I whispered.
A muscle in Mariana’s cheek twitched. “Thelma?”
“I didn’t believe I could rescue Percy,” I said, eyes unfocused. “Not really.” I barreled on, understanding coalescing in my brain and slipping out my mouth. “Because I never saved Thelma that night in the tent. I failed her. And so deep down, I believed I’d fail Percy.”
I’d said lots of pretty words and made passionate declarations. But those were words, and words aren’t belief.
Tears hit my eyes, and Mariana’s face blurred. This wasn’t about her and me at all. This was—and always had been, ever since that night—about my battle with myself.
It was me I had to defeat. It was always me I had to overcome.
And could I rescue Percy? Could I believe in myself like Mariana believed in herself?
People believed in me. They had given me what I needed.
The thread. The crystal. The grenade.
It wasn’t just them. I sensed Frank, too, had placed his trust in me to hunt down Lust and break her spell over Seleema.
I couldn’t fail Frank. I couldn’t fail Erik. I couldn’t fail Orion.
Most of all, I couldn’t fail that dragon.
I had to be greater than the Tara I’d known. I’d failed Thelma five years ago, when I was a fourteen-year-old full of naïveté and whip-quick fear of death. And yet I had lashed myself to that one night for years, and I hadn’t even realized it.
I’d never let myself be greater. I’d never let myself be who I could be.
Even now, Mariana’s memories were leaking in, pouring down around me, all the horror and majesty of the life she’d lived. The joy of her love, the terror of all those deaths.
No. Not now. Not yet.
I couldn’t fail Percy.
As I thought it, I glimpsed him in my mind’s eye. That blue, spiny face. Those intelligent golden eyes. Percival, staring back at me with love. The dragon who’d always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.
And that changed everything.
↔
“I am so sorry,” Mariana said, and I could hear the sincerity. I could also hear her intent. With a simple, delicate thrust, Mariana sent the rapier straight at my heart.
This time, I followed the blade’s course. I measured its speed and angle.
Crackling determination surged in me, through my nerves and into my hand, my fingers. I opened my mouth, poured out all the air in my lungs and rose to my feet. As I did, I slashed upward with Thelma and Louise.
Thelma leapt out at the rapier, the cracker looping around the thin blade and wrapping tight. Louise snaked up toward Mariana’s hairline, serrating the skin from her temple to her opposite eye.
Bingo.
I yanked Thelma, dislodging the rapier from her grip in one swift motion. The small sword clattered to the ground, and I kicked it away.
Mariana, blood already seeping from her wound, stepped back with a cry. I had never heard such a thing from her, never seen the wildness in her one good eye as her hand raised to touch the wound.
“How?” she cried out. “You … you’re supposed to be …”
“Slower than you?” I straightened, aggravating the pain of the wound on my chest. “Not anymore, snowdrop.”
Her fingers curled at her side. She understood what had happened: I’d realized my own power. The creation crystal might have been spurring her on, but it was inside MY body.
My power stemmed from my belief. That was what Typhon and Orion had told me. And that was what kept me in this fight—belief.
With a snarl, Mariana spun before I could close the distance between us. She made for a weapons’ rack on the far wall, brimming from end to end with spears of every length.
Box of frogs. My biggest weakness.
I didn’t have time to chase her. I dropped the whips where I stood, spun toward the opposite wall and the rack Mariana had retrieved the rapier from. There, I spied my solution.
By the time I’d gotten to the rack and yanked out the first sword I could get my fingers around, Mariana’s feet were already tapping across the floor.
I turned, bringing the sword up just as I spotted the lethal tip of a ten-foot spear angled straight at the center of my gut. At the far end of it, a bloodied Mariana ran with chest forward and both hands gripping the shaft tight.
I swallowed, gripping the broadsword with both hands. I widened my stance as I had learned to do as a girl. I’d been trained in so many weapons, though swords weren’t my forte by any measure. Still, I only needed one good swing, and now I had the advantage of being on the same footing as my enemy.
Blood covered half her face like a red
rag as she opened her mouth with a yell, rushing me at full speed. She intended this one to be the end of it.
Wait for it, Tara.
I needed to let her think I wouldn’t move. She needed to stay on course, which meant I needed to stay as still as a woman being borne down on with a ten-foot spear could.
My heart nearly hammered its way out of my chest, the spearpoint almost at my gut before I stepped aside, slashing the broadsword down and cleaving the point from the shaft.
The rest of the shaft hit the wall behind me, splintered there. And I thought Mariana would run right into the weapons’ rack.
But she had anticipated my move.
She released the shaft and managed to redirect her momentum enough to throw herself bodily into me, slamming me into the wall with her shoulder.
All the air went out of me, even as I reached out for anything I could grab. I knew I was going over, and I knew if she remained upright, the fight would be over.
I managed to grab hold of her leather vest just as I went down, and she fell atop me in a flurry of hair and blood and lips curled back from her teeth. She immediately started scrabbling to straddle me.
Even without breath, I knew I couldn’t let her pin me down. I bucked up, throwing her off me. She rolled aside, and I shoved myself to my elbows, still trying to breathe.
No dice.
As she got up onto her hands and knees, I spun around on my back, kicking out with both feet. One foot caught her in the side, knocking her over.
I rolled onto my hands, and at that moment my air came back in a rush. I sucked a deep breath in with a gasp and pushed myself up enough to stumble through the gravel toward her, my feet kicking and sliding.
I didn’t know how I would win this. We had the same strength and the same weight, which made us functional equals. All I knew was I couldn’t stop trying.
I wouldn’t go down until I couldn’t get back up.
When I reached her, she lay partly on her side. One of her hands flashed out, and a handful of gravel flew into my eyes.
My eyes instinctively shut, even as I pressed wildly on. In the next moment, searing pain flashed through my head as what I assumed was her fist connected with my temple.
Down I went, narrowly avoiding my head connecting with the ground. I heard her moving through the gravel beside me, and I knew she was going for the rapier.
No—no!
I forced my eyes open, spotted her almost on her feet and making for the rapier some five feet beyond where her arm could reach. My hand shot out, reaching for her ankle.
I couldn’t make it.
That was when I spotted her—Louise. She lay within reach of me, coiled up like a snake on the ground.
I grabbed her, shooting her out toward Mariana’s ankle. The pronged end coiled around her boot and caught, held tight.
She fell forward onto her knees with a cry, reaching out toward the rapier. Meanwhile, I hauled her back, Louise tightening around her ankle until the spikes bit through the leather of her boots and made her yell out.
She rolled onto her back, kicking out at me with her free leg. She missed the first time, connected with my shoulder the second time. When I cried out, she rolled to her haunches, using her momentum to throw another punch at me.
This one connected, too. I felt my lip split on my teeth as her knuckles drove straight into my mouth, sending my head back.
I fell back, blood spurting into my mouth from my cut lip. My head swam with pain and deliriousness, but I managed to lift it when I heard the sound of her moving.
I couldn’t lose consciousness. If I did now, I’d lose it forever.
No more delicate work of swords and whips. We were just two desperate women reduced to our most primal, basic instincts. We were both fighting for our lives. For our children’s lives.
When she threw the next punch, I rolled aside and elbowed her in the ribcage. She yelled out as she fell, and I spun and delivered my own kick. This one connected with a resounding crack, what I assumed to be one of her ribs fracturing.
She lay there on her stomach, arm beneath her, breathing hard and ragged.
That had to be it.
Just stop. Please just stop.
She didn’t stop. She began pulling herself up, and I threw myself over onto my hands, preparing to straddle her. From there, our fighting lost all throughline, all real narrative—we were just two feral creatures punching and kicking and yelling.
And neither one of us would stop. Every time she got in a good blow, I struggled back up. And every time I landed a solid one, she kept on moving.
Until she delivered an uppercut to my chin. It sent my head snapping back, and I fell to the ground, splayed like a starfish.
Don’t lose consciousness, I berated myself as I lay there. Just stay awake, Tara.
I tried to keep her in my view. She had hauled herself first to her knees, then to her feet. Blood covered her face, her cut eye shut. She stared at me like a red wraith, exhausted from the fight. “Don’t get up.”
I swallowed, feeling the warm blood seep down my throat. Above me, the cavernous ceiling was nowhere to be seen—just darkness.
And in that darkness I saw the mirage of my dragon. I couldn’t stop seeing him, not when my eyes were open or closed. I finally understood what it meant to fight for something important.
Not revenge. Not bloodlust.
Love.
My chest caught with the realization, and I coughed up blood. Even so, I was already picking myself up. When I found my feet, I stared at Mariana with equal exhaustion. The last place I wanted to be was upright.
I spat on the ground next to me, red splattering the gravel.
“Well,” I managed to say as I met her eyes, “is that all you’ve got?”
She just stared like I was a creature she’d never seen before. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“How you keep persisting. The creation crystal should have done its work by now.”
I coughed again, and more blood seeped from the rapier wound across my chest. “It’s fairly simple, snowdrop.” I lowered my chin, my hands fisting at my sides. Don’t collapse, Tara. Just keep standing. “I won’t die until I save him. Now if you want to go again, I’ll give you a taste of your own knuckles.”
She exhaled at that, weariness overtaking her. Finally, finally, she slumped to the ground.
And so I did, too.
“All right,” she said, wiping blood from her good eye. “All right.”
“All right?”
“All right,” she repeated with finality.
“Why?” I said.
“Because I remembered something Valdis said,” she panted. “At the end he told me, ‘You both must wield the weapon.’ And …”
“And?”
She blinked one puffy eye, the tiniest flicker of respect appearing on her face. “And you refuse to die.”
Chapter 37
When finally I stepped out of the bathroom, a whole line of female Others had amassed outside, a few of them doing the knock-kneed stance, others giving me dirty looks.
Apparently it wasn’t part of Other-code to knock when you needed to go.
“I guess we were in there a while,” I murmured.
“Sometimes these kinds of agreements take time,” Mariana said.
Of course, my lips hadn’t moved. The conversation had taken place inside my head. Which was still my head—or, I should say, our head. At least for a time.
As I walked down the hallway, I smiled. She was right. Agreements like this weren’t simple, easy affairs.
At least the wounds we’d sustained hadn’t translated to real life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have walked out of that bathroom.
As I came out into the bar, I pulled my phone from my jacket and dialed Frank. The tremor in my hand was gone. “Where are you?” I asked when he picked up.
“I’m standing in what remains of the apartment,” he said with a sad solemnity. I heard sc
raping. “Oh look, Seleema’s favorite toy survived. I guess you really can’t destroy silicon.”
I smirked, altogether grateful for Frank in the midst of all this awfulness. He’d gotten some of his wryness back. “Hey, can we meet in half an hour? I’ve got something to say.”
“You can’t say it on the phone?”
“Phones are so impersonal, Frank.”
Frank had figured out when my requests were serious. So instead of any more questions, he said, “Tell me where.”
When I’d gotten off the phone, I found Orion and Grunt still reminiscing at the bar. I stepped up between them. “Orion”—I patted my jacket where I’d pocketed his gift—“I knew there was a reason you were my hero. I’ve got to go now, but you’ve done me a real service. I won’t forget it.”
He lowered his drink. “Remember what I said about that thread.”
I zeroed in on the center of his chest with my finger. “Hit ‘em in the heart every time.”
He nodded like a sage dad. A hot sage dad. “Take care, Tara.”
I turned to Grunt. “You can come, if you like. But any debt you had to me is paid.”
Grunt threw back his drink and stood with a squeal of his stool. “I may have paid my debt to you, but you and I have a common debt to pay to one mortal sin.”
I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased to hear it.
“You will be glad for the ogre’s help,” Mariana said to me. “His loyalty doesn’t come easily, and it fades half as fast as with most.”
I nodded as Grunt and I walked out of the bar and back toward the elevator. I’d never appreciated how perceptive Mariana was about people until now—not like I’d listened to her before.
But I was all ears from here on. She and I needed each other if we were going to get what we both wanted.
↔
Half an hour later, Grunt and I sat sandwiched in a nearby coffee shop. After some internal deliberation with Mariana, she and I had decided on a lavender latte. I wouldn’t have picked it, but I wasn’t making all the decisions anymore.
And crackling whip, was this drink delicious.