by S. M. Beiko
“Hmm?” Oh. How long had he been talking? “Can you repeat that last part?”
Barton exhaled loudly and started again. “Okay. So let me break down the mythology. Ancient equals the consciousness of the world — where things come from when they’re born-slash-created and where they return when they die. A big recycling plant. It’s treated like a living thing but is also the cradle of creation as well as the underworld. Comprende?”
I rolled my eyes. “I could have told you that, dude.”
“Anyway, Ancient used to speak and be independent, but about a thousand years ago, it just stopped. Radio silence. And over time, the Denizens’ abilities and powers started to lessen. Like, a thousand years ago, Zabor wouldn’t be a problem. But she only popped up recently.”
“How recent?”
“Around about the time when Lord Selkirk, the Scottish guy who settled the Red River Valley, showed up. The First Nations peoples tried to warn the settlers about the malevolent spirit that had been causing terrible floods and eating anyone who went near the river. Of course, the regular folk thought it was either superstition, sacrilege, or raving, so they went on their merry way. That’s when the Denizens realized it was Zabor.”
Barton turned a page in the book in his lap. “And she’s notorious. She isn’t some random bogeysnake bent on causing havoc for the sake of havoc. She was around at what the Denizens call the Narrative, or the beginning times, back when they were all animals, and humans were barely a sparkle in Ancient’s brain-eye. They call her a Celestial Darkling. The story goes that she was born out of a giant emptiness caused by three dying stars, which also made her brothers, Balaghast and Kirkald.”
We rounded a corner and were within spitting distance of Phae’s. The air was comfortable, but a chill zigzagged through my marrow regardless. “There are more like her?”
“Yep, and the three of them embody this bigger, ultimate darkling. So basically the Three Muskefears fell to Earth and tried to eat Ancient, gain its power, and bend creation to their will. They’re pretty much pure darkness. Separate they’re terrible, yeah, but together they’re the end of the world.”
I shook my head, tightening my arms to my chest. “Man. And one would just have to turn up in Winnipeg, wouldn’t it?”
Barton was thoroughly enjoying himself. “See, that’s the kicker. Ancient forged three seals — or ‘targes,’ that’s what the text calls them — that could imprison all of them in this place called . . . wait for it . . . the Bloodlands.”
Phae’s mouth twisted. “No, that doesn’t sound morbid at all.”
“Sounds like a hot vacation spot,” I said. In my reckoning, that made three planes of existence in the Denizen world: our reality, the Veil, and now this Bloodlands place. “So Ancient put them away for good, saved the world, et cetera?”
“No, no, Ancient made the targes. It was the Denizens that managed to put them all away. It takes the power of the Five Families to activate the targe. That’s why —”
“We need a Denizen from each of the Families to close the door on her.” Relief washed over me.
“And,” Phae put in helpfully, “a Rabbit can open the Bloodgate, which is the doorway we need to open to send Zabor back to her cage — once we use the targe on her, anyway.”
“Okay!” I felt brightness lift me out of my sleepless stupor. “So then, all we need is to get us one of these targe thingies, find a Rabbit who can do the thing, and try to recruit a Seal and an Owl. Then we’re done!” Saying it made me feel like we were bearing down on the finish line, even though reality told me to grip myself. At least a big part of the enormous puzzle had been filled in.
And then a big piece fell under the sofa, and we were back to nearly square one. “Well. Sort of,” Barton sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. We were at Phae’s now, but we were heading round the back. A pathway had been carefully dug in the snow, and plywood laid down, which made getting Barton to the backyard so much easier. I’d never seen this set-up here before, which just confirmed that Phae and Barton had been spending far more time together than I’d originally thought.
“The targe.” Phae picked up where Barton had left off. “It’s what kept Zabor imprisoned. But she somehow managed to break free of it and come through an open gateway between our world and the Bloodlands. When the Denizens found out she was here, they tried to send her back, but they weren’t able to. Not without the targe.”
I could see where this was going. “We don’t know where the targe is, do we?”
“You think if the Denizens did, they would’ve dealt with this themselves by now, instead of leaving it to a handful of teenagers, hm?” Sil picked a fine time to add some much-needed — and long overdue — commentary. She shook herself out.
I gritted my teeth, holding myself back from punting her clear across the yard. “And you didn’t tell me this stuff sooner, why?”
Sil snuffed. “You didn’t ask.”
Fury trembled through my bones until I buried my face in my hands and muffled a scream. Heat surged out through my boots and the snow around my feet evaporated. Phae yelped.
“Hey, chill!” Barton held his hands up, signing peace. “Like literally.”
I huffed, the breath cloud in front of me as good as seething dragon smoke. “Whatever. We still don’t know where this targe thing is. Unless you’re sitting on that info, too?” I glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. “So I guess the next step is finding it and shoving it right back down Zabor’s gullet.” I ground my fist into my palm, trying to affect ruthless courage, but as soon as I said “gullet,” the dream-jaws and their whirlpool of death flooded my spirit eye. I had only seen shadows of Zabor in my nightmares, but I doubt the image of me shoving anything at her was a plausible one.
“Easier said than done,” Sil confirmed, loping ahead of us as we came into the yard.
Phae’s house was the only sanctuary we had. It was private, quiet, and safe from the scrutiny of our parents, other Denizens, and the river hunters. We were headed for the shed in the back — Phae’s mom’s old studio. She did all kinds of art, spending hours on huge installations, but since they’d done an addition on the house last spring, she was able to move her artistic operations back into the house. She’d given Phae the space to use for whatever she needed: studying, working . . . facilitating meetings of the Secret Demon Hunting Squad that her best friend coerced her into . . .
There were four Deer lying around the shed now, each at one of the four corners. The fifth was a thick-coated young one nosing around nearby. The four does raised their heads as one as we appeared.
Normally I would have been content to stop and watch them, afraid I’d spook them altogether, breaking the spell. But Phae kept up the approach, pushing Barton and navigating the bumps of the plywood path as if they weren’t there at all. Sil went for the baby, which made me give a strangled cry.
“Tch!” I sucked on my teeth. “Sil!”
Her ears pricked straight up, and she swivelled her head in my direction. Her pupils were small, and she looked entirely like the carnivore she was. The look passed. She trotted over, panting.
“I don’t need you going for the full woodland buffet, all right? A squirrel’s enough!” She had the grace to look abashed.
“I wasn’t going to eat it, you silly pup!” she barked back, as Phae dug in her pocket for the key to the shed.
“What’s with the entourage?” I whispered loudly, which made them all tilt their heads at me inquisitively, some having been nosing around in the exposed, semifrozen grass and munching away like we were no more than curious talking shrubs.
“Protection, I think,” Phae replied. “This is Geneve’s family. I think they still feel a connection to her through me. Or they’re just loyal.”
I glanced over at the grey-brown bodies, hooves tucked neatly under them, faces impassive. There was no tension for the
m here; I’d never seen a Deer so at ease around humans before. I couldn’t tell the difference between the lot of them, either, or even pick out familiar features from that day in the Assiniboine Forest when everything changed for Phae. At least they still had her back, despite the fact their grandmother had given her life to pass her power on to Phae.
“Do your parents mind?” I looked over at the big kitchen window facing the backyard. The curtains were drawn. I hadn’t seen Phae’s parents at all recently, come to think of it.
A shadow passed over Phae’s face as her long black hair fell in front of it. She finally had the key, the lock undone and hanging from the latch. But she didn’t go in.
“I think her parents are scared,” said Barton. “There usually aren’t Deer at all in this neighbourhood. But they’ve been showing up more and more every day. They just stare at the house for hours. I think it freaks them out a bit.”
“Yeah, but, I mean . . . they’re harmless unless you’re really attached to your garden . . .”
Barton frowned. “You know Mr. and Mrs. Das are deeply spiritual people, Roan. And Deer can mean a lot of things. Deception. A curse. Death.”
Well, thanks for making me look like the worst friend ever, I wanted to say, but I just looked down. I had never taken the Dases to be so devout that they’d do anything rash, or maybe see more into Phae’s new life than other parents, but I felt abashed and sorted the snow with the toe of my boot.
“Pitā tried to get rid of them one morning,” Phae said, her voice low and guarded at the mention of her father. “I had to stop him. Then more Deer came. They think I’m in danger.”
I could see the scene clearly, a standoff in the pre-dawn snow between a frightened teenager and her confused father, a small herd of Phae’s new kin watching silently. I imagined Phae’s hair climbing into sparkling blue antlers in front of her father. Had she just demonstrated Geneve’s gift, or had she done something she regretted? I wasn’t about to ask. I let the closed curtains speak for themselves.
The shed door swung inward, Barton wheeled past us. The Deer all looked up at Phae — eyes wet and questioning. I couldn’t blame the Deer for being here to protect Phae; in light of what I’d just heard, I was glad she had them. We were all in danger. It wouldn’t be long now.
Phae forced a smile. She was getting as good at it as I used to be. “My parents are just like anyone else’s right now. Everyone is afraid for their daughters now that so many of them are showing up dead on the riverbanks. I’m no redhead, but I just . . . I had to show them that they shouldn’t worry.” She looked down at her smooth hands as if they were someone else’s. “Now they don’t know what to think of me. My mom’s gone off to the West Coast for an art showing. Pitā stayed behind, but I rarely see him — he’s always taking extra call shifts. Maybe it’s better that way, for now.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until we went inside and shut the door. I pulled Phae to me. How could anyone be afraid of such a strong person? “They’re afraid because they love you.” I said the words with such force that Phae looked up at me, startled, cedar eyes clear. “You have to know that. You have to always remember that. Okay?” I had her by both shoulders now, my reassurance turning more into begging. It was all I could offer. She had joined me in this crazy mission with no thought of what it would do to her life. Barton had done the same. No. I wouldn’t let anything touch either of them.
Phae smiled, hands on mine, and I let her go.
I tried to diffuse the sombre mood. “Whew, cozy digs, Phae! Did you redecorate?” There were throws and cushions on the floor, a few space heaters humming their ancient electric spell to keep the cold out, and a single window letting in the afternoon light. I unzipped my jacket, and Barton shed his, his shirt momentarily sticking to it and riding up. The scar that the river hunters had left shone pink and white against his brown skin.
He caught me looking and grinned. “It’s okay. Makes me look tough now. Next time they won’t be so lucky.”
I smiled back. “Yeah.”
Phae was settling in on the floor, and Barton passed her his books from the basket on his wheelchair. I frowned. “The river hunters. They’ve been pretty quiet lately. No more dead girls or random attacks. It’s wishful thinking they’ve given up, but . . .”
“It’s just a clenched fist winding back for the KO.” Barton shook his head. “They might be planning something. Or their semicomatose mother is. When the Denizens tried to subdue her the first time, they were pretty much facing total decimation. She could’ve just ended it there and then. But just when Zabor was about to wipe the last of them out, a Fox came forward and made the deal with her.”
“The deal?” I looked around, suddenly remembering Sil — she was snuffling about in the shadows, just on the outskirts of our conversation. I wondered suddenly what would happen to her when Cecelia finally slipped away. Would she disappear?
I swallowed a knot in my throat. I watched the fire-coloured creature — fierce and powerful with a body of fragile bones easily crushed. I didn’t know what I’d do without Sil, though I knew exactly where I’d be. Double-dead. She was busy kneading a particularly lumpy scatter pillow, a look of amusement dancing in her golden eyes as they met mine.
“It’s always a Fox,” she said, “trying to talk the world out of ending.”
I twisted towards Barton. “Think I can talk Zabor out of killing everything inside the Perimeter Highway?”
He rolled his eyes. I turned back to Sil. “Didn’t think so. So what were the details of this deal. Any loopholes?”
“It was made so Zabor would stop her rampage, and in fact protect the people of the Red River Valley from the flood waters. But in exchange for sparing them, each year she wanted the blood of the Denizens’ children. One a year. Sometimes more. She’s powerful and fickle and has the upper hand. She made this the stipulation so that the Denizens would always be reminded of their shame. Reminded that they couldn’t stop her.” Barton grew quiet then and looked down at his jeans pinned back at the knee. His own reminder that some Denizens weren’t prepared to give their children up. But there were dozens more who felt they had no choice.
I hadn’t heard Phae move across the tiny shed to Barton, but there she was, sleek as a shadow and suddenly kneeling in front of him, face frank and stern as ever. But the edges of it softened, and her hair began to move of its own accord, climbing her head and twining in a pronged, delicate dance. Blue static weaved in and out of the strands, but she did not touch Barton. Her body was stiff with the powerless desire to heal what couldn’t be healed. So she laid her head upon his legs, knowing that touching him would do no more good than she’d already tried.
“We’ll find a way.” She spoke with clear determination.
I looked away. My chest got tight again, and my exhausted eyes darted to Sil. There was pity in her stare as her ears flicked.
“There’s always a way,” she said.
*
“. . . So, that led me to wonder, since Geneve passed her power on to me, maybe another Rabbit could give their power to Barton.”
It was just after sunset as we made our way back from Phae’s, the powdery fingers of dusk streaking everything with colour. The street lights had come on well before sunset, and the wind kicked snow up in their halos. The three of us had clung together as long as we could throughout the day, but I couldn’t stay away from Cecelia’s place forever. As much as I wanted to. Deedee’s worry-texts were blowing up my phone, and not in a pop-song way.
“I dunno, that Deer had to sort of, um, die for that to go through. Right?” I looked to Sil for reassurance. She was trotting openly beside us as we made our way up the Osborne Bridge and to my bus stop. I’d had to retire my bike after my ill-fated encounter with Arnas. I dared any of the curious passersby to make a comment as I walked stiffly beside her, but we were met with stares and the occasional tripping
sidestep as people tried to avoid her. God, what is it going to take to show everyone in this city there is something weird going on right in front of them?
No one volunteered to answer my question about the open possibility of sacrificing some hapless flufftail, taking his powers, and letting Barton devour them, tribal-heart-eating-ritual style. We may have been moonlighting as a fringe secret society, but we weren’t at the sacrificing part just yet.
Sil stopped just as we passed the Roslyn building and the bridge started over the river. Her nose was in the air, seeking.
“What’s wrong?” I hissed. We were leading the pack with Phae and Barton a bit behind us; I’d wanted to give them some space. I hadn’t wanted to so blatantly walk over the river that wanted to eat me, but there was no way around that in this city.
“I can’t tell,” Sil murmured, still sniffing as we came to the middle of the bridge, the Assiniboine as still as death underneath us.
The Manitoba Legislature loomed nearby, and I’d fixed my gaze on it just as Sil barked “Wait!” and I lurched to a stop, looking around. Phae and Barton came up short behind us as I wheeled my bag around, grabbing the hilt of the garnet blade. I didn’t draw it yet — not with a crowd on all sides.
“What is it?” Barton asked in a tight tone, as though the wrong words would set off a bomb.
The street lights flickered above us. I was the first to see it, even though I didn’t know I had. A black shape parted from the sky above the dome of the legislative building, heading straight for us with grim intent. It banked towards the river, momentarily vanishing in the darkened treeline. “What —” I muttered, but Sil snarled, “Owl!” just as a torrent of screeching wings barrelled into me, sending me flying from the sidewalk and smashing into the concrete partition just separating the bridge’s north- and southbound lanes.
Breath knocked out of me and head ringing, I summoned enough sense to get out of the road and scramble onto the partition just as a sedan swerved to avoid me. The slick roads didn’t work in the driver’s favour, sending him careening into a van that braked hard and swung straight for Phae and Barton.