"Come to me," he called. Marie's bare feet stung from the sand as she made her way down to the stage. The man on the stage turned in a circle and howled at the high moon. At the edge of the stage, Marie stopped.
"Why do you wait there?" he asked. "Don't you wish to set your lover free?"
"I do," she said. "But I will not come up on your stage and be your pawn. You come down to me."
"Oh, the princess demands. I will do as she commands because it does not matter, on the stage or off, I can do all things I wish."
He leapt off the stage and landed in the front row. "Come, come now. I offer you the first chance to stand against me."
"Kevin," she called her husband's name. The man tut-tutted at her.
"He cannot hear you and even if he could, all he can do is scream."
At that, a scream tore the air as if the theater itself were in pain. Marie looked around for the mouth it issued from.
"Does it bring you joy to hear him?" the Jester asked. His robes swirled about him as he capered in a circle. "I can make it come again."
"Stop," Marie said. "Tell me how to set him free."
"You will never set him free. You aren't strong enough. Nor are you strong enough to fight my lord. You cannot win."
"I have already won against the others."
"The others are weak. Their flaws obvious. You will not win so easily against me."
Marie walked close enough to put her hands on him, he did not draw back.
"I know your weakness."
Face to face, she could see every line in his countenance. Deep sunk, kohl rimmed eyes sat heavy over a mouth in permanent sneer. He reacted with no surprise, but seemed to draw himself up to tower over her. Marie refused to be daunted.
"So what is it?" he asked after several minutes of silence.
"You need an audience," she whispered.
"Oh?"
"Yes. You can't do anything without an audience to applaud you. So where is your audience?" she asked.
"I have them right where I want them," he said and with a gesture the seats of the amphitheater filled with bodies, but there were like the bodies from under the castle, dead in their seats.
"This is no audience," Marie said. "How can they applaud you if they're dead?"
"So demanding, Princess," he snapped.
"Yes, I demand that you produce an audience."
He whirled and the room changed, but there were still bodies in the seats.
"Not good enough."
With a growl, he tried again, but nothing changed.
"You can't do it, can you?" she taunted.
The veins in his forehead stood out and his mouth stretched into a frown of Olympic proportions. Yet the bodies only shifted in the seats to lean in different directions. Their stab wounds still stood out like open mouths. Marie covered her ears as a new scream split the air. Then silence. The bodies disappeared into dust. The Jester stood there, shoulders slumped.
"Give me Kevin back," Marie said.
"No."
"You've lost."
"I refuse."
"You can't refuse. You lost."
"Of course, I can refuse. You don't command me."
"But I do. I am the Princess. You yourself said so."
He opened his mouth to say something else but no rejoinder came out. She put her hand on his chest and tapped her fingers on the fabric.
"Give up."
His chin slid to his chest and he looked into her eyes.
"I yield."
At his forehead, a light appeared forming into a small ball which then jumped down into her bracelet. All three crystals shone with their interior light, gray, red, and gold. Suddenly, Kevin's body collapsed. Marie scrambled to catch him and ease him to the floor of the amphitheater. She laid him there in the dust which now seemed thicker. It stirred around her feet and she nearly sneezed from it. Marie pressed a kiss to Kevin's lips and marveled at how peaceful he looked for someone who had just been released from an evil spell. The only one she hadn't seen was Ray, but she had every belief he was fine where she left him. It was time to face the creature she created.
CHAPTER FORTY
Leaving the amphitheater, Marie thought of the others released from the dark spells they were under. Could it be said that she too was under a spell? Wasn't the Dark King her spell? The more she went through, the more she wondered that? She created him. She remembered him no, her abandoned brother.
She remembered how the sunlight had streamed in the window the day he came to be. She stood before the mirror in her bedroom, her Sunday dress pressed and beautiful. Her parents sat at the dining room table doing adult things. She saw them there only moments ago. Adult things meant she couldn't interrupt. They wouldn't come to a tea party with her and Paul the panda. She looked at Paul sitting there in his little tuxedo with his lopsided monocle. Going to the panda, she gathered him up in her arms and came back to the mirror.
"I don't want to be alone," she said. For a child, she tended toward sounding adult herself. An old soul in a new form. "Come play with me?" she asked the person in the mirror. Then she turned away to sit at the table. In the mirror, her form stayed and changed. It became a little boy with hair like hers, but instead of pretty ribbons, it was held by black ties. He joined in with the tea party by sitting at the table in the mirror. His name was Sabran. They ruled a world together as a pair of heirs. Kelvan, a realm of beauty and peace with the two of them together. How he had become the Dark King she wasn't quite sure, only she knew him now. Abandoned by her and warped by his losses.
Marie found herself standing before the last of the flowers. It rose above her with a trunk thicker than her torso. The bloody red flowers hung on long stalks through green leaves. Marie put her hand on it and felt it begin to soften under her touch. The trunk twisted in on itself and shriveled. Blooms rained down on her. Beyond the door, something slammed into them. Marie's fear was not for herself, but for what would happen once she opened the door. She was the princess, but she was broken no longer. This was her palace, her home. She created it and peopled it. He could do nothing without her. Too long she had let him run wild unchecked. Now she would bring him to heel. The towering flower fell to one side with a thud and she pressed her hand over the handle of the door. With effort, she yanked it open. On the other side, the room lay in darkness. She strode in and threw her hands to the side. On either side of the room, lights flamed. The lamps glowed bright. In the center of the room, a chandelier composed of long tallow candles flickered to life. Everywhere was light. It left him nowhere to hide. Marie stopped and waited for him to come. He came from the shadows, sidling into the room and passed around her. The shade he had become stood beneath the chandelier and brought his hands together as if to pray.
"Sabran?" she asked.
"You remember me."
"Yes."
"Then you know why things have come this way." He stalked toward her. Marie took a defensive stance, her hands out before her. His first strike passed to her right as she shifted. Then he threw a punch to her left. She blocked him. The bracelet sang around her wrist.
"I have brought you back to yourself," she said. The crystals flared and detached from their golden prison. The three lights circled around her and then divided into two each. They flew in circles around the two of them, twining in intricate patterns before the two sets settled on each of them. The man who had been a shade took on color and the Marie's clothing changed. Now she danced in robes decorated with long flowers. Her feet were clad in slippers. Her hair piled up on her hair and a circlet appeared at her forehead. Across from her, a young man stood tall in his own slippers and a robe thrown open at his throat. His circlet held a teardrop. At his side, a scimitar hung.
"We are as we were."
"We can never be as we were," he said and dashed at her. He drew his scimitar as he moved chopping the air to her right then slashing across the air before her body. Marie dropped back and wished for a weapon, but none appeared. She barely
stayed ahead of the attacks he threw.
"Please," she cried.
"You do not deserve the life you denied me," he said as he pressed the attack. His sword went through her robe, slicing a long ribbon out of it. Marie whirled away and then threw herself forward. He leapt back, weaving the scimitar in front of him.
"Sabran, can we not be healed?"
"I will never forgive you for what you have made me. You who brought me to life then threw me to the wolves. You took away all that I had."
"And I can give it all back to you."
That seemed to give him some pause as he slowed. Marie dropped her hands.
"I can give you back all that you have lost."
"You write a story in which I will be defeated."
"To lose as the Dark King is not to die," she said.
"Speak plainly."
"I write your story. You have been dismembered, but you could be made whole again. If I make you whole again and return your sister to you, all will be healed. That should be enough."
"You will do this for me?" He tested the edge of his scimitar with his thumb and she saw the way the blood stood against the polish.
"Let me and mine go and I will do all of that for you and more."
Inside she felt the warmth of the others as they awaited the outcome of her battle. Now she bargained; she did not battle. Perhaps this was better. She could no more kill them than kill herself. While he may have been nothing without her, she knew her world would be less rich without him.
Her greatest creation.
Her brother.
"Sabran," she said. "I love you. I am sorry I forgot you."
"You did not forget. You abandoned me to a dark and twisted place." His passion drew on his throat forcing his voice to deepen with emotion. "And you have profited from it."
"I have and for that, I am sorry. Forgive me."
"I cannot forgive you but you can make amends."
He ran the scimitar through his belt and crossed his arms over his chest. "What will you do for me?"
"You will be made whole again and freed from your imprisonment."
"And my retainers?"
"They will be freed as well once they are cleansed of the dark influence."
"I will have my beloved once more?"
"Yes. I will return her to you, but only once she is free of the darkness."
He mulled this, though a smile already played at the edge of his lips. He would agree. How could he not?
"And my sister, what will happen to you?"
"I will return to my life," she said. "I have no place here."
"This is your place. We created it together."
"No. I have a home and a family that awaits me. I will return to them and be made whole as well."
This caused a darkening of his brow like rising thunderclouds, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned to the thrones at the far edge of the room.
"Will you join me then, this last time?"
The thrones seemed so far away, but Marie knew to reach them would take no time. This world had awaited her for years. It welcomed her return. She took his hand when he offered it and they walked across the room together. As they went, stamping began. Cheers rose in the room from ghosts and shades, the people becoming solid as they went. By the time they reached the thrones, everyone had gathered. At the head of the procession stood Saba with Djinn, the Jester and Sabran's chief adviser. Further to the back, Khajir stood proud. So many faces. Marie blinked. They all blurred together. The dream became insubstantial, the edges fuzzy. She could no longer feel Sabran's hand in her own. She groped for him in the haze that surrounded her.
"Sabran?" she called. "Brother."
"Wake up," someone said. In her ears, that voice was music. She opened her eyes. Kevin knelt next to her, the makeup of his profession still on. She reached out to touch his face and he stopped her hand.
"You'll get makeup on you," he said.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Nursing a headache and a sore throat, but otherwise fine. I worried about you. You dreamed so deeply."
"I set the world right. We are free."
Kevin looked doubtful. Then he stole a kiss, leaving some of his lipstick on her.
"I couldn't resist."
They shared a smile then Naomie came in. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched the two of them. Marie levered herself off the floor and went to her.
"Are you alright?"
"I have to contact the hospital. I don't know what's happened to Ray."
Knowing he had been alright in her dream, Marie felt he should have been fine, but she didn't say that. Dreams were funny fickle things. They could tell the future or hide it.
"Call them," Marie urged. "Maybe he's fine."
"You don't get to be fine after falling off a building."
Marie hugged her friend. Things had been so dire. The release of the tension was a relief. She turned to her husband who had also gotten off the floor.
"Go wash that off. You look like you slept in it."
"Yes, ma'am." He mock saluted her and squeezed by to go into the bathroom. It would take half an hour to get all that off.
"Do you want me to come with you while you make the call?"
"No, I'll be okay." Naomie sniffled and tears stood at the edges of her eyes. Marie hugged her again and held on until the first sob racked Naomie's body. Then she hugged her tighter.
"I just..."
"Don't. It's okay. We'll go in the living room and I'll call the hospital. You just rest. Today has been hard." She guided Naomie in the direction of the living room and sat her down on the sofa before picking up her phone. She had to look up the hospital's number but a few minutes later she was listening to some fairly pleasant muzak while she waited for someone there to pick up.
"Lady of Grace Medical," a chirpy voice said.
"Hello, I'm calling about a patient in ICU."
"Let me transfer you."
More muzak. More waiting.
"Lady of Grace ICU."
"Hi. I'm calling about Raymond Vargas."
"Are you friends or family?"
The question got a touch of hesitation, then Marie pushed through. Family. Ray was her family.
"Family."
The woman on the other end of the line took a breath before she said,
"I'm very sorry to have to say, but Raymond Vargas passed away this evening. His injuries were too severe."
Marie swallowed past a growing lump in her throat and looked at Naomie who was studying the carpet with her face between her hands.
"Thank you," Marie said. "I appreciate that." She hung up.
Naomie didn't look at her.
"He's dead," Naomie said.
Marie changed chairs to sit next to her friend and offer her shoulder, but even as she held her, she had to think about how lucky she had been. Kevin was alive. Her life, in shambles, could be rebuilt. Naomie, the thought stopped her. What did Naomie have? Marie rested her head against Naomie's neck and listened to her sob. She had her.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Marie looked away from the unrelieved black and concentrated on the beautiful flower arrangements. The memorial service had been an understated event. Rebecca had been quiet in most of her private affairs. Her family chose to keep it to close friends and relatives only. The casket lay closed in the church. From what she knew, Rebecca died by burning and had to be identified by dental records. No one wanted that to be the last memory they had of her. Instead, a poster sized print of an old glamour shot rested on an easel near the casket. Near it, several wreathes stood. There Marie concentrated her attention. Beside her, Kevin held her hand. Naomie was nearby talking to one of Rebecca's sisters. She had three, each with similar shocking red hair.
"I think I'm ready to go."
"Are you sure?" A hand on her arm accompanied Kevin's question. Marie shook her head.
"I can't stand here anymore and pretend like things are alright."
He k
issed the side of her face.
"Then I suppose we should go. Do you want to say goodbye to Naomie?"
"No, she'll understand."
Outside the church, several small groups gathered. They weaved between them heading for the parking lot. Detective Placard waved at them from next to their car. He smiled, it made Marie uneasy.
"Detective," Kevin said offering the man his hand which the detective didn't take. "Good to see you. I'm sorry about the circumstances."
"You, Mr. Ellis, are a very lucky man."
"Why do you say that?"
"Despite what you did, you're going to go free."
"And what exactly did he do?" Marie asked.
"You killed that woman and now you're going to get away with it."
"I didn't kill anyone. You suspect I did, but I didn't."
"I suppose it doesn't matter. I can't prove it. The only thing tying you to the case is the box and you listed it stolen ahead of time. Crafty."
"No," Marie said moving between the detective and her husband. "Truthful. Why don't you go harass someone else?"
"I surprised you're willing to stick up for him."
"He's my husband and he's telling the truth, so I'm not."
The portly detective looked at both of them with steady critical eyes.
"I'll be in touch."
"Next time you want to talk, do it through our lawyer," Marie said.
Kevin looked down at her as he fumbled with the keys for the car.
"What?" she asked.
"You," he said. "There's something different about you and I think I like it."
She play punched him in the arm.
"Open the door and let's go."
"Yes, ma'am."
Dear Reader
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Dark King Rising Page 27