Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3)

by Ponce, Jen

  I shook my head. “No.” If I had to do some killing, I didn’t want him to see me do it, didn’t want to taint his perception of me, stupid as that was.

  “Be careful,” he said, the memory dancing on his lips as he smiled.

  “Be careful,” I returned, and then I hooked away.

  ***

  The city wasn’t asleep. Perhaps it was the power thrumming through the Omphalos. I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I’d been here at night before. People chattered and danced, walking to and fro in the big square before the Council Hall.

  I couldn’t get anywhere near it, though I’d tried hooking inside. Even on foot, I couldn’t get in. I wasn’t even sure how to get anyone’s attention in there. So I stopped the first person I saw and asked. “How do I get an audience with the Council?”

  She looked at me like I was tetched in the head. “Just go in.”

  “I can’t.” I nudged a toe at the protection barrier and it sparked.

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t hurt me!” She shrank back, almost tripping in her haste to get away.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want—” A poster fluttered on a pole to my left. I stomped over and ripped it down. My face, badly drawn, and a warning that I was dangerous. Eager to kill. Power mad. “Assholes!” I ripped the paper into tiny bits and whirled on the Council building. “Give me back my daughter or I will tear your city apart brick by brick!”

  More people scattered, and the festive atmosphere died. I yanked Skriven power, more and more, and concentrated all of it on the invisible dome in front of me. The magic thundered and roared ... and did absolutely nothing but cause a fireworks display of sparks to shower me. “Give me my daughter!”

  From the building, a tall, slender form walked. The Anforsa, looking smug as she strolled toward me. “I must thank you for healing the Omphalos. We never would have kept you out otherwise.”

  “Give me my daughter.”

  “What makes you think we have her?”

  I stalked as close as I dared to the protection bubble. “Arsinua brought her here.”

  “Wasn’t she someone you considered friend? Shame.”

  I held up my palm where the flame had settled. “I am a member of the Meat Clan. My mother was Raven Clan and my father was a witch. I don’t need to register. I’m Midian.”

  Her lips twitched, her nostrils flared. She gave me one of those raking looks that assessed and dismissed me in one sweep. “We do not recognize Wydlings as citizens. And now that the Omphalos is at full power, we can enforce our borders with impunity.”

  “You bitch.”

  “Call me what you like. You will never gain entrance to the Council Hall again.”

  “Give me my daughter and I will gladly stay away.”

  She sneered. “Your daughter is not here. She wouldn’t be welcome anyway, not with you as a mother.”

  Terror, sharp and all-consuming, filled me. I’d been so sure Bethany was here, I hadn’t considered anything else. And if she wasn’t here, then where the hell had Arsinua taken her? Without saying another word, I hooked to Marantha’s house, needing answers, unsure of where else to turn to find them.

  She jumped a bit when I appeared near her table but otherwise did nothing but make a gesture that shut all her curtains. “I was hoping you’d come here next.”

  “Arsinua took my daughter.”

  She nodded and reached into the drawer of the table beside her couch. The paper was covered in writing and I sat, my knees weak as I took it.

  Devany,

  You are certainly angry with me and I don’t blame you. I can only beg you for understanding. Your daughter’s magic has grown exponentially stronger in the few days we’ve been actively practicing. Her accident almost killed your father. He’s strong and she knocked him out without much effort.

  Her power, Devany, is strong like yours, but with a child’s sense of control. I had to take her before she hurt your father or her brother. I did not come to this decision lightly. I knew if I took this action you would probably never forgive me. I can only hope that you understand why I did what I did. I didn’t want your daughter to live with the agony of taking another person’s life. I didn’t want her to lose control and become someone she despised. Mostly, I didn’t want her to attract the wrong kind of attention.

  Yesterday I caught sight of one of the Anforsa’s enforcers. They were watching the house and I knew it was only a matter of time before they took her. I couldn’t tell you. You are doing what you must to keep things in balance.

  Please forgive me.

  Please don’t follow us. I’ll send you word when Bethany has gotten control of her—

  I wrinkled up the paper and breathed deeply in order not to flip out. When I thought I could speak without yelling, I asked, “Where is she?”

  Marantha shook her head. “I don’t know.” She lifted her hair and turned her head. A dark, purple bruise stained her cheek and jaw.

  “She hit you?”

  “I tried to stop her. Told her it was madness what she was doing. She hit me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want your daughter to see such violence.”

  Was it wrong of me to search her face, looking for prevarication? “Where would she go? Does she have family around? Friends?” She’d worked with the Coven of the Lotus once upon a time. I would check with them to see what they had to say about her.

  “She’s always been a loner, that one. Dedicated to the cause. She spoke once of a sister but that was long ago and I didn’t hear anything about her. I never even knew her name.”

  “She took my daughter. We can never be friends after this.” Hard to be friends with a dead person, after all.

  Marantha walked over and sat beside me. “I told her that. She was scared, Devany. Terrified, though she wouldn’t tell me why. She only kept saying she had to get Bethany somewhere safe.”

  “She was scared of me. I lost my soul and was an Originator in truth.” I turned my palms up in my lap, seeing the glow under my skin. “And all I want to do right now is find her and hurt her for taking Bethany from me. Maybe she has every right to be scared.”

  Marantha traced the fire in my palm with her finger. “That could be what she was afraid of, but I don’t think so. It was something else, something bigger.”

  “I don’t need anything else to worry about, Marantha. I just need all this to end. My kids with me, safe.” Tears fell and Marantha pulled me into her warmth. “Everything is falling apart.”

  She didn’t speak, just held me while I cried. I hadn’t realized how much rage and pain had been stoppered up inside me. I’d been stuffing it and stuffing it down so I could keep on keeping on.

  “I need to let all of this go and find a safe place to live, some place safe.”

  “As long as these things are happening, the stolen humans, the fighting between witch and Wydling, there will not be a safe place to live.” She squeezed me and then helped me sit up, dabbing at my cheeks with the soft material of her long, belled sleeves. “You’ve been changing things. Sparking little revolutions everywhere. Along the borders, people are fighting back against the slavers. Witches are asking for help from Wydlings. Here, even, people are whispering, wondering why the Council should have the right to take away people’s magic. Things are happening and we have you to thank.”

  I didn’t want thanks. I didn’t want to foment rebellion. I didn’t want to change things. I wanted people to be kind to each other and not harm innocents. Was it so much to ask? Couldn’t we stop lumping people into groups and then hating them for their perceived otherness?

  “If you see her, if she makes any contact with you at all—”

  “I’ll let you know right away. I promise.”

  I thanked her and we said our goodbyes.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Dad?”

  He sat in the dark in the living room, a bag of frozen corn pressed to his head. “Did you find our girl?”

  I sat down beside him on the couch, the tears fal
ling again. “I don’t know where Arsinua went. She’s running from the Anforsa and me.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “How? Marantha says she has a sister but she didn’t even know what her name was. And Liam ...” I wiped the tears away. “He’s with the goddess. She has to pull the Rider out slowly or she risks—” I couldn’t finish. I curled against my dad, who hugged me tight. “This is punishment, isn’t it? For doing the things I’ve done.”

  “No. Baby, no. Please don’t think that way. It won’t get you anywhere and it’s just not true. There isn’t any divine hand doling out punishment based on your deeds. You know why this is happening? Because you’re doing something. You’re not staying quietly in your house hoping the bad stuff will pass you by. When you stick your neck out, you risk getting hurt. This isn’t judgment; it’s a result of action.”

  “My kids shouldn’t get punished for my actions, though, Dad.”

  “Your kids are learning that good can’t be won through ignoring the bad.”

  Cheeseweed meowed and I bent to scoop her up, cuddling her under my chin as she purred. “I don’t know what I’d do if one of them got hurt or worse ...”

  “They are good, strong kids, sweetheart.”

  “I know.” A breath shuddered through me. “I don’t know if I’m a good, strong person.”

  “Sure you know. Good, strong people screw up, take hits on the chin, fall down, make horrible mistakes and sometimes hurt people, but they always get up to try again. They strive. They have gumption. You have gumption.”

  Whether it was my dad’s words, Cheeseweed’s soft, fluffy kitty fur, or both, but the shadows squatting over my head lessened. I could see the tiniest glimmer of hope on the horizon.

  My dad continued, “You have me. You have your brother. That man of yours I’d like to meet when I’m not passed out cold. This Marantha lady. Zech? His lady friend? You have a lot going for you, kiddo. We’ll get Bethany back. We’ll get Liam safe. And then we’ll figure out how to save the world.”

  I wanted to protest, to say I didn’t want to save the world at all. It was too big and too screwed up and I had no idea where to start. Then his words floated back up in my mind. “Good can’t be won through ignoring the bad.”

  Even if I found my kids, I couldn’t go back to being the lady I was before that fateful explosion at the Bazaar. I had power; I had to use it to make things better, even if I some times made mistakes.

  A shiver went through me. I sat up. “Dad? I think I know who the host is.”

  He smiled at me. “See? I knew you’d figure things out. What are you going to do about it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. According to the dream I had, according to everything I’ve learned, I have to kill the host to stop the spread of infection. If the host is who I think she is ...” Tears threatened but I stood, blinking them away. “I’m going now, before I talk myself out of it. Wish me luck.”

  “All the luck in the world, baby girl.”

  ***

  I hooked to the Carnicus, my mind conflicted, my stomach in knots. They had traveled across the Wilds to a small town on the border I’d never been to before. There weren’t any protection domes over the houses like there were in Banishwinds. The streets were dirt and the buildings clapboard, and had I seen a horse tied to a hitching post, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  The Carnicus wagons were circled up on the south side of town, just on the other side of the poles used by the witches to keep out the wild magic. The barrier was up but there wasn’t anyone enforcing travel across it, probably because there were so few people in town to begin with, they had other things to worry them besides unauthorized visitors.

  Zed stopped me before I got close. “I know why you’re here.”

  He’d been nice to me when we’d traveled with the Carnicus, though my trip through time hadn’t allowed me to reacquaint myself with him again. Since I wasn’t sure what to say, I kept silent, hoping I wouldn’t have to fight him.

  “She knows it too. Knew you’d be back after you killed Leon.”

  “Listen, I--”

  He held up his hand. “It had to be done. I’m glad it was done and she didn’t have to do it. You took that burden from her and for that I thank you.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Leon said it was his idea to infect her.”

  A fierce joy rose in me and I was glad all over again that I’d killed him.

  “But,” Zed went on, “I don’t think it really was. We were traveling close to the Wastes anyway, pushing our luck. He kept going off by himself for days at a time and when he’d come back, he’d be all cheerful. I think he was meeting up with somebody and whoever it was put the idea in his head. I think someone brought that infection and used Leon to get it started. You understand what I’m saying?”

  I did. “Who would want to inflict a parasite on their own world? Especially one that could travel through Dreams?”

  He stared at me, waiting.

  It didn’t take me long. “The witches can’t be infected because of the Omphalos, right? So the only people who would suffer would be Wydlings and those who Dream. Bastards.”

  “It was witches. I don’t know who because Leon didn’t have friends and people could tell, meeting up with him, that he was wrong somehow. Whoever sought him out did it because he was crazy and they knew it. Wanted to use it. And they sought him out because he hated duallies and they knew he could Dream, his sister too.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  He shrugged. “Any of them witches that hate duallies and there’s a bunch of them. Take your pick.”

  I shook my head. “And we’ll never know because I killed him.”

  “He never would have told you anything anyway. He liked secrets.”

  “Would he have shared it with Sharps?”

  Zed shook his head. “I don’t believe so. She was good enough to infect, but not good enough to confide in.”

  Bastard, I said again in my head.

  “She’s in her wagon. Waiting on you.”

  Guilt suffused me. “I’m sorry.”

  “If you can save her, please try. That little girl’s been through enough.”

  I nodded and made my way to the golden wagon in the middle of the circled train. I didn’t want to knock but finally forced myself to raise my hand and rap.

  “Come in.”

  Her little girl’s voice made me hesitate. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t kill a kid. I couldn’t.

  But Liam. Kroshtuka. Hell, everyone in the Wilds.

  I went in.

  Sharps sat curled up on a small bench seat, staring out the window by her elbow. She didn’t speak as I came in and said nothing as I sat opposite her. Her hair was a tangled mess, dirty blond rats hanging on her head. Her shirt was filthy and her hands were rust brown. Had she not washed her hands since taking Leon’s heart from me?

  “Sharps, I--”

  “I don’t hate you. Not all of me.”

  The Dream swam up to greet me, the one she’d hijacked, apparently. “I didn’t think you did.”

  “It’s why you killed Leon and not me, isn’t it? His hate was easy to see, easy to understand. Mine? Not so much.” Her slender fingers picked at a hole in her pants, teasing it open, wider. “You didn’t do anything to me but offer to help. And then there was your son.” Her eyes flicked to mine, deep black bruises staining her cheeks. “He was so nice, so normal. Funny. You never beat him or made him play games with you that ended up with you both naked.”

  I didn’t want to hear but I couldn’t stop her from telling me; she’d gone through so much, I couldn’t not accept the burden of the telling.

  “Leon gave me the parasite and forced it in my mouth. I had to swallow it or die. I almost died. Maybe I should have but I couldn’t kill my family. Quorra. Alton. Inna. Zed. So I took it and he preached hate for you day in, day out until a piece of me did hate you.”

  “Sharps, I’m not mad at you for hating me. It’
s okay.”

  “A piece of me hates you and when you see him, you’ll hate me too.”

  I shook my head, but she kept talking.

  “I knew when you killed Leon you’d be back. I knew you would have to kill the host. So I made him, and I pushed the parasite into him, because that’s my magic, making pieces of me real. The parasite has to cling to hate. I knew when I created the part of me that hates you, that the parasite would have to stay with it and it did.” Her voice rose, her eyes bright, tears pooling on the rim of her lower lids, magnifying the tiny lashes there. “You’ll see him and you’ll hate me because you’ll have to kill him.”

  Her terror and horror affected me; my heart sped, my stomach roiled. “Sharps, it will be okay. Whatever you did, it will be okay.”

  She shook her head and bolted out the door. I followed, calling out for her and stopped abruptly.

  She stood trembling by Liam, or someone who looked so much like my little boy I wasn’t able to tell the difference.

  I gulped in a shuddery breath.”You aren’t my son.”

  “Mom?” It was so much Liam’s voice, the slight warble tugging hard at the strings cutting through my heart. “What’s going on?”

  My body was cold. I wished, fervently, that I was still lacking my soul. This wouldn’t have hurt so badly without it. I also wished I had someone here with me to help me do what I had to do. I stepped toward the boy who wasn’t my Liam. My Liam, I assured myself, was in the arms of a goddess and safe from this tragedy. My Liam was not here. This was a poisonous vessel meant to hurt me.

  Oh god it hurt.

  He didn’t run away, of course not. Liam wouldn’t.

  How would I kill him? Snap his neck like I had Ravana’s? I put my hands on either side of his face and he tipped his head up to gaze at me with his big eyes and I couldn’t do it. I knew it wasn’t my boy, in my head I knew it, and yet my heart screamed, “No!”

  “Mom? Are you okay?”

  “Stop talking,” I said. My voice cracked.

  I needed help. But I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this nightmare.