by Sara Hanover
I fought back. I wasn’t alone, loved ones and friends surrounded me. My moments of ridicule lay years behind me—and what teenager hadn’t felt some despair? Only one person, my father, had left me willingly. I straightened my spine and stared back at the beautiful creature in front of me. His eyes held depths of vast experience, but I saw no love, no mercy in them. No humanity. I turned aside his compulsion and waited for him to answer. If he thought I would throw myself at him, bitten or not, he was greatly mistaken.
Nicolo’s lip curled a bit. “Indeed. Why not call out parlay like one of your myths and see if we can negotiate?”
“I am serious. I won’t give up the maelstrom without compensation.”
“I won’t entertain your offer. I can kill you on the spot—or have you killed—and the stone will be mine.”
“No, it won’t. It will go to where it wills. I can hand it to you, and you can hope you can keep ahold of it, or you will lose it if you slaughter me.” I willed conviction into every word.
Nicolo’s mouth twitched. He took a step to one side and looked at me from a slightly different angle. “Bold if foolish.”
“I have what you want. The advantage is mine.”
“Careful,” my father cautioned.
From what had happened to him, and to me, it seemed the stone had a mind of its own and would be possessed by the person it chose, not the other way around. But then, that was just two examples. I could be wrong. I desperately hoped I wasn’t.
I waved my hand slightly, palm outward, flashing the stone at Nicolo. His desire for it gleamed deep in his eyes. I had him. We had him. But did we have a deal of any kind?
He straightened. “Your life and the lives of your friends here, for the stone. That is the best I intend to offer.”
“Malender is among my friends.”
A twitch of one cheek. “Very well.”
I heard the whip snap behind me, a minor undulation, expressing Malender’s distaste for the proceedings.
Nicolo bowed slightly at the waist, bending toward me. “I will warn you. If anything happens to me, the will that holds all these beings in check, disappears. Chaos will descend upon you. They will go into a blood frenzy if I do not hold them back.”
Oh, that didn’t sound good at all. I had been afraid since I entered the Butchery and found, to my surprise, that I could be terrified still further. My bones ached with it.
“He’s bluffing,” my father responded.
But was he?
I dipped my right hand into my jacket inner pocket and shoved myself to my feet. Remy swung about on me, mouth open, canines glittering, jaws snapping. I pushed a flash-bang into her teeth as she came at my throat, teeth clicking together. Her savage attempt to bite me shattered the weapon. I ducked away just as it exploded. Remy’s loveliness detonated all over me and Nicolo, a gory, slimy, crimson mess. The rest of her body fell with a resounding thud. I drew the back of my wrist over my eyes to clear them.
“I won’t be messed with.”
Nicolo didn’t move for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a large, white silken handkerchief and cleaned his face off before dropping the sodden fabric to the sawdust and floor. Then he smiled. “You will take her place if our deal falters.”
He thought he had me. Perhaps he did. I could feel the wrappings of magic, old and new, extremely powerful as it clung to him, armor that I did not think the four of us could penetrate even if we all hit him at once.
My father told me, “I’ve got this.”
It was a gamble. We both knew it. And the high of the prospect of winning or losing gripped him tightly. It always had and always would, even now. I could feel the hum of tension in the two of us.
“Pluck it out.”
I picked at the maelstrom stone, and it gave. Not easily. I felt a wrenching that went deep, deep inside me as if I tried to turn myself inside out, like nothing I had ever felt before from it, as though I betrayed it. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever endured, physically and emotionally. It questioned why I wanted it gone, the bond we had, all of it, all the partnership of magic that we had ever worked together and I simply told it that it was time. In turn, it gave way, accepting that I knew it had to go. Spasms ran the length of my body and then, suddenly, stopped. It agreed to leave me, this time. Why, I could not know, not for sure. I remembered a dream from not all that long ago, but long enough that my magical experiences had exploded exponentially since. In that dream world, Malender had stood next to me in a meadow, taking the stone from me, saying, “This is the way the world ends.”
A prophetic warning. I took a deep breath, praying he would be wrong, and freed the stone entirely. I held it up to give Nicolo.
He reached for it, lightning-quick vampire reflexes that I anticipated. Our hands coupled, the stone between them, neither one of us owning it, the two of us sharing it.
That’s when my father struck.
It felt like a bomb going off.
I went blind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MISCALCULATIONS
NICOLO LET OUT a roar. It shattered through my skull, a pounding sound of triumph. Then he closed in on us, my Sight flashed back, the Master Vampire nose to nose with us. He screamed inside my skull. “No, my puppet, you haven’t got me! I made you a mage, and you wasted it. Lost your way. Lost our destiny. Could have been more if you wished, in my dominion, but no. You gambled it away with every decision you made, and now you are mine, and the stone is mine!”
He heard my father through the stone. Our advantage of surprise, spent. Our attack, thwarted. He had magic, yes, but he had a force of will he’d built up over years and years of rule, and one, no two, mortals could not hope to penetrate that.
My pulse roared in my ears, and I dropped to my knees again, still holding onto Nicolo’s ice-cold hand and my maelstrom stone. I saw nothing different in the wrappings of magic crowded about him. Did it work? Could it work?
My father cried inside my head. I thought it might be for me and realized that it wasn’t as he crooned in despair, “Not enough, not enough!”
I wouldn’t let it end this way. I couldn’t. My father, my friends, all ringing me, all in death’s way. The stone still drew from me. This was the moment in which I had to double down or lose everything as my father had. I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t. I reached inside and found that golden spark buried deep inside me, the love and care that had been gifted, Carter’s sunlight, and I brought it up. Lit myself from inside out, built a roaring fire out of it, let it sear me until I wanted to scream from its perfect agony—and I released it.
The stone vibrated in my hand. Grew warm and then hot as my energy poured into it. Nicolo tried to turn it aside, that beam of hope and light. I could hear his skin sizzle as he refused to drop the stone. And I still had one hand free.
I fetched out the nullifier, that near forgotten relic, from my pants’ pocket and jammed it against Nicolo’s trousered leg. If there had ever been a more appropriate time to use it, it came now. It sparked and bucked in my fragile hold. He shouted as it fastened onto him, and levin fire danced around my fingers. I didn’t know how long I could hold it or how much it would take. This was all I had. I’d put all my cards on the table. It would either be enough, or we would die trying.
“Now!” I cried.
Soot rained from Nicolo’s form, spilling out onto the Butchery floor as his protection split. He let out a bellow and kicked me and the nullifier away, but I heard, I swear I heard his armor crack as it splintered. Shards spilled out among the soot, hard, crystalline daggers of broken spells. We danced around them, for they looked as lethal as any blade. Around me, Gregory leaped to my side and Malender joined him, spells and whip deafening me as they attacked. Carter circled around behind the Master.
Nicolo fought back. Faster than I can track, he struck and lashed out, and Gregory
and Malender answered his blows. Two against one, and yet not enough. They were busy defending us and themselves from the others who had gone wild. Malender reared back on one heel and brought his whip up, and Gregory joined him, his cane blazing with blue-white fire. Side by side, demigod and phoenix wizard, they laid into Nicolo with everything they had.
About me, vampires screeched in high-pitched anger, and I could hear them take to the rafters and tables to leap at us. Whatever happened between Nicolo and the stone, he had lost control of his mob as threatened. We might fell him and yet be engulfed by the ravening creatures he’d created.
Someone—it had to be Carter—pushed my khopesh back into my hand. I almost dropped it, shaking as I did, as it filled my left hand. I wasn’t ambidextrous, but I blinked hot tears back, and closed my grip tightly, prepared to swing away. I’d let go of the stone, yet it stayed in my mind, in my possession as if it hated to let me go. Some chance would be better than none. My sun lion brought up his power, energy crashing into the ravening wave of vampire servants.
Nicolo let out a groan as we both pulled to possess the maelstrom. Flooded with golden light straight out of an eternal desert, I fought to get on my feet and take the stone away from him. My tears matched his as crimson drops flooding down his vampire face. I only noticed mine as they pattered down upon my hands, red as they could be.
I could feel my father fading. Wayward mage that he had proven to be, yet he’d taken this last true pathway, and now found himself defeated. His desperation flooded me. He said, “Forgive me for not loving you both as much as I should.” It sounded final.
Our only chance to win sank into failure. I turned a bit to scream, “Get him!”
I’d emptied all I had. Reserves gone, I swayed and staggered as I readied to fight.
Carter and I moved back-to-back again, and I let go of both of the relics, turning my thoughts to survival, abandoning my father once again. The nullifier disintegrated; I swapped my khopesh to my dominant hand. We hammered the vampires who dared to close in. Unceasing numbers. Too strong, too hungry, and far, far too many. We might lose, but we would take as many with us as we could.
My father’s voice went silent. In the corner of my eye, I could see Nicolo fighting off the whip, his sword blade silvery as a kind of darkness began to fall about him.
Talons slashed across the side of my head. It stung like a bitch, but at least I still had my head on my neck. I swung back with the sickle blade, connecting with a dark shape I could only sense. I didn’t hear a thud. Damage done but not enough. Wetness dripped off me. My blood? Remy’s? The attackers?
A beam from an open door fell over us. Nicolo frowned at the brightness, retreating a step or two. I heard Evelyn call out, “I’m losing the door. Retreat! Come back!”
No roar from Hiram. He must have his hands full protecting her, and we could no more retreat than we could have grown wings. My arms grew heavy and my legs leaden. I no longer saw individual targets but a wave of figures in dark clothing descending upon us, over and over and over.
Then Gregory let out a triumphant grunt. I turned my attention a fraction to see him and Malender bearing down on Nicolo—and the Master giving way to them. He roared, and the scourge lashed over his throat, slicing it through, his cry truncated sharply. A bolt of lightning fire from the professor took Nicolo’s head off completely.
The stone thunked to the floor. The samurai sword followed.
Nicolo’s body did not disintegrate until Carter loosed his sun lion and then, eerily, the body went to particles, his clothing falling limp as it did.
The vampires screamed.
Not a one of them dropped, to follow their Master. We were up to our necks in a swamp of vamps, with little hope of getting out.
I thought of one last desperate outreach. I maybe had one chance left. I pulled out my last ace, the forbidden one hidden up my sleeve. I cleared my throat to summon.
“Herne, Herne, Herne. Bring your Wild Hunt, and I return the pup that is yours.” He hadn’t given me his name, but hey—wasn’t that what the Internet was for? You’d best believe I’d looked it up.
Outside, somewhere, my mother waited with Scout. I’d told her she would know when to let him go. I prayed she did.
A bugle call blasted the air. The entire front of the Butchery blew away, and the forest came tumbling in. Branches pushed through. Fresh air and pine and the sound of clean water rushing through river banks still hidden shoved inward along with hoof beats and the triumphant call of a master Huntsman rallying his pack. They stampeded in, and Nicolo’s children fell before them, as did the bodies still writhing on their hooks. Some survived. Most did not. None of the vampire ghouls made it out.
The four of us gathered together, wearily, chests heaving as if we’d run a marathon, our weapons pointed to the floor, and watched in muted awe.
The Wild Hunt swept the Butchery clean of all its inequities, galloping round as they did, until finally the great Huntsman himself reined to a stop in front of us, and slid off his silvery white horse. Scout trotted up to join him, his sides splashed with blood and gore, his ears perked, his attention rapt upon the pack master.
Herne lowered his antlered head, his face somewhat amused as he took in Malender. “Justice,” he greeted.
“Justice,” Malender returned. “Although I am but one and you are a multitude.”
“Join us and you need never be alone again.” He put a broad hand forward.
I think Malender hesitated. Perhaps not, because they clasped in a handshake, and Mal’s scourge dropped uselessly to the floor, disappearing. A steed of pale gold, its saddle empty, trotted up, and Malender mounted up with a single, graceful jump to take up its reins. He looked toward me and gave me a little salute.
“Farewell, Tessa of the Salt. I shall remember your lessons of mercy.” He reined his steed in behind the Huntsman.
I faced Herne. “I am grateful you answered.”
The primal being considered me. I thought I’d said it carefully enough, but my heart thudded in apprehension once or twice. When I’d looked up the Huntsman’s name, I’d also found useful information that one should never thank a fairy directly lest trouble ensue.
He pronounced, “A debt is canceled. A future is given. It’s as it should be.”
The Huntsman whistled. The Hunt behind him began to ride away, toward the open forest which ought to have been a city street but hadn’t always been and quite possibly wouldn’t be in some far-flung future. Soon, only the antlered immortal and my dog remained.
He dropped his hand down to Scout’s head. I couldn’t say goodbye to my pup. It sounds silly to say, but I’d already lost so much. I didn’t think I could bear losing him, too, but a promise is a promise. The words stuck in my throat. I settled for merely nodding at Herne.
“He has proven his loyalty and his place. I return him to your charge . . .” and the Huntsman paused before saying ironically, “Tessa of the Salt. For as long as you shall live, which hopefully will be long, indeed.”
Scout didn’t hesitate. He jumped into my arms, a big enough and heavy enough burden to knock me on my tush. I hugged him close, too tired to cry for happiness.
I didn’t see the Huntsman leave.
The Butchery repaired itself behind him, I guess, because suddenly it became a popular bar and restaurant and karaoke inn again. Evelyn and Hiram joined us, Hiram dirtied and bloodied like the rest of us, except for Evie. Her armor served her well, for she had not a hair out of place or a single drop of bloodied sawdust on her. She bent over as she kicked something on the flooring.
“Don’t—” I started but not in time, as the maelstrom stone promptly buried itself in her left hand.
“My, my.” She tapped it. “Wasn’t this yours? But it’s hardly there at all. It doesn’t look the same.”
I leaned in to look at it. It wasn’t, diminished to barely th
e size of a quarter. “May I?” I stroked a fingertip over it.
My father no longer inhabited the stone. I had no idea where he’d gone. Heaven, I suppose, if such a place exists. I hoped it did. He’d given all he could. What further amends could anyone make?
Hiram shoved the door open, and we shuffled out after the two of them. My mother stood nervously on the sidewalk, leash and harness dangling from her hands.
“Thank god,” she said.
“Gods,” Carter corrected, and, “Yes.”
She and Gregory hugged, and walked away, Gregory’s head bent down to her as he filled her in with such details as he wanted her to know.
Scout stayed tight at my calf as we walked down the street. Something tickled in my left palm; I sneaked a peak when Carter couldn’t see.
A thin and wavy black line lay across the lines of my hand. Not a scar. Not the normal lines every palm developed over the years. Something that looked as if a fine-point marker had traced its ebony path across my skin.
Somehow, I knew that if I pulled at it, I’d bring a long, black whip curling out of my hand, a whip with razor-sharp thorns and flickering flames. I closed my eyes briefly. I might have to call Malender back and return his parting gift. If he’d answer. If he’d accept it back. If he even truly existed in my world anymore.
* * *
• • •
It’s good when Councils of War turn into Councils of Peace. Or, supper, as we call it at my house. Gregory entered the house last, finding Carter and me, Hiram, Evelyn, and my mother all sitting about the table enjoying a hearty bowl of soup with fresh-baked rolls. I’d come in late as well, determined to make up for it, so I barely slowed in eating. He motioned for my mom to stay seated, went to the tureen, and served himself, snagging a second basket of rolls as he did.