A Kiss Before Doomsday

by Laurence MacNaughton

  With a flicker of darkness, Ember reappeared on the other side of the room, bending to snatch up an armful of some kind of mesh that shimmered like metal.

  But instead of going after Ember, Rane leaped into the air and caught the rebounding cannonball in both hands with a metallic clang. Landing on her feet, she pivoted to face Ember.

  With a furious glare, Ember swirled and vanished again.

  As if sensing where Ember was teleporting next, Rane spun and hurled the cannonball once more. But the sorceress reappeared for only a moment before vanishing again. The cannonball sailed through the space where she had stood and obliterated an antique wooden desk, sending stacks of yellow papers exploding into the air.

  Dru watched in horror. She had to stop this fight before someone got killed. But how?

  “Rane!” she yelled.

  “Busy!” Rane jumped up onto a table, scattering antiques, and caught the cannonball again.

  This time, when Ember reappeared, her back was turned to Rane. Her kohl-outlined eyes flashed wide in fear or maybe confusion, and she disappeared again just as the flying cannonball cracked off the floor where she’d stood, leaving a crater.

  The cannonball bounced straight at Dru.

  She saw it coming and ducked. It streaked over her head, so close she felt the wind ruffle her hair. The crash of shattering glass behind her was unmistakable, and a sickly sweet stench flooded the place.

  The cannonball had gone straight through the line of aquariums, demolishing them. The strange whiskey-colored liquid flooded out across the floor, carrying the rib cage and arm bones of the undead creature like ships on a rogue wave.

  Heart pounding, Dru ran for the door. She had no intention of leaving Rane behind, but as long as that killer cannonball was bouncing around, she had to get out of the line of fire. Besides, there was no telling what that foul liquid would do if it touched human skin.

  With a swirl of smoke, Ember appeared before her, straddling the top of a workbench. Grinning wickedly, she unfurled the armful of metal mesh at Dru.

  Dru tried to duck out of the way, but the metal mesh expanded in midair. A weighted net tangled her arms and legs. Two steps later, Dru crashed to the floor in an undignified heap.

  Ember smirked. “Now we will see who—aiee!” She broke off in mid-sentence as Rane grabbed the hem of her coat and yanked her off her feet.

  “You leave her alone!” Rane roared. She swung Ember high overhead, legs kicking in the air, and slammed her down onto her back beside Dru.

  As the sorceress gasped for breath, Dru stared wide-eyed at the pool of toxic liquid slowly spreading across the floor toward them. But even more frightening than that, the stained bones of the undead creature started to rebuild itself. Scattered finger bones reassembled into a hand, clattering as it latched onto arm bones that reconnected to the shoulder and then the rib cage. Black oily scourge swirled out of the liquid and streamed across the bones, quickly sprouting web wrappings.

  “Problem!” Dru yelled. “Undead!” She struggled against the mesh net, but couldn’t get out. Beside her, Ember coughed and gasped for air.

  Rane, chest heaving, stood over Ember with her fists clenched. From the single-minded fury written across her face, she was clearly focused on Ember, not the undead creature slowly getting to its feet behind her.

  Skull rotating back into place, the creature twitched as the webs built up around its body, layer by layer.

  “Rane!” Dru struggled to escape the net. “Creature! Behind you!”

  Still breathing hard, Rane finally tore her ferocious gaze away from Ember, who was still coughing. “What?” Then she looked over her shoulder at the creature.

  It raised its arms, and its bony fingers stretched into black dripping claws.

  Across the room, the door burst open. Salem strode through, long black coat rippling behind him, his gray eyes blazing with a white glow. Without breaking stride, he marched toward the creature, hands steepled together. His lip curled, and he flung his hands apart. Magic sizzled through the air.

  An invisible blast of force rippled across the room. With a thunderclap that made Dru’s ears ring, the creature exploded into tiny fragments of shattered bone and fluttering webs. Pieces of the creature clattered off the ceiling and walls and tumbled away into the clutter.

  Invisible waves of magic, like an unseen wind, pushed the pool of sickly yellow liquid back until it soaked into the scattered papers from the smashed antique desk. Aside from the lingering stench and a nasty stain on the floor, there was nothing left.

  The cannonball, finally spent, rolled across the floor and banged into a trash can, denting it.

  In the ringing silence that followed, Dru got herself free of the net and tried to pull Ember to her feet. At first, the sorceress resisted. But finally, breathing more normally, she relented and let Dru help her stand up. “Thank you,” Ember whispered, avoiding Dru’s gaze.

  Rane turned to square off against Salem as he strode up to the three of them, seething.

  His face twisted with fury. Through clenched teeth, he ground out one word. “Why?”

  Rane pointed at Ember. “She totally started it.”

  “She lies,” Ember said, her voice rough. She drew in a breath to say more, but Salem cut her off with the wave of a hand.

  “Out,” he ordered her.

  Ember blinked, stunned. She smiled uneasily, as if sure she had misunderstood him.

  Dru looked from Salem to the others, feeling confused and more than a little guilty. It took her a moment to summon up the courage to speak, but she had to set the record straight. “It’s actually our fault, Salem. We found your hat.”

  His crazy gray eyes met hers for a moment. “Of course you did. And then you jumped to your usual simpleminded conclusions.”

  “Well, I don’t know about simpleminded.”

  Ember dusted off her coat. “You can’t possibly let these two—”

  “Out!” Salem pointed toward the door.

  Ember looked him up and down, her lip curling in disgust. She leaned toward him. “You will never learn,” she said forcefully. Then with a glare at Rane, she swept her black coat around her body and vanished in a knot of sooty smoke.

  When Ember was gone, Salem advanced angrily on Dru.

  Rane stepped in between them, still in iron form. “You touch her, and I will kick your ass,” she spat. “I don’t care. I’ll kick your ass until it stays kicked.”

  Instead of replying, he just dropped his shoulders and sighed.

  Rane waited for a response, but got nothing from him. Completely confused, she glanced over at Dru, who held up her hands helplessly.

  Dru cleared her throat. “I think we should just go.”

  Rane dipped her head so she could be face-to-face with Salem, but he just turned and walked away.

  Puzzled, Rane scratched the back of her head with a metallic rasping sound. With a shrug, she headed for the door. “Fine. Whatever. We’re out of here.”

  Dru had so many questions for Salem, but he obviously wasn’t going to talk, and she didn’t feel brave enough to push him. She turned to follow Rane.

  But just as she reached the door, Salem ground out one word: “Wait.”

  That word was so full of hurt and anguish it sounded like it had been wrenched from the depths of his being. Such raw emotion was so unlike Salem that it startled Dru.

  He pointed one long finger at her. “Just you.” Then he turned away, avoiding Rane’s gaze.

  Rane planted her fists on her hips and opened her mouth to retort, but a warning glance from Dru silenced her.

  They had reached the edge of something big, Dru sensed. She didn’t know what Salem was about to tell her—about doomsday, about the Harbingers, about the undead creature he was keeping in his apartment—but she was willing to go out on a limb to find out. Even though a small part of her warned that being alone with Salem was the dumbest thing she could possibly do right now.

  “It’s okay,” Dru
whispered to Rane. “I’ll just talk to him for a minute.”

  Rane’s metal forehead wrinkled in disbelief. “Seriously?” She shot a foul look at Salem’s back.

  Dru nodded.

  “Whatever.” Rane stomped out the door. Her metal footsteps clomped away across the roof. “I’m going to be right out here,” she called over her shoulder.

  Salem stood with his back to Dru. The silence settled heavily around them, except for an insistent dripping somewhere in the room. The air smelled sickly sweet.

  “Look, Salem.” Dru’s voice cracked, and she nervously swallowed. “About Ember, I’m really sorry, I feel terrible, we shouldn’t have—”

  “No. And yet, once again, you did.” Salem turned around. His gray eyes burned with a murderous intensity that made her flinch. “You have the unfailing habit of stirring up things that should be left alone. It’s a talent of yours.”

  “You know what, maybe you’re right, and I’m so sorry—”

  “Are you, really?” Salem closed in on her, one slow step at a time. “If you’re truly sorry, then you’ll make things right again. Sound fair?”

  That sounded like a trap. Dru backed up until she bumped into a table covered in clutter. Something rattled over the edge and fell to the floor. “To be fair? We found your hat at Greyson’s place. Care to explain that?”

  He just watched her, his eyes glittering.

  “It’s in Opal’s car, by the way.” She pointed hesitantly. “If you want it back.” She cleared her throat. “Look, it’s pretty darn incriminating. And you have an undead creature in your house, which doesn’t bode well. But yeah, still, I am sorry. Sure. Of course.”

  “Sure? Of course?” He was plainly mocking her. “Too easy. Is your life nothing but an endless chain of commitment issues? Where’s your resolve? Your conviction?”

  Anger boiled up inside her. She shook a finger at him. “Hey, don’t push it, bub. I’m apologizing here, even though I’m not the one who even started this fight.”

  “Oh, then, my mistake.” His black-lined eyes widened theatrically. “Rane came up with this whole plan all on her own, I’m sure. You did your best to stop her from coming here, and yet . . .”

  Dru sighed, determined not to get drawn into another one of Salem’s head games. “Just tell me one thing, okay?”

  “I was studying the creature, not creating it. Trying to figure out how to fight it. Because there will be plenty more of them, I guarantee.” He scowled at her. “Satisfied?”

  “Only if I believe you. Which I’m not sure I do. Look, if you want me to trust you, why don’t we work together? Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you. Crystals? Books? More information for your . . . wall art here?” She waved a hand at his expansive collage of doomsday material.

  Salem started to say something and stopped. After a moment, he looked away, and his emotional armor seemed to crumble. He drew in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. In a low voice, he said, “I need you to help her forget about me.”

  Dru blinked. That was not what she expected. “Huh?”

  “You heard me,” he snapped. “Do you expect me to repeat myself? Find her a new boyfriend. Someone who isn’t fragile. In any sense of the word.”

  That was so ludicrous Dru couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I am so not doing that. Hook Rane up with another guy? Are you kidding me? That’s like trying to get a kindergartener to adopt a porcupine. Forget it. You can work things out with Ember or not. That’s up to you. Just leave me out of it.”

  Salem rolled his eyes with undisguised frustration. “There is no ‘thing’ with Ember. There never was. Don’t you understand that?”

  What Dru was about to say next was immediately drowned out by the giant phonograph needle scratching across her mind. “Wait, what?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Salem said, as if explaining it to a child.

  “But . . .” Dru pointed vaguely in the direction Ember had vanished. “Then what . . . ? Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure she is.”

  “That’s what Rane told you,” Salem said. “That’s what she thinks. So keep letting her believe it. For her own good.”

  Dru folded her arms. “I’m not buying it. Ember is staying here, in your place. You’re living together.”

  “She’s crashing here while she works things out with her family. We’re doing research together.” Salem glared. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less whether you believe it or not. Just keep Rane away from me.”

  “You’re going to have to give me a better explanation.”

  “Is that really necessary?” He opened his arms to encompass the wreckage around them. “Rane doesn’t know when to back away from a fight. In fact, she has the uncanny knack of creating a fight where none exists.”

  Dru shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  “When it comes to the end of the world, when it comes to the forces clashing over doomsday, that’s when a full frontal assault is guaranteed to lose. And when the stakes are this high, losing means death. Swift and sure death.” Salem’s face turned fierce. “I won’t watch her die. And I won’t let you get her killed.”

  “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Dru said. “Look, you two deserve to be together. You need to be. You were such a good team.”

  “Once. Not anymore,” Salem said. “I grew up. She didn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

  “She needs you.”

  He sniffed. “Definitely an overstatement. And even if it were true, it’s still impossible. Because where I’m going now, she can’t keep up. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

  Dru slowly shook her head. “You’re an arrogant jerk sometimes, you know that?”

  “Sometimes? Hmm. Must be slipping.”

  “You’re underestimating her. And that’s sad. Because she has so much to offer, and you’re just throwing that all away.” Dru headed for the door. “And you know what? I don’t need to hear this anymore. I’m leaving. I’m just going to tell Rane—”

  “No.” Salem’s voice stopped her cold. “She’s angry.”

  Dru paused. “Have you been paying attention? She’s furious with you.”

  “Good. Rane needs to be angry. Anger is her fuel. It’s what powers her through those crucial moments that would crush anyone else. With doomsday on the way, she needs her anger to survive. She can’t be distracted by me.”

  That actually kind of made sense, in a twisted way. But it still didn’t seem right. “Don’t you think she deserves to know the truth?”

  “She doesn’t deserve anything. None of us do. If life was about having what we deserved . . .” He broke off and suddenly turned away, but not before Dru could see the hurt and vulnerability on his face.

  It was so unlike Salem, so true and raw, that it stunned her to see it. She watched Salem’s back as he crossed to a window, narrow shoulders hunched, and suddenly he looked different to her.

  He no longer looked the part of the most powerful sorcerer she’d ever met. For the moment, he was just an old friend in pain.

  “She still loves you,” Dru said softly. “So much. Do you still love her? Because if you do, then this isn’t fair.”

  She couldn’t see his face. Over his shoulder, he said, “Fair or not, let her hold onto that rage. Because that’s the only way she’s going to survive this. Take it away from her now, and she won’t make it.”

  Dru considered that. She didn’t agree with it, but she wasn’t going to argue with Salem about it anymore. “What about you?”

  “Me? Well . . .” He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to see if you’re right.”

  “About what?”

  He turned. A sardonic smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his expression hardened into the old, familiar Salem. “About us getting what we deserve.”

  13

  FOUND IN TRANSLATION

  Dru cleared out a spot on her battered workbench in the back room of the Crystal Connection. No matter how many t
imes she swore to herself that she would get this place organized, it had a habit of falling into constant disarray. There were always more crystals to catalog, more ancient books to study, more potions to formulate, and a thousand other things that desperately needed to be done.

  She studiously ignored the familiar dog-eared yellow legal pad that was scribbled full of to-do lists, begging for attention. Some of those lists went back to the day she opened this shop.

  She piled up all of her loose papers on top of the legal pad and set Titus’s barite rose on top as a paperweight. There was something about the flower-shaped rock that made her uneasy. As delicate and beautiful as it was, with its paper-thin stone petals, it looked old and dead. It reminded her of a life fossilized in stone, trapped forever, unable to fully bloom.

  Titus had taken the opposite view. “For cleansing away the past,” he’d said in his deep voice. “Preparing for a new future.”

  What did he mean by that, exactly?

  Dru shook her head. None of that mattered now. Not if this scrap of paper from Salem’s wall could lead her to the apocalypse scroll, and ultimately to Greyson.

  Dru shoved everything else on the workbench aside and made a space to lay out the cryptic drawing.

  “What’s that?” Opal asked, eating tiny cinnamon rolls out of a wide white paper box.

  “A clue I found on Salem’s freakishly huge end-of-the-world collage.”

  “Found?” Opal asked neutrally.

  “Well, okay, so maybe I kind of stole it.” Dru held up a finger. “But in my defense, you know he’s stolen things from me. More than once, and that’s a fact.”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’m sure he sees it that way.” Opal delicately dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin. “You think he’s going to come looking for it?”

  “Um.” Dru winced. She hadn’t thought of that. “Once he sorts through the tidal wave of destruction in his apartment and figures out that somebody took this . . . well, maybe. The list of suspects is pretty short.” She scooted her creaky chair in closer to the workbench and switched on her magnifying lamp.