She slashed at the web with the glowing spectrolite crystal. To her surprise, it cut through the webbing like a hot knife, freeing her. She scurried to keep up with the rolling Jeep, her head ducked low.
Another sticky white lasso of webbing wrapped around her boot, making her stumble, and more webs quickly caught her shoulder and wrist, immobilizing her arm.
Before she could accept what was happening, she found herself toppling to the floor, quickly being encased and immobilized by webs. At the last moment, she closed her fingers around the spectrolite crystal, willing it to go dark.
There was a chance she could use it to cut herself free. But not here, not now.
The Jeep lazily rolled away, engine chugging and filling the air with the foul stench of burning oil, until Titus strolled over and shut it off. He picked up her bag of crystals from the ground and tossed it in the back of the Jeep.
Then he loomed over her, arms folded. His hissing horde of undead crowded in behind him.
“Okay,” she said, struggling against the webbing. “If you really want, I guess you can call me Drusy.”
28
AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN
At Titus’s command, the horde of hissing undead hoisted Dru up and carried her away down the tunnel. She fought against the moldy-smelling webs that wrapped tightly around her entire body, leaving only her head exposed. But it was no use. No matter how much she writhed or strained, the webs wouldn’t give.
The only good news was that the web cocoon protected her from direct contact with the black dripping claws of the undead. But that was cold comfort.
Everywhere the sticky webs touched her skin, they had a disturbing numbing effect, making her arms and thighs feel uncomfortably hot and rubbery. Like going to the dentist, only a hundred times worse. The cocoon felt as if it was draining the energy from her body, short-circuiting her magical power, leaving her exhausted and disoriented.
Her fingers closed around the knife-shaped shard of spectrolite crystal she had hidden in her palm. It wasn’t much, unless she could charge up the crystal, and right now she didn’t have the strength. If she could find a way, then there was a chance she could cut herself out of the cocoon. But first, she would have to get away from this staggering horde.
Which wouldn’t be easy, considering she was currently crowd surfing above the undead.
Dru expected them to carry her all the way back to the library, but instead they made a detour. They crossed a set of rusty, narrow-gauge railroad tracks set into the ground and headed down a smaller tunnel lined with surprisingly ordinary-looking apartment doors.
Here, the mountain rock that formed the tunnel was clean and polished. The doors were painted a happy modern orange. Evenly spaced overhead lights eliminated the shadows, making the place look more like a boring tech startup or a self-storage facility than an abandoned nuclear complex.
Everything here seemed almost normal, she thought. If you didn’t count the crowd of hissing, limping undead led by Titus in his candy apple–red Sergeant Pepper uniform.
The undead carried her through a door into a round chamber that had been halfway transformed into a studio apartment of some kind. A small kitchenette with expensive but unused appliances sat half assembled beside a stack of furniture still wrapped in plastic.
Titus motioned toward a padded bench jammed up against one wall, and the creatures deposited her there. With a dizzying jolt, she found herself sitting upright, spine pressed against the rough stone wall. She tried to shift her position, but she was unable to do much more than wriggle inside the swaddling webs.
One by one, the undead creatures filed out the orange door, leaving her alone with Titus. Her gaze darted around the room, frantically searching for anything that could help her. Any sharp edges. Any heavy blunt objects. Anything that could be turned into a weapon.
Nothing. The place was as dull as an empty U-Haul truck.
Except for the artwork. Opposite her, hung directly from the raw granite wall, was an amateurish painting of a sprawling space capsule–white mansion shaped entirely of curves and domes. Its dark round windows stared skull-like out across a landscape of scattered creosote bushes that dotted the reddish hills of the New Mexico desert.
Dru recognized the place immediately. The Harbingers mansion.
The place where she, Rane, and Greyson had first encountered the evil magic of the Harbingers. Where they had nearly died. And where she had first discovered that she was in way over her head, facing a foe she could only barely comprehend.
Some things never changed.
Alone with her now, Titus clasped his hands behind his back and followed her gaze to the painting. “It’s not my style, personally. But it was painted by one of the Harbingers, I believe. That makes it rather priceless, don’t you think?”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “Priceless? You’re kidding.”
He shrugged. “Matter of opinion, I suppose. But it was in the estate auction with everything else. So I thought, well, why not?”
Angrily, Dru struggled against the webbing. All she accomplished was racking her leg with a painful muscle knot. She groaned in frustration.
Titus looked apologetic. “It’s quite tight. I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I don’t give a Jar Jar Binks what you wish,” Dru snapped. She was fed up with all the double-talk and veiled hints. It was time to lay all of her cards on the table. “What did you do with Greyson? I know he’s down here somewhere.”
Titus shook his head. “I’m sorry, who?”
She glared at him. “Don’t lie to me anymore,” she said through gritted teeth.
He crossed the room, picked up a plush orange cushion, and gently wedged it behind her back, easing the discomfort of the rough granite wall. His dark eyes were kind. “I have never lied to you, Drusy, not once,” he said softly.
He seemed sincere, but she wasn’t willing to give an inch. “Greyson. Red eyes. Leather jacket. Amazing hair. Has a really badly behaved car.”
“Oh, the Horseman,” Titus said, as if that explained everything. “Trust me, he’s no friend. You’re better off staying as far away from him as possible.”
“So you do know him!”
“We’ve never been properly introduced.” Titus pulled up an expensive-looking stool and sat down in front of her. “He’s the only Horseman I could find. The other three seem to have vanished. He wasn’t easy to capture, but one is all I need.”
Her heart leaped. Greyson was alive.
Burning hot tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She didn’t bother blinking them away. They ran in tiny rivers down her neck and into the webs.
She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t alone.
Greyson was down here, somewhere.
She would find him, she silently swore to herself. No matter what.
Titus apparently mistook her joy for worry, because he laid a comforting hand on the part of the cocoon that wrapped over her hands. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re completely safe, I promise. He’s not going to get you. I have the Horseman locked up tight, in preparation.”
It didn’t seem as if it was possible for any more alarm bells to go off in her head, but they were clanging like an air raid. Quietly, Dru asked, “In preparation for what?”
He gazed at her as if she were the most delicate thing he had ever seen. “We’re going to build a beautiful world together. I’ve never been more certain.”
He really was obsessed with her, she realized.
“Titus, focus on my words. Tell me the truth. Why do you need the Horseman?”
“To finish what they started.” He glanced over his shoulder at the painting, and his voice swelled with admiration. “What no one seems to fully appreciate about the Harbingers is just how many magical breakthroughs they engineered. They weren’t afraid to break the rules, in fact even completely rewrite the rules. They opened doors that no one knew even existed.”
His admiration of the Harbingers made he
r skin crawl. “They set out to destroy the world. Kind of wipes out any other accolades, doesn’t it?”
“Point taken. But think for a moment about the reasons why they were so driven.” He ticked them off on his gloved fingers. “Environmental destruction. Nuclear proliferation. Moral decay. Corrupt governments forcing millions to starve. Can you blame them, truly, for trying to start over?” He stood and paced the room. “Imagine a world where magic is no longer hidden in the shadows. We will no longer be a sideshow or a curiosity, none of us. We won’t have to hide in the dark anymore.”
“You make it sound like sorcerers are repressed,” Dru said. “Like we’re some kind of second-class citizen. But it isn’t like that.”
He gave her a pitying look. “You have your powers, Drusy. But you haven’t lived the life of a sorcerer. You don’t know what it’s like, having this unstoppable power inside you that alienates you from everyone. Forces you to lose everything you value. Everyone you trust. You don’t know what it’s like to have to live in the shadows of the world that doesn’t accept you.”
“Kind of do,” she insisted. “Because all my life, I’ve been surrounded by full-fledged sorcerers like you who didn’t accept me.”
He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “We can create an entirely new world where the possibilities will be completely unfettered by the laws of physics. Consider the speed demon, Hellbringer. It fixes itself. It never needs maintenance. Never needs fuel.” He paused, as if savoring some delicious taste. “Isn’t it brilliant? What if every vehicle in the world were like that?”
She tracked him as he crossed the room. “We’re on the eve of doomsday, and you’re worried about gas mileage?”
“You’re missing the point. The new world will be ruled by magic. Powered by it. Magic itself will be the driving force for good.” Titus threw his arms wide, and the gold tassels on his red uniform shimmered. “You and I, we can accomplish so much more than anyone ever has before. We can realize the dreams that the Harbingers only imagined. But better. We can make this world a good place again.”
She stared up at him. “You talk a lot about doing good. But you have no idea how far you’ve gone over the line, do you? It’s like your good and evil meter is completely broken.”
He looked amused. “The concept of evil is a modern construct. It won’t apply in the new world. When we are finally free to live in a state of pure magic, there will be no good or evil. There is only what you do, and what you don’t do.”
Dru chewed on her lip. “Okay that, right there, sounds suspiciously evil.”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Last week, there were four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Now there’s only one. And I have him.” The gold flecks in his dark brown eyes practically shimmered with excitement. “With his doomsday energy at hand, I can increase the power of the scourge one hundredfold.”
“For . . . what, exactly?”
“Drusy, doomsday is going to happen,” Titus said, with utter certainty. “One way or another, the world will end. I’m just here to make sure it ends properly. A controlled landing, if you will.”
Dru imagined grabbing him by his gold-braided lapels and shaking some sanity into him. But that wouldn’t do any good. And in her cocooned state, it wasn’t going to happen anyway.
Fortunately, years of customer service experience had taught her that when she most wanted to scream, that was when she needed to put on a smile instead.
“You know what, Titus? We could do that,” she said in a soothing tone, watching as his shoulders relaxed and his sharp features softened. “We could work together. I can see it. You and me.”
“Yes.” His voice seemed to fill the room.
“You’re powerful, Titus. You’re resourceful. Obviously, you know what you’re doing. Just the existence of this place proves that. And you have like a whole army of dead guys to do your bidding. Which is, you know, really impressive.”
The look in his eyes told her that he was going to try to kiss her again.
She shrank back against the granite wall, speaking quickly. “So here’s my idea. Instead, you and I can team up to save the world. We can find the apocalypse scroll. Reseal it. And stop doomsday. We can do it. I know how. Or at least I have a pretty good idea.”
“Drusy, you don’t understand—”
“I’m not kidding,” she insisted. “I know how the Harbingers found the scroll in the first place. I figured it out. You think you’ve been studying the Harbingers stuff? Well, so have I.” She hedged. “Maybe not exactly as in-depth as you. But still. I know how.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s impossible. The apocalypse scroll is . . .” Suddenly distracted, he looked over his shoulder at the orange door, then crossed over to it and poked his head out into the tunnel. He frowned.
Dru leaned forward, constrained by the webbing, dying to know what he was about to say. “The apocalypse scroll is . . . what? Talk to me, Titus.”
“You can live in a state of denial if that’s what you choose. But that’s not going to help anyone.” With stiff movements, he returned and put the stool away, avoiding her gaze. “Unfortunately, our guests are becoming restless. Right about now, those who are still conscious are starting to wonder why they can’t go home. It’s time I welcomed them to their new home.” He looked her up and down. “You seem uncomfortable. Let me get you a drink. It will make all of this so much easier to understand. And the effects aren’t permanent, I promise.”
A leaden worry landed inside Dru’s stomach. “Effects? What effects?”
His expression hardened. “I’m sorry, Drusy, but I can’t trust you with everything just yet.”
As she looked into his cold eyes, she thought about Opal and Ruiz sipping on those huge tropical-looking drinks. A spike of fear shot through her.
Had Rane had anything to drink? Or Salem? She didn’t know for sure.
What was in those drinks? What would it do to them?
And could she find them in time to warn them?
Suddenly everything clicked in Dru’s mind with the quiet deadliness of a gun being cocked.
“This masquerade wasn’t a volvajo at all. It was a trap.” Rane was right, she realized. “You lured all of those sorcerers down here, but there was no contest. You just wanted them to wear themselves out up on those stages. Use up all their magical powers so they couldn’t put up a fight. Right? And then you, what, drugged them? What’s next, webbing them up, like me? Keeping them freshly wrapped for doomsday?”
He crossed the room and looked down at her. “I know you’re angry at me, and for that I offer my most profound apologies. Obviously you don’t approve of my methods. But you can’t argue with my results.” He adjusted the orange cushion behind her back and laid the fingers of his gloved hand briefly against her cheek. “Let’s toast the success of the evening. I’ll be right back with our drinks. Is a straw acceptable?”
Before she could think of a comeback, he left, closing the door behind him. She strained her ears for the sound of his footsteps receding, and waited a few more moments to be sure he was gone.
How long did she have before he came back and forced her to drink his concoction?
A minute?
She had to act. Now. There was only one thing she could do. She just hoped it would work.
29
NEXT TO YOU
Salem set down his empty glass and threaded his way across the dance floor, doing his best to keep Rane in sight without tipping her off that he was following her. The woman had zero sense of personal boundaries, and she couldn’t detect sarcasm if it was dropped in her lap. But she was cunning. He had to give her that. Her razor-sharp hunting instincts made her impossible to sneak up on unnoticed.
Or nearly impossible, anyway. After so many years together, Salem knew her blind spots. And in times like this, that history of close familiarity made all the difference.
He avoided contact with the gyrating sorcerers around him, ducking beneath swinging arms and dodging
sharp heels. The crowd was a seething ocean of black velvet, fishnets, hair, leather, feathers—and masks.
So many masks. With long, pointed noses. Or plumed with feathers. Or made of nothing but twisted metal wire. Everyone was trying so very, very hard to impress everyone else. It was difficult not to pity them.
Details leaped out at him with unusually sharp focus. A silver ankh. A gold tooth. A tattooed sigil at the base of a neck. Snatches of a vaguely familiar language. The sharp aroma of clove smoke. The brush of lace against the back of his hand.
The deeper he went into this crowd, the more it fragmented into discrete impressions that he couldn’t seem to assimilate. It was as if his mind had cracked into pieces and started falling apart.
And what had happened to the music? All he could pick up now was a faint rhythmic buzz, like a speaker hooked up to badly grounded wire.
He blinked, fighting the creeping numbness at the edges of his mind. Something was wrong, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It made it hard to think.
That concerned him deeply.
For a moment, he lost his concentration and stumbled. He bumped into a rotund clown in a black leather vest with spiked shoulder pads, making him spill his drink. Rotating in place like a tank turret, the big clown glared down at Salem from beneath white-painted eyebrows and a three-tasseled hat.
Apologizing would be a waste of time, Salem decided. He ducked around the clown, but with more difficulty than he expected. After just one drink, his movements were surprisingly sluggish and imprecise. Those drinks were stronger than he had anticipated.
Too strong. Salem drew up short. There had to be more than just alcohol lurking beneath those ridiculous flower petals and miniature umbrellas.
He turned back to the clown, who had already seemingly forgotten about him, and grabbed the massively overdecorated glass goblet out of his hand. Over his squalling protests, Salem spirited the drink away until he reached the edge of the dance floor.
Along the way, he reached deep inside his black silk shirt and pulled out his protective gold amulet by its woven leather thong. With his back to the crowd, he dropped the amulet into the glass.
A Kiss Before Doomsday Page 23