by P. Kirby
“You’re freezing,” Maya said, tightening her grip around his torso. “Where’s your ugly jacket?” Her fingers worked up and down his back, pinpoints of warmth and magic on his cold flesh.
“Adam took it.” His teeth were starting to chatter, which served to make his swollen lip throb. Just throb without any of the usual burning that accompanied healing.
“Where’d you learn to do that, that shock spell?”
“Breas.”
“Breas? My Breas?” He pulled back a little, trying to see her face.
“Your Breas?” Maya managed a feeble laugh. “Yeah. He also helped put together the binding illusion.”
“So what happened back there?”
Maya slumped against him, her face buried in his chest. With a shiver, she said, “Henry happened.” And then she explained how all the key drawings she’d ever made, Adam’s, his and yes, Henry’s, were all linked. And that link could break the binding illusion, dragging Adam’s perceptions back into reality.
“If it had worked, then Adam would be trapped in his fantasy and couldn’t bother anybody, including Octel, again.”
Benjamin nodded and worked his fingers through her silky straight hair, as she told him what had happened since he’d left her.
“And then Henry happened,” he said, breathing a weary sigh. He felt her tremble with the ghost of a sob. “It was a great plan, Maya.” He kissed the top of her head. “You couldn’t have stopped Henry from touching Adam.”
“But we might have worked something out, if Maya had been honest.”
The voice came from right behind them, in the black shadows of the building. A tall, dark shape slid out of the murk and resolved into someone vaguely familiar.
“Breas?” Benjamin said.
“You never mentioned Henry,” Breas said menacingly, moving to within just a few feet of the pair.
“I—I was ashamed.”
“You should be,” Breas said irritably, though Benjamin thought he detected a note of weary disappointment in the vampire’s voice.
“Leave her alone.” Benjamin squinted at Breas. “And, uh, thanks for helping her,” he added hastily.
It was difficult to tell in the inky darkness, but he sensed the vampire’s attention shift away from Maya and him. “What are they doing?” he asked, knowing the vampire’s hearing could reach for miles. “Adam and—”
“Tripping over their own feet,” Breas replied, “but getting friskier every minute. Like hounds on the fox’s scent.”
“And we’d be the foxes.” Benjamin closed his eyes and then opened them quickly when he found total darkness only made his head spin faster. His teeth chattered hard and he clung to Maya. Why was he so bone tired?
“Guess I could kill Adam,” the vampire said, his attention shifting away again. “Except it could kill you too.”
“The link,” Maya said.
“The link,” Breas agreed.
Benjamin stared at his mentor’s faint silhouette, his mind racing. Here was Maya, warm in his arms, where she belonged. This was where his heart lived, where it would live forever.
But back in that office was Adam Sayres, who would never give up, never hesitate to torment their friends and family, never let them live in peace. Running away to some far-flung corner of the earth was no option, bound as he was to Adam.
Up till now, Fading had been his childish retreat, a coward’s response. When the going got tough, Benjamin Black dreamed of getting to EverVerse. And now Fading was courageous? If so, he was still a coward, desperately afraid of a lonely eternity without Maya. But what choice did he have?
“If there’s a way there, there’s a way back,” he said, kissing Maya deeply and quickly and stepping away from her. Breas watched him, utterly motionless as only a vampire could be.
“Benjamin?” Maya said.
Trying to suppress the chattering of his teeth, Benjamin searched his brain for the few words in Elvish he knew. She’s going to hate me for this. At least I hope she will, because maybe she’ll move on quicker. I hate me for this.
In broken Elvish, he said to Breas, “Hold her. With you. Follow. She cannot.” He groped one last time and finished, “Please.”
In a heartbeat, Breas stood right behind Maya. Benjamin scooped the portfolio off the trash bin and backed away.
Maya realized what Benjamin was going to do just as Breas wrapped his arms around her. “No,” she said. “No, no, no!” As she struggled in Breas’s iron grip, Benjamin turned away. Breas muttered “Shhh,” in a strangely kind tone.
Benjamin, his legs burning with weariness, began to run back to the office.
The exit door was locked from the outside, but Benjamin managed an unlock spell and pulled the heavy door open. Inside it was just a few degrees warmer and his teeth still chattered. He paused long enough to pull the first portfolio sleeve, which contained his key drawing, from the rest, careful not to touch the actual drawing.
Peter stuck his head out of the doorway. Seeing Benjamin, he let out a string of colorful curses and fumbled for his gun.
Benjamin held his hands up in surrender and advanced slowly. Something about Benjamin’s demeanor silenced the little man and he stood aside and let the tall thief enter the office.
Adam sat on the desk, facing the door, shoulders slumped, hands on the desk’s edge, his handsome face pale and unusually worn. The portfolio containing his drawings still sat on the desk behind him. “That’s close enough,” he said to Benjamin. At his nod, both Henry and Peter leveled their guns at Benjamin.
“You win,” Benjamin said, holding his key drawing up in the weak light.
“I always win,” Adam answered, regaining some of his usual hubris. “What trick is this, brother?”
“No trick. This is my key drawing. This is what binds me to the Real. The rest of the drawings are irrelevant.” He gestured at the portfolio behind Adam. “The top drawing in there is your key drawing. Give me that drawing. Take this one and burn it and you’re in the Real forever.”
“That’s clever, brother.” Adam smiled without his usual faux geniality.
“It’s true. Breas got us the second volume of Lore of the Formed.”
“Why would I believe you?” Adam shrugged and looked at Henry. “I think I’d rather have Henry blow your head off. Then I’ll pin my drawing to your corpse, burn all your drawings and send you to EverVerse.”
Henry braced the shotgun against his shoulder, ready. Benjamin blinked at the end of the barrel. I don’t want to die. But if Breas’s suspicions were true, his death might mean Adam’s as well.
“Will I Fade if I’m dead?” He faced Adam. “I doubt it. Meat doesn’t Fade. It rots.” He held the drawing out to Adam. “Take it. Give me yours. If it doesn’t work, you’ve still got a whole portfolio of art to burn.” He tossed the rest of his portfolio on the floor before Adam for emphasis.
Adam regarded him for a moment and then shrugged. He rose, took two quick steps toward Benjamin, snatched the drawing and returned to his seat on the desk. “Get the first drawing from that portfolio,” he said to Peter, “and give it to him.”
Peter, still unsteady on his feet, did as he was told.
“Fold the drawing and put it in your jeans pocket,” Adam said to Benjamin. Grinning at Peter, he said, “Got a light?”
Peter’s yellow teeth flashed, his eyes sparkly with gleeful malice. “Yeah, boss. Right here.”
Benjamin watched as the lighter sparked to life and Adam moved flame and drawing together. Then the portfolio sleeve melted and the hungry little flame began to devour his key drawing.
Chapter Thirty-one
Maya never thought of herself as a damsel in distress, fainting at the slightest provocation. But for the third time in a few days, her vision started to darken. The sight of Benjamin leaving, his intent all too clear, her trapped in the unyielding grasp of the vampire, stole all the blood from her head.
“Please,” she said, talking to hold off the faint, “let me go. I
didn’t even get to say goodbye.” She tried to turn and look at his face, but pinned tightly with her back to his chest, it was impossible. Remembering the shock spell, she reached for the magic in her blood, but found nothing, not even the faintest vibration. Besides, she had lost the little piece of paper.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
The vampire didn’t answer right away. Finally he said, “Because he asked.”
Maya bit her lip, trying to find clarity in the pain. “He asked you…in Elvish.”
“Yes.”
“He said he couldn’t speak Elvish.”
The vampire’s chest moved with a faint laugh. “Trust me. He can’t.”
“He looks up to you, you know?”
“Everybody looks up to me. I’m wonderful,” Breas said.
“No, you’re not. You’re horrible,” Maya replied, not really meaning it.
“That too,” he said agreeably.
Her light-headedness passed, but so too did the adrenaline that had kept her going. The vampire’s steely grip held her on her feet. The air around them was frigid, carrying the humid remnants of snow. In the distance, cars whooshed along the interstate.
Behind her, Breas shifted abruptly and she felt his grip loosen. “That’s not good.”
“What?” He had released her, but now free, she stood swaying, lost.
Then she felt it too, a deep shifting in the ground, currents in the air, and something unraveling inside her, squeezing her heart like a vise. Clutching her chest with one hand, she gasped and leaned her other hand on the garbage bin. Even the bin’s cold metal surface suddenly seemed alive, vibrating.
And then whatever gripped her let go. She wheezed like a chain smoker.
“Crap,” said Breas. He yanked her down and off her feet so fast, her knees cracked. “Get down,” he said, rather after the fact.
The ground rumbled once, hard, shaking the building. There was a pause, like a singer taking a breath, and then the percussive blast of an explosion. The garbage bin, which took the force of the explosion, shifted several inches, pushing them along. Maya cringed as pieces of the jewelry story whizzed by like bullets and pummeled the garbage bin.
The assault of debris stopped, followed by a couple of minutes of crashing and snapping as something structural collapsed.
“Big boom,” Maya said, remembering. “The opening of a portal releases tremendous energy.”
“You think?” the vampire said wryly.
“Something’s burning.” Maya rose, her knees protesting, and she timidly peeked over the garbage bin. The jewelry store, or what was left of it, was now rapidly being consumed by flames. The surrounding stores showed increasing damage the closer they were to the blast site. The ones immediately next door had completely collapsed, and also started to catch fire. She watched, fascinated by the excited flames that bounced along the hard, jagged edges of crumbled building, softening the lines of destruction.
“Denial,” she thought out loud with strange clarity. “I’m in the denial stage.” A burning timber flared and then crumbled, falling in a shower of sparks. “He’s gone. But I don’t believe it.” Behind her, the vampire said nothing.
In that small moment, she felt nothing, just confusion at the absence of grief.
A slow breeze, generated by heat from the fire, carried smoke, acrid with the charred particulate stuff that makes up buildings—drywall, paint, plastic and linoleum. Her burning eyes closed and behind her lids she saw Benjamin’s face. “I love you,” he’d said before he left with Adam, leaving her standing alone in Octel’s storage unit.
“I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back,” she said and her frozen emotions thawed, icy dams giving way to loud, gasping sobs. She couldn’t cry hard enough; there was no way to release the wealth of misery that swelled and swelled inside her chest. Crying was a bright agony but she couldn’t bear to be without the drowning, claustrophobic comfort of blubbering grief.
She felt a heavy arm around her shoulders. Awkward, comfort not being a vampire’s skill. But she sagged against him and wailed into his chest.
“So much for denial,” Breas said.
She cried until she was out of breath and then cried again.
“Enough,” Breas said after a few minutes. When she didn’t stop, he grabbed the back of her jacket and shook her like a terrier with a rat. “Would you shut up. I can’t hear myself think.”
He dropped her and she nearly fell over, her tongue throbbing where she’d bit it. Shocked by his sudden cruelty, she leaned back against the garbage bin, blinking smoky tears. In the distance, she heard the whine of sirens. Wiping her eyes, she battled sobs, struggling for control, tasting her own blood.
Then she noticed the vampire’s expression, visible now in the light of burning buildings. His head cocked to the side, firelight in his dark eyes, he stared at the destroyed buildings with a bemused expression on his face.
Bemusement gave way to surprise, making him look almost human. “Wow.” He grinned. “Cockroaches and thieves,” he said to her in explanation, before heading toward the ruins of the mall, leaving a baffled Maya alone, the tears on her face drying in salty streaks in the fire-warmed winter air.
Chapter Thirty-two
At eleven o’clock in the morning, Maya awoke in the hospital in a semiprivate room. Two emotions ran through her. First, surprise that she’d fallen asleep in the uncomfortable chair, and second, hope edged with growing anxiety.
A twisted muscle in her neck protested as she sat up and stretched. “Hey,” she said, reaching for Benjamin’s hand. “I’m still here. How are you doing?”
His hand was warm and feeble magical energy radiated from his skin. Though she’d hoped for something more, she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond. She leaned against the bed, lifting the back of his hand to her mouth, inhaling his scent.
He had a skull fracture, but so far there was no indication of hemorrhaging. Despite an otherwise optimistic prognosis, Maya was still sick with worry. Dr. Jones hadn’t expressed outright concern, but Maya got the impression she thought Benjamin should have woken up by now.
Maya moved back a little, studying his hand, following a line from the knuckles and over the knob of his wrist. Other than a few light scratches, his right arm was uninjured. A white bandage on his left forearm covered a deep cut and the seven stitches that closed it. Red hair stood out at crazy angles from the gauze around his head. Her gaze wandered to the cast on his right leg as her thoughts turned to his persistent state of unconsciousness.
Dr. Jones had described his brain waves as a little odd, but in the normal range with none of the characteristics of coma. It was strange, the doctor had observed, that he hadn’t shown any response to any stimuli, behaving like someone in a deep coma.
An ominous possibility troubled her. What if part of his mind had been stripped away and been taken with Adam and Henry to EverVerse?
Breas had found Benjamin half buried under the mall’s porch, where he must have been trapped as he fled the building. The fire department had later found the charred remains of Peter Angel in the jewelry store. No sign of Adam or Henry.
The vampire had stuck around long enough to convince—with the help of Mesmer—the officials on site that Benjamin had just arrived for a handyman job when the building took the liberty of collapsing in on itself. With daybreak threatening, the vampire removed himself from everyone’s memories, slithered into the shadows and disappeared. To Maya’s dismay, the vampire had refused to heal Benjamin, insisting that the thief needed medical science, not magic.
The door opened with a little squeak and a nurse strolled in, pushing a wheelchair. He smiled absently at Maya and headed for Benjamin’s roommate. Because of the curtain that provided the partial privacy, Maya couldn’t see what was happening, but she heard the nurse help the man into the chair, and a mention of tests. The two left the room, leaving Maya alone with Benjamin.
She stared at the door, thoughts turning to the possibili
ty that the person in the bed was just an empty husk. In her hand, Benjamin’s hand twitched. Maya turned and panned over his impassive face. She squeezed his hand. No reaction. Perhaps it had been her imagination.
The bright hope that had blazed through her started to fade. Then his hand moved, this time sliding somewhat out of hers.
“Benjamin.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Benjamin. Ben?”
His chest rose and then fell in a long sigh. “Most people call me Ben, but I prefer Benjamin.” With some effort, he opened his eyes. He studied her, recognition absent.
“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Do you know who I am?”
He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, blinking away grogginess. “My gorgeous girlfriend, I hope.”
“Well, yes, but…” Maya turned as the door squeaked. Dr. Jones, a handsome woman with short blond hair shot with gray, strolled into the room.
“Sleeping Beauty is awake,” said the doctor.
“Hi,” Benjamin said. He scanned the room, taking in his surroundings. Sensing his concern, Maya rubbed his hand and smiled reassuringly.
The doctor began asking Benjamin questions, assessing his cognitive state. “What year is it?”
Benjamin’s bruised face tightened with confusion. He spoke deliberately, but his answer was right. Maya let out the breath she’d been holding.
“And what day is it?”
“Well,” Benjamin said, “the thing is, I don’t keep good track of dates. The nineteenth of December?”
The doctor laughed. “And what’s your fiancée’s name?”
“Whuh-what?” Confusion and concern took his face and he looked at Maya. She smiled through an embarrassed grimace and gave him a weak wave.
All emotion left his face for an instant then he turned back to the doctor, face suddenly boyishly smug. “Maya Lien Stephenson.”