Got Luck

by Michael Darling

  Only a minute or two after being sliced in half and he was healing already. I suppressed a laugh but it came out anyway.

  Through gritted teeth, Caimiléir asked, “What is so funny?”

  “Somewhere in the Deamhan realm, there’s a chunk of Brón’s butt!”

  I laughed some more.

  “Prince Luck, I envy your ability to find humor in such a circumstance.”

  The deamhan. It lives?

  Yep. We’re having tea and crumpets.

  Summon me!

  Can’t do that. Caimiléir and I are busy killing Brón.

  No! Béil sounded desperate. I must. Help thee!

  You also want to kill Caimiléir.

  For his crimes!

  I can’t allow that.

  It is our law!

  But it’s not human law. You can’t be judge, jury, and executioner.

  Thou deniest me. My vengeance. I have. Waited. For centuries!

  This is my realm.

  And all. I have. Offered? Does. None of it. Appeal to you?

  Of course it did. Not so much the courtesan part. Maybe the part where I’d be wealthy and contented and be needed by my father. Certainly the part that would allow Erin and I to be together.

  No.

  Thou art. Stubborn. And stupid.

  Yes, I am. Goodbye, Béil.

  Caimiléir looked at me, waiting. His face was ashen and his skin was clammy. He didn’t look well at all.

  “Is Béil communicating with you?”

  “Yes. She might give up now.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Caimiléir said feebly. “I have known her for hundreds of years and she is nothing if not persistent.”

  “She wants both you and Brón dead.”

  Caimiléir nodded. “I know.” He looked over at the deamhan who seemed to be gaining strength. “I have recovered a little more power. But it seems that Brón is healing now. We will need to strike before it is too late.”

  “What do we do?”

  “In a moment. First, tell me, how did you defeat the tattoo?”

  I hesitated. To explain, I’d have to tell him that I could see Stain. Then I’d have to tell him that I figured out he used a ward to hide his magical power. Then Keeper had placed a ward on me to make sure I’d be able to resist his tattoo. And Keeper had suggested my left buttock himself as a place to hide it and hadn’t hesitated at all when painting the sigil. It would be satisfying to point out that I’d used Caimiléir’s trick against him but I couldn’t forget that he was an extremely dangerous man.

  All those thoughts went through my head in the space of a second.

  “Sorry,” I replied. “That’s going to have to be my secret.”

  “Ah,” Caimiléir nodded. “But you did defeat my tattoo, which means you were only pretending to obey?”

  It was my turn to nod. “I had to pretend to be under your control until I could help my friends. After that, I hoped to keep the deamhan from being summoned. Now I have to kill him.”

  “In the next few moments, you will either succeed and become a hero or you will die.”

  I didn’t really have a response for that.

  “And what of me?” Caimiléir asked.

  I thought about it. “Did you have anything to do with Barry Mallondyke’s death?”

  “I put him in harm’s way,” he replied. “But MacPherson was responsible for his death and mutilation.”

  I had to believe what he said because he couldn’t lie. I replied, “It’s not my place to judge or condemn you. You’ve promised not to harm me or the people I care about for one-hundred years, and I also agree not to harm you for the same period of time.”

  “Very well. We attack then. You will need to collect the heart and bring it back. I cannot walk. Keep in mind that the deamhan will live as long as the heart is intact and while he lives he will try to bend you to his will.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Heart of a Deamhan

  “I will keep Brón off-balance as long as I can. Your fire will be effective enough if you can tighten its focus. Make it as hot and sharp as you can. In this realm, a deamhan has fewer defenses. Something like a fish out of water.”

  I pulled the silver piece out of my pocket. Erin had told me I could use it to concentrate my power. I hoped it would do the job I needed.

  Caimiléir looked at the piece of silver and recognized it. “Souvenir?” he asked.

  “Something like that.”

  “Carve out the deamhan’s heart,” Caimiléir said. “Do it quickly.”

  Brón was watching us with his many eyes. He had to know something was coming. We weren’t conspiring to throw him a birthday party. His gaze followed me as I walked around the perimeter of the ring, out of reach. His body was growing new sections now and little legs were sprouting like saplings.

  There were no words spoken but the deamhan’s command was clear. Surrender to me.

  Caimiléir hit him at that moment with a bolt of lightning. It seared the side of Brón’s face and several of the deamhan’s eyes exploded. Brón roared in fresh agony. I was caught by surprise as well.

  “I knew there had to be a zap spell!” I said.

  I held the silver shard and channeled a surge of power into it. “Tine!”

  A tight beam of white fire lanced from the point. It hit Brón in the chest. Brón was stunned for the moment by Caimiléir’s spell. I was worried my fire wouldn’t burn through the deamhan’s hard-plated flesh but, after a long moment, the light emerged from his back and burned into the concrete wall on the other side. The shard allowed me to control the power I had to maximize its efficiency. I felt a boundary within the shard. There was a limit to the amount of power it could accept no matter how hard I pushed—but the control was precise and the power it emitted was more than enough to cut through the deamhan’s hide.

  I carved an arc into Brón’s chest. Brón suddenly shook his head and roared. The effects of the Caimiléir’s spell were short-lived. I made the mistake of looking into the deamhan’s eyes.

  Kill the other.

  The thought was so clear. It made so much sense. Caimiléir had started this. He had been responsible from the beginning. It wasn’t the deamhan’s fault that he had been summoned, was it? The deamhan hadn’t even wanted this.

  It was Caimiléir’s fault.

  He couldn’t be trusted.

  Caimiléir must die.

  I turned my silver shard and aimed it at Caimiléir.

  Another blast of electrical energy slammed into the deamhan’s head. Brón howled.

  Wow.

  I pressed my hands against my temples and blinked a dozen times. The influence of the deamhan’s mind was incredibly hard to resist.

  I had almost tried to kill Caimiléir after I promised not to.

  I gritted my teeth and returned to carving Brón’s chest. I walked closer to the ring to better control the power of the silver shard and the pencil-thin shaft of flame that was mine to wield. I made it most of the way around the circular cut before Brón shook off the effects of Caimiléir’s spell again. This time the deamhan leaned down toward me and reached out one long-taloned hand to crush me. It was close. The deamhan’s hand slammed down and his talons stabbed the concrete and caught there. Brón had to try a couple of times to extricate his talons before the concrete broke apart. Brón raised his hands in a defensive gesture. I cut through his hands, removing some fingers and then Caimiléir hit him again with a third bolt.

  My heart was pounding hard and my breathing was becoming labored. My whole body ached. How much adrenaline can one person’s body produce? Or survive? I felt my own heart might leap out of my chest before I could get Brón’s heart out of his.

  Brón was losing the fight. He had lost a lot of blood now, which colored his chest and ran into t
he pit. Caimiléir’s spell had stunned him again and I had maybe a minute to finish the job. Brón had tilted backward and was lying half outside the ring on his back. I ran as fast as I could up the monster’s body, slipping twice on the blood.

  I held the silver shard in my teeth and grabbed the incision I had made with both hands. The muscles were heavy, and I grunted as I pulled Brón’s chest open. My fire had cut through Brón’s ribs in a couple of places, and I pulled the pieces of bone out and threw them down.

  The creature’s heart was there for the taking.

  A few quick cuts and I had it. The heart was bigger than my head and must have weighed fifty pounds. It was slippery and awkward to manage but I wrangled it out of the cavity.

  It was still beating. The force of the muscles contracting nearly made me lose my grip. I’d never be able to carry it down so I threw it in Caimiléir’s general direction. It plopped onto the concrete with a wet smack.

  Brón snapped back to his senses as I slid down his belly and landed on the ring, dangerously off balance. I almost fell into the pit before catching my balance and jumping. I landed in the swamp. My body begged me to stop and rest in the cool water.

  Brón curved his body and made a leap for the opening overhead. His hands caught the lip of the concrete and he started to pull himself up. We had his heart but he was still getting away. The hole above was the only place my ward didn’t cover. The gap there was too big.

  I yelled at Caimiléir, “Hit him!”

  Caimiléir looked exhausted and waxy and pale. “Can’t,” he said. “Nothing left.”

  Really?

  I focused the flame at Brón’s remaining fingers. I cut through enough of them that he lost his grip. He swiped at the concrete anyway and broke off huge chunks of it. Brón landed halfway out of the pit and the impact felt like an earthquake. More concrete fell from the ceiling, crashing onto the floor and splashing into the pool.

  Brón stopped moving.

  I scrambled to the deamhan’s heart and dragged it over to Caimiléir.

  For a minute, it was all I could do to stay upright and pant. Finally, I was able to ask, “How much of this thing do we have to eat?”

  Caimiléir’s eyes were closed and he opened them halfway and barked in a laugh that was curt and bitter.

  “It’s much larger than I thought,” he said.

  “What did you expect?” I replied. “Huge deamhan, huge heart.”

  “I didn’t give it much thought, I admit. I was not prepared for a change in plans.”

  Great. Spiffy.

  “Well, there isn’t enough steak sauce in the world to make this taste any better, so . . .” I bit into the end of the deamhan’s heart and tore off a piece.

  “Nasty,” I said. “What kind of wine goes with this?”

  Caimiléir chuckled. I felt sick.

  Brón woke up.

  His bellow was the longest and loudest one yet and it shook the ground. More chunks of concrete fell from the ceiling. Some of them fell too close for comfort.

  “We better move,” I said.

  COME TO ME.

  Without even looking in Brón’s eyes, the compulsion swept over me.

  I resisted though. Even though I was standing up and my feet were moving slowly in the direction of the pit, I resisted.

  I was rather proud of myself, in fact. The deamhan couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I’d just go stand over by the pit and then he’d see how well I resisted. That would show him.

  I am my own master. And I am a genius.

  Of course, if I were closer to Brón he’d be able to see that. Not that I had any plans to be getting anywhere near . . .

  I fell into the swamp.

  The water got up my nose and into my eyes.

  I stood, coughing and spitting.

  Somehow, I’d walked thirty yards unaware.

  What am I doing?

  Maybe it was the practice I’d gotten with Madrasceartán, but my reflexes were quick. I barely saw the blow coming. Brón’s maimed hand missed my head by a fraction of an inch as I ducked beneath his swing. I backed up, tripping over my own feet, and tumbled back into the pool.

  Brón was looking pretty spry for a beast without a heart. I sloshed to the side of the swamp and turned. Miraculously, I hadn’t dropped the silver shard and I aimed it at the center of the deamhan’s forehead. He saw the light bursting from my weapon and dodged. My silver fire hit him between the eyes, but his movement made the beam rake across his brow. Brón howled. He struck at the ring around the pit with what remained of his fist. Diamonds flew, glittering fire cascading in all directions.

  I’d had enough. I’d blind him first and then I’d remove his head and then I’d sever his arms. We’d see how long it took him to regenerate a brain. I took aim at a row of eyes and . . . nothing happened.

  I had no more juice.

  Poodles.

  It would only take a moment for Brón to realize I’d exhausted my power. Then he’d chase me down in a corner of this chamber and I’d be toast.

  What could I do?

  I couldn’t use my pendant. Its magic had been obliterated.

  Great. I could summon Béil. She’d be able to come through the ward since I’d only learned to make one that kept everything in. Not out. I believed her when she said she would be able to kill the deamhan. All it would cost would be my integrity and Caimiléir’s life. Neither of those things was looking too worthwhile at the moment.

  I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  All these thoughts flashed through my mind in the space of a breath.

  At the edge of the pool, the water was only a foot deep. I was standing in the water with my feet buried in muck. But it was good muck. Rich, earthy muck. Muck of the land I had learned to love. The only land I really knew. This realm, the mortal realm, my home.

  The home that was blessed with life. And power.

  It was there, just beneath the surface, calling to me.

  Erin had warned me. To touch the power of earth was to open myself to annihilation. I’d make a great firework though. If I could be sure the explosion would turn Brón into kibble, I’d do it. Although if it worked, Caimiléir would die as well.

  I looked down. The only tools I had were my mind, my body, and a silver shard.

  A shard that controlled power.

  A whole new set of mental magnets lined themselves up and clicked together.

  If the silver regulated output, why not input?

  Brón had cocked his wounded head and was looking in my direction, thinking. I had to act fast or I risked falling under his will again.

  My hands were shaking. I was desperately weak and afraid. If this didn’t work, I would die. I couldn’t see Caimiléir from here. I was alone. Just me and Brón.

  And the land I loved.

  I thrust the silver into the muck and hoped.

  The power of Earth was eager to join with me. The silver shard was of the earth herself and the earth had to work with it. But the power behind the shard was massive. And it wanted to surge up all at once instead of being drawn in a sip. After what seemed like forever, the earth conceded to the connection. Power leapt up in a line through the silver point and I felt myself being pulled down at the same time, anchored to the land beneath me.

  I looked up. Brón saw I was stymied. He opened his mouth and his rows of teeth clacked against each other in anticipation.

  I let the power in.

  Several things happened at once. First, I did not explode in my own personal supernova. Second, Brón came at me like a freight train with a hundred knives in front. Third, I extended my free hand and the power that erupted from me was a column of purest flame, an incandescent searchlight.

  Brón’s head evaporated.

  No ash. No flying gore. In one mome
nt, Brón was roaring and full of teeth and horns and eyes and in the next moment there was nothing.

  I felt so justified.

  The earth’s power illuminated every corner of my being. I was full of light. I cast the light on the deamhan and more chunks of him burned away in righteous flame. The fire consumed the deamhan, erasing it, transforming wicked flesh into holy oblivion. I stood and the tether of power followed me as I walked. The silver point remained down, pulling the earth’s power up into me. My open hand swept around the room. Brón’s shoulders and arms and torso ceased to exist. I climbed to the edge of the pit and burned away the insect body, cleansing every trace from the depths of the vile pit at my feet.

  Diamonds, symbols of greed. Diadems of lust and oppression and dominion. Those were next to go. I burned them out of the ring. Every glittering facet was anathema to me for what they represented, what they had been used for. They were tainted by evil magic and had to be cleansed in the fire that had made them. When the ring was empty, I ascended the platform with its box of sparkling sins and I cleansed those too.

  More concrete was falling. My fire was too much for the ceiling to withstand, and the stray light had turned patches of the room to dust. There was rubble around me and more was falling, but I was not afraid.

  I cast about, searching for more wickedness to purify. Caimiléir! Servant of evil! I could not find him. Perhaps he was buried now, beneath the fallen roof.

  I was so tired. The light inside me had burned away all my impurities. It was too much. I was filled with holy fire but my flesh was growing weak. I had not been consumed in an instant, but I suddenly felt that the power coursing through me was stronger than I could bear. With great effort, I unclenched my fingers and dropped the silver shard. The connection between the silver and the earth winked out.

  I was falling.

  As I fell, I saw several beams of light catching the motes of dust.

  The light was coming from my eyes and my mouth. The light stored within me had to escape. I had to let it go. It gradually drifted away, and I watched it leave me with a feeling of wistfulness. It was so beautiful.

  Then there was no more light except the stars and sky. A solitary cloud directly above me showed traces of pink.