The Dark Matters Quartet

by Claire Robyns

  “That is a problem,” Kelan agreed. “And I’m not avoiding it. I’m focussing on what is within my control.”

  “And that is?”

  “There’s no time to recruit reinforcements from Cragloden.” Kelan scrubbed his jaw, then rubbed that hand up to his brow and dropped his head a fraction. “As you’ve pointed out, the Red Hawk was built to run, not to stay and fight.”

  Greyston swallowed the insult with a grimace.

  “So what we’re going to do,” Kelan informed him in a calm, steady voice,” is exactly nothing. We will observe, evaluate the scene and then determine the next course of action.”

  “We’ve slowed down!” Lily flew into the cabin, grabbing on the door jamb to halt her skid.

  She’d scraped her hair back into a fresh, neat bun, but the rest of her was a mess. Her reddened cheek seemed inflamed, much worse after Armand’s ministrations. The tails of her coat were torn, the collar shredded. The leather over her knees worn thin, almost threadbare, the tear down her calf now ripped wider to gape open. One boot had been sawn off into ankle length.

  Lily wound her way from behind them. “What happened?”

  “We’re at the coast,” Kelan said.

  His eyes followed, but he made no move to reach for her as she stepped up to the shield beside him and pressed her forehead to the glass.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  Greyston drawled, “There is no plan.”

  She spun about.

  “The plan,” Kelan countered, “is to head north along the coastline but keep a sharp eye on deeper waters.”

  Once again, his confidence rattled Greyston’s suspicions. “North? You sound quite sure of that.”

  “Or south,” he said with just a trace of weariness. “Take your pick, Greyston, your guess is as good as mine. Ten miles in one direction, then the other. The only thing I’m sure of is, if there’s a portal at Black Rock, it will be near enough to draw power from the Cairngorm Tear.”

  Curling a hand over the rudder gear, Greyston guided the nose of the Red Hawk into a northerly heading.

  Armand joined them, standing at the back of Kelan’s chair.

  “Where’s Neco?” asked Greyston.

  “I sent him in search of a pair of breeches for Lady Lily,” Armand said. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”

  Lily turned a scowl on him. “I wish everyone would stop fussing about me.”

  A grin touched Greyston’s mood at the image of Lily swimming in his breeches. “I’m not fussing.”

  Kelan looked at her, saying nothing.

  “Precisely,” Armand said, eyes narrowing on the back of Kelan’s head. “Someone has to take care that you’re not walking about half-dressed, my lady. It is the middle of winter.”

  Lily’s scowl crumpled. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll be of no use to anyone if I freeze to death.”

  “Lily…” Kelan’s hand came out, then retracted into folded arms. “He didn’t mean it like that,” he murmured.

  “No, of course not.” She held his gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m not quite myself today.”

  “Understandable.”

  Her scowl returned as she looked at him, then she shook her head and made her way past Armand. “I won’t be long.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Greyston called after her. To Kelan, the husband who seemed damned too reluctant at offering her any support, he said, “She looks strong on the outside, but I know Lily. Inside, she’s falling apart.”

  “You’re wrong.” Kelan stood to take Lily’s place at the shield. “How many miles?”

  Greyston checked the dial. “Six.”

  “This feels off.” He shifted to rotate as his gaze scanned the full vista. “You were right. We should be heading south. Now.”

  “I’ve never followed orders blindly in my life,” Greyston informed him as he took the ship into a graceful one hundred and eighty degree arc. “We went north first because I happened to agree with your assessment.”

  “That being?” A thread of amusement lightened Kelan’s tone.

  Greyston grinned at him. “We’re sailing in the dark without a bloody clue.”

  Just as they bisected their starting point, Lily returned in black breeches with the bottoms billowing where they were tucked into her boots. “Nothing yet?”

  Kelan shook his head.

  “Maybe Agares crashed into the side of a mountain,” Greyston said dryly. “We’re sure as hell due a bit of luck.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” Lily exclaimed. “My head really is in a muddle. I’ve been twiddling my thumbs when I should have been searching the demon glass.”

  “You weren’t twiddling your thumbs,” Greyston reminded her. “You were getting yourself patched up.”

  “Lily, stop.” Kelan put a hand to her arm as she braced against the wall and bowed her head. “I would have suggested the demon glass myself if I thought you’d see anything more than Agares and a ship and miles of indeterminate coastline.”

  Her eyes lifted to him. “I have to try.”

  “Not right now, you don’t.”

  “She won’t listen,” Greyston predicted, turning to face forward again. “She never does.”

  “Wait.” Armand leaned over his shoulder, pointing straight ahead. “What is that?”

  A hulking shadow, jutting perpendicular to the shore like a phantom beached whale.

  Everyone crowded closer.

  “The Gossamer?” Lily said breathlessly.

  Kelan was more assertive. “The bridge.”

  The Gossamer hovered in a breach position, the nose propped over the edge of a sea-battered cliff, the other end of the ship dangling mid-air. At their rapid approach, a dark funnel took shape, reaching from the middle of the ship all the way down into the ocean.

  “What on earth?” Lily said. “Are they siphoning sea water into the ship?”

  “Not likely,” Armand replied.

  Greyston grabbed a pair of long-focal binoculars, but hesitated. They were gaining on the shadow too fast and he wasn’t sure of Agares’ reach. When it came to demons, the Red Hawk was a potential death trap. He slammed the throttle and engaged the oscillatory rotors to bring them to a softly-humming idle.

  Then he put the binoculars to his eyes.

  The hull door near the dangling end had been lowered and a thick, black stream flowed between it and the ocean. Logic dictated the stream was flowing downward, but everything he knew about Agares and her plans told him it flowed up.

  “They’re siphoning something,” he said. “Thick and black like liquid coal.” He focussed on the bottom of the stream and cursed. “It’s coming from a rock…juts about ten foot above the waves.”

  “Black Rock,” Kelan stated.

  Greyston swung his view toward the mainland and the cliff. What he saw, he could hardly comprehend, he couldn’t… His blood turned to ice inside his veins. “Sweet Jesu’.”

  “Well?” demanded Kelan. “What is it?”

  Men, women, streaming out the nose of the Gossamer as thick and fast as the liquid coal sucked up from the rock. Swarming over the clifftop in their hundreds, thousands, until the focal image blurred into a landscape overrun by ants.

  His head still turned to the mainland, Greyston handed the binoculars over to Kelan.

  “People,” he told Lily and Armand. “Hundreds. Thousands. Flooding from the Gossamer onto the cliff.”

  “People?” Lily grabbed him by the arm and shook. “Human?”

  He looked at her. The flow suggested not. The rate of influx said no. Still, his mind refused to accept. “Can you take a look?”

  Kelan hung the binoculars around his neck, his knuckles fisted white as he gripped the back of the chair. “Yes, if you would,” he said to Lily, his voice a hollow rendition of Neco. “If you could take a look…to confirm.”

  Lily paled, her reddened cheek draining to chalk-white. Her hand still gripping Greyston, she closed her eyes.

  Armand moved close
r to Kelan. “What are we confirming? Kelan? Thousands of demons?”

  “I don’t…” Kelan shook his head. “Armand, I don’t know how to fix this.”

  He sounded broken. Fallen.

  Don’t you dare, Greyston wanted to shout. Don’t you dare fall apart on us now. But he didn’t.

  He didn’t blame the man.

  And while they stood here, how many more demons flooded into Scotland?

  “We have to try,” he said.

  The two men looked at him, waiting…? As if he had some kind of plan.

  Lily came out of the demon glass with a gasp, swallowing too much air.

  “Not good news, I presume?” Greyston swivelled the pilot chair around and pressed her down into it. “Demons?”

  “So many, I was drawn into one massive blur.” She put a hand to her chest as she looked from him to Kelan. “Agares stood out. The canvas of my demon glass pulsed with layer upon layer of tunnels, but Agares’ tunnel was stronger, centred, with all the others swirling around. She’s on land, watching her followers, her army, come through. Dear Lord, how do we defeat them all?”

  “One at a time,” Neco said from the doorway.

  Everyone turned to stare at him.

  “Elaborate,” Greyston said.

  He processed for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if there are one or a thousand demons. Each one will need to be individually fought and banished. A thousand will merely take longer.”

  “And a thousand more opportunities to kill us before we can finish them off,” Lily snapped.

  “No, that’s a good, sound strategy,” Kelan said. He stroked his chin, nodding slowly, thinking, starting a short pace in the cramped space. “That,” he said to Neco, “is how wars have been won in the past. One battle at a time.”

  “In theory,” Greyston grunted, his eyes on the black funnel that hadn’t faded, hadn’t thinned out, in the slightest. “Our odds are decreasing by the second. By God, how many demons are down there?”

  “More than I ever imagined,” Kelan said.

  “We have to shut off that siphon.”

  “I’m open to suggestions.”

  Greyston stared at the oversized warship, the demon spirits—or whatever the hell they were—streaming into the middle of the belly… “The blue prints Armand brought from Winterberry, they showed the Gossamer was reinforced stern and aft. But the belly…” He brought his gaze to Kelan. “The belly is vulnerable. We could ram it. At the right speed, the force of impact might compensate for the Red Hawk being smaller and lighter.” He looked at Neco. “Is that right?”

  “According to Mr. Newton, yes, although I have no record of him applying that theorem to airships.”

  Armand gave a small cough. “Before we get carried away, are you expecting the Red Hawk to shoot straight through the belly of the Gossamer and sail away?”

  Neco shook his head. “The Red Hawk will break apart on impact.”

  “Or remain lodged in the warship,” Greyston said. “But not if I’m going fast enough when I hit. I think I can push the Red Hawk to a great enough speed to split the Gossamer down the middle.”

  “And what happens when the Red Hawk breaks apart?” Lily jumped to her feet. “You’re dumped into the ocean, Greyston. But that’s just fine, isn’t it?” she spat. “Because you’ll likely be dead anyway long before you hit the water.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kelan said. “Show me what I need to do, Greyston. This is my responsibility. It always has been. I will do it.”

  Lily turned her wrath on him. “And what about saving your precious world, Kelan? Who is going to do that when you’re gone? There are thousands…” She flung her arm out wide, waving an indiscriminate hand. “Thousands of demons that have already come through the portal.”

  “Archibald and Liam will lead my army,” Kelan said quietly, firmly, as if the subject were no longer up for discussion. “I have twenty McAllisters who have been trained since birth, like me.”

  “Perhaps,” Armand said, just as quietly, just as firmly, “but there is only one McAllister heir now with your father gone—” He faltered at the look shuttering down on Kelan’s face. “Good Lord, you forgot he was gone?”

  Kelan cursed, his jaw locked down in stone. “I did not forget,” he ground out. “It just takes some adjusting to what it means, how it affects my decisions.”

  “And what does it mean?” Lily asked, looking as confused as Greyston felt.

  “It means Kelan can’t die, not now, not yet,” Armand said. “It means he cannot—”

  “Armand,” Kelan said harshly.

  “He cannot,” Armand went on, “make this sacrifice no matter how much he obviously so clearly would love to. Tell them, Kelan.”

  “Please do,” Greyston said.

  He had no intention of putting anyone else at the helm, not for the Red Hawk’s last flight. Not ever. There was something to be said, everything to be said, about a Captain always going down with his ship.

  But he was curious.

  The McAllisters kept more secrets than a convent of nuns and seemed to think they had some God-given right to hide truths that affected others more than them. So yes, he was damned curious, and he had time to spare. There was no point in rewinding beyond the moment they’d first reached the coastline. Anything further back than that was just time spent sailing the Aether to get there.

  “They should know,” Armand spoke into Kelan’s silence, “why this cannot be you, why it must be Lord Adair. If you don’t tell him, Kelan, then I will.”

  “No.” Kelan rounded away from him. “I can’t ask this of Greyston. I never would.”

  Armand gave a heavy sigh. “Kelan McAllister is the last human left who can keep the Cairngorm Tear open.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Kelan muttered.

  “This isn’t only your responsibility, Kelan. With this many demons walking the earth, every person will have to fight or die.”

  Lily made an exasperated noise.

  “Greyston’s not doing anything,” Kelan reassured Lily.

  “The Cairngorm Tear will seal forever with one of two deaths,” Armand continued. “Gorgon, the demon who bartered the original deal between our worlds. Or the last remaining McAllister heir, the first-born direct descendent line from Kenleith McAllister. With Keither gone, that would be Kelan. On his death, the tear seals and every demon that has come through today will remain on this side.”

  Lily’s mouth went slack.

  So did Greyston’s. He’d heard Kelan speaking of sealing the tear when the last demon was banished, but he would never have imagined this was how it would be accomplished.

  But there was more. Greyston wondered if he’d missed something. Why Kelan? Why the McAllisters? Why had they been chosen to die for this particular cause when the time came?

  Do I even want to know?

  Deciding right now would be an excellent exit point, Greyston moved to stand in front of the Piping Control and closed his eyes, searching for the correct memory to rewind back to so he could try and limit the scale of damage.

  He saw himself bringing the Red Hawk into a gentle dive.

  “Now would be an excellent time to stop avoiding the most obvious problem,” he told Kelan.

  Kelan’s gaze slid his way, blank for a long moment until he blinked.

  “The Red Hawk doesn’t carry any cannon,” Greyston went on grimly. “We don’t even have a single rifle to share between us.” The craggy shoreline rushed up and he slammed the throttle to reduce speed.

  Greyston grabbed that memory, that point in time just before Lily would come rushing into the Pilot Cabin, and he rewound time…

  TWENTY

  Lily clenched her hands so tightly, her fingernails bit into her palms as Armand dabbed at her cheek again with the wad of cotton soaked in alcohol. Raking her skin with a glove of thorns might have been kinder. She winced, but refused to curse like a hoyden again.

  “I’m truly sorry, my lady.�
� Armand paused his torturous dabbing to give her a sympathetic look. “If I don’t get the dirt out, you’re at risk of infection.”

  “Don’t mind me,” she said thinly. “Apparently I have an abysmally low threshold of pain.”

  “Quite the opposite, I’d say.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The cut at my calf was so shallow,” she pointed out, “it barely grazed the muscle. You said as much. At the time, I assure you, I was convinced I’d been sliced to the bone.”

  “Precisely that,” Armand said. “You measure bravery by the depth of your wounds. In my book, that is a comparison no lady should ever have the experience or opportunity to make.”

  “This time last year,” Lily said with a small smile at his chivalry, “I would have been in complete agreement. Please continue.”

  She tensed at the sudden change in vibrations. “Wait. What is that?”

  Armand listened for a moment. “It sounds like the power has been reduced.”

  “We can finish this later.” Lily sprang to her feet and darted off across the cabin, over the Pilot Grid, swinging herself to an abrupt stop with a palm slapped on the doorjamb. “We’ve slowed down!”

  Greyston ran his eyes over her from head to toe with a look she could not place. A grin that barely touched his lips, but sent a bitterly sad shiver through her. The type of shiver her mother had always referred to as a ghost walking over one’s grave.

  She shook it off and wound her way around them. “What happened?”

  “We’re at the coast,” Kelan said.

  She didn’t look at him, but she knew his gaze followed her, she always could feel the dark intensity of his eyes when they were on her. He had folded her into him and she had felt safe. Not the kind of safe that would keep her from all harm. The kind of safe that made her feel that if she died, it would be okay. Everything and anything would be okay. His heart had beat against her cheek and she’d felt as if she’d come home.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with all those feelings.

  She couldn’t claim them, obviously, not unless she wanted a life of heart-wrenching stings and unintended rejection at every turn. And she couldn’t push them away, not when there was such a slim chance any of them would have any life at all for very much longer.