by Ramy Vance
8: Live.
As I stared at the fire breathing, berserker centaur blocking our path, I was beginning to doubt the possibility of that.
The centaur looked at me, and I expected him to say something or yell. But instead he roared.
And with that roar, he breathed fire.
Oh joy.
THE HEAVIEST BURDEN
Run, Kat. Run.
I had to lure the centaur away from the others so they could escape—which was exactly what Serena was doing right now.
As soon as she’d unleashed the centaur, she booked it out of there. Which was, after all, the right choice: we only had a few minutes before the whole place went boom.
No biggie.
I spun on the encantado. “Get Justin out of here. I’ll take care of My Little Pony.”
“But—” Isa began.
“No time,” I growled, turning back to the centaur. “Hey, big guy. Want some oats?”
That worked like a charm. The centaur charged at me, its massive hooves seeking to crush me under their considerable weight.
When I’d faced the centaur in the club, I had sought to get under him and delivered a well-placed shot to his underbelly—a centaur’s Achilles heel—but this centaur was bred for battle. Genetically engineered, actually—and just like the other one, his underbelly was also covered with dragon scales stronger than steel armor.
Plus he was fast. Don’t get me wrong, centaurs were normally fast, but this guy speed boarded on supernatural.
I dodged another swift kick and, running into the main room and jumping over a few rows of computer terminals, made my way to center stage like I was entering an arena or something.
Not that this area was designed as an arena. It was the central hub to the control room with several doors leading deeper and deeper into this modern dungeon.
To my right was the room where Justin was being held. And behind me was the room where that poor aqrabuamelu was being drained.
And for dramatic effect, I put on my father’s mask, adorning my mantle as the Divine Cherub. I honestly didn’t know if I’d win this one, but if this was to be my last fight, then let it be while wearing the mask of the man I loved most, while fulfilling my purpose, embracing it once and for all.
Egya would be proud.
I gave the centaur a Bruce Lee-style taunt as I prepared myself for the coming battle. I didn’t have to wait long; the centaur leapt over the terminals with a single bound, and from his fiery mouth he spat lava-hot spittle at me.
As in, literally.
I dodged the spittle and watched in horror as the ground lit up under its heat. “What the hell did these guys do to you?”
It wasn’t a legitimate question … I really wanted to know.
Whatever it was, they did something similar to Justin and only the GoneGods knew how many more.
I pointed my dirk at him, waiting for his next attack, taking comfort that in a few minutes this place would go up in flames and burn all the messed-uppedness of this place.
And that Isa, unimpeded by Serena or anyone else, would escape to wherever Egya had arranged for them to go. They would live a life on the run, but at least they’d live.
“Serena was playing god when she made you. Zeus would not approve,” I said as the centaur looked down at me. Evidently he was planning his attack, seeing that a furious lunge was something I could dodge. In other words, he was getting smart. More calculating.
And deadlier.
“Zeus and his pathetic cohort are gone. We have only this, and I am more powerful than I ever was. More complete.” He stretched out his chest and beat his gong-like hands against it. “If he were here now, I would challenge him for the right to rule.”
Over the past six months I had met wannabe gods … hell, even met a few dead ones. This guy didn’t come close to their power. But he had their ego.
And that was something I could use.
“Really?” I said. “More like you’d pull his carriage.”
The centaur brayed in anger.
“Nah, pulling his carriage is too good for you. More like act like his pack animal. You know, carry his luggage or—”
That did it. The centaur reared onto his hind legs before charging forward with the full force of his being. As he charged, he shimmied left and right, evidently trying to anticipate which direction I would tumble in my effort to dodge him.
But I didn’t dodge him. I let him charge at me, and timing my jump as perfectly as I could, I leapt up onto his chest and pivoted onto his shoulders, where I covered his eyes with the palms of my hands like some demented game of peek-a-boo.
The centaur reached up for me, grabbing me with both his hands, but I was small and on his back. He did manage to pull off my father’s mask, not that it mattered. I didn’t need the mask to do what came next.
As he fumbled to throw me off him, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and crashed into the holding pen where the aqrabuamelu’s husked-out body was still being pumped for the last of his venom.
The last of his venom …
As soon as the centaur crashed into his body, I pulled at the restraint that held the aqrabuamelu’s tail and plunged it into the centaur’s neck.
The centaur pulled back, but it was too late. Enough venom went into him and he started to fumble as the powerful being’s poison shut down his nervous system and stopped his heart.
The centaur died faster than I expected, and in his death throes he pulled so hard on the arachnid’s tail that he ripped it clear off at the joint.
Traces of the aqrabuamelu’s acidic blood spewed out of him. I guess being dead didn’t mean his blood was gone.
And his blood burned like acid.
I know because splashes of the burning liquid hit my neck and cheeks.
I felt my skin dissolve in the most hideous, horrific pain I’ve ever experienced in my three hundred years. And trust me: I’ve experienced some hellish pain as both a human and a vampire.
Through the agony, I knew I had only a few seconds to neutralize the acid or it would burn its way through my skull. Luckily, I had been in this room before.
Well, Isa had … and I had been right with her, watching carefully through the camera on her lapel.
I saw where everything was kept … including where a base agent was stored.
Smashing my elbow through the glass casing, I pulled out the liquid and poured it over my face. I felt the acid neutralize and knew that I wasn’t in danger of dying.
But my tongue also felt the absence of flesh, finding its way out of my mouth even though my lips were sealed.
There wasn’t enough foundation and blush in the world to cover this scar.
Not that it mattered. All that mattered now was that I got out of here.
This place was going to explode in a matter of minutes and, hideously burned or not, I needed to get out of here.
↔
I RAN through the empty halls of this place, retracing my steps as I did so. During the fight, I had lost track of time. I had no idea how many minutes were left until the explosives went off.
Did I have two more minutes?
One?
No idea.
Also, I may have stopped the acid from burning into my skull, but it still burned. A lot. Parts of my face were missing, it felt like my head was in flames and I was starting to blackout from the pain.
Hold on, Kat. Don’t stop now.
Up the stairs and down the hall, back through the security door we had met Isa at … and then down two more corridors, up one more flight of stairs and I’d be outside.
I made my way through what felt like Minos’ Labyrinth, expecting the ground to light up with every step I took. Thankful that every time my foot touched the floor, my world didn’t ignite in flames. All I could think as I ran was, Step, no boom.
Step, no boom.
Step, no boom.
I had to keep going. No matter how much I wanted to stop, lay down and never get ba
ck up again, I couldn’t. If I had a shot at life—disfigured as I might be—I would take it.
I was at the final stairwell where, at the top, I saw both Egya and Deirdre waiting for me.
Egya with his semi-transformed face and Deirdre with her lush blond hair and youthful cheeks.
But neither of them were happy when they saw me.
Egya wasn’t smiling. Instead, he had a look of absolute horror on his face.
Why? I had made it. I was almost outside.
But almost wasn’t enough.
I took one more step, and then I felt it. The first of the explosives going off.
Step. Boom.
The stairwell crumbled, and I felt the sensation of falling just before my world went dark.
And in that moment, I died.
THE LONG RIDE HOME
I ’d like to tell you that there is some light at the end of the tunnel or that your loved ones are there to meet you. I’d like to say that angels are playing harpsichords as the pearly gates open before you.
I’d like to tell you that something … anything happens.
But the truth is that all I saw in that moment was darkness.
Darkness and peace.
Then I felt what can only be described as being struck by lightning as the world suddenly came into view again.
And the pain returned. So much pain.
Deirdre and Isa stood over me. Deirdre’s face had aged and her flawless blond hair had strands of gray as her tears rode along the crevasse of her newly-formed crow’s feet that sprouted from the corners of her eyes.
An IV was in my arms as Isa stood over me like the healer that she was, her careful hands guiding me back to life.
My face hurt, my chest hurt. Every part of me was in pain.
And then I saw Egya, his eyes bloodshot with tears and worry. He pushed aside the other two, kneeling close to me, his hand in mine.
“Is she …?” he asked.
“I’m …” I started, but my voice wouldn’t come.
“Will she ...?” he repeated.
Isa checked my vitals again and nodded. “She will be fine. In time.” Isa looked down at me with pity in her eyes. Like she wasn’t staring at the me, me … but something else.
Something less.
“What?” I said, but I knew where that pity came from. My cheek had been burned with acid; my looks had been taken from me.
I’m not ashamed to say that part of me wished I had died back there, rather than live as this scarred human being.
The shallow part of me.
The rest of me was glad to be alive. There was so much more work to do.
I touched my cheeks and forced a smile. “This. Haven’t you heard, ladies … this is the latest fashion accessory. Scarred a la acid.” I tried to force a snotty French accent, but everything hurt too much to pull it off.
“I can burn more time—” Deirdre started.
“No. You have done enough.”
“But my pledge to you. My life for yours. Always.” She put a fist on her chest. The fae salute.
“No …” I said, taking her hand in mine. “Our lives for each other.”
I tried to sit up, but couldn’t. I was strapped down. “Where? Where are we?” Then I saw the metal, brown ceiling and knew exactly where we were. In the van I had ‘bought’ from the tattooed guy after Isa infiltrated the World Army facility.
I looked to the side and saw Justin hunched over in the corner. Asleep.
So he had made it, too. Good. He’ll be on the run, but he’ll be with Isa.
That was worth something.
And as for myself … well, I laughed (on the inside; on the outside I couldn’t even really move my face). But my chest constricted with my laughter, little exhalations leaving my chest.
I couldn’t help myself.
I laughed as I looked at the three concerned faces that looked down at me as if I had just died (well, I guess I did).
“What …? What’s so funny?” Egya said, his own lips parting with a slight smile.
“I was thinking about how we’re on the run now. And how much fight there is left. And then I thought about Scooby Doo and their van—the Mystery Machine. I always wanted my own Scooby van. And crew. Careful what you wish for, eh?”
Careful, indeed.
↔
THE NEXT THREE days were a whirlwind of insanity. Serena didn’t let up, employing all the resources of the World Army to find us. But try as she might, word had gotten out about what happened.
About what we had stopped.
That bought us a lot of good will … not only with Others, but some of the more moderate humans as well. They hid us and, if not that, lied on our behalf. At any given moment, we—me, Egya, Isa, Justin, Deirdre—were spotted in a hundred different locations all at once.
Eventually the search died down enough for us to part ways.
We found our way to Justin’s Mustang, and in the dead of night sent Isa and the boy with the impossibly beautiful eyes and thick lush hair on their way.
Egya had found the resistance in New York City, and they had promised to help them.
I knew they would … Isa was far too valuable to let fall into the hands of the World Army.
I would love to say that there was some grand goodbye. That I stood next to them and gave them some rousing speech about burdens and carrying the heaviest of weights.
That’s what my father would have done.
But I was still reeling from my scarred face.
And in my pain and self-pity, I watched them leave from a window of the Scooby van.
There was one moment, though. A single moment when Justin turned to the van and saluted me in the manner common to the old Scots. It was something I had told him about long ago, in one of the rare moments when I spoke to him about my father and how the other Divine Cherubs would always hold such high reverence for him.
They always saluted him with the highest respect. Ridged postures and proud eyes. That was how they always were with him.
Seeing that while lurking in the shadows as the monster I was, the monster they hunted, always filled me with pride for my father, shame and envy for myself.
I, too, wished to know what it felt like to have such respect.
Justin gave that to me. He did so with the generosity that was so common of the first human I ever loved.
↔
WITH ISA AND JUSTIN GONE, it was time for the rest of us to start … but I didn’t know what we were supposed to start.
Start fighting?
Hiding?
Running?
Organizing?
I had no idea. And my uncertainty filled me with a dread that consumed my recently returned soul.
The only constant I had was Egya. The boy from Ghana loved me. He loved me despite my hideously scarred face.
He loved me despite my turmoiled soul.
But his love wasn’t an answer to what came next. That was something I needed to find for myself.
And I did.
The answer—well, an answer of sorts—came to me a few days later when the three of us were holed up in a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Montreal.
Zoolander played on the motel’s cheap, bulbous TV, and Egya was trying to explain why it was funny to Deirdre. The changeling warrior couldn’t grasp it and the irony of how similar Deirdre was to Zoolander hadn’t escaped Egya and me.
That night I laughed. Laughed until it hurt.
Wiping away tears of joy, I went into the bathroom to reapply my running mascara (funny how I still applied makeup to my face, like I was still the same dainty girl I had been only weeks ago).
In the reflection of that motel mirror, I saw who I was.
Who I am …
Not a cutesy ex-vampire, but something more evolved.
And in that instant, I understood that although I didn’t know what the future held for me, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I keep striving.
Keep trying.
Keep evolving …
And as I stared in the mirror at my burnt face, I saw that both Egya and Deirdre now stood behind me. Fuck it. Whatever tomorrow holds, at least I won’t face it alone.
In answer to my thoughts, Deirdre slammed her fist against her chest.
And as for the boy with the annoying cackle and beautiful smile. Well, he simply nodded, bowing low before saying, “No girl ... no you won’t.”
KAT’S ADVENTURES WILL CONTINUE IN 2020!
KAT’S ADVENTURES are just beginning… She just graduated university, sort of, and now she’s on the road with Deirdre and Egya, trying to find the heaviest burden possible and continue her father’s good work.
But still, with this book, we’ve hit the end of a major chapter in her life and I won’t lie to you, I had to fight back the tears as I was writing that last chapter. I managed, barely … and a good thing, too, because I’m running out of coffee shops near me to work in.
Emotional blubbering aside, I wanted to take a moment here to answer the question I get over and over again is: Where does the GoneGod World come from?
Nearly sixty years ago, my father emigrated from Egypt to Canada. Even though he had an engineering degree, he spent the first few years of his life in this new land fixing up old Volkswagens and working for a gas station company calculating gas volumes—work that was far beneath his skills. But he worked his way up and eventually opened his own engineering firm.
Fast forward 10 years later, and he’s married, had a kid (me) and until eventually settled in Bahrain—a small island state in the Middle East—where I grew up as a welcomed outsider. I went to the international school filled with kids from all over the world, each with different cultures, traditions and backgrounds. We couldn’t have been more different from each other—except for one thing. None of us were from Bahrain. We were all outsiders living together on this beautiful island state.
Fast forward another 30 years or so and now I’m married, living in southern Turkey with my wife who (at the time) was working with Syrian refugees. It was in that small Turkish city that I met the best and worst people I’ve ever known—angels and demons, if you will. But no matter what kind of person they were, they were all suddenly—and often violently—evicted from their home without warning, and with little hope to ever return.