by Stacia Kane
For what felt like an eternity she hovered above the floor, riding an enormous rail of gleaming iridescent force, her fists clenched around the useless final bit of the relic and her head thrown back, before somehow falling into place, into her body, to find Ktana Leyak about to shoot her with her own gun.
Megan ducked, feeling as though it was somehow very easy to do all of this now, and swung her arm sideways, realizing her hand no longer hurt. Nor did her face, not really.
Ktana dropped the gun but managed to elbow Megan in the face. In her hyperecstatic state Megan hardly noticed it, but she knew it had happened, just like she knew without the Yezers’ power behind her Ktana would be disappearing soon, and this wouldn’t be over. It had to end now if Megan was going to have any peace, if she was going to have any real authority over her demons.
She swung again, catching Ktana across the face and knocking her down. The nose, go for the nose, like she did with you…She had no idea why that seemed right, but it did, so Megan lifted her foot and brought it down as hard as she could on the back of Ktana’s neck.
“Kill you! I’ll kill you, I’ll come back and kill you!” The normally light tones of Ktana Leyak’s voice harsh-ened, deepened, turned into something singularly unpleasant. Megan’s stomach lurched but she kept going, hitting Ktana on the back of the neck, understanding now that it wasn’t the nose, it was the neck, it was something in her neck that needed to be damaged if she was going to win, if she could ever hope to keep her demons safe.
With a scream she stomped, as hard as she could, sending as much of her power as possible along with it, and felt something give beneath her. Ktana Leyak’s body went limp, and silent.
Megan backed away, stopping when she hit something warm and solid behind her. Maleficarum, standing against the wall, watching the still body on the floor.
“Is she dead?” Megan whispered.
“Only one way to find out,” said a voice in the doorway, and the body on the floor burst into flame.
Megan couldn’t speak; there didn’t seem to be very much to say anyway. She just flung herself to the side, into his arms, pressing her bloody face against his bare chest. Beneath his sweat-slick skin his heart still beat. She couldn’t imagine how or why, but it did, and all she could do was be grateful.
“You sure like to make an entrance,” she managed.
“After what I’ve been through I think I deserve it, don’t you?” But his lips cut off her reply, and he held her tight for a long moment while she forgot everything else, and everyone else, in the room.
Finally he pulled away. “I knew you could do it.”
“Where were you?”
“Dealing with a zombie horde, a gang of very angry townies with guns and cherry bombs, two cops, and a couple of dogs. Dogs don’t like demons. It took me ages to get them off me.”
He glanced around the room, surveying the damage, seeing the remains of the relic on the floor. “So you found it. And you got them back.”
She nodded, then shivered and leaned against him, becoming aware of the cold for the first time in a while.
“We should go,” he said. His lips brushed her hair. “We have to get ourselves packed. And take showers. And eat. And sleep.”
Nick laughed. “In that order, right?”
They left the room while the flames from Ktana’s body spread through the garbage and papers on the floor. Megan glanced back when they reached the top of the stairs. Orange light pulsed in the doorway, fire crept out along the walls and baseboards. Let it burn, she thought. Let it all burn.
Mercifully they didn’t take the stairwell her father’s body now rested in. Mercifully nothing else impeded their progress as they finally stumbled back into the lobby and out the front doors. She looked up and saw fire through the empty windows on the fifth floor.
Greyson’s arm tightened around her. “That’s your investment going up in flames, you know.” Now they were outside she could see the bruises on his face and chest, the singed and tattered pants. His shirt was gone—she hadn’t made the connection before—it must have burned off.
“I still don’t want it.”
“I still think you might change your mind. After all, with Temp and Orion both dead…the land might belong solely to you. You could sell it, especially once this monstrosity is gone.”
For a moment she saw another park, a memorial to Harlan Trooper. A decent rehab center, maybe. It glowed in front of her…then disappeared. It would be seen as an admission of guilt here. Just because the hospital was burning and she’d finally managed to put her past behind her for real didn’t mean Grant Falls had suddenly turned into Bedford Falls.
“I don’t know.” She leaned her head to the side, resting it on his chest. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Think all you want. You’ve got plenty of time.”
The men chatted for a minute while her Yezer started to creep up beside her, some sheepish, some defiant, some frankly supplicant. It didn’t really matter if they apologized. Maybe she didn’t deserve it. Her resentment of what had happened to her, of being forced to deal with them on their terms, had colored her relationship with them to the point where she couldn’t blame those who’d willingly gone with Ktana Leyak. They deserved to feel taken care of, whether she ultimately decided to do the Haikken Kra or not. That was the whole point of a Meegra, to have someone in charge, someone who would take care of you and watch out for you. Someone who would do whatever it took in order to take care of you and watch out for you, like the ritual she’d witnessed. It wasn’t just the continuity or the respect, she realized now. It was both of those things, yes, but it was also the physical proof that a Gretneg would do anything—anything—for the demons in his or her care.
She’d do better from now on, be stronger and more in control. Funny how important that had become to her. Funny how important quite a few things had become to her. She’d have a lot of work to do when they got back from the cabin. It was only the wee hours of Saturday morning; they still had Christmas to celebrate, and the start of a new year. A new beginning.
“It’s getting cold out here.” Nick rubbed his hands together. “If we’re not going to toast marshmallows, can we just get back in the truck and go?”
Greyson turned to her. “What do you think, bryaela, you ready?”
She smiled up at him. “I’m ready.”
