The Neon Graveyard

by Vicki Pettersson

  “Sorry,” I said, embarrassed that I didn’t just leap onto the symbol with a cheesy smile and a saucy wave. “Just give me a minute.”

  “It’s okay.” Vincent said quietly. “And we’ll wait here.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “If someone finds it, or picks up our scent and follows us . . .”

  “One yank of a bedpost and this place becomes our tomb,” Foxx finished for me. I made a face. So glad I could count on him for support.

  “You can’t follow me in either. I wouldn’t wish . . . that on any of you.” I did wish I could tell them about the men over there. How their bodies were set eternally to slow boil. How over seemingly innocuous games of poker they were forced to pit their personal powers against one another just so they wouldn’t be made to burn as fuel for a woman’s world.

  Thinking of that—of Solange, and of Hunter at her whim—steeled me.

  I took one last look at the men who now made up my troop, former Shadows to the last—and in Foxx’s case, probably a Shadow still at heart. But they’d fought for me and kept me safe. And even if they didn’t believe in me, they believed in what we were doing. And they knew what it was to leave home and step into a place that was completely unknown.

  “Go back to the cell,” I told them. “We need to be sure that Carlos has a troop to return to.”

  “We’ll at least see you gone first,” Vincent said softly.

  I swallowed hard and gave him a nod, touched. Then after patting the kundan pendant I’d threaded through my hair, then the matching bracelet, I rubbed off the newly applied henna at my wrist, knowing the stain would remain beneath. Grasping my blade tight in my right palm, I stepped onto the Serpent Bearer. It shifted beneath my feet, living up to its name, while the smooth sandstone walls bled onyx. The burning tapers were blinding in contrast, and I squinted until—in the order of the Zodiac, Aries to Capricorn—the constellations popped up on the walls. The pinpoint pricks of each star speared against the pervading black.

  A long exhale sounded to my left. “It’s beautiful.”

  But beautiful things could be deadly, I thought, just as Sagittarius appeared. A force leading me to it tugged at my feet, knees, hips, and shoulders. I wobbled, fighting to remain in place, but realized everyone else had gravitated naturally toward their own star sign. Milo and Fletcher were side by side as always, though. They were both Pisces.

  I trained my gaze on the black spot where Ophiuchus resided in the night sky. It was the holdout, the renegade constellation, and as if to prove it, it burst into view with double the intensity of the rest, a red-rimmed hue permeating its core as if backlit in blood. A hum electrified the room. They were all there.

  Thirteen signs of the Zodiac.

  True freedom for all arises from the Serpent Bearer, I thought, and the dusty snake writhed beneath my feet. It slipped up my left calf in an invisible caress, smooth and gritty at the same time, growing like the black snakes on Fourth of July, erupting from its own dusty body as it twined about my legs. The thought that it might climb over my entire body birthed panic in me and the slither constricted at my ankles, threatening to tip me forward. Directly toward Ophiuchus, I realized.

  Take your mark to make your mark, I thought, swallowing hard. Then Foxx unexpectedly called my name. Glancing over, and it took more than a little effort, I saw him standing stoically in front of the Cancer sign. Oddly, with the change in focus, the snake’s invisible spiral slowed, even loosened, and my ankles steadied.

  Foxx’s eyes were half lidded and unreadable as usual, and he looked severe with starlight playing off his slanting face. I raised my brows at the wordless challenge that always warred between us, but instead of responding in kind, his forehead knit lower. “It is . . . brave.”

  I swallowed hard. His dangerous approval was almost worse than the warnings.

  “And stupid,” Kai added, probably scenting the pulse in my nerves. “But totally brave.”

  The insult helped numb me again and I took a deep breath and turned back to Ophiuchus. The movement around my ankles resumed, and I reached for the sky with my free hand—for Ophiuchus, the Serpent Bearer—making sure the other was wrapped tight around my blade. The sandy serpent really came to life then, reaching up through me, pushing me to my toes, supporting me even as it thrust me toward the Universe. I must have vaulted all the way to the ceiling because the next thing I knew, I’d gotten ahold of the constellation’s lowest hanging star.

  Then, palm burning, I fell.

  13

  Blackness, pure and raw as a midnight grave.

  That was my first thought. My second?

  Shoulda brought a lighter.

  Yet I hadn’t been sure what to expect when entering Midheaven via an entrance not connected to the others. Due to the pitch-black surroundings, I wasn’t even exactly sure I was in Midheaven—there certainly hadn’t been any sense of arrival. Nor was there any sign of the saloon—no gambling tables, no bar . . . no staircase leading upstairs where the women ruling this dark world dwelled. Where Solange kept Hunter.

  And if I couldn’t find the stairs, I couldn’t find him. So was that why she’d decked the place out like a black hole? Was this room—or wherever I was—booby-trapped to the teeth? Maybe a trap door awaited me only feet away, one leading to a pit filled with wild wolves, or very simply a supernatural cell I’d never escape? After all, she ruled this world. I swallowed hard. She could create anything she wished.

  And ostensibly so can you, I told myself, taking one trembling step forward. She wants your power to create the world as you wish it to be. Okay Hunter, I thought, testing another step as his long-ago words revisited me. If you say so.

  The thought of Hunter trapped somewhere above me like a bird in some bloody, gilded cage got me moving. Grip tight around my blade, I began walking, one hand extended into the abyss. Then something small and hard brushed against my head.

  “Ow,” said a voice in my ear, and the hard thing knocked into me again.

  I jerked away, backing into something else—small, hard, and equally vocal.

  “Fuck! Watch where you’re going!”

  I squealed, switched directions again, and felt a flailing at the back of my head. It reminded me of bird wings caught in a net. Jerking away and breathing hard, I stilled. There was a muffled chuckle from across the room, and then silence descended again. “Hello?”

  “I think we’ve already established that you’re not alone.” It was the first voice that had addressed me, now gone wry. I felt like I should know it too, but the darkness was so complete I was experiencing something like mental vertigo. I simply couldn’t place it.

  “Sorry, but it’s dark.” I swallowed hard, eyes wide in the impenetrable abyss.

  “Another astute observation,” came a woman’s haughty voice from somewhere to my right. “And really, what did you expect?”

  I’d expected a washed-out saloon holding a bunch of men too listless to save themselves, along with a bright red door holding back heat and light so fierce it glowed around the edges. But not greater nothingness than even that which had greeted me when I’d entered Midheaven astrally. Though Solange didn’t seem to be here this time. No one was attacking me, and as caustic as the unseen people were, they weren’t acting in deference or speaking in careful code—something they’d be sure to do were the queen bee present. Even this world’s goddesses were afraid of Solange.

  “Can someone please turn on a light?” I asked, though I was getting the feeling we were all trapped in the same metaphorical boat.

  “You’re the one who did this.” Another voice. Another woman. “You turn on a light.”

  “D-Diana?” I asked, turning to my left. “Is that you?”

  A sound of assent. It really was her voice this time, and not Solange’s emanating from her mouth. “And Trish. And Nicola.”

  “And everyone else you managed to murder.” The aforementioned Trish was standing somewhere to my right. I whirled, but even squinting, even tho
ugh my eyes should be somewhat acclimated and able to make out shapes or shadows, I still saw nothing. I was less worried now, though. Trish’s verbal assault notwithstanding, I remained unaccosted, and I ignored her words as she was obviously alive.

  “I told you she was a danger to us all.” That was Nicola, severe as ever. As if I was any danger to the goddesses running this world. Thrice now Solange had chased me from Midheaven, and each time I’d been too busy trying to salvage my own life to take anyone else’s. I hadn’t murdered anyone.

  “Well, I’m glad she’s here,” Trish said, voice still airy and bright. “I’m tired of hanging out down here.”

  There was scattered laughter at that, a few snorts and groans at what was obviously an inside joke. At least her words let me know I’d made it into the right place. From the number of male voices whispering around me, the other trapped rogues were all here too. Though why were the women downstairs? Females ruled upstairs, men were enslaved down here. That’s the way this place worked . . . or had. I’d last seen these women draped like mannequins in the air room, so something had obviously changed since then.

  “Why are you down here?” I directed my voice to Diana, noting one small blessing—it was no longer scorching hot in the gambling hall.

  “Punishment” came her wry reply. “We weren’t supposed to let you in last time. Or let you go.”

  “On the up side, we now have front row seats to the show.” Trish, still cheery . . . still ominous.

  “There’s no show if Solange doesn’t know Joanna’s here.”

  I couldn’t stop the relief from washing through me. So entering through the Serpent Bearer had worked. My soul energy, and thus presence, hadn’t yet registered in this world.

  The first man’s disembodied voice sounded again. Why couldn’t I place it? “I wouldn’t know if she hadn’t bumped into me.”

  I’d definitely bumped into something. No way had it been a human being, though. “Sure you guys won’t turn on a light?”

  “We lack the capability, and even if we did we wouldn’t help you.” Nicola’s voice was so contemptuous I could practically see her raised chin. “You’re destined to incinerate. At least we get to watch.”

  Trish concurred cheerily. “Front row seats . . . minus the popcorn.”

  A mournful male sigh from across the room. “I miss popcorn.”

  “Look, help me out and I’ll do the same,” I said, addressing them all. “I’ve come to free you all.”

  “Delusional as always.” Nicola’s voice launched over the room, an invisible rainbow of contempt, spite, and bitterness. “There is no helping us. Once she discovers you’re here, you won’t even be able to help yourself.”

  I thought of Solange’s willingness to give me a power that would lead me back to her home turf, and of Io warning me I couldn’t trust that. But then I thought of Hunter, and Solange’s assertion that I couldn’t compete with a goddess. “Okay . . . so what if I imagined a light into existence?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Trish’s feathery tone took on a worried hook. “We could get in trouble.”

  A scoff from a man who hadn’t spoken before. His soft drawl was lined in melancholy. “What more could she possibly do to us?”

  “Don’t even say that,” Diana snapped.

  “But I can do it?” I asked, bringing us back to the subject. “Using the playing chip Solange gave me, right? She said I had the ability to imagine things into existence. She told me to try and imagine light.”

  “Yes, I see power burning in you,” said the first man. “Small, but dense. And light is natural for you. Archer is a fire sign, after all. Though you could just use the matches on the bar.”

  “Shut your mouth, Shen!” Diana yelled now, and that was the anchor I needed to place the voice. Shen, a man I’d battled with over a poker table, and who hated me simply because I was a woman . . . and he was a man trapped in a woman’s world.

  So why the hell was he defying Diana in order to help me now?

  “Or what?” Shen replied sourly. “You sew it shut?”

  More grunts and giggles.

  “You can’t see this either, Archer,” said another man from behind me, “but Diana is not amused. She’s shaking her head.”

  Full-out snickers now, including a man immediately behind me guffawing like a donkey. Tired of the innuendos and inside jokes, I whipped my hand out, circling until I hit something. The brays turned into all-out cries that floated beside me like a pendulum. “Bi-i-itch!”

  “Be quiet, all of you.” It was Nicola, and unsurprisingly her voice quieted the rest. Diana was beautiful, powerful. Trish possessed dangerous curves and a sweet demeanor, both of which concealed cruel intentions. But Nicola was as autocratic as a French queen. When she spoke, others ate cake. Even my first instinct was to listen. “You’re going to wake her.”

  It fell spookily silent again as we all listened for Solange. Finally Shen whispered. “As if she sleeps.”

  “Yeah,” agreed another, making me wonder how many men were still here, trapped literally in the dark. “She’s probably occupied with one of her play toys.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll both be down here soon enough. She’ll want their energy, too. She needs every ounce she can get.”

  My heart bumped hard in my chest. I didn’t know what had befallen those around me, but their black humor didn’t fool me. I didn’t need super senses to ferret out the sad desperation around me. They were as trapped here as Hunter and Carlos. “So if I got that one power back, can I get the others as well?”

  Solange had said it was possible. She just hadn’t allowed how.

  “If you leave with them, sure.” The shrug was in Diana’s voice. “But you’re never leaving.”

  Shen, again from my left. “Did you really come back for us?”

  “To free you, yes,” I answered, and it was true. Freedom for Hunter and Carlos. For the other rogues. For me too.

  “So Carlos was telling truth?” Shen said.

  I straightened, my vocal cords drawing tight. “You saw him?”

  “Briefly.”

  So that’s what caused his change of heart. He believed Carlos. Good.

  “Shut up, Shen!”

  “Oh, fuck off already, Diana! You don’t tell me what to do anymore.” Then back to me. “I’ll help you, Archer. But you must promise to set me free.”

  “I told you, that’s why I came. Just help me find the bar, the matches, a lantern. I’ll take it from there.”

  “She’s full of shit,” Diana said harshly.

  “I don’t care,” Shen said evenly, before his voice resounded back my way. “I will do better than that. Solange returned a power that allows you to create anything you want through imagination alone. I can help you harness that power.”

  “How?”

  “You must first locate it. It can be found beneath your sternum. Not near your heart, though. Look for it as far back as your spine will allow.”

  I wondered momentarily if this was some Eastern medicine hoodoo before deciding stranger things were possible. So I focused as Shen said, and tried to locate some sort of power by pushing at my middle. I even closed my eyes, which underlined my desperation. I was in Midheaven—thus danger—and already in the dark. I finally sighed, and opened my eyes to more blackness.

  “Useless mortal.” Nicola—still autocratic and arrogant. Still bitchy. I kinda wished Solange had kept her voice.

  I crossed my arms. “I got back here, didn’t I?”

  “Oh yeah.” She snorted. “Great job there.”

  “Ignore her,” Shen said and I turned my head back in his direction, frowning now. “Try this. Remember what it felt like when the glyph on your chest began to glow? Well, your restored power possesses the same natural warmth. Instead of trying to find it, try to find lack surrounding it. Feel the emptiness of all other missing powers. Think of abilities you gave up, the feeling you had when using them. That will let you know exactly where they on
ce resided.”

  “Okay,” I said hesitantly, unsure if that would work. I’d grown so accustomed to being powerless that that’s what felt normal now, and did anyone really feel or note the mundanely normal? Yet I had once had known something more, so I focused on that.

  Much of my physical weakness could be attributed to the healing time needed after enduring a near-drowning, but losing the ability to run like a cheetah had been akin to falling completely immobile. Jumping had once felt like flying, yet now I could barely skip rope. The losses were similar to phantom limbs, psychic aches accompanied by torturous flashes where I thought I could still move through the world like an able-bodied agent.

  The only difference between me and someone who’d survived a land mine? My losses had been cut from my soul. So even though I normally tried not to focus on lack, it was easy to feel once I turned a mental spotlight on it. After all, it was everywhere.

  Shen responded to my sound of assent. “Good. Now locate the small section that feels crowded and full. It should be like an island jutting from the sea. Isolated. Bright.”

  And suddenly it was easy to do, perhaps because the sea of emptiness was so great. “Got it.”

  “All right.” He sounded surprised at that. “Now just warm it up. Thaw it out. Visualize literally curling your mind around it. Pretend you’re uncoiling your gray matter so that you can wrap it around that power like a thermal blanket.”

  “Or you could ask Solange to uncoil it for you,” said Diana helpfully, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

  I swallowed hard at that and opened my eyes. My loss of concentration made her laugh. Most of the men laughed with her, though Shen wasn’t one of them.

  “Shut up!” he snapped. “I’m making progress, I can see it.”

  His words only increased my worry over their odd ability to see me while I remained blind. Maybe keen eyesight was just one more lost sense, but it just didn’t feel right, not even for Midheaven. “What do you mean ‘see’?”