“No,” said Talin. “No.”
“I’m not really good at anything,” said Just James. “I’m not really good for anything. My step dad says so. My mom doesn’t argue. But I know one thing. I know it’ll never be okay here. Not unless I do what I was made to do.”
“What’s going on?” said Gabriel. “What do you—”
“Please don’t,” said Adalia. She’d known this was coming, could see that Just James had known too. Known with the certainty of a young man who’d fallen in love with a girl he didn’t know. Fallen in love because the Universe needed him to. Fallen, so he could fall again as the Sacrifice. She was crying freely now. “We can … we can make another trade. It will be okay if you don’t.”
Just James gave her a sad smile. “No, it won’t. You know it won’t.” He leaned forward, kissing her on the lips. She leaned into it, stumbled when he broke away. “I love you, Adalia Kendrick, and I won’t ever forget you. No matter where I am. Your Universe can’t take that from me.”
He lifted the Eagle to his lips, and pulled the trigger. Adalia screamed, and screamed, and screamed as the Universe opened above her, the majesty and terrible, faceless, impossible purpose of it rolling down on her. She was pulled away from Just James as his body fell, something lifting her up as it burned the tears from her face.
When she spoke, it was with the voice of a thousand, million suns. “The Sacrifice has been made. Talin Moray, I would like to make a trade.”
CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
“This was not where I thought I’d be,” said Val, getting up from the forest floor. Fallen leaves crunched under him, and he felt a warm breeze tug at his shirt. He checked his hands — yep, still there — and then let them rise to his face. That was still there too, which defied belief.
Super. He must be dead.
You are only as dead as you want to be.
“Ah,” said Val, turning to face the creature. He’d never seen it. Sure, John had told him about it, Carlisle had even given a few clues away after she’d thrown back more drinks than was good for her. He’d seen Danny change, knew her in all her forms. But his own creature? Nope. “Together again, huh?”
You make light of things that can end our Pack.
“I make light of things that are so serious because you’ve got to laugh or cry,” said Val. He brushed off his pants. “You’re, well, you’re on the outside now. How’s that work?”
This is our home.
“Cryptic as always,” said Val. He nodded. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
This is my home.
“Better,” said Val. He looked around, the tall trees stretched far above. The sunlight spotted the ground around him, and a stray beam caught his face. It was warm, and light, and felt good. “This where you go when you’re not killing everyone in sight?”
The creature looked at him with those beautiful, terrible eyes. It blinked, but didn’t move, the sunlight dappling against it through the trees. It was hard to make out when still. There had to be a few hundred people who died because they missed it, just because it was sitting still. It said nothing. Did nothing.
Val held up a hand. No remorse, huh? “Look. You and I both know how it works. I remember, see?” He tapped the side of his head. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”
Nothing like this has ever happened.
“You know that’s not true. You’re always so … literal.”
You are always so … tiny.
“Touché,” said Val. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t touch me in here.” He touched his chest, hand over his heart. “You can only touch me here.”
You let yourself care about all the tiny things. You were made to feel pain.
Val walked around. No matter where he went, the sunlight followed him, warming him. “I thought you were nocturnal?”
All living creatures love the touch of our sun.
“When we’re together,” said Val, “you make me do horrible things.”
I keep our Pack alive.
“Sure, by doing horrible things,” said Val. “Can I tell you a story?”
I know all the world’s stories.
Val blinked. “Can I tell it anyway?”
If you feel you must.
“Right,” said Val. He tapped the side of his head again. “I’m starting to remember. I remember that you’ve been pretty much everywhere except right here. America. You’ve been in Russia, England, Greece … hell, Persia, back when that was a thing. And before then, before we had names for the families we were a part of.”
The names men give to their fallen kingdoms hold no value to Pack.
“Got it,” said Val. “Thing is, there’s this story I want to tell. A bit of a local flavor.”
The creature leaned forward on two strong arms, muscles rippling. You would tell me a story from your new world? What could such a young world have to teach me?
“It’s not been called America for long, sure.” Val shrugged. “But it’s a lot older than that. Do you want to hear the story?”
The thing turned around, looking into the shade of the trees. Assent, or indifference?
Let’s go with assent. “There’s this old Cherokee. He’s at a campfire with his grandson.”
Is the fire important?
Val sighed, rubbing his face. “Don’t tell me you have a sense of humor. It’s been a long day. Can you … can you let me finish?”
I only want to understand.
“The old Cherokee,” said Val, “sits down next to his grandson. I don’t know, maybe the kid’s been in trouble, maybe he’s been drinking, maybe he’s got into girls in an overly enthusiastic way. Point is, he needs a life lesson.”
A lesson you wish to teach me.
“The Cherokee, he sits down and he said, ‘Grandson. There is a battle between two wolves in us all. One is evil. It is anger and jealousy. It knows only greed and resentment, and the inferiority that comes from a life of lies and ego. The other, well, it’s good. It is joy. It’s peace. It knows how to love. It gives hope to its Pack. It is humble, and kind. It tells the truth, and it does what is right even though it is hard.’”
You tell of a battle as if you know fighting.
“I’ve done my share,” said Val. “You were there.”
In your battle between two wolves, these two creatures of good and evil, which one wins?
“I’m glad you asked,” said Val, “because that’s what the grandson asked. He looks up at his grandfather, and he says, ‘Grandfather? Which of these wolves wins?’” Val looked at his feet for a moment. Took a second to breathe in the gentle quiet of the forest. “The answer’s simple, of course.”
I see no answer.
“The grandfather, he leans down to the grandson. Takes the kid’s shoulders in his old, weathered hands. I don’t know, maybe he looks the kid in the eyes — it doesn’t matter. But he says to the kid, ‘The one you feed.’” Val stared at the creature, long and hard. “Which is it going to be? For you, good or evil?”
There is no good or evil. There is only Pack.
“No,” said Val. “How we look after our family — the choices we make? That’s what defines us. You were there when the dragons fell. You saw the things that made them fall. Has none of that time taught you anything? The world will give you back what you give it. And you’ve done nothing but take, and kill, and murder, for thousands upon thousands of years. What kind of debt do you think the Universe has banked up for you? For your Pack?”
There was silence in the tiny forest for a time. The creature shuffled in the shadows, then blinked those yellow eyes at Val. What is it that you want?
“I would like to propose a … a partnership.”
You are ever bound to me.
“You know that’s also not true,” said Val. “We’re both here, because you are bound to another.”
He spoils good meat. He is not the Night.
“If you’re so big and strong,” said Val, “why is i
t that you’re a slave to him?”
You let it happen.
“I didn’t do any such thing,” said Val. “There was a briefcase—”
Your metal toys are nothing. You have made me a slave by seeing me as you want to see me.
“As a curse.”
The Night is the Night.
Val thought about that. “And I wanted to get rid of the curse.”
You are ever bound to me.
“Tell you what,” said Val. “You want to hear my proposal?”
I will listen.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
“It’s not possible,” said Talin. His eyes were wide, the whites showing. Adalia faced him across the ruined room, her hair being pulled about her head by wind coursing through the room.
Adalia didn’t need to take that small sideways step, not anymore. The Universe filled her, surrounded her. She felt like she would burst, or fall to dust, or catch on fire, or drown, all at the same time. “You have set each step in motion that allowed this to happen. Here is the trade I will make with you.”
“I don’t want—”
“I will take from you your power. The Night does not belong to you. I will take it from you and keep it safe. In return, I will give you something precious, something so small, and simple, that even a child knows it. I will give you a conscience, Talin Moray. I will give you back your soul.”
Talin had picked up a knife, a small, ugly thing, crusted in old blood. He ran for her, made quick by the Night. She watched him come, his lithe movements as he vaulted stone, broken wood, and steel. He would be on her in just a moment. Time enough.
Adalia looked down at her feet. She was floating in the air, her toes inches from the ground. Her gaze went to her Mom, her cage bleeding light and smoke in the face of the Universe. Danny’s eyes were open, her yellow eyes watching, waiting. Adalia turned her gaze to Valentine.
“Get up, Knight.”
Val’s body stirred, an arm twitching. His skin began to reform over his face, his head.
“Get up, Valentine Everard. The Sacrifice was made. The price was paid. It is time for you to take your place in this world once more. You are not yet done.”
Talin was close now, so close. He was going to make it, before she was finished. Adalia thought hard about how to stop him, about how to—
There was a thwack, and Talin staggered with a blow. An axe protruded from the side of his head, and Adalia’s eyes went to Uncle John. Uncle John, standing tall in the face of the Universe, unbowed. Of course. He had always known his place in the Universe, had always known that he was one of its favored sons.
“Hi,” said Uncle John, to Talin. “How’s that feel? Tickles a little?”
Talin stumbled, a hand reaching for the haft of the axe. He screamed as he pulled it free, then turned on John. He raised the axe.
“Guy?” Uncle John shook his head. “Always look behind you.”
Talin paused, just for a moment.
“I think,” said Uncle John, “that you should wonder why you’re still bleeding. Why you didn’t change. Don’t you think you should have changed?”
There was a low growl, guttural, and all eyes turned to Val. Where Val had been, and where the creature now stood. Its teeth were bared, its eyes bright, so bright.
“Night is not yet ready to fall,” said Adalia. She turned to the creature that was Val. “I kept it for you. Until you got back. And now I need to make the trade. Are you ready?”
The creature looked at her, took a heavy step forward, the floor shaking as it placed its feet. Talin gave a yell and made a final lunge for Adalia. She could see the knife, the edge of it as it came for her flesh, to take her life away, and she closed her eyes to welcome it. She’d done it, and she could go now. To see Just James. To stand with him on the Cliffs of the Damned.
There was a thump, and a crunch, and Adalia opened her eyes. Talin’s arm, the one that had held the knife, was gone, torn free. Talin was trying to scream but he was panting, gasping, looking like he was right on the edge of noise but unable to make a sound. The creature stood next to her, holding the arm before it tossed it aside like a stick it was bored with. It growled again, then picked Talin up in one massive, clawed hand and tossed him across the room, blood trailing through the air in his wake. It looked at her, those yellow eyes ancient.
It walked to her mom’s cage, grabbing the bars. It roared, smoke peeling away from its clawed hands as it bent and rent the bars. They sheared away with a squeal of metal. The thing that was Val stepped back, eyes searching the room.
John came up to it, stood before it. “I’ll get her.” He went into the cage, and helped Danny up. Carried her in his good, strong arms out through the broken bars, and placed her on the ground. As she got free of the bars, she looked less weak, less sallow. She stood up, eyes bright, and looked at the creature that was Val.
“We must hunt,” she said.
“No,” said John. “You’ve got to kill a motherfucker.”
Danny looked up at Adalia, then walked towards where Val had thrown Talin. With each step she shifted, something else coming out from within, until two massive things moved through what was left of the penthouse.
“It is almost balanced,” said Adalia. “Now, Talin. Now that you have given me your power, I will give you your conscience. I will let you feel every tiny thing you have done.” She reached for one of the thousand, thousand threads that she could see around her, finding exactly the right one, and tugged it. Not very hard, just a little pull, but it snapped and shriveled and was gone.
Talin stood, holding the stump of his missing arm. His eyes were wide. “I have…” His look was stricken, and he swallowed. He looked exactly like a man who realized he had done terrible things, but for the first time in his life. And the last.
“You have broken the Covenant,” said Adalia. “Your life is forfeit.”
The creatures that were Val and Danny fell on Talin Moray, tossing his body between them. They each took turns, shaking him until the life left him, his screams and cries nothing.
They were, after all, the Night.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
The steady beat of helicopter rotors hit the air. For all that they were military craft, Adalia found the sound soothing. It was someone coming to help, or at least that’s what she thought.
“Are you really okay?” Gabriel was at her side, the cold Chicago wind not affecting him at all. His T-shirt moved a little in the breeze.
Adalia scrunched into her jacket a little deeper. “Why would I not be?”
“The Universe,” said Gabriel, “is pretty big.”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s going to be okay.”
The Black Hawk landed in front of their little rag tag group. There was Melissa, and Uncle John, and Rex. Her Mom and Val were—
Hunting.
—making sure of a few things. Everyone looked just about dead, except for her. She was just cold.
But she felt so alive.
The Lost Warrior got out of the helicopter. She looked at Adalia, then moved to Melissa’s side. “I got your message,” she said.
“I sent it,” said Adalia. “You said that we should call. When it was safe.”
“Is it?” said Jessica Pearce.
Gabriel’s eyes were bright with what would have been tears if he were alive. “It’s safe,” he said.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed, as if she could almost hear something. “Jessica,” said Adalia. “I would like to make a trade.”
“You don’t have to trade,” said Jessica. “I’m here to help.”
“Wait until I finish,” said Adalia. “This city of Chicago. It’s dying. It’s sick, and I need someone to make it better. All the people here, they are going to be waking up soon. And I need someone who can help them. Not just help them, but make it right for them.”
“I’m a soldier,” said Jessica.
“And you have access to hot meals, and tents, and … and blankets. It’s cold here, Jes
sica,” said Adalia.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” said Jessica. “It’s a little outside my remit. I can make some calls.”
“Do you want to hear the trade?” said Adalia.
“Sure, kid,” said Jessica, with an indulgent smile.
“I will,” said Adalia, “let you see the face of your son one more time. I will let you hear his voice, and let him speak to you.”
“No,” said Gabriel. “No. It is too much.”
Jessica took three quick strides to stand in front of Adalia. Her hand was raised in a fist, and the look on her face said she didn’t even remember how it got there. “Don’t. Don’t you speak of him.”
Adalia brushed aside her hair. “Jessica? He’s right here.”
Jessica looked around, her eyes going right past where Gabriel stood. “I … I don’t … I can’t see him.”
“Not yet,” said Adalia. “Do we have a trade?”
“No,” said Gabriel.
“Yes,” said Jessica.
“Jessica Pearce,” said Adalia. “Jessica Pearce. I make this trade with you. You will give to this city aid. Food, and doctors, and whatever else it needs. It will cost you your good name and everything you’ve thought you wanted. In return, I give you this. I give you back your son. I give you back what you needed.”
Adalia sagged to the ground, drained. She was crying again, and she didn’t know why for a moment until she realized she was feeling Gabriel’s hurt, and Jessica’s hurt, all rolled into one. She blinked, and looked at them. Jessica’s eyes were wide, her hand stretched out to Gabriel. He — a flesh and blood he, made real, if only for a moment — was crying, and laughing, and crying some more.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica said. “I said I’d be there.”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. “I shouldn’t have gone in front.”
Then they were hugging, and talking, and laughing, and crying some more. Adalia walked away from them to stand next to Melissa, and Uncle John, and Rex.
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