Traveler

by Melanie Jackson

  Except she hadn’t planned on there being three gargoyles. Zayn had said that Hille’s beast was in there, too.

  There was only one way left out of the building.

  “Damnation!” Jack didn’t wait to see the monster chase Io out onto the ledge, but instead turned and ran back into the church. He mounted the stairs to the bell tower, taking them three at a time.

  He knew what she was going to try. If he were very lucky and the angle was right, he might have a chance at getting a shot off before the gargoyle got to Io. This shotgun couldn’t kill it from this distance, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch and might buy Io some time to make her jump.

  She had just run out of ledge and safe options. Hille’s gargoyle was oozing down the outcropping after her, gripping the stony ledge with its prehensile claws, its ugly mouth agape and tongue lolling. Its bright black eyes tried to snare her mind and paralyze her into inaction.

  Io shuddered and looked out into the night, hoping for a reprieve. But the answer hadn’t changed in the last fifteen seconds. She was out of time and out of ledge. Cisco was about to blow up the factory and the next building was too far away even to consider attempting a jump.

  That left the power line two floors below her. It was humming, still ferociously alive. The sound scared her. But not as badly as the stalking gargoyle.

  A shotgun exploded behind her and the gargoyle howled in protest. Its steps slowed but didn’t stop. The shotgun exploded again.

  “Io, run! Try for a window! You can make it to the other side of the building and jump there!”

  Jack! He’d come to save her. He’d keep the gargoyle pinned down while she tried to escape.

  Only it wasn’t enough. Jack didn’t know it, but there wasn’t any ledge on the south side of the building. She had already looked. And she was out of time. If she went back in the building, she’d die there. Nothing could save her from Cisco’s bomb. She had to get out now!

  Taking a last, inadequate breath, Io stretched out her hands and leapt into the dawn. She poured all her magic into her fists trying to form a shield. The wire was there! Her mind screamed not to touch it, that she would die, but Io ordered her hands to clench around it.

  Wire bit into her skin. Sparks showered around her and she heard Jack cry out a late warning.

  But the magic worked. It worked better than expected, covering the whole swaying wire in smothering insulation and making it go temporarily dead.

  Immediate danger past, Io jerked her head around, searching for the gargoyle. She was just in time to see it leap out into space after her. The shotgun erupted again but it had no effect on the stony body traveling down toward her.

  Io knew she’d scream the moment the gargoyle’s talons grabbed her.

  The noise never escaped her throat.

  Genetic memory had betrayed the gargoyle. The goblins, living underground, had bred out the beasts’ wings until they were merely ornamental. The creature tried to flap its limbs, but it was futile. The gargoyle was made of stone, and like a stone it plummeted. The thing missed the wire altogether and hit the street with shattering force, exploding its body into a thousand pieces.

  “Oh goddess! Thank you, thank you!” Io gasped. The view from so high up was sickeningly vertigous, but she still savored it.

  “Move it, little fey!” Jack’s rough voice came from the top of the church. He leaned over the parapet, extending a symbolic hand. No sight or sound had ever been more welcomed. “You aren’t some damned gargoyle, and a protection spell won’t hold forever.”

  He didn’t say anything about the building being set to blow at any second, but Io knew that was what he was thinking.

  Muscles trembling, she began climbing hand over hand along the wire, ignoring the pain in her fingers as the cable bit through her skin. She’d recover from cuts, but not from a thirteen-story fall, or from being blasted into billions of separate molecules by a firebomb.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Io’s power line didn’t lead into the church itself, so she followed it to a pole and then began a careful descent to the ground. Her hands were bleeding and her muscles were clumsy with cold and ebbing adrenaline. She worked slowly and carefully, not taking the chance of vaulting to the earth. It would be more than ironic if she broke an ankle in the last minutes of their mission and ended up dead because she couldn’t run.

  “Jump, Io!” Jack commanded. “I’ll catch you.”

  Io wanted to protest, but she could suddenly feel a magnetic current traveling along the ground, heading toward the bomb with its lethal set of instructions.

  I don’t want to jump again, her brain sniveled. Don’t make me!

  “Io!”

  Sorry, body, time to go.

  She pushed off from the pole, closing her eyes and trusting that Jack would catch her.

  Seconds later, hard arms snagged her and then lowered her to the ground. She caught a glimpse of Jack’s white face and blazing eyes, and then both he and she began running flat-out for the cover of another building. Beneath their feet, Cisco’s messenger of annihilation passed by, racing on its way to the factory.

  They turned the corner of the nearest brick-and-mortar shelter and Jack pulled her to the ground, laying himself on top of her. Around them, the world went nova and filled with choking dust.

  The next few moments were a kaleidoscope of horrible noises, reverberations, and smells, but Io remained anchored through it all because of Jack’s hard body pressing her into the ground.

  An eternity later, the shaking stopped and the air began to clear.

  “Get up,” Jack said, hauling her to her feet. It wasn’t the lover’s greeting she had longed for, but she was still glad to hear his voice. Actually, she was glad to hear anything. “We have to get out of here,” he added.

  As if given a cue, a man pulled up in a dirty black van. Zayn threw open the back door and held out a bloodied hand to Io. She scrambled inside, given a boost by Jack’s hard fist as he crawled in after her. They were careful not to step on Chloe’s prone body. The girl was shivering violently and was the color of paper.

  “Io, give me your hands,” Zayn said, catching her palms and pouring a healing spell over them so the bleeding would stop. The cure was painful but quick.

  “Hey, amigo. You were late. Thought maybe you’d miss the show,” the man in the driver’s seat greeted them. “This your lady?”

  “Cisco. We were a little too close to your pyrotechnics for comfort,” Jack answered. “But what a bang! Yes, this is—for a few minutes more—Io Cyphre.”

  “Pleasure, ma’am.” Cisco tossed the greeting over his shoulder.

  “Likewise,” Io muttered. Taking her hands back from Zayn, she added, “Thanks.”

  “Do we go with the original plan?” Cisco asked. “We are a little behind the time. There might be reinforcements at the gate by now.”

  “Compadre, get us to the limo and then you go on. We’ll meet on the other side of the wall,” Jack announced. “We’ll go out through the gate if we can. If not, we’ll go over the wall. The key here is that we go immediately, even if we have to go heavy.”

  “I read you loud and clear, amigo. He who kicks ass and runs away…”

  “Exactly. You’ve got more boomsticks if you need them?”

  “Always. I’ll have the gate open one way or another.”

  The van turned about quickly, taking them all back to Horroban’s limousine. In the distance, a tardy alarm began to sound. Io wondered if Goblin Town actually had a fire department, and if they did, what was more important, the crop or the above ground factory.

  They pulled up beside the now gray and brick-chip—dented limo. Io didn’t question Jack when he climbed out of the van and pulled her after him. She was too dazed to think clearly.

  “Get out of here,” he said to Cisco, his words turning to ice as they hit the air. The temperature had dropped below freezing in the last few seconds. “I mean it. Get Zayn and Chloe out of here.”

/>   “I’m already gone, amigo. But don’t worry. This place is more like Ghost Town than Goblin Town.”

  “Somebody’s up and ringing the bell, and it isn’t the imps.”

  “You have a point.” With that, the van sped away.

  Jack opened the passenger door of the long limousine and urged Io in.

  “I know you’re tired, but search the car,” he told her, squeezing her shoulder once for comfort. “Choose a new handgun—something with lots of ammo. And look for any papers, bugs, radios—anything. This is our last chance to see what else any of the world’s most powerful goblins are up to.”

  Too shocked to argue at this further effort, Io merely nodded and started to work as Jack slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s side. Her hands were sore but flexible. Zayn had done his work well.

  Jack drove fast, but not recklessly, and Io was able to move about without tumbling. The back of the limo yielded very little: a small vial of something nasty-looking in the refrigerator, and a selection of weapons. Io chose a pair of Glocks. They had a tendency to jam when using nonstandard ammunition, but there was plenty of the factory spec brass casing stuff in the car. The polymer pistol was also nice and light. It had the added benefit of being easy to conceal.

  She began loading magazines into her cape’s pockets, praying they didn’t rip out. The garment had seen better days.

  “Find anything?” Jack asked.

  “Guns. Lots of guns. And maybe a sample of Neveling’s perfume.”

  “Good. I’d like some proof of what they were up to. It’ll help Cisco.” Jack paused then added conversationally, “Io, do you like cars?”

  “Like cars?” she repeated, looking at Jack’s reflection in the mirror. His chalk-covered face grinned at her and his eyes sparked. She realized that he was probably still riding the adrenaline wave that had beached her a few minutes ago. “I don’t like this one much.”

  “No…no, of course not. But what about Jaguars?”

  Bemused, she stared at him. She turned over thoughts in her brain until she found one that seemed logical if outrageous.

  “Are you trying to decide what car to steal next?” she finally demanded. She fought a nervous laugh that had little to do with humor and everything to do with incipient hysteria. Her crimes were adding up fast: felonious breaking and entering, arson, conspiracy, treason—though she might escape that one on a technicality because Horroban hadn’t actually been elected yet—and then there was illegal use of magic in the commission of a felony. Law enforcement was not fond of that one. Why not add grand theft auto? They were never coming back to their old lives anyway.

  Still, this was different from the other things they had done. Jack was talking about committing crimes outside of Goblin Town.

  “Well, we’ll have to steal something,” he said casually, once again giving her the hysterical urge to laugh at words that suggested he hadn’t a scintilla of respect for the law that had hired him. And maybe, in that moment, he hadn’t any. The law had failed them. Maybe he didn’t feel he owed it much.

  “We will, huh?” Io looked again at Jack’s eyes. They contained the same sort of unfettered glee that she’d seen at The Madhouse when Glashtin was pumping drugs through his ventilation system. Only Jack would never—not ever—use goblin drugs.

  Not voluntarily.

  She stared as Jack pointed out with cheerful mania, “We can’t rent anything until we are out of the state. And even then we’ll have to use fake IDs. You have yours, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but can we trust it?” she asked, thinking of how H.U.G. had been compromised by Xanthe. She had taken the ID when cleaning out their pied-à-terre, though she had worried even then whether it was compromised. In fact, she was sure that she had mentioned this to Jack—

  “Maybe not.” Jack sounded suddenly grim and more like his normal self. “We’ll use mine for now. Man! I think I have a concussion.”

  “What about Zayn and Chloe?” Io asked, crawling up onto the seat nearest the front of the car. She desperately wanted to curl up on the soft leather and go to sleep, but instead she watched Jack’s profile, trying to understand what was different about him. It wasn’t just the bruise on his forehead.

  “I don’t know, little fey. I think it’s up to them. If I were in their shoes, I’d be gone before dawn.”

  “Chloe’s hurt,” Io pointed out. “She needs a doctor.”

  “She’s not as hurt as she will be if the goblins get her again. They planned to feed her to the trolls, you know. And I don’t think a doctor can fix what’s wrong with her, anyway.”

  Io nodded, not liking the answer, but not refuting it either.

  “You know, it’s total madness, but I am having an attack of basic bestial urges,” Jack said cheerfully, the odd glitter returning to his eyes. “How about you?”

  “You can teach me to steal cars later,” Io answered as the limo slowed to a stop half a block from the city’s main gate.

  “That wasn’t what I meant.” Jack killed the engine and then swiveled around in his seat. “Though I am always happy to be the one to show you new things.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So, you got something for me?” He grinned at her—and goddess help her, she wanted to grin back. His mania was contagious. She could feel his magic reaching for her. No, Jack didn’t have a concussion, or at least that wasn’t all that he had.

  “Only this. Behave now. And be careful.” Io handed him one of the Glocks along with a spare magazine. She’d had enough shooting for one night, but was willing to take out a troll guard if he tried to stop them from leaving. And she might very well have to be the one to do it. In his present mood, Jack probably couldn’t be trusted to keep an eye on things.

  “Relax, little fey,” he said, reading her mind. “It’s a walk in the park from here on out. Fifty yards and we’re gone.”

  Io shook her head in disbelief.

  “Jack! You must be high on something. What happy drugs have you been taking?” she muttered, reaching for the car door.

  “You know, I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Jack answered. “I took my breather out at Lutin’s when I saw the blood, and I think I got a snootful of joy juice. There was also something funky inside Horroban’s cave. I’ve never felt magic like that. It was slimy but so powerful—like sticking your finger in an electrical outlet. I lost all my protective spells when I went in after Horroban and I think I got magically slimed. It’s getting stronger all the time.”

  “Swell. Well, we’ll fix this later. I don’t think it’s too bad yet. You are coherent and rational.”

  “We could fix it now,” Jack suggested with a cheery leer. “Just a quickie here in the car and I’d be good as new.”

  “Get real.” Io again reached for the door handle.

  They climbed out of the limo and looked at the sky. There was a faint glow in the east, but above them all was black and cold. Orion and his sparkling jeweled belt were falling toward the horizon, and bright Andromeda was still fleeing monsters with a glittering Perseus racing toward Cassiopeia and winged Pegasus. The heavens at least were unchanging.

  Io looked up the street and saw Cisco’s abandoned van parked at the curb. It occurred to her that, like the limo, it was probably stolen. Nothing moved. It was as if the town had been abandoned.

  “You may want to take a second to try to comb your hair,” Jack said. Then, with cheerful heartlessness “Or do you still have your troll mask? That would be easier.”

  “How bad is it?” she asked, belatedly becoming aware of how filthy and conspicuous they both must be. You didn’t have a building fall on you and not get dirty.

  Jack looked at her ruined cape and snagged sweater poking out beneath it. Io followed his downward gaze. The yarn dangled in an uneven fringe of dreadlocks that suggested massive and irreparable unraveling.

  Jack’s eyes moved on to her hair.

  “Well…you always look wonderful to me, really. Don’t worry, little
fey. The buffalo pelt look is all the rage. And it will grow out.”

  “Buffalo? Do you mean my sweater, or my hair?” she asked, appalled.

  “It is rather difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins,” Jack answered truthfully, if not tactfully.

  Io bent down to look in the limo’s side-view mirror. Her face was covered in soot and chalk, and her hair was singed into snarled dreadlocks that did indeed look exactly like her damaged sweater.

  “Goddess! You think this is wonderful?” she asked, straightening. She didn’t know why his dry voice should provoke wet tears, but it did. She blinked hard, fighting them back. This was no time for emotionalism. “You must be an incurable romantic.”

  Or stoned out of your gourd.

  “Let’s hope so, because I really don’t want to be cured.” His smile was lopsided. “I like this feeling. In fact, I love this feeling. And I love you.”

  “Oh, Jack.”

  “I almost lost you.”

  Then he was kissing her with the fury of a drowning man who’d been at last offered air. His lips and hands were wonderfully competent; no tentative fumbling for Jack. Io didn’t feel nearly so experienced. She hardly knew where to touch him first. And she wanted to touch him everywhere. The strength of the urge alarmed her.

  “This is madness—more juju,” she finally muttered when her lips were free. “We can’t have sex in the middle of the street, I don’t care what the magic wants. The goblins will be down on us at any minute, too. Come on, Jack, you’ve got to sober up.”

  “You say it like madness is a bad thing,” Jack muttered against her throat. “It isn’t. I feel wonderful. Stop worrying.”

  “Stop worrying? With the goblins of Goblin Town in flames and probably rushing to protect their borders?” Io laughed thinly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Jack, I hate to do this, but…honey, look at me.” Io tucked a hand in his dusty hair and urged him away from the pulse in her neck. The moment she had snagged his madly dancing eyes, she gathered her waning strength and gave him a magical punch to the head.