by J. Kenner
To her credit, she didn't argue, merely trotted upstairs, then returned with the battered tome. She set it on the bar, and we all peered at it, keeping our distance as if the thing could bite.
Deacon stepped up beside me and took my hand, prepared to be my anchor despite his objections to the experiment.
"Here goes nothing," I said. I opened the book back up to the inscription, sliced my palm, pressed, and waited for the jolt.
It didn't come.
"What's happening?" Rachel asked.
"Nothing," I admitted, opening my eyes. "Not a thing."
"No rumble? No yank on your gut?" Rose asked.
"I said nothing," I snapped, irritated more by the failure than by her questions. I reined in the urge to toss the book across the room. Instead, I ripped my hand free from Deacon and stalked to the back. I opened the walk-in freezer, found the ice cream, and proceeded to dig it out with an industrial-size spoon.
When all else fails, sometimes you have to fall back on the old standbys.
Rose came into the freezer with me, made a face, then took the ice cream from my hands. I protested—I really needed that chocolate—then realized she was only leading me out of the chill. We parked ourselves at the small table where Caleb the cook sat to get off his feet during his shift. I wasn't in the mood to get up and search for another spoon, so I shared the one I had with Rose.
"We used to do this at home," she said.
"I remember."
"Do you think it'll ever be like that again?"
There was hope in her voice, and I hated the thought of killing it. So I reached for her hand and squeezed. "Sure."
Her smile was sad. "Liar."
"Losing faith already?" It wouldn't surprise me. Goodness knew my belief that I would find the missing key was fading fast.
"No," she said, her voice so sincere it made my heart swell. "But even after we stop it, the world's never going to be the same, right? I mean, people have seen."
I nodded, wondering if she was right. They'd seen, yes, but had they understood? People, I knew, had an amazing capacity for rationalizing everything, and I wouldn't put it past them to rationalize the end of the world, too.
"What's going to happen?" Rose asked, picking at her cuticles instead of looking at me. "If you can't find the lost key, I mean?"
I grimaced. Because wasn't that the question of the hour? "Don't worry," I said. "I will."
It wasn't a promise I could be sure of keeping, but it was one I meant with all my heart.
I took a final bite of ice cream and headed back into the pub to see if Deacon had come up with any brilliant ideas, because without that damned missing key, I was right back where we started, with me staring into that rock and edging up against that proverbial hard place.
In the front of the pub, Deacon was stalking across the floor, his body tense, his gaze darting out the window at the coming dawn. There was a tension about him that made me nervous, and I moved toward him, wary, my gaze on his back in case any wings decided to sprout.
"Deacon?"
He paused in his pacing, then turned to me, moving slowly, as if he had to focus on every step. A man trying hard to stay connected to this reality.
"Can you feel it?" he asked. "The pull. Like a rubber band tight around your middle. And the sound. Like swarming bees." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. "They're readying." He looked at me. "They're coming."
"I know," I said, wary. I'd been feeling it myself, that subtle tug. And along with it, the Oris Clef had been calling out to me more and more, teasing and tempting me. I was fighting it, yes, but it was getting harder.
It was getting harder for Deacon, too.
"I won't join them. I won't turn again." He craned his neck, looking at his back. "I swear to you now, Lily, that I will not fail in this fight. I will not turn again."
I moved to him, felt his arms go tight around me. "I know. That's not who you are. Not anymore."
He pulled back, then hooked his finger under my chin. "And you?"
I stepped away, ashamed, my fingers going to the Oris Clef, hanging around my neck. I could feel its power in my hand. Like Deacon, it was attuned to the coming convergence, and it thrummed with energy, warming my hand and fueling thoughts that I had no business thinking. I knew I shouldn't even open myself to the temptation. But I couldn't deny that the temptation was there.
"I'm running out of options," was all I said, and he nodded, his breath releasing on a sigh.
I was also running out of time. I hadn't seen Penemue or Kokbiel or Gabriel, but I knew that wasn't because they were being polite and waiting for engraved invitations. No, they were gathering strength. Waiting until closer to the convergence. Planning to swoop in and take either the key or me, then use it as the portal peeled open.
Soon. Very soon.
We stood there a moment, Deacon and I, looking out onto the night. The street was gray, covered in a thin ash from fires that raged throughout the town. The street was cracked, the aftereffects of a series of tiny earthquakes. No teenagers walked the streets; no cars purred down the road. The world, it seemed, was dying. Humanity might not understand why, but it knew it was ill. Knew that the final death throes were upon it.
Rachel came up softly behind us. "Do we have a plan? Do you two have any idea about the missing key? Any idea at all where it might be?"
I shook my head, frustrated to have to admit that we did not.
She frowned, then took my arm and tugged me aside. Deacon didn't notice; he was back to staring out the window, the fight within him already having begun.
"Rachel? What is it?"
Her brow furrowed as her lips pressed together. She glanced over her shoulder to where Rose was now tossing her knife at the dartboard, hitting bull's-eye after bull's-eye.
"Nothing," she said, then turned away.
I pulled her back. "Wait. Hang on. You pulled me aside, remember? It's not nothing." I saw the battle play out across her face, the hard-fought question of should she, or should she not tell me whatever it was that was on her mind.
"It's just that—it's just that I know you."
"I—okay." I had no idea what I was supposed to say, or for that matter if I needed to say anything at all. "Um, so?"
She ran her fingers through her hair, tousling it in a way which suggested she was even more disturbed than she was letting on. Rachel, I'd learned, was nothing if not put together. "I just mean that even though it hasn't been that long, I really feel like I know you. And it's not just an illusion—I'm not having fantasies that you're really Alice, or that some part of her lives on inside you. I know you." Her brow furrowed. "Your heart, I mean."
"This is all really nice," I said. "And I appreciate the pep talk. But I'm on the clock here, and I should probably go see what Deacon's doing, because if he doesn't come through with a Caller demon, I—"
"Use the key," she said. "Do it. Use the Oris Clef.”
I gaped at her. "You can't be serious."
"Hell, yes, I am," she said, leaning forward and eyeing me earnestly. "Don't you see? It's like I said before—black magic's only black if you use it that way. But you're good. You step up and take the throne, and you'll have an opportunity no one has ever had before. You'll have the chance to take something dark and make it light. To take evil and turn it around until you don't even recognize it anymore. You can eradicate it, Lily. Don't you see? You have the chance to have a legacy here. And, honestly, I think it's what you were meant to do. I think it's why you're here."
"I don't know," I said, though I had to admit there was some sense to what she said. After all, I'd been fighting the demonic essence inside of me for a while. I'd gotten it down. Figured it out. More or less, anyway.
Surely it wouldn't be harder when I was the queen. Hell, it might even be easier. How many queens personally executed the bad guys?
I'd be the Gentle Demon Queen. Lily the Great, who goes down in history as the woman who ushered in a new era. Who merge
d the realms of dark and light.
The woman who tamed the demons.
And how much easier would that be than the alternative? An eternity so vile I couldn't even wrap my head about it. So horrible that the mere thought of it brought the stench of death back to me, making me gag and whimper merely from the possibility. "I don't know," I said. But I was tempted—hell, I'd been tempted when Deacon had suggested it too. And I could tell by Rachel's expression that she knew that I was.
"You just think about it okay? Because I can't see you being evil."
I frowned. Because I could see it. Hell, I'd looked into the future through Gabriel's eyes, and I'd seen it bright and clear, me standing there, ushering the demons over to this world.
"I'll keep an open mind," I finally said, forcing myself not to think about the rest of it. About how Deacon had wanted that role for me so desperately when he was in his demonic form and wanted me to steer far away now that he was himself again. Those were anomalies that weighed against Rachel's suggestion, even though, at the moment, I was rather liking Rachel's idea. Or, at least, I was liking the idea of surviving.
I tilted my head, something curious occurring to me. "When did I tell you about the Oris Clef?”
"Oh," she said, her eyes shifting from left to right, then finally landing on Rose. "Don't say anything to her, okay? I don't want to get her in trouble."
"Rose told you?" Anger fluttered within me. She'd stood right there when I'd deliberately not told Rachel, then she went and blabbed anyway?
"She's a kid," Rachel said. "And she's scared for you."
I brushed it away, because Rachel was right, of course. "I'm scared for me, too," I said. "I'm scared for all of us. And I'm horribly afraid that I'm missing something huge. Something that I'm not seeing or . . ." I trailed off with a shrug. "I don't know. My brain is fried."
"So what's bothering you?" She laughed, the sound a little hollow. "Besides the obvious, I mean."
"Lucas Johnson, for one thing. He was so hot to get this thing," I said, pointing to the Oris Clef at my neck. "And now he's just disappeared."
"But you knocked him out of Rose's body."
"He has a new one, though. I saw him, too. When you were attacked. He was standing on a rooftop, watching, like he had front-row seats to a basketball game or something."
"You're sure it was him?"
"I'm sure."
"Then you're probably right He's probably up to something."
Despite the fact that I did not want to have to mess with Johnson again, my shoulders sagged with relief that she agreed with me. "Yes," I said eagerly. "It's not like him to hang back, especially when everything is coming to a head so soon." Even if I did want to use the Oris Clef—and tempting though it might be, I wasn't saying I did—I had to figure that Johnson was waiting somewhere, all poised and ready to yank the thing away from me.
So why hadn't he tried yet? I didn't get it. And I don't like things that I didn't get.
I reached up to hold the Oris Clef so warm in my hand. Like Deacon, it could feel the coming of the convergence, and I wished it could show me the future. The true future.
"I don't think I could control it," I said to Rachel.
"Sweetie, you're stronger than you think."
I drew in a breath, then shifted so I could look back at Rose. I'd been the big sister for so long, but I didn't want to be anymore. I wanted someone to tell me what to do for once, and I turned back to Rachel, then reached for her. I took her hands, then looked at her, my mouth open to tell her please just help me figure it out.
I never got the question out. Instead, I snapped into her. I heard her gasp, felt her pull away, but not before I got a glimpse of something dark. Something hidden.
"Dammit, Lily! You're not supposed to get in people's heads!"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I swear it was an accident." But even as I spoke, I wished that I'd found the time to learn to be stealthy like Madame Parrish had suggested. As it was, I had only that one image, and in truth, it worried me. Because Rachel had once been a disciple of the dark, just like her uncle Egan. She'd given it all up, and I believed her. But that didn't mean she couldn't relapse.
These were dark times after all, and the pull of the dark was powerful. Rachel might want a clean break, but that didn't mean she would get one. The dark could suck you in, after all.
I understood that better than anyone.
19
I was near the front of the pub, ostensibly checking the locks, but really trying to think about anything but what was happening. Anything but the choices I had to make.
"They're out there," I said, as Deacon approached. "Can you see them?"
"I can smell them," he said, peering out the curtain beside me. "They'll come in, soon. They want what you have, and they can't wait much longer. Either that, or they want to rip you apart so that you can't stop what's coming."
I snorted. "I don't know if I can stop it anyway." I swallowed. "I mean, I know I can. I just don't know if I—"
He pressed a finger to my lips. "We'll find it"
I grimaced. Unless he had some magic spell I was unaware of tucked up his sleeve, I was thinking that wasn't damn likely. The night had passed without attacks from the demons—and that was good—but it had also passed without us finding Margaret's dagger. And that was bad.
Also on the bad side, the demons appeared to be shifting their approach. They'd left us alone for the night, but on this last day we were no longer going to be so lucky. Time kept rushing forward, and with it, the end of the world.
"Are you ready to fight?" he asked, nodding toward the door. I wasn't. I was tired of fighting. Terrified, too, that if I killed any more demons, I would no longer have the strength—no, the desire—to fight the allure of the talisman around my neck. An allure that was getting stronger with each passing minute.
I wanted to shield myself. From the call of the dark. From the demons. From every damn thing, but I didn't know how. It wasn't like I could put a little force field around myself and—
Ok.
"Protections," I said triumphantly. No help for the battle I'd have to fight at the bridge, but at least we'd continue to be safe inside the pub.
"Broken," he countered. "We already talked about that."
"We need new ones," I said, then signaled for Rachel to come over. "They're going to come in," I said without preamble. "Can you do a protection spell? Can you replace the ones that were broken?"
She seemed to go a little pale. "I—I'm not sure. Over this whole place?"
"It doesn't have to last forever," I said. "Just a few hours. I know you don't want to—I know I'm making you do something you gave up—but you said it yourself, right? It's only black magic if you use it for the dark."
She licked her lips. "Just a few hours?"
I glanced at Deacon. For better or for worse, we needed to be out of here and on the bridge soon. So yeah, this was a temporary gig. "Absolutely," I said.
I felt a little guilty that she looked so trapped, but not enough to ask her not to at least try. Maybe it wouldn't work, but we needed something to go right for us, and we wouldn't know unless she tried. After a moment, she nodded. "All right. But this is a solitary spell. Don't disturb me. I'll let you know when the building is secure."
I glanced at Deacon and noticed the way his head was cocked, as if he was listening for something. I knew what, because I was listening, too. And I heard them as well. "Fine," I told Rachel. "But hurry."
As she went off to gather supplies, I turned to Deacon. "They're going to completely surround the place. Are we going to be able to get out when we need to?"
"Portal," he said, and I blanched.
"But the time thing. If we miss the convergence—"
"We won't. Rachel and Rose stay here, safe in the protection spell. Between the two of them, they can anchor us."
"You're sure?"
His eyes darted to Rachel. "If she's strong enough to do a protection spell with the convergence th
is close, she's strong enough to be an anchor. And Rose has her own strength."
That she had, and knowing that she would be safe within the pub would help me fight, too. And I was going to have to fight—I knew that. Penemue or Kok-biel—or both—would be there trying to get the Oris Clef.
And as for me?
Hopefully, I'd be trying to use a dagger that Margaret had hidden so that her daughter could save the world. But I had my doubts.
Without thinking, I closed my hand around the Oris Clef, feeling its call, its promise. Maybe Rachel was right. After all, the black arts were only black if you used them that way. If I used my position for the good of humanity rather than its degradation . . .
I closed my eyes, picturing the transition as I'd seen it in Gabriel's mind. The portal opening. The demons barreling toward us through the vortex that would open to allow passage between the worlds. And me standing at the threshold, my knife tight in my hand as I slice my palm, as I grasp the Oris Clef with my bloodied hand and recite the words that would make me queen.
My bloodied hand...
The image swirled in my head, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Deacon watching me warily. "What?" he asked.
"My blood," I whispered. "It's always been about my blood." I looked wildly around for the book I thought we'd left on the bar. "Where is it? Where's the book?"
From near the dartboard, Rose glanced over. "I took it back upstairs."
"Right." I squeezed Deacon's hand. "Stay with them. Make sure the protections work."
"What are you—"
But I was gone, racing toward the back, shouting at Rachel to finish the protections and stay there with Deacon.
"Wait!" she called, running after me.
"Rachel!" I paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Bit of a time crunch here..."
"What's going on?"
"I think I know where the missing key is. Just keep it up, okay? We need to have this place safe again."
"What? Where?"
"Protections!" I shouted over my shoulder as I tramped up the stairs, my fingers and all other appendages crossed tightly. Mentally crossed, at any rate.
