by Karen Chance
"Not when it comes to security," Casanova said rapidly. "The wards are designed to act independently. There's nothing I can do as long as those two keep tossing magic around!"
I bit my lip and watched the creature attacking Pritkin make a vicious jab with its beak. It penetrated halfway into his shields, then stopped as its head became stuck. It began thrashing around, forcing him to drop to his knees and clutch the beam to keep from being pulled off by its attempt to free itself. Meanwhile, Nick was getting much too close to the exit.
Pritkin managed to focus despite the beating he was taking from the giant wings, and threw a spell at Nick, collapsing the section of catwalk he was standing on. It fell into the moat with a splash and a sizzle, sending up a cloud of steam in its wake and barely missing a Charon that had been a little late docking his boat. I looked up in time to see that Nick had somehow snagged the next section. He pulled himself onto it while fending off his creature with a few more spells, heedless of the crowd watching raptly below.
Pritkin was handicapped by trying not to hit the crowd, but Nick felt no such compunction. Sooner or later, he was going to miss and send a deadly spell into the mass of tourists. I couldn't do anything for Pritkin; I wasn't a mage. But I could possibly get the lights back on and help security clear the area.
"Let's go." I tugged on Casanova. "The kids are probably in the kitchens."
He grabbed me by the arm and we muscled our way to the stairs, since the elevators weren't working. At the bottom we paused by a stained-glass window where a little weak light from outside was leaking in. It didn't help visibility much; I was mostly looking at a long black tunnel where I should have been able to see bright medieval banners overhead, a line of armor going down either side and the room-service kitchens off to the left.
I'd started toward the kitchen door anyway when, out of the darkness, there was a low, slow hiss, like scales sliding against the floor. I froze. I didn't know what it was, but that sort of sound is never good. It coiled along my nerves, making the hairs stand up on my arms.
"I've seen this movie," Casanova said tightly. "Everyone dies in the end."
"Shut up!"
"You don't understand—I know that slither!"
A black mist began sending dark fingers running across the stone of the floor. And everywhere they touched, what little light there was went out. "What is it?"
I could hear him swallow. "The darkness isn't caused by the absence of light, but by the presence of something else. Something that, believe me, you don't want to see."
Yeah, except that dying in the dark didn't sound all that appealing, either. I grabbed him before he could get away, crushing that expensive sleeve ruthlessly. "What. Is. It?"
"I told you—"
"Casanova! There is a very good chance there are children down here. What the hell is out there?"
He didn't answer, just shone the flashlight at the ceiling. The walls in this section were dark wood, but the ceiling was painted white, picked out along the edges in gold scrollwork. The thing was hard to see, as it was also bloodless white. It was clinging to the ceiling upside down, head cocked to one side, watching. It was like a parody of a child, small and half formed, glistening wetly across all its surfaces. It looked blind, with no glimmer of eyes under the skin stretched tight across its sockets, but its head turned toward me unerringly.
"Cassie." It spoke in Pritkin's voice. It sounded sympathetic. "If you don't run, I'll kill you quickly, and I'll leave the kids alone."
I swallowed the noise that wanted to crawl out of my throat and made a quick weapons assessment. Mine consisted wholly of a couple of misbehaving knives, since I'd lost my purse somewhere along the line. Not good. But there was a whole line of weapons in the hands of the suits of armor lining the corridor. They looked as lifeless and empty as museum pieces, but were actually part of the security system.
"Casanova," I said very carefully. "Order the guards to attack it."
"I can't." He shook his head frantically, looking more panicked than I'd ever seen him.
"What do you mean, you can't? If you let me die, Mircea will kill you."
"And if you aid her, I will," the thing on the ceiling said, as if it was part of the conversation. "It is difficult, serving two masters, isn't it? I warned you it would become awkward one day."
"Two?" I finally got it. "That's Rosier, isn't it?" Casanova nodded dumbly. "You're not supposed to be back yet," I told the demon accusingly. Hadn't Pritkin said it would take at least a couple of days for him to recover? It hadn't been that long, had it? With all the time-hopping, I wasn't sure, but I didn't think so.
The thing tilted its head the other way—why, I don't know. It didn't have any eyes so it couldn't have been to see any better. "Well, I'm not at my best," it finally said.
I looked over at the twitching Casanova, who was going to collapse at any moment. "Go," I told him. "Help Pritkin. Do not let Nick get out of here and do not let him talk to anyone. I'll deal with this."
"You'll deal with this?" Casanova stared at me with no expression, like he just couldn't find one that fit.
"Yeah." I looked up again. It was gruesome, but it was small. I decided I could take it. "I already killed you once."
"Ah, yes, so you did. But then, that would be why I brought friends," it said mildly. Casanova fled.
"Friends?"
"Servants of a colleague who owes me a favor. My boys are good for many things, but killing is not really their forte. Now, usually I would make this relatively quick," it continued. "But after the other day, I am afraid I will have to break my habit. A little matter of prestige. You know how it is."
"Sure." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something small and glowy emerge from the stairs.
"Now hold still, because this is going to hurt like a bitch."
"Right back at you," the pixie said, and threw her tiny sword like an arrow. It hit the thing square in the not-eyes, provoking a shriek of mingled pain and rage.
I twisted my neck around and saw Françoise running down the stairs toward me, looking more than a little frazzled. Her dress was torn in three different places, one of which was oozing a widening stain, and her eyes were huge. Radella, darting around in the air in front of me, looked okay, however. Human weapons might not be able to hurt a demon, but it looked like the Fey had more luck.
I turned around to face Rosier, feeling somewhat calmer. Only to see pieces of the darkness peeling away from the floor, from the corners and from the walls, all along the corridor. I still couldn't focus on any of them, but I got the feeling that Casanova had probably been right: I didn't want to.
"Uh-oh," the pixie said unhelpfully.
"What's going on?" I asked, and Françoise broke into a rapid stream of French that I didn't have the time or the ability to translate. "Radella!"
"We've been trying to get to the children." She gestured toward the end of the hall. "That thing has half of them trapped in the kitchen."
"Are they all right?"
"For now. The staff is protecting them, but they won't hold. Not if those things attack."
"But Fey magic works on demons!"
Radella zoomed in front of my face, her own furious. "Yes, and if I had warriors to work with instead of cooks, it might even be enough! As it is—"
"What are you saying? You can't break through?"
"We stormed the back door. I managed to get past their forces, but the witch almost got herself killed. And I can't do much alone."
Billy Joe floated down through the ceiling. "We got another problem," he said quickly, not even pausing to chew me out for leaving him with this mess. "Our buddy over there sent some of his boys upstairs. They're there now, with the kids. And I have no power against demons, Cass."
He, Françoise and Radella were all looking at me, and after a stunned second I realized that they were waiting for instructions. Like I was supposed to know how to get us out of this. And Agnes would have, I thought grimly. Maybe even Myra would have h
ad a few ideas. But I had nothing.
"I have a proposition for you, pixie," Rosier gasped. I looked up to see that he had worked Radella's sword loose. What was left of it dropped to the ground with a clatter. It wasn't much more than a hilt—the rest appeared to have been eaten away, like with acid. "Leave now and I will waive retribution for your misguided actions."
"I may have a better offer," I said quickly.
Radella looked from the remains of her sword to me. "It better be a good one, human!"
"How would you like to have the rune? Not just to cast, but permanently? It only takes a month to recharge after each use, so you could have as many children as you want. Your friends could even…"
I trailed off because she had gone motionless, as if all the bones had suddenly liquefied inside her skin. She looked for a minute like she'd had the air knocked out of her, but then she licked her lips, slow and precise, and looked at me with a drowning expression in those huge lavender eyes. "What do you want?" It came out as a whisper.
"Find a way to get the kids out and it's yours."
"Are you deaf? I already told you, there is no way!"
"Can the demons follow you into Faerie?"
"What? No! Or if they did, they wouldn't last long," she said with an evil smile. "But how does that—"
"Go back into the kitchen and summon the portal. Take the kids into Faerie, then return with them once it's safe."
"And how do I do that? Even assuming I could break through the lines again, I'd need a death to power the portal. And your ghost told me—"
"You'll have it."
"What?"
"No way, Cass. Stop right there." For once Billy sounded deadly serious. Which meant he was quicker on the uptake than Radella.
"There will be a death," I told her. One way or the other. "Does it matter which of us it is, me or that thing?"
The pixie was silent for a moment. "No. The spell won't care."
Françoise had been looking back and forth between the two of us, trying to keep up with the conversation. "What? What is this? What is 'appening?"
"In a minute. Radella, did you see a little girl in the kitchen—blond, brown eyes, about five?"
"There were several younger children. I didn't—"
"Clutching a bear? She never goes anywhere without it."
"No."
I nodded. It was the first good news I'd heard. "Billy, I need you to find a way out of the casino for the kids upstairs. One of them, a little girl, is clairvoyant. She should be able to hear you. Get the kids out into the open. Into direct sunlight." Pritkin had said that worked on most demons. I only hoped these were among that number.
"Right. I'll go play with the kiddies while you sacrifice yourself. Not happening."
"I don't have time to argue!" I said, tugging off his necklace and putting it into Françoise's hands. "Give this to the little clairvoyant. I think her name is Jeannie," I told her. She took it, but looked very confused; I wasn't sure how much of this she was able to understand.
"What do you think you're doing?" Billy demanded.
"If I don't make it, she'll look after you."
"That's not the point!" he said, more angry than I'd ever seen him.
"Billy will find you a way out," I told Françoise. "Look for three old crones—they will probably be in the lobby." Casanova had said the Graeae were drawn to trouble. I just hoped they hadn't decided to take the day off. "They'll help you get to the kids."
"A ghost, three old women and a witch who has already fought us and lost," Rosier mused. "Personally, I would reconsider, pixie."
I didn't even bother to look at Radella. I knew how she'd choose; the expression on her face had been eloquent. Besides, Françoise had me in a hug that was threatening to choke me. "No! I weel not leave you again!"
"I am Pythia!" I said, detaching her arms with a less-than-dignified struggle. "And you will do as I say."
"Yes, do as she says, witch. You're no match for us," Rosier added helpfully.
Françoise turned on him, eyes furious, and uttered a single, harsh word. It wasn't the liquid syllables of French, or any other language I knew. It was low and guttural, and the power behind it made my skin crawl. Something flew straight at Rosier, something I couldn't see too well in the low light, but he turned it back with a tiny, casual gesture. The spell slammed into the stained-glass window above my head, sending a shower of brightly colored shards raining down all around me.
I grabbed Françoise by the arms before she could try again, shaking her as hard as I could. "He's right! You can't help me. But you can help them! Now get out of here. Go!" I gave her a shove toward the stairs.
She looked from me to the demon and back again, confusion and pain on her face. I don't know what she would have decided if Rosier hadn't flicked a finger, sending several dark shapes peeling away from the main mass. They didn't bother with the stairs, but shot straight up through the ceiling. Straight toward the rest of the children.
I was going to point out that Rosier must be more worried about her power than he let on, to send reinforcements. But I didn't get the chance. Françoise turned and ran.
Billy didn't budge. "Billy!"
"I—this—you can't seriously expect me to—"
"You can bring the cavalry back here once the kids are safe."
"You'll be dead by then!"
Rosier laughed. Apparently demons could hear ghosts, too.
"And how do you expect to prevent that if you stay?" I demanded. "Go where you can do some good!"
"Don't ask me to do this."
"Billy, please," I stopped, not knowing how to convince him. If he refused to help, it decreased Françoise's chances by a hell of a lot. The longer the kids stayed in the dark, the longer Rosier's servants had to find a way to destroy them. And Misfits or not, they were only children.
"The Cassie and Billy show, remember?" he said, suddenly tentative. "Where you go, I go."
"Except that doesn't work anymore." And God, didn't I miss the days when it did. "Please, Billy. Do this one thing for me."
His shoulders sagged and his face crumpled. "It better not be the last thing, is all," he said, quietly furious. "Because if you end up dead, I'm going to make your afterlife hell!"
Radella fluttered in front of my face the second he disappeared. "If you die, how do I get the rune?" she demanded.
"Pritkin. He'll give it to you, assuming you get the kids back safely. You can do that, right?"
"Yes."
"And take the kitchen staff with you." Miranda had said they'd defend a crèche with their lives. I wasn't real keen on having her prove it.
"But…they're Fey. Dark Fey," Radella said, as if maybe I hadn't noticed.
"What difference does that make? Just take them with you!" I didn't know that the demons would attack them once the kids were gone. But I didn't know that they wouldn't, either. Rosier certainly seemed to have the concept of revenge down cold.
Radella was silent for a moment. Then I heard a softly spoken, lyrical sentence, almost like bells ringing. "What was that?"
"Nothing." She sounded embarrassed. "Just…good luck, Cassie."
I felt the rush of air as she flew past me, and Rosier smiled his ghastly smile. "A Fey blessing. So rare. And so useless, outside Faerie." The black cloud had finished assembling minutes before and hung in the air behind Rosier, awaiting his pleasure. "I told you I'd trade you the lives of the children for your sacrifice. You should have made the deal. Now you die, and so do they."
I was going to tell him that I preferred to trust my allies over his word. But I didn't get the chance. The hideous, squirming mass suddenly froze, like soldiers coming to attention. Then it dove, straight at me.
Chapter 27
I screamed, too exhausted to even pretend I wasn't terrified. The damn knights remained inert, incapable of detecting the creatures who were about to kill me. But a plume of fire, the strength of maybe a couple dozen flamethrowers, shot out of the other end of the cor
ridor.
Maybe Casanova had installed some new security measure; I didn't know. But whatever it was, it was effective. The cloud screamed with the sound of a hundred voices, and writhed madly in the air, a twisting, burning black mass that reminded me of the maggots working on Saleh's headless body.
The glare of the flames glinting off the armor shed more light on the scene, although I might have been happier in the dark. Rosier dropped from the ceiling to land in the middle of the corridor with a faint plopping sound. Then something jumped me from behind, sinking what felt like a rack of small knives into my back.
I shrieked and staggered back, hitting the wall and driving the claws in that much farther. I lurched back into the room and let my gaseous knives loose, but they took one look at the larger fight going on a few yards away and deserted me. I looked around frantically, but although there were about a hundred weapons of various kinds in the knights' hands I didn't see any that would help dislodge something that high on my back that I couldn't even see.
Another of the things latched on to my left arm, piercing deep enough to hit bone, while another attached itself to my right thigh. I went down to my knees, blinded by pain and shock, only to realize that the things weren't continuing the attack. Instead, they forced me onto my back, pinning me down, waiting. I raised my head a little to look between my feet, and saw why.
Rosier was crawling my way, dragging himself forward with those spindly arms, his rudimentary legs trailing behind. His face turned unerringly toward me, despite the empty eye sockets, and over the screeching of the burning demons I could hear the soft sound of scales whispering over the floor. He looked harmless, a vague, unfinished creature with a toothless mouth and small, barely formed claws. But I so didn't want him touching me.
He flowed bonelessly over my feet and onto my legs, long, too flexible fingers curling around my calves, my knees, my thighs as he pulled himself along the length of my body. And already I could feel a faint echo of that horrible, draining sensation. He was beginning to feed.
