Darkbound

by Scott Tracey

  “Just tell us what’s going on,” I said, raising my voice before Jenna snapped and lost it. I continued questioning Cole. “Did someone tell you to burn down the library? Did they talk about a book they hated or something?”

  Jenna looked my way and I waved her back towards me. Just as carefully as she’d stepped into the ring of books, she stepped back out. Her steps were careful in a way that Jenna was never careful. Cole’s weirdly blank expression wasn’t just freaking me out.

  He stood taller, straining for every inch. “This is the best alternative. I see that now. I didn’t always see it, but now it’s clear.” His conviction wavered for a moment, his words uncertain. “If—if there aren’t any books, then there won’t be any English class. And if we don’t have English class, then no one has to fail.”

  It sounded like it made sense, but I didn’t buy it. Maybe someone had vented to him about their grade in English, and Cole took it too far to eliminate the problem. At least he wasn’t trying to kill someone, or proving his self-inflicted love. But in the hesitations and moments between his words, I saw something else. Something I couldn’t understand.

  “I’m sure she’s a nice girl,” I ventured, “but I’ve got a better idea. A way that you can get rid of that English class entirely without having to set anything on fire.”

  His response was pure petulance, shades of the old Cole. “But I want to set it on fire.”

  “And then what happens to you?” Jenna demanded. “Not exactly the time to be a ringleader, Cole.”

  “This is the best alternative!” Cole insisted. “Why don’t you see that? There has to be a fire!”

  I looked around, trying to be as subtle as possible. Where was Quinn? There were any number of spells that Cole could invoke that would snap to life before we even had a chance to stop it. Spells to create fire were a dime a dozen, and all he would need was a candle’s worth of flame to set the whole thing in motion.

  “We’re just trying to understand, buddy. Just explain it so the rest of us understand,” I said, but I wondered if being rational was exactly the wrong approach to take. Maybe it had nothing to do with being logical at all.

  “I’m in love!” Cole shouted, his frustration escalating. I spotted Quinn as he blurred into visibility from behind Cole, approaching at a still, slow walk. Each step was chosen with care, and he hesitated with every one, making sure it made as little noise as possible.

  “This is not the kind of awkward burning sensation you’re supposed to have when you’re in love!” I fired back.

  Jenna just looked at me. Even Quinn’s eyebrows judged me.

  Cole’s eyes narrowed and he just stopped. And the gut feeling I had—the feeling that for whatever reason, Cole was lying to us and setting this fire for some other reason altogether, screamed out a warning. His mouth opened in anger—

  Quinn was on him instantly, one gloved hand covering his mouth and the other across the forehead. He whispered spells under his breath, and shifted his hold when Cole’s eyes rolled up in his head and he started to slump.

  That was all it took. A few whispered words and Cole was incapacitated.

  I looked at the design of books and crouched down to run my fingers along one of them. I expected my fingers to come away wet, evidence of gasoline or whatever else Cole was going to use to ignite the building, but there was nothing. When I tried to kick some of the books aside, they hung together, latched together like magnets.

  I tried to pry them apart by hand. They gave, eventually, and with a significant amount of force, but as soon as I waved them closer together, they would snap back into place.

  “Impressive,” Jenna said, kneeling down beside me. “I wouldn’t have expected something like this out of Cole.” She looked up and studied the line of books, her lips moving slightly as she worked through something in her head.

  Quinn had him in a fireman carry, easily thrown over one shoulder. “Come on, I want to get him out of here. I’ll have the library locked down until we can get someone in here to undo whatever it was that Cole was working towards.”

  “It’s some sort of resonance spell, but they usually only amplify sound,” Jenna said, her voice coming from far away. She reached out, ran her fingers along one of the books. “This is complicated. I can’t even follow it all. It might be making his spell … bigger? Where’d Cole learn how to do something like this?”

  “That’s not important now,” Quinn said, either from impatience or the strain of holding up our little brother.

  Jenna looked forlorn as I dragged her away from the books, her forehead still furrowed in thought even after we’d left the building. “Yeah, you wouldn’t think so,” she said in an aside to herself.

  Quinn drove us straight to the hospital, which was now completely under the Congress’s control.

  “How many kids are in here already?” Jenna asked.

  “About a hundred and thirty.” There were only five hundred kids in our school. In just a couple of weeks, the Prince had infected nearly a quarter of the school.

  We had to pull around the rear because of all the construction. I grabbed Cole and we headed back into the hospital. A pair of older women dressed like nurses waited for us inside with a gurney. Once I set him down, one of the women brushed the fringe off his forehead and murmured spells into his skin.

  “Put him in with Justin, please,” Quinn said from behind us. One of the women smiled slightly and nodded, and then they pushed their way further into the hospital. “Give them a few minutes to get him settled and then you can probably go visit with both of them.”

  Quinn and I went to get coffee while Jenna took a seat in the waiting room. She kept wringing her hands, but whatever it was she tried to wipe away, it never gave up its hold.

  “That’s two,” I said quietly. “Three to go.”

  “Bailey’s here too,” Quinn said after a momentary pause, looking over my shoulder. “She had Kelly drive her here right after we left. I got the call after we went into the library. Cole freaked her out more than I thought. She’s worried she’ll do something again.”

  I closed my eyes. No wonder she wanted us to go on without her. I knew the things that Luca had done to her had left a mark, but I thought that with time she’d start to recover. But now I had to wonder if she’d ever have the chance.

  All of us were close in different ways. Some of us weren’t close at all, but Cole and Bailey had their own particular bond. Being the youngest, being the “kids,” they were often pushed to the side while we tried to protect them. They bickered and fought as much as anyone else, but they were probably the most realistic pair of siblings among us.

  That meant that Jenna and I were the only ones left. I hated to admit it, but I was surprised and a little impressed that Jenna had lasted this long.

  I touched Quinn on the shoulder before he could walk away, and then just as quickly snatched my hand back. He turned, looking down at his shoulder before he met my eyes. “I’m going to stop in to Luca’s room first.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What are you thinking?”

  I wasn’t thinking anything, to be honest. But I still couldn’t let go of the idea that Luca was somehow involved. That he was the one who was hosting the Prince. It made sense, if the Prince was attached to his life energy, then keeping Luca in a coma meant he had free rein of the town.

  “I just want to check in. Who knows, maybe crazy uncle Charlie will be there and I can ask him a few more questions.”

  I made my way back up to Luca’s floor, only this time it was more active. All the doors were still propped open, but now there were witches walking up and down the halls. When I went to his room and found it empty, I had to trail my way back to the nurse’s station. The nurse had given me the creepy wide eyes that said she knew exactly who I was, and would I please refrain from killing her horribly?

  “Far end of the hal
l,” she squeaked. “Last room on the left.”

  Even in the middle of a crisis, some people couldn’t forget how much they hated or feared us.

  I didn’t expect to learn anything new from Luca. But maybe staring at him would somehow make things make more sense. Was that how Moonset had killed the last Abyssal Prince? Did they kill the girl, and the demon along with her? Was that really all I would have to do to stop the Prince from hurting Justin and the others?

  But what if I was wrong?

  I stopped short of Luca’s door, stilled by the sound of someone’s voice. Someone vaguely familiar.

  “Almost time, now, little Luca. Just a few more hours and everything will fall into place just the way it was meant to. All you have to do is just keep sleeping, and I’ll wait for your cousin.”

  I knew that voice. Masculine, but not too masculine. Beaten down and weathered.

  “Are you coming in, Malcolm? Or just going to lurk in the hallways all night?”

  I stepped into the doorway, and saw Matthew Dugard, the curio shop owner, sitting on the edge of Luca’s bed, a small book in his lap.

  “Nice to see you again, son,” Matthew said pleasantly. “I was just telling Luca why I sold him this little ditty.” He waved the book in my face. “When you think about it, it’s impressive. He almost broke the town, and all it took was a couple of pages from Twenty-three.”

  “What is that?”

  Matthew looked surprised. “It’s a primer to the black arts, obviously. The very volume that young Luca Denton turned to in an hour of crisis.”

  “And why do you have it? Where did it come from?”

  “Two very good questions,” Matthew said. He lacked the amiable presence he had in his store, behind the mask there was nothing but a bitter weariness. “The answer to the first question is that I’m taking it back. But haven’t you figured out the answer to the second already?”

  “You sold it to him.”

  “I gave it to him.” Matthew peeled the hearing aid from his ear and now his smile was cold and cruel. “Close the door, son. Let’s have a chat.”

  twenty-eight

  The most insidious part of Moonset was the way they preyed upon the weak minded. So many soldiers recruited to their cause were hurting

  and damaged. They made the perfect

  sleeper agents, hidden in plain sight.

  Moonset: A Dark Legacy

  “You gave Luca the book.” I didn’t close the door. I wasn’t an idiot.

  “It was a gift,” Matthew demurred. “Given to me to hand over to just the right individual.”

  The hearing aid was a tiny worm of plastic on the ground between us. “And that?” I asked. “Some sort of game?”

  Matthew set to adjusting the blankets around Luca, pulling them snug and tight up against his skin, and tucking

  them in around the sides. “A test. The great and powerful Illana Bryer barely had a second thought for me. You know, I hoped to be caught by now. I never thought it would take this many years. But I was faithful. So very faithful.”

  I’d heard fervor like that before. The ecstasy in the words, the chaotic light in the eyes. Moonset had been many things, but one of the worst parts was the cult that grew up around them. An army of lunatics who lived and died for them. I took a step back. “I’m getting Quinn.”

  “Do you even know what it’s like? To be smarter than everyone around you? I’ve waited for years to be discovered. And for what? Nothing. I gave Luca the book, blatant as sin, and still they didn’t find me.”

  “He’s in a coma.”

  Matthew nodded sadly, and set the book carefully where Luca’s lap would be, if he were awake. It was almost like he’d been reading just before he fell asleep, and the book had been left forgotten in his lap. “After all I did for him, and he couldn’t do this one little thing for me.”

  “Why is it so important that you get caught?”

  “What good is a movement without a martyr?” Matthew walked away from the bed. “I could have gone to my glory with my head held high—taken down with him and killed without ever admitting everything. But he had to go to sleep and ruin everything.” He shook his head, hands constantly in motion, brushing his pants, touching his shirt, scratching his face. “He’s never going to wake up, you know.”

  “I figured.” He wouldn’t wake up as long as the Abyssal Prince was up and moving.

  A faint smile, one that might have been filled with shades of mockery, crossed his lips. There was a crank for the window, which he spun around until it wouldn’t spin any further. Hospital windows didn’t open very far, most likely so that patients couldn’t hurt themselves. A tiny whisper of air escaped into the room. The humor in his voice intensified. “Did you?” Whatever the joke was, I wasn’t in on it.

  “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who summoned the Abyssal Prince last time. You were the one that started all of this.”

  He pushed his fingers between the slats of the shades and spread himself a little window, peeking out into the afternoon light. “You would think that, wouldn’t you? Oh, no, I was a late recruit. They asked me to stay behind. Told me they’d be in touch. And for years I kept my beliefs to myself. Prayed every night for your father to make me strong, and to Sherrod for wisdom. Ten years. And then he showed up on my doorstep and told me what had to happen. God, he was magnificent. Their living heir. He made me a true disciple.”

  “Cullen Bridger.” The terrorist trained by Moonset. The one who had hunted us our entire lives. He’d sent a wraith to kidnap us back in Kentucky. And all the while, he’d had someone working for him here in Carrow Mill.

  Matthew inhaled at the sound of his name, sighing like he’d smelled the sweetest fragrance. “I know his true name. He told me. The name you know is just a mask. He is so much more than that.”

  A breeze worked its way into the room from the crack in the window, and with it, the smell of something sharp and harsh carried to my nose. Gasoline. Not a lot, but enough.

  “You think if you kill Luca, that it will send the Abyssal back to his prison?” The man’s smile was slow, beaming, and utterly unhinged. “Let’s test that theory out,” he said, producing a packet of matches like a magician coaxing a dove from a hat. And with just as practiced a motion, he struck one against the back, and when it caught fire he held it up to the rest so that the entire packet started to burn. All that, in the time it took me to process what was happening.

  He threw the packet onto Luca’s bed. The blankets caught fire easily.

  I pressed further into the room, but Matthew was there to block me before I got more than two feet inside. He was stronger than he looked. Or I was weaker than I thought. He had no problem pinning my arms behind me and shoving me against the wall.

  “Come on, Malcolm. Don’t you see?” He pulled my chin to the right, forcing me to see the fire growing thicker, the smoke billowing up darker and darker.

  “You have to be tested, Malcolm. You have to earn it. Come on. Use your magic. Save the boy. This is your chance to be everything that fate has designed for you. Take up the mantle.”

  “I’m not a hero,” I growled. I knew spells to start little fires, same as Cole, but I didn’t know anything that would help put them out. If Justin were here, he could have stopped it. Jenna too.

  But I wasn’t entirely helpless. I reached deep down inside, to the place where the Coven bond attached to me, and reached for the magic that wasn’t quite magic. It was faster than instinct, I reached for it at the same time as it reached for me, two missed connections that finally came together in a ray of light.

  I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and a sound deeper than anything inside of me emerged, a sound more real than anything I’d ever said before. The word was a hazy rush in my ears, I couldn’t even say for sure what it was that I’d spoken. My body reacted on autopilot, trembling as the word t
ried to force its way out.

  Whatever the curio shop guy had done to me, the spell sliced right through it. Cut through his magic and scattered the shreds into the air. My strength returned even as his vanished, and I pushed him off me easily. He stumbled to the ground, collapsed into a puddle of himself.

  A wind like a hurricane swept through the room, snuffing the flames and throwing the blankets clear from Luca’s body. The curtains ripped away from their rods, the other hospital bed crashed against the window, and Matthew shot against the far wall. Somewhere out in the hall there was the sound of sirens, screeching noises that were dull to my ears compared to the roaring inside. It tore away the scent of burning cotton and cooked meat, but not fast enough.

  Energy buzzed through me, a surge of endorphins and adrenaline that could have made anything possible. But before I could do anything, before I could try to find help for Luca—oh god, his legs!—there was a new sound. The angry clash of bells, vibrating the air itself.

  “Thank you,” Matthew whispered from the floor as the Abyssal Prince strode into the room. The sounds from the hallway dwindled and muted in his wake, and the view of the hallway became flat and acrylic, a painting instead of a door. There were tears in Matthew’s eyes, and he prostrated himself down on hands and knees. Worshipful.

  Luca still slept, despite the fact that his legs were ravaged. But the fire had been caught before it spread too far, and the equipment breathing for him continued to do its job.

  “Do not thank me, mule. You put your hands on my human.” The Prince’s lips drew back in a sneer. Contempt and fury boiled the room alive. “Beg.”

  “Forgive me!”

  The hollow cry didn’t do anything to appease the Prince. The sneer widened so much that it exposed the silver teeth inside his mouth. “Weakness.” The disgust in his tone forced Matthew down onto his belly. The man mewled, a pitiful sound full of keening and despair. The Prince’s words crippled him. They never crippled me, and I was just a bystander.