by Ilana Waters
“Arthur!” Abigail and I cried out. He’d landed on top of Tarik, who was unmoving. I rushed over to them, and Arthur quickly got up, holding his bolt-less crossbow in front of him. The other vampires looked at Tarik, who lay with eyes closed on the cavern floor.
“Is he . . . ?” one of them started to say. Their eyes darted from me to Tarik, unsure of whether to pursue the crystal or feign concern for their leader.
Placing the crystal back in my pocket, I leaned over Tarik and swallowed hard, every muscle in my body tense. Blood was running down his nose and over his cheek from where Arthur hit him with the crossbow. Funny—a simple fall like that shouldn’t kill a vampire, I thought.
Tarik’s eyes flew open, and Titus shouted, “Joshua, look out!” But I didn’t move fast enough, and Tarik grabbed me around the throat as he rose to his feet.
Oh, hell. I really should’ve seen that coming.
Instantly, it was clear Tarik was much stronger than Cedric, the vampire in the alley. Or maybe Tarik was just angrier at me than Cedric had been. Either way, I could feel the small bones of my neck cracking under his fingers.
I tried to pull Tarik’s arm off my throat, but that proved pointless. Instead, I held onto his arm and hurled my body backward. Tarik flipped over me and landed on his back, still holding my throat. I thrust the palm of my hand against his nose and heard the predictable, nauseating crunch. Now Tarik let go of my neck, but only to punch me in the face and roll me over.
“Get them!” he ordered the other vampires, using his free hand to point towards my parents and Arthur. Then he looked down at me, breathing only through his mouth, his nose askew and dripping blood. “You’re mine, you little son of a bitch.”
Oh dear. I was flat on my back—the worst possible position in a fight. My lip was throbbing, and my mouth tasted like metal. I wondered offhandedly if I’d lost any teeth. It’s the kind of detached thought that goes through one’s mind when faced with certain death.
“Really,” I said to Tarik as he straddled me. “You’re not nearly as sexy as you think.” Then—still on my back—I used magic to spin around 360 degrees like a top, knocking Tarik off balance. He fell on his side, and I got up, only to begin immediately warding off his furious blows.
This was definitely worse than fighting Cedric. Not only was Tarik stronger, he was faster. And half of what Cedric did to me seemed to be just for fun.
Not Tarik. Tarik was a vampire on a mission. He landed hit after hit, his face a combination of fierce determination and homicidal rage. He was going to have that crystal no matter what it took. I felt bones break and skin slice open all over my body. I was throwing as many rounds of magic as possible, but it was all I could do to shield myself.
Only the adrenaline kept me from being utterly exhausted. I was sure every last strike would be the one that did me in. My body hurt so much, all I wanted to do was lie down and die. But dying was not an option, so I kept hurling magic, rejoicing just a little when it stung enough to show in Tarik’s face. Then I heard my father scream.
Have you ever heard a vampire scream? I mean, really scream? You may have gotten a taste of it before, when I was battling Cedric, or when Abigail speared Rickman. It’s not the way a mortal screams, though that is also painful to hear. A vampire scream is a truly ungodly sound, like nails on a chalkboard made of nails.
The sound tore into my skull like high-frequency acid. I bent over and covered my ears with my hands, though it did little good. Although Tarik could have taken that opportunity to deliver my death blow, I was fortunate he chose to laugh instead. Then I turned and saw why.
The three remaining vampires had surrounded my father and somehow managed to set him on fire. I didn’t know if they had matches, a lighter . . . I didn’t see. But he was engulfed in flames while my mother and Arthur stood only feet away, crying out his name. They didn’t dare come any closer, lest they be set ablaze as well.
My father’s element was fire, so he should have been able to put it out. But as I said, he was covered in flames, and I wagered weak from the blood loss that came with fighting. To say my own blood ran cold would be an understatement. It was as if my blood turned to liquid nitrogen. Can he die? Can my father, the great Titus Aurelius, actually die?
No—that could not be. He was the hardest and strongest man I knew. I couldn’t imagine a world without him—or my mother. They were going to beat the odds and be the only true immortals, the ones who really did live forever. I wasn’t going to find and save one only to lose the other.
Tarik was still watching me watch my father, and laughing. Without thinking, I ran across the cavern and hurled myself onto Titus. With both arms around him, we crashed into the wall, and I used every bit of magic to will the air around the fire to leave.
Fires can’t live without oxygen. You are dying, fire, dying. It was suddenly much harder to breathe than it had been underground when Blackline tried to bury me alive. I silently cursed myself for not taking a deep breath beforehand. I could only imagine what Titus was feeling as he struggled against my grip.
The acrid smell of burning cloth filled my nostrils, using up what little air was in my lungs. Just below that was the ungodly stench of burning flesh—my father’s, mine . . . I couldn’t tell whose. Everything felt so white-hot, I didn’t know if it was my clothes or my skin. But slowly, the fire died down. Only when I saw wisps of smoke begin to rise from us did I dare let the air return.
I rolled onto my back and saw Titus on his hands and knees, coughing and retching. I gasped over and over, taking huge, greedy gulps of air. My heart was beating so hard, I thought it would tear through my chest. My hands were a mess of red, angry marks. I put one palm to my face, and cried out when my fingers met tender, swollen skin.
Finally, Titus stumbled to his feet, looked down at me in disbelief, and offered his burned hand. I grabbed it as firmly as I dared without tearing the blistered skin off. He pulled me up, still staring, still not speaking. His clothes were like charcoal, and the front of mine was much the same. Pieces of flesh were peeling down his face; he must be in unspeakable pain. But he said not a word about it, and he was alive. My father was alive.
We were surrounded again. Tarik and the three other vampires stood in front of us; at our backs was the cave wall. Finally, we were four against four, but it was hardly an even match. Abigail was trying to heal Titus, but it was only working in fits and spurts. Arthur aimed his bolt-less crossbow at the vampires, clutching it with white fingers on his uninjured hand. I looked at Tarik, pleased to see the scorch marks my magic had made on his face, not to mention his broken nose. But those alone weren’t going to save the day.
“So, what’ll it be?” Tarik was smiling, but it wasn’t the amused smile of before. It was the satisfied smile of a man who’s about to get exactly what he wants. “Give us the crystal now,” he said, “and we’ll end this as painlessly as possible. Promise.”
Liar. I glanced at Arthur, who seemed to be waiting for me to do something. My mother’s eyes were filled with pain, and Titus just looked . . . defeated. And I still couldn’t think of a way to get us out alive.
A few more pebbles fell from above, and I remembered what my father said earlier. Even if we escaped these murdering degenerates, there was the very real threat of the ceiling caving in on us. Vampires and mages may not be able to die by suffocation, but an enormous chunk of rock could certainly knock our heads off, to say nothing of Arthur.
Wait—that’s it! If I could bring the ceiling of earth down on the vampires, at least they’d all be still and in one place for a moment. It wouldn’t kill them, but I knew what would.
I mentally scanned the ground above us, trying to see what was on top. I needed something heavy enough to make the ceiling collapse, but didn’t want innocent mortals to suffer if they didn’t have to. I concentrated hard, willing the earth to give up her secrets. Fields, hills . . . abandoned farmhouses—perfect! Several stables and outbuildings were directly
overhead. Plenty of weight, and no one had to die except a few mindless vampires. Hopefully. Slowly, I drew the crystal out of my jacket pocket and sighed.
“Joshua, don’t!” my mother begged.
“What choice do I have?” I asked. “You know,” I said to Tarik, “they say this came from the tip of a powerful witch-queen’s wand centuries ago. But it’s been in our family for as long as I can remember.”
“Fascinating,” said Tarik, putting his palm out. “I’ll be sure to note that in my memoirs.”
I bit my lip and looked down. “Still, if you want it . . .” I reached out as if to pass the stone to Tarik. But at the last second, I flung it into the center of the room towards the pedestal my mother had lain on. “Why don’t you go fetch it?”
Tarik looked at me just long enough to show, in his eyes, all the ways he’d kill me when this was over. Then he and the other vampires flew to the pedestal and scrambled around, frantically searching for the crystal.
“Where is it? I saw him throw it!”
“It has to be here somewhere; look all around.”
“Get that crystal and then TEAR THEM APART!” Tarik screamed.
“Everyone,” I said quietly, staring at the space above the pedestal, “I need you to move as far away from the center of the cave as you can.”
“Joshua, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked Titus.
“Trust me, Father,” I said.
“You’re going to get us all killed!” Titus barked, but his voice was raspy.
“I’m trying to stop us from getting killed, if you’ll just give me a chance,” I snapped. Really. I’ve just saved his life, and he still doesn’t have faith in me?
“Let him be, Titus,” Abigail pleaded. “What have we got to lose?”
“Only everything,” Titus replied. Still, he began edging along the cavern wall with Abigail, away from the platform.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, son,” breathed Arthur. He lowered the crossbow and cradled his broken fingers, slowly moving in the opposite direction of my parents.
“So do I,” I whispered. I concentrated as hard as I could on the earth above the vampires, willing it to weaken, loosen. Blast—I wasn’t as good with earth magic as I was with air. Abigail was really the person for this job. But she was too weakened after her ordeal: not only fighting, but being kidnapped and lying asleep for nearly twenty years. Doing such great magic right now might kill her.
It was up to me; there was no other way. I clenched my fists so tightly, I thought my fingers would break. My teeth ground against each other, and my jaw tensed so hard, I swore the muscles would tear.
“What’s he doing?” Arthur asked, his voice trembling.
“Shhh—let him concentrate,” hissed Titus. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abigail’s nails digging into my father’s arm, her face pale.
The vampires were still desperately looking for the crystal, their eyes scanning the ground, fingers clawing the stone.
“Maybe it fell over the side,” said one, a tinge of panic in his voice.
“No,” said Tarik. “I know I saw it land here. Will you just find it alread—”
Suddenly, the whole cave seemed to vibrate. It was just a tremor at first, and the earth sounded like it was growling. Then, the vibrations got stronger, the rumbling sounds louder. Rocks, dirt, and debris began coming down, along with some smaller stalactites. Titus—even with his wounded arms—gently pushed Abigail back when one fell near her. Arthur put his hand to the wall for support as the ground beneath him shook. He, my parents, and the vampires looked this way and that, all over the cave. I stood in front, arms spread towards the ceiling, not daring to break my focus.
“What the devil’s going on?” asked another vampire. The entire cave was shaking hard now, and even he was having trouble keeping his balance.
“Is it an earthquake?” a different one asked.
Please please please . . . No. Begging wouldn’t help. I needed to be in control. I thought of particles dissolving, of bonds breaking, of forces inescapable as gravity. It seemed so real, I felt magical pieces of myself start to break apart, held down only by the heaviness of earth. In fact, I was so heavy, I could no longer stand. Sinking to my knees, my aching arms still outstretched, I mentally pulled at the ground above me with all my might.
It worked, and the ceiling finally came down. The noise from the crash was deafening, and the ground around us shook even more from the force of it. The vibrations were so strong that Abigail staggered into my father, who held her up. Arthur stumbled back against the wall he’d been leaning on. I fell off my knees, scrambling to get up and run in the direction of my family. One vampire was knocked off the platform and impaled on a stalagmite, where he lay screaming and writhing. The others were buried in a mountain of debris. Too late, Tarik turned and saw me. He opened his mouth to speak, but the earth just kept falling, and he sank beneath it with the rest.
Time to go in for the kill. I held my palms in front of me, shoulders’ length apart, facing each other. I spread my fingers and clutched at the air, as if I were holding an invisible ball. I pushed the rubble around the vampires together, tighter, tighter, bending it to my will. I thought of fossils and marble and all other manner of hardened earth. Inside, the vampires were screaming—horrid cries not unlike the one my father made only a short while ago. But as harsh as it sounds, these screams were music to my ears. They meant I was winning, and my enemies were losing.
The vampires tried to claw their way out, but earth magic—with all its stubbornness—held them inside. They tore at the sphere all around them, arms and legs pushing against it like a thin sheet of rubber. At last, their screams died down, and they stopped thrashing. I could see Tarik’s outstretched fingers, his almost-freed face twisted in agony. His arm reached through the air in one last, desperate attempt to escape. Then it froze, along with his gruesome face, in a hard, gray mask of death.
I had turned all the vampires to stone.
Chapter 24
For a few moments, all was stillness. The vibrations finally stopped, but I could still feel them in my feet, my hands. There was nothing above us but the outer edges of the ceiling and a pool of starry, ink-black sky. A few rocks fell from the ceiling’s rim, echoing as they hit the floor, the sound drifting into the night.
“You did it, Joshua!” Abigail whispered. Then, louder: “You really did it!” She swept in, whooped, and hugged me. I managed to wince only a little, seeing how I was covered in bruises.
“Yes, rather well done,” Titus agreed, walking over and surveying the huge orb of stone that contained the vampires.
Rather? Still, you probably know by now that warm words from Titus are few and far between. And I certainly knew better than to expect a hug. “It was nothing,” I said.
“Have to admit,” said Arthur, smiling wearily as he came to my side, “never in all my years at the PIA did I see anything like that. But it was a pity you had to lose the crystal,” he added.
“What, this?” I asked, pulling the stone out of my back pocket. “Really, Arthur—all those years as a paranormal investigator. You ought to know a bit of glamour when you see it, eh?”
Abigail laughed, while Titus folded his arms and shook his head. Arthur grinned and gave me a smack on the arm. This time, I did wince.
Then I looked down at my hands, which I only just realized were singed from the fire. I already knew I had burned parts of my face as well. I ran my tongue around my mouth, and found that I hadn’t lost any teeth as I’d feared earlier. Thank God for small favors, I suppose.
I felt so drained from all that had happened—especially the spell—that I leaned against one wall for fear I would collapse. I was soaked in perspiration, almost looking like I’d taken a dip in a swimming pool. Working magic certainly takes it out of you, as the saying goes.
As I surveyed my family and Arthur, I saw everyone was in various stages of injury. We were all di
rty, scratched, and bruised, our clothing burned or torn.
“Quite a sight, aren’t we?” Arthur sighed. “I think I have some bandages and things in my bag . . .” But before he could retrieve it from beside the enormous pile of stone, Abigail called it to her hand and began rifling through it.
“No . . . not this one . . . not that either. Oh, this will never do.” Discarding the satchel, she fished some herbs out of a pouch in a pocket of her dress. Crushing them between her fingers, she made them hover in the air around Titus, reciting some ancient Wiccan words. His burns slowly began to heal, the patchy flesh of his face smoothing out. Titus cringed and gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Slowly, the crushed herbs fell down around him to the floor. By the time Abigail finished, he wasn’t completely healed, but he certainly looked better than before.
“You’re next.” Abigail pointed at Arthur. “Let’s see that hand.” Arthur swallowed hard and made no move towards her. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked, taking a gauze bandage out of the satchel. “Afraid of a little magic? Magic just saved your life, didn’t it?”
Arthur gave me an uneasy look, but I just jutted my chin towards Abigail. Reluctantly, he stood next to her and held out his injured hand, broken fingers dangling uselessly beside the others. Abigail wrapped the offending fingers in the bandage, along with some more herbs. She recited another spell while Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away. But when he looked back, Abigail had unwrapped the bandage to reveal his mended hand. Arthur’s eyes bulged, and he tried to curl and uncurl his fingers, only to cry out in pain.
“Sorry,” Abigail said quickly. “I should’ve warned you it’ll be a few days before they’re one hundred percent.”
