Desolate (Desolation)

by Ali Cross

  I took one step into their embrace. Stopped and closed my eyes.

  Only then did I realize I wasn’t alone.

  I held my eyes closed a moment longer, and when I opened them, my gaze zeroed in on the boy who stepped out from behind a tree, his eyes on me.

  “Eleon.”

  The corner of his lips moved upward in a slow half-smile. “Desolation.”

  For the first time in my life the sound of my name didn’t grate against my nerves. For the first time I noticed Eleon’s warm-like-honey voice. I took a step forward.

  He moved toward me and I had a flash, a glimpse of a memory—James walking toward me in my bedroom, want and desire laying like a cloak around him. I met Eleon half way. “My followers will be here any minute,” Eleon said. “They will be honored that you joined us.” I watched his pupils contract. “I am honored.”

  I felt his toes against mine. Heard the beat of his heart. Saw the vein in his neck pulsing with heat and life.

  His breath whisped over my lips, warm against my freezing skin.

  I am colder than him.

  My arm burned with freezing death.

  I am demon.

  The spear pulsed in my Shadow, calling me, tempting me.

  I am Hell.

  I reached for it, felt its evil resonate with my heartbeat.

  I am Desolation.

  I stepped back from Eleon, from his presumption that he could ever be anything more than the dirt beneath my feet. I spun the spear in my palm then thrust the butt of the staff against the demon’s sternum. With great satisfaction I watched him fall to his knees at my feet.

  “Eleon?” A girl’s voice cut through my consciousness like a warm knife through butter. Without thought I lashed out and punched a fist of air into the girl’s stomach. She landed on the ground with an oof! a couple yards away. Vamp-Girl stared up at me from the wet leaf-packed ground, her expression a mixture of fear and awe.

  And . . .

  I liked it.

  I stepped back and crossed my arms, watching her get to her feet. My Shadow quivered within my grip and for a second, a fraction of a second, I let it slip through my fingers. The woods darkened with my Shadow, direct from Hell. I felt the thrill of power when the girl’s eyes abandoned awe and widened with fear.

  Vamp-Girl dropped her chin to her chest and studied her shoes while she muttered, “Sorry,” under her breath. I had a brief flash of insight, an image of her sitting in a cushioned chair in front of Father’s throne. I’d thought she was a wannabe, someone Eleon lured around for fun but would discard whenever it suited him. Now I understood she was much more—she already belonged to Father, whether she knew it or not. He’d already reserved a place for her in Hell.

  Eleon sidled up to Vamp-Girl and slung his arm around her shoulders. They looked good together, but it was obvious she was meant for much greater things than him.

  “Desolation, this is Taige. Taige, meet Desolation.”

  Her mossy-green eyes glimmered as her lips quirked into a brief smile. “I know who she is.” She wasn’t being snarky or rude—her words rang with a hint of honor and respect that told me she truly knew who I was. She knew it. I wondered how far into Father’s confidences the girl had gone. And why I had never been granted such an honor despite centuries of sitting beside him on that wretched throne.

  A breeze snuck through the wood, pulling and tugging at my hair. The morning bell rang and when I turned my face toward the school I closed my eyes and let the breeze slide over my skin. It felt like sunshine, warm and gentle, and carried the hint of orange blossoms—impossible considering it was October.

  When I looked back at Eleon and Taige, shame washed over me. What was I doing there? With them? Without saying anything, I struck out across the cemetery and to my car. I needed to take a shower and brush my teeth about a zillion times.

  Not good, not good, not good, rattled through my brain. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

  I reached into my pocket for my keys but came up empty. So I kept walking, while twisting and digging through my pocket, my bag—where the hell are my keys?—when I bumped into someone. Again. A someone who felt like a brick wall.

  “Des.” James stood, arms crossed, his face a thundercloud beaming disapproval and something darker lurking in his eyes. He looked up, his gaze zeroing in on something distasteful behind me—I knew he watched Eleon and Taige as they walked out of the woods. He looked back at me, a muscle in his jaw jumping under the pressure of his glare. I could see him weighing whether or not he wanted to say something—or kick my butt right then and there. Finally he just turned and stalked away.

  “Come on. Miri needs you.”

  I jerked forward like he had me on a leash. When he didn’t open his car door for me, just climbed in and started the engine, I knew he was seriously pissed off.

  I slipped into James’ beefy muscle car and slammed the door. Who does he think he is, bossing me around? And it’s not like I can’t be friends with whoever I want. I don’t have to do everything with the Scooby Gang. It’s not like Michael’s around any—

  “Everything isn’t always about you, princess.” James kept a death-grip on the steering wheel as he pressed his foot to the gas pedal a little harder than he had to.

  “I didn’t say it was. And what the hell gives you the right to judge me, anyway?” I felt a really nice sense of self-righteousness rising to the surface. I’d love to get James in the dojo right now—I’d love to kick his ass.

  James shook his head but kept his mouth shut.

  “What? The silent treatment now? What the hell?”

  He still didn’t say anything, but he drove even faster. We peeled out of the parking lot and hit the main road, loose gravel flying out behind his rear wheels.

  James only sped up as we drove toward Desert Peak, and when he barely slowed up as he pulled into the parking lot of Desert Peak Memorial Hospital, he still hadn’t said a word.

  “Wait. You said—Miri’s not hurt is she?” I suddenly had visions of Miri dying and me spending all this time thinking about myself and my own stupid feelings. Typical. I was so not the friend she deserved—I wasn’t good enough for any of them.

  “Not Miri,” James said, wrenching his keys out of the ignition, getting out and slamming his door before I’d even moved. I hurried to follow.

  “Well if it’s not Miri—what are we doing here?” James had marched a few feet ahead of me, but he turned now and glared at me.

  “I think her mom might be dying and I wasted all this time getting you while you were playing house with those—those people and you have the nerve to be all pissy with me?” He shoved air out of his chest in an exasperated burst and started walking, or marching, again.

  “I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid, I know.” I jogged forward to catch up. I wanted to touch him, to get him to look at me, but I kept my hands to myself. “What’s going on?”

  “Car accident. Just shut up, okay? I got you, just like Miri asked. Just—” he grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop beside him. “Just be a friend, okay? For just this once think of Miri. And quit trying to make everything about you.”

  I opened my mouth to protest—I do not make everything about me—but he tightened his grip on my arm and narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” I said.

  He let go and I followed him into the hospital, past the emergency room, into the elevator and up to a floor called Intensive Care Unit. Into a small, airy waiting room where I saw Governor Carr, Miri’s dad, staring out a window—and Miri. Huddled in the arms of a big Hispanic woman—Connie—Miri’s body trembled with gut-wrenching sobs. I knew the feeling in the room and a distant part of me thrilled at its presence—death lived here.

  chapter seventeen

  I stood there like an idiot while Miri exchanged Connie’s comfort for James’. He held her to him, rocking slightly and stroking her hair. I watched her hands clasp and unclasp chunks of his shirt. Watched her face contort into a nearly unrecognizable vers
ion of herself.

  I hovered near the elevator, unsure how soon would be too soon before I could leave. Mr. Carr had his phone pressed to his ear and spoke in rapid shotgun-style sentences. Connie perched on the edge of a utilitarian chair, her face buried in her hands. The elevator opened and a wave of people rushed into the room, clustering first around Mr. Carr before a few broke off and descended upon Miri. She was reluctant to trade James’ comforting arms for the somewhat false-seeming back-pats and coos of, “Oh, I’m so sorries.”

  At first James stood beside her, or rather, held her upright. But after a moment, Connie stepped through the crowd and took control of the situation, which seemed to be exactly what Miri needed. Connie answered their questions and thanked them when Miri seemed incapable of saying anything at all.

  James stood beside me, his arm brushing against mine—but I didn’t feel any comfort in his closeness, no reassurance of his friendship.

  “You’re not gonna bail on this one, Des.” That’s right. He was Miri’s boyfriend first, my friend second. I got it. I really did. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “I know.”

  “She’s gonna need us, you know.”

  “I know,” I said again.

  “I thought I’d ask her if she wanted to sleep over tonight—I heard her dad tell someone on the phone that he’d be over for a meeting—figured Miri wouldn’t want to be alone.” He stared at Mr. Carr’s back while he said this, a distinct sheen of disapproval coloring his face. I wondered how much he’d dislike my own line of thoughts—I figured they were probably very similar to the governor’s. It made sense to me that he’d want to get away, to submerge himself in work rather than face the reality of his wife’s death. Perfect sense.

  It seemed like James didn’t think this was an appropriate response though, so I scoured my brain for the right thing to say. The non-Desi thing to say.

  “Okay,” I finally blurted, but I wondered if anything could ever be okay again.

  James turned so his body blocked my view of the room and pinned me to the wall behind me with his glare. “So you’ll stay in tonight—no patrolling.”

  “But—”

  “And you’ll make hot chocolate and sit beside her. You’ll even hold her if she needs you to.”

  “But you—”

  “She’s gonna need more than just me Des. She’s gonna need you. Believe it or not, you’re her best friend.”

  I slumped against the wall.

  “She loves you.”

  His words felt like a slap across my face. I knew they were true, but hearing them—feeling the weight of their meaning, the responsibility of them—knocked me breathless.

  “She loves you,” he said more gently. This time when he wrapped his hand around my upper arm, he did it softly, rubbing his thumb in comforting circles. “Do you know what that means? To her?” He held my gaze, refused to let me break away, to ignore his words . . . and their meaning.

  My mind filled with all the ways Miri had shown she cared about me. How she’d held me when I needed to cry. How she’d stayed next to me, even when it was hard, even when I totally didn’t deserve it. She’d seen—or at least glimpsed—the worst in me, and yet she still stood by me, still called me her friend.

  “I think so,” I finally said.

  James surprised me by pulling me into a hug and holding me tightly. After a moment I wrapped my arms around him and allowed him to ground me in the moment, to push away all the crap, all my doubts and worries, and just breathe.

  “Wanna tell me what was going on with you and that . . . kid?” I tensed and held my breath. James responded by rubbing my back in gentle circles, a gesture I’d come to know as his way of saying he was sorry, but that he wanted me to answer anyway.

  “Nothing.” Because it was nothing.

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing to me, Des.”

  Everything stopped. I didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. James’ hand stilled on my back. We both waited as if trying to hear the words that weren’t spoken out loud.

  “You saw?”

  He hugged me tighter. He’d seen.

  I sighed and dropped my arms, but James still didn’t let go. “I don’t know what it was. It just happened. I—” I pulled away from him, stepping out of the reach of his arms. “I don’t know. It was nothing. That’s all.”

  He watched me, weighing my answer against what, I didn’t know. Some internal James-o-meter of truth or something. He stuck his hands into his pockets and I knew he wouldn’t say anything more about it. Not then, anyway.

  “Why don’t you call the fogies and tell them about Miri? They’ll want to know.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and had my phone out before he’d even finished asking. “Okay, be right back.” Even though I had no intention of hurrying at all. James raised his eyebrow but didn’t say a thing. I pushed the button to call the elevator and contemplated taking the stairs instead while I impatiently watched the elevator door.

  “Wait.” Miri’s voice cut through the static in my brain and my blood froze in my veins. “You can’t go.” Her voice made my heart lurch and tears inexplicably sprang to my eyes. She sounded so broken, so sad. I turned toward her slowly, afraid to see her, to look into her eyes. Afraid I didn’t have it in me to be what she needed right now.

  But it was Miri, and she’d never made me work hard at our friendship. Whenever I didn’t know what to do, she did—she always did. She pushed past the crowd of mourners and when I faced her, she practically fell into my arms. Turns out all I needed to do was hold her.

  Hold, hold and hold her. She made it easy to be her friend, even when life was so, so hard.

  chapter eighteen

  Miri’s dad said goodbye to his daughter with a brief kiss on her cheek—such an inconsequential kiss he didn’t even have to take his phone from his ear.

  “Don’t stay out too late,” he said. As if she’d be out partying or something. As if her mother, his wife, hadn’t just died.

  Miri leaned into James and squeezed my hand and didn’t say a word to her father.

  She came back to our place where I pressed a hot cup of chocolate into her hand before leaving her and James snuggled on the couch. I closed the balcony door behind me and balled up Aaron’s coat in my arms, using it to pad the railing as I leaned against it. I avoided looking at the couple making out in the hot tub in the courtyard. I looked to my right, into the stand of pine, my eyes seeking the darkness. The shadows. And that’s where I saw him.

  Eleon stood beneath the boughs of a tall pine, a dark hoodie cloaking him in shadows even more effectively than the tree did. He stood leaning against the trunk, his arms folded on his chest. When my eyes met his, he bowed low, but I saw the smile on his face.

  Something inside me stirred. Something ugly and foreign. Something that made my heart race and my lip curl into a smile without my permission. A hiss escaped my lips and became a strangled cry as my right arm burned viciously cold. While I watched, a black tendril raced up my arm. I clamped my other hand tight to my forearm, desperate to stop the blackness from climbing higher. I scratched and clawed at my arm—I had to stop it, force it back.

  “No, no, no.” The words repeated with every breath, every inhalation. “No, no, no.”

  Then cold, strong hands were on my shoulders, turning me around, sliding down my arms. “Shh, shh,” Eleon said. He pried my fingers from my arm, curling his around it instead. He took a deep breath and I copied him. Our eyes locked and so I was watching him while they shifted from a light, muddy brown to the endless black of a demon. With slow deliberation he sunk to his knees and rested his forehead on my boots.

  For a moment I stood frozen, trapped between one life and another. His Shadow spread behind him, blocking the light from the apartment, cutting me off from that life, from Miri and James, from memories of Michael and Lucy, from my life as Desi Black. I pulled Aaron’s coat from the railing, clutc
hing the fabric in my fist. As I let my Shadow respond, I felt my human life slip away like stepping out of a dress.

  “Desi?” James called from inside the apartment. I could make out the shape of him rising from the couch, walking toward the balcony. My breath hitched—I should go back.

  But then I felt the spear, so near, so tangible. This—the Shadow, the spear, disciples to worship me—this was my heritage, who I’d always been. I let Aaron’s coat fall to the floor.

  When Eleon suddenly moved, hopped onto the railing and then dropped—only to soar into the sky—I followed.

  There was relief in this. Freedom in being what I should have been all along.

  Desolation.

  We flew to the cemetery and the woods behind it. I shouldn’t have been surprised. An ancient evil lurked there—probably because of its close proximity to the Door to Hell.

  I felt the gentle press against my mind, a request from Eleon, a lesser demon, to speak to me there. I granted him access, but didn’t initiate the conversation.

  Do you know the history of these woods?

  My silence said enough.

  Centuries ago, before Native Americans inhabited this area, a nation of people warred against their neighbors. They were the most cruel race of all mankind. Crueler even than Akaros’ Spartans.

  I snorted. I highly doubted any race could be more evil than the Spartans.

  Eleon let a vision fill my mind’s eye as we circled the treetops. I saw men raising cudgels with spikes, whips with barbs tied along their lengths, and other deadly weapons, fall first upon men, then women and children down to the smallest of babes. They showed no mercy. They gave no quarter. And when their enemies were dead, they fell on one another until not a single human being remained. As the dust began to cover their bodies, leaves blew upon their still forms and darkness filled the sky as thousands of demons left their bodies, leaving them to rot.

  A chill swept down my spine.

  That hadn’t been men’s evil only, I said.