Dark Star

by Bethany Frenette

  I parked on the street a block or so from Tigue’s home. Around me, the bright glow of streetlamps turned everything yellow. The road was empty, the houses dark and quiet. I hurried down the sidewalk, moving as quickly as I dared across pavement still slick with ice. In the distance, a dog began to bark.

  The neighborhood wasn’t familiar to me, but I was close; I felt it. Awareness rang through my body, up and down my skin. I didn’t feel the cold anymore, though I could see my breath billow in the air. Staring out into the empty street before me, I began to run.

  I knew Tigue’s house immediately. It was like the others: large and imposing, half-hidden by fence and shrubbery. But there was a difference to it, too, as though the Beneath clung to it, swallowing up its shadows. The gate was open. The windows were dark.

  Slipping inside, I drew back against the gate before darting forward. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and I saw nothing but empty spaces and an expanse of snow, but my back tingled. I felt vulnerable, exposed.

  I stepped carefully through the snow. The grounds were silent. At first, I didn’t see anyone. The night appeared still, serene. The wind brushed past, but it was only the wind, and I stood confused, worried. Then something shifted. The light at the edge of my vision blurred. The feel of the air on my face altered, and I recalled that demons clouded the senses—that I could be staring at them and see right through them, that I had to look harder, to see what didn’t want to be seen.

  The night shimmered before me, and then they were there.

  Tigue stood apart, his hands held in front of him, his chilly eyes dark and intent. He still wore his skin. Beside him, two Harrowers bent, no longer human in form, starlight grazing their skin. None of them moved. They were watching, waiting, their expressions secretive and sly. I didn’t see Iris.

  In front of Tigue, some distance away, I saw Leon. A demon crouched low before him. His coat lay discarded in the snow and his white shirt caught the moon, a beacon in the dark. His shirtsleeves had been rolled up, and along his left arm color swirled. I saw the glow of his veins beneath his skin, hues blending and twining at his wrist, radiating out from his fingertips.

  The Harrower he fought lunged for him, and he jumped back, graceful and confident in motion. His arm shot out, parrying. His hair was mussed, his face damp with sweat, and I heard the heaviness of his breath, but the world about him seemed to shine, light clinging to him.

  My gaze slid from him to my mother, fighting nearby. Wisps of hair curled about her face, tugged loose by the wind. Both her arms were lit from within, her pulse flashing out in churning colors as she moved, faster than thought or reason. She bent and lunged, and a demon fell howling beneath her, its neck twisted in her grip. The Harrower fell slack, dissolving into darkness, and she moved again, quick and deadly through the snow.

  “Ready to tell me what you’ve done with her?” she shouted to Tigue. “If this keeps up, you’re going to run out of Harrowers.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll tire long before that.”

  Three Harrowers lurched toward her, and as a cry strangled in my lungs, my mother reacted. She didn’t even look. Her hand flung outward and three sharp objects flew behind her, splitting their throats. The demons gurgled and faltered and fell.

  The glow at her fingers grew, and she sent a burst of light toward Tigue. He dodged, stepping backward.

  A shot rang out through the darkness.

  I flinched, turning toward the sound. I hadn’t seen Mickey at first, but now that I did, fear clawed up my spine. He stood behind my mother and Leon, his body tense and straight, his gun raised. I got that same sense from him I always got, something quiet and sad, nearly drowned out by the adrenaline that radiated from him. I didn’t need a Knowing to know how he must feel. He’d entered a world where demons melted out of shadow, and he had no powers to save himself, just a gun and what I hoped was perfect aim.

  He was quick, at least. As a shape curved out of the darkness toward him, two more gunshots rang out in quick succession and found their mark. The Harrower didn’t stop—but it slowed just long enough for Mom to turn and send a flash of light to finish it off. The Harrower hissed as it crumpled to the ground.

  Mickey reloaded.

  I pressed forward, trying to move soundlessly through the snow, but I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before I froze. Through the long space between us, the motion of bodies and the careening light, Tigue’s eyes caught mine.

  Connection rippled between us, instant and violent. For the briefest of moments, our senses collided. Knowing met Knowing. The barriers were gone; that cool façade he’d kept at the banquet disappeared. I felt the calm, deadly purpose within him. And he was reading me as I read him. He knew why I’d come, the message I carried. Something flickered in his eyes.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said—not aloud but somehow directly to me; not in my ears but in my skin, in my blood. “This isn’t the place for you.”

  Iris wasn’t here, I realized. He’d sent her somewhere else. She was—

  Waiting.

  Somewhere.

  Images flashed into me: Iris turned away, the dark fall of her hair. Snow at her feet. A tall building, empty and silent. City lights.

  I knew the building. Harlow Tower. It stood in downtown Minneapolis, near the IDS Center. I knew its stark shape in the skyline, its huge revolving doors and the thick gold lettering that gleamed down its front. But I knew it for another reason, as well.

  I’d seen it the way my mother had, standing at its edge before toppling over. It was where she’d defeated Verrick.

  And now Iris was there.

  For a moment, I caught the sound of her voice, frantic, frightened.

  Audrey. I need you.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Tigue repeated.

  I shuddered, unable to break the contact. “Mom!” I cried, while I still could. “It’s Iris! She isn’t the Remnant. She’s with him! She’s the one who’s been helping him!”

  Sound exploded all around me.

  Time stopped. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak, or breathe, or even think. My eyes were locked with Tigue’s and I watched in horror as his hands rose into the air. The Harrowers beside him shifted, and something unseen hurtled out of the darkness toward me.

  In the same instant, just out of my vision, I felt Leon turn. I heard the air around us disrupted by his motion.

  And then he was in front of me, his arms circling me, my face pressed to his shoulder. His body took the blast meant for me. I felt it hit him, shaking through both of us; his grip on me tightened and then weakened and he slid from me, collapsing, dragging us down to the snow.

  A scream tore from my throat as I saw red bloom around us.

  “Leon!” I cried, again and again, struggling to make him move. My lungs felt raw and my hands at his back were sticky with blood. The glow at his fingertips faded; the light under his skin died out.

  I looked up. Tigue had moved closer.

  “Audrey, don’t move!”

  I turned toward my mother’s voice. She ran to us, crouching and stretching one hand out before her, the colors at her wrists burning and spinning. There was a sudden sizzle, a sort of hiss, and then a layer of light, thin and clear, formed around us. She was shielding us.

  “Iris is helping him!” I cried. “She’s his accomplice. She can share powers—she can amplify them.”

  Not just Tigue’s powers, I realized. The Remnant’s as well. Once they located the Remnant, Iris would be able to open the way Beneath anywhere, as Elspeth had said.

  Or everywhere.

  Mom’s eyes met mine. My words hung between us, and I saw my own reaction repeated in her: it was unthinkable. Her face was pale, and the color that stirred at her throat made her seem ethereal, more Morning Star than mother. But she nodded, and I felt an understanding grow between us, a thread in the darkness.

  Without turning, her voice clear and resolute, she said, “Detective, I need you to get my daughter out of here.
I’ll cover you.”

  My gaze jerked toward Mickey. His gun was still drawn, and I saw him nod as he crept toward us. “No!” I cried, clutching Leon against me. I couldn’t leave, not when he lay unconscious, bleeding, his breath little gusts against me. His body was warm, and I felt his pulse, but he hadn’t stirred.

  My mother spoke again, her voice cutting through my haze of fear. “Leon’s going to be fine, I promise you. He’s strong. The best thing you can do for him is get yourself to safety. Audrey—look at me. Audrey, I need you to trust me.”

  Lifting my eyes to hers, I felt my panic loosen its grip. I took in a shaky breath and nodded. I moved backward, away from Leon, even as I felt Mickey reach for my hand. His voice was low in my ear.

  “We gotta go.”

  I nodded jerkily, letting him help me to my feet. Without speaking, we turned in the snow and ran.

  ***

  Detective Wyle hadn’t brought his usual car.

  I hadn’t figured him for a pickup truck kind of guy, but something about the vehicle told me it wasn’t his, anyway. The interior smelled like leather and smoke and greasy fast food, and the voice that crackled through the radio was so strained and tinny it sounded like someone dying.

  “No wisecracks, kid. And buckle up.”

  I wasn’t exactly in the mood for wisecracks.

  No demons attacked us as we fled across the snow, but I knew I’d feel safer once we were in motion. All around us, the night seemed to listen. I held my breath as Mickey shifted into gear and flicked on the headlights, twin beams slicing through the darkness. I watched his hands on the steering wheel. There was a slight tremble in his fingers. No matter what he might have guessed about my mother, nothing could have prepared him for what he’d seen tonight.

  “I guess you know, then,” I said. “About my mother.” And demons. And the Kin, probably. Even if he didn’t know everything now, he was smart. He’d eventually piece it together.

  “She’s Morning Star,” he said. His voice was husky.

  “She’s more than that.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I know.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Right now, I’m getting us out of here. We’ll wait at your house.” He pushed down on the gas.

  “No,” I said. I wasn’t going home. I wasn’t sitting still. I couldn’t. Leon’s blood was drying on my hands and clothes. Across the length of the Cities, battles were being fought, Guardians and demons, my mother and Tigue—and somewhere, Iris stood waiting.

  “No?” Mickey echoed. “Wasn’t really expecting an argument, here.”

  “We’re going to Harlow Tower,” I said. “I have to find my cousin.”

  Audrey, I heard Iris say. I need you.

  Elspeth’s plea came back to me: We have to help her. She doesn’t want to be this way.

  And I realized I knew something Iris did not.

  That familiar alarm woke inside me, my frequencies screaming. Memories flashed before me: Rain and tires and the bend of wind around a car, cold eyes watching. Eyes I recognized.

  I turned toward the window, trailing my fingers along the glass. The streets were quiet and still, but my Knowing was loud within me. I saw Iris atop the tower, the metal gleam of the triple knot at her throat. Snow swirled about her, blown up by the wind, melting in her hair, along her skin. Her eyes were closed.

  I could do this, I told myself. Iris would listen to me. We’d stood together in the cold of Beneath and I’d seen into her history, the hidden places where her grief still slept. She could break free of this. She just needed someone to guide her.

  And there was a reason my Knowing had grown so clear and insistent. Out there, in the dark of the Cities, Iris was seeking me. Calling to me.

  She wanted me to find her.

  30

  Harlow Tower was dark when we arrived.

  “I thought they usually left lights on,” I said, as we approached the front of the building. The sidewalks had been swept clean of snow and dusted with sand, but I picked my way carefully across the cement, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  “I still think this is a stupid idea,” Detective Wyle mumbled. “When some nut job summons you to a remote location in the middle of the night, the smart decision is not to go.”

  Stupid wasn’t the first word he’d used. I hadn’t wanted to tell him about Iris, but he wouldn’t agree to drive me without an explanation—and he hadn’t been willing to let me go alone. It was an echo of everything I’d felt from him before: a genuine sort of goodness, a desire to help. But I remembered, also, the shadow I’d seen at his back when I’d given him his reading. That danger felt nearer now, close, creeping upon him. The sense grew stronger with each step we took toward the building. A darkness looming. Before I faced Iris, I was going to have to get rid of him.

  We walked up to the glass. The revolving doors would be locked, I knew, but if Iris was there, one of the doors had to be open. I moved to the side door and reached for the handle. Mickey stopped me.

  “Hold up,” he said, easing the door open. “Let’s leave the breaking and entering to me.”

  He stepped in first, cautiously, and I followed. My eyes went to the staircase that led to the skyway, and then to the elevators. The guard at the front desk lay unconscious in his chair. He didn’t wake when we approached, but his breathing sounded steady.

  Mickey peered over the edge of the desk. “She must’ve disabled the alarms,” he mused.

  “She left the cameras,” I said, shifting uncomfortably as I stared into the round black eye of the surveillance equipment.

  “She didn’t want company, but apparently doesn’t care who sees her. This is your cousin, you said?”

  “Someone will take care of it,” I murmured, certain suddenly that I was correct. The Guardians must be accustomed to taking care of things like this. My mother couldn’t have gone unknown as long as she had without using a few tricks.

  Mickey grunted. “Right. You know where we’re supposed to go next?”

  I hesitated, shoving my hands in my pockets. That we was a problem.

  “The roof,” I said after a moment. “But just me. You need to stay here.”

  “Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”

  I drew in a steadying breath and took a step toward him. “Detective Wyle,” I said, meeting his eyes. He looked older now than when I’d first seen him. Or maybe it was simply that his expression was more severe, and my own abrupt understanding that his rugged-tortured-soul act wasn’t really an act at all. He’d seen his share of darkness, too, even if it hadn’t come in the shape of demons. Maybe it was worse for him, seeing what humans did to humans.

  But I still couldn’t let him come with me. He had to stay behind, for his own safety.

  “My mother sent you away to save your life,” I said. “Not just to protect me. Tigue would never have let you live.”

  He didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak, either, though a muscle in his jaw tensed.

  I didn’t have time to argue with him. I took an unsteady breath, feeling that sharp pang of Knowing, the truth of what I was about to say. “If you go up there with me, you’ll die.”

  My eyes flicked to his. I didn’t force my Knowing toward him—the insistent, undeniable certainty of what I felt. I just waited, and watched his eyes, and hoped that somehow he would understand.

  “And what about you?” he asked.

  “She doesn’t want me dead,” I said. “She wants something else.”

  I didn’t know what it was, but I felt the strength of her seeking. Urgent, desperate, willing me to her.

  He stepped back, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t claim to understand all of this, but I believe you.”

  I didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. Whirling, I ran for the elevators.

  ***

  Iris had left everything unlocked. My way to her was unbarred.

  A strange sort of calm came over me as I slid the door open and stepped out ont
o the roof. The wind was icy and sharp against my face, stinging my eyes. But I wasn’t afraid. Not even when I saw Iris, standing at the far end, in the exact place my mother and Verrick had fallen.

  “You got my message,” she said as I moved forward. “I’m glad you came.”

  “You’ve been calling to me. You weren’t expecting me?”

  “Hoping, let’s say.”

  My shoes were cold and wet, shifting through the snow. I walked slowly, careful not to slip or lose my balance. The wind grew, slicing across my cheeks.

  “I came to talk to you,” I said, peering across the darkness to where she stood. I couldn’t see her clearly. She was half-turned, her body concealing something. “Iris, you should stop this. We should just go home.”

  Then she moved, and my heart fell into my stomach.

  Beside her, at her feet, a body lay crumpled. Even from this distance, I knew who he was. I knew that dark hair, the curve of his shoulder, even the way he kept his arms tightly against him.

  She had Gideon.

  Why did she have Gideon?

  I rushed forward, intent on reaching him. Iris stopped me, thrusting her hand into the darkness between us.

  “Stay where you are, Audrey. He’s my insurance. He’s been very worried about you, you know. He stopped me at school yesterday, asking if I knew what was wrong.”

  “What have you done to him?” I demanded, my eyes on the snow around him, just the barest hint of red in the white.

  “Don’t worry, he’s only sleeping—for now,” Iris said. “We have time to talk.”

  Speech was impossible. I stared. I knew I should tell her something, that I should talk about Tigue, and how his eyes had been the ones watching the night her parents died, and that he was just using her, and that she could come back home and the Kin would forgive her and everything would be all right—but I couldn’t. Images flashed through me: Iris at Gideon’s door. The worried tremble of her smile as she asked for his help. Gideon following her out into the darkness. A blur of silver. Demons in the street.