Mrs. Black laughed, an ugly, sharp laugh that reminded Billy of the sound of a dentist’s drill going after a cavity. “I doubt that, boy,” she said. “Even if they were inclined to come after you – and I can’t see why they would – there is no way they’ll ever find you here.”
Cameron giggled again, and moved his hand like he was throwing a softball at Billy. Billy flinched as much as he could, but the chains that held him captive also prevented him from dodging whatever it was that Cameron had thrown.
He felt something cool wash over him, and was suddenly struck by a memory of watching his first horror movie. His father had rented it for them to watch together on one of Mr. Jones’ rare days at home. Billy remembered at the time he had been utterly terrified. But he still treasured the memory. He had been so scared of the movie, and his father had finally gathered Billy up in his big, thick hands, and let Billy sit on his lap like a little kid. Billy couldn’t remember that ever happening, before or since. He had felt so happy, so protected.
He felt his smile return, even as Cameron waved his hand mystically and intoned, “Feel my Dread.”
Billy felt like laughing. Apparently the spell that had stolen Cameron’s mind had also destroyed his ability to effectively bend Death.
Mrs. Black sighed sadly, and Billy thought he saw Mordrecai roll his eyes in the same moment.
“See what you’ve done to my boy?” she asked Billy. “To my beautiful, wonderful boy.”
Billy thought it was pretty clear that he had actually improved Cameron, if anything. But he suspected this would not be the most diplomatic thing to say, so he kept his mouth tightly shut.
Cameron frowned and looked at his fingers. He shook them like he had expected something else to have happened to Billy. There was a bright flash, and then Cameron clapped his hands over his eyes. “Not the clowns,” he moaned. He must have shot himself with his own spell.
This time, even Mrs. Black rolled her eyes. She turned back to Billy. “Well,” she said brightly. “What should you and I chat about?”
Billy said nothing. He was at their mercy. But he was also more than a little relieved at the news that no one could take the weapons from him without his permission. And he figured he was more likely to eat a month-old Salisbury steak covered in ostrich poop than he was to let Eva Black – or any other Darksider – handle the weapons of the prophecy.
“I know,” said Mrs. Black. “Why don’t we talk about you giving me the weapons?”
Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh. Again, his intention to sound cool and tough was defeated by the fact that his voice spiked upward about seven octaves in the middle of the laugh.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Black with a winning smile. “You are much too brave and powerful to ever relinquish the weapons to me. After all, you’re an immensely strong Power. I mean, you’ve….” Her voice trailed off as though she was thinking about where to start listing Billy’s talents. Then her gaze snapped back to Billy. “Oh, wait,” she said. “I guess you’re not a strong Power. In fact, you’ve never cast a spell at all, have you?”
Billy had to admit that she had him there. He may be the prophesied Messenger and Seeker, but the only spells he had ever participated in were when he was holding the sword, shield, or dagger, so that didn’t count. He was, in fact, completely Powerless.
Mrs. Black tsk-tsked in mock sadness. “Such a tragedy,” she said. “Just a no-Power nothing, caught up in big things that his little mind can’t understand.”
“Sure,” Billy managed. “Just a no-Power nothing who managed to get the sword, dagger, and shield from the prophecy; who spoke the White King’s Message; and who helped defeat your attack on Powers Island.”
“Yes, you’ve been quite lucky,” Mrs. Black agreed amiably. Then all pretense of pleasantry faded. “And now it’s time to give me the weapons,” she snarled.
“I don’t think so,” Billy said.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Black, “I thought you might feel that way. But I suspect we’ll change your mind soon.”
“Get off me!” shouted a voice at almost the same time. Billy looked past the bars of his cell and saw Nehara and the strangely familiar Darksider woman pushing Vester into view.
“Vester!” shouted Billy. His friend was still noosed with the ropelike substance that Mrs. Black had cast around his neck. He was also bruised and bloody, his hair a mess and his clothes torn. He looked like he had been beaten, and severely.
“Hey, kid,” said Vester. He sounded mirthful and upbeat, as though he was meeting Billy at a movie theater instead of being imprisoned who-knew-where with a Death Power’s rope around his neck. He looked at Mrs. Black with unveiled contempt. “Gotta be careful about the company you keep there, Billy. Wouldn’t want people to think less of you.”
Billy tried to play along, to force jollity into his demeanor. But the sight of Vester so badly hurt made him feel as though his spirit had just been forced into a wood chipper.
“What can I say?” asked Billy. “I got caught in a bad part of town.”
Vester started to laugh, but his chuckle was cut off when Nehara the Blue yanked the Death rope. Vester’s laugh died, and a fresh trickle of blood oozed out of his neck.
“Vester!” shouted Billy. He wanted to reach out for his friend, but his chains bound him too tightly to the wall of the dungeon.
Mordrecai laughed. “Not so brave now, little boy,” said Mrs. Black. She nodded to Nehara and the woman, and they kicked Vester, knocking him to his knees. Nehara held one end of the Death rope like a lash, and whipped Vester’s back, arms, and even face with it. Wherever the cruel rope fell, bright red blood welled up.
In only a moment, Vester had fallen to the stone floor.
“Stop it!” shouted Billy.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Black, though Nehara and his female companion continued to beat Vester. “All you have to do to make it stop is give me the weapons.”
“Don’t… don’t do it,” coughed Vester.
“Shut up, Dawnwalker,” spat Nehara, making the last word sound like a curse.
Billy’s mind was reeling. He had to stop this. Had to keep his best friend from being hurt. He felt paralyzed.
The beating continued as Billy tried to think of what to do. He had to stop Vester’s pain, but he couldn’t give up the weapons. He didn’t even know what they did, but he knew that they were critically important in the struggle between Dawnwalkers and Darksiders, and couldn’t even think of what would happen if Mrs. Black got her hands on them.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. The whole world was ending, and all he could do was stand there like a statue.
“Stop!” said Mrs. Black.
Nehara and the other Darksider immediately ceased their attack. Billy heard a noise that he couldn’t figure out at first, but then realized: Vester was crying. Probably the bravest person he knew was crying.
But he was also saying something. “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t give them anything,” he was saying over and over, his voice low and bubbling. “Don’t. Don’t.”
Billy’s entire frame grew chilled, and he would have shivered had the chains that bound him allowed even that much movement. This was the worst thing he had ever seen. Not even the Battle for Powers Island, not even seeing the Greens all withering, not even the death of Veric had shown him the evil reality of the battle he was fighting.
“Bring him in here,” said Mrs. Black. She waved a hand, and the cell’s dark bars widened even further. Nehara took Vester’s hands, and the woman took his feet, and together they dragged Vester – carefully – through the bars into the cell. They dropped him at Mrs. Black’s feet.
Mrs. Black’s lip curled, and she looked at Billy. “You won’t give me what I want?” she asked.
Billy still couldn’t speak. Fear had utterly paralyzed him.
Mrs. Black took the Death rope from Nehara, and looped one end of it through a metal ring embedded in the wall of the dungeon. She took the end and tied it to Vester�
�s arm. Then pushed the trailing end back through the ring, then brought it back to Vester’s other arm. Another tie. She worked rapidly, tying and lashing. The Death rope seemed to lengthen in her hands, so that she always had more.
Soon, Vester was tied in a complex arrangement of loops and knots that confined him to the wall by his hands and feet. Unlike Billy, he had enough rope that he could remain laying on the ground.
But then Mrs. Black pulled on one part of the Death rope, twanging it between her thumb and forefinger like a guitar string.
Something about the rope changed. Billy didn’t know what it was, but he could sense that it was… moving somehow.
“So you won’t give me the items?” purred Mrs. Black.
“He’ll… never give anything to you,” whispered Vester.
“Perhaps not now, but in a few moments, when he watches you slowly pulled apart?”
Billy looked at Mrs. Black sharply. She smiled widely, and gestured at the dark rope that bound Vester. “It’s going to shorten, bit by bit. It will pull him upright, then pull him against the wall. Then it will keep shortening, drawing his arms and legs apart, until….” She shrugged. “Actually, I don’t know what will happen. Either his arms and legs will be pulled off, or just his hands and feet.” She smiled, and licked her lips. “It will be fun to see what happens.”
Billy gaped at her in horror. He didn’t want to believe her, but knew she was telling the truth. Indeed, even as he watched, he could see Vester’s arms lifting off the floor, drawn toward the wall by the slowly shortening rope.
“You can stop it, Billy,” whispered Mordrecai. Billy started. The man was standing right next to him. Billy hadn’t even noticed him draw close, so focused was he on Vester. “You can end it with a word.” The man’s voice was smooth, enticing. He sounded like his vocal cords were wrapped in silk. “Just give up the weapons. Give them up, and you and your friend can go free.”
Billy was tempted. More so when he saw Vester’s arms rising ever higher in the air. Vester caught Billy’s eyes, and the Fire Power tried to smile. The smile turned into a grimace of pain, though.
Almost, Billy willed the weapons away, willed them to fall away from him and into the hands of Eva and Mordrecai. Almost. But he knew that it was unlikely that the Darksiders would let either him or Vester leave this place. And even if they did, what kind of world would they be leaving to? A world where the Greens – and all green things – were dying? A world where Billy’s own hours were numbered by the DeathBlade? A world where the Darksiders would rule all humanity, enslaving those with no powers, and killing everyone who stood in their way?
“Still need time to think?” asked Mrs. Black. She tousled Billy’s hair. “That’s fine, my boy. I have nothing if not time.”
“Though others may not be so lucky,” added Mordrecai.
“True,” sniffed Mrs. Black. She looked at Vester. His hands were almost a foot off the floor, slowly drawing behind him. Billy could tell that soon the Red Power would have to pull his body up away from the ground, or risk his shoulders dislocating.
Mrs. Black walked out of the cell. A moment later, Mordrecai followed her, as did Nehara and the familiar-seeming Darksider with him.
Cameron didn’t go immediately. He was picking his nose, giggling quietly as he did it.
“Cameron!” barked Mrs. Black. The once-bully crabwalked hurriedly out of the cell. Mrs. Black waved her hands, and the bars bent back to their original shapes, closing the area of egress.
“We’ll let you think,” she said, glancing meaningfully at Vester. “As soon as you’ve decided to do the right thing, just call.”
She looked at Nehara and at the Blue Power’s companion, and both of them nodded. They took up stations at either side of the cell as Mrs. Black turned on her heel and left, followed closely by Mordrecai and Cameron.
Vester grunted, and Billy turned his head to see his friend being pulled closer to the wall. He tried to look away from what was happening, but simply hearing the low sounds of his friend’s struggle was somehow worse than watching, so he looked back.
“Heckuva day,” said Vester between clenched teeth. He tried to laugh again, but the rope shortened several inches, as though responding to his attempt at bravery, and the laugh died on his lips.
“Vester,” said Billy. “What do I do?”
“Nothing,” answered the Fire Power.
“But, you’ll die.”
Vester looked at Billy, and Billy thought he could see his friend searching for some words of encouragement, for some answer to the situation. Instead he just grunted again, and hoisted himself up a bit so that the ropes weren’t pulling him in such an awkward direction. “Yup,” he said a moment later.
“Vester, you can’t die,” said Billy.
“Everyone dies, Billy. Only truly misguided people try to cheat that fact.”
Billy yanked at his chains. They were fast. Solid. No way for a smaller than average teenage boy to get free. He looked down at the sword and dagger at his waist. He willed them to fly up to his hands, to come to him. And they did! But his elation over that fact lasted only long enough to realize that he still couldn’t do anything with them. His wrists and arms were chained so tightly to the wall that he couldn’t get any swing with either weapon. They just hung limply in his hands, useless, until he willed them back to his waist.
He looked at Vester again, and wondered if he could actually stand here and watch his best friend die. He didn’t think so. He thought he would probably give up the weapons first, no matter what.
“Don’t you dare,” said Vester, his breath lurching out of him in pained gasps. “Don’t you give in, Billy.”
Billy wasn’t surprised that Vester seemed to hear his thoughts. He felt certain they must be painted in neon lights across his face. “I can’t just watch you die,” said Billy. He felt tears of terror and frustration welling up within him.
“Yes, you can. And you will,” said Vester. “This is more important than any of us, Billy. More important than me. More important than you.”
“How can it be more important than you?” asked Billy. “You’re my friend.”
“And that’s why you’ll let me die,” said Vester. “Because if you don’t, if you do what they want you to, you’ll be denying everything that makes me me, and our friendship will be over anyway.”
Billy shook his head. He struggled to think of something. There must be some way out of here. Some way to free himself. He remembered being in a different hopeless situation, remembered being saved by the flying unicorn, the amazing beast that had come out of nowhere to snatch him from the jaws of death. He looked up, as though hoping to see the unicorn fly through the stone ceiling. But the stone remained stone, and no wings could be heard in the deathly stillness of the dungeon.
There was a noise, however. Not wings, but the soft rustle of cloth. Billy looked ahead of him, and saw that Nehara the Blue and the woman who was watching the cell with him had turned. They had had their backs to him and Vester before, but now they were facing directly at them.
Great, thought Billy. I’m not just going to watch Vester pulled apart, I’m going to have to deal with the Darksiders laughing about it.
However, neither Nehara nor the woman were laughing. Indeed, they weren’t even looking at him or at Vester, Billy realized a moment later.
They were staring at the bars.
“Do you think you’re strong enough, Adin?” said Nehara.
The woman, that strangely familiar woman, shook her head. “No,” she said. “But we have no choice.”
The woman, Adin, raised her hands. She held them in front of the dark bars to the cell. She closed her eyes, and was silent.
Billy looked at Vester. His friend was looking at Nehara and Adin, clearly wondering what was going on as well.
Billy looked at the Darksiders. Adin was still motionless, but he thought he could see trickles of sweat beading her face.
“I can’t,” she murmured.
>
“Try,” said Nehara. “Try harder.”
“Don’t tell me what I have to do,” snapped Adin without opening her eyes. Nehara fell silent, and Billy thought he detected a bit of fear in the man’s eyes. That worried him. Nehara, like Mrs. Black, Fulgora, and Mrs. Russet, had been a member of the Council, and was one of the strongest Powers in the world. So who was Adin, that he would fear her? Billy didn’t know how things could get any worse, but he had no doubt that they were about to do so.
Adin gasped, and the dark bars of the cell began to bend. Slowly they moved, shrieking with every inch.
“You’re doing it!” said Nehara.
“Shut up!” said Adin. She kept concentrating, and the bars kept bending.
Billy heard Vester grunt again, and looked at his friend. He was now fully upright, though it was clear that he didn’t have the strength to stand: the Death rope was holding him up, pulling him inexorably back toward the wall.
“Done,” said Adin, and Billy looked back at her. The bars had pulled apart enough to allow someone to come into the cell.
“Can you remove the chains?” asked Nehara.
Adin didn’t answer for a moment. She rocked back and forth unsteadily, as though standing on a ship tossed by a storm. Nehara stepped to her, steadying her in his arms.
“I’ll… I’ll try,” Adin said a moment later. She seemed to steel herself, then stepped carefully between the bars.
Billy watched her as she came toward him. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
Adin ignored him. She took hold of the chains that bound his right arm. She gasped in the same instant, withdrawing her hand as though it had been bitten. Billy caught a glimpse of her palm. It was burnt and blistered, as though she had held it over an open flame.
“Are you all right?” said Nehara. He looked around as though worried that someone might come upon them.
“It’s cursed,” said Adin.
“What do we do?” asked Nehara.
“What we have to,” answered Adin. She grabbed the chains again, this time pulling with both hands. Billy smelled something horrible, the odor of burning flesh wafting up to his nostrils. Adin was clearly in intense pain, but she didn’t let go. And worse than the pain in her eyes, Billy saw her face grow lined and weathered as she grasped the chains. It looked as though she was growing older right in front of him. She pulled harder. Then, with a grunt, the chains holding Billy’s arm to the wall disappeared. But his partial freedom had come at a price. Adin appeared to have aged a good ten years in the few seconds it had taken to overcome the power of Eva Black’s chains.
Billy: Seeker of Powers (The Billy Saga) Page 16
