“She’s dead,” I said bluntly.
The gargoyles went still. I could feel the horror and resignation sweeping over them and settling like a heavy cloud. It filled the small space to suffocating.
“Then we are trapped forever.”
“No. You’re not,” I argued. “If we can’t figure it out, I’m told that the elements will erode the spells. If nothing else, I’ll go drop you in the river, and it will free you.”
“It would take a thousand years. By then, our bodies would be worn away to nothing.”
She was full of all kinds of happy news.
“Then we’ll break the damned spells. I promised your mates I’d find you and bring you back.”
They all jerked closer to me, their eagerness palpable.
“They live? They are free?”
“The Wicked Bitch wasn’t particularly nice to them, but they are alive and mostly free.”
Her lips peeled from her teeth in disgust. “The blood oath.”
“Yep. I’m working on figuring a way around that one too.”
She looked away and, though I got the impression she didn’t like to show emotion, her hatred and loss were too much to hide.
“At least they’re alive.”
The look she turned on me was glacier ice. “But not free. Never to go home; we have no mates.” Her eyes flamed.
“The hell you don’t. All of you will get to go home together no matter what it takes. Now what can you tell me about the spells holding you?”
She hesitated, clearly trying to decide if it was worth it to bother with answering then decided to humor me.
“The spell draws magic to reinforce itself. From us, always, and from any who try to break it. Even now they will find they are caught in the trap and will be emptied of power.”
My breath caught. “They won’t die, will they?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Not reassuring. Suddenly my sense of urgency woke up and hit me with a baseball bat.
“Why are you here?” I looked around at the ghostly gargoyles. “I mean, why are your spirits separated from your bodies?”
“Dividing our flesh from our spirits made it possible for us to be bound so tightly. The enchantress forced us from our bodies and then contained them in shells implanted with magic to keep us from returning. If this magic nexus is destroyed, our spirits will disperse and our bodies will be nothing more than dead stone.”
“So you’re saying that I have to take the resin and spells off your bodies before I try to break the prison spells or your spirits will go flying off into the wild blue yonder?”
“Yes.”
Well, fuck. I’d thought knowing what needed to be done would make it easier. I’d been stupidly hoping that I’d get some instant grand idea of how to save the day. Instead, I felt caught between a rock and a hard place with a clock ticking down to Armageddon.
Still, how hard could it be? Movie action heroes managed to save the day at the last minute all the time.
Clearly I watched too many movies.
“I’d better go see what I can do.” I tried to sound confident and wished to hell I could get some advice from Damon. But all I had was me, myself, and I, and that would have to be enough.
Still in smoke form, I tried to exit the core of the winding magic but I couldn’t. Every time I started to make headway against the incoming flow, I got dragged back. After a few attempts, I gave up. I didn’t have time to fight a battle I couldn’t win.
I examined the weird little space we were crammed into. Opal light formed the walls. Below us, I could just make out the stack of bodies in their resin prisons. I looked up.
The light flared outward from beneath our feet, rising up in a balloon before closing high overhead. In the center of the closure hung a beaten gold disk inset with concentric bands of what looked like lapis lazuli and turquoise. There were six each of those and solid circle in the center. The middle stone was the size of dinner plate and glinted with streaks of gold, red, and tarnished silver, almost black.
The binding spells had to be tied into that. I flowed myself up closer. That’s when I realized the disk wasn’t inside the spell nexus at all. It was above it, hanging like a weird disco light from the indent in the top of the Wall where I used to huddle to hide. Where I’d bled and cried and sweated and apparently fueled Aunty Mommy’s evil. Driving me up the climbing wall had been more than just torture; it had been a means to an end.
God, but that pissed me off.
I floated back down.
“You see?” The speaker for the gargoyle women glared at me. The others remained eerily quiet, watching with hopeless eyes. “You cannot escape the light unless you can break the spells. But the spells are outside where you cannot reach.”
Couldn’t I? Knowing that Aunty Mommy had been using me—using my pain, my blood, my sweat, my tears—all to torture innocent wives and mothers.... It ignited a rage in my belly. The kind that had driven me to climb the Wall no matter how often I fell, no matter how bad I hurt. The kind that drove me to run, to swim, to beat the Wicked Bitch by never surrendering. I’d never done it yet, and I wasn’t starting today.
I asked my body to turn solid. The gargoyle females recoiled as I turned back to flesh.
“What are you?” the lead one asked again.
“If there’s any justice, I’m your ticket out of here,” I said and plunged into the wall of coruscating light.
Something clamped over and lit my body on fire. I stumbled out, falling down on top of the pile of gargoyle females. Blood trickled from hundreds and hundreds of little wounds, no bigger than the tip of a pencil. They covered every inch of me. Blood trickled into my eyes, a film of red coloring my vision. I’d lost the light and called it back. Once again, I became my own glow stick.
The framework of the Wall was steel. An easy enough climb. I scrambled up to the top in less than five minutes. The wounds on my hands and feet turned my grip slippery, but it was nothing compared to the water cannons.
Once I reached the top, I swung my way across the roof to the disk, catching the steel beams and throwing myself forward like a kid on the playground monkey bars. I dropped down on top of the metal plate, expecting it to swing or shake, but it remained solid as rock. Solid, but not indifferent. The moment I touched down and my blood hit it, the gold surface lit orange and heated up. It was like standing on the burner of a stove. If I didn’t do something soon, I’d be French fried.
I didn’t have time to think. I knew what I had to do—well, I knew what the results had to be. So I just did what I always did. Decided what I wanted and made it happen.
I took my magic and slammed it against the disk. My invisible club melted into the flow and turned against me. I hadn’t really thought it would work. Had to try, though.
Now to do it the hard way.
Blood mattered. It held its own magic—of life, of dreams, of passion. It also meant sacrifice and pain—a kind of giving that went far beyond money or canned goods on Thanksgiving. Blood was essential and the more you gave, the greater the sacrifice.
I got on my hands and knees, centering myself over the central stone. Blood dripped onto it like red rain, hissing and spattering. Magic flowed into the stone and radiated downward. I sucked in a breath and held it. Remembering what Ben had told me about focus and intent, I put all my strength of imagination into willing my magic to form a blade in my hand. The flow pulled on me, but I refused to let it win, to let her beat me. I felt my magical blade take shape and harden in my hand. Before it could dissolve, I slashed though the flow.
Strands of magic split and tangled into balls of power that popped and wriggled wildly through the air. I slashed again and then again.
More threads, more tangles.
Now the disk grew white hot, and the stones began to crack and flake loose from the gold. Freed magic turned into flailing whips that cut through my clothing and into my flesh. I didn’t need to have experience to know the spel
l was done for. It was an eighteen-wheeler plunging down a mountain road with no brakes. I had maybe a minute or two before it gave way altogether. Not enough time to climb down and crack open the resin shells on the gargoyle bodies. Not that I could. My hands and lower legs were burned to a crisp.
Might as well make the damage count. If I died, I was going out a winner.
I took my magical blade and sheared through the four chains holding up the disk. It plunged sickeningly, crashing on top of the stack of gargoyle females. The impact sent me flying. I hit the rubber mat on the floor in a twisting belly flop and stuck the landing.
I couldn’t breathe and I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even think. Sheer stubbornness pushed me up to my feet. I staggered to the stacked gargoyles. My magical blade was gone, and I couldn’t seem to call it back. I couldn’t concentrate through the pain. But I didn’t have to destroy the shells. I just had to make a hole. It didn’t even have to be big. A hairline crack would be enough to give the gargoyle spirits access to their bodies. Traveling as smoke had taught me that much.
I put both hands against the clear resin then lost my strength and wilted against it. I pulled up all the magic I had, wishing I could somehow tap in to the storm whirling around me. Maybe I could have, but I wasn’t sure I’d survive long enough to make a hole. I decided to go with better safe than sorry. Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I’d hit sorry a long time ago. Didn’t make me even think about stopping.
I focused all my magic into my hands, ramming it down and through. For a few seconds, nothing happened. I dug deeper and thrust harder. All of a sudden, I felt the resin shell give. Cracks radiated out between my splayed fingers. I laughed.
“Take that, bitch,” I said and thrust again. I imagined Aunty Mommy under my hands and unleashed everything I had. The resin exploded and shards went everywhere, spinning and cutting. At the same time, the rest of the binding spells finished unwinding. Fireworks burst. Sparks sprayed. I flew back and hit the iron framework of the Wall.
I woke on grass. Sunlight bathed me. A warm body snugged up against me, and a weight pressed on my chest. I blinked. My vision was hazy. I didn’t feel any pain. That was unexpected. I thought dying would hurt more.
The weight lifted off my chest.
“Beck? Can you hear me? Talk to me, sweetheart. Please wake up.”
Damon. He sounded terrified, his voice hoarse with desperation and dread.
“Did it work?” I asked. Well, that’s what I meant to ask. Mostly I croaked something that sounded like a sick cat in heat.
“Thank God,” he rasped and his fingers brushed my cheek. “You scared the living shit out of me.”
I licked my lips, though fat lot of good it did me. My tongue was sandpaper. “Did it work?” I asked again and this time he seemed to understand.
“The female gargoyles are free.”
“Good.”
Darkness pulled me back under, and I let it take me.
The next time I woke up, I could hear Jen, Stacey, and Lorraine. They were pissed.
“Haven’t you fucking people hurt her enough? You have to try to kill her harder than her own fucking mother did?” Stacey.
“I don’t give a fuck if that cunt was her aunt.” Lorraine said in response to a rumbled voice. “You people won’t rest until Beck’s dead, will you?”
She used the c-word. Lorraine. She never did that. She had to be in a rage.
“Not on our watch,” Jen declared and of the three, she was the only one who didn’t sound pissed. Which meant she’d gone past rage into the kill zone, and you did not want to be in her crosshairs when she got that way. “You are all cordially invited to leave. If you choose not to, I will personally rip your hearts out and shove them down your throats before dousing you in gasoline and lighting you on fire. You. Are. Not. Welcome.”
I tried to say something. I don’t know if I wanted to explain to the girls this was all my fault or if I wanted to tell them not to kick Damon out. I ended up calling his name.
“Right here.” His breath whispered across my face, and his hand wrapped mine. He didn’t sound any better than before, as if his vocal cords had gone through a cheese grater.
I tilted my head toward his voice. “You okay?”
He made a choking laugh. “Fuck no, but I’m a hell of a lot better than you. The hospital is going to think you need to be locked up for your own safety. I’m pretty sure they’ll be right.”
I didn’t have a good argument for that one.
“It’s over now,” I said, as though that made it all better.
I felt him bend over me, his shadow darkening my hazy vision. He brushed a kiss over my lips. It stung. I didn’t care.
“Please, God, I hope that’s true,” he said in a heartfelt prayer. “I can’t keep almost losing you.”
“Okay.” Though what I was agreeing to, I wasn’t all that sure. I thought a second. “Ajax?”
“Right beside you.”
Ah. The warmth against my side.
“Are you busy right now?” I asked.
Damon snorted. “Hell yes. I’m taking care of you, and don’t get any stupid ideas about telling me to shove off. I’m not going anywhere.”
I smiled. I think. “You should take me to Banana Buddha.”
He didn’t even answer. He just scooped me into his arms and levered up to his feet before marching away.
“How come I don’t hurt?”
“Your mother spelled away the pain.”
“That’s nice.”
He just snarled something extremely rude and kept walking. A chorus of voices shouted out to him. He didn’t stop. He took me through the house and out the front door to his truck.
“Front or back?” he asked.
“Front.”
He opened the door and laid me on the seat, shutting me in. The back door opened, and I heard Ajax leap up. There was a rustling sound and the door closed. Damon came around to the driver’s side and yanked open his door.
“Where are you taking her? To the hospital?” Lorraine asked. “I can call and let them know you’re on the way.”
“She asked to go to the sanctuary,” he said, sliding into his seat.
“Sanctuary?”
“It will help her,” he promised. “I won’t let anything else happen to her.”
“You let this shit storm happen,” she snapped. Then, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. Just help her, okay?”
“I’ll call you after,” he said. “And you were right the first time. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
Oh hell to the no! I managed to lift myself onto my elbow. “Nobody tells me what to do anymore,” I rasped. “Had enough,” I added and then collapsed back onto the seat.
“Like I said,” Lorraine sighed. “Better get going. I’m going to go keep Jen from committing mass murder.”
Who was going to stop Lorraine? I didn’t have the energy to ask.
Damon started the engine and put the truck in gear. I wiggled myself so my head rested on his thigh. He stroked his fingers over my hair.
I didn’t pass out again, though I was too wrung out to talk. Damon drove fast. Really fast, which probably said a lot about how bad I looked. Or maybe it was how bad I actually was. It seemed only a few minutes before we bumped off on the little side road and parked. Damon lifted me out and carried me past the mushroom circle and down to the pool, walking into its chill waters.
I felt the cold only a little bit. Maybe the effect of the anti-pain spell. I lay across Damon’s strong arms, closing my eyes as the clear water washed over me.
“What’s happened?”
I opened my eyes and blinked. I still couldn’t really see. The Banana Buddha was nothing more than a gold blotch hanging above me.
“Hey,” I said. “I hurt myself.”
“So I see.”
I could have sworn he sniffed disapprovingly. I started to laugh, but water filled my nose and mouth, and I sputtered and choked as Damon lifted me u
p into a sitting position.
“Thanks,” I said when I’d gained control.
“Try not to breathe the water anymore,” he said sardonically. “It seems to be bad for your health.”
“Funny.”
“I have missed seeing you,” the buddha said.
“What? No other naked girls have come to hang out here?”
Another sniff. “I have no interest in whether you are naked or not.”
“I do,” Damon said in a growly voice that made my insides go all quivery. “Though I’m not liking the hamburger look. Plus, it’s messy.”
“Hush,” I told him, attempting to look stern, but it was hard to say if I managed. My face was just as numb as the rest of me.
“How long before this starts to work?” I asked.
“Your exterior wounds are not severe,” Banana Buddha said. “They will heal quickly. The carnelian ring I gave you began already. Your internal injuries will take more time.”
Which in no way answered my question. He should have been a lawyer. “Care to give me a ballpark estimate?”
“No.”
I groaned. “You must have been a cat in another life.”
“My people do not believe in resurrection of souls.”
“That’s right. You’re a buddha, not a Buddha.”
“Exactly so.”
“I’m getting a headache.”
“I’m surprised that you didn’t already have one with all your injuries.”
“Damon, make him stop.” I was whining. I hated whining.
“I’m finding this conversation entertaining,” he said. “I see no reason to interfere.”
“Aren’t you freezing?” Maybe I could just get the subject changed.
“I’m keeping myself warm.”
“What happened after I tore down the binding spells and opened up the resin coffins?”
Damon didn’t answer right away. I blinked. He was still a blur. The haziness of my sight wasn’t clearing up all that fast. I contemplated sticking my head under water.
“Earth to Damon, come in, please.”
“The climbing wall cracked, and pieces sloughed off. Then the female gargoyles rammed through, flying to freedom. We found you collapsed against the bottom of what was left of the structure. You were covered in debris. I pulled you to safety.”
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 34
