“So what’s plan ‘B’?” I direct my question at Stephen.
“All the eggs, remember...” Stephen mutters as he slumps back in his chair.
It just seems like such a bad joke, Stephen telling me one minute, ‘this one plan is our only hope’ then the next finding out the plan failed.
I rest my elbows on the table, but pull back when the space lights up. Instead, I rock back into my swivel chair. “So...” I mumble, “We need to get the message to Andras, by the end of tomorrow, that I’m alive. We have boats, planes, helicopters, soldiers; what’s the hold-up? Why don’t we just fly in? We could land on, or next to, City Hall...”
“We can only fly during the day, and in the daylight hours there is a soul-bound on every street corner waiting for a chance to please their demons hoping to win back their soul. They will overwhelm and kill anyone they think opposes the demons, it’s happened many, many times in the past month. ” Albert replies to the table in a monotone.
I ask, “Demons can only come out at night?”
Tobias and Albert make groaning sounds.
Tobias scoffs, “I thought you taught her something.”
Stephen replies, “There’s a great deal to learn.” To me, “Demons only come out after nightfall, unless they puppeteer a body.”
I prompt, “Well, boats then...”
“This is just imbecilic,” Tobias shoots at me, “You want to send more soldiers to their deaths in the Oresund? I just told you that none of the runners made it to land.”
I want to snap at him that: no, he didn’t. He didn’t tell me anything about them being in the water. But, I just lick my lips, they feel sand-paper rough; then say, “Is there anywhere you could land your helicopter on hallowed ground? Maybe in the areas around the church, like...” I lean over to Stephen’s screen and scan it, “At that church,” I press on the green dot of ‘St. Alban’s Anglican church’.
As the map readjusts its focus, Nicholas speaks up, “No.”
My chest feels a sort-of zingy sensation as I stare over at him.
Is he actually, finally, talking to me? He lifts his gaze, but not to me, he glares at Stephen. “If we land a plane or helicopter at St. Alban’s we’re only going to be drawing a target on it. If St. Alban’s falls, the entrance to Kastellet will be open and the thousands of survivors vulnerable. We need to preserve the only safe place for people in Copenhagen to run.”
Stephen shifts forward, the exasperated look on his face makes me think this is not the first time they’ve had this argument. “Will it really matter when Andras opens the gates of Hell in the City Center?”
Nicholas slams down his palm, lighting the table in front of him, and leans toward Stephen. “Not only would we have to navigate three kilometers of demon and soul-bound infested streets, we still would have to infiltrate the nest and find the Marquis somewhere within. Are you willing to risk thousands of lives on the extremely-slight chance that we could even get within a kilometer of the nest?”
“Are you willing not to?” Stephen touches his scar, “Getting to Andras is the only way to save those people’s lives. If we give up now, let all of the seals be broken, how many survivors do you think there will be?”
“Human casualties...”
“...will happen either way. If we don’t use the church, if we don’t try to get the message to Andras, we’ll be buying a thousand people a day or two and condemning the entire world to Hell.” Stephen’s almost standing as he finishes this, but as the words leave his mouth he seems to deflate and settle back into his chair. He sighs, “We could go in with troops...”
“After our losses, we barely have the man-power to protect the base and Kastellet,” Albert states unenthusiastically, glowering into his lap.
“I’m going,” I say as clearly as I can, to keep my voice steady.
Albert peers up, for the first time meeting my gaze. He looks as if he’s going to say something.
“Not a chance!” Nicholas shouts while standing up, his swivel chair falls back.
“Out of the question!” Tobias backs him up in a high tone. “The suggestion is ludicrous. Don’t you understand what will happen if you die?”
I raise my hands and lean forward. Isn’t it obvious? I’m their only chance. “Demons can’t...”
“Stephen!” Nicholas shouts jabbing a finger toward Stephen. “I will not allow you to risk her life in this!”
“No,” Stephen’s voice is soft, “No, I was not...” He turns to me, “Raven, I have to agree with my brothers on this. You’re our only hope; if you die, that’s the end. You need to be protected and safe, here.”
Acidic words burn my lips and linger on my tongue but I swallow them down. I peer into my lap, the lap of the blue girlie dress I’m still wearing. No wonder they won’t take me seriously, I look as if I’m about to receive guests for tea and crumpets. “Don’t you see?” I say quietly, “Demons can’t hurt me. I’m your best chance of getting through the demon nest. I’m the only irrefutable proof that I’m alive.”
“If we’re going to do this,” Nicholas presses his knuckles into the table, “It’s going to be you and me, Stephen, that’s it. She...” he points to me, “...stays here, guarded. The only way I’ll agree is: if we take a small helicopter and fly low, lights off, at twilight. We can spend the night in the camp. At first light, we will take one of our vans.”
“And me,” Albert growls only turning his head slightly to look at Nicholas from a sideward angle.
“Albert,” Nicholas says, grasping Albert’s shoulder, “You’re too emotionally-involved. Your presence would jeopardize the mission.”
“I’m not giving you a choice. I’m older, higher rank, and I’m going!”
“Actually, no, you’re not going.” Stephen counters, “Nicholas is right, your actions lately have not been rational. The mission is too important for personal...”
“Personal what?” Albert looks positively fearsome; he’s out of his chair looming over Stephen like Thor about to swing his deathblow.
No part of Stephen’s face even twitches, “Personal anything, Albert.” He takes his time standing and to my surprise Albert moves out of his way. “I’m second to Tobias, and you can’t come.”
Albert glares at his brothers one at a time, completely ignoring me, and then marches out of the room.
Nicholas calls after, “I will do everything I can for...”
Albert is gone. The doors slide shut.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Day Fifty-Six (continued)
As the sun sets it casts long lines of shadow on the ceiling; they shift as I move my head back-and forth, back-and forth. It’s funny, lying here in my room is the first chance I’ve had to be by myself since I was...reanimated. I guess I feel, oddly, peaceful.
I can hear Albert pacing outside my open window, and I know Tobias is sitting just on the other side of my door with several soldiers, more like prison guards than protectors, but I feel utterly alone.
Stephen and Nicholas must have left already, flying low over a treacherous strait to a more-than-likely disastrous end. Nicholas didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t even meet my gaze. I’ll probably never see him again.
After dying and being brought back to life, one would think I would have something essentially different about me. I haven’t really had a chance to evaluate myself for change. It didn’t feel like death, more like that one time I nodded off in class and when I opened my eyes, the classroom was empty. But death must have transformed me in some... deep, spiritual way. I close my eyes and concentrate on my internal self, delve into my person. I have to stop myself humming an ‘ohmm’ sound and making myself laugh. I gather my internal focus on a spot in the middle of my chest and listen for anything... any new insight...
Nothing speaks up. No new wisdom or miraculous power jumps out at me. I can’t read minds or even guess what time it is. I could just check my watch, but I’m not going to bother.
You’d think being dead for a month
would’ve given me all the sleep I needed, but I’m exhausted. I drift; telling myself that I’m safe here. I’m under lock and key, waiting for others to save the world.
My eyes snap open as something is stuffed into my mouth, some material. I flail, and try to spit it out but tape stretches over my mouth painfully. I kick, wildly, knowing this might be my only and best chance to fight.
Whoever has me is strong; they barely notice my struggle as they flip me over, tie up my hands, then my feet. An arm wraps under my torso and I’m lifted up.
I head butt the person right as they raise me, but he or she doesn’t even pause. The kidnapper throws me over his shoulder (I’m assuming male because of its girth) and moves toward the open window.
Where is Albert? Where are his men? A van is parked outside my window, back door open, and no one is in sight. I don’t know much about these types of situations, but I can recognize that this is my last chance; if I get into that van hog-tied, I’m not getting out. I thrash and kick, managing to elbow the man in the ear.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t readjust his hold as I rock forward. He hefts me off his shoulder and slides me into a cleared space in the back of the van. But I stop fighting because I see his face; and when he shuts the door I just stare at the spot where Albert’s face had been a moment earlier until I feel the van move.
What is Albert doing? Why would he do this? That traitor!
The van continues to bump slowly along until it stops completely.
“Hello, Albert,” another man’s voice says so clearly he must be standing at the open window, “Leaving tonight?”
“As soon as you get out of my way,” Albert growls.
I scream but the sound gets tangled in the material stuffed in my mouth.
“Right away, sir.”
A second later we’re moving, fast. My head vibrates against the floor until I strain to maneuver myself into a sitting position.
Since I changed into my sleep clothes (track-shorts and a tank-top) earlier, I no longer have sleeves, and even though my bare shoulder is not abrasive I rub it against the corner of the tape covering my mouth.
I barely separate the corner of the tape from my mouth when the van screeches to a halt, skidding and spinning its rear. I flop over, banging my head on something metal. I see white for a blink, then feel the sharp pain.
Albert throws open the back door. I glare at him (for lack of anything more menacing that I can do) and kick as he reaches for me. I land a two-footed kick on his wrist and he pulls back.
He whispers, “Stop, Raven. We linger here, we’re dead.”
Confused, I don’t fight when he grabs and hefts me over his shoulder, carrying me only to chuck me into the back of some kind of speed boat. I don’t get much of a view but I can tell this is the first boat parked among many, on a long dock.
I raise my head to see Albert run back toward the van but he spins when someone yells from the dock. With one foot on the boat, Albert unties ropes from around three dock posts, throws the ropes on the boat, and steps over me. I keep my gaze glued to the large dock-houses whose angular white roofs reflect the dim-moonlight as several figures emerge from behind them.
One of the figures spots us, cries out, and starts sprinting.
The engine purrs. Albert hops over me again but I can’t see what he’s doing because his feet are in the way. I rock myself into a sitting position.
In the few seconds that my view was obstructed, the sprinting person, a middle-aged man, closes the distance. He has a blue, metal gnome statue in his hands; he’s grasping the gnome by its blue hat and swinging it up like a bat.
I’m tied up, gagged and about to be bludgeoned to death by a lawn ornament. Jeez, that’s depressing.
The man is breathing hard, he scrunches up his normal-fatherly-looking face. “I don’t have a choice. I am so sorry...”
Albert kicks the man in the chest.
The man and his gnome are actually airborne for an instant before they each smack the boat across from us and slide into the water.
Albert does not hesitate; he ignores the four people who are closing in and hops over me to the steering wheel. We move slowly for a second, perhaps a second too long, a young woman runs on the walkway alongside the boat. She jumps, arms outstretched like a flying squirrel... and she smacks into the side of the boat.
Three other people jump into the water to join the squirrel-woman floundering in our wake as we race away.
Albert is definitely not following the ten kilometer-per-hour sign we zoom past. He weaves between parked boats and out of the harbor into the Oresund strait.
We drive for ten minutes before Albert stoops to rip the tape from my face. I spit out the wad of material but it takes me a minute to remoisten my mouth.
When I can speak again, I shout, “Albert, what the hell are you doing? You’re betraying everyone you love. And for what? A world destroyed.” Okay, so I guess I’d been meditating on that statement since Albert shoved me into the van, and it came out a little rehearsed. But, screw it. Albert deserves a world of pain; he’s double-crossing his whole family and going to do who knows what with me. If he gets close enough, I’m going to bite him.
He’s a few paces away, in a half crouch, seemingly unsure if he wants to stand or what; he should probably be steering the boat. He’s wearing an outfit I’ve never seen the like of before, outside of the movies, black sleek full body armor. He’s also wearing what can only be called an arsenal of guns, a few visible daggers and, not surprisingly, a big hammer hanging from his belt. “I’m not betraying anyone...”
“Oh, because kidnapping in the dead of night is oh, so honorable. Why don’t you just throw me overboard or let the soul-bound kill me? Or, do you have to deliver me yourself?”
“Deliver you?” His voice turns gruff. He stands fully and takes his spot to steer. I have to roll over to see him when he says, “What do you take me for?”
I dump a bucket-load of contempt into my words, “What do you think? You tied-up, gagged and abducted me...”
“I thought this is what you wanted. I’m doing you a favor; I’m bringing you back to your boyfriend.”
“Some favor,” I mutter. Louder, I say, “What are you trading me for, huh? What do they have that you could possibly want that much?”
“I’m not trading you!” He roars, spinning to face me. “I just could not sit around, waiting, in suspense...” his voice loses its ferocity. “And, yes, those demons do have something on me...someone.”
From his tone it definitely sounds as if this someone is female. “And you’ll exchange my life for hers?”
He hits the dashboard, “I already told you...” he makes a frustrated ‘urgh’ sound, then just stares forward. He exhales, “I’d die for her... for them. But I’m not going to let you die; everything centers on you. I need to bring you to Andras before the demons decide she’s of no further use as leverage.” He exhales, “All I need is for you to get me inside... if you get me into City Hall, I can save my wife... my pregnant wife.”
Wait? Wife? What?
Will the surprises of this day never end? I say, “You’re...married?”
“Yes.”
“What, is it some big secret? Does anyone know?”
“Only Nicholas.”
“Um...why?”
“She’s...” he is silent for a long moment, “She’s Muslim.”
“And?”
“And, Tobias Leijonskjöld, my ancestor, has been a devout Christian since the sixteenth century.”
Ah. I see. That would be a bit tricky. But seriously, Albert needs to man-up. I roll my eyes and shake my head, “I can see why Stephen called you a hypocrite. I mean...are you serious? After harping on me all day for sacrificing myself for my family, you’re doing the exact same thing!”
“Not...”
“What did Madeline stop you from doing?” I say before he can defend himself.
He’s unresponsive so I press the issue. “Stephen said, ‘Madel
ine told me what you tried to do.’” He still doesn’t respond, but I’ve already figured it out. “You tried to trade my body for your wife, didn’t you?”
He yells, “You were not using it!” right as something collides into the boat.
I’m thrown in the air and smack the back of my head on the wood planks. That makes two. I force my eyes open and ignore the throbbing ache. “Untie me!”
I don’t have to scream twice, as the boat rocks furiously beneath us, Albert deftly cuts me from my bindings. My sleeping feet don't want to stand up on the rocking floor of the boat; I end up (not happily) clutching onto Albert and a white railing. “What is it?” my voice reflects the instability of my body.
Albert doesn’t respond; he’s staring at the massive bubbles breaking the surface of the channel. Faster than a jack-in-the-box, a figure’s upper body springs from the water and blocks out the night sky. Her shadow casts over the entire white speed boat; she must be fifty feet tall.
The sound of her low raspy feminine chuckle seems to come from all directions. If the little mermaid and Godzilla fell in love, this thing would be their offspring. She is a mesh of human, reptile and fish. Her hair, a tangle of wriggling florescent green eels, hangs down to the beginning of her humpback-whale thick fish tail. And, even though her face and torso have the basic features of a human, different parts of her sallow yet almost translucent skin look slimy, sharp or scaly.
The creature grabs the front of the boat with one of her sleek yellowish claws and drags us to her. The air still vibrates with her chuckling. She has more rows of sharp teeth than a shark and a too-wide mouth. She hisses so loud that Albert and I cover our ears, but I hear her words through my fingers, “Oh my joy, sweethearts out for a moonlit boating,” She looms so far over us I can feel and smell her blood and rotten-fish breath. “What delicious flesh. Eating you will be a pleasure.”
The Deception Dance Page 25
