Solomon's Ring

by Mary Jennifer Payne

  The demon leaps, fangs bared. I’m knocked off ­balance as I scuttle out of the way but manage to hang on to my pole. My right hand slams onto the ­c­obblestones, ­sending bolts of pain up my wrist and into my arm.

  From somewhere to the right and just behind me I hear Cassandra shout, followed by the all-too-familiar wet tearing sound of a pole travelling through flesh.

  I leap back to my feet just as the head of a demon rolls past. The acrid smell of copper fills my nostrils.

  How many of them are there?

  I’ve got no time to even look around to attempt a guess because the demon lunges at me again. This time it manages to grab my left arm, twisting it behind my back in one fluid motion. An audible snap, like a tree branch breaking in a strong wind, reaches my ears just seconds after the blinding pain shoots through my wrist. I yelp like a wounded puppy, tears flooding my eyes.

  It’s my left arm. But I still have my pole firmly in my right hand, which means I can fight.… I take a deep breath, wincing against the pain.

  But it’s so strong. Stronger than any demon I’ve ever ­fought.

  I push down the internal voice that’s encouraging my fear and swing at the demon with my pole. But with my left arm hanging like a limp balloon at my side, the ­result is beyond pathetic. My aim is completely off, and the pole collides somewhere around the demon’s ­collarbone. It’s enough to cause the demon to roar, but not enough to cause any damage.

  Cassandra’s suddenly beside me, her dress ­covered with bits of jelly-like demon flesh and deep red ­bloodstains. Beads of sweat glisten on her face, and her skin is red from exertion, despite the damp night air. She glances at my broken arm, her eyes widening with concern, just before she rushes forward to take a swing at the demon.

  Her pole connects perfectly but sinks only a few centimetres into its neck.

  With an audible grunt, Cassandra frees her pole. She turns her head toward me. “Stand behind me,” she says, her words as rapid as gunshots. “You’re too hurt.”

  The demon takes advantage of the moment and grabs at Cassandra’s pole. She lets out a surprised cry before managing to close her hands around the end of it.

  “We’ve got to get to Christ Church,” Uriel yells from somewhere behind us.

  No kidding, I think. But how are we supposed to go anywhere with Vivienne so injured, and when we’re about to be the main course in a demonic feast?

  I move in front of Cassandra and clasp her pole with my good hand just above where she’s holding it. We’re in a tug-of-war with a demon that clearly has the upper hand. Its pull is much stronger than our combined force.

  Just as my fingers are loosening and about to give up their hold, there’s a wet, squelching sound, and the demon’s head topples over onto its right shoulder. Its grip slackens and Cassandra and I stumble backward before losing our balance completely and falling on top of each other on the cobblestones. The demon collapses on top of our legs a moment later, its head hanging like a yo-yo by one stringy bit of ligament.

  With a disgusted grunt, Cassandra flips the corpse off us.

  Wincing, I look up. Lily’s standing above us, her pole slick with blood, one hand extended toward me.

  “That’s the last one, as far as I can tell … for now,” she says with a grimace as she helps me to my feet. The slightest movement makes my broken arm feel like it’s on fire. “Uriel said we don’t have much time to get to the church.”

  “Where’s Jade?” I ask. In all the confusion, I’ve lost track of her. I try to push down my growing panic. The last thing I want is to strengthen any demons that might be lurking in the fog, waiting to pounce on us like a cat on a mouse.

  “Right here. I’m okay,” Jade says, emerging to the left of us from the fog. She spots my arm and rushes to my side. “What happened?”

  I notice that her pole is clean, and she’s remarkably calm, considering what just occurred here.

  “The demon that attacked Vivienne managed to grab me…. Where is she?”

  “With Amara,” Lily says, her voice quiet. We walk together to where we left Vivienne after the attack.

  Amara’s cradling her sister in her arms as though she were a newborn. Tears stream down her face. The front of her dress is smeared red. Vivienne’s eyes are closed, and her skin is as grey as the moon. Uriel stands beside them, her face a mask of concern.

  “We need to go,” she says. “NOW.”

  “I heard,” I say. I crouch down beside Amara, taking my time. My balance is completely off because of my arm.

  I touch Amara on the shoulder. “How is she?” I ask. I don’t want to ask if she’s still alive, but that’s exactly what I’m wondering, and then I realize Amara’s able to read my thoughts anyway.

  “She’s still got a heartbeat. It’s really faint, but it’s there,” Amara replies, her voice barely a whisper. “I can feel that she’s still here with us, but …” her voice cracks with emotion. “She’s lost a lot of blood … I feel that she’s going to let go soon.”

  “She’s not,” I say. “She’s going to be fine. We’ll get her back through, get her to the hospital….”

  “No, we need to leave her and go,” Uriel says, breaking into the conversation.

  “We’re not leaving her,” I snap. “Where’s your brother?” I raise my head up to meet her gaze. Never before in my life have I wanted to slap someone like I want to slap this pathetic excuse of an angel.

  She stares back at me, unflinching and silent. Her blue eyes are like emotionless chips of ice.

  Anger surges through me. “Because you know what? He’d be able to help us. Which is a lot more than I can say for you. What use are you to us right now?”

  “I speak the truth. I provide wisdom,” she answers flatly. “My brother can’t be here because of you. Could he have saved Vivienne? Perhaps. But that doesn’t ­matter now. We need to go immediately, or all of you may ­perish.”

  Blood rushes to my face. It feels like everyone’s eyes are boring into me now. Really, did Uriel pretty much just accuse me of causing Vivienne’s death? She might as well have just called me a murderer.

  I look back at Amara. “I can’t carry her,” I say, my face burning with a mixture of shame and anger. “My arm.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it. We can swap if she gets too heavy,” Cassandra says, stepping forward. She takes a black elastic off her wrist and twists her long black hair into a loose bun. Squatting down, legs apart for stability, she motions to Amara. “Put her on my upper back,” she says. “And then let’s get out of here.”

  JADE

  Carrying Vivienne is definitely slowing us down. We’re staying as close together as possible as we hurry along Commercial Street, both for safety and because of the dense fog. The street is still busy, but many of the lost souls seem more interested in drinking, ­singing, and arguing than paying any attention to us. It still feels odd being here, knowing I spent so many years of my life here and yet having virtually no memory of that time.

  Uriel leads the way, her shorn, pale hair making it easy to follow her. She turns back every few minutes like a mother duck, making sure we’re still behind her and out of danger. Impatience and confusion are etched into her face. We haven’t seen — at least to our knowledge — any more demons since leaving the area of the wall. I think that’s confusing her.

  “How much farther is it? I think I’ll need ­somebody to take Vivienne soon,” Cassandra says, her face red with exertion. Streaks of sweat line her face, and the neck of her dress is drenched to the skin.

  “We’re nearly there. It’s only about two blocks away,” Uriel says, throwing the words over her shoulder ­without slowing her pace. Her manner is brusque, businesslike.

  Cassandra stops, dropping onto one knee. “I said I need someone to take Vivienne,” she says, annoyance edging her voice. This isn’t directed at any of the Seers
—instead she keeps her eyes fixed on Uriel, who ignores her.

  “I’ll take Viv,” Amara says, her voice heavy with ­sadness. “I should’ve done that in the first place.”

  Cassandra looks away from Uriel and nods. “Are you sure? This has been hard enough on you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Amara replies, bending down and gently brushing a hand along Vivienne’s cheek. She draws her hand away suddenly, as though she’s just touched a boiling hot stove. Her mouth opens, lips curving to form words, but no sound emerges.

  “Are you okay?” Jasmine asks, putting her good hand on Amara’s shoulder.

  Nodding, Amara leans in close to Vivienne and puts three fingers to the side of her sister’s pale throat. Tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Shaking, she crouches down.

  “Put her on my back,” she says as the tears spill through the dark lashes of her lower eyelids and down onto her face.

  Cassandra raises an eyebrow questioningly at Jasmine as they place Vivienne onto Amara’s back. She’s clearly uncomfortable giving Amara this task when she’s so emotional, but I think it would be cruel not to let her carry her sister.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Uriel’s ­already walking again. There’s now about a ten-foot gap between us and her. She’s definitely not making any Seer friends on this trip. Not that she seems to care, anyhow. As we hurry to catch up with her, I make sure to keep an eye on Amara. The strain of being down here is ­showing on all our faces, and I’m worried carrying Vivienne is going to be too much for her, both physically and ­emotionally. We’re all ghostly pale now, and dark circles are beginning to stain the skin around our eyes. Uriel’s right about one thing — we definitely need to get back.

  It doesn’t take long for Christ Church to become ­visible just ahead of us. The spire of the building ­towers above us, pointing toward the night sky like a giant’s index finger out of the yellow glow of the fog.

  “Vivienne’s coming to,” Lily says excitedly. She moves beside Amara.

  “Wait!” Jasmine shouts as Lily reaches out for Vivienne’s hand to support her.

  And then I see why Jasmine shouted the warning. Vivienne’s sitting up, her body moving as stiffly as a geriatric patient that hasn’t walked in three months. Then she turns her head toward me, her eyes opening wide. There’s not a glimmer of recognition in them, just a flat, deep darkness.

  Vivienne’s gone.

  Lily turns her head toward Jasmine. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough.

  “Get away from her!” I yell. “Amara, drop her! Put her down!”

  The demon takes advantage of Lily being ­m­omentarily distracted to clamp its hand tightly around her wrist. Lily yelps in surprise as the creature leaps off Amara’s back and lunges at her with the grace and fluidity of a wildcat. Both the demon and Lily tumble to the ­cobblestones in a frenzied heap.

  Amara straightens and swivels around. Confusion sweeps across her face.

  Cassandra grabs her. “She’s gone. Vivienne’s gone,” she says, wrapping her arms around Amara’s shoulders in a gesture that is likely intended to restrain as much as to comfort.

  Jasmine steps forward, holding her pole above her head with her good arm, ready to strike. Her thoughts are easy for me to read. She’s terrified, totally unsure of what to do, knowing she can’t deliver a fatal blow to the demon without possibly killing Lily. And she’s remembering Jamie Linnekar and how his energy or something was still present enough that she was able to connect with him before beheading him the night we were attacked. She’s afraid Vivienne will experience some of the pain and be still aware enough, like a coma patient, to realize it’s Jasmine dealing the fatal blow.

  The thing is, we don’t know how to expel demons from the newly possessed. We’ve only been taught how to destroy the body.

  The demon sinks its fangs into the fleshy part of Lily’s upper arm. She shrieks with pain.

  “Kill it!” Cassandra screams. “Don’t let it take Lily as well!”

  Jasmine glances up at all of us, her eyes wild with panic, then back down at the demon and Lily. She bites at the corner of her bottom lip and swings her pole.

  The demon rolls out of the way fractions of a second before the pole crashes into the cobblestones beside its head, sending shards of bamboo flying. Lifting its mouth from Lily’s arm, the creature roars in defiance.

  Amara’s face contorts with pain. Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly, tears spilling down her face. I can’t imagine the feelings she’s struggling with right now. The thing is, every one of those emotions is ­definitely going to be making this demon — a demon with half a Seer soul — stronger right now.

  It’s clear this isn’t going to be an easy battle. The demon was already incredibly strong before it fully possessed Vivienne’s half-soul. And yet I’m not scared. Reaching into my pocket, I fold the palm of my hand around the ring. It feels surprisingly warm against my skin. I won’t use it unless I have to.

  I rush forward to move beside Jasmine as the demon leaps up and grabs at her. There’s no way she can do this with only one good arm. She quickly slides backward, just outside its reach.

  “Run to the church!” I yell toward the rest of the Seers.

  Lily manages to get to her feet, though she’s unsteady. The sleeve of her dress is bloodied and torn.

  “Vivienne!” Amara sobs as Cassandra leads her away by the shoulders. “Fight it, Vivienne.” The words are full of hollow hope, though. She knows her twin is gone. There’s an emptiness within the very core of Amara’s being now. And that’s because half her soul has been torn away. It makes me wonder what Jasmine felt when I was trapped down here and my soul was captive in an Ibeji doll.

  “Get her out of here!” Jasmine shouts. She doesn’t want Amara to see Vivienne’s body being decapitated. But most of all, we can’t chance this demon getting its hands on her. On it getting the shared soul of two Seers.

  The demon draws its lips back into an ugly sneer. I spot the half-moon-shaped chip that Vivienne knocked out of the bottom of her left front tooth last year. We were in class and laughing so hard at some random joke that she hit her mouth on the glass bottle she was drinking from. Tears well up in my eyes. But this thing in front of me isn’t Vivienne….

  I need to remind myself of this.

  And as if to confirm the thought, it charges at us again with the ferocity of a rabid dog. This time Jasmine connects with its neck. Her pole rebounds toward her, and though it knocks the demon back a foot or two, it leaves only a superficial red mark on its skin.

  Jasmine looks at me, her face awash with panic. “I’m not going to be able to do this,” she says. “My arm … I don’t have the strength or the aim.”

  I nod, grabbing the ring out of my pocket and ­cradling it securely in my fist. “Let me take care of it,” I say. “Stand behind me.”

  JASMINE

  We should just run, just try to outrun this demon that’s taken Vivienne’s soul and is inhabiting her body. That way we’d at least have a chance at getting back to the others. There’s strength in numbers, and being split means we’re all at greater risk. It would definitely be the smarter decision, and unlike me, Jade is usually sensible.

  That’s why I can’t figure out why she wants to stay and fight. Me, well, I want to get that demon out of Vivienne’s body, even if she’s still in there. But I’m well aware that my first instinct is often not the best course of action. Though the demon hasn’t ­possessed her for long, Vivienne’s lost a lot of blood. A lot more than I think anyone can survive losing, but I’m no ­doctor. She likely won’t live, even if we find a way to drive out the demon without decapitating it. I just don’t like the idea of some demon using her body as a house down here for the next few decades. And I don’t think Vivienne would’ve liked that either.

  The demon lunges at us again, and Jade slices through the air w
ith my pole, using it like a baseball bat to catch the creature squarely across its abdomen.

  What is she doing?

  “Decapitate it,” I say. She knows this is the only way to make the demon leave the body and to render it harmless. Why isn’t she going for its neck?

  Jade holds the pole up across her chest like a barrier as the demon swipes at it.

  “Stop,” she says. Though her tone is firm, it’s calm — incredibly calm. Just like it was when we were at the wall.

  The creature immediately freezes in place and tilts its head toward us as though waiting for the next ­command. I know that look. I’ve seen it happen with Mayor Smith’s work crews and when I was in the climate-change refugee camp.

  I turn to Jade. “You’ve got the ring,” I say, my voice thick with accusation and disbelief. “Why would you take it? How could you do that when we’ve risked everything — and lost Vivienne — to come here and put it back?”

  “I’ll explain everything later. You questioned ­whether putting it back was right decision, too,” she replies ­matter-of-factly. “Now stand back.”

  Before I have time to say a word, Jade walks up to the demon, holding my pole like she’s a major league slugger in the last inning of the World Series. “Get out of her,” she says through gritted teeth as she swings. The pole connects with the inert creature at the front of its throat, tearing open the skin and exposing what was once Vivienne’s spine. A horrible cry rises from deep within the demon moments before Jade takes a second swing. This one cleanly severs the head, leaving it to thump to the wet surface of the cobblestones, closely followed by the body crumpling beside it in a lifeless heap.

  I walk over to the head. Dark curls, damp from the effort of the fight, frame the ashy brown skin of the face. Vivienne’s face. Her eyes are open and stare, unseeing, at London’s night sky. The demon is gone.

  Crouching down, I gently push closed her upper ­eyelids. “Rest in peace,” I whisper. It feels so wrong to leave her body here, even if Mr. Jakande does know about the Place-in-Between and the risk we were taking coming here. My heart twists at the thought of telling him what happened down here.