The Dark Light

by Walsh, Sara

  “Did you find it?”

  I snatched up the bag and spun to find Sol at the door. “They’re right here. I was just coming down.”

  He closed the door and then sat on the bed. “Mia, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  “I’m sure,” I replied. “I’m nervous, though.”

  The drums rolled and I clutched the bag of spells more tightly. This was it. Any minute we’d leave the house, and, with a little luck, the Solenetta would be back in my hands. Would Sol stick to his word? Or would he force me back to the Barrier as fast as he could? That was all for the future. First, we had to get the necklace back.

  “Do you really think this is going to work?” I asked. “Malone must know who you are. Why doesn’t he say something?”

  “He knows only that I work for the king,” said Sol. “He doesn’t know I’m his son.”

  “Then why doesn’t he turn you in?”

  “Because if he does, he knows what will happen to him when we topple Elias. You don’t earn loyalty from a rat like Malone. You trade it.”

  Happy to spend these last few minutes alone with Sol, I came to his side, trying not to think what it would be like to fall back onto that bed with his arms around me. Now really wasn’t the time.

  “He’s going to know it was us,” I said, carefully placing the bag at my feet, conscious of the decimators inside.

  “But we’re not going to give him proof.”

  “Does that even matter?”

  “Depends on what Malone does once he finds the Solenetta missing. He may say nothing and slope back to Bordertown to lick his wounds. Coming clean to the Suzerain creates problems for him, too: why he didn’t pass it to the Bordertown sentinels; why he hung on to it here. I’m sure he could talk his way out of it, but any deal with the Suzerain is risky. If he does confess, things could turn bad here. It could be dangerous for you.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Changing the subject, I said, “Besides, we’ve got Vermillion on our side. I can’t believe no one told me about her. Did you see my face?”

  Sol laughed. “You said Delane told you.”

  “He skipped that part.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Sol. “Delane’s been wildly in love with Vermillion since we were kids. She came to court when we were eight or nine. That was it for Delane; he’s never been the same since. He’s incapable of rational thought when she’s around.”

  “Then you’ve known her a long time.”

  “She knows my father from years back.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Older than you think.”

  I recalled Vermillion’s tale of the girl from Jova City. How long ago had that been? Was the girl now old, her fears realized? Or maybe she was dead, her wish immortalized in Vermillion’s skin. I wasn’t sure if it was romantic or creepy.

  “Vermillion doesn’t swipe hair off pillows, does she?” I asked, thinking of my bed next door.

  “You don’t want to end up in one of her jars?”

  “No, thanks. She’s gorgeous, but I feel like she’s dangerous, too. Like a cute dog that might bite.”

  “You have good instincts,” said Sol. “You should never underestimate Vermillion. She’s one of less than a hundred rarefied Simbia left.”

  “Why so few?”

  “They’ve always been rare,” he replied. “And then Elias hunted them to virtual extinction.”

  The Suzerain. Was there no misery in Brakaland that he hadn’t caused?

  “I don’t understand why he’d do that,” I said. “I’d want the Simbia on my side.”

  Sol slowly nodded. “He used their blood to create the visage demons.”

  Sickened, I pictured Vermillion in all her glory, tried to imagine towns, cities filled with other beautiful Simbia. And then I thought of the visage demon beneath my window in Bordertown—cold, cunning, devoid of all the life that made Vermillion what she was.

  “That’s awful,” I said, though the words didn’t come close to describing how I felt.

  “He’s found other ways to do it now, using what he learned from working with Simbian blood,” said Sol. “But he’s made very dangerous enemies of those who’ve survived. Vermillion amongst them. She joined the Sons of the West, determined to make him pay. I have no doubt she’ll achieve that. Shape-shifters are formidable opponents.”

  It was all so wrong, as wrong as Narlow’s deserted streets and the sentinels who struck fear in Bordertown. How far would that monster go to get what he wanted? Did he care about anything, or anyone?

  “Sol, if you had the chance,” I said, “if you got close enough, would you kill him?”

  Sol had a curious look in his eye. “I don’t know,” he said.

  “But you must have thought about it.”

  “Many times.”

  “He can’t be allowed to get away with this. He’s destroying your world.”

  “What do you think this is all about?” he asked, raking his hand through this hair.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Boys playing games?”

  “If only it were.” He twisted toward me and placed his hand on my leg, forming a small intimate space between us. “He’s dangerous, Mia. He sees a world without the Barrier—a collision of cultures that could never endure. We know so little about what he plans to do next. We only know that we can’t let him get started.” He took my hand and his fingers entwined with mine. “Just stay close to me out there, okay?”

  I smiled. “Like glue.”

  “I’m serious. You shouldn’t even be coming.”

  “But you know there’s no way to stop me, so you’re stuck.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” he said, but he was smiling too.

  Yearning simmered inside me. It was both addictive and terrifying that I could feel this way about one person. He leaned in for a kiss, a light brush of his lips against mine. It wasn’t enough. Nestling in, I rested my hand on the bed, my other reaching for his face, his hair. Stop, world, I chanted. Just stop.

  Sol kissed me once more, his gaze lingering on my eyes as he pulled away. He didn’t want to stop either. I could see it in his face. With a half smile, he groaned. “We have to go,” he said. “You definitely won’t change your mind and wait here?”

  I shook my head.

  I watched him head for the door, torn between following him or calling him back. I suddenly had a shiny new plan. We could rescue Jay and then stay here, hidden, forever. No one would know. I could be with Sol. Elias could have the Solenetta. Without me it was useless to him anyway. Until he discovered how to break the spell that bound it to me, or cracked its secret in some other way. . . .

  With Sol’s back toward me, I glanced at the bag on the floor and images of the parade returned to my mind. I hated this Finneus Elias, and that wasn’t a word I used very often. I hated him. But maybe there was something I could do about that.

  As Sol left the room, I reached for a decimator and dropped it into my pocket.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  A massive boom resonated through Orion’s streets and an explosion of multicolored stars cascaded across the sky.

  “I guess that’s it,” I said. “It’s started.”

  “Then let’s hope the celebration brings out most of Malone’s men,” Vermillion replied.

  We waited at the head of a dark passage, which cut between the stores on the side street where Sol and I had followed Malone’s man. It was quieter here than the day before; most of Orion’s population lined its main thoroughfares. Rubber Man and his audience had gone. I peered down the street to where Delane casually waited on the other side of the store. We’d be in place for some time. I prayed we hadn’t missed our man.

  “Still nothing,” I said, and shuffled back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous.”

  “Think of the result. It is worth a little fear.”

  Vermillion remained in the shadows, almost invisible in a long black cloak. A deep hood shrouded the face of the J
ova City girl. “Sol told me what happened to the Simbia,” I said, and looked beyond her to where, far back in the gloom, Sol waited too. “I’m sorry.”

  “It is long past,” the Jova City girl’s voice replied. “But it will be avenged when that monster and his demonic hordes are wiped off the face of this land.”

  “I don’t know how you can to be so close to him and not try something.”

  “I have patience,” she said. “Great patience.”

  I adjusted the bag on my back, heavy with cloaks and spells, ropes and bindings, and thought of the decimator in my pocket. Would the chance come to use it? For Vermillion and the Simbia, for the valley, for Jay, for me.

  A familiar chirrup came from close by. Round eyes watched us from a gap where the bricks had crumbled from a wall.

  “Just a gutterscamp,” said Vermillion, with a loud exhalation.

  The eyes blinked twice and then disappeared through the gap.

  “It scared me to death,” I gasped.

  Heart pounding, I caught a breath before again peering around the corner toward the store. A man headed our way with crates piled high on his cart. Delane was hot on his heels. This was it!

  “He’s coming,” I said. I offered Vermillion a final smile. “Good luck.”

  With everything in place, I sauntered onto the street and to the window of a storefront across from the passageway. From out of the corner of my eye, I tracked the man and his cart. Thirty feet. Twenty . . . Hand dangling loosely at my side, I made ready to shoot Vermillion her signal.

  Ten . . .

  Five . . .

  Now!

  I pointed to the ground.

  A heartbeat passed and then Vermillion burst out of the alley and into the delivery guy’s path.

  I’m not proud to say that I learned a couple of things from Vermillion that day. From the moment she threw back her cloak, the delivery guy was doomed. She exploded brighter than the fireworks that sparkled overhead, a rich aroma of flowers and spice sweetening the air around her. Never once missing a beat, she kept to her story—ironically about a necklace, a gift from her dying mother, which had fallen into a drain.

  “Help me,” she urged, her chest pressed against the man’s arm, her eyes wider than a gutterscamp’s. “Please.”

  “But my cart!” spluttered the man, though his eyes seemed more interested in what was bursting out of the front of Vermillion’s dress. “It’ll get nicked. Find someone else.”

  He was not yet convinced, which meant it was time for “Concerned Onlooker” to take a shot at the Oscar.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said, springing to the man’s side and prying his fingers from the cart. “You can’t just leave her. I’ll guard this. Show us where you dropped it, lady. We’re right behind you.”

  “You’re so kind,” purred Vermillion, and seizing the helpless guy’s hand, she led him into the shadow-filled passage.

  Once the guy was safely off the street, I parked his cart about thirty feet down the narrow passageway. Ahead, Vermillion simpered in the man’s arms. She led him toward a deeply recessed doorway, close to where Sol lingered, hidden in shadow. Soon Delane appeared off the street, heading after the pair. With Sol waiting ahead and Delane following behind, the man would not escape.

  I spoke no word to Delane as he passed, but handed him the rope he needed to bind the man and the strip of old blanket that would serve as a gag. By the time the man was found or freed, we’d be long gone.

  My role complete, I left the cart in the passage, and returned to the street to keep watch. Distant music played. Fireworks exploded overhead. Barring a disaster, everything was in place.

  Though I knew I shouldn’t, I glanced behind me, hoping Sol and Delane were going easy on the guy, but I could see little in the shadows. It was probably for the best. Sol beating up on Malone was one thing; the weasel deserved it. But the delivery guy? He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  It didn’t take long for Sol and Delane to complete the job and emerge onto the street, leaving Vermillion to transform into the delivery man.

  “He won’t get out of that for a while,” said Delane, when he and Sol joined me.

  “Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”

  “Of course not!” he exclaimed. “The poor man was just trying to make his delivery.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Right into our hands.”

  A couple of minutes later, wheels rattled on cobbles behind us. Vermillion had picked up the cart from where I’d left it. The Jova City girl was gone.

  “That’s just freaky,” I said, when I saw Vermillion’s latest incarnation clothed in the delivery guy’s brown pants, yellow shirt, and boots. “You didn’t leave him naked!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Delane, and winked. “Vermillion left him her dress.”

  * * *

  “Here’s our spot,” said Sol. We ducked into a doorway in the alley behind Malone’s hideout. “Cloak on.”

  We’d sprinted across town, leaving Delane to track Vermillion as she navigated the crowds with the cart. All we had to do was wait.

  “It’s crazy out there,” I whispered, as I put on a cloak from the pack and raised the hood.

  “Should make it easier to get away.”

  “We’ve got to get in first.”

  Sol periodically checked the alley as I rummaged through the bag for Vermillion’s spells. It was all planned. She’d gain entry as the delivery guy, then stun Malone’s men with a decimator. Following her signal, we’d enter, find the Solenetta, then get our butts back to the safe house as fast as we could. Simple.

  “Don’t forget the counter spell,” said Sol, as he adjusted his cloak. “Never release a decimator in a confined space without the protection of the counter spell or you’ll knock yourself out in the blast.”

  “Got it,” I said, and held up one of the large greenish-yellow orbs.

  The minutes crawled by until, finally, the rattle of wheels approached and then the cart and Vermillion appeared. Gaze forward, she offered out her hand as she passed. Now she was safely off the street, I placed the two spells on her palm before ducking back into the shadows.

  Delane arrived moments later. “The parade’s at Tanner’s Row. I’d say that gives us fifteen minutes before it passes this way and the crowds start to thin.”

  “Is that long enough?” I asked, offering him a cloak from the bag.

  “It’ll have to be.”

  “And Vermillion?” asked Sol.

  Delane peered out, paused, then drew back into the doorway. “Just gone in.”

  This was it. Though Sol and Delane appeared calm, panic rose in my guts. I pressed myself against Sol’s side, searching for the reassurance his physical presence usually provided. For once, it didn’t work. Too many things could go wrong: Vermillion wouldn’t get past Malone’s men; she’d forget to use the counter spell and knock herself senseless with the decimator; or we’d get in and the Solenetta wouldn’t be there.

  “Get off! Get off, why don’t you?”

  I snapped out of my worrying to find Delane tugging at his leg. A gutterscamp had appeared at his feet. It pawed the hem of his cloak.

  “Get off,” he said, yanking again. “It was in the other alley too. It must have followed us across town.”

  “It followed us from Vermillion’s,” said Sol. “Mia was feeding it last night.”

  Delane stopped, mouth agape. “What?”

  Suddenly conscious that this was my fault, I pretended nothing was wrong. “That was him?” I asked. Its cute round eyes peered up.

  “Mia, you never feed a gutterscamp,” said Delane, and again yanked his cloak away.

  “Well, I know that now,” I replied. “Go on, boy. Beat it.”

  The gutterscamp gave a final tug, and then sprang off down the alley.

  “I only gave him a Snickers,” I muttered.

  Delane brushed down his cloak. “You know they carry screes. Get those in your hair and you’ll—”
/>
  I never found out. A muffled bang traveled the alley. A long, trilling whistle followed. Vermillion’s signal.

  Sol peered out. “It’s her,” he said, and the gutterscamp was forgotten. “We’re in.”

  * * *

  Three men lay passed out on the kitchen floor with the delivery of bottle-filled crates scattered around them. Vermillion, in her delivery man’s guise, ushered us past.

  “Malone?” asked Sol.

  “Not here,” Vermillion replied in the man’s voice. “Hurry. I’ll bind them. You find the Solenetta. Mia, the bag.”

  I handed it to her, then followed Sol deeper into the house.

  Inside it was cool and quiet, the only noise the sound of distant singing. A narrow hallway bisected the building with doors on either side. Paintings, of what appeared to be Orion’s streets, hung on the walls. About halfway down the passage, a narrow staircase led to the second floor. I tried to listen for footsteps overhead, but the singing from the parade grew louder, like a choir walked the streets, their voices airy and light, their words lost in the melody.

  “You go up,” said Sol. “Call to me if you find anything.”

  Jittery, I climbed the narrow stairs to a square landing. Three doors edged the space. Body braced for what might follow, I opened the closest one.

  Malone’s Bordertown collection had been impressive. What greeted me here was a nightmare. There was not an inch of space to squeeze anything more into the room. Pictures, clothes, teddy bears, saucepans filled it floor to ceiling. There was even an old tin bathtub buried beneath the clutter. If Willie was right and collecting trash really was a defense mechanism against misery, then Malone had some serious issues. Fifteen minutes until the parade passed by? It would take me fifteen hours just to get through the door.

  Mia . . .

  Suddenly frozen, I turned my ear to the air. “Hello?”

  Silence followed, but I’d definitely heard my name. Poised to run, I listened for the others downstairs. Nothing.

  Mia . . .

  Again. Definitely a voice. In fact, it was a whole host of voices whispering at once. And that song I thought I’d heard outside had grown louder.