I’d never seen a master such as this one. Why did I feel I knew him? The female servant handed him something. He lifted it: a knife that sparkled with gems. Turning in a slow circle, he displayed it to all present. The shining weapon brought my stone to mind. I wanted it. Now. I wanted it more than ever.
“Tonight,” the master said, “we will reduce this city to ashes and rubble. We will crush all humans within it. Difethwr, my servant—” The Hellion growled, and the master smiled. It was a smile I knew well, a smile of pleasure in another’s pain. “My servant Difethwr shall direct you. You Harpies, now gathered here, are the foot soldiers of my attack. In addition, Difethwr, in obedience to my will, has assembled a legion of Hellions. Even now, this legion waits outside the shield that protects this city.” He smiled his cruel smile again. “But the shield will fall, and we will prevail.”
With a flourish, he pulled the black cloth from the table. On it lay a naked human, bound at the wrists and ankles. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t move—only the slight rise and fall of his chest showed that he lived. I climbed into the air to see better. It was not an impressive human, neither large nor fleshy. And the face was marred: a long, thick scar ran from his eyebrow to his mouth.
That scar. Something nudged at my mind. I felt I knew this human, as well. A strange word whispered through my mind: Lucado. I didn’t know its meaning. Confused, I dropped back to the ground.
“With the blood of this man and the fire of the Destroyer, we shall pierce the shield!” the master shouted. Excited Harpies cheered and shouted. But I didn’t join their battle cries. The Lucadoword wouldn’t leave me, buzzing at the edges of my thought. Again, hunger faded, replaced by an unpleasant, queasy feeling. I wanted my shining stone.
The master covered the victim with the black cloth. “Clarinda,” he called. The female servant came forward and took the knife. “I must prepare my spell.” He smiled and puffed his chest. This was an arrogant master. “The spell that will open the shield and subject a legion of Hellions to my command! Where’s my servant? Where’s Difethwr?”
The Hellion still kneeled in its spot before the master. Rage flamed behind its eyes. “Here . . . Master.”
“Send forth these Harpies. Start the attack!”
“We obey.” Flames roared and shot forth from the Hellion’s eyes but stopped short of the master. The Hellion stood and raised its arms. “Harpies, attack! We charge you to avenge this master on all humans within the bounds of this city. We charge you to sow confusion and terror! Go! Now! Attack their parade!”
Screeching with excitement and bloodlust, the Harpies rose in a dark cloud. The cloud hovered, then exploded into a hundred different directions as my sisters went forth to seek their prey. I rose into the air also, but I felt no hunger for human flesh. I felt no hunger at all. The Hellion’s vengeance command was not for me. All I wanted was to retrieve my shining stone.
Lucado, Lucado, the night whispered as I flew back to the top of the building. As I landed, another word—Vicky—arose. That word was one I’d heard today. The child. The woman. Vicky, both had said, as though that word was my name. Vicky. My name.
Vicky was my name. I shook my head, snakes hissing. No. Like all Harpies, my name was Vengeance.
I hopped to the hole where I’d hidden the stone and plucked it out. Its light was dim now, not the glowing bloodred I’d seen before. Red—the stone must be red. It was important. And I had to do something when the redness returned.
I picked up the stone by its string and launched into the air. I’d take the stone back to my nest, and . . . Where was my nest? I didn’t know. How could that be? All Harpies have nests. But the thought of nest was a blank spot in my mind.
In confusion, I landed in the square. All the Harpies had gone. In the distance, I heard their battle cries and the screams of humans. I dropped the stone on the ground. Did it shine brighter here, redder? I bent to pick up the stone but knocked it with my beak. It skittered away, toward the building where my sisters had gathered. The stone glowed redder. Yes, its color had both deepened and brightened. I pushed it again, on purpose this time. The color brightened more. Carrying the stone in my beak by its string, I waddled into the building.
Inside, the shining of the stone was stronger, its color deeper. Beautiful. I felt happy, but still confused. I was supposed to do something now, but what? I flew up into the rafters to puzzle it out.
Below me, the female servant and the master placed items on a second table. The bound man—Lucado, something whispered—remained motionless, covered with the black cloth. The Hellion stood close by, tense with coiled fury, watching the master, its face a mask of hatred. I drew back on my perch. The Hellion’s expression was repulsive, hideous. Had I admired this demon? Now, hatred answered hatred. A chaos of feelings roiled in me. Anger. Hunger. Fury. Revenge. Prickling, burning sensations bubbled through me. I saw the Hellion, and I hated it. I wanted to fly into its loathsome face, pluck out its eyes, rake its skin with my talons.
The thought came from nowhere: My father. This Hellion killed my father. I didn’t understand, but I knew it was true.
Screaming, I dropped the stone and dove at the Hellion, crying vengeance. Vengeance! The demon turned, surprise and rage twisting its features. Vengeance! I aimed for the eyes. Vengeance! But just as my talons were about to strike, I fell. One wing, seared with fiery pain, collapsed and hung limp. I veered to the side and fell, hard.
When my body slammed into the floor, it broke into a dozen pieces—that’s how it felt as the pain exploded through me. Agony in my head—like my skull had split, my brain mushroomed. I couldn’t hear the hiss of my beautiful tresses. My legs swelled up into large, soft, sausagelike things, while my wings were losing their feathers, growing small and stick-like. As every part of me wracked with pain, I writhed on the ground.
“What’s that Harpy doing here? And what’s wrong with it?” A man’s voice pushed through the wall of pain.
“It’s not a Harpy, Master. It’s the shapeshifter.”
I hurt, hurt, hurt—as though I were being burned in a furnace, stabbed with spears, and pulled apart all at once. Twisting and struggling, my body gave up its Harpy form. As I found my way through the haze of pain, I knew who I was.
And I knew I was in trouble—naked, weak, unarmed, in-the-presence-of-my-worst-enemy trouble.
When the last spasms of the shift had shuddered through my body, I opened my eyes. Difethwr loomed above me, flames licking from its eyes as if hungry for my skin. It showed its teeth in a horrible laugh. “Hast thou forgotten, daughter of Ceridwen? Our mark is upon thee.”
The pain had drained from my body—all but my arm. The demon mark was on fire with searing, burning pain. That was why I’d fallen. My arm, still demon-marked while in the form of a Harpy’s wing, had failed when I tried to attack Difethwr.
The sorcerer appeared, standing over me. The symbols on his black robe seemed to glow and move. “Good evening, Miss Vaughn,” said Seth Baldwin. “Your timing is wonderful.”
“Go to hell, Baldwin.”
“No, that’s where I’m about to send you.” He smirked, running his gaze down, then up, my naked body. “A pity, perhaps.” Then his voice went hard. “Clarinda! Prepare a second altar.” He turned and disappeared from my field of vision.
Clarinda—I’d heard that name before. The witch who’d disappeared. Clarinda Fowler was the witch who’d leaked the information about the shield. All at once I remembered Roxana’s amulet, the shiny stone that had so fascinated me in Harpy form. I’d dropped it when I tried to attack Difethwr. Was it working now? Could the witches see—or at least hear—what was happening here?
I tried to sit up, but the shift had left me weak and my right arm was useless. I rolled onto my side and looked for the amulet. There it was, glowing with its soft light, about twenty feet away. So far, no one had noticed it. I flopped onto my stomach and crawled on my belly across the cold concrete floor. It was slow going; I couldn’t use my r
ight arm at all.
Difethwr growled. Flames hit the floor two inches in front of my face, blocking my way.
“Let her be,” said Baldwin. “Come over here and assist me. She won’t get far.”
He was right; I didn’t get far. Just far enough to reach the fallen pendant. Checking over my shoulder to make sure the others weren’t paying attention, I reached out and grabbed it with my left hand, the hand that was still mine. The right, marked arm lay heavy and useless like a dead tree trunk.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Baldwin sounded amused. Hands grasped my ankles and dragged me backward. The floor’s grit scraped my naked skin. I clutched the glowing stone in my hand, trying to keep it hidden, hoping the witches could hear us. Maybe they’d send help. But what kind of help could stand against the Destroyer? That was supposed to be my job.
Baldwin dumped me near the second altar.
“Give it up, Baldwin,” I said. “There’s no way you can blast a hole in the shield from an abandoned building in the New Combat Zone.” Can you hear me, Roxana? “Where are we, Washington Street? It’ll never work.”
“Stupid. Location makes no difference. But your blood will. Shapeshifter blood, mixed with the Blood of an Evil Man, will shatter that damn shield beyond repair.” He laughed and turned back to his preparations.
Clarinda stepped over me to place lighted candles on the altar.
“Clarinda,” I said. “Why are you doing this? You’re a witch. You took a vow to do no harm.”
She stepped over me again and didn’t answer. But she glanced at me with pain-filled eyes.
“My servant Clarinda is not permitted to speak,” Baldwin said. “She renounced her vow and bent her will to mine after she’d seen a small demonstration of what a Hellion can do. Her uncle, it was. I believe he was a client of yours.”
I stared at him. “Are you talking about George Funderburk?”
“Funderburk. Yes, that was the name. She’d created a charm to protect him, but obviously it did no good. When I explained that her child would be next if she refused to serve me, she gladly agreed. You see, I could create a spell to neutralize a single charm, but the shield was too powerful. I needed assistance. Clarinda’s has proved adequate.”
“So you sent the Destroyer after Frank, too. It wasn’t coming after me.”
“Not then, no. But it was delighted to find you there. As was I. I hoped I could deepen my knowledge of demonology through you, but you had nothing to teach me. I was already far advanced beyond your primitive skills.” He made a dis missive gesture and turned away.
I had to keep him talking. Even if the witches couldn’t help me, at least people would know what had happened here.
“What changed you, Baldwin? You wanted to be governor of Massachusetts—and now you’re bent on destroying Boston.”
“You’re right. At first I did want to be governor. I made ridding the state of monsters my issue. That weakling Sugden, with his zombie daughter, would never get tough on paranormals. So to win I had to increase people’s fear of the monsters. I summoned Difethwr, bound the Hellion to my will. My plan was to send an army of Harpies to disrupt the Halloween parade. With that kind of terror three days before the election, how could I lose?”
Exactly what has happening out there right now. “But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”
“Governor.” His lip curled with disdain. “Who cares about being governor? That’s not power. Real power, as my servant Difethwr helped me to see, has nothing to do with humans and their puny institutions. Real power is irresistible. Real power crushes whatever opposes it, whatever it wishes to destroy. Binding Difethwr has given me a taste of that kind of power. It’s intoxicating, like nothing you could imagine. And tonight, as I bring an entire legion of Hellions under my command, my power will be limitless.”
He scooped me up as though I were a child and dumped me onto the makeshift altar. The amulet fell from my hand. Baldwin saw it and laughed. He held me flat on the altar. I struggled and kicked, but I hadn’t recovered my full strength. I did land one good kick in Baldwin’s stomach. He gasped and doubled over. I slammed him in the forehead with another kick.
He staggered back, but my bare foot hadn’t done any real damage. Where were my stiletto-heeled boots when I needed them? I jumped off the table and ran for the door.
“Difethwr, you fool, stop her,” Baldwin wheezed. I’d winded him, but the Hellion still heard the command. It appeared in front of me, its teeth bared, its eyes simmering with flame. Slime dripped from its warty blue skin. It reached for me, and I backed up, my right arm throbbing with fiery pain. Difethwr advanced, laughing, its eye-flames inches from my skin. It forced me back, until I bumped into the altar table behind me.
“Bind her,” Baldwin said. “She’s wasted too much time already.”
Difethwr reached for me. Flames sparked from its fingertips, sheets of fire shimmered along its skin. I felt the heat approach, smelled sulfur and charred flesh. “No!” I screamed. I couldn’t let it touch me. I couldn’t. Still it came closer, reaching. I leaned back over the table until I was half lying on it again. I was trapped. Difethwr reached out to touch my right arm, which lay unmoving, obedient, awaiting the Hellion’s will.
Our mark is upon thee, it had said.
It’s inside me, I’d told Aunt Mab. I can’t get it out.
The Hellion touched me. It touched my defenseless arm, and the mark exploded with new pain. The demon essence, in contact with its source, burned through my arm in an enormous surge of power, like a never-ending lightning strike. I screamed and screamed.
Difethwr bellowed, its own voice rising into a howl of pain. It tried to pull back its hand, but it couldn’t. It was locked onto my flesh, onto the demon mark, as though welded there.
Baldwin appeared, furious. “Difethwr, what in hell are you—?”
Words poured forth from me in a torrent. I didn’t know where they came from; I barely recognized my own voice:
“This Hellion is mine! I have the greater claim; our marks are upon each other. I repudiate your mastery, human, and bind Difethwr to me.” A sound like a thunderclap shook the building, as furnace-fierce heat blasted through the room. Difethwr reeled backward, its hand free, and for a moment everything froze.
There was no sound, not even a whisper of wind through the broken windows.
The first thing to penetrate the silence was Difethwr’s laugh, a low rumble that rose in pitch and strength until it sounded like a roomful of damned souls howling. Baldwin’s mouth dropped open. Fear glittered in his eyes. Difethwr moved toward him, each footstep shaking the ground. Blue and yellow flames shot from its eyes, its mouth. Its entire body blazed with fire.
“No! Stop! I command you!” screamed Baldwin. He commanded nothing now. The Hellion advanced. Baldwin turned and tried to run, but he tripped on his long black robe and fell hard, facedown. The flames of the Destroyer singed the hem of the garment. Baldwin whimpered in terror.
“Stop, Hellion!” I called. “Arhosa!”
Difethwr jerked, then stood still, as though some hand had yanked an invisible leash. It turned, slowly, and glared at me with bottomless hatred. It gnashed its teeth and made slashing motions with its claws. Its eye-flames shot toward me, but extinguished before they came near.
I climbed down from the altar and stood as tall as I could. I pointed at the demon; it cringed and wailed and howled. The Hellion’s flames flared out in all directions. Except mine.
“Difethwr,” I said, the words ringing clearly, “I banish thee back to the Hell whence thou came.”
The Hellion shuddered. It contorted its body, bending its spine and twisting its limbs, and moaned in pain. “We cannot go,” it whimpered. “The shield holds us in.”
I picked up the amulet from the floor and held it to my mouth like a microphone. “Now!” I shouted. “Open the shield!”
Nothing happened. Ten seconds, Roxana had said, but I couldn’t count. There was no time in this momen
t—how can you pick ten seconds out of eternity? Difethwr moaned and writhed, and its moaning and writhing were eternal, the fate of the damned.
Then a whirling light appeared, and time began again. Faint at first, the light quickly intensified, spinning faster and faster into a funnel shape directly above the Hellion’s head. Faster and brighter it whirled, until Difethwr began to grow misty and whirl with it, sucked into the vortex, inch by inch. The demon bellowed and roared, but the sounds grew faint, like an animal’s cry half-heard across a foggy marsh. The vortex of light sucked Difethwr into the air. In another moment, the Hellion was through the vortex and gone, except for the fading echo of an angry, tormented howl.
29
THE MOMENT THE SHIELD SNAPPED SHUT, I COLLAPSED LIKE a marionette whose strings had been cut, landing in a heap on the cold floor. The light of the vortex still dazzled me; I couldn’t see past the colored spots that swarmed across my vision. Every inch of my body shook. My teeth chattered. Nausea suffused my stomach. But in the cold, trembling, aching lump of flesh my body had become, one feeling predominated.
And that feeling was nothing. I felt nothing whatsoever in my demon-marked arm.
The nothingness wrapped around me like a cocoon. Far off, I could hear scuffling and muted shouting. I tried to rouse myself and go after Baldwin—I couldn’t let that son of a bitch get away—but I was shaking too hard to stand. I raised my right hand, amazed that it obeyed me, and flexed my fingers. They were shaky, but they worked. No twinges. No tingling or burning below the skin. My arm was my own.
“Are you all right?” A woman’s voice pushed through the cocoon. A face materialized in front of me and came into focus, the eyes squinting with concern. Clarinda, the missing witch.
“Where’s Baldwin?” I asked, trying to jump to my feet but losing balance and falling back again.
“It’s all right,” she said, putting a hand on my shoulder to keep me from getting up again. “He’s not going anywhere. I immobilized him with a binding spell.”
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