by Sara Hanover
Little sparks of fire burned here and there among the slashed skin and clothing and, heaven help me, all I could think of was Malender when I saw that. He’d come for Steptoe, and I hadn’t been here—none of us had been—to protect him. When had Justice been here? Before or after the ceremony? After, it must have been because the pool of blood was still warm and spreading. Then again, I had no idea what a lesser demon’s normal temperature might be. I wondered what might have pulled Malender here? The animal deaths? Did he think Steptoe had gone rogue? Then I saw the faint debris of flash-bangs among the flickering flames. Simon might have set the flash-bangs off too close to himself. Out of desperation, a last stand defense? I peeled my gloves off, cold or not.
I tried to pull the biggest gashes closed, willing the stone to go red-hot and cauterize them, but it was too late to stop the overall damage. I had to do something, had to restore my friend to what he had been once. Flesh closed in ugly purple welts, and yet he still bled as I leaned over him. Simon’s eyelids fluttered, and I stopped, paralyzed. He lived? I hadn’t quite dared to believe he could.
His hand closed on mine, his eyes fully opening. “I been tailin’ it, you see? Keeping you lot safe. But it caught up with me first. No help for it. Too fast for me. Moves like a whirlwind of knives.”
He looked it, caught in a tornado of slashes. “Just stay with me.”
“No worries, ducks. Too late for me.”
“Never! I’m here. I . . . I’ve got you.”
He coughed, a wet, choking sound. Blood trickled out of his lips as he did. I couldn’t bear it.
“Don’t you dare die on me.”
“It’s been a good gig. Time to bow out.”
“No!” I passed my left hand over him again, flesh sizzling as the maelstrom stone did the work I willed it to. It hurt him, I knew. The heat sizzled my flesh as well. He jerked and groaned with every wound shut, and yet the bloodstain beneath him continued to grow and spread. How much blood could one body hold? “I’ll bloody kill Malender,” I said grimly as I sealed another huge slash.
“Too wrong. Wasn’t him.”
“Had to have been. I’ve seen that whip of his!”
Steptoe tried to bring his head up, his skin as pale as I’d ever seen it, the English rose blush of his cheeks gone. “Look in th’ yard. ’Tweren’t him. I did . . . what I c-could.”
“Don’t you leave me. I’ll be right back.” I stumbled to my feet, angled across the driveway and then saw the ungodly mess scattered over the backyard. Something had killed a large gray-and-white owl there, feathers everywhere, the bird’s body twisted and ripped, in a heap.
But it was Goldie herself that tore through my sight, and the havoc she’d wrought, that filled the backyard. Her beautiful armor, ripped apart, her bow broken, her sword shattered into needle-like shards, her bloodied and contorted body surrounded by no less than four vampires, only one of which stayed in one piece.
The other three had been mangled, limb from limb by Goldie. She might have prevailed but for that last bloodsucker. I could see her throat torn open, his arm still over her torso where it had fallen, talons out, a piece of her bow buried in his chest as they’d both fallen. They’d taken each other down in one last, mighty struggle. Death throes wet the browning grass with blood and more feathers, and rags of the black shrouds the vamps had worn . . . I stood and stared, voiceless, in grief. Shock filled me, and I staggered back, my fist to my mouth.
What had happened here, at my home, while we were gone?
I made my way back to Steptoe and squatted down. I took the cuff of my sleeve and wiped his mouth dry.
“Goldie?”
“They got her, but it took all of them.”
He gave the slightest of nods. “She watched th’ house. Got caught up in it. No match for her either. Was the last watcher that got us.”
My stomach clenched in reaction. Dying, dead, gone, and lost forever. My eyes stung as hot tears spilled down. “Did you fight for her?”
“Best I could. It got both of us, th’ bastard.”
I couldn’t call Carter, still embroiled in the event cleanup and debriefing. I’d seen enough of the Master’s minions, all spiky and jagged, nothing human, but I wasn’t about to let him walk away this time. I should never have let that woman go at the swearing-in ceremony, nor the creature that I’d spotted outside the house. Had to have been one of Nicolo’s. This was my home and my family, and I’d failed to defend it. Never again. I could and did cry out the only other name that came to mind. “Meyer Gregory!” Three times only, and then, my face smeared with tears and blood, I kept trying to keep the life in Steptoe.
“Don’t be crying for me.”
“Then you stop dying on me. You’re my friend. You’re like my favorite uncle. You’re part of my family! Fight for us, Simon.”
“Can’t be helped, luv. Can’t be helped at all. We gave those suckers a good battle and lost.” His words wheezed. I barely understood him, but I did.
A steely resolve filled me. I knew where to find the bastard. Where to free other victims. Alone or accompanied, I knew where I had to go because Nicolo had been here. I brushed my sleeve over my eyes to see better.
The professor did not materialize out of thin air as summoned. Instead, a screech of car tires stopped at the front of the driveway, doors opened and slammed, footfalls ran toward me, and then warm bodies surrounded me as I shivered.
“I can’t—I can’t stop it. He just keeps bleeding.” I took a sobbing inhale. “And Goldie’s dead, in the yard.”
“Good gods,” the professor said as he bent over and ran the tips of his fingers over Steptoe’s forehead. “Who did this?”
“Can’t say his name, but I’m going there. We’ve waited too long. I’m going to put an end to him.” I flung my arm out and pointed to the backyard. “Out there.”
“Mmmm.” The professor left to see the carnage out back, and my mother slipped close to my side, putting an arm around me, warming and steadying me.
“It looks bad,” she murmured.
“I don’t see how he’s held on this long.” I passed my palm over an upper arm wound, but nothing happened. Futile, it had given him all it could. Weakness ran through me, we were both tapped out, me and the stone. The professor returned and got down on one knee, too. He took up Steptoe’s hand.
“There’s not much I can say.”
“I’m going,” Simon answered, weak voice barely above a whisper.
“Then there’s this I will do—for Tessa as much as for you. You’ve earned it.” Gregory took a small pen knife out of his pocket and made a cut against one fingertip and held it, dripping blood, over the pool under Simon. Crimson streams mingled with a faint humming sound. He said a few words that might have been Latin or maybe Celtic or maybe even Sanskrit. How would I know? His blood continued mixing with that spilled out of Simon as he finished in English. “You are hereby released from any bond I have placed on you, free, old friend, your redemption finished and successful.”
“Free?”
“Always and forever.”
A long breath quavered out of Steptoe, but he hadn’t quite let go. He looked for me, and found me, eyes bleary. “Watch your backs, mates. Th’ bastard is offering immortality for the stone.”
“We’ll keep her safe,” Gregory told him.
“Do that, guv. I may be back, if I can.” His eyelids fluttered again. His chest heaved up and down with a guttural sound and, at that, I heard his death rattle. I began to cry again before he ceased breathing.
My mother held me close, and I realized she cried as well. She drew me up onto my feet. Leaning together, we supported each other.
Steptoe’s body turned to ash, blood and all, crumbling away, every scrap of flesh, cloth, and hat felt, until nothing at all remained of him, not even his precious tail. Scout got to his feet, tiptoeing close to join
us and cautiously sniffed the now empty driveway. I forced myself to inhale. “Just like that?”
“Another plane, another form of existence. He doesn’t have a soul quite like yours, but he does have an essential existence. He’s not gone, in the way you might fear. But you’re not likely to see him again in your lifetime or even mine.” Gregory looked thoughtful for a long moment.
“What of Goldie?”
“Yes.” Gregory turned on heel. “That might be a tad difficult. Her nest will not be happy, but they should be notified. They will want her remains. I’ll take care of the vampire carcasses.”
I swallowed, not anxious to be confronted with harpies who were likely to be extremely unhappy. “Okay. I’ll be here for them.”
“You,” my mother said firmly, “will put on shoes and have a heavy coat ready. They’ll let you know when they’re here. In the meantime, we’ll be waiting inside.” She took my elbow to guide me away while I heard the professor chanting something to the wind. Even upstairs in my room, while I changed and dropped my dress in a bloodstained heap in the corner, I could hear his voice carrying.
By the time I was done, all sunlight had left the sky, and a sliver of moon fought with cloud cover to be seen, its silvery light dappling in and out. Mom stood in the kitchen. We waited.
We could hear the beat of wings, even against the growing storm wind. My pulse quickened in anticipation. Would we have a fight on our hands, or would they take their leader and sister and leave quietly? I ought to say something to them, but I had no idea what. I’d never had a sister.
But I knew what it had been to lose a father and a best friend. Loss is loss. I’d put my slippers on and hung my jacket over a kitchen chair, so I picked it up now and went to join the professor as we answered the summons at our door. He said softly to me as we crossed the threshold, “Best not to invite them in.”
“Really?”
“Goldie had steady moods compared to most harpies I’ve treated with. They can be a nasty-tempered race.”
“Understood. What should I say to them?”
“No names. None at all. Do you understand? We cannot risk drawing his attention. He’s already been awakened. We don’t want to draw him here. It’s best you say nothing at all. Let me handle the details, mmm?”
“Yes, sir.” I fell in a step behind him, willing to let the professor take the brunt of the encounter. Following behind him, I marveled yet again that the stoop-shouldered old man I knew so well was gone, morphed into this man in his prime with a stride I had trouble matching. Broad-shouldered and slim-waisted, he looked as if he could hold his own in a tussle, even against Carter. I did prep my ice spell as I hurried after, taking advantage of the lowering clouds and nightfall.
Up and down the block of our street, and even the block behind our house, the lights suddenly dimmed into twilight. I couldn’t tell if that happened through harpy magic or if it was the professor’s doing, but the flight came in, virtually unseen by any but us, winged women in armor as they ringed my backyard. The only thing not the least bit menacing was that they hadn’t pulled their weapons. Not yet. Wings spread and beating gently, they lowered until their booted feet almost, but not quite, touched the browned grass. A ginger-haired woman led the formation.
Gregory reached inside his overcoat and withdrew the crystal-headed cane I knew well, shrunk down in size to fit his inner jacket. It lengthened from baton size to full-fledged cudgel as he did. The diamond-like knob drew on whatever illumination the failing streetlights could muster and burned in reflection like a silvery moon. Without his saying a word, the cane identified him to the incoming flight. They touched ground as if reassured.
The head of the formation rested her gaze on him. “Finally returned, wizard?”
“Not quite in the nick of time, it seems. I mourn with you all the loss of Goldie Germanigold.” He spread his hands over the strewn remains. “She fought a bitter battle against a Master which should not be named, and we lost one of our own as well who came to her aid.” He paused, before thumping the end of the cane upon the ground. “We will avenge them both.”
The redhead, her glorious hair cascading down over her shoulders, her armor dyed in stripes of black and amber, considered him before answering, “We wish you success. We accept your account now as it is, but if we find out later than you have not told us the entire truth, we will return for you.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
I stirred behind him, feeling insulted, and he waved a hand back at me to still my restless movement.
Two other harpies took a canvas sheet from a backpack one of them wore and dropped it on the ground. In minutes, they had gathered up what remained of Goldie and wrapped it tightly in their tarp.
“What . . . what will you do for her?” I blurted out, unable to stay quiet any longer.
The professor winced.
“She died in combat. She fought well and hard and nearly won against impossible odds.”
The redhead assessed me before answering, “She is a sister and a war-leader and one of the best of us. She will be honored highly and remembered.”
“And her eggs?” I pressed, knowing she had never incubated any of them to life but that she always intended to, someday. We had talked about her progeny months ago, while on another quest of sorts.
“They will be raised, and her young will be taught of their heritage.” The redhead eyed me sternly. “And what will you do for her memory?”
“I intend to cut out the heart of the son of a bitch that killed her.”
The harpy gave a grim and lopsided smile, capped with a brusque nod. “So be it. Good hunting.”
She signaled the wing and they rose in their pattern, one of them carrying the tarp bundle close to her chest. Wings surged and they disappeared into the gray-and-black clouds lowered in the sky.
Gregory let out a heavy sigh. He turned to face me. “I should have expected it, but when I say keep silent, it would be best if you listened.”
“Obedience has never been my strong suit.”
“As well I know. I don’t believe you did much damage, but you need to understand your promise of vengeance will be remembered.”
Fury rose inside of me. “I won’t be hunted anymore! It’s my turn now. I’ve had enough—and I intend to put a stop to it. I’m going after him.”
He waved us inside. “Now to consider plans. From the way you talk, I gather you know where the Master may be most vulnerable.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” I admitted.
“Carter will have my hide if I let you go haring off to avenge our friends. We must plan—and plan well.”
We retreated and prepared to start a war council. It would be awfully short of our usual number, which hit me with a sharp pang somewhere close to my heart.
I should have expected that the wizard wouldn’t take being disobeyed lightly because he put something in our second cup of tea that put us out cold, me and my mother, and we barely made it to the living room sofa and armchair before passing out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SERVED COLD
IF MY TONGUE and mouth hadn’t been all swollen and yet dried out, I would have given Gregory an old-fashioned talking-to. But whatever he’d used gave me a persistent hangover and required two or three glasses of water to drown. Instead of yelling, I sat and gave him the stink eye as he bustled about the kitchen making scrambled eggs and toast for my mom.
He paused by my plate, spatula in hand. “Want any?”
“Dough.” I sounded like I had the worse nasal cold.
“Hmmm. All right then.” Gregory nodded at me and passed me by while I glared daggers at his back. I thought I heard a muffled snicker.
Jabbing my hand at my drink glass, I slogged down more until I felt like I could talk somewhat reasonably. “When id Carter coming?” Still a trifle nasally.
Mom discreetly shoveled half her magnanimous portion of eggs onto my plate and pointed at it. I didn’t want to eat, but it seemed mandatory, so I did.
Huh. Truffle salt and chives, along with a bit of American cheese improved the standard fare. Not that I would compliment him. No need to add to his ego. I did wonder where he got the seasonings, though, because I knew what we had in our cupboard and it didn’t include what I tasted. Had the old—hmmm, middle-aged—guy developed some sleight of hand in the months he’d been gone? Or had my mother just been holding out on me? I stabbed my fork full and enjoyed another mouthful. Really good. I evidently made enough noise chewing and swallowing that Gregory turned around and saw me.
He didn’t say anything, but I saw the faint smirk on his face as he put the cooking pan aside and refilled his coffee cup. It might have made me smile, once upon a time, but not this day. Not with losing Hiram, and then Steptoe, and Goldie. It made me realize how much darker the world could get . . . and had already gotten.
“It’s just us,” I stated the obvious.
“So it appears, but we are not woefully insufficient. Your abilities have grown, and your discipline. We have no need to worry about Carter, even though it is close to the dead of winter. I myself am robustly skilled once again. We should have enough in our armory to do what’s needed.” He paused. “Any flash-bangs left?”
“About eight, I think.”
“Excellent. I hoped he’d been up to leaving you with ammo.”
“He struggled with it.”
“Did he?” The professor looked thoughtful again. “Not on my account, I believe. Demons need their own renewal now and then, and he must have been fighting that off. It explains, to me anyway, how he lost his final battle. Normally, Steptoe would have inflicted a great deal of damage himself.”
