Redemption (The Alexa Montgomery Saga)

by H. D. Gordon

  What I said was, “That’s my girl,” and together we set out to attend the funeral of the boy she had killed, of the boy that had sacrificed his life to buy back my sister’s soul, with a whole city of supernaturals to look on and perhaps not see the blood that had been washed from our hands, but they would be able to smell it.

  We went to say goodbye to Jackson.

  Pissed Off Sorcerers

  As surely as whispers were spreading throughout the villages, and as the Sun Warrior and her sister were saying goodbye a dear friend, news had travelled beyond the territories that belonged to the Wolves and Vampires alone. In the grand scope, the recent happenings were on the lips of most all, the talk having spread itself across their world like a swift wind, some feeling its gale as colder than others.

  After all, a Sorcerer had gone missing, and not just any Sorcerer, but Syris Stormsong.

  The stories about what had happened to him varied as surely as all tales told in tongues. But as the hours ticked on and still no word had been heard from the Syris, those closest to him had begun to fear the worst.

  And who was to blame? They weren’t quite sure yet, but they would find out. And when they did, that responsible party would need to be confronted and dealt with.

  Over the past forty-eight hours Syrian Stormsong had gone from a worried father to one pissed off Sorcerer, and he would find out what had happened to his son. If he had to use all of his Royal resources to move heaven and hell, he would find out. Syris had been private in his matters, but on this particular occasion he had told his father whom he was going to meet, not where or why, but whom.

  Syris should have returned two days ago, and he couldn’t be reached through technological means or magical. Syrian would not wait much longer. Surah would not let him wait much longer. He knew the girl well, and he knew that if the clock ticked on much longer without word from her brother, Surah would set out to find him. And God help whomever’s path she crossed. God help them all. This could be the beginning of a very bad thing.

  Nonetheless, if the King of Vampires and Wolves couldn’t turn over Syris or provide his whereabouts, he had better prepare himself for war.

  Syris and his—as of yet unbeknownst to him—last remaining child would get their answer soon enough, though. And then their aim would be set on a different target. Two different targets, actually.

  Nelly

  A silence that somehow seemed abuzz. Eyes downcast and full of secrets, whispers…accusations. They passed by not in groups but individually, each creature walking strong and solid, but silent. There were so many of them, an overwhelming number. Fae and Trolls and Pixies, Sorcerers, Leprechaun, Demons and Angels, Vampires, Wolves. Many more that I could not identify, not that I was certain my guesses of the names of the other races were even correct. I had never imagined such a place as this, never fathomed that it existed. So many souls living in harmony, if not for the black mark I seemed to be carrying across my soul, the sight really would have been beautiful.

  They would not meet my eyes. Not a one of them. Their auras—though that’s not quite the right word for it—were all I knew of them. But even that was oddly tantalizing, made me so badly want to reach out and Search their souls for the secrets of their otherness. I had never in my life felt more empty than I did on that night walking through the city known as the Outlands, walking down the red path under the black sky with its tiny glittering diamonds. I felt like a caged bird hitched to a wagon, observing the world but cut off from it, outside of it, broken from it.

  Alexa walked beside me. Kayden walked beside her. Tommy was on my other side, and though I could not bear to meet his eyes, I could feel his gaze on me. These three people were the only ones present who knew for certain who was responsible for the funeral we were going to attend. They had seen with their own eyes what I had done.

  But I could see the wariness of the others, or rather, I could feel it. When we had entered the city, with a very dead Jackson cradled in Kayden’s arms, they had all seen the blood that stained my clothes, my skin, my hands. The wolves among them had paced back and forth as we passed, heads tilted back, noses testing the air. They knew that the dead boy was one of their own, and their intuitions were no doubt filling in the blanks as to who had done that to him.

  A warm hand found mine, and I looked over at my sister. Her brown eyes searched my face. “You okay?” she whispered.

  I nodded, and Alexa gave me a look that said she knew I was lying. I squeezed her hand and spoke in her head. I didn’t consider this a cheat in my vow to Search no more. I had been sharing in Alexa’s pain since forever, and she needed me now more than ever.

  They know, I told her silently. They know what I did. They know what I am.

  Alexa didn’t look over at me, but I could swear her shoulders tightened a fraction when her silent response came. They don’t know shit. Just be cool, Nell. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you, even if they do know, which they don’t.

  I nodded to her because I knew that was what she wanted. But as every moment passed I began to feel that something was coming. There seemed to be a tension in the air that was ticking like old hearts, the sound growing ever louder in my ears. I forced it away and concentrated instead on the scenery. It had to be my own guilt making me feel this panic. Alexa was right. How could they know anything?

  Because an entire city saw you murder that boy, the boy now laying atop the unlit pyre. An entire city saw you: your eyes as black as a demon’s, blood on your hands, blood on your face. If you think the King isn’t going to use that to his advantage, you’re fooling yourself, Girl. If they don’t suspect you for what you are yet, they will soon. Your secret is known by too many. Soon it will be no secret at all.

  And then what?

  Then, the hunting parties will form. Then…death.

  I shoved those thoughts away as well. They could do me no good. We were approaching the pyre now, which was set atop the white sandy shore of a lake that shimmered silver in the night, the quarter moon reflecting on its surface like a white scar. Red maples encircled the lake, and their leaves broke free and drifted down to float atop the silver water like scarlet tears. I tried to keep my gaze on anything other than the bed of woven sticks and flowers that waited to be lit and pushed out onto the lake just up ahead of me. I tried to keep my eyes from him. But I could not.

  There he lay, stretched out on a bed made of branches and vines, resting forever. There was not even a breeze to stir his hair, no twitch of fingers, no sound of breath. As I looked at him I couldn’t help but think of the first time I’d met Jackson. Alexa had introduced him to me at lunchtime after she had met him in her previous class over a year ago back at Levland High School in Missouri; back before we had fallen into this dark nightmare. I remembered thinking that he was cute, surprised by the way that Alexa reacted to him. He had been the first and only friend that she had ever had back in the human world; the first person other than me that Alexa had allowed herself to become close to.

  But he was a Traitor. All along he was a traitor.

  Yes, that was true. But somehow it didn’t seem to matter now. Somehow, none of it mattered now. How could I stand here and judge the boy that was laid out on his deathbed, knowing I had put him there? I could not. I would not. Jackson may have been a spy for the King, may have started out as a traitor to my sister, but somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with Alexa. And in the end, he had made the ultimate sacrifice for her. A traitor by definition, perhaps. But if you asked me, his final actions made him a hero. My hero, anyway. He hadn’t only saved my sister, he had saved my soul.

  Tears threatened. I took a breath and swallowed them back.

  I averted my eyes now, looking over at Alexa, who had come to a stop beside me at the foot of the main attraction. Her shoulders were held straight and her head high. Her dark hair fell in waves down her shoulders, hiding the silver sun there, but the tattoo that marked the lives she had taken trailed out down her right arm, glimmerin
g like the diamonds in the night sky. I was struck with a sense of wonder that night staring at her. So stoic and strong and steady, her Gladius hanging between her shoulder blades by the vine of an exotic flower. So much a Sun Warrior.

  The waves of grief and agony washing out of Alexa’s soul were the only indication of her suffering. I shut my eyes and began to absorb them, cringing inside, so close to the fire.

  And then I was cut off from the heat abruptly, the pain and fire shut off as if by a faucet. I opened my eyes and saw that Alexa was staring at me. She shook her head once, just a tiny back and forth motion. I looked down at my feet, somehow ashamed, though I knew that she knew that I was only trying to help. She would not let me share in her burden. She would not see me suffer.

  A shirtless man with long silver hair stepped forward then, a torch burning in his hand. His arms had black wings tattooed into them, which trailed over his shoulders and connected on his back. His eyes were silver as well and filled with something sweet for my sister, flickering orange and silver as he handed her the torch. Alexa took it from him with a nod, and I realized that she must know this silver man, and was fond of him. I wondered not for the first time just how much had happened in my absence.

  Jackson had been washed free of as much gore as was possible, his ruined clothes switched out for a wolf’s fur blanket that covered him from feet to neck. I didn’t know who was responsible for this, but I was grateful to them beyond words for covering Jackson’s neck. The memory was more than enough of a visual reminder of what I’d done; of how I’d torn open his throat with my fangs. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, and my stomach roiled when the phantom taste of Jackson’s blood filled my mouth.

  Something is coming! It’s coming coming coming…

  I had to calm down. I glanced around to soothe myself. Nothing had changed. No King’s Warriors hauling chains and axes coming forth to bring me to justice. No angry mob demanding my head on a spike. Just more creatures filling in to take a spot beside the lake, and none of them could be a danger to me, because no one who meant harm could enter the Outlands. I took a deep breath to slow the irrational rambling of my heart.

  Beside me, Alexa moved forward and stood over Jackson’s body, staring down at it with the look of someone who will never see what lay before them again. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Jackson’s forehead, holding the burning torch out to the side as she did so. Then she whispered something so low that despite all of the supernatural ears present, I knew no one heard it but me, and it wasn’t my ears that I heard it with.

  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  My heart broke into a thousand jagged shards and fell to the pit of my stomach. I was going to cry now. There could be no stopping it. I sucked in air as quietly and quickly as I could manage, trying to halt the inevitable. Alexa moved back now, and with one shove of her left arm, she pushed Jackson out onto the silver lake and lit the pyre before it could sail out to the beyond forever and ever.

  Sounds. A woomph! as the pyre caught and the flare of orange and yellow as the flames obscured Jackson’s body from view. A sharp intake of breath, my own, I thought. Something breaking, the tear of a paper heart, maybe. Soft moans and silent cries and mutterings.

  And then, a shriek. A shriek that ripped across the night air, drowning out the sounds of grief and heartbreaks and breathing the way rock music would drown out turned pages and whispers in an old library. Followed by another call, and another, another, mingling together into one songlike, terrible cry. The tears that had threatened to spill from my eyes only a moment earlier were gone, dried up like an old riverbed.

  And the things that followed happened oh so fast.

  My hand flew up and covered my open mouth on its own accord. My eyes grew wide with guilt and recognition and realization. My sister’s brown eyes flashed toward me, settled there and asked a question that was answered with my expression. Her arm reached back and snapped the vine that held her Warrior’s sword in place between her shoulders. A scream. More than one, several. Moans and curses and cries in tones and languages that were completely foreign to my ears. My own moan, swallowed up in the cacophony of other noises, but mostly, in the shrieking summons of the Accursed ones.

  The Lamia had come. And I knew in my soul that it was me they had come for.

  Alexa

  The sound ripped through the night sky like a low-flying jet, making those beneath it tense their shoulders and cover their ears involuntarily. I knew the sound well, even though the first time I had ever heard such a noise had not been so long ago. Goosebumps broke out across my arms like fevered rashes, the cry of the Accursed bringing back memories like the cologne of a lost lover. A cool tingling sensation rushed down my back, seeming like a tiny person with shoes made of ice had skated up my spine. By its own volition, my right arm reached back and tore my Gladius free of the vine that secured it between my shoulder blades.

  My first thought after the moment of surprise gave way to rational cognition was not my own, but rather that of my monster.

  Let the show begin!

  My stomach tightened at the sound of its enthusiasm.

  I looked to my sister, not sure of what I was hoping to find there. Nelly’s eyes had gone wide with horror and dark with guilt. I gripped my sword, and the deadly silver blade slid out from its hiding place in the handle. Instinctively, my head tilted back and tested the air, though there were far too many creatures around to pick out the sickly sweet smell of the Lamia. Around me, chaos erupted.

  Creatures took off in every direction. The Pixies trailed low across the ground streaming light behind them like colorful comets, dashing into vegetation wherever they could find it. The Fae people released their tattooed wings into the air and zipped by with all the grace of fallen angels. Little brown Trolls with pinched faces hobbled off as quickly as their stubby legs could carry them. No one seemed to have the same destination in mind,—or any destination in mind at all—but they all had the same look on their faces. Terror.

  When my frantic eyes settled back to the spot where my sister had been only a moment ago, I saw that she was not there. Panic erupted in my gut like a volcano, and if I hadn’t spotted her through the crowd to my west, I may have passed out cold from the sheer sensation.

  Nelly was moving swiftly through the crowd, which still was crushed beneath the weight of those terrible shrieks. I took off after her without a second thought, and was surprised by how long it took me to catch up to her. Her fluid, almost sinuous movements reminded me so much of those of the Accursed, and I was thankful that I was behind her and could not see her eyes. It was all too easy to imagine them going a deep, endless black.

  “Where the hell is she going?” I wondered, leaping into the air to hurdle a Troll that was blocking my path. It was difficult to think with that piercing sound still filling the night.

  Apparently, my Monster had no such issues.

  Our sister has just gotten some callers, Warrior. She is going to receive them.

  Now a new kind of panic rose in me, something wet and hot and ugly. My hand tightened painfully around my sword, and I used all my strength to finally catch up with my sister. When I drew up beside her, it took me a moment to find the nerve to look at her face, so great was the fear of what I would find there. But I needn’t worried. Jackson’s sacrifice had been a true one, and still so fresh. Nelly’s eyes were the warm hazel that I always remembered them, not a stitch of black to be found there.

  Keeping pace with her and trying to talk to her was quite the effort. She was moving so fast, and I had the lungs of smoker. I opened my mouth anyway, and all I got out was, “Nell—”

  I was yanked by the back of my shirt to a hard stop. My shirt gave way to the pressure and ripped a couple inches down the collar. I would have fallen forward right on my face if not for the hold Nelly kept on me. A sense of wonder filled me as I stood there staring at her, realizing it was she who had halted me, so easily, and with one hand.

  Nelly wasn’t
looking at me. She was staring straight ahead with a look completely inscrutable. I followed her gaze and realized for the first time that I was standing just on the inside of the magical border that kept the harmful out of the Outlands. Beyond was a field of tall yellow grasses, their stalks stone-still in the windless night. Above, the stars in the sky stared down like the tiny eyes of indifferent deities. And ahead, just outside the border, the closest less than ten feet from me, the farthest hunkered back in the grass like a lioness in hunt, were some two hundred Lamia.

  I was so shocked by the sight that it took me several moments to realize that the shrieking had stopped. I looked out and was met by the stares of hundreds of all-black eyes. They moved not a fraction, their still, white bodies looking more like statues than of anything living. My Gladius burned icy cold in my hand. I hadn’t noticed their arrival, but Kayden was now standing beside me, and Tommy had taken up position on Nelly’s other side.

  When the Lamia nearest us stepped forward, I was once again halted by the hold my sister had on me. Every single stitch of me wanted to throw myself outside of the border and test the swiftness of my blade. When a growl ripped up my throat, I wasn’t sure who it was directed at, the Lamia, or my sister.

  Nelly’s voice spoke in my head then: Don’t be stupid, Alexa. There are too many.

  For some reason, I took offense to this. I knew somewhere inside of me that Nelly was right, and that she was only trying to protect me, but I was never one who liked being told what to do.

  The Lamia who had moved spoke, and any retort I would have offered Nelly got jammed up in my throat with the sound of creature’s rotten, singsong voice. “My Queen,” the Lamia said, and offered a curtsy that was absurd in its gesture. The Lamia met Nelly’s eyes and glanced over her shoulder at the city of the Outlands behind us. “I had not expected to find you in such a place, and with such a…plethora of rare delicacies.”