Dark Currents: Agent of Hel

by Jacqueline Carey

  My chest heaved in an involuntary sob and I gagged, half choking on my own blood. Hell, I should have stayed at Twilight Manor and let Lady Eris bite me. It would have been better for everyone. I swallowed hard, the taste of blood filling my mouth.

  My blood.

  I suspect that it must taste deliciously of brimstone and ichor, my dear. . . .

  It was more than just a cliché.

  Not just brimstone. Ichor, celestial ichor. After all, what was a demon but a fallen angel? That blood ran in my veins, too. The Norn had said the answer lay within me. And I was capable of feeling more than fear and anger, capable of feeling so much more.

  I met the mermaid’s sorrowful gaze behind the glass, inches away from me. I gazed at her with compassion and held tight to that feeling, letting it swell until it filled me. My shoulder blades itched in the place where wings would have been, and my heart seemed to expand within my chest.

  Compassion. Tenderness. Love.

  Holding fast to all I held dear, from Mom’s unrelenting faith in me to Jen’s fierce loyalty to Lurine’s mantle of protection, I gathered it and let it spill forth. To the timeless sound of heartbroken women singing the blues and sunlight sparkling on the river. To all that engendered wonder, from the mighty scale of Yggdrasil II and Hel’s undeserved trust to the Oak King’s indescribable majesty. To the ephemeral beauty of naiads and fairies and Garm the hellhound’s slavering devotion to his eternal duty. To all that evoked tenderness, from the chief’s love of this town to Gus the ogre’s crush on my mother to the booger-eating kid who’d helped me gather acorn caps in the park.

  Shuddering at the taint of ghoulish hunger devouring my innermost private feelings, I forced myself to offer them up as a sacrifice.

  I fed my best and truest self into the maelstrom, and the sounds of fighting faded.

  Feeling spent, I levered myself to an upright sitting position. All around the rec room, ghouls had gone still, pupils wide with awe, momentarily sated and blissful.

  “What the fuck?” Unaffected by the outpouring of emotion, Jerry Dunham sounded disgruntled. He knelt beside Stefan’s bleeding figure, dauda-dagr raised in his gloved hand, poised for the killing strike. “Let’s finish this!”

  Unfortunately for him, there was one other non-ghoul in this fight, and he wasn’t affected by what I’d done, either.

  “You’ve got it.” Cody leveled his pistol and fired, and Dunham toppled sideways, dauda-dagr falling from his hand.

  Thirty-nine

  The spell broken, the fight resumed at a shambling, incoherent pace. Ray D bolted and ran, dragging Mary behind him by the hand. Outside, there was a hoarse shout cut short and then a higher-pitched scream followed by receding footsteps and the sound of wolves yipping to one another in the woods.

  Dunham was a few feet away from me, pressing his left hand to his other shoulder and grimacing, blood seeping between his fingers. Dauda-dagr lay beside him where it had fallen, wisps of frost rising from it. With a concerted effort of will, I wriggled my bound arms over my hips, squirming until I was able to pull my legs through.

  “Daisy!” Cody was covering the room, unable to pick out a clear target in the fighting. “You okay?”

  “Yeah!” With my hands before me, I made an awkward dive for the dagger, the breath going out of my lungs as my belly hit the floor. I spat out a mouthful of blood, inching forward until the fingers of my right hand closed around the leather-wrapped hilt. Its bracing coolness had never felt sweeter.

  Cody scanned the room. “Where’s Dunham’s gun?”

  “On the bar.” Getting my legs back underneath me, I wedged the hilt between my knees and sawed at the rope around my wrists. Dauda-dagr’s blade parted the strands effortlessly. “Stefan?”

  Stefan groaned . . . and did the impossible.

  Reaching across with his uninjured left arm, he retrieved his sword, grabbing it by the blade and planting the hilt on the floor. Using the sword’s leverage, he rolled over, the edges of the blade slicing his palm as he heaved himself to his shattered knees and planted the sword’s tip against the center of his chest. His black hair hung around his face, and his breathing sounded labored but steady.

  The sound I let out as Stefan lurched forward, using all his strength to impale himself on the blade, was somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. The one I emitted as the sword’s tip emerged from between his shoulder blades to tent the back of his leather vest was more of a whimper.

  Once again, time . . . stuttered.

  It was like watching the flickering images of an old black-and-white film. One instant Stefan knelt impaled; the next, he was on his feet, whole and uninjured, the sword in his right hand. Dead one instant, cast out of heaven and hell and back onto the mortal plane in the next. I’d seen it happen with Ray D, but this?

  If I were the fainting type, now would definitely be the time. Instead, I severed the ropes around my ankles.

  “Guard the women and keep watch over Dunham,” Stefan said to Cody, who nodded, phosphorescent green shimmering behind his eyes. “I will handle the others.”

  Shrugging off the last of the ropes, I watched him exert his control over the remaining ghouls.

  The only one who made a move to resist was Johnny, reaching to reload his shotgun. Stefan was on him in two swift steps, his sword held low, the tip of his blade hovering in the vicinity of Johnny’s belly.

  What followed basically looked like a good old-fashioned stare-down contest, only with a hell of a lot more tension. When Johnny looked away and dropped the shotgun, the tension broke, or at least most of it. By the looks of them and the creeping sensation against my skin, a few of the more undisciplined ghouls like Al were still ravening, but Stefan’s control of them held. I guess there were some advantages to this whole hierarchical thing after all.

  “It seems after all this time there are things I have yet to learn about judging a man’s character,” Stefan said in a deadly tone.

  Johnny shrugged. “I saw a chance and I took it. You’re a warrior. I reckoned you’d understand.”

  Stefan gestured around the room with his sword. “This was not a worthy battle.”

  “I’d have made it right once I won,” Johnny said stubbornly. “I would have!”

  “No.” Stefan shook his head. “It would already have been too late. Such thinking is why you are, and remain, Outcast.”

  On the floor, Jerry Dunham gave a short bark of laughter that turned to a coughing fit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Lord High and Mighty?” he said in contempt when he regained his voice.

  “No.” Stefan spared him a single disdainful glance. “But I aspire to it.” He turned back to Johnny. “Take your people and go. When the ravening has passed, depart from my territory and never return. Is that understood?”

  Johnny gritted his teeth, but he bowed his head. “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  A cold rill ran through dauda-dagr’s hilt into the palm of my hand, reminding me of my duties. “Ah, Stefan? It’s not that simple. What about the ones who got away? Ray and Mary? Hel’s pronounced them under a death sentence.”

  “The runners?” Cody cocked his head, listening to the sound of yipping drawing nearer. “Unless they’re in a mood to get mauled, my kin ought to have them rounded up soon.”

  “Those are Fairfaxes out there?” I was touched.

  He gave me a faint smile. “I invoked clan loyalty. You’re sort of my partner, Pixy Stix. I wasn’t taking any chances.”

  Outside the shattered front door, the thick coils of an iridescent tail flicked. Ray D’s body sailed through the entrance and landed on the floor, looking slightly . . . squashed. Apparently he hadn’t gotten far.

  Lurine slithered through after him, bracing her spectacularly naked torso on her hands and arms before drawing herself up to her full height, the rec room suddenly seeming a lot smaller. Her worried gaze sought mine. “Hey, Daisy, girl! You okay, cupcake?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.�
�

  She poked Ray’s squashed-looking body with the tip of her tail. His sunken chest rose and fell feebly, breath wheezing in his lungs. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of—” Her gaze fell on the mermaid’s tank, turning thunderous.

  Ghouls scattered as Lurine flowed across the room and wrapped her protective coils around the tank, including me in their circle. She lifted the tank’s massive lid as though it weighed nothing, setting it carefully aside.

  The mermaid surfaced, her head breaking water, nictitating eyelids opening to fully unveil her lucent green eyes.

  Lurine questioned her in one language.

  The mermaid shook her head and replied in another, adding, “I listen long time. I speak some English.”

  “Rosie?” I asked softly, leaning forward.

  “Rusalka. It is not a name. It is what I am.” With an obvious effort, she lifted one webbed hand toward me. “Thank you.”

  I clasped her gray-green hand as best I could, tears stinging my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  The rusalka drew a long, sighing breath. “I know.”

  If I could have stayed there, I would have. But I was Hel’s liaison, and I had a job to do. Reluctantly, I extracted myself from the security of Lurine’s coils. “Take care of her?”

  Lurine nodded, tightening her coils around the tank. The ominous expression on her face promised a world of agony to anyone who dared entertain the thought of hurting the rusalka again.

  Outside, the Fairfax wolves were drawing nearer, herding their quarry relentlessly toward the Locksleys’ summer home.

  Inside, Ray struggled to draw breath. Unsure how to proceed, I glanced at Stefan. Now that the moment was here, I felt scared and uncertain.

  Stefan’s stillness encompassed me, cool and soothing. His pupils looked normal, and I could sense the effort it took to maintain his immaculate self-control. “You have a duty, Daisy. Are you capable of carrying it out?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice sounded small. “What happens if I do, Stefan? Do I risk my immortal soul?”

  He hesitated. “I do not believe so, no. Not for ending the existence of one of the Outcast on the orders of Hel herself. The divine laws that govern the taking of mortal life do not apply in this instance. But I cannot swear it. So I ask again, Hel’s liaison: Are you capable of doing your duty?”

  I took a shaky breath, gazing around the room. I had accepted this role. I had taken on this responsibility. My hand tightened on dauda-dagr’s hilt. “Yes,” I said. “If it’s what must be done, yes.”

  Stefan took a knee beside Ray’s half-crushed body. “The sentence has been passed, brother,” he said gently. “And one way or the other, it must be carried out. You loved, but I fear that you loved unwisely and committed sins in the process. What will you? I give you the choice: starvation and the void of nonbeing, or Hel’s dagger and the risk of a second chance at divine judgment?”

  Ray D’s fingers twitched in my direction. His chest rose, and he whispered something so faint I could barely hear it. “Maybe I can be with her again in hell. . . .”

  My hand trembling, I placed the tip of dauda-dagr against his breastbone. Stefan reached down to adjust my hand, relocating the tip under Ray’s chin. “What I did takes a great deal of physical strength,” he said in a quiet voice. “It would be better and quicker to thrust upward into the brainpan.”

  Closing my eyes, I did it.

  And yes, it was awful.

  Ray D convulsed, his broken body arching. I felt his death flow into dauda-dagr. A final death, a lasting death. The weight of it settled onto my shoulders, into my soul. I had taken a life.

  All at once, Ray’s body vanished.

  It was just . . . gone.

  I looked at Stefan. His pupils were wide, and there was hunger and envy and regret in his gaze.

  “He has gone to the final death,” he said formally, rising to his feet. “But our business is not yet concluded here.”

  After Cody handcuffed Jerry Dunham’s wrists behind his back, we went outside and waited in the driveway. Someone had turned on the outdoor lights, and it wasn’t long before Mary Sudbury limped into the circle of illumination. She was barefoot, having lost her shoes or kicked them off to run. Brambles and stray branches had scratched her porcelain skin, tangled her golden hair.

  Three wolves sat on their haunches just outside the pool of light, red tongues lolling, eyes reflecting green. Oddly enough, I recognized two of them: Cody’s brother Caleb and his wife, Jeanne. Don’t ask me how, but I did.

  “Thanks, guys,” Cody said to them. “We’ll take it from here.”

  The wolves melted into the darkness.

  “I’m sorry,” Mary said in a little-girl voice, clasping her hands in front of her. “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Where’s Raymond?”

  I felt sick.

  “Raymond’s gone, Mary,” Stefan said gently. “And you have a choice to make, a very hard choice.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her gaze met his, her pupils fixed and dilated. “Raymond promised to take care of me. And I’m hungry, ever so hungry!” She sniffled. “Will you take me home to my sister?”

  Stefan shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s over. You must choose your ending, Mary.”

  “But I don’t want to!” she said plaintively. “I don’t understand! It isn’t fair!”

  No, it wasn’t. My palm, wrapped around dauda-dagr’s hilt, was slick with sweat. “I can’t do this,” I whispered. “She’s right; it’s not fair. She’s ill, for God’s sake! She’s mentally ill!”

  “Life isn’t fair, Daisy,” Cody murmured.

  Mary Sudbury’s head snapped up. “Did you kill my Raymond?” she asked me, not waiting for an answer. “Oh, you bad, bad girl! Did you kill my sweet boy Raymond? I’ll eat you up whole, I will!”

  I didn’t expect her to rush me.

  Silly me.

  She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. Faster, too. The back of my head hit the pavement with a cracking sound. Mary’s pretty, doll-like face loomed above mine as she inhaled deeply, her eyes like twin eclipsed moons. “Eat you up whole,” she crooned. “Oh, yes, I will!”

  Feeling her hunger crawling over me, I panicked and stabbed her in the rib cage.

  Her pupils shrank. “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry!” I said in anguish. “I don’t want to do this!”

  A strange clarity settled over Mary Sudbury’s face, her pupils dwindling further. It was as though the pain had given her focus. Or maybe it was something more. Reaching between us, she fingered the inch of dauda-dagr’s blade that wasn’t buried in her flesh. “It burns with cold,” she mused. “Yet it purges, too.”

  I yanked it free, feeling the blade grate against her ribs.

  Mary rolled off me, staring into the outdoor lights of the Locksley residence, staring at the night sky, or maybe staring at nothing at all, not caring that she was injured and bleeding. “I murdered my son, didn’t I? My precious baby boy. I didn’t put him to sleep. I drowned him in the bathtub.” She turned her head toward me. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “You did.”

  Her hands found mine, wrapped around dauda-dagr’s hilt. “Let it burn, so long as it makes an end to it. There has been too much suffering.” She guided the tip to a point beneath her breastbone. “Purge me.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “Help us, O God of our salvation,” she murmured. “For the glory of Thy name. Deliver us, and purge away our sins, for Thy name’s sake.” Her hands tightened on mine. “Now!”

  I shoved dauda-dagr home.

  It wasn’t as hard as Stefan had led me to believe, not with Mary positioning the blade at the exact right angle, anyway. Up and under the breastbone, not through it. Not as hard as it should have been.

  Mary Sudbury sighed, shuddered, died . . . and vanished, her corporeal body taking leave of the mortal plane.

  I rolled onto m
y back and stared up at the night sky, wondering whether Mary had seen the terrible truth of her existence written in the black places between the stars, wondering whether that fleeting moment of sanity would cost her eternal damnation, wondering about the state of my own soul. I had a lot of unanswered questions.

  “Daisy?” Cody squatted beside me, feeling at the back of my skull. “You okay? You’ve got quite a lump.”

  That and I’d just killed two people. “Yeah, I think so.”

  He shone his flashlight into my eyes. “Pupils are normal.”

  For some reason, that made me laugh hysterically. Something to do with having dealt with a dozen or so ravening ghouls, I guess.

  “Come on.” Cody helped me stand. “Let’s get you inside. I’ve got to call this in.”

  Leaning on him, I examined dauda-dagr. There was blood on it. I wasn’t sure whether there would be.

  “Here.” Stefan handed me a bandanna.

  I wiped the blade clean before sheathing it. “I don’t understand this,” I said to him. “You . . . What are you? Are you alive or undead? Are you even real?”

  Stefan was silent a moment. “These are not questions I can answer,” he said at length. “The nature of our existence is a mystery. Is it part of heaven’s unfathomable plan or hell’s boundless cruelty? Or is it merely a flaw in the divine edifice, a crack through which we have fallen?” He shook his head. “I cannot say. I can only tell you that we think and feel. We possess awareness of self.” He laid one hand over his recently impaled heart. “Although I die and am cast back into the world again and again, my heart beats in my chest. Blood courses through my veins. I believe myself to be real.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “It is a difficult thing you did tonight, Daisy.” His voice was gentle. “You did it well. Had you not, they would have continued to prey on the unwilling. Neither of them would ever have found redemption in this world. Perhaps they will find it in the next.”

  I hoped so.

  Forty

  Inside, Cody argued for holding Johnny and his rebel ghouls and charging them with kidnapping.