Death, and the Girl He Loves

by Darynda Jones

  He shrugged as he piled a plate high. “I didn’t see the point in not telling him,” he said.

  Brooklyn pointed her fork at him. “So, he knows you took his brother?”

  “He knows.”

  “And he’s okay with that?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, stabbing a potato and lifting it to his mouth. “Once I told him I could kill an entire army with a single touch, he didn’t ask many questions.”

  * * *

  The storm churned above us all morning, the rain hard and unforgiving. Granddad and Mac went out in search of any place Dyson might hide while the sheriff checked all the hotels and rental properties. Today was literally our last day on earth if we didn’t get this figured out soon. If we didn’t find Dyson soon.

  But the clouds were beginning to worry me. They looked an awful lot like my vision. Low. Dark. Volatile.

  Brooke hung up her phone. We were hanging in my bedroom, watching gag reels from our favorite movies on the Internet when her mom called. “Okay,” she said, “Mom said for us to meet everyone at the church. That’s going to be our headquarters, so we’re supposed to bring—”

  “What day is it?” I asked, gazing out into the storm, a little mesmerized.

  “Saturday.”

  Jared was also gazing out into the storm, and Cameron was literally out in it, standing on the fire escape.

  I stepped to Jared, my heart breaking into a million pieces. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

  He offered only the barest hint of a nod, seeming as surprised as I was. Cameron opened the window and climbed in, soaking my floor. He shook off some of the water, then regarded us with a grim expression.

  “We doing this or not?”

  Jared nodded again. “We’re doing it.”

  Brooke stood slowly while Glitch and Kenya looked on. “I thought we had another day.”

  And that, too, would be my fault. “I’m sorry. I got my days mixed up.”

  “No,” Cameron said. “If you included the day you saw everything, if you included Tuesday, then that would be five days. From what I understand, visions aren’t an exact science.”

  Brooke stood cemented to the spot. “We have to call everyone. We have to warn them.”

  The look Cameron gave her was so full of longing, so full of what-ifs, I wanted to cry. “I’ve failed,” I said, stunned. I was actually beginning to believe all the crap flying around. All the prophecies and promises that I was magically going to figure it out. But those were not normal clouds. The gates were opening, and they were opening fast.

  I grabbed my jacket. “He has to be out there,” I said, readying to leave. “He has to be out in this. It’s the only way.”

  Jared and Cameron exchanged charged looks. “We’ll find him,” Jared said.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Lorelei, I can’t let you do that.”

  “Let me rephrase that,” I said, stepping close. “I’m not leaving you. And I’m not letting you leave me. If this is all the time we have left, we’re spending it together.”

  Before he could reply, Cameron questioned Brooke with his eyes, his expression fierce. “Brooke?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t dream of missing this.”

  “I’m in,” Glitch said, grabbing his jacket as well.

  “Oh, hell yes,” Kenya said, and I decided to write her enthusiasm off as naïveté.

  We piled into Cameron’s truck, but Kenya said she forgot something and ran back inside. She climbed in the bed, which thankfully had a camper shell, and we tore out of the parking lot with a vengeance. Brooke called her parents to tell them what was going on, and I tried to call my grandparents, but no one picked up. Really? At a time like this? They really were the worst with their phones.

  Brooke’s mom promised to let them know; then she begged Brooke to get to the church. “I will, Mom, as soon as we get this taken care of.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for strength, for guidance, and for superpowers.

  * * *

  Just like in my visions, the clouds churned with an eerie darkness that reminded me of a cauldron from a witch’s brew. Fear didn’t consume me. It was there, but it didn’t consume me. Regret consumed me. The realization that we had failed consumed me. The war was starting and I didn’t stop it. The prophecies—the dozens of prophecies that promised their believers deliverance from this horror by means of a powerful descendant of Arabeth—were wrong. Plain and simple. Or they simply put their money on the wrong girl.

  I wasn’t strong enough. Or perhaps I wasn’t smart enough. Whatever it was I was supposed to do to stop the war before it ever started did not come about. I’d messed up somewhere. I’d taken a wrong turn. And because of it, the world was going to pay a very high price.

  Tears stung my eyes from both the emotion roiling inside me and the wind whipping my hair across my face. We found the center of the storm and assumed Dyson would be there, so that’s where we got out. Cameron and Jared took swords out of the bed of the truck. They’d clearly been prepared for my failure, not a good feeling.

  A particularly strong gust of rain and wind almost brought me to my knees. I caught myself and looked up. In the middle of the cauldron, a vortex spun and swirled.

  “Look!” I cried above the noise.

  Everyone watched as its center opened and dark, inklike beings, fleshless shadows in the air, slithered out. Each one paused, seemed to get its bearings, then darted off in whichever direction it chose. Some headed toward Riley’s Switch. Some scurried over the landscape toward bigger and better seas. Albuquerque. Santa Fe. Las Cruces. And beyond. They would soon spread through the sky like a monumental murder of crows, attacking people as they went.

  It was exactly as I’d envisioned it. I stood watching the horror unfold before my eyes. Kenya stood beside me, ever faithful, ever naïve.

  I yelled to her above the stinging rain. “It’s over!” I said, my voice barely audible. “I’ve failed.”

  But Kenya was in shock. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, she’d never imagined what it would look like. She’d never imagined it would come to this, her faith so complete. She’d brought me something. In her hand was a stack of old photographs, growing wetter by the second.

  That’s what she’d gone back for? Pictures?

  I looked away from her, sorrow eating me from the inside out. I’d let her down so monumentally. So completely.

  We watched as Jared went in search of Dyson. Cameron stayed close, shielding his eyes from the rain, waiting for a signal from Jared. But none came. Jared disappeared over the landscape, the grayness of the day making it impossible to follow him for long.

  The shadows were getting closer. Anytime they got too close, Cameron would move to block them, but their numbers were growing by the second. We couldn’t do this all day.

  Just then we spotted Jared jogging back to us. He motioned for us to get in the truck. They were following him, a group of the shadows, and he transformed before our eyes. He’d become something other. He’d become like them, and I stood transfixed as I watched him. Mesmerized. One moment he was as solid as I was. Broad shoulders. Solid stance. Muscles straining against the weight of the sword he wielded. The next, he was smoke. A magnificent phantom fighting ghosts, the spirits of those sent to hell. They’d been sent for a reason and they fought dirty. They came at him in droves. Nipped at him. Ripped at his smoky essence until pieces of him came off in what I could only assume was their mouths.

  He faltered and they pounced like hungry jackals. My hands flew to my mouth as he disappeared beneath them.

  I tried to run to him, but Cameron pushed me back. I stumbled, fell to the ground, looked up at him with a new anger bursting inside me, and screamed. “What is the use?” I yelled above the roar of the wind, freezing rain pelting my face like frozen razor blades.

  Brooklyn huddled beside me, shaking from the cold.

  “What does it matter now?”

  Cameron turned on me, his anger
matching my own. “If you don’t do this soon, there will be nothing left to save!”

  Was he kidding me? Do what? I decided to ask him as another spirit rushed forward only to be thwarted by him, a nephilim. For some reason, they didn’t seem to be able to enter him. But I had no idea what he wanted me to do.

  “Do what?” I screamed again. “Do what, do what, do what, do what?”

  He bent down to me, lifted me to my feet by my saturated shirt collar, and growled in my face, “Do what it is that you do, and do it fast. You are the only one who can stop this.”

  Glitch stood in shock. I followed his gaze to Kenya. She was on the ground, her head thrown back, her spine arched to the point of snapping. Her eyes had rolled into her head until only the white remained. The horrific scene was a replay of what I’d already seen. Soon her bones would break, one by one, just like in my vision.

  I ran and threw myself over her in an attempt to stop the spasms. Brooklyn did the same. She followed me, fell to her knees, tried to stop Kenya’s head from thrashing. Realizing somewhere deep inside how ridiculous my actions were, I screamed above the wind for whatever was inside her to stop. It did not hear me. Or it chose not to listen.

  Kenya started convulsing. The tendons in her neck stretched to near breaking point; her arms, locked and rigid, did the same. Her spasming legs lifted her off the ground, arched her back until, to my complete and utter horror, her spine snapped. Before I could try to pull her to me, to cradle her, Cameron appeared. Without hesitation, he took her head into his hands and twisted. She died instantly, collapsing into my arms. Brooklyn pressed one hand to her mouth. She swayed as though about to pass out.

  After a moment, Kenya released the pictures she’d brought. They fluttered out of her hands and spread in the wind, curling and flipping like fall leaves. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and Brooklyn did the same to me. She took hold of my hand, squeezing and crying and praying.

  I saw sneakers standing beside me. I looked up at Glitch. He blinked, his gaze moving away from the horrific scene before him, watching the photographs dance around us. He reached up. Tried to catch one. Missed. Then, as if it were the only thing that mattered—that one photograph that was of no importance whatsoever—he sprinted after it. He dodged past plundering spirits, updrafts of rain and wind, and sagebrush.

  The rain was becoming colder and colder. The wind stronger and stronger. It literally dragged me off Kenya, out of Brooklyn’s embrace as though it had an agenda. We clutched on to each other and watched as Glitch dived through the air for the picture. With all the dirt and rain swirling around him, I couldn’t tell if he caught it or not. He fell to the earth on his stomach and slid a good five feet in the muddy, unforgiving terrain of the New Mexico desert.

  Then the thing I feared most happened. A thundering crash sounded close by, like something falling to the earth. A thick, black smoke gathered and centralized until it started forming mass, taking shape. Soon wide shoulders topped the trees just beyond the clearing. An animalistic head. A demon materialized before us.

  That was when I caught sight of Jared again. He had escaped the melee. I had no idea how, but a joy that I thought I’d never feel again spread through me. He sought me out, gave me a quick once-over, then scrambled past the other spirits itching for a piece of him, and slid until he stood before the demon, sword at the ready. But another thundering crash sounded beside that one. A puff of mud and water rose up like a meteor had crash-landed; then another demon materialized beside the first one. Then another.

  Three demons, each the size of a three-story building, stood before him.

  I’d seen him fight one before. I’d had a vision of that very thing before I ever met him. He’d fought hard, been wounded, but eventually he prevailed. It was not an easy victory, and that was against just one. There were three. And probably more on the way.

  I stood up, fighting the wind with every ounce of strength I had. Jared could not fight them alone, and Cameron wouldn’t leave my side. I had no choice but to release the beast inside me. I didn’t know how to summon him exactly, so I just thought about it really hard and ordered him out. I needed him. He’d been crashing at my place, literally, for a decade. It was time he earned his rent.

  An acidic smoke exited out of my lungs and started to take shape beside me. It burned my throat and left me even colder than I already was. When Malak-Tuke formed fully, I pointed to where Jared fought.

  “Help him,” I said, and Malak was gone.

  The demons were so fast. So lethal. Solid muscle complemented with speed and a thirst for blood. But Malak took them by surprise. They hadn’t expected a fight with one of their own. The first one met its demise with a handful of claws across the throat, almost beheaded in one lethal swipe. The second readied himself, prepared to square off against the great Malak-Tuke.

  Jared fought the third—a scene that reminded me of David and Goliath—as Malak brought the other one down, but only for a moment. Their movements were so fast, my eyes could hardly keep up. They were struggling upright one moment, then wrestling on the ground the next.

  I heard another thunderous crash in the distance and knew that another demon had entered this plane. Dyson had to be close. He just had to be. If I could stop him, we might could figure out a way to close the gates. He would have the book, the grimoire, if there was such a thing. We could use it. We could stop it.

  Malak disentangled himself from the other demon and straightened to his full height. Though he looked exactly like the other three, I knew he was the victor, because I knew him. Had for a long time. He’d been living inside me, and we now thought very much alike, so when I said to him, “Get Dyson!” I knew he’d know what to do.

  He turned and looked across the land from his imperial vantage point. Then he took off. A mass of flesh and fog, muscle and sinew, he sped over the land and through the trees until he disappeared. I called after him, “And bring me the book!”

  I didn’t get a reply. Malak wasn’t the talkative type, but I was certain he would hear me.

  Jared had almost downed the third demon. It fell to one giant knee, and he brought his sword at the ready, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin glimmering in what little light filtered through the storm.

  Another thunderous crash sounded in the distance. That made five. Two down. One on the way out. Two left. How many more would come through before we could get the gate closed?

  “Lorelei!”

  I turned to see Glitch trying to get back to me. He was waving his hand about, trying to show me something.

  “I got one!”

  One? A picture? Had he caught one of the pictures Kenya brought out? Why? I thought, as despair so deep and desperate tried to get a foothold on my emotions. I’d lost sight of Brooke and could no longer see Kenya’s body.

  I turned back to Glitch. A tree behind him started to wobble. Not just bend to the wind’s will, but wobble as though it were going to topple over. As Glitch struggled to get to me, it tipped sideways and I realized it would fall right in his path. I screamed to him and pointed, but he didn’t see me through the maelstrom. He ran, holding the photograph above his head as the tree descended far faster than I thought possible. As though it were aiming for him. Targeting him.

  I pointed again and again, screaming louder and louder. The second I thought to summon Malak—surely he could stop it, surely he could get here in time—the tree crashed to the ground. Even more dirt and debris rose until visibility was all but gone. I lost sight of Glitch completely.

  Though I could see almost nothing, I ran forward, stumbling over the uneven ground. I heard Cameron call my name, then Brooklyn, but I couldn’t see them either. Their voices grew distant, but I continued forward until a branch stabbed my shoulder.

  I’d found the tree, and I called out to Glitch. Again and again as I searched blindly through sharp, protruding limbs. They scratched and scraped as I fought them. I fell to my hands and knees and crawled until my hands found something sof
t and warm. I held back the attacking branches and looked down. It was the back of Glitch’s head.

  “Glitch!” I scurried around, angling for a better look, then regretted it.

  His eyes were open, his stare blank, lifeless. Fresh blood flowed from a wound on his head, down until it dripped onto his eyelashes, over the bridge of his nose, and across his cheek.

  I gaped in disbelief. It wasn’t real. None of this was real.

  The wind seemed to be dying down and I caught sight of Brooklyn. She’d tried to follow me and lay barely fifteen feet away. Lay. I watched, waiting for her to move. Her head rested on an arm. It was the exact same position she slept in. One arm below her head, her hand hanging over the side of the bed. I waited for her to wake as I’d done so many times before, but she didn’t move. The entire time I looked on, she didn’t move.

  Then I saw Cameron rush to her. He slid to a stop beside her, lifted her into his arms. Her limp body looked like a rag doll as he wrapped his arms around her. Brushed her hair out of her face.

  I turned and watched as one demon fell to Jared’s sword and another appeared. Jared had turned to search for me, and in a lightning quick move, the demon raked his claws across Jared’s back. He stumbled to his knees, fought for balance, and brought his sword up again. That was when I realized he was covered in blood. The rain was washing it off almost as fast as it flowed out of him. Another gust blocked my sight of him just as he prepared to attack.

  Farther south, Malak reappeared. He was fighting two more demons. The earth rumbled with another thunderous crash, but it wasn’t the fall of one of the demons. It was the fall of Malak. They’d downed him, this beast who’d switched sides. Who’d tried to protect me.

  I looked at Glitch’s hand beside me. It held the picture he’d been trying so desperately to get to me. I took it from his grasp but couldn’t make it out through the blur of tears and rain. The colors were running anyway, so I had no clue what the picture had captured. Why would a photograph be so damned important that he risked his life to get it? That he gave his life trying to get it back to me?