Darklands (45 page)

A bony finger poked my arm, and I looked into the face of death. “I hope you have something for me,” the voice of Mallt-y-Nos spoke from the bare skull. “Our bargain has rewarded me poorly so far.”

“You got what you asked for.”

“I didn’t ask for a broken arrow. I didn’t ask for a third-rate hunting horn.” The young woman pouted. “Still, if you’ve brought me the white falcon, I’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.”

Without a word, I pulled the feather from my tunic and held it out to her.

“That’s all?” Mallt-y-Nos knocked the feather from my hand. The hounds shifted, tense. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I can make you a better offer.” I’d thought about this on the ride here.

Mallt-y-Nos was middle-aged again. She cocked her head. “What?” The question held guarded interest.

“Let me pass, and I’ll take Kane’s place among your hellhounds.”

“Pfft.” She batted my suggestion away. “A substitution of one for another gains me nothing.”

“Then grant me the same terms you granted him—I’ll join your pack for a year and a day.”

The crone scowled. “I have enough hounds. I want a falcon.”

“The falcon is dead. I can’t help that. But if you let me cross the border, I’ll…I’ll owe you a favor. I’ll be in your debt.” An open-ended obligation on the hag’s own terms—a terrible idea, but my very last resort.

“You’re in my debt now, and you cannot pay. I’ll not extend bad credit.” She was silent as her appearance passed from old woman to corpse to skeleton. When she was young and beautiful again, she turned to the guards, smiling flirtatiously. “There’s no sense in delaying the execution. Without the falcon, I’ll never allow her to cross.” She tossed back her hair and smoothed her hands along her sides. The guards watched with interest. “Let me kill her now. I’ll have my hounds tear her to pieces. You’ll find it good sport, I’m certain.”

The hounds growled and lifted their heads, sniffing in my direction. Kane was among them. If the Night Hag gave the order, he’d have to obey. Would he understand what he was doing? Would he remember? The thought hurt worse than fangs and flames ever could.

The former Magic Keeper shook his head. “Arawn’s orders were clear. She has one day.”

The hag pouted again. “But one day will spoil my fun. Now, her lover is among my hounds. Tomorrow, the full moon will have passed and he’ll leave my pack for a month.”

“That’s not my concern.”

Mallt-y-Nos batted her eyelashes, but she was aging now and her attempts at persuasion were losing their power. Her voice went from sexy to shrill. “She’s in default. I will have satisfaction!”

As they argued, a piercing cry sounded overhead. We all looked up. A large white bird circled in the sky.

“My falcon!” Mallt-y-Nos exclaimed. She squinted at me accusingly. “You said it was dead.”

“I— Maybe I was wrong.” But I’d watched it fall. I’d picked up the feather, seen the blood in the water. How had it sur-vived?

The falcon circled downward, drifting near us. The aged Night Hag reached for it with gnarled hands, but it evaded her grasp and flew to me. I held out my arm, and the falcon landed on it. Its talons gripped me, but gently. The Night Hag watched it greedily.

“You said if I give you this falcon, you’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.”

She stretched out a hand, then hesitated. “How do I know it’s the right one?”

“There’s only one white falcon in the Darklands,” said a guard. The others nodded in agreement.

Mallt-y-Nos bit her lip. As her face passed through death and back to youth, she stared at the bird.

“In front of these witnesses,” I said, “will you let me cross the border if I give you this falcon?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Before I could move, the falcon hopped from my arm to the hag’s shoulder. She quickly looped a leather thong around its leg. “Go, go.” She waved toward the woods. “You may pass.”

The hounds growled as I stepped forward, but they didn’t move to stop me. I took one last look at the pack. Seven pairs of glowing, hostile eyes watched me. I searched them all, but I didn’t see any trace of Kane. He was utterly changed, trapped inside his hellish form.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hoping he’d understand. Then I walked forward without looking back.

THE FOREST AROUND ME DISSOLVED INTO DARKNESS. I HEARD the sighs and whispers of souls passing overhead. Instead of moving with them, I walked away from the light. This time there were no trees or roots to trip me. I walked confidently, until the blackness around me turned to gray, until a beam of silver moonlight struck my face. I blinked. I stood at the bottom of Purgatory Chasm, in front of the Devil’s Coffin.

The night was cold and damp. I didn’t have a coat—just gray sweats marked with large, red Qs. Damn. I was still under quarantine. And I was about twenty-five miles away from the quarantine site. If I wasn’t there when the authorities came to let me out, I’d have some explaining to do. Probably from solitary confinement.

I had to get back to the Princeton retreat. I glanced up at the sky. I wouldn’t go back tonight. You’d have to be insane to try to sneak into a werewolf enclosure during the full moon.

I wasn’t crazy. I was cold. And hungry.

Purgatory Chasm was closed to the public—that chemical spill story. No one would come here for several days. I’d stay here tonight, then figure out how to get back to Princeton tomorrow.

Glad for the bright moonlight that lit the way, I climbed out of the chasm. I broke into the ranger station and turned on the heat, then rummaged through the staff kitchen and found some stale cookies and a peanut butter sandwich. I was pretty sure peanut butter doesn’t go bad, so I ate it. I drank about a gallon of water, then lay down on a sofa to sleep.

I hadn’t slept since Rhudda’s castle.

Right before I drifted off, I thought I heard galloping hooves. Dogs baying. An old woman’s cackle. And above it all, the high, thin cry of a falcon.

“VICTORY? VICTORY, ARE YOU THERE, CHILD?”

I heard Mab’s voice even before I saw the blue-and-silver swirls that meant she was calling me. They billowed up now in my dreamscape.

“I’m here.”

Mab didn’t wait for me to picture her. She stepped out of the mist, waving it away with both hands. “Thank all the heavens,” she said, a hand on her heart. “You didn’t answer when I tried to contact you last night. But that’s not what concerned me. I couldn’t feel you at all. You were
absent
.” She peered at me, as though making sure I was really there. “You went to the Darklands, didn’t you?”

“They’ll have to change that ‘Spoils of Annwn’ poem now: Except for
eight
, none returned.” Nine, if you counted Kane. But after being a hellhound, would the man who returned be recognizable as Kane?

“You’ve nothing to boast about, child. It was a foolish, dangerous thing to do.” Mab tried to set her features in her stern look, but relief washed the sternness away. “Tell me what happened.”

“I saw Dad. He was hiding out to avoid reincarnation.” The word
reincarnation
sat like a stone on my heart.

Mab smiled. “That does sound like Evan. But start at the beginning, child. How did you cross the border?”

No printing out images and dropping them into my subconscious this time. I didn’t want to relive it all. So I told her the story, starting with Mallt-y-Nos and the bargain we’d made. Mab pulled a chair out of the mist and sat down, leaning toward me as she listened.

“You didn’t see Pryce and the Destroyer fall all the way to the ground?” she asked, when I got to that part.

“They disappeared in midair. What do you think happened?”

“Myrddin somehow took control. That would be my best guess. His magic is strongest in the demon plane.” Through her blouse, she clasped her bloodstone pendant. “Myrddin, Pryce, and the Destroyer as a single entity will be a powerful enemy—unless they tear each other apart.”

“We can always hope.” Not an approach that ever seemed to do much for me.

“We can do more than that, child, and most likely we shall have to. Now, tell me the rest. How did you manage to fulfill your bargain with Mallt-y-Nos?”

“Arawn gave her the broken arrow and a spare hunting horn, not the one he uses for the wild hunt. Because of the bargain’s
wording, she had to take them. All I had of the falcon was a white feather. I thought the bird was dead, but it flew in as I was trying to talk Mallt-y-Nos into letting me back into the Ordinary. Some coincidence, huh?”

“Not a coincidence, I think. A white falcon appears in the prophecies.” She passed a hand across her brow. “Time grows short, child. You must return to your studies of
The Book of Utter Darkness
at once.”

“It’ll be a few days. I have to go back into quarantine. If I’m not in that cabin when they come to let me out, the Goons will be knocking on my door within the hour.”

“As soon as you can, then. The book may be ready to show us new things.”

“I’m not sure I want to see them.” Not after what it had showed us last time.

She nodded, shuddering. “I’m afraid you must, though. That vision we both saw—remember, it is not carved in stone. Pryce hasn’t won yet.”

And neither had we. I’d never felt so far from winning in my life. I’d never felt so strongly that “Victory” was just a name. “Mab?”

“Yes, child?

“A while back, you said you wondered if you were right about me. What did you mean?”

“I said that? I’m sure I don’t recall now.” She brought up her colors, preparing to go. “Put it from your thoughts, child. You need rest after the journey you’ve had.”

She was right. Already my mind was reaching for sleep again.

“And Victory…” Did she add a slight emphasis to my name? I was too tired to know for sure. “I’m glad you’re one of the few who returned.”

BY MORNING, I HAD MY PLAN. I USED THE RANGERS’ COMPUTER to email Juliet: Do you know a vampire who can drive? I need a ride from Sutton to Princeton tonight.

While I waited for her reply, I checked the headlines (nothing about plague virus) and played about two dozen games of Solitaire. It was the only game on the computer.

Juliet was still up. Her email came back: Yes. What trouble are you in now? Don’t tell me in an email, but I’ll want all the details later. Where, exactly, do you need to be picked up, and at what time?

Once all the arrangements were made, I thought about sending a quick email to Gwen, explaining about family day. But it was too risky. Gwen’s nice, normal family didn’t need to get tangled up in my problems. I cleared the Web browser’s history. I turned off the computer and went to the kitchen to finish off the stale cookies. Then I waited for nightfall.

WHEN THE HUGE BLACK PICKUP TRUCK SKIDDED TO A STOP at the meeting point, I waited for the tinted window to roll down
before I stepped out of the woods. When it did, I was astonished to see Juliet’s face peering out at me.

“Surprise!” She grinned, fangs gleaming.

“Juliet, you don’t know how to drive.”

“I’m a fast learner. Honestly, it’s not as hard as it looks.” The truck lurched forward. “Oops.”

“Put it in Park. I’ll drive.”

“Put it in what?”

I stepped up on the running board, reached through the window, and shifted to Park.

“Now it won’t roll.”

Juliet stared at me. “Did you know your sweats are inside out?”

“That’s to hide the big, red Qs on them.”

“Oh, you
do
have a story.” She grinned again. “Me, too.”

She slid over to the passenger’s side, and I got in. We settled into our seats, and then I pulled into the street. “You first. How did you get out of our apartment?”

Juliet leaned back in her seat and waved her leg in the air. “Look! No ankle bracelet! I’m a free woman.” She sat forward again. “Thanks to an eyewitness to that judge’s murder. The guy recorded the whole thing on his cell phone. It’s taken him this long to get the courage to come forward.”

I couldn’t blame him. Seeing an Old One rip someone’s throat out would make most people think twice.

“All charges against me have been dropped. I’m still helping with the interrogation, but they’re paying me, not coercing me. And I’m dating that cute Goon, Brad. This is his truck.”

“Nice.” I was glad the last couple of days had been good to somebody. And maybe now the constant delivery of “as seen on TV” products would stop.

“Your turn,” Juliet said. “Why are you wearing an inside-out fashion disaster and driving me to Princeton the night after all the werewolves have left?”

Her question reminded me I’d missed family day, and for a moment I wished I’d risked getting a message to Gwen. Too late now. I’d try to make it up to Maria when I got out of quarantine—if anyone in my family was still speaking to me.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “Remember that Harpy attack? Well, Pryce really was trying to kill me…”
Here we go again,
I
thought. It took the entire drive to Princeton for me to explain everything that happened.

WHEN THE WOLVES LEAVE A RETREAT, SO DO THE GUARDS. Most of them, anyway. They keep a skeleton staff on hand to prevent teenagers and thrill-seekers from sneaking in. But Juliet and I had no trouble getting inside. I climbed onto her back, closed my eyes, and got a super-vampire-speed piggyback ride through the front gate and to the door of the quarantine cottage. The guard may have felt a breeze as we went by, but he never saw us.

The tricky part, and the reason I needed a vampire, was getting into the locked cottage. We stood in front of it now, inspecting the door. It was secured by three deadbolts, each with a different key. I’d watched from the helicopter as three Goons stepped forward, each opening one lock. The keys belonged to the authorities who’d stuck me here—I doubted they kept duplicates at the retreat.

“So,” I said, putting a hand on the door, “this is my temporary home, and I’d like to invite you inside.”

Juliet grinned. Her fangs glowed a little in the moonlight. She pointed at the locks—one, two, three—and each clicked open.

“The door is open,” she said, bowing low with a flourish. “There lies your way.”