Darklands (46 page)

Everyone knows that if you invite a vampire into your dwelling, nothing, not even a locked door, can keep that vampire out.

“‘There lies your way’? That sounds like Shakespeare.”

“
The Taming of the Shrew
. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t come inside. Tonight, it’s the taming of the Goon for me.” She winked and disappeared.

I went inside and closed the door. When the locks clicked back into place, it was like I’d never left.

AN HOUR LATER, I WAS LYING ON THE LUMPY PLAID SOFA reading a copy of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
that I’d found in the bookcase, hoping to pick up a couple of new Shakespeare quotes I could use in conversation with Juliet. A weird way to say thanks, but she’d love it. The going was slow, though, and my eyelids kept drooping.

A mosquito buzzed around my head. I waved it off, but it was back in a minute, whining in my ear. Wait—this was April. April is too early for mosquitoes.

“That better not be you, Butterfly.”

The whine turned into words. “Now, I could say how badly you screwed things up in the Darklands. Or I could say how disappointed your niece was when you blew off family day. But notice I’m not saying those things. So don’t kill me. Like, I might add, you tried to do very brutally on top of that mountain.”

“Go away.” I put the book over my face.

“Wow, what a welcome. And when I’m here to keep a promise.”

“What promise?”

“News from the demon plane. Boy, do you have a short memory. But never mind. I’ll go. I’m sure you’re not interested in knowing what happened after the Hellion and the demi-demon went over that cliff.”

I sat up. The book dropped in my lap. “Tell me.”

“Oh,
now
she wants to know. Well, maybe I don’t want to tell you anymore. Not after you hurt my feelings.”

“You’re not making me feel guilty, Butterfly. Just annoyed.”

“I don’t like annoyance. Tastes bitter.” That annoyed me even more. “Okay, okay. They both survived. Winked out halfway to the ground, then winked back in elsewhere in Uffern. Magic—the demi-demon’s got a wizard who’s helping him.” So Mab was right about Myrddin. “But they’re not exactly getting along,” Butterfly continued. “They’re fighting each other for control. Difethwr is powerful, even more than before, and it doesn’t like being bound, but the demi-demon has the wizard on his side. It’s a toss-up who’ll win.”

Neither, I hoped. Best-case scenario: They’d both perish in a battle to their mutual deaths. I knew the worst-case scenario, that they’d start cooperating and Pryce would push forward with his goal of expanding Hell, was far more likely. But with the Destroyer’s rage and Pryce’s arrogance, cooperation wouldn’t happen any time soon.

Mab was right that time was short, but it hadn’t run out yet. A small blessing, but I’d take it.

“Thanks, Butterfly.” I couldn’t believe I was saying thank you to a guilt-demon.

“
No problemo.
See you around.”

“Don’t count on it!” But the demon had gone. Really gone, it seemed, from the lack of gnawing in my gut. Make that two small blessings.

I gave up on Shakespeare and went to bed. Usually I was awake at this time of night, but my trip to the Darklands had thrown me off schedule. Otherworldly jet lag.

Clearing my mind, I let myself drift off. Butterfly stayed away. Either Tina’s trick had finally worked, or else the rage and violence I’d felt on that mountaintop had been too much for it.
Hah.
There was a new trick for Tina: Get rid of your demons by scaring them away. I’d have to tell her about that one. I let the thought fade and settled into sleep.

In my dreamscape, I drifted through a blue sky, riding on a fluffy pink cloud. Wait—pink cloud? Not exactly typical in my dreamscape. Then I recognized the colors: Pink and blue meant Maria. My niece was calling me on the dream phone.

I imagined her sitting beside me on the cloud, her legs folded, her pale blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. A minute later, there she was.

“Sorry about missing family day,” I said.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Aunt Mab called. She said you couldn’t make it.”

Mab had called Maria on the dream phone? Gwen would freak. Thanks to the old enmity between her and Mab, she’d forbidden contact. “You know you’re only allowed to talk to your mom and me on the dream phone.”

“Grandma, too. Mom said.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, Aunt Mab didn’t call on the dream phone. She called on the
phone
phone. Grandma talked to her. She told us you were sick and couldn’t go out. Are you feeling better?”

Mab must have gone into the village to call from the phone at the pub. And I’d thought she didn’t pay attention to things like family day.

“I’m fine. I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

“Good, because we decided to wait on family day until next Saturday so you could be there.”

“Really?” The lump in my throat surprised me.

Another shrug. “It wouldn’t be any fun without you.”

It took a minute to get the lump down to a manageable size. “So how are things going?” I asked.

“Okay. Mom and I aren’t fighting as much. And I like having
Grandma here. But I miss you.” Her smile was almost shy. “You really think you can come this weekend?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool. I won’t make you promise this time, ’cause I know that sometimes, you know, things happen.”

“Yes, things do happen.” And all you could do was try and be ready for them.

Maria yawned, and I suggested she get some rest. The same thing Mab had said to me. For some reason, that made me smile.

THE WORST THING ABOUT QUARANTINE WAS THE BOREDOM. One day blurred into the next as I slept, read, and ate food out of cans. Over and over I did those things, all the while trying not to think about Kane.

I wasn’t very good at that last part—not thinking about him.

All day long, I imagined where he was and what he was doing. I didn’t understand the details of his work as a lawyer, but I could picture him in his office, surrounded by books and papers, or standing in the hallway talking to Iris or one of the younger partners. I could see him sitting in his favorite lunch spot, hamburger in hand, eyes on his laptop screen. I knew so well how he looked sitting on his sofa, holding the remote, loosening his tie by maybe half an inch as he watched the news. How he slept on his right side, face pressed into the pillow.

And I could see him as a wolf—graceful, strong, majestic. His fur silver, his alert gray eyes glowing like moonlight.

So many times, he’d come for me. He’d traveled to Wales to tell me I was important to him. He’d gone up against Myrddin to save me. He’d attacked the Destroyer when I couldn’t raise my sword. And he’d traded his freedom for the chance to bring me back from the dead.

Mallt-y-Nos would try to break him. He’d resist—of course he would—but all that burning pain, all the humiliation and bending to a hostile will—it would take a terrible toll. What would he lose? His confidence? His easy smile? His belief in justice and higher ideals?

I didn’t want him to lose
anything
.

And so the days passed, and Kane was always in my thoughts. The Kane I’d had. The Kane I’d lost. And the giant question mark of what he would become.

*   *   *

THE SUN HAD BARELY SET ON MY LAST NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE when I heard a howling in the distance. I looked up from my book. Wolves? I listened. No, not wolves. Baying hounds.

Two minutes later, when the fiery steed of Mallt-y-Nos burst through the wall, I stood in a hastily-made sphere of magical protection, ready to confront her.

Hellhounds surged into the room. They snapped and lunged, held back by the magic. I counted them. Six. Kane wasn’t part of the pack. Of course he wasn’t—the next full moon was three weeks away.

The horse pawed the floor, its iron hooves striking sparks. A skull peered around its neck. Mallt-y-Nos pointed a bony finger at me. As her youth returned, her face twisted in fury.

“I will not be cheated!” she shrieked. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It took an effort to keep my voice steady as I looked into her shifting, terrifying face.

“My falcon! It’s gone.”

“I don’t have it.” But inwardly I cheered the falcon’s escape. I’d rather picture it soaring over Hellsmoor than kept captive by this hag. “Maybe it’s returned to the Darklands, back to its nest.”

“No! I’d know if it crossed the border.” Her middle-aged face frowned. “The bird flew to you before—it alighted on your arm. It’s come back to you now.”

“Look around,” I said. “You won’t find it here.”

At their hag’s command, the hounds tore through the cottage. On the hunt, they sniffed and searched everywhere. It didn’t take long. The cottage was small, and I hadn’t seen the falcon since I left the Darklands. The hounds returned to their mistress, heads low with shame at their failure, and cringed at her feet. She waved a hand and they yelped in pain.

Sick at heart, I looked away.

“I will make you a deal,” said Mallt-y-Nos, squinting at me through aged, cloudy eyes.

“I don’t think so. Our last deal didn’t work out so well.”

“Bring me the falcon, and I will release the werewolf from his servitude.”

My heartbeat sped up. “You won’t force Kane to be a hellhound?”

“Not if you return the falcon to me. Alive.”

I watched her face as it moved through death and back to youth. I had no clue where the falcon could be, but maybe I could locate it. Maybe it would come back to me, as the hag assumed. Still, something about this deal—something beyond the fact that the Night Hag was proposing it—felt wrong to me. My gut didn’t like it.

Then I remembered. Mab said the white falcon was mentioned in the prophecies. Whatever was coming in the battle with Pryce and his demons, the falcon was involved. As much as I wanted Kane’s freedom, I could not risk interfering with destiny. I would not trade away the lives of millions of people. Kane wouldn’t want me to.

Slowly, I shook my head. “The falcon is not mine to give you.”

The Night Hag screamed with rage. Her horse reared, her hellhounds cowered. When she spoke, it was from the blank face of a skull with fire burning in its eye sockets.

“Know this, Victory Vaughn. I am on the hunt for you. I and
all
my hounds. We will not rest until we run you down. Beware the next full moon.”

She wheeled her horse around and left the way she came. Her hounds followed. And then I was alone in an empty room.

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON THE GOONS HAD A FEW QUESTIONS before they let me out of quarantine. The big one: Pryce’s body had disappeared—did I know anything about it? Sure. His connection with the Destroyer had allowed him to travel into the demon plane, but how could I explain that? Instead, I reminded them I’d been in quarantine for a week and didn’t know a thing beyond the triple-locked door of this cabin.

We went over my official cover story what felt like a million times: I’d hit my head in a fall, been in the hospital as Jane Doe for a week, and had regained consciousness this morning. The hospital in question had all the records, as well as staff who’d swear I’d been there. Reminding me of the dire penalties I faced if I told anyone the truth about Pryce’s plague attack—penalties like disappearing into Goon Squad custody for a whole hell of a lot longer than a week—they finally let me go.

They’d brought the Jag for me and parked it out front. When I walked through the gate, a man leaned on my car. Kane.

I didn’t run to him. He didn’t throw open his arms. He stood there with his arms folded, looking…haunted. But he’d come.

Looking around the parking lot, I didn’t see his car. “How did you get here?” So many questions tumbling through my mind, so many things I wanted to say, and that’s what came out of my mouth.

“Taxi,” he said, then shrugged like a sixty-mile cab ride from Boston to the middle of nowhere was something he did every day. “Juliet told me you’d be getting out today. And I thought…” His voice trailed off, and a pained look flickered behind his eyes. “I thought I’d like to be here, maybe keep you company on the ride back to town. That okay?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We rode in silence. More than once I started to speak, but it felt like talking would break something fragile. He reached over and laid his hand on my leg. I covered it with my own. For the moment, it was enough to have him beside me.

It was getting dark as we passed through the checkpoints into Deadtown. Zombies were beginning to venture out for the night. I pulled over in front of Kane’s building and cut the engine. He put his hand on the door handle but didn’t open it.

“I resigned from Simone’s campaign,” he said. “It’s going to be a tough year.”

I nodded. I wanted to tell him I knew how much of a sacrifice he’d made for me, but I couldn’t find the words.

The silence stretched.

“Vicky, what I said on top of that mountain—”

“Don’t.” I wanted to spare him the awkwardness of taking it back. “It’s all right.”

His eyes sparked. “No, it’s not. And I’m not going to leave this unsaid. I meant it, Vicky. I meant it then and I mean it now. There will be times when you don’t believe that—when you
can’t
believe that—but I swear it’s the truth.” He got out of the car and closed the door. He strode up the steps, but before he made it to the front door, I was out of the car and running up beside him.

“Kane.”

He turned around. His eyes held pain and misery and more suffering than I could bear to see. But there was something else there, too. Love. After he’d seen the Destroyer in me, after he’d endured the anguish of running with the Night Hag, he still loved me.

Of all the times he’d come for me—running into danger, crossing the ocean or between the worlds—the short trip to Princeton and back meant the most.

“I…I feel the same way,” I said, and the love in his eyes grew stronger than the pain. “Whatever happens.”

We met in a kiss that said everything we’d struggled to express. And more, far more.

Kane was right. It was going to be a tough year. But we’d get through it. When the Night Hag tried to break him, I’d build him up again. Whatever happened. Because Kane was right about something else, too. Together, we were unbeatable.