ARC: Crushed (24 page)

For all the things I have in common with Armand, this isn’t one of them. Sacrifice, loyalty, love are all emotions on a part of the spectrum his dark soul can’t reach.

I’m going to die, and yet I find I pity him.

“You can’t mean it. You’ll never make it,” he says, but it’s weak.

“I’m hurt, Armand,” I say. “I thought you’d have more faith in my abilities.”

“This isn’t funny,” he growls.

“You either laugh or you cry.”

“Then you ought to cry,” he snaps.

“I’m not the crying kind.” I tilt my head. “Are you?” My tone is cold. There’s a limit to the amount of histrionics I’m willing to tolerate.

He makes a noise of disgust.

“You don’t get to make my choices for me; you can only make your own. Are you going to help me, or not?” I say it hard, like I don’t care, but I definitely do. Without him, we’re doomed. Or rather, more doomed, if that’s even a thing.

He glares at me, and the thoughts fly behind his eyes. He’s not loyal to the demons, not in the same way I’m loyal to Jo or in the way that she’s loyal to the Crusaders. That involves an element of heart I’m not sure he has. But he is loyal to himself, and helping us is not exactly risk-free. If the demons ever find out he helped us, the repercussions would be deadly. It shouldn’t surprise me if he decided against it. He is a bad guy, after all.

And still I wait, holding his gaze, and wonder at the things I see there. The moment grows long, and the emotion hangs in the air like a fog.

Jo cuts through it with a sneer. “He won’t, Meda. What do you expect from a demon? He’s not your friend; he doesn’t even know the meaning of the word.”

But I raise a hand and silence her.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“A loyal demon? Who knew,” Jo jeers, and I want to hit her.

“No,” Armand’s voice lashes out. “It’s predictably selfish.”

“Yeah? What’s in it for you?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes are heavy on me.

Chapter 30

Jo can’t stand Armand, but she doesn’t trust him either, so we have to stay in the same room while we wait for Chi to arrive. Five. Long. Hours. The living room is filled with as much hate and as many barbs as one containing a teenager forced to endure a family night.

Armand keeps giving me Significant Looks and trying to talk to me alone, while Jo does her best to thwart him. I let her. She doesn’t trust him; I don’t trust myself.

Finally (finally!) the doorbell rings.

“Why don’t you get that?” Armand suggests slyly to Jo.

“Why don’t you?” Jo responds sweetly.

“You’d let me?”

“No.”

Oh, for freak’s sake. “I guess I’ll get it then.” Neither of them answer and I leave, muttering about idiots and bigger problems.

I check the peephole before pulling the door open. “Meda!” I’m yanked into a giant bear hug.

“Mmmoooff.”

“Where’s Jo?”

“Goooofmfi-key.” I shove the gorilla off. “Good to see you too Chi,” I say, but when he just looks at me expectantly, I jerk a thumb toward the room behind me. It occurs to me that this is probably the longest they’ve been apart since they started dating. Maybe the longest they’ve been apart ever.

He claps me on the shoulder and I lead him into the battleground.

The insults must have picked up again once the referee left, because they’re both on their feet when we enter, engaged in the world’s nastiest glaring contest. I make a note to see if the Guinness Book of World Records offers any prize money to its title-holders – I feel like we could have a contender.

When Jo doesn’t turn at our entrance Chi wraps his big arms around her from behind. The first time he did that she head-butted his nose and crunched his in-step before she realized who it was (which happened as he soared over her hip), but Chi’s persistent and fearless, so she’s used to it now and relaxes slightly against him. “Hi, Jo,” he says into her ear. She keeps her death-glare trained on Armand, but it’s ruined by the fact that the rest of her has gone limp.

Chi regards Armand, a little wrinkle on his forehead, then recognition dawns. “Armand,” he releases Jo with one arm and reaches around her to stick out a hand. “Good to see you again, man.”

“No, it’s not,” Jo says frostily.

She speaks too late and Armand is already shaking Chi’s hand with a sardonic smile.

Chi looks at Jo. “It’s not?”

“No.”

My sigh could blow a careless piggy’s house down. “Welcome to the party.”

“Meda,” Armand finally looks away from Jo. His eye-traps are in full effect. “Why don’t we give them some privacy, hmmmm? Jo can get Chi all caught up.” His eyes bore into mine.

Chi’s mid-agreement as Jo says, “Not a chance.”

“Err, ah,” I say, ever the clever conversationalist. “We should stay and, ah, help.” I drop onto the couch, as immovable as a boulder.

Armand sweeps in to sit next to me. “Coward,”
he murmurs, but it doesn’t bother me. Bravery has never struck me as a particularly desirable quality. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

He must have forgotten about my almost-certain imminent death. Just goes to show there’s a silver lining to everything.

Jo takes the lead explaining (as expected), while Armand offers unhelpful side commentary (also as expected). I manage not to bash either of their heads in (unexpected!).

Chi listens, digesting the information, and accepts our plan to use Armand’s information to invade the demon headquarters with the lack of panic of a true optimist. Brave and suicidal missions are sort of his thing.

By the time Jo wraps up, the sun’s starting to creep up the horizon. We all stand, and it’s decided (by Jo, again as expected), that she and I’ll take my room, while Chi bunks on the couch. Before we break, Chi gives Armand and me a
look
. “Hey guys, could we,” he nods towards Jo, “get a little alone time?”

“Happy to,” Armand responds instantly and tugs at my elbow. I throw on the brakes.

“
Chi
,” Jo hisses and gives a pointed look at the two of us. “We can’t leave them alone.” Yet even as she says it she sways towards him.

“Just a few minutes. Five… no ten…” He slides her a look. “Make that twenty minutes.” Then back up to me.

I don’t want to, but Chi has this entreating look, all big eyes and charming adorable-ness. I have no idea how Jo has held onto her reserve. I hear myself answering before I make the decision. “Fine.” Chi smiles like Christmas.

“Chi!” Jo tries again. “We can’t trust him with her!” If she didn’t want
him
and
her
to hear, she failed miserably.

“Jo – what do you think we’re going to do?” I ask. “Spiderman-climb down the side of the building?”

She gives me A Look. Fair enough, the idea does have potential.

I groan like a child. “I promise I won’t go anywhere. I’ll be right out here when you’re done.” She makes a face at the dirty way I said “done”, but doesn’t have time to push her argument before Armand sweeps me onto the balcony, sliding the door closed with a
schhht
.

I lean against the bannister. “Ahhh, nice and quiet out here.”

“Meda.”

“Hate to spoil it with a lot of talk. Silence is golden, or so they say–”

“Meda.”

“So how about you and me get rich?”

He snorts. “We need to talk.”

I accept the inevitable with ill-grace.

“How can you possibly think to go through with this? You have to join the demons.
Her
,”
he spits the word, as if it’s the nicest way he can force himself to address her, “plan is insane.”

“Because I love her,” I say simply.

He starts.

“You’re surprised? It’s sweet that you think I’m altruistic enough to risk my life because it’s the right thing to do, but I’m afraid I’m much more selfish than that.” I pause. “She’s my best friend.”

“So you think half-demons are capable of love?” he asks, expressionless. “Or even full demons for that matter?”

“A little, I think,” I answer thoughtfully. “But not like real people.”

“You loved your
maman
,
no?”

“Yeah,” I smile mirthlessly. “Right up until I ripped her open and ate her.” I catch his wince out of the corner of my eye. “My mom gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left. My ‘love’ was a pale reflection of hers; she blasted me with it and I sent her a fun-house mirrored version back. Same with Jo. She’s given up everything for me.” I shrug. “The least I can do is try and get it back.”

“And that’s not love?”

“Jo says love is about giving; that she gives everything she has to Chi, but she doesn’t miss it, because he’s giving everything he has to her. Demons, or halflings, could never love like that. We’re takers by nature.”

His voice is carefully bland. “Maybe the problem is that demons belong with demons. Because they’re
both
takers. One takes from the other but she doesn’t miss it because she’s taking just as much from him. Like children with straws in each other’s milkshakes.” He pauses. “They would be as sneaky and mean in love as they are in everything else; but they’d also both be full and happy.”

The air is heavy. I force a laugh to stir it up a bit. “I don’t think that’s love.”

He doesn’t return my laugh, but instead smiles wryly. When he speaks his characteristic lightness is back, though a little forced. “Sure it is. Why do you think it’s called ‘stealing a heart’?”

I snort. “Is that really what you called me out here for, Romeo? To talk about love and watch the sunrise?” I bat my eyes.

His mood sours. “I wish, but no.”

“Somehow I didn’t think so,” I say with a sigh.

He glowers. “Astute of you.”

I tip my head.

He launches in. “You can’t seriously be thinking of waltzing into the demon headquarters, can you?”

“It’s a good plan.”

“No, it’s a horrible plan.”

“Fine. How about, it’s the only plan?”

“It’s
not
.”

“Armand, I’m not going to join the demons. Not without at least trying to fix this. I’m a–”

“Good guy?” he smiles grimly.

“Yes,” I say firmly. “And Jo and Chi are traitors, thanks to me. They can never go back to the Crusaders. At least not without the map. What are they supposed to do?”

“I don’t
care
.” He slams his palms on the bannister. “Whatever normal people do. Grow old.” He laughs without humor. “Get fat. Have babies. Retire off their kids’ inevitable success as professional athletes.”

I’m horrified. “Just what kind of monster do you think I am? That I’d do
that
to the world?”

“What?”

I shudder. “Unleash Jo on it as a soccer mom.”

That forces a reluctant smile. “You’re right. That offends even my non-existent morals.” Then his smile dries up. “The point is, they’ll be fine. And you’ll be
alive
.”

“It always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it? Nag, nag, nag.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“It doesn’t suit you.”

“Aaaaaaaaarg.” He puts his head on the bannister and takes a minute before lifting it swiftly to look at me. “And what if they’re wrong?”

“Who’s wrong how?”

“What if the demons didn’t take the map?” he says each word carefully.

That has my attention.

“As you pointed out, the demons aren’t the only ones who want you dead.”

I cock my head. “Yes, but the Crusaders want me dead because I stole the Beacon Map. It doesn’t make sense for them to steal it.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asks, softly.

He waits, and I get it. Of course I do. Diabolical schemes are kinda my thing.

He keeps talking. “Some Crusaders have always wanted you dead, but they couldn’t get the others on their side. Not until the map disappeared.”

I close my eyes. It doesn’t keep the words out, but I don’t have ear-lids.

“How convenient for them. You’re found missing, the map’s gone, and they’re proven right – it was foolish to leave you alive.” His silky voice has a hard little edge. “There would have been a search of the school grounds. It would be an easy thing to find the map and not report it. Then, once you’re out of the picture, ‘Surprise! Look what I found!’”

I hate to admit it, but it makes sense. As much sense as the demons having it. Still, I shake my head.

“They’d do it, you know they would,” he pushes.

“Whoever found it knows I didn’t take it. They’d know I could have, but that I didn’t. That has to count for something.” Doesn’t it?

He hears my unasked question. “You tell me.”

There’s no way to know. So it comes down to this: faith. Faith that the Crusaders wouldn’t go that far, that they managed to find that slippery line between right and wrong. That their hate isn’t personal; that it is, in fact bigger than me.

And anyway, I don’t have any choice – there’s no way am I telling Jo I’m siding with Armand. As I said, bravery has never been my thing.

He sees the decision on my face. He curses and grips the railing and shoves against it hard enough for me to pull back from it – just in case. Then he bends over, putting his head to it and takes a few deep breaths. He stands back up. In a tone that’s half-anger, half-resignation and all sulk, he says, “Then I’m coming with you.”

I start. I’d expected him to share information, not to actually come with me. “It’s suicide.”

“Isn’t that my line?” he says with a twisted approximation of a smile. Then even that sad thing dies. “But you’re leaving me no choice.” He barks a laugh and slaps the bannister again, like he finds what he’s about to say is
that funny
. “Invade the Acheron.” He shakes his head. “You understand it’s a maze, right?
Literally
a maze. Where do you think your precious Crusaders got the idea?

“It’s called ‘the devil’s anthill’ – twisting hallways, tunnels, secret passages.” He barks another laugh. “Secret passages that are constantly changing, by the way, and walls designed to appear like they curve when you’re walking straight and vice versa. I can’t possibly teach you the layout. Jo and Chi may make it, since they’re going from point A to point B, but your options are limitless. And if–” I don’t miss the emphasis he puts on
if
“–you’re right and the demons have the beacon map, the only chance you have to survive is if you know it better than you know your own hand. It’s impossible.” Then he leans against the bannister, facing me. “Impossible, that is, without me.”

I don’t know what to say. I expect it from Jo. I accept it from her; her nature basically requires it. If I wasn’t involved at all, she would still do it, to save the Beacon Map from the demons.