Hollows 11 - Ever After (42 page)

“Even to save their lives?” Without another word, he strode into the brightly lit sanctuary.

Stupid-ass elves . . .
I followed, my stomach churning. This wasn’t right, and I felt torn as I stood at the top of the hall and looked over the sanctuary with Ivy’s piano, my desk, Kisten’s pool table, and the cluster of furniture. Quen was already there among them, looking as if nothing was amiss and he wasn’t about to charm them all into forgetfulness. Nick was still sitting in his chair, watching Ivy at the front door taking the pizza and paying the man. Pixies were everywhere, the colored silk and bright voices filling the air. Jax was sitting on the coffee table with Belle, but it looked as if she was talking, not guarding him. There was a cheer when the church door shut out the cold, and Ivy came back to drop the pizza on the coffee table right in front of Nick.
Don’t eat the pizza.

Panicked, I met Ivy’s eyes, and she hesitated, eyebrows high. Nick gagged, and the pixies descended, working together to get the box open before diving in to snitch the steaming pineapple. I felt alone and apart in the hallway, unable to shake the feeling that it was just another Thursday night. Pizza, movie, and shocking the token human by eating tomatoes.

Slice of pizza in hand, Ivy eased closer, the diverse but weirdly complementary scents of vampire and pizza flowing over me. “Remember this,” she said, smiling sadly as she looked at the chaos.

I couldn’t take my eyes from her pizza, torn. “Because it won’t ever come again,” I finished, guilt tugging at me. I was not going to lie to her. “Don’t eat the pizza.”

She hesitated. Jenks was watching us, and I made a small finger motion as he oversaw his kids fighting over the crust to get the one with the most sauce. Wings humming, his dust shifted to a brilliant yellow.

“What does everyone want to drink?” I said softly, turning on a heel to vanish into the kitchen. Quen’s eyes bore into my back. He couldn’t have possibly heard me warn Ivy, but he wasn’t oblivious to her alertness, either. My heart pounded. I didn’t want my friends dead, but I wouldn’t lie to them. Ivy would follow. We could talk in the kitchen. The truth was going to hurt, but a lie would be worse.

“Ivy, can I speak to you and Jenks for a moment?” Quen said, and my pace faltered.

Maybe not . . .

“They’re helping me with the drinks,” I shouted. “Quen, watch Nick, will you?”

My heart thudded as I walked from the noisy throng, but the kitchen was welcomingly cool, and I put a hand to my face, not sure what I was going to say as they followed me in, clearly curious. Frustrated, I turned my back on the small window over the sink.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with the Turn-blasted pizza?” Jenks said, an unsure green dust sifting from him like an underwater sunbeam. “I’m starving here!”

I thought about what Quen said, and then how they trusted me, not just to have their back, but to not stab them in it, either. “Quen . . .” I started, then threw my hands up, my heart thudding. “He charmed it. I don’t want you coming with Quen and me tonight.
Either of you.
Okay?”

“Oh, but elf boy out there is good enough, huh?” Jenks said, his voice virulent.

He was dusting a silver green I’d never seen before, and I came forward, pleading with my eyes. “Jenks, we both know it’s too cold for you. Ivy, as much as I want you there—”

She shook her head, feeling her throat as if remembering how easily Newt had pinned her. “I’m not any help, am I?”

It really wasn’t a question, and I felt awful. “You are,” I pleaded. “Just . . .”

“Just not tonight,” she finished. “It’s okay,” she said around a sigh, her gaze distant, as if looking at the future. I couldn’t tell if she saw me there or not.

“It’s not okay,” I said softly. “It stinks.” Jenks was dusting a sour green in the corner, as far from me as he could get. He looked capable and ready, but I knew he would freeze tonight, and so did he. “This isn’t what I wanted,” I whispered, and his dust flashed silver, even as he refused to look at me.

“But this is where you are,” Ivy said, and my shoulders eased. “Go with Quen. I’ll watch Nick. All of us will,” she said, her voice hard with warning and Jenks clattered his wings at her. “He’ll be here when you get back, dead or alive.”

I was smiling, though something was dying in me. “You guys are too good to me.”

“Only because you made me so,” Ivy said, her eyes glinting with unshed tears.

The weirdest feeling of anticipation filled me, seeing them both there in my kitchen, willing to let me go, knowing that I could do this, and trusting me. “Oh my God,” I said, eyes swimming. “You are going to make me cry!” I sniffed, then moved about the kitchen, gathering everything up that I wanted to take—magnetic chalk, pain charms—it wasn’t much, and I stifled a swift pang of worry. I snatched my cell phone at the last moment, tucking it in a back pocket after making sure it was on vibrate.

“Ivy!” Quen shouted from the living room. “Get back out here and watch Nick, or I’m going to kill him myself!”

I smiled, giving Ivy a hug as Jenks hovered over both of us. “When I get back, we are all going to go out and do some serious vigilante work.”

“Ivy!” Quen bellowed. “I’m counting to three!” He couldn’t leave Nick, and he didn’t want to trust himself to bring him back to the kitchen.

“Thanks. For everything,” I said, and Ivy touched my arm before she turned and left the room. My smile slowly faded as I looked at Jenks, who was dripping an angry dust. It still felt like good-bye, but that was okay now.

“See you at sunrise,” he said, then turned, almost flying into Quen, the elf irate stomping into the kitchen.

The two of us alone, Quen stared at me, and I shrugged. “I’m not going to lie to them,” I said, and his eyes narrowed.

“They’ll follow us,” he started, and I shook my head, not looking down the hallway to the bright sanctuary as I patted my pocket to be sure I had the rings and went into the back living room for my coat, hesitating until I remembered I had left it on the porch to air out.

“No, they won’t,” I said over my shoulder, feeling almost relaxed. Ivy and Jenks would wait for me. I wasn’t losing them at all. “You’re just mad that you don’t have an excuse to do your charm.”

“A little, yes,” he complained as he followed me out. “Did something happen to the sanctity of your church again?”

My eye twitched. “Newt broke it so she could look in my closet.”
Again.

“Oh.”

The night air was almost a slap as I opened the door, the soft breathing of the wind taking me by surprise. My coat was frigid as I jammed my arms into the sleeves, and Quen watched as I shoved everything but my chalk into a pocket. “No splat gun?”

Snapping the chalk in two, I wedged a piece into each boot. “He can burst the charms in the hopper and put me out in three seconds,” I said, having downed Lee that way once—before we had come to an understanding. “It’s your elven charms that are going to hold him, sweetheart. You up to it?”

“Sweetheart?” he muttered, and I turned to the graveyard with its glowing gargoyle eyes. Feeling good for some reason, I started down the stairs, boots clumping until I realized he wasn’t following me. I frowned when he took a small, hourglass-shaped charm from his pocket and hung it on the nail the Christmas wreath had rested on. It was the first level of protection every home, be it Inderland or human, had, but we didn’t have one up right now.

“Hey!” I exclaimed when he pulled the pin from the intricately detailed charm made to look like a wineglass pouring into another, and a shimmering wave of gold and black rose. Great leathery wings opened in the graveyard, and I shivered, thinking that it was like the demons of hell had come to life and were here to drag me to eternal torture for betraying my friends.

“You didn’t lie to them,” Quen said as I fumed. “I’m not going to risk Nick escaping.”

My protest faded, and I almost fell off the step trying to see up to the top of the churchwide spell. “How long?” I said, my face cold, and he took my arm and turned me around.

“Sunup. Now: I’m doing this to save Trent. You’re doing this to save the world. Yes?”

Sunup. If I didn’t have this done by then, it wouldn’t matter. Nervous, I stuck out my hand, wishing I had my other coat. This one completely ruined the sophisticated air I’d been going for, but it was hard to sling spells when your muscles were stiff with cold. “Deal.”

We shook, and then together we went down the stairs to go around the front for his car. A hulking shape waited just inside the gate, and I gasped, almost running into a gargoyle. “Etude!” I said, flushing. It was obvious we had spelled the church.

“And you wonder why I refused to rest on your church,” the gargoyle said, his voice incredibly low but holding a hint of amusement.

“Ah . . .” I stammered. “We, ah, need to get to Loveland Castle,” I said, looking behind him at the rows of red and yellow eyes. “Are we too heavy for you, by chance?”

Etude grinned, and I shivered at the long black canines. “No. I don’t think you are.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I
f a horse could jump and never land, it might come close to the feeling of flying atop a gargoyle. My knees hitched over the base of Etude’s wings, and I crouched low, the wind beating at me so hard my eyes were mere slits. Glory sang through me, the chill air streaming through my hair in a rushing sensation of silk. It almost felt as if I had wings myself, reading the air currents and leaning with Etude to take advantage of the rising air above massive parking lots and the ribbon of the expressway we now flew over.

My stomach lurched as Etude beat his wings in three quick successive beats, and my legs tightened around him, making him flick his ears back to ensure I was still seated firmly. We’d had some trouble gaining altitude without the usual drop from a church tower that gargoyles were used to, but Etude had managed.

Closing my eyes, I leaned forward until I was almost lying atop him, the wind tearing over my back and my head surprisingly close to his ears. Etude banked suddenly, and my arms sprang around his thick neck. His entire body shook with laughter, but I didn’t care. This was beyond description. To fly between the dark earth and the black sky when the waning moon rose was surely the pinnacle of existence: the power, the strength, the unsurpassed beauty. If riding a horse was freedom, this was heaven on earth.

If I survive this, I’m going to mend Belle’s wings,
I thought, exhaling as Etude shifted and we again came in line with the gargoyle who was carrying Quen. To have had this and lose it would break me. Fairies were made of sterner stuff than I.

Still holding that thought in my mind, I rested my head against Etude’s warm neck. Quen looked tense, his brow furrowed as he sat almost upright against the wind atop the equally large gargoyle who had agreed to take him. He was riding him like a horse, probably with a much better seat than I had but creating far more drag.

Quen smiled grimly as I caught his eye. Etude’s ear flicked back, changing the air currents racing over me, and my grip loosened when the gargoyle leveled his flight. I looked down to the ribbon of lights on the expressway. Traffic was heavy this time of night. “Do you always follow the expressways?” I called out to Etude, his tufted ears turning to catch my words.

“No.” He swiveled his head without changing his flight, one red eye finding me, his deep words seeming to reach me despite the wind ripping past us. “We fly as the arrow, but I’m not sure where Loveland Castle is. Normally I’d follow the resonance of the line there, but it’s so discordant right now, it’s hard to locate. I had one of the kids at the basilica look up directions online for me.”

“Sorry,” I said, then grimaced, thinking I needed to stop saying that.

A lumpy shape loomed out of the thin moonlight and dark trees, a ribbon of light trailing beside it where the river was. “There!” I said pointing, and Etude nodded, his ears going flat to his skull when he shifted smoothly to put it directly ahead. The second gargoyle grimaced, looking pained as his wing beats became short and choppy. I couldn’t feel the line yet, but clearly they could.

Sorry,
I thought, then quashed it.

The river-damp air was cool, and we lost altitude when we left the warm ribbon of the expressway. We circled in the faint starlight. The castle was dark and empty, and the memory of burning into reality here burst against my thoughts with a hint of easily mastered panic. I’d been trying to keep Al from abducting a coven member. That hadn’t turned out so well, either.

“Circle once!” Quen shouted, letting go of the gargoyle’s shoulder long enough to make a circular motion with his finger. “I’ll see if there’s any magic down there apart from the line!”

Guilt hit me square on, and I looked down with my second sight. Sure, Quen had a stake in this, but he also had a little girl.
And a dead love to revenge,
I added, resolving to let it go. It would be my strength and his skill that would win or lose it.

My skin prickled at a wave of wild magic, and Etude shuddered, his skin rippling to make me clutch at him. “We’re clear!” Quen shouted over the wind. “There’s no one down there!”

The gargoyles shifted their wings simultaneously, their quick descent making my eyes widen. My arms went around Etude’s neck, and I tried to make his center of gravity as near to normal as possible. His balance shifted, and I gasped as his wings made several strong back beats and he landed. Quen touched the ground an instant later. We were right on the gravelly garden path, or at least I was. Quen was about three feet up past the retaining wall, on the upper garden level.

“That line is ungodly awful,” Etude said as I slid off his back, my knees rubbery. The air felt very still after the chill wind of flight, and I followed Etude’s pained gaze to my line. That purple sludge was still there, almost glowing in the dark.

“Thank you for getting us here,” I said, wiggling my toes to make sure I hadn’t lost my magnetic chalk. Quen’s gargoyle, looking beaten, was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, his ears pinned back and his tail wrapped around his feet. Etude was handling it better, but clearly was still uncomfortable. “I’m going to fix the lines as soon as I can,” I said, and Etude’s ears pricked, an odd rumbling snuffling coming from him. I hoped it was laughter.

My knees were still shaking, and I carefully worked the cramps out. “Go,” I said, smiling at him. “Both of you. And tell those back at the church they might want to leave. I’m going to dump all the imbalance there in a few minutes.”

Etude leaned toward his friend, low elephant rumbles coming from them. Then the gargoyle who had brought Quen nodded, and with a powerful thrust of his back legs, he pushed off and found the air under his wings. Etude, though, remained. “I’m staying,” he said, his red eyes narrowing as he looked at the line. “I want to help my son.” Wincing, he turned to me. “I might wait at the castle, though, until needed. Burn my scrollwork, that line is awful.”

I gave his thick, huge hand a squeeze of thanks. My guilt over having lost Bis grew, but Etude only smiled a black-toothed grin at me, haunches bunching as he made the short flight to land atop the highest point, his wings curving in around him until he looked like a natural part of the roof. That is, until his eyes caught the faint starlight and glowed a savage blood red.

Wild wisps of hair had escaped my braid, and I smoothed them as Quen jumped to my level, his shoes scuffing the gravel. My knees were
still
shaky, but I didn’t think it was because of the flight here anymore. Elven magic was our best bet to keep Ku’Sox off us. I felt like a battery and I didn’t like it. “Ready?” I said as I brought out the rings.

“It’s making my wisdom teeth vibrate,” Quen said as he eyed the line, his wince hard to see in the shadow-light. But he turned to me when the rings clinked, and suddenly the confidence I’d felt in the church vanished. It was more than the fear of Ku’Sox. It was the fear of letting Quen use me like a familiar.

“Perhaps . . .” he said slowly, seeing my reluctance, and I took a fast breath, shoving the smaller worn and dented ring on my finger. I felt nothing from it, and breath held, I extended the ring to him. I trusted Quen. If he betrayed me, Al would kill him.

“Thank you, Quen, for standing with me,” I said, and then sucked in my breath as he put the ring on his finger and everything changed.

“Oh God,” I whimpered, knees giving way, and Quen reached for me. I jerked out of his reach, stumbling several steps away as I found my balance by myself. His hand touched my shoulder, and I lashed out, driving him away. “Just give me a second!” I shouted, panicked but determined to make this work. My breathing came in short pants as I heard him back up, and only then could I straighten out of my crouch.

“Just give me a second . . .” I said again, still not able to look at him. He was there in my thoughts, and not in a good way. I could sense nothing of his emotions, just a theoretical fingertip on my chi, ready to rip what he wanted from it. And I couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t like Al’s rings at all, where both parties had equal access. These were slavers, and I swallowed hard, trying to get used to it.

The ring around my finger glinted.
Al had endured this for how long?
Slowly I straightened.

“Are you okay?”

My stomach hurt. Nodding, I looked up to the dark skies. “Let’s do it.”

“Trent was right about you,” Quen said, clearly uncomfortable as our strengths became one and our will his alone. “You are . . . strong.”

Swell.
Eyes down, I wavered, my heart seeming to stutter. Wanting to see the line better, I opened my second sight. Quen’s aura shimmered, becoming oppressively clear.

“That is incredible,” Quen said as he reached for the retaining wall, a haunted look in his eyes. I wasn’t feeling so good, though, and either seeing my fear in my face or reading it in his mind, Quen pushed from the wall. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his hand gripping my arms to steady me in the dark.

It was getting easier to tolerate his touch, and I nodded, head still down. “Yes,” I said, spinning the ring on my finger to try to make it feel right. “I can’t feel the line. Is there any way you can ease up on your grip?”

“Ah, sorry. How’s that?” he said, and I blinked as suddenly the discordant jangle of a hundred imbalances in the line hit me.

“That’s better,” I said, wincing. Now I could really see. The purple line was extruding a bone-chilling cold, even as the event horizon pulled in energy, the atoms and molecules screaming as they were ripped apart. Even the purple of Ku’Sox’s aura shredded to a pale red under its influence. Turning, I looked up at the castle.

“Ready?” I shouted and got a raised wingtip and a rumble in return. “I think that’s a yes,” I muttered, placing my feet and facing the line squarely. “If this doesn’t get Ku’Sox’s attention, I don’t know what will.”

I winced, one eye screwed shut as I pulled the line into my awareness fully and blocked everything else out. The multitude of the imbalances screamed at me, and I tried to gather them up, but they slipped through my thoughts like butterflies. “It’s not working,” I said, eyes opening up to find Quen hovering close and worried.

“Ah, it might be because of the rings,” he said. “We’re linked, and I’m not doing anything. I know the general idea, but . . .”

“Oh.” Feeling foolish, I faced him, then awkwardly reached out and took his hand. His fingers in mine felt funny, but as I held on, a warm feeling suffused me as his awareness surrounded mine. He didn’t mean to be domineering, but he hadn’t had much practice sharing.

His breath quickened as he tapped into the line, and together we hesitated, taking in the discordant jangle.
Bubble the line,
I thought, getting no response, then becoming concerned when I wasn’t able to do it myself. Either he had a wall up, or the rings only worked one way.

“Quen, can you lighten up? I’m having a hard time holding on to anything,” I said, spinning the ring on my finger. There was a little notch in the metal. If I hooked my thumbnail in it just right, I could spin it almost entirely around my finger and catch it again. Horrified, I stopped, somehow knowing that I wasn’t the first to spin it like that, around and around.

His fingers spasmed in mine. “My apologies. Try again.”

As fast as that, a sensation of the line spiraled through me, heady and strong. I snatched at it, pulling it to me. The howling of the imbalance scraped across my nerves, and realizing just how much Quen had been shielding me from it, I gritted my teeth and sifted through the noise to find a bright gold thread in my mind’s eye, a tinge of smut making it almost bearable. This was my original imbalance, and gathering everything up but that, I tuned my aura surrounding it to the imbalance in Newt’s line in my garden.

“Sweet mother of God!” Quen exclaimed as the ache in the line and in my head evaporated. I jumped, startled as the bubble of imbalance suddenly vanished. I felt a pull, and I dug my awareness into the present to keep us from sliding to join it. There was a sliding
ping,
and then . . . nothing. The event horizon was gone.

“We did it!” I exclaimed, the pure tone of my line singing through me like icing. I was almost dancing. “Quen,
we did it
!” I shouted again, and Quen let go of my hand, beaming. Before us, the purple sludge was gone from the line. It was humming, in tune with reality—apart from the original imbalance, that is.

The wind from Etude’s wings sent my hair flying as he landed behind us on the upraised half of the garden. “The imbalance is at the small line in the churchyard,” he said, his deep voice rumbling and his ears slanted parallel with the ground to look like a peeved horse. “I can feel it there, but only because I know where to look.”

My elation vanished. We had done it, but it was only half over, and the gargoyles were suffering. They were suffering as I reveled in our accomplishments. “Ku’Sox is going to be pissed.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Ku’Sox’s voice said, and I spun. Behind me, Etude began to hiss, sounding like a train making long, powerful huffs. Quen stiffened, stepping before me.

“Congratulations . . .” the demon drawled, taking in my pale clothes and Quen’s black attire. “Now you’re dead.”

“Down!” I cried, pulling on the clean purity of the line before me.

Ku’Sox’s black spell raced toward us, shedding silver sparkles. The line in my mental grip slipped through my fingers like silk, and I scrambled for it, my mouth gaping. I could do nothing.
What in hell?

Quen’s circle saved us, and both of us fell to our knees as Ku’Sox’s spell imploded on its surface, lighting the area in a flash of lightning.

The line!
I thought, unable to find it in my light-stunned vision, and then my panic turned to anger. It was Quen. “Quit hogging the line!” I shouted, ignoring Quen’s offered hand as he tried to help me up. Etude had jumped between us and Ku’Sox, stalking back and forth with his wings half open. He looked far more menacing than when Bis did it.

Ku’Sox hesitated, his features pressed as he reassessed everything while I got to my feet. Quen stood staunchly beside me, tall and unbowed and smelling of crushed grass and wine.