Matchbox Girls (34 page)

There was a metal wheel on the ground between Ettoriel and Marley’s point of view. And around the core group there seemed to be other figures, ones she couldn’t quite make out.
Celestials without constructs?
she wondered, dazed.

“It begins,” said Ettoriel, and he sounded sad.

Marley’s vision exploded, and she rushed back to her own body. She was on her hands and knees, staring at the old carpet and Tarn’s boots. The faerie duke’s hand came down and pulled her upright by her arm. He was pale. “It begins,” he echoed. “Your friend is too slow.”

Marley surged toward Corbin. “Do it! Open it now!”

Corbin looked at her, grinning. Two of his ravens pecked at strands of the carpet, tugging. Whiteness opened as they hopped backwards and Corbin plunged his hand into it. Around his hand, the whiteness became transparent, and then, in the floor, was a hole leading to Penny’s living room.

Marley stared at it in horror, remembering the dome of fire and the blazing mountains beyond. “That’s not where they are! We can’t go there. They're in the heart of some wildfire up on the mountains!”

Corbin stared at her, his cheer fading. Then he started to mutter under his breath about working unappreciated miracles.

Marley didn’t have time to listen. She had to get to them! They were still alive, still whole, but—

“Severin,” she screamed. “Kaiju!” Her voice bounced around the Velvet Court as if the walls weren’t covered in hangings. Everybody, even Tarn, stared at her, frozen.

But the kaiju didn’t appear, and no door opened.

Corbin’s left eye began to glow with a black radiance, as it had when he’d showed up in the Velvet Court to rescue her. He stared down at his fingers. Then he spoke. His voice was deeper, rougher, a growl. “Whispering Dark...” The words seemed to linger.

Then the kaiju stepped through the hole in the floor that Corbin had made, pivoting upright as he did. “Such a nice invitation, and from
you
, raven boy—how could I ignore it?”

Marley moved toward him, seizing his attention. “Can you open a gate to where Ettoriel and the girls are? Or otherwise take us there? Now?”

The kaiju’s mild gaze swept the room. “Now would be a good time to do that,” he agreed. “There will be a price later.”

“Get in line,” snapped Marley.

The kaiju smiled faintly, although his smile vanished when his gaze moved over Tarn. He spoke softly, but Marley couldn’t understand the words. The speech went on and on, sentences flowing over one another.

Tarn said, “
Must
we fight, creature? No, we mustn’t. Do what you came to do, and don’t try me.”

The kaiju looked disdainful. Then he said, in a voice that ate away at Marley’s mind, scratching against her consciousness like fingernails on a chalkboard, “
Now.
”

And they were elsewhere.

-thirty-six-

T
wo little girls lay on a giant bronze gear, side by side. They were bound to both the wheel and each other, by their arms and legs. An angel crouched over them, wings of golden light spreading over him and cupping the ground. The angel held a dagger in his hand—the Ragged Blade—and it was sweeping down to their joined arms.

The girls were paralyzed, staring at the blade with terrified eyes, unable to even cry out. But Marley could hear them all the same, hear them screaming inside for her, for Zachariah. For the mother they had never known.

They
wanted
to be protected. That was part of what made them children.

The Ragged Blade sliced down, and missed, skidding on the burnished surface of the giant gear. The great wings prevented the angel from overbalancing, but was there surprise on that handsome face? If so, it was only for an instant, and replaced quickly by disgust. He stood up, the iron chain uncoiling from his wrist. “Tarn, rectify your failure.”

Marley realized she was lying on the ground, amidst scorched vegetation just inside the fire-free bubble, exactly where the kaiju’s transportation had dropped her. Maybe ten seconds had passed since the kaiju had spoken in that voice like acid. But now she was protecting the children again. Now, everything was different.

Now she’d put herself squarely in Ettoriel’s way again, and now he had no time to spare. Instinctively, she rolled to one side, feeling for her spear. She'd had it when they transitioned. She scrambled to her feet, looking around wildly.

“Move fast,” said the kaiju. But everybody except him seemed to be moving already. Tarn flowed toward her, and if he didn’t want to obey the angel, she could hardly tell. A rapier had appeared in his hand and he thrust it at her even as he twisted around to snatch at her as she dodged away. His reach was enormous. She tripped over something and the light changed from golden to fiery. She could feel the heat on the back of her neck, hear the snap of the fire.

Out of the frying pan...
She felt around for what she tripped over. Was it a weapon? Her spear? A pointy stick? A rock. A rock embedded deep in the earth. It was so hot it burned her fingers as she scrabbled at it, and she rolled back toward the golden radiance of Ettoriel’s wings. The angel was still standing over the girls, ready to strike as soon as Tarn removed the obstacle.

Tarn’s fingers caught the back of her shirt. She wriggled, kicking, and it tore away. Then Branwyn said, “Stop.” Marley realized her shirt had been cut, and scrambled away.

“Put away the sword,” continued Branwyn. She was standing to the left of Tarn, pointing Lullaby at his throat.

“Kill her,” said Ettoriel, his golden voice harsh.

Tarn grimaced and moved, turning his sword from Marley to Branwyn. Branwyn didn’t even try to dodge, turning a thrust with Lullaby into a stroke that followed Tarn’s twisting dodge.

The Machine spearhead stroked the faerie duke’s shoulder as lightly as a feather before sliding down across his chest. Where it touched, white fire gushed.

Tarn stumbled, his weapon vanishing. He raised his head, his teeth bared, and his eyes were white fire as well. His uninjured hand came up and the fires around the dome flared, then shrank back as crimson light gathered around his hand.

 Neath the bobcat leapt toward his back, all four sets of claws out like she was going to ride him. But instead she passed right through him, as though she—or he—was a ghost. He stiffened, the white fire vanishing from his eyes.

Neath landed, her tail twitching, and in between her claws she held the pixie form of Tarn. Tarn stared at her. “I hate your cat,” he muttered, and twitched as the cat placed one paw on the chest of the pixie, her claws pressing into the tiny figure’s torso. She gave the man form of Tarn a meaningful look.

Then Branwyn kicked him in the side of the leg, and he fell over. She kicked him again, then knelt on his chest. The crimson light in his hand ran up his arm and started crawling inside his body at the white rents left in his flesh by Lullaby.

“Marley,” shouted Corbin, and she jumped as there was a thump behind her, moving just as the Ragged Blade whistled past her. Her scalp felt bare where the long dagger had brushed it. Her fingers closed around Lullaby’s haft as Branwyn pushed it into her hand, and she brought it up in time for Ettoriel’s second strike. A third strike at her legs, she barely stopped with the Lullaby’s Machine point, the clash of the Ragged Blade against the spear making her hands ache awfully.

The ringing from the strike grew louder instead of fading. As Marley retreated, trying to get enough space between herself and Ettoriel that she could think about what she was doing, Lullaby began to sing. Its voice was similar to a glass harmonica, each note sweet and shimmering. Marley could feel them through the haft.

Ettoriel leapt back, his wings assisting his retreat. He stared warily at Marley’s weapon, and Marley tried to hold it like she knew what she was doing. Then his eyes flickered to the side, where Branwyn still sat on Tarn.

“You can try killing me, but I might end up killing you instead,” Marley called.

“It’s only fair,” he murmured, and shook out his wings. He stood perfectly still as he looked at her. “I always thought the nephilim were a tragedy, but I never thought they were actually evil. Until now.”

Marley blinked and shouted, “Which one of us is trying to murder children?”

Something heavy and bright knocked into her, throwing her off her feet. In her blink, Ettoriel had leapt over to her, his ethereal-looking wings slamming into her.

Her shoulder hit the ground hard. She used the momentum to roll, scrambling back to her feet and thrusting wildly with Lullaby. The crooning of the Machine rose to a scream and she realized she had some space again.

If only I had functional precognition instead of the stupid catastrophe vision. It’s ridiculous,
she thought dizzily.

But Corbin was beside the girls at the giant gear. The rope that bound their arms and feet fell away at his touch. He scowled down at the paralysis still gripping the children.

“Jeremy!” cried Ettoriel. Jeremy stepped beside Corbin and yanked him off balance.

Marley dragged her gaze back to Ettoriel, resisting the desire to turn her head and check on Branwyn. She couldn’t take care of everybody, and to take care of
anybody
right now, she had to concentrate on herself. On her enemy. On the angel trying to kill her. She had to take care of herself.

She narrowed her eyes and dodged randomly to one side. He raised the hand with the chain, and something white-hot sizzled the air where she’d been standing.
Was that just lightning
?

Ettoriel’s face twisted and he closed with her again, slashing with his blade. She bent sideways to avoid it and poked Lullaby at him as she recovered her balance.

This time, to her surprise, the spear caught his arm, leaving behind a burning white line that faded, bright red blood welling from the wound.

Unlike Tarn, Ettoriel didn’t seem to be crippled by the touch of the weapon. He didn’t even seem to notice. Furious at this failure of her expectations, Marley stabbed at him again, this time sinking the Machine spearhead into his chest. She didn’t get it very far in before his hand closed over the haft of the weapon. He yanked it out of her hands and out of him, tossing it to one side. Then he grabbed her hair and pulled her off her feet, bringing his dagger back for a final cut.

A child screamed. The fires, damped down by whatever Tarn had done, roared skyward, and the ground underfoot trembled. Despite the golden glow of the shield around the ritual area, the air sizzled with heat.

The shaking of the ground increased. Marley threw herself to one side, wrenching herself out of Ettoriel’s grip and leaving behind a hunk of her hair. She scrambled along the heaving ground toward Lullaby, as Ettoriel cried, “No!”

And a child’s voice echoed him. “No!”

Marley looked up as her fingers closed over the spear. Lissa and Kari were both on their feet, beside the bronze gear. A creature made of fire loomed over them, and as Lissa stared angrily at Ettoriel, Kari started tearing the fire creature to cinders.

Marley could feel power beating against the shields she had around the children. The conflict between their desire to lash out and their desire to hide and wait for it to be all over was growing.

“No, Liss,” wept Kari. “We’re bad. No.” Each word rang against Marley’s skin.

For a split second, Marley met Lissa’s eyes, and she felt the girl’s words as much as heard them. “Yes. We are.”

“No!” Marley screamed, almost before Lissa had finished speaking, and flung herself back at Ettoriel. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to them? They were just little girls!”

She slashed at him again and again, and he stumbled backward. Each shallow cut glowed silver before trickling red. Something was wrong. Had stabbing Tarn actually changed the weapon as he’d implied it might? Or was Ettoriel resistant? She paused, panting, and noticed the red smeared all over her own arms. She’d been injured herself, and yet she barely felt it. Branwyn's reservoir of strength sustained her through the connection Corbin had forged. 

She remembered that Ettoriel had also forged a connection with one of her friends. Her gaze found Penny. The other young woman was kneeling down, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her head bowed. She was glowing softly. Marley could see each of her chakra nodes, dim and empty. There was a bright shape nestled within her, like Penny’s form was projected onto a backlit screen. White rents tore across her form, as if the film projecting her was damaged. White rents that corresponded to the bloody wounds on Ettoriel’s body.

“You bastard,” she whispered, her spear dipping.

If he’d smiled at her then, calm and superior, it might have reawakened her rage. But he only sighed, like she was a misbehaving child. “You see. If you defend yourself, you destroy your friend. And she is weak. If you hesitate or resist too long, what little remains of her soul will burn just like these mountains. Let me save the world.”

“I can’t stand by and let you murder them,” she whispered. Grief like she’d never imagined swelled within her.

He stepped closer and considered her. “I respect that. I will end you, and then them, and I will keep your friends safe.” Almost apologetically, he said, “It’s the best way. The only way.”

Behind Ettoriel, Corbin kicked Jeremy and crawled over to Penny. He put his hand to his eyes and then pushed his hand against her forehead, just as he had once done to Marley. Penny’s top node filled with light. Her head lifted, her eyes widening. She looked at her hands and screamed, high and shrill. Scrambling to her feet, she looked around wildly, dodging randomly. She saw the fire. Ettoriel. The little girls.

Corbin grabbed her arm and said something to her roughly. He shook her, pulled her to one side and turned her so she could see Marley. Ettoriel looked over his shoulder, frowning.

Corbin pulled back his hand as if to hit Penny. And Penny gasped, “Marley, Marley. I don’t know what’s going on. Please help me.”

Marley’s soul, stretched as tight as a violin string, sang. Without consciously thinking, she wrapped Penny in
safety
. She was safe, safe from Corbin’s hand, safe from Jeremy rising up behind her, safe from Ettoriel’s light