Strange and Ever After (10 page)

I lifted the crystal clamp, wielding it before me like a gun.

But suddenly a flash of pain lurched through my stomach. Pierced my chest.

My footsteps faltered, then stopped completely. Agony coiled through me and threatened to cut off my air.

But it was not my own pain.

Oliver!
I shrieked with my mind.
Stop!
For this hurt was his. This was
his
soul-deep rage at Marcus. . . . No, at Elijah. It coursed through me like worms.
Stop, Oliver. Stop!

I fell forward, my hands flying out. . . .

The blackness rushed back, but it was too late. I hit the wet cobblestones. My palms ripped open. The crystal clamp clattered away from me—straight to Marcus.

Casually he kicked it to the opposite end of the intersection.
Then he laughed, a rumbling sound of genuine amusement. I remembered that sound from Laurel Hill. I remembered it from my nightmares. I pushed unsteadily to my feet.

“You think to stop me,
Mamzel
?” Marcus’s heavy Creole accent oozed through the rain and over the crack of Joseph’s electricity. “You think that you and
Joseph
”—Marcus hissed the name with venom—“can fight me? Do you not see the extent of my army?”

“We see your army,” I growled. “We are not afraid.” With a rough swipe at my pants—blood streaked and the skin ripped wider. It felt good. “You kidnapped Jie. Why?”

“Because I have a weakness for the beautiful.” He threw an almost fond smile at Jie. She stood as immobile and disinterested as a statue. “Does she not look lovely? I have enjoyed her company so much—”

“What have you done to her?” The words screeched from my throat. I lunged two desperate steps toward him.

Without thinking, I drew my magic into a well, let it pulse into my chest. If Marcus had laid a hand on Jie—if he had touched her in any way, I would destroy him right now. I didn’t care about Marseille or the Spirit-Hunters. If Marcus had violated Jie, he would die
now
.

As if reading my thoughts, Marcus’s lips curved into a smile, and his eyes crinkled to glowing, yellow slits. He crooked one finger, an invitation to attack.

White blinked at the corner of my vision—Daniel. He stood just behind Jie, a knife in hand. I forced myself to ignore him.
Forced my eyes to stay locked on Marcus’s. Forced my magic to stay contained.

“You,” I said to Marcus, “will pay. In Philadelphia, I promised to send you to the hottest pits of hell, and I meant every word.” My voice trickled out, a bare whisper beneath the rain. As I hoped, Marcus took a step closer. Then another. He looked as smug as ever—always in control—yet he
did
want to know what I said. He liked hearing his prey’s final words.

It was as he took his third step toward me that Daniel struck. A blur of white, then a pistol shot.

Marcus flinched, but either he did not realize Daniel’s proximity or he did not consider Daniel a threat. He continued to stalk toward me.

“Resiste,”
I murmured beneath my breath, never breaking my stare with Marcus. I fixed my thoughts on whatever sick power kept Jie trapped in place . . . and my magic slid through my body to trickle off my fingertips

But I never looked away from Marcus.

He thought this would end today, and as much as I wanted it to—wanted to shred that smile off his face and feel his flesh beneath my fingernails—I felt a deep satisfaction at his inevitable disappointment. It was time he chased
me
. It was time for
me
to be in charge.

So, smiling, I finally let my eyes drift from Marcus’s unnatural face—just as Jie, her gown rustling and her face streaming with bright-red blood and rain, swept up behind him. In a single, vicious movement, she slammed her cupped palms over his ears.
Then her foot kicked up between his legs. Into his groin.

A cry burst from Marcus’s lips, but when he whirled around to attack, his face met Daniel’s knife. With unnatural speed, Marcus slipped backward—out of Daniel’s or Jie’s reach. But I did not miss the sway in his step. Jie’s blow had landed where it needed to.

“Go!” I bellowed at Jie and Daniel. I pointed to the harbor.
“Go!”

Then, before Marcus could try to recover, I attacked.

I don’t know how the magic came to me—like it always seemed to be, it was an instinctive pull. A natural understanding. A gentle slash at the nearest corpses to snip their leashes . . . and then bind them to me.

“Attack,” I whispered. “Attack.” Four corpses turned away from their steady march at me and aimed for Marcus instead.

Then another pistol popped. Blood burst in Marcus’s chest, and I had enough time to see Daniel’s arm lower—and then grab hold of Jie. Together, they raced away, toward the harbor.

Meanwhile, my corpses shuffled toward Marcus—distracting him from healing his chest wound. Then Joseph’s power cracked into the intersection. He and Oliver had arrived.

The world spun before me, and my heart was a husk of exhaustion. Yet my legs carried me away from Marcus and after the rapidly fading figures of Jie and Daniel.

Until I rounded a building and came face-to-face with a wall of corpses. Their gray arms were outstretched, and bone fingers clawed for me.

I scrambled back, swiveling for another street—but it was closed off too. I must have chosen the wrong path. Somehow, I would have to backtrack.

But when I tried to retreat, I saw more bodies and that shock of auburn hair I knew so well. I was trapped.

“Oliver!”
The name scratched up my throat, and with it came a mental shout for my demon, a tug over our bond. Then I drew in every inch of my soul, but instead of bolstering my courage, it seemed to weaken me. I had nothing left—not even enough to stop the nearest body.

I staggered in a circle. My head rolled back—the roof seeming so safe and distant.

“Empress!”

The cry roared out over everything and pierced my heart. I wrenched my gaze to a rooftop behind me—to Daniel. How he’d gotten up there I didn’t know—didn’t care. He skidded to the edge of the sloping shale and heaved something in my direction.

I watched it fly in an arc—a glittery rock surrounded by copper. A crystal clamp. Without a thought, my hands swung up and snatched it from the air.

I rounded on Marcus; my fingers squeezed. Electricity exploded in my veins—a burning buzz that set my brain on fire. But it gave me no time to dwell, no time to think how this device might fail me once more. I would have to let my instincts guide me. My hand shot up, and instantly, lines of blue sizzled out.

For a moment I felt every Dead in my way—ten, fifteen,
twenty corpses all animated by slivers of soul. Then, in a crashing burn that scorched through my vision, the souls shattered into a million pieces. The fragments slammed into the spirit curtain . . . then melted through. Gone forever.

Bodies toppled. Marcus ducked. By the time I could attack again, he had slithered into his army.

“Coward!” I screamed, launching after him.
“Coward!”

Hands grabbed my waist. “No!” Oliver’s voice bellowed in my ear, his grip unrelenting. He wrenched me around and toward the leftmost street. “This way, El.
Come on!
”

I threw a final glance after Marcus. I didn’t understand why he fled when he obviously had enough power to fight us and to keep his army going. . . . But he
was
leaving.

And I would have to let him go.

So with a nod at Oliver, I shoved onward. Together, we pounded over the cobblestones . . . and directly toward the Dead.

“Duck!” Daniel’s voice thundered from above. Then a glowing red pulse bomb arced through the rain.

Oliver and I dropped to our knees in the street.

Boom!

Flesh, bone, and congealed blood slapped the cobblestones, our backs, our heads. Then we were on our feet once more. The explosion echoed in my ears—but it faded fast as we sprinted ahead.

Daniel’s pulse bomb had emptied the street. Yet each slam of my heels brought the smell of sewage and fish into sharper focus. We were almost to the harbor.

A jolt of acknowledgment burst in my gut—Oliver’s emotions. He knew we were near too.

Then we hit a new street, and the airship—huge and white—appeared before us. It swayed and twirled, fighting the wind. The ladder dangled down; Allison must have lowered it.

We passed intersections and alleyways. Rotting flesh streamed along the corners of my eyes. My breath burned in my chest, and even as I pumped my legs harder, I knew the Dead would pour into our path at any moment.

But if I had thought there were too many Dead before, it was worse once we hit the
quai
. They came at us from all angles, and those that did not fit simply toppled into the water.

I pulled up short, and before Oliver could notice, I squeezed the clamp. For half a moment the world seemed to hold its breath—or perhaps
I
held my breath.

Then electricity burst from my fingertips to blaze over the nearest Dead. They toppled . . . but were instantly replaced by hundreds more. Ahead, behind, and beside, the corpses shambled into the street. They separated me from Oliver.

“Eleanor!” Oliver shouted. Waves of panic coursed through our bond. “Where are you?
Eleanor!
Don’t stop!”

My heels punched through waxy flesh; my toes tripped over skulls. Yet my legs could go no faster. I had no magic left inside me at this point, and not even the explosive power of electricity could carry me the rest of the way to the pier.

Fingers clawed at me. Teeth chomped. My hair ripped from my skull in chunks.

But on I went, forcing one leg in front of the other and simply trying to
shove
the bodies aside.

Oliver’s magic snaked out. The nearest Dead crashed back, and for a brief moment I had a clear path to him . . . and to the balloon. Down the pier, a mere twenty paces away, was the airship ladder.

“Come on!” Oliver roared. Then he charged to the ladder and began to climb.

I tried to run faster, but to my horror, the rope holding the airship snapped free. I blinked, my footsteps stumbling. Were they leaving?

Oliver paused midclimb and spun toward me, his eyes bulging.

Then fingers—human and alive—grabbed my arm.

“Go!” Daniel’s voice ripped into my ears. He dashed in front of me—
dragging
me. And when he yelled “You’re gonna have to jump, Empress,” I nodded.

Rain fell into my open lips. My body had lost all feeling. The world was a haze of gray corpses and churning harbor. An orchestra of gasping breaths and scraping feet.

And shouts—Oliver, now at the top of the ladder, was screaming at me to go faster. But why the devil was the airship moving
away
from us? How would I ever reach it at this rate?

Daniel’s fingers released me. His feet kicked up, and as his heels lifted toward the ladder, I shoved all my strength into my own legs and jumped.

Air whipped past my ears. I rose as if underwater: slow,
heavy. Daniel grabbed hold of the rising ladder rungs.

But I did not.

I wasn’t even close—I had not jumped hard enough. Hadn’t gauged the distance properly. The final rung of the ladder slid through my grasp and flew away.

Yet Daniel would never let me fall. His knees sank, his arm swung down. He reached; I reached.

Our hands clasped, and he tugged me with more power than I ever thought he might have.

Then I flew up the final inches and slammed against the ladder beside him.

As we stood there, clinging for our lives and shaking with exhaustion, the Old Port of Marseille and Marcus’s army shrank away beneath us.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

The gondola hatch slammed shut, and all sound
abruptly vanished. It was as if my senses were blanked out—no roaring wind in my ears, no sting in my eyes, and no gulping for the next breath. I just lay there, shivering and wet and blessedly,
blessedly
safe.

My last sight after Oliver had pulled me into the cargo hold had been one of blue Mediterranean waves with whitecaps hundreds of feet below. No land. No ships.

It had felt like hours of climbing to ascend the airship ladder. Daniel had refused to move ahead—or even release me—so every rung had been a trial. Yet now we were here, my eyes locked on Daniel’s.

“Thank you,” I tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
I wanted to ask him about the kiss in the street. About how he knew to come back for me. But I could summon no voice before Joseph shouted, “Daniel! I have lost sight of land!”

Daniel hauled himself to his feet, threw me a final, anxious glance, and then hurried into the hall.

I twisted my gaze to Oliver, kneeling beside me. His eyes roved over me. Checking for injuries, but it was not the outside of me that ached. I felt . . . torn apart. Something inside me had shifted. Something had been pushed too far—like a muscle too often unused.

“Where’s Jie?” I asked, trying to rise onto my elbows.