Strange and Ever After (9 page)

I had never seen so many Dead in my life.

We stood at the edge of the fortress-like base of the Notre-Dame, the stairs down the cliff before us and all of Marseille beyond—and hundreds upon hundreds of walking Dead. For as far as I could see, there were rows of them advancing up the hill—silently, for the wind carried away all sounds.

And they were coming toward the Notre-Dame. To us.

Marcus had raised every corpse in the city. Even at this distance I could see fresh dirt and silt from the buried and the drowned. Gleaming bones and green flesh from the long dead and the newly deceased.

I flung a backward glance to the crypt’s entrance. The skeletons within had not reached the door.
Yet.

“He raised them too,” Oliver said, following my gaze. “I do not know how he did it from such a distance—I didn’t know a human could even possess so much power.”

“He is not human.” I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the crypt door. “He was dead for years, a spirit waiting for a chance to come back. And we have been fools—all of us—dancing to Marcus’s tune like puppets.” I wet my lips. “What do we do, Ollie?”

“Try to leave here alive.” He pointed slightly north. “See that speck of gold? In that big intersection by the
quai
? I think that’s your Chinese friend.”

The wind was rough as I turned my gaze into it. I had to blink constantly . . . but yes, I could just make out the flamboyant gold of Jie’s gown. Which meant that black-clad speck beside her was Marcus.

A growl bubbled up my throat. He was so close. And Joseph could not stop me now.

I dragged my eyes away from Jie and over the streets. Daniel and Joseph were somewhere among all those writhing bodies, but until another pulse bomb detonated, I had no way of knowing where.

“We go to Marcus,” I said. “Back the way we came. Down the hill, left onto that main avenue, then—”

“Are you insane?” Oliver cried. The wind carried his words away. “We need to flee Marcus—not walk right up to him.”

I shook my head, a sharp movement. “This ends now, Oliver.”

“No.”
He cupped my face in his hands. His eyes blazed golden. “Listen to me, Eleanor. Marcus
knew
we were coming. He has us outnumbered and far,
far
outmatched. We will die if we try to stop him today.”

“But we came all this way. I . . . I can’t just leave. And what about Jie?”

Oliver winced, his hand dropping from my face, and I knew he’d been hoping I would forget her. Yet he did not argue. He simply said, “Fine. We get her and go.” He glanced back at the crypt and pressed his lips tight. “The bodies are here, so whatever you’re planning, we need to do it soon.”

Holding my breath, I turned . . . and everything inside me hardened at the sight of the skeletons scraping into daylight. Unaffected by the wind, they moved in a single-file line—like an army—toward us.

I tugged the crystal clamp from my pocket. I would use it only if I had to, but it was better to have it ready.

An explosion thundered, trembling through the air. Oliver and I spun our heads toward the sound. Smoke billowed up from only a few streets away—but the wind instantly scattered it.

Daniel. Joseph. And only a few hundred corpses between us.

I had been planning to kill Marcus, certain that I could do it. Yet the fact of the matter was, I could not. But I would still use this power and this resolve to rescue Jie.

I had the rage and the skills inside me. So did the Spirit-Hunters. We could do this.

“Together,” I said, “we can make a path to Daniel and Joseph.”

“All right.” Oliver’s head swiveled once more to the skeletons leaving the crypt. Then he grabbed my sleeve and pinned me beneath a stare. “We must put aside our differences, El. Right now. Otherwise we’ll never survive this.”

“Yes—”

“I mean it.” He yanked me closer, looking nothing like his boyish self. This was the
demon
in him speaking. “Your friend’s life is of no consequence to me. But
your
life is. I will follow you to the end of this, whatever that may be. So I beg you, Eleanor—
beg you—
to do the same for me.”

“I . . . will.”

“Then for now we are partners and allies once more.” Abruptly, he pulled back, and a cold, lethal expression settled over his features. “Command me, Eleanor, so I may use my magic, and let us see how long we can survive.”

“Yes.” The word growled out, hungry. Ready. And as I turned to face the oncoming tide of putrid faces, I said, “Let’s lay these Dead to rest, Oliver.
Sum veritas.
”

Once we’d descended the stairs, it was a blur of bodies. Gray skin, mottled with maggots and buzzing with flies. Frayed fingertips and tattered lips. Everywhere my gaze landed, I met the Dead.

But I faced them, and I was unafraid.

Magic coursed through my veins, pure spiritual energy.
Pure
power
. Then it exploded from me, a whip of necromancy to slay each corpse that crossed my path. I did not use the crystal clamp, but my left hand kept a firm hold while magic thrashed from my right.

“Sleep, sleep, sleep.” The words rushed from my mouth, nothing more than a whisper. And though I could barely hear Oliver over the scraping of bones, I knew he chanted the same thing. “
Dormi, dormi, dormi.
” Building walls glowed with the blue light of our magic.

As soon as one corpse fell, blasted by my magic into the final afterlife, Oliver would attack the next. Yet for every body that collapsed, another would take its place. Marcus had truly woken every cemetery in Marseille.

When we reached the first intersection at the bottom of the winding cliff path, I realized with a rush of dismay—a dark explosion in my chest—that I had lost all sense of where the Spirit-Hunters were. We had aimed toward that one explosion, but I had neither seen nor heard a pulse bomb since. The wind covered almost all sounds. It rattled through trees and bushes, it roared in my ears, and there was no ignoring the gray clouds that it now carried in. A storm to block out the sun. Though rain wouldn’t stop us, it wouldn’t help us either.

And the Dead—milky eyes and ripped skin were everywhere.

“Sleep,” I said, panting. “Sleep.” Blue light flew from my fingers and slashed at the power animating each corpse in my way. An old woman. Then a soldier. Then two half-eaten sailors.

When the first fat drops of rain hit my shoulder, a shiver slid through my body. We had reached a grid of smaller roads and intersections, and it was only a matter of time before the skeletons from the crypt reached us or Dead came at us from the side streets.

Lightning from the storm cracked nearby. No—not lightning. Electricity.
Joseph
.

Oliver’s face snapped to me, his eyes triumphant. That sound had been close. It was the push we needed to keep going. To charge at more corpses until at last—

Crack!
Blazing lines of electricity burst before us, lighting up shop fronts and closed doors. The Dead crumpled to the ground—felled by Joseph’s electricity.

My chest heaving, I gaped at the Creole. The rain was picking up speed; his shirt was soaked through. Mine too, I realized with a jolt.

And through the misty rain I could just make out a hazy figure with pistols firing at the nearest lines of bodies. Daniel.

“Marcus is northwest,” I shouted. “Only a few blocks from here.” I pointed in what I hoped was the general direction. “We can’t stop his army, Joseph. I know you want to protect the city, but . . .”

“I realize.” Joseph scrubbed at his bandages and scanned the building fronts. Curtains shifted in windows, and pale faces appeared. “Thus far they are only targeting us. And it is so many—more than we have ever faced before. We will have to hope that fleeing Marseille will be enough for Marcus to call off
his corpses. But first we rescue Jie. Somehow.”

“Not somehow.” I beckoned Oliver to my side. “What did you learn about compulsion spells?”

Without shifting his focus from the streets behind us, Oliver said, “There’s no way to cancel one, but you can temporarily
block
it. You have to pierce a part of Jie’s body, and as the blood falls, you cast a spell—
Dormi!
” His magic laced out, felling four bodies at once. Then he wet his lips and continued, “It will be like resting an hourglass on its side—the compulsion spell will pause, but
only
as long as she continues to bleed—just a little. If the bleeding staunches, then your friend will fall right back under Marcus’s power.”

Joseph and I exchanged grim glances through the rain. “That means,” I said, “that we will need to get close enough to Jie to cut her.”

Joseph nodded. “The question is, how do we do that?”

“I’ll do it,” said a new voice. Daniel. He stalked to Joseph’s side, his clothes soaked through. The rain was a storm now.

“And how will you reach her?” Oliver demanded, looking at Daniel. “You have no powers, and your pistols are too sl—” His voice snapped off, his hands shooting up.

Daniel jumped around—but Oliver had already cried “
Dormi!
” and blue light was already streaking through the rain. A corpse fell only feet away.

“Your pistols,” Oliver finished, his voice a snarl, “are too slow.”

Daniel glared. “I can still make a blood wound. I just need
Marcus distracted. You go through the Dead together. I come up from behind.”

“Then you,” Joseph looked at me, “will cast the spell from afar.” Before I could agree, Joseph’s eyes shifted beyond me, and his fingers squeezed the crystal clamp. Electricity snaked through the rain.
Crack!

I whirled around just as the bodies fell. Some were skeletons from the crypt, but most were not.

The Dead had us completely surrounded.

I twisted back to Daniel. “Cut any exposed skin on Jie that you can get to. Then shoot your pistol. I’ll hear it and cast the spell—”

“But again,” Oliver inserted, “how will you get to her?” He thrust a pointed finger at the never-ending lines of Dead tramping toward us.

“Take all the pulse bombs,” Joseph said, shoving his physician’s bag into Daniel’s hands. “And prepare all your pistols now.”

Nodding, Daniel hefted the bag onto his shoulder and began to load his weapons.

“Eleanor,” Joseph continued, “you and I will clear a wide,
distracting
path to Marcus. Oliver will protect our rear. Daniel can break away from us at the nearest intersection. Then, after he gets Jie, we will make our way for the harbor and the airship.”

Everyone nodded.

“Now, let us go.” He marched off, Daniel beside him. I moved to follow, but Oliver’s fingers landed on my shoulder.

“This isn’t right,” he said, his voice a mere murmur over the rain and blasts of Joseph’s electricity. “We walk straight into Marcus’s hands, Eleanor.”

“Allies,” I reminded him. “To the end.”

His teeth gritted, but he nodded. “To the end.”

“What are the words to cancel the compulsion spell?”

“It’s just one word:
resiste
. But you have to focus on
what
you’re trying to stop. In this case it’s Marcus’s spell. Can you do it?”

“Yes.”

His eyes raked over my face. “Be careful.” Then he pivoted backward to blast away the approaching corpses.

I stalked to Joseph’s side. My attacks were pitiful compared to his—a handful of corpses toppled for the dozens he could destroy at once. But we moved onward.

At the first branching alleyway, Daniel veered away from us to make his own path. But he only went two steps before he paused . . . then bent around and ran back to us. To me.

I watched him, momentarily confused. Then, in a fast, hard movement, he yanked me to him and pressed his lips to mine.

Rain ran over our cheeks. Our chests were slick and cold. Wind howled. But Daniel kissed me fiercely. All teeth and desperation, and hard enough to steal my breath and show me all the things we never had time to share.

Half a moment later, he pulled away and, without a word, shot off for the alley. Joseph’s bag swung on Daniel’s back, and before he vanished into the shadows, he withdrew two pulse pistols and took aim.

I sent a silent prayer after him—because, by God, I wanted him to come back to me—before turning to the battle once more. The rain was collecting in the streets, soaking into the fallen Dead. My feet slipped and ankles wrenched on jellied flesh.

Yet I did not slow or stop.

Several blocks, we worked and fought. Every few minutes I would peek at the building fronts. People watched us, safe in their homes.

I was glad we would have none of their blood on our hands, and though I did not think us protecting Marseille had been Marcus’s purpose when he set up the newspaper article, it did make this fight easier.

“Sleep.”
The magic hurled from my fingers to snap the Dead leashes all around. My veins pumped with spiritual energy and something . . . darker. Something hungry.

Marcus was so close.

We rounded the final corner, and the buildings opened up in a wide intersection surrounded by more thin, red-roofed buildings. We had reached Marcus.

Kill him
.

The blinding crush of hatred burst before my eyes . . . and then we were through the Dead. Like blades of grass in the wind, the last row of corpses between us and Marcus crumpled beneath Joseph’s blazing attack.

The blue light left trails in my eyes, but I didn’t care—as soon as I saw the shape of Jie’s enormous gown, the twisting rise of her hair, and the blank stare in her eyes, I moved.

Joseph and Oliver did not stop me. In fact, they fell back and vanished from my awareness. All I saw was Jie . . . and Marcus.

He stood, a lazy slant to his posture and his attention on his fingernails. It was a pose—a slouch of such disinterest that I knew it had to be fake. He was aware of every step I made.

But I was not trying for stealth—or for anything, really, other than getting close enough to utter the words of the spell.

So I stomped directly toward Marcus, my gut on fire and my eyes never leaving his face.
Elijah’s
face. But there was nothing of my brother left in that jawline. Marcus had grown even larger—feasting off sacrificial power. Off my
mother’s
blood. He had burgeoned like some fat leech, and his shoulders were twice as broad as the old Elijah’s.