The Dark Fable, page 28
Mad was sneaking up behind Silence, her wolf eyes luminous with rage.
Ciaran tilted his head to one side. “Whatever would Mother say?”
Silence raised a revolver. Ciaran shook his head. “So . . . I’m guessing the Basilisk doesn’t have that vault key after all?”
Silence smiled and aimed. “Farewell, Ciaran. You are a disappoint—”
Mad swung the bat. As it struck him, Silence swore and dropped the gun. The rest of La Fable Sombre moved, swinging and stabbing. Gun shots cracked out. Silence’s men shouted. When a revolver skidded to Evie, she crouched down and slid the gun back across the floor, toward Queenie, who snatched it up. The skin of invisibility ribboned from Queenie as she undid the safety from the gun and aimed it at Silence.
Silence lunged, slamming into Ciaran. Another man pointed his revolver at Queenie.
Evie swung a statuette against the man’s head and became visible as her power wavered.
Dev clobbered one thug with the pool stick, bent back to avoid being stabbed. Mad swung the bat at another man’s head.
Silence smashed a fist into Ciaran’s jaw. Ciaran staggered. Silence, his shadow on the floor massive, antlered, shoved Ciaran against a wall, one arm across his throat to crush his windpipe.
Evie shouted, “Ciaran! His bracelet!”
Ciaran and Silence both looked at her.
Ciaran ripped the bracelet of sigil beads from Silence’s wrist.
Evie opened Pandora’s jar.
Cold swept through the room. Silence’s antlered shadow raced over the wall, the ceiling, toward Pandora’s jar. As his demon was sucked in, Silence staggered.
Ciaran straightened, blood swathing the lower half of his face. He looked demonic. He stepped toward Silence and clapped one hand, the skull ring glinting, against Silence’s neck.
Silence was stunned.
He collapsed.
As Ciaran was tackled by another thug, Silence dragged himself toward Evie. She backed away, shocked by the suddenness of his downfall. He smiled with blood-stained teeth. “Did you know? All this time? Oh, you are definitely ours.” He spat blood. He sprawled on the floor, convulsed once. He stared sightlessly up at the skylight depicting the shadowy beast in its background of bloodred.
Evie gazed down at the man who had so brutally and monstrously ended her world. She should have felt something—triumph, satisfaction. There was only emptiness. In the end, Silence hadn’t mattered.
Evie fled. She didn’t look back. La Fable Sombre could handle themselves. Even without their powers.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Night
At the Plaza La Mer, Evie slid from Jason’s car. A suffocating dread made her light-headed, her steps uneven.
She was alone now.
You’re not alone, a girl’s voice whispered, and Evie felt strength pour into her, glimpsed threads of shadow drifting from her fingertips. As she stepped into the lobby elevator, cradling the jar containing La Fable Sombre’s demons, she thought about her options. She decided she could prick Night with the poison ring now.
When the doors slid open, four young women in white suits, eyes rimmed in designs of black kohl, stood on the roof, revolvers pointed at Evie. Around them, the roof was decorated like an estate garden, with pillars and little statues on pedestals.
Mother Night moved into view. She wore a white gown, like a Greek goddess, her black hair coiled up. “Evie.” She indicated her guards. “These are Nouveau, Hawk Eye, Magpie, and Scarlet. You can’t win this.”
Evie couldn’t see any way out. She wondered why Night didn’t just snatch the jar from her.
“You’re wondering why I don’t take the jar from you?” Night stepped forward and reached out.
An invisible force shoved the woman back so hard, she slammed into two of her Batavi, who kept her from falling. As Evie stared down at the jar, Mother Night straightened. “If it’s being held, it has to be given willingly.”
“You don’t have my sister,” Evie whispered, despair etching her heart.
“But I can find her. And your brother.” Mother Night held out her hands. “We need you, Evie.”
The elevator pinged. Everyone turned, the four Batavi raising their revolvers.
The elevator doors slid open.
Wearing their bruises and blood like badges, Ciaran and Dev stepped out with Queenie and Mad. Ciaran met Mother Night’s cold gaze. “You tried to kill us, Mother.”
“And I’m not in love with you anymore.” Dev had never looked more dangerous.
Mad said disdainfully, “You made Evie sacrifice us, you bitch.”
Queenie lifted a middle finger. “Mother Night.”
Mother Night smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I have replacements.”
Ciaran told her, “Father is dead.”
Evie flinched as Night’s face changed, the monster beneath her skin shifting upward with her rage. She showed her teeth. “An eye for an eye.” She flicked a finger.
The scarlet-haired Batavi swept toward Mad, a blade glinting in her hand.
Dev tackled the Batavi. Mad and Queenie went for the others.
Ciaran walked toward Evie. One of the Batavi shot at him. He hooked an arm around another Batavi, using her as a shield.
Evie drew invisibility around herself and turned toward Night, dreading what she needed to do to save them all.
Night shouted at her Batavi as, cloaked by the unseen, Evie moved toward her, the poison ring burning on her finger. She halted.
She realized she couldn’t do it after all.
A darkness flickered before her, became a girl in a wet black gown, her hair writhing, her eyes burning green. Evie knew what the demon wanted her to do. As the gauzy darkness whispered and clung to her skin, and La Fable Sombre’s skirmish against the Batavi whirled around her, Evie continued toward Mother Night.
Night whirled, darkness twisting around her, sparkling with tiny bits of purple energy. Her eyes were as black as holes in the universe. “I see you, Evie.” She reached out to grab Evie, to spirit her away—
Evie smashed Pandora’s jar into Night’s beautiful face. Night screamed, blood running from her broken nose as she collapsed.
As the fight between La Fable Sombre and the Batavi continued, a Batavi with the cold eyes of a hawk raised her gun and pointed it at Evie.
Mad said, her voice carrying, “How I wish I could fly.”
Evie twisted the lid to the left and opened the jar.
Four phantoms of black, white, dark green, and copper swirled from the jar, gliding toward their original hosts. Other shadows escaped, twisting into the night like terrifying, ephemeral mockeries of animals.
The Batavi hesitated, struck with awe and terror, as La Fable Sombre, eyes glowing, faced them.
His eyes tiger-gold, Dev swaggered toward one of the girls, smiled, and said persuasively, “You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”
The girl with the crimson braids lowered her gun, her expression one of adoration. Dev gently took the gun from her.
The Batavi called Hawk Eye spun, gun aimed, as Mad levitated like a ballerina in the air. She kicked Hawk Eye in the face. The Batavi fell, the Glock spinning from her grip.
At the same time, another Batavi lashed at Queenie with a knife. Queenie slid back, reached into a pocket of her coat, and flung a handful of pink glitter at her attacker. Inhaling, the Batavi was struck by a fit of coughing. She dropped to her knees. Queenie clonked her on the head with a little statue from a nearby pedestal and the girl crumpled.
Evie saw Ciaran holding two revolvers on the remaining Batavi—Hawk Eye, who staggered up, and the other Batavi, a white-haired girl.
Mother Night was back on her feet, aiming a Glock at Mad.
Everyone froze, Ciaran looking torn between aiming his snatched revolvers at the two Batavi or turning one of the guns on Night.
“Here.” Evie set down the jar, stepped back. “Take it.”
Night met Mad’s gaze, lowered the revolver. Relief replaced the fear on Mad’s face.
Night raised the revolver and shot.
Mad fell.
Ciaran shot Night. She staggered, shocked, clutching at her bloody midriff. She began to change, darkness looming behind her, an immense face forming, a shadowy lion’s body with razor claws taking shape around her. Evie stared in horror at the emerging monstrosity.
Mad pushed up, blood blooming on her coat, and lunged at Night, carrying them both off the roof.
Evie screamed, “Mad!”
Mad turned in the air with Night, the darkness swirling around them.
Mad let go, her arms wide, her golden hair twisting.
Night’s fading scream ended abruptly.
Evie looked away, shaking so badly, she felt as if her skeleton were rattling.
The two Batavi left standing fled.
“Evie!” Ciaran yelled.
Something monstrous and black, a winged lion with a woman’s face, swept upward, from where Mother Night had fallen, toward Evie. Evie saw death. Standing her ground, confronting it, cold night fell over her, a raptor wind tearing at her hair and her clothes. She saw talons reaching down for her like scythes, a pair of enormous silver eyes glowing. Rage ripped through Evie. This had taken her world away.
Something reared up in Evie, something equally monstrous, causing tendrils of writhing shadows to snake from her. She raised Pandora’s jar. The winged sphinx reared back—and spun into the jar like a small tornado. Evie slammed the lid down on whatever had left Mother Night’s body.
As they all stood where the battle had ended, Mad glided back to the roof, examined her wound. She shrugged. “It’s just a scratch.” She turned to Evie, her wolf eyes iridescent. “Where’s Jason?”
Evie looked at Ciaran. “Do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Anguish bled away her adrenaline.
Ciaran set the revolvers down on a table. His gaze never dropped from hers. He said, “Evie. We’ve won.”
To the others, Evie said, “Something dragged Jason into the dark and bit out his throat. Something like a giant python.”
Mad, Queenie, and Dev stared at Ciaran. Queenie whispered, “You were delayed getting out of the Door . . . we thought you were staying for Evie.”
Dev’s brows slanted. “And whose blood was on you?”
“You were in that place between the Doors. The Wild Dark.” Mad sauntered toward Ciaran, golden and feral. “Weren’t you? Jase’s pentacle trick takes him there. What did you do?” She slammed her fists against Ciaran’s chest.
He caught her wrists and said, eyes flashing, “Power needs a sacrifice.”
Dev swore brokenly. Her eyes on Ciaran, Queenie began to edge toward a fallen revolver.
Mad tore away from Ciaran’s grip. “Who else have you sacrificed?”
“Vero,” Evie said quietly, still cradling Pandora’s jar. “Ciaran told Silence and Night she and Jason were going to leave—he needed Vero’s, and Jason’s, deaths to convince the rest of you to turn against Silence and Night.”
“Vero?” Dev whispered, one hand drifting to the tigereye pin Vero had given him.
There was a click. Queenie had the revolver in one hand, pointed at Ciaran.
Ciaran looked around at all of them, his gaze finally coming to rest on Evie. The twist of anguish in his voice was a master stroke. “Vero wasn’t supposed to die.”
“You’re a liar.” Evie twisted the lid on Pandora’s jar.
Ciaran lunged, swift as a snake, and grabbed her, slamming them against the stairway door—through a Door.
They fell into darkness. Ciaran hauled her past clinging shadows. Sharp spines or thorns or nails grazed her skin, tore the dress from her as if skinning her false personality away. She lost her shoes in the hurtling journey between the Doors.
Light burst over them. Evie caught herself against a railing of wrought-iron curlicues. She and Ciaran stood in an interior of iron girders surrounded by night sky. She could hear traffic below. She recognized the steampunk glamour even as vertigo threatened. “Are we . . . ?”
“The Eiffel Tower.” Ciaran watched her. “You’ve always wanted to come here. Because of your mum. She was Night’s bestie. Did you know?”
Evie, barefoot and flimsily dressed in her black slip, confronted Ciaran’s blood-stained elegance, resenting her vulnerability. Yet she still held Pandora’s jar. “Do you think I should be grateful you helped end Silence and Night?”
He leaned close, whispered, “You faked it so well, making us work to get you, our little snake in the nest. You used us, Evie. You used me.”
She laughed in disbelief and shoved him. “You used us. For your goddamn power grab. And I can’t believe you . . .” She could scarcely say the words. The sentence left her as a wail of regret and grief. “You killed Jason!”
“Blackbird—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He said, voice low and cutting, “It was you who used him, didn’t you, to spirit your siblings away because you didn’t trust me.”
Evie felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She whispered brokenly, “I didn’t . . . I . . .” The word “love” became impossible because she scarcely understood it anymore. And it was too late. “Jason was your friend. And Vero . . . did you even care about her?”
Darkness drew around him, slithered across his tattooed arms. Most of his face was in shadow but for a stripe of light over his eyes. “Give me the jar, Evie.”
The Anesidora Pithos had to be given. It couldn’t be taken from someone else’s hands.
The wind swept around them, thieving something nameless from Evie, maybe the cruel element that was hope. She couldn’t let Ciaran get the jar. She saw in his eyes the vicious darkness that matched hers. He would do what he did best—use his gorgeousness and charisma to convince her that a demon soul was better than a human one. And, really, she thought, desperate and conflicted, why wasn’t it?
“Evie.” Ciaran spoke tenderly. “I destroyed Silence and Night for you. We’re free. Your brother and sister—Jason got them out. And Mad, Queenie, and Dev are La Fable Sombre again. Safe.”
Evie whispered, “Not with you around.”
He reached out, brushed one thumb across her jaw. “When did we become enemies?”
“When I saw the light leaving Jason’s eyes.” She realized she’d backed up to the metal railing with its dizzying drop beyond.
He laughed, bitter and sharp. He shoved his hands though his perfect hair. “Even dead, Ra is fucking up my life.”
He surged forward to grip her by the throat. She felt his skull ring cold against her carotid. “I’m right vexed with you, Evie. But I can forgive you.”
“Forgive me?” She choked on another laugh.
“I’ll give Queenie and Dev a second chance. And Mad—I’ll forgive her for anything. I won’t hurt your brother and sister. They’ll be as protected as if they were my own.”
She lifted her gaze to his and knew he was lying. Mad, Dev, and Queenie had turned against him. He didn’t need them. He would find others, recruit other lost boys and girls possessed by demons. Ciaran Argent was beautiful. He had no origin story that was true. Whatever had gotten inside of him had devoured whoever he’d been. That’s what she was talking to, something cunning and ancient—like the snaky-haired creature who’d kept Evie safe all these years.
“Now,” he continued, coaxing. “Just give me the jar.”
She made herself invisible. She began to lift the jar’s stopper.
He struck her so hard, she slid to one knee, tasting blood in her mouth. She caught herself against the metal railing, still clutching the jar. While her brain resettled in her skull, she stared through strands of her hair at his shiny shoes.
He could see her.
She pushed to her feet, sweeping up the hand gleaming with the poison ring he’d given her for Mother Night. He caught her by the wrist and twisted the ring off. He yanked her close, whispered, “Don’t make me do this. What the fuck are you fighting me for? Silence and Night are gone. We are La Fable Sombre.”
She spat blood. “There is no more La Fable Sombre.”
“There is, Evie. And you’ve inherited it. Do you know why?” He stepped back, his gaze cruel, amused. “Because you’re their kid.”
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“That’s right,” he continued, relentless, circling her. “Two kids in boarding schools—your brother and sister—and one more, born in a Paris hospital. A girl. Why do you think they wouldn’t kill you?”
I remember Night being as round as a moon, Priest had told Jason. Mother Night had wanted Evie to take over La Fable Sombre. All the coded conversations Evie had shared with Silence and Night flooded back to her. She pressed one hand over her mouth to hold in a scream.
“Your other ‘parents,’ the ones they killed, took you, blackbird, because . . . well, I don’t know, but isn’t that ironic?” He smiled. “You were stolen by the two people you loved. You helped end the two people who you were stolen from.”
Something shifted in the shadows behind him. When she saw what wove through the pillars, she stood straight, letting the awful revelation fall away. She would deal with that wreckage later.
Ciaran slammed a hand against her neck. When she felt the prick from his skull ring, terror spiked through her. As he whispered, “Sorry, blackbird,” the poison moved sluggishly into her bloodstream. He stepped back, waiting for her to die so he could take the jar. She remained upright, cradling the jar, clutching at the railing behind her as a deadly languor swept over her. She lifted her head with an effort. As the poison swarmed through her, she focused on the darkness prowling across the floor behind Ciaran.
She whispered, “You said you’d die for them.”
She collapsed, hit the metal floor hard, cried out as Pandora’s jar slid from her grip and rolled off the lip of the walkway. Vanishing into the darkness below.
The big shadow stalking toward Ciaran leaped.
Evie stared at the obsidian horn that speared through Ciaran’s chest. Blood whipped out. She whispered, “Hello, Zeppelin.” She saw fury and anguish flood Ciaran’s eyes as the black unicorn dragged him backward into the glimmering pentacle and the Wild Dark beyond.
