Feral Night, page 22
She stepped forward, only for cold, cruel hands to grip her from behind, pulling her away.
“No!” Lukie turned, confronting the person preventing her from going home.
A young woman stood on the path, stooping with a hunched, crooked posture. Her skull bulged in the wrong places, and her facial features were covered by a thick waterfall of midnight hair. Dim, red, glowing eyes blazed behind that black cascade. A shifting carapace of cockroaches swarmed over her dead, white skin, crawling over and under the tattered funeral dress she wore.
Even though she’d never seen her patron, Lukie knew it was her. The Dark Detective. The Murder God. Her vestige burned within.
Anneth paused. “You! I remember now. You attacked me in my realm and stole my memories. You were in a different guise then, but I know you all the same.” She tightened her grip on Lukie. “The girl is mine. You cannot have her. She promised me her companionship for eternity.”
“Sorry, sunshine.” The Detective raised a hand. Her fingers were long, bulky, and fused together, like a baseball mitt. “She promised. I didn’t.”
She shoved Anneth forward.
Anneth’s hand slipped from Lukie’s. Her face twisted in fear at something Lukie couldn’t see. “No! What are you—” She staggered toward the door.
If Anneth went through in a state of terror, whatever happened next would be bad.
“Let me speak with her,” Lukie said.
Her patron shuffled to one side, red eyes burning from within their dark cascade of hair.
Lukie ran to Anneth and took her hands. “I want to travel with you. I mean that. When this is over, we’ll meet again.” She leaned forward, her feelings confused and complicated. This woman had hurt so many people and suffered so much at the same time. And there was something magnetic about her that tantalized Lukie. But she’d done all she could. She kissed Anneth on her cheek. “Go in peace. It’ll be amazing. You’ll see.” She pushed the door open, seeing vivid colors swirl within.
Anneth touched Lukie’s face, one last time. “Beware of the thing you serve. Its wickedness far outweighs mine. I will wait for you beyond.” Then she vanished into the mottled light.
Lukie heard, for the last time, the sounds of her paradise. Waves crashing on the beach, the sound of people talking, and the excitement of visiting a party to be with your best friends.
The door clicked shut. Mists rolled in.
“C’mon.” The Detective tugged on Lukie’s arm. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“It’s not fair.” Lukie trudged into the bus, heavy-hearted. The fog rolled in, cutting off her view of the doorway and the cobbled path.
“Nothing is fair,” the Detective agreed. “I died with so much unfinished. You too. Let’s make the best of it and keep working at our agency.”
“What did she mean about you being a ‘thing?’” Lukie sat in the driver’s seat and swiveled to face her patron. The Detective gripped the entrance’s side handles and hauled herself upwards into the bus, swinging her feet over the high steps. “How did you appear to her that first time?”
“She’s an unstable, murderous ghost lord.” The Detective shuffled to the passenger seat nearest Lukie and sprawled. “Who knew what she meant?”
“What did you do to her? You stole her memories!”
“Hid them, sort of. I had to kickstart her change somehow, otherwise, she would never have willingly entered the Lanes of the Dead.”
Lukie frowned at her patron’s reluctance to tell her anything personal. She tried again, as frustration built within her. “You mentioned the Blood Queen when we renewed our pact. Did you endanger Dad to get to her?”
“You drew her attention in the beginning, and then you cursed your sister. Your old man got involved, and she seized him, mostly because she was interested in you. I worked with that. That’s what I do, play the cards I get dealt.” The Detective rested her hands behind her awkward head. Her cockroaches swarmed over the upholstery. Lukie had the impression she was grinning beneath the fall of hair covering her misshapen face.
“I’ve got her name now. Lovelock. I don’t know what that means, but it’s cut me from Dad. It feels significant.” Lukie kicked at the floor.
“If you care about your living family, you’ll stay away,” the Detective said. “Every ghost lord has a thing to them. Mine is about people being unexpectedly terminated before they reach the end of their natural life.”
“And what does it have to do with me?” Lukie glared at her patron. “Sure, I can’t live with Dad, but maybe—”
“It’s the resonance chain I’m linked to. I spent years getting it under control. Murder’s got different sides—especially killers and detectives, and if you keep solving cases, everything is fine. If you stop, things will go bad.”
Lukie thumped the bus’s dashboard. “It would be nice to have known this before.”
“Now you know.” The Detective rose to her feet. “See you, sunshine. Remember, while you can ferry people through the Lanes of the Dead, you can’t release yourself until I say so. Anyway, the living lands are calling. I’ll be in touch when the next case starts.”
“Wait—” Lukie stood, cutting her patron off from leaving the bus. She was trapped in the service of this woman for all eternity and knew nothing about her. She had many questions: about the Dark Water, and the nature of Tenebra, and about how the Detective had put that spell on her. Yet she asked: “Do you have a name I can use that’s not a ghost lord title?”
“You’re my employee.” The Detective’s crimson eyes burned behind their waterfall of dark hair. “We should keep things professional between us.”
She collapsed into a pool of shadows that broke apart like a thousand scuttling cockroaches.
Lukie placed her hands on her hips. “Hey! One day you’ll tell me everything!”
She poked at the vestige within her. No response.
Damn it. Out of the possession of one ghost lord, and in the grasp of another. If only she’d shopped around for a nicer patron like Dad had suggested. We’re together now. For good or ill.
She didn’t mind the Detective’s cause—freeing souls, attacking ghost lords—only the means, which were horrible. She doesn’t care how she does things, as long as she wins. And that’s going to be a problem.
Sighing, she returned to her seat. As she started the engine, she whistled, forming a tune to the Broken Bells verses. An odd happiness gripped her. A certainty that she’d done something right, despite a bucket of mistakes. Dad was safe, and those who’d survived their ordeal in Stonerise had been escorted to the Lanes of the Dead. The Snarling Curse had ended, and the Thunderhead Ward would have a future free from a ghost lord’s wrath.
Chapter 31
Road Trip
Lukie stumbled from Tenebra, appearing in the cemetery. Spectral energy seethed and ebbed around her, and the Veil thickened. It must be after midnight. Hello, 2004!
“You’re back!” Sienna ran toward her, waving the black crystal dagger. Her face was unmarked by the sores that had marked the Steward and Rira. Lukie relaxed with relief.
“Dad’s safe!” Lukie eyed the relic which could destroy a ghost lord.
“Yes, I sensed his soul return.” Sienna hugged the weapon to her chest.
“Thanks. I got stuck,” Lukie admitted. “You helped me focus. How did you use that thing safely?”
“The saint appeared.” The girl gestured at the broken stone behind her. “She commanded the relic, then I used it to call you in the Underworld.”
“Really?” Lukie glanced at the toppled statue of Elystane.
“Yeah, she was creepier than I expected, what with that hair over her face, but she was nice and showed me what to do.”
Lukie gritted her teeth and poked at her vestige. What are you doing? she screamed at her patron. Why did you bring the girl into this? How dare you pretend to be a saint?
The Detective’s voice grated in her mind. Like she’d trust me if I appeared without being all dolled up. Yeah, I used her to free you from Anneth’s honey pot. Don’t forget, you pretended to be Rira’s dead kid. Whatever gets the job done, that’s what’s important.
Lukie pulled away from their link, furious. She wasn’t blameless either. In the Teachings of the Light, everything had been clear. The Heroes of the Hawkbow—good. The Dark Emperor—a destructive force for evil that had to be stopped. And yet her patron had deceived others to help them, while Meven, styling himself an honorable knight, had murdered his charge. What a mess reality was.
The two sisters stared at each other awkwardly.
“I’m sorry I terrorized your family.” Lukie stuck her hands into her pockets. “I only wanted to see Dad.” She sighed. “I couldn’t accept that he didn’t believe it was me.”
Sienna nodded imperceptibly. “Maybe write a letter next time.”
“Or send a postcard.” Lukie sat on the edge of the broken saint. “‘Greetings from the Underworld. I’m glad you’re not here with me as it’s terrible.’”
“It is?” Sienna asked.
“Yeah. It’s like a deep, black ocean where souls feed off each other.” She looked at the distant stars, remembering her long years running and hiding from predatory shades. “An endless nightmare. Try to have a fulfilling life so you can avoid that place.” She stood and stretched. “Someone told me the Indigo World was deliberately sealed away from the Gold through ancient pacts and rituals. I was annoyed when I first found out, but now I think they had the right idea.”
Sienna bit her lip. “We need to check that Zeran’s safe. If I set things up properly, you can talk with him.”
A pang tugged at Lukie. To have a genuine conversation with her father, in the normal world rather than in nightmares. “I’d better not.” Lukie stared at her feet. Not wanting to explain about how she was contaminated by the freaking Murder God, she shook her head. “It’s best if I go on. Like the Steel Deputy. He goes in and saves the day and has to move on by the end of the episode. Promise me you’ll care for Zeran.” She looked around. “Where’s Tam?”
“I ditched him to come here,” Sienna said. “He’s probably taken Rira to the hospital. She didn’t sound good.”
“I’ll call him…” Lukie searched her pockets for her phone, finding only her cassette, car keys, and the plastic sandwich bag that contained Anneth’s remaining ashes. “Crap, I lost my phone in the Underworld.”
“I can call him.” Sienna’s hands lightly stroked the relic.
Lukie cleared her throat. “I’ll need to take the dagger. It caused the Stonerise curse. It’s got a terrible history.”
Sienna reluctantly handed it over. “It’s so sad, yet powerful. The saint said to give it to you.”
Did she? Lukie stuck the relic in her inside jacket pocket. Now to cast it into the nearest ocean trench. She fingered the remains of Anneth in their plastic bag. “Let me return these to the columbarium, and then we’ll go outside and wait for Tamlyn. Tell me more about your life.”
The next morning, Tamlyn and Lukie drove to the hospital after receiving a phone call from Maggie that Dad had recovered. Evidence of last night’s chaos was everywhere: smashed cars covered with police tape, broken windows warded by signs, and janitors cleaning glass around the building.
“You don’t want to get closer?” Tamlyn asked as they returned to the entrance hall and settled on the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
“No, I’ve done enough,” Lukie explained. “Time to let go.”
Tamlyn touched her arm. “It’s the right thing.”
“Feels so bad.” Familiar voices echoed in the distance. She swallowed, and hunched over; hoodie pulled low, sunglasses on her face.
Tamlyn held a newspaper in front of his face.
And then: Dad, walking past, Sienna holding one hand, and his new wife on the other.
They laughed together and stopped at the reception. Maggie spoke to the person on duty and completed forms, while Sienna whispered to Dad, a private conversation that Lukie couldn’t overhear.
When finished, they went through the front door to the car park. At the last moment, Sienna turned and waved at Lukie before skipping after her family. So much for that disguise.
“Well, that’s it,” Tamlyn said.
Lukie closed her eyes. Her heart ached. Already she sensed the distance between her and Dad. A weakening of the terrible obsession that had driven her earlier. She loved him, but that crushing, possessive desire to stay with him forever was gone. Was this about growing up? Or taking on the Lovelock name? Or the barriers between the Gold and Indigo World reasserting themselves? She shook her head. “What now?”
“A place with decent coffee that isn’t from a vending machine. And pancakes.”
“I can’t eat them anymore.” Lukie folded her arms.
“You can watch me,” Tamlyn said. “Vicarious living.”
“But I can drive people to the afterlife.” Lukie smiled.
“I don’t think I’d want to see that,” Tamlyn said. “Not for a long while, at least.”
As they got ready to leave, Rira entered the waiting room, carrying a plastic bag in one hand. Lukie waved, and the ogre woman came over and sat beside them.
“How are you?” Lukie asked.
Rira shook her head. “I don’t know. Still numb. I keep thinking of the vision I had of my son, telling me to do something important. Then I saw the Steward, and they gave me all their occult stuff.” She showed Lukie and Tamlyn the contents of the plastic bag. Lukie glimpsed the polished wooden case that held the Wellspring Wand, the Mystic Dodecahedron, and a scattering of rings and crystals. “They suggested I should take over as the occultist protecting the ward from the supernatural. Where do I start?”
“I hear Sparkchasers Forums are good,” Lukie said.
“I haven’t logged on there for ages,” Rira said. “Yes, it’s the best place to begin. I’ll do stuff like saving that kid.” She scowled. “Those monsters didn’t care about the regular people, only themselves. What happened to Meven?”
“He ran off.” Lukie made a fist. “He’s kilometers away by now. He better not cross my path again.
Rira cracked her knuckles. “What he did to the Steward was unforgivable. They’re in their old room. You should visit ‘em.”
“Rira!” a voice called.
The glass doors at the front entrance slid open and a young red-haired ogre woman appeared, waving.
“My sister,” Rira explained. “Family can be a pain in the ass, but it’s good to have someone to go home to. Later.” She walked over to the other woman and hugged her tight.
Lukie and Tamlyn knocked on the door of the chaplain’s office. Inside, the Steward, wearing silken elven robes patterned with leaves and vines, sat on a chair, surveying the room’s clutter and disarray. Their face was covered in sticking plasters, covering the wounds that had manifested when they’d attempted to attune to the dagger.
“Hey!” Lukie whispered.
The elf regarded her with their green, liquid eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Tamlyn cleared his throat. “We’re aware of your situation, Steward. That you lost a lot of your memories last night.”
“I’m not the only one,” the Steward said. “People are waking with many terrible gaps. That’s what the doctors told me.”
“It was ghosts,” Lukie said. “The Phantasmal Hunt. But we stopped them.” She tried to fill the Steward in on the previous events.
They drummed their fingers on the desk. “It’s a century after my last memory. I’m old before my time.” They studied their shaking hands. Lukie grimaced. One hundred elf years was about thirty to forty human ones. It would be horrible waking at fifty when she’d only been seventeen the day before. Still, at least I wouldn’t be undead.
“They said my home is gone. What happened?” The elf’s glass-green eyes glinted under the overhead lights.
Lukie plunged her hands in her pockets. “In 1903, the Phantasmal Hunt attacked your village. Your family was possessed by ghosts and, uh, died. I’m sorry.”
“No one lived?”
“The survivors traveled to the Wanwood.”
“Who survived?” The elf blinked.
“I don’t know. After that, you became obsessed by the Stonefell Massacre and hung around here to deal with all the weirdness that emerged from the ghost realm. It’s over now.”
The elf leaned in their chair. “My little Iletharil, gone. Perhaps I’ll understand more when my memories are restored.”
Lukie froze. “They won’t.”
The Steward's deer-like eyes glistened.
“You’ve had part of your soul eaten,” Lukie explained. “That’s a big wound. Your emotions will return. Except those lost years aren’t coming back.”
“And when I do feel again, I’ll be aware that everyone I know and love is dead.” The elf’s hands trembled. “Perhaps if I remembered being a priest, a Steward of Nature, I could draw some comfort from the world about me, but I do not.” He slumped. “I can’t even recall my maturation name. I should sail away into the west.”
“What’s there?” Lukie asked.
“Death,” the elf explained. “It’s a metaphor. There are stories of an island in the Western Ocean where our people live in happiness and eternal grace, and where the firmament spirits commune with us once more. Yet that place was lost forever after the Rending.”
“You told us your name earlier.” Tamlyn sorted through the scattered documents on the floor. “Here’s a dentist bill addressed to Astragalus Lythern Pavish. That’s you.”
“A use-name is not what I mean. What I seek is never written, and only told to the dearest of companions.” The elf shook their head. “If everyone who knew me is dead, then I am lost.”
“Can’t you pick something else?” Lukie wondered. “When I fought….” Is that the correct word for what happened between Anneth and me? She tried again. “To help the Blood Queen, I took her name. And when I try to say my old one, it feels wrong, and the new one fits perfectly.” Only I have no idea who Lukie Lovelock is…
