ARC: Crushed (26 page)

Chapter 33

I manage to contain my euphoric dance to a few fist-pumps and a tiny bit of tappy-tap running in place.

Armand doesn’t say or do anything. I know he and the Crusaders aren’t exactly BFFs, but this is good news. Maybe he doesn’t get it. “Armand, the Crusaders are here!” I hiss.

He stays quiet a moment longer. When he finally does speak, it’s slow and cautious. “But why are they here?”

“Who the hell cares?”

Armand apparently. He still uses the soft and slow tones of a horse-whisperer. “Meda, the demons couldn’t find us.”

“So what? Armand, this is good news.”

“Meda, if the demons couldn’t find us, it means
they don’t have the map
.”

“Yeah. Still good news. Spit it out, Armand.”

But he doesn’t. He waits a beat, and in his growing pause the crash and screams of battle rain down along with bits of dust and stone. A battle with Crusaders. In the demon headquarters.

Oh.

No.

I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. Armand can’t see the horrible realization hitting me, so he continues. “If the demons don’t have the map…” He doesn’t want to finish and I can’t blame him after the way I bit his head off the last time he brought it up. But he doesn’t need to. I finish it for him. If the demons don’t have the map…

Then the Crusaders do.

Why else would they attack the demon headquarters? They’re badly outnumbered and can’t afford the loss of manpower an attack on the Acheron would cost them. At least, not unless they have a really, really good reason.

Like, say, the last time – when a Beacon popped up in the middle of headquarters.

This time they know it’s me, and they’re not here to save me. Whoever has the map must have seen me in the headquarters and assumed I was siding with the demons. Why else would I come here? And they couldn’t risk me joining the demons.

They didn’t come to rescue me. They came to stop me.

And that means Armand’s been right all along. The Crusaders betrayed me.

The Crusaders, whether it’s Isaiah or the Northerners, or both, or maybe other enemies I’m not even aware of, stole the map and hid it. They framed me, set me up to die. I risked my life and the lives of all my friends to help them, and they’re not six feet above my head fighting for the right to kill me.

I’m not sure who I’m more angry at: them for lying, or myself for believing in them. No lie is more dangerous than one you want to believe; nothing burns quite so painfully, or shamefully, as misplaced trust.

Red spots enter the black of the room, and I realize I’m gasping for air. Armand stumbles over, groping in the dark until he finds me. I focus on the feel of his hands on my arms, his voice in the dark. “I’m sorry, Meda.” He sounds like he really means it, but for what? Again, this is all my fault.

“I should have listened to you,” I whisper. About so many things: that the Crusaders stole the map; that they wanted me dead; that it was impossible for me to be one of them. If I’d listened to him, I wouldn’t have put us in the impossible situation. Now I sit in the dark waiting to see which side has the honor of killing us.

And it was all for nothing.

Oh, God. Jo and Chi are upstairs this very minute chasing a wild goose.

A creeping hotness builds under my skin, crawls into my head, burns along my fingertips. Hot, hot rage. Jo and Chi always accepted that they would die
for
the Crusaders, but I doubt they ever thought they’d die
by
them. They would do anything for the Crusaders, but did they ever believe it would come to this? That the Crusaders would betray them? The Crusaders have to know Jo and Chi believe I’m innocent and came to help me; whoever had the Map has to know Jo and Chi are right. They also know Jo and Chi are now seen as traitors and will be caught in the crossfire. They could have stopped it.

They didn’t.

I hope the Crusaders win the battle with the demons upstairs. I hope, because I want to rip them to shreds.

The noises above us grow louder and more wildly violent. The little room swells with the screams of the dying, the magical explosions, the cries of agony, and I feel a part of it. I swallow those sounds, swell with them. I pulse with hatred. I can’t wait to join them, to show them what I think of them all. I pull myself back, forcing myself to wait. I will let them kill each other first, increasing my chances of survival. I need to save Jo and Chi.

There’s another explosion from above, and this one was close enough that I feel the vibrations all around, even under my feet. I brace myself against the wall. The explosion dies down, but there’s a rumbling, grinding sound that continues, and it sounds close. I curse the dark, because I can’t see the new threat. The ceiling could be collapsing and I wouldn’t know it. But the sound is not from above, it’s from beside us.

Beside us, where the wall is sealed.

“Meda,” Armand hisses, but I’m way ahead of him. I stumble toward the stone wall, my hands in front of me. I stretch, reaching for the stone wall.

It’s not there. The wall has slid away.

The tunnel is open.

Giddiness swallows up the rage. Bloody revenge is all well and good, but it can’t quite compete with survival.

Besides, my revenge will keep.

“Armand!” I barely get his name out before he stumbles into the back of me. He runs his hand down my arm until he finds my hand, and I let him take the lead, since he’s been here before. I hear his other hand slide against the wall, and I slide my feet along the floor, as this part of the tunnel’s as dark as the part we just left. We walk for probably ten minutes, but we haven’t gone far as I can still hear the sound of the battle behind us, though it’s a ways off now. Armand moves slower and I can tell he’s waving his hand out in front of him. He comes to a complete stop and feels the wall to our right. Then he draws back and slaps something.

The light, when the wall swings open, is blinding.

I blink, then squint into the room. Another library, this one is like something from England a hundred years ago: small, cluttered, and with lots of wood paneling. We’re in a corner hidden by bookcases so I can’t see the entire room. We pause, listening for anyone nearby. I release Armand’s hand. There’s a pretty good chance we’ll need them free to defend ourselves.

When we don’t hear anything Armand shoves the door – which I assume is another bookcase on the other side – open until it’s wide enough for us to scramble through. Armand leads the way still, moving quickly and quietly. He looks around the shelves and must not see anyone because he moves forward, and I after him. The door is about thirty feet away, and Armand picks up the pace, running now. I dive after him – and crash into his back as he’s come to a sudden halt.

That’s soooo not good.

He shoves me backward with the back of his arm and takes a step back himself. I can’t see around him to identify the problem, but I don’t really need to. There’s enough to let me know it’s bad. I twist and take a leaping step toward the other exit.

“One more step, and I call down my minions,” a voice calmly states. A familiar voice.

I stop in my tracks, though not at his words. Well,
partially
because of his words – I’m not exactly eager to have an army of demons called down. I stop because I know that voice.

I shouldn’t be surprised. The way this day is going, I really shouldn’t.

I force my eyes back open and rotate on the balls of my feet, until I’m facing our captor, who leans languidly against a heavily-carved table in another shelved nook.

“Hello, Meda,” he says.

I sigh, then put on my most disrespectful face.

“Hiya, Pops.”

Chapter 34

“I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you alone,” he says pleasantly, for all as if we bumped into each other at a park – and hadn’t tried to kill each other, oh say, four months previous.

“Weird.
I
was kinda hoping you were dead,” I say, just as pleasantly. I sidestep Armand so I’ve got a clear shot at my father. There’s no reason I can’t make my dream a reality. He’s only a single demon. I may not be able to run, but I can kill him before he summons the others. Or at least try. I don’t have a whole lot to lose.

“No, Meda,” Armand warns sharply. “Flare line,” he nods toward a ring drawn around the table where zi-Hilo leans. I don’t know what that means, but can guess from context. “He’s a zi, he’s got powers other demons don’t,” Armand adds in explanation.

So we can’t kill him, and we can’t run. Crap, we need a plan C.

Plan C, Plan C, Plan C
. I casually glance around the room and come up with nothing. Judging from Armand’s resigned expression he hasn’t either.

That leaves negotiation, and there’s only one thing the demons want from me. “Let me guess,” I drop my voice into the mockery of a man’s, “‘Join us or die!’”

My father’s compressed lips curve into a thin smile. “And? Which would it be? You
are
caught.”

Instinctively, I open my mouth to tell him off, but then stop.

The Crusaders betrayed you.

And worse, they betrayed Jo and Chi. Am I still really willing die for them?

The answer is no. I’m not.

But I can’t join the demons either. My mother. Always, there’s my mother.

She sacrificed everything she loved for me, she sacrificed
herself
for me. She spent her life keeping me away from the demons, keeping me away from
him
. Despite my fury at the Crusaders, I can’t side with my mother’s enemy.

But that means… I swallow hard and feel sticky sweat prickle. It means I’ll die, but not right away. They’ll try to change my mind first, and they’ll ask hard. And I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to say no. Moral fortitude has never been my strong suit.

But where does that leave me?

I feel Armand watching me, waiting for my answer, willing it to be the right one. He’ll suffer right alongside me.

It occurs to me that, were I to side with the demons, Armand could play it off like this was his plan all along. He could say he befriended me, convinced me to come to demon headquarters, knowing I’d get caught… my mind runs away, playing the story in my head.

“Well?” my dad’s voice intrudes, and I blink. I’ll cave in the end, my flimsy morals will collapse like a sandcastle under the wave of pain I know the demons are capable of delivering.

But I won’t side with my mother’s enemy without a fight. I can give her that much.

Armand’s expression gives my father the answer before I can; he saw my decision in my eyes. He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “Meda, no. The Crusaders betrayed you–”

But I shake my head and stick up my chin. I fill my face with contempt and sneer at my father. “That’s not it,” I say. “I won’t side with
him.
” If that means a slow and painful death…

But I’d rather not think about that. Soon enough I’m sure it will be all I can think about.

“This is about your mom, isn’t it?” Armand realizes. Damn how he gets me.

I’m gonna miss that.

“Meda…” Armand starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not like reason will work – my decision is hardly rational. I look at him and I hope he can read the apology I won’t say out loud. I’m sorry I’ve dragged him down with me, but I can’t do any differently. I can only hope he can figure his way out of here.

I won’t die for you,
he’d said.
You can trust me for that.

I can only hope he’ll keep his promise. “You promised,” I mouth. I want him to do what it takes. I’m lost, but maybe he can work the situation to his advantage.

His mouth twists, he blinks hard, shakes his head and turns away.

“Your mother,” my father says, and something in his tone turns my head. His face is tipped down and he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t look like his usual Cold Magnificence. He appears, well, disappointed.

I can’t say it bothers me.

“I think we need to talk about what really happened with Mary.”

“Not a chance,” I snap. He’s the last person I want to talk about her with. “Are we done here?”

His jaw flexes, and he matches my snotty tone. I guess I know where I got that from. “In a rush? You do realize the longer we talk, the longer you live, right? I know a clever girl like you is probably working on a dozen different scenarios on how to escape.” He stirs the air with his hand. “Surely staying alive – longer at least,” a sharp smile, “is a crucial part of each of those?”

I don’t like the man, but he does have a point. I cross my arms over my chest. “Ah, please continue. But maybe we should start with your childhood. You mother didn’t love you enough and all that.” I raise my eyebrows and tip my head to the side.

There’s a spark in his eyes. Humor, maybe. “When you do that, you look just like
your
mother.”

My eyebrows slam back down, threats written all over my face.

“I
will
talk about Mary, and you will listen, or you will
die.”

I glare at him, but again, the man makes a compelling argument.

“Haven’t you ever wondered how she escaped?” he asks.

My ears perk, I
have
wondered, but Luke refused to talk about it. Still, I shrug, pretending indifference. “I knew I had to inherit my awesomeness from somewhere.”

“I let her go.”

“Sure you did.”

He narrows his eyes. “I did.”

“Absolutely. Whatever you say.”

“I did,” he snarls.

“Why would I believe you?”

“Because he did, Meda.” This softly spoken from Armand. I jerk towards him. He glances at my father who responds with a wave and a mocking, “Pray, do continue.”

“It’s not a secret. When she escaped, everyone involved was… questioned. Remember what I said about memories being pulled from people in Hell? Demons, or halflings even, can’t hide the truth Below.”

“How do you know?” I demand.

“Everyone knows.” He starts to raise his hands but stops and shoots another glance at my father. Armand clearly understands he only continues to survive on sufferance. “Once you were sighted, you were all anyone could talk about.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His shoulder lifts slightly. “Would you have wanted to hear?”

My head spins. Zi-Hilo helped my mother escape? But why? I can’t help it, I look to the one person who has the answers. “Why?”

“Because I was stupid, and young,” he says, sardonic. “I helped her and she betrayed me. She was supposed to wait for me, but she…” He waves his hand in front of his face, as if chasing memories. “I am not the monster you think I am,” he smiles his evil smile. “Or rather I am. But not to her. So if that’s what’s holding you back, it shouldn’t.”

It’s a convincing act, but then, so was the last one when he tried to turn me against my mother. I cross my arms, a study in skepticism.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if relaying the story is merely an irritation. “I was assigned to guard Mary, while she was our… guest. She needed constant watching, as she was wasn’t put in a cell.”

I tip my head curiously. He obliges. “They wanted her to access her magic. To heal.”

“Why?” I ask, but I know. Oh, God, I already know.

He regards me with dead eyes. “So they could try, again and again, to break her.”

Break her.
My stomach roils. I don’t want to think about what they did to her. What, I realize, they’re going to do to me.

“But Mary wouldn’t break.”

“And let me guess, you fell in love with her courage. Or was it love at first sight?” I sneer, the bile in my soul boils out my mouth.

“Ha,” he barks. “Not hardly. I spent every day for seven months with her, and I swear she tortured me worse than they tortured her. She taunted me, ridiculed me, made me laugh.” He says the three like they’re the same thing. “And she’d talk, sometimes until I wanted to strangle her.” He curls his fingers as if they could wrap around her neck. “She’d tell me…” he shakes his head. “Then sometimes she’d face the wall and not spare me a word. For days.”

He brings himself back under control. “But no matter what they did to her, she wouldn’t break.” His voice is soft again, but not a gentle soft. An eerie, creepy soft. “She couldn’t hold out forever. Or rather, I actually believe she could, but her body could not. She wasted away, starving. Dying.”

He looks at me. Not in apology, never that. “I wasn’t ready for her to go.” He says it coldly, nonchalantly, with the non-sadness of a cat pawing the body of a vole it’d been chasing and pouncing upon for the past hour, still wanting to play. “So I fed her.” He laughs. “The expression on her face…” There’s a flicker of something in his face, then it hardens. “And I took over her… questioning. I was nicer than they were.” He snorts. “She wasn’t grateful.

“It was her and me, alone together. And she played me like a bloody violin. Or maybe it’d be more appropriate to say she beat me like a drum.” His expression turns vicious. “She made me beg for her words, for her attention. Until I couldn’t think of anything else. Then they decided to kill her.” He turns tortured eyes on me. “What was I supposed to do?”

Holy shit.

Never give yourself to someone you don’t trust. Whether you mean to or not, whether you know it or not, you give them a piece of you they can break
. The uncomfortable expression on her face I couldn’t place. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was guilt.

He didn’t break my mother’s heart. She broke his.

Don’t think you’re immune just because you’re different
.

Holy shit. She would bloody damn well know, wouldn’t she?

“
She
seduced
me
.” He holds up his hand, as if I were going to argue. I wasn’t. I’m too horrified/shocked/flabbergasted – and all right, a little impressed by Mom – to do anything but stand there gaping. “She did. I thought it was…” He goes rigid. “But it was all a damned trick, to convince me to help her.” The twisted smile returns. “I fell for it. She was supposed to wait for me.” He shakes his head. “She left me to be interrogated, tortured. Humiliated. But I showed them. I showed every single one of them – and her. Before I was no one, a nobody. A fool.” He smiles his razor-sharp smile. “I am a fool no longer.” He waves expansively at his kingdom.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He steeples his fingers. “Because I want you to join us.”

“And this is, what? Supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

“No,” he snaps. “It’s because I know the kind of hold that woman has over you.” He spits
that woman
. “Probably no one understands as well as I do.” His mouth twists. “And I know you would never side with her abuser.”

I don’t know what to do with all this information. My head is swimming in it – no, drowning in it. The Crusaders betrayed me, but I couldn’t side with my father because of what he did to my mother.

But what if he didn’t.

Where does that leave me?

Once again, only Jo stands between me and my evil. Can I betray her?
Again?

That was answered the day she dangled like a fool on that rope in front of the entire school. I can’t. At least, not without a fight.

There’s a crash from across the room and then muffled shouts. The tunnel.

My father cocks his head. “Crusaders,” he offers, with no sense of urgency. “They’ve found the tunnel.”

“Coming to rescue me,” I bluff, forcing a smile. “You’d better get going.”

He snorts.

Eh, it was worth a shot.

He taps his chin. “What
do
you think they will do to you when they get here?”

Kill me, but I don’t say so. For starters, because I get the feeling he already knows. “What do you think they’ll do when they find
you
?” I ask sweetly, instead.

He ignores my question. “And what do you think they’ll do to him?” He nods toward Armand, who stands stoic, his face carefully blank.

Kill him too. But again I say nothing.

“Do you really think you can escape? From me, from them, from the rest of the demons searching for you this very moment?”

My eyes dart to the tunnel where the voices have gotten louder. Something slams into the bookcase. “It’s looking increasingly unlikely,” I say, mimicking his blasé tone.

“And if you somehow made it past the hundreds of demons and Crusaders searching for you, what then?” He looks genuinely curious. “Do you think you can go back to them? Or do you just plan to somehow evade all of us, forever?”