Evenstar (21 page)

Helion and Andy fell towards them, bloody from the hand-to-hand battle they engaged in.
 
Both looked down and shouted, “Incoming!”

“Duck!”

“I’m
sorry
!”

Andy and Helion slammed into Tonrar, killing him instantly.
 
The pair hit the rocks headfirst.
 
Dahlia and Whitney stared at the mangled bodies in horror.

Solomon Soldiers rushed out of the undergrowth.
 
They shot Nukka in the stomach and pointed their guns at Dahlia and Whitney.

Dahlia held her hands up.
 
“We aren’t armed and she is injured.
 
Please, we—”

The closest man pistol-whipped Dahlia.
 
She fell to the ground unconscious.
 
Whitney passed out from blood loss.
 

The Solomon Soldiers wrapped the bodies of Fallen and Lilliam in iron chains.
 
Helicopters were called in; the bodies were loaded and moved.
 
The human corpses were left on the ground.

***

Phoenix, Arizona—urban sprawl at its worst.
 
The city was dry, hot, and flat.
 
Smoke rose over the city, making the sweltering place look like a hazy bad dream.
 
Belial hated it.
 
She slumped over the steering wheel.
 
“I hate this city.
 
Everything looks the same!”

Celeste sat in the front seat and poured over a map.
 
“What part of the city is the house in?”

“I don’t know!”
 
Belial rubbed her eyes.
 
“Everything’s confusing.
 
The lanes always led me there and now they’re gone!”
 
She stopped the car.
 
“That’s familiar!”
 
She pointed to a house that looked like the other bland houses around it.

Celeste frowned.
 
“It looks like everything else we’ve been driving by.”

“No, that doll in the window, that’s familiar!”

Jacob and Tracy leaned over to look.
 
“Couldn’t anyone have a doll like that?”

Belial frowned.
 
“Well yeah, but?”
 
She looked around glumly.
 
“Has Tokala woken up again?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”
 
Belial kept driving.

Celeste drummed her fingers along the dashboard.
 
“Okay, so who’re we looking for?”

Belial sighed.
 
“A healer.”

“And what kind of Lilliam is he or she?”

“She’s Spider.”

Celeste made a face.
 
“What?”

Belial stretched.
 
“She’s Tokala’s great aunt, one of the second generation kids.
 
She’s not a kid though, I mean...” she shook her head.
 
“I
hate
this heat!
 
I
hate
this place!
 
I swear she lives here to irritate me.
 
Why do you care what she is anyways?”

“Well, that might help!”
 
Celeste chewed on her lip.
 
“Are we looking for her home or a shop or something?”

“They’re one in the same, she works from her home.
 
She’s old.”
 
Belial laughed.
 
“Ancient, she’s a goddess.”

Celeste looked at the map.
 
“Maybe she’s in a retirement community.”

“This entire city is a retirement community!”

Celeste glared at her.
 
“Sorry for trying to help!”

“You should be!”
 
Belial hit the brakes.
 
“Your ideas are worthless!”

“Are
yours
any better?
 
At least I’m trying!”

Jacob unbuckled his seatbelt and got in-between the two.
 
“Calm down.
 
Celeste, your eyes are red again.”

Celeste rubbed her eyes.
 
“Not my fault.”

Belial bit the steering wheel and spoke with her teeth embedded in the plastic, “I shouldn’t egg her on.
 
She really can’t help it.”
 
Jacob, Celeste, and Tracy gaped.
 
Belial’s eyes slid over.
 
“That was
not
an apology, stop looking at me like that.”
 

Belial pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned the engine off.
 
She leaned back in her seat.
 
“Spider used to be a major goddess around here.
 
She’s sort of retired now.
 
She heals Lilliam from iron-tainted wounds, specifically, but she also is a weaver and sells rugs and blankets.
 
She could be listed as a shop maybe?”

Jacob frowned.
 
“I thought you said all the Lilliam are fleeing underground.”

“They are.”

“But not her?”

“Spider never flees during a purge.”
 
Belial unscrewed the top of a water bottle and drank.
 
“She’s lived here for nearly forever, she isn’t moving.
 
They could burn this city down and she’d start again right in her same old spot.”

Celeste looked thoughtful.
 
“Same old spot literally?”

“Yeah.”

Celeste looked up from the map.
 
“Then is that like some sacred place or something?”

“Sacred to her because she’s been there for so long.”
 
Belial dumped the rest of her water on her head.
 
“Sacred to local Lilliam and her humans converts.”

Celeste looked out the window.
 
“Would it glow?
 
I mean, is the spot
magic
?
 
Is that even the right word?”

Belial grinned and punched Celeste in the arm.
 
“You’re not fucking useless!”
 
She got out the car and jumped to the roof.
 
“It should be the glowiest part of the city!”
 

The city skyline was a haze of smoke and heat.
 
Belial frowned and leaned back in the car.
 
“Someone needs to drive around.
 
I think I’ll be able to see it, but we’re going to have to crisscross the city and hope we get close enough in one of our passes.
 
This smoke is fucking up my view.”

Celeste moved over to the driver’s seat.
 
“Fast?”

Belial shrugged.
 
“As fast as you can go without running us into anything.”

Celeste smirked.
 
“Tracy is still in the car.”

“Oh yeah, then go as fast as you want.”
 
Belial gripped the roof of the car and used one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
 
“Let’s go!”

***

Furcas was squished in amidst drunken zombies and books.
 
Someone passed him a sports bottle filled with wine.
 
He sucked the wine down, grateful.
 
Zombie teenagers and college students chased one another, pretending to eat the non-zombified patrons.
 
He leaned his head on the scooter’s neck rest, exhausted and feverish.
 

Furcas looked back at the two corpses he’d rendered invisible.
 
The Solomon Soldiers had grown too vocal and violent when they’d regained consciousness.
 
He’d shocked them to death discreetly and put their bodies under a table.
 
No one missed them.
 
He smiled at the corpses and drank the rest of his wine.
 

A girl painted up to be a very rotten zombie fell on his legs.
 
“Sorry!
 
Oh hey, awesome eye patch!
 
Do you know the pirate zombie?
 
He has…he has one too!”

This question was not a new one.
 
Furcas grimaced against the pain.
 
“No, I don’t, and I bet you know him right?”

She giggled and stumbled off.
 
“Oh yeah I do!”

He squeezed his eye shut.
 
Sweat dripped down his forehead as his fever came in waves.  A headache was growing to make things worse, as if he didn’t have enough pain already.  Without Paimon as a distraction, the pain was wearing him down.
 
He couldn’t take much more.
 
Something banged into his legs.
 
Furcas’ teeth sharpened.
 
He opened his eye.
 

A four-year-old girl gawked at him; her face painted in chocolate ice cream.
 
A chocolate handprint decorated Furcas’ pant leg where she held on to him to stay upright.
 
She grinned.
 
“I’m Charlotte!
 
Are you a zombie?”

Furcas smiled.
 
“Yes, I guess I am.
 
Are you a zombie too?”

She ate more chocolate.
 
“Noooo!
 
Imma dragon!”
 
She jumped up and down; her flailing arm knocked over a stand of books.
 

The girl’s mother stormed over.
 
“Charlotte!
 
Stop making a mess, look at your face!
 
Why can’t you behave?”
 
The woman wrenched on her daughter’s arm.
 

Furcas’ hand snaked around the woman’s wrist.
 
“Be
nice to her
.”
 
The woman’s eyes met his and she nodded.
 
He dropped her hand as her eyes took on a glazed over look.
 
The mother picked her daughter up and hugged her, taking her back to their table.
 
The girl waved at Furcas over her mother’s shoulder.
 
Furcas smiled and waved back.
 

He let his gaze drift to the other patrons.
 
He wondered what was taking Paimon so fucking long; the city was
not
that big and he’d been gone for hours already.
 
Furcas was bored of waiting, but there was nothing for him to do.
 
He couldn’t exactly hold a book open and turn the pages.
 
He sighed and resisted the urge to pick at his stitches.
 

He looked up at a blaring TV, more newscasts.
 
Riots plagued America’s major cities with violence.
 
The anchors and officials had nothing much to say, so they spouted the same calls for calm that he’d heard for hours.
 
Their confusion and fear bled through the TV.
 
The pictures changed.
 
The Luc Industries building burned in New York City.
 
Andy was going to be irate.

Furcas looked out the windows, the people outside were calm, happy even.
 
The continent wide riots had not hit Portland yet, but they would.

Furcas did not want to feel fear, but it crept in, invading his thoughts.
 
He rendered himself invisible, unwilling and unable to make any more conversation with humans.
 
He motored out of the café.
 

Pain raced along his body like fire.
 
His skin went from tan to golden and white.
 
His eye shot open.
 
“Dahlia!”
 
Furcas struggled to move.
 
“
Dahlia
!”
 
He could feel her terror and pain, her adrenaline.
 
Images flickered in his mind.

His struggling tore out the staples that held his stomach together.
 
Furcas clutched his abdomen and ignored that pain, focusing on hers instead.
 
“Dahlia, show me where you are.
 
Show me, Dahl-Dahl.”
 
He moved the scooter, searching for somewhere relatively quiet.
 
Images repeated themselves in his mind like a disjointed home movie.
   

Furcas closed his eye and saw trees and rocks, tundra to the horizon.
 
He saw Chulyin fighting, Whitney shot, Chulyin killed.
 
Furcas saw Andy and Helion hit the ground in a mess of feathers and blood.
 
Dahlia was struck with the gun; the sensation knocked Furcas back as if he had taken the blow.
 
He held his head.
 
“Dahl-Dahl, where are you?”
 

Furcas tried to string the pictures together, but his fever and the pain from his wound clouded his thoughts.
 
Sweat poured down his face.
 
He opened his eye and drove the scooter to the travel section.
 
He reached for books on Canada.
 
He pulled them into his lap and scraped at the pages, desperate for a marker or location that looked similar to what he’d seen.