Fray (The Ruin Saga Book 3) (49 page)

Billy jerked as a figure emerged from the darkness, winged and haloed by a cone of white light. An immaculate face fringed by ash-blond hair and a slight body wrapped in flowing silk. The eyes set between those chiselled cheekbones were enormous, staring, and filled with rage. Almost hidden from sight—but not quite—where the hands should have been, were instead black, footlong talons. A voice washed over Billy, sighing and insidious. “You are too late.”

Before Billy could react, liquid blackness the consistency of tar gushed forth from the figure, itself alive and snarling. She reacted instinctively, putting up her hands to shield herself. From her fingertips lanced a white jet, connecting with the blackness. The two bolts struggled, sending the Vanished glittering with scattered light. Billy stared, disbelieving, as the Light reached out from inside her, running down through her arms and out. She felt herself being drained, her very being whittled by standing against such a creature.

She knew that had the Light not protected her she would have disintegrated in an instant, dashed like a leaf in a hurricane. But now, with all the anger and fear inside her—from Ma, Grandpa, Daddy, and all the people dying and afraid —she took the Light and
used
it. Just as she had taken up her dagger and cut the monster’s face back in Radden, she took up the Light and struck out.

Screeching as though feeling pain for the first time, the creature shrieked. “
You dare
?”

“Go away,” Billy said. “Go back to the dark place. Leave us alone.”

A harsh laugh from behind the arcing jets of light and dark. “This is my world. Mine!”

“No!”

“You are all at an end. There is no stopping it. You finished what I started—brought about your own end. Now, stand aside.”

It’s now. It’s now.

Billy felt the full force of all the world push down on her. She closed her eyes and opened herself to the Light, let everything go and dropped away into the Frost. With a gushing roar the Light grew tenfold, pouring from her in a torrent. The jet of darkness trembled and fell back.

That voice again, high and outraged: “Stand aside.”

“No.”

“I have worked too long. I will not be stopped. Give me what I am owed.
Give me this world
!”

“NO!” Billy screamed, an unending cry that wound down into infinity, pushing the darkness back in a rush of light to strike the marble-faced thing.

With a snarling wail, the figure snapped back into the inky void, uttering the guttural rumble of a beast robbed of prey. For the briefest sliver of time, Billy hung suspended in space, as though floating upon her back in a brook, spent and defeated. Before her lay All Where: the magnificent scale of what lay beyond Enger Land and all the world. Standing above it all, eight titanic furry legs led to a black abdomen the size of the Earth, and a head inset with beady eyes in which whole galaxies swirled. From a pair of working pincers, a stentorian, benevolent voice: “Well done, Peyton child.”

Despite the horrific sight, she saw true: it was this thing that had worked through her, guided her.

You fought for us
, she thought.

A tug pulled her back through the endless tunnel from whence she had come, just as urgent and reckless, but this time a peaceable whisper followed from the eight-eyed behemoth. “I did nothing. Now go. Slay one last demon.”

Norman ran for Jason. In the corner of his eye, Allie’s prone form twitched and groaned; and beyond, Billy held her hair bunched in her hands and wailed—her whole body aglow. From a seemingly infinite distance, he heard her voice:
It’s now. It’s now.

I have to hold him until she’s done. This better work, Billy.

He could do nothing to stall his forwards momentum. Jason had bent down in a defensive stance, knife held at the ready.

There was no time to think or plan. Norman swung, trusting to instinct, but knew chance alone couldn’t deflect all Jason’s blows. Then they came together, and all was in motion. His arm thrummed as the sabre met the knife, then followed Jason’s every move, as though drawn by magnetic attraction. With every dexterous spin and pivot Jason made, Norman’s arm followed, blocking a barrage that came with such speed that Norman saw nothing but silver. He could only watch, shocked and spellbound, as his body moved of its own accord.

Ice-cold snakes slithered from his chest, into his arms, and down into his legs, guiding him. He didn’t dare fight it. There was only one thing to do: use it.

Jason’s face creased into a snarl of surprise. Norman drove forwards, baiting Jason with a wide attack that sent him diving to the side, bringing the sabre around in a sweeping undercut, following Jason’s retreat. Jason yelled as lightning flashed, bringing the knife between them just in time. The blades clanged with a resonance that threatened to break Norman’s arm.

Jason’s putrid stench filled his nose, the pungent carrion odour of a carnivore.

One more and I’ll have him. One more!

Something exploded on top of his head and he fell backwards into the running water, stunned. Pain radiated down through his skull, threatening to blow his teeth from out of their sockets. He scarcely felt the impact with the ground—what he did feel was his fingers releasing the sabre, which went spinning away out of sight. Blurred by the rain splashing into his eyes, Jason descended on him.

Straddling him with a satisfied sigh, Jason took his time, as though the darkness wasn’t now threading into the tower itself. He flipped the knife over in his hand, grinning with unveiled glee. “I want you to know something, Norman: I’ll skin the little one last.”

Norman struggled in vain, trapped like a bug upon a pin. He gargled as Jason wrapped a hand around his throat and lifted the knife with the other. In the corner of his eye, Allie struggled to her haunches, her shoulders shaking, groaning. So close, yet infinitely far away.

This is it
, he thought as the knife came down.
All I needed was one more chance.

Jason roared in outrage, and the pressure around Norman’s neck was gone. A tiny pair of hands reached around from the back of Jason’s head, digging into his eye sockets. He wheeled back, waving his arms over his back, howling.

Billy dangled from his back. There was nothing distant about her now. Methodically, avoiding Jason’s clawing hands, she withdrew her fingertips from his eyes and dug her nails deep into his face, drawing back across his skull, catching the suppurating wound as she went.

Her fingers sank deep. Pus spurted, infected tissue split like wet toilet paper, and a childish scream erupted from Jason’s throat. The knife clattered to the floor as Jason span in an aimless circle, his arms flapping.

Norman forced himself up to his knees. A haggard shadow stirred not far away, and Norman looked over to see Allie struggling to her feet. As he dragged himself up, he took Jason’s knife with him.

Jason was roaring over and over, and Billy hung on with the tenacity of a limpet, her hands embedded his face, having carved ten long gouges leading back across his entire head.

Norman braced himself to strike.

It’s me. It was always going to be me. That’s why I had the power—

He blinked as the knife was ripped from his grasp. Allie moved forwards and thrust the blade into Jason’s belly.

Jason grunted. His arms stopped milling. Bending slightly, his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell ajar.

Allie pulled Billy from his back, hurrying aside as though he were a rabid dog. Instead of running, she put Billy down, then bent so that she and Jason were at eye level. “That’s for all of them,” she said.

Jason wrapped his hands around the blade handle sticking from his abdomen and pulled it out. Gurgling, he dropped it to the floor and straightened with a low growl. He remained still for a beat, then swayed. He bared his teeth, ignoring the flowers of blood spreading over his clothes and dripping globs of red in the water at his feet.

“Bitch,” he muttered. His gaze wandered to Norman, then finally to Billy. “
Bitch
.”

He reached out to strangle her. Norman was already sweeping her into his arms when something changed: Jason counterbalanced backwards, then he fell slack at the shoulders and staggered back.

Norman dropped Billy, moving before he realised what he was doing, following Jason towards the precipice.

“Norman, no!” Allie screeched.

Norman reached out as Jason’s torso moved into empty space. Then his hand closed around Jason’s jacket, and they both came to a skidding stop upon the very edge. Jason dangled hundreds of feet above Canary Wharf, his heels barely touching the ledge. They wobbled together, Norman’s grip teetering.

Allie and Billy splashed over to stand at his side. Together, they stood before the choking monster.

“Let him fall,” Allie breathed.

Norman stared hard into Jason’s face; the last thing so many people had seen in this world. It should have been so easy, he shouldn’t even have had to think about it.

I wanted to see his eyes
, Norman thought.
I wanted him to know we beat him.

Billy’s high voice was utterly flat, without mercy. “They won’t stop fighting until the monster goes away.”

Jason gripped Norman’s hand. Through a feral snarl, he pulled a bloody grin. “You can’t kill me, Norman. You’re nothing. Nobody. You’re the
good guy
.”

Norman stared into those mad twinkling eyes. Then he opened his palm, and Jason fell into space. He went silently, spinning back and down. Another crack of lightning illuminated his toppling form as it plummeted to the courtyard below.

The three of them watched his tiny figure hit ground, scattering people fighting below. Allie gripped Norman’s hand, and he drew Billy close.

In the courtyard, those beside Jason’s body paused mid-action. Their struggle forgotten, they looked from the fallen creature to the trio standing upon the ledge.

“You beat the monster,” Billy said.

Norman shook his head and looked at Allie. “I thought I was meant to. But I didn’t.”

Allie didn’t look away from the body down in the courtyard. “Nobody is meant to do anything,” she said.

A distant echo of something he once told her rose to his lips. “There’s no such thing as destiny.”

More heads turned up towards them, a wave of stillness spreading from Jason’s spread-eagled remains. First a few dozen, then hundreds. The wave passed through the remains of the wall and out into the city, until eventually every person in sight stared at the tower.

A gale kicked up from nowhere, and at once the darkness began fading, just as morning mist evaporates under the rising sun. The vortex that had consumed the tower widened, losing form and spinning off in myriad spiracles, away into the city, and was gone.

Somewhere, Norman heard a malevolent force scream with rage as the chill in his chest peaked, thrumming, then winked out, leaving him swaying on his feet. For a sickening moment he thought he would fall, but Allie’s arms were around him. Then it was only her face, her rosy rounded cheeks. He pressed her forehead to his.

Streaks of gold erupted through the clouds as sunbeams thrust brilliant fingers into the city. Suddenly everything seemed more real, more
there
as though balls of wool had been pulled from his mind. The last of the rain dribbled around them, and the clouds passed on, leaving behind wisps of baby blue.

Norman passed through silent crowds, stepping around body after body. Alliance survivors stood beside the ranks of James’s army, every weapon on the floor. Allie walked beside him, Billy in her arms. Everybody they passed watched them go by. They left the crumbled wall and headed to the foot of a nearby skyscraper. Muttering floated through the crowd; Norman picked out the odd word:
Alexander, Chadwick, Creek
.

He hurried inside and upstairs, Allie close behind. He was so exhausted, utterly spent. But he couldn’t stop, moving as though in a dream. He knew what he would find, but that did nothing to deaden the blow. He entered a blasted office and found Lucian crouched over two forms upon the floor.

Alexander Cain and James Chadwick lay side by side amidst a carpet of shattered glass, gazes trained upon one another.

Allie released Norman’s hand. He crunched over glass. The edge of room was lined with people—army and Alliance—all staring, all muttering.

Lucian crouched between his fallen brothers. Norman knelt beside him.

“All this, because of these idiots,” Lucian mumbled, his brow furrowed to hide his watery eyes.

“It’s done,” Norman said.

Alexander’s robe was spotted a neat streak of red. Bar that, he was uninjured, a pasty-faced mannequin of the man who had wielded a nation. Beside him, James’s scarred face was peppered with glass; yet in his eyes was the ghost of peaceful twinkle.

Charlie stood close by. He and the other invaders held their heads low, their palms visible; waiting for judgment.

Lucian gave a simian grunt, the smallest nod. It was all they needed. Charlie swallowed heavily, and his chin fell to his chest.

“Last kings of men,” Lucian said, staring at the dried blood on his hands. “What do we do now?”