Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) (20 page)

“Juliet, you can’t. This is business, not a date.”

“Since when have I ever hesitated to mix business with pleasure?” She twirled her shiny dark hair around her finger as her eyes appraised me. “Do I
detect
some lingering interest in the detective?”

“Of course not.” I cursed the crimson heat that rose in my cheeks. “But the man has a girlfriend. They live together. You can’t barge in and help yourself.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Why not?”

“Because—” The phone rang. It was Clyde, announcing that Daniel was waiting for Juliet downstairs. Wow. He was picking her up at our building. I had to meet him past the checkpoints. This almost
did
look like a date.

She smirked as she sauntered to the door, hips swaying with each step of those impossibly high heels.

“Wait,” I said, “you’d better take a thermos of blood, because I guarantee you won’t get lucky with Daniel.”

One hand on the open door, Juliet turned around and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

“You’re supposed to be doing a job!” The door clicked shut before I got the last word out.

“She is
so
awesome,” Tina sighed. “I wish zombies could become vampires.”

JULIET WASN’T THE ONLY ONE WITH A JOB TO DO THAT night. Gently but firmly, Mab told Tina it was time for her to go. “But it’s early. I want to practice some more,” Tina objected. She stood, but in slow motion.

“You may practice on your own,” Mab said. “Victory and I have another matter we must attend to.”

“Really? What?” Tina’s face darkened as Mab and I exchanged glances. “Oh, come on. One minute you’re training me to fight in some war and the next you won’t even tell me what’s going on, like I’m a child. It’s not fair!”

It’s not fair
made her sound exactly like a child, but even so she had a point.

“You’re right,” Mab said. “If you’re to be recruited to help us, you should know what we’re facing.”

“I’m right?” Tina quickly covered her astonishment with a grin. “Score one for the zombie.”

“Do you remember what happened at the Paranormal Appreciation Day concert last winter?” I asked.

“Of course.” She did a couple of stiff-legged zombie dance steps. “I almost became a pop star.”

“I mean
besides
your fifteen minutes of fame.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, frowning. “You mean those nasty bird thingies?”

I hoped Mab noticed the utter despair in the look I sent her way. “Those ‘bird thingies’ were materialized Morfran.”

“Oh, right. And the Morfran is a spirit of hunger that’s, like, the essence of all demons. It eats zombies. Your cousin set it loose on Deadtown to feed on us to strengthen his demons so they could attack Boston.”

Okay, not bad. Maybe there was some hope for her.

“Those birds went after me,” Tina said to Mab, lifting the hem of her T-shirt to show some places where the Morfran had gouged her midriff. Because zombies don’t heal, the wounds were as raw as the day they’d happened. “But Vicky used her black dagger and imprisoned them. In slate,” she added. “It has to be slate, right? So the Morfran can’t get out.”

“That’s correct,” Mab said. “The Morfran is bound to the slate, unless someone releases it. And releasing it is what we plan to do tonight.”

“Why?” Tina’s eyes widened as she clutched her torso protectively. “Won’t those birds attack Deadtown?”

“That’s what we’re trying to prevent,” I said.

“We won’t let the Morfran attack anyone,” Mab added. “We’ll kill it before it can.”

“You can kill it? Why didn’t you do that before . . . you know, the concert?”

“We’ve only recently discovered how,” Mab said. “So we must act quickly, tonight. It’s our best opportunity to weaken our enemies.”

“Enemies.” Tina rolled the word around on her tongue as though tasting it. “You know, I always thought of enemies as the mean girls who make up rumors and send nasty texts. But you’re talking about guys who, like, want to destroy the world as we know it. You’re saying I’ve got
real
enemies.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. Then a grin cracked her pensive expression wide open. “That is so cool.”

MAB SENT TINA OFF WITH A YARDSTICK TO USE AS A PRACTICE SWORD. Tina cast a longing glance at my weapons cabinet, but she didn’t argue. She promised to come back tomorrow night to demonstrate her progress.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I turned to Mab. “Teaching that zombie to fight is a disaster waiting to happen.” In fact, if I were taking bets on Tina’s middle name, I’d give
Disaster
the best odds.

“You forget, child, that I spent some time with
The Book of Utter Darkness
as you slept.”

That made me pause. “The book mentioned Tina?”

“Not specifically, no. But it did make a reference to her kind, in the form of one of its riddles. One I hadn’t encountered before:
The dead have no choice, and yet they must choose.
”

I didn’t ask Mab what she thought it meant. We both knew that trying to interpret the book’s riddles led to misunderstanding. And this one was a doozy. How can you choose when you have no choice? By “no choice,” was the book talking about the Morfran-possessed zombies who were driven to murder against their wills? Or did it simply mean that death removes all options? Kane would talk about how political oppression took away zombies’ ability to choose for themselves. See, that was the problem with the book—its prophecies came true, but you were never quite sure what they meant until after the fact.

“Whatever it may mean,” Mab said, making me feel like she’d read my thoughts, “it seemed to me a good idea to let at least one of ‘the dead’ choose our side. Tina is strong, and she’s eager. She’s also deeply loyal to you.”

“Are we talking about the same Tina?” The Tina I knew had stolen from me. She’d quit being my apprentice when something better came along, then begged to come back when “something better” hadn’t worked out. She’d helped me a few times, too, but the girl was unreliable. Yes, she was strong, but she wasn’t the person I’d want at my back in the thick of battle. Anyway, she’d probably get bored of practicing with the yardstick and quit when lunges made her thighs sore.

“I’ve told you before, child. Do not underestimate that young lady.”

“All right. If you promise not to overestimate her.”

“Fair enough.”

“Mab,” I asked, “did you get anything else from the book today?”

“No, child. After the line about the dead and their choices, the book went silent. So I took that nap you recommended.” She yawned. “I wouldn’t mind another before we begin our night’s work.”

I hoped she’d be spared any dreams like the one I’d had. “Mab, does the phrase ‘There is another way’ mean anything to you?”

“It’s a very broad phrase, to be sure. After all, whatever path one chooses there is always another. Usually many more.” She shook her head. “However, the book has never spoken that particular phrase to me, if that’s what you mean. Why do you ask?”

“Pryce and the Destroyer invaded my dreamscape.” A wave of revulsion shuddered through me at the memory of Pryce in that dream. No need to tell Mab about that part. “They were trying to convince me it was inevitable that I’d join their side. But a voice spoke in my mind. And that’s what it said: ‘There is another way.’”

“Whose voice?”

“I don’t know. It seemed to come from somewhere inside my head, but it wasn’t mine.”

“That sense of doubling is common enough in dreams.”

“True. But it didn’t end with the dream.” I told her what had happened in the kitchen, from the repetition of those words when I glanced at the book to Butterfly’s claim that Difethwr had returned to the demon plane, upset and raging, around the time my dream ended.

Mab stretched out on the sofa. She put her hands behind her head, elbows out, considering. “It’s hard to know what to think. Most likely, the voice came from within your own mind, arising from your subconscious as a defense against the attack on your dreamscape. When you glanced at the book, your subconscious put forth those words again, as a reminder that the horrible visions the book shows you are not inevitable. Of course, there is another possibility . . .” She looked me up and down as though inspecting for flaws.

“What?”

“That Ceridwen awakens within you.”

Not that again. “Mab, I told you: I am
not
the second coming. So let’s not go there.”

“As you wish.” How did she manage to acquiesce to me while making me feel like she’d won? Her voice shifted back to its usual crisp tone. “Anyway, child, it’s most likely the first option, a reminder from your subconscious that you do have choices.” With that, she turned on her side. “And now I must rest. You, child, should spend some time in meditation. We must be prepared.”

I was dismissed. To be honest, I preferred that Mab—the one I grew up with, the one who confidently announced what would happen next—to the one who bowed her head and called me Lady. This new Mab was someone I didn’t recognize.

DAD WAS ALREADY WAITING FOR US AT THE OLD GRANARY Burying Ground. Perched on a headstone in the moonlight, he looked like a poster for a spooky movie. The falcon’s feathers glowed almost silver in the soft light, reminding me how little time was left before the full moon and Kane’s transformation.

I surveyed the old graveyard. Row upon row of headstones stretched into the darkness. Some of the old stones tilted. Others had split, and the broken-off piece leaned against the portion that still stood. Some of those broken headstones were thanks to me, from when I’d slammed the Morfran into the old, fragile stones with too much force. I hated damaging the antique markers, but at the time I’d had no choice.

I could hear distant noises of traffic and sirens, but the cemetery itself was quiet. I opened my senses to the demon plane to see whether we had any company. Pryce undoubtedly knew by now that we could kill the Morfran; he’d probably tortured poor Bonita to learn every last detail of what happened at Logan. He’d be anticipating our project here tonight.

As always, becoming aware of the demon plane made me stagger with revulsion. Through the smoke and stink, I could hear the muffled cawing of thousands of birds, the Morfran trapped in the stones, shrieking with hunger and rage.

I listened, trying to judge. Was there less Morfran now than I’d put here back on Paranormal Appreciation Day? I thought so. Pryce needed Morfran for his experiments on the zombies, and this cemetery was the richest source around. We were lucky he hadn’t released it all.

Returning to the human plane, relieved to purge my nostrils with the sweet scent of recently mown grass, I got ready to do the job I’d come here for.

Dad flapped over and landed on a tree branch. He seemed in a good mood. “I can’t believe I didn’t explain things to Anne sooner. We’ve missed a couple of good weeks because I was such a chicken.”

His feathers puffed out, as though the body he inhabited took offense at his choice of word.

“I’m delighted you’re both happy, Evan,” Mab said. “Are you ready to get to work?”

“I know there’ll be some adjustments,” he went on, ignoring Mab’s question. “But that’s to be expected. I mean, we had our problems before. We didn’t always see eye to eye, what with me being from the north of Wales and her from the south. Our current incompatibilities are a bit more dramatic, I’ll grant that. Still, I’m optimistic we’ll overcome them. It turns out absence really does make the heart grow fonder, at least in our case.”

He was gushing like a teenager who’d just gotten a date for the prom, and we let him gush. It made me smile. Mab was smiling a little, too.

Dad saw our expressions and said, “Look at the pair of you, standing there grinning like fools. Did we or didn’t we come here to work?”

“Ah, yes,” Mab said drily. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Well, then.” Dad puffed out his feathers again.

“Here’s how we’ll proceed,” said Mab. “It’s quite simple. I will release some Morfran from a stone. A small amount, to start.”

“A test batch,” I said.

“Precisely. The emerging Morfran will be materialized in its crow form. Victory, you’ll wield Hellforged. Use large, slow circles to keep the crows in its orbit, but don’t pull them in too close. Keep the Morfran in a holding pattern so that Evan may attack. I shall watch to ensure none escapes.” She gestured southward. “Any Morfran that manages to break away will obviously travel toward Deadtown, seeking food. If I see any, Evan, I’ll send you after it.”

The gleam in Dad’s eye showed how much he’d enjoy chasing down every last bit of Morfran.

“Is everyone clear?” Mab asked. Dad and I nodded.

Mab crossed her arms and nodded in return. “Victory, I don’t imagine you’ll need to return any Morfran to the slate—not unless we release too large an amount at one time. If all goes well, Evan will destroy whatever Morfran we release.”

If all goes well.
That’s got to be how things happen sometimes, right? Maybe tonight would be our night for that.

“Let’s go,” Dad said. “I can hear the damn Morfran cawing. It’s making the falcon hungry.”

We got into position. Dad launched into the night sky and circled overhead. I held Hellforged in my left hand. When I was learning to use this dagger, the thing bucked like a bronco, getting away from me more often than I managed to hold onto it. But we’d learned to work together. Now, Hellforged felt warm in my hand, vibrating slightly as if anticipating tonight’s job. I curled my fingers comfortably around the grip. I began tracing slow, wide, clockwise circles over my head. The motion always made me feel like I was twirling an invisible lasso. Cowgirl Vicky. Right.

Mab put her hand on a stone and tilted her head, as though listening. She straightened and went quickly to the next stone. Again, she laid her hand on it and listened. Satisfied, she traced a circle on the stone’s surface, chanting an incantation. Then she produced a wooden stick and hit the stone.

A gong rang out. Mab touched the stone to muffle the sound. Not a good idea to attract attention. She held her hand in place as she struck the stone again.

One more hit, and the Morfran would emerge.

I tensed, preparing for the onslaught.

Gong.

A screeching mass of feathers, claws, and beaks exploded from the stone—and straight into Hellforged’s orbit. I thought my arm would snap from the sudden, strong drag. I staggered but kept my arm moving. Big, slow circles. No need to rush. I wasn’t pulling the Morfran in, merely holding it in place. The drag remained strong; it felt like I was stirring a huge vat of nearly hardened concrete. I quit straining so much, holding Hellforged lightly and concentrating on the motion.

When I felt sure I could handle this amount of Morfran, I looked up. More than a dozen crows with burning eyes circled overhead, moving with Hellforged. They flew silently, as though hypnotized. A couple of them jerked, like they were trying to break out of the enforced flight pattern, but Hellforged held them.

Far above the crows, another bird circled. At first, the falcon was barely a speck in the sky. Then, he dived. The speck hurtled earthward, growing bigger and bigger. His outstretched talons reached. He grasped a crow and tore it in two. Immediately the falcon ascended, gaining the height to dive again.

The drag on Hellforged lessened. Within minutes, all of the crows were dead. Heaps of bloody feathers littered the ground, steaming as the bodies dissolved. In moments, there was no trace left.