Queen of the Dark Things (46 page)

The Queen of the Dark Things lunged forward, furious, but stopped again. She looked over at the five dukes and pointed at Colby. They shook their heads, apprehensive. “Kill him.”

The demons marched forward, the djinn Dantalion clenching his fists as he walked, his body smoking, his skin turning a golden olive, his muscles swelling as he manifested his spirit form; Focalor pulling a heavy boat chain from seemingly out of nowhere, swinging it with a force that could powder bone; Astaroth astride his dragon; Berith astride his horse; the draconic Bune, prowling forward on his taloned feet, flames conflating in his growling maw.

Colby whistled and the earth shook. The ground rumbled, splitting apart, lines forming shapes, shapes becoming pictograms and circles. Each demon stopped in place, at once trapped in a circle drawn especially for him, every symbol in its proper place, cut into the dirt and limestone. They scuffed wildly at the symbols, but for each grain of sand they moved, another took its place.

Austin appeared. She stood before Focalor, a wry little grin tugging at her lips. Then she shrugged coyly, playfully shrinking from him. “Does the big mean corpse-raping demon have a problem?”

Focalor growled. “I won't once I'm out of here.” He stepped forward menacingly, eyes spiteful, ready to kill her. The ground beneath him shuddered, and the symbols moved, the circle shrinking, an invisible force pushing him ever back.

“Let's see if we can make that a little cozier for you, then. You might be here awhile.”

The bunyip reared bitterly, flailing back on its hind legs, batting at the air. The Queen spurred it again, tugging at its fur. “Hold,” she said. “Steady!” It settled and she kicked it again, driving it toward Colby.

Colby whistled again and Gossamer tore out from the dark of the woods. As he ran, Colby focused, siphoning the nearby dreamstuff, stronger here in the greenbelt than in the city, funneling it into his familiar. With each step Gossamer grew in size, his golden fur becoming longer, shaggier, a lion's mane growing from the nape of his neck. Before he was halfway across the open field, he was eight feet tall at the shoulder, drool dripping in gobs from teeth the size of a man's thumb.

Gossamer pounced, letting out a fiendish snarl, its eyes on fire, breath steaming, and bit into the neck of the wincing bunyip.

The bunyip let out a shrill whimper, recoiling, throwing the Queen from her mount.

The two beasts scrambled for ground, nipping, clawing, rending each other's flesh.

The Queen leaped to her feet and tried to hop back atop the bunyip, but the brawl was too chaotic, the creature's craning neck striking at Gossamer like a cobra only to be batted away by the dog's savage paws.

There was only one thing left for her to do. She bolted at Colby with inhuman speed, covering the short distance in less than a breath.

Then she slammed into an invisible wall inches in front of Colby's face. She staggered, dazed, mind shaken loose by the hit.

“I made eight,” said Colby, looking at the ground beneath him. There, dug into the dirt, ten feet apart, were four filled-in holes.

She too looked at the ground, realizing what was going on.

“Now,” he said. “Let's talk.”

“We don't have anything to talk about.”

Behind her, the beasts came to a stalemate, each gashed, bleeding, growling with feral ferocity, eyes locked, waiting for the other to make the first move. Meanwhile, Kaycee's possessed body lumbered toward its spirit, the shadow of her father growing very worried for its daughter.

“But we do,” said Colby. “Lots to catch up on.”

“We better catch up quick. You're going to die tonight.”

Colby looked around at the throng of caged kutji, the five demons locked in summoning circles, and the bunyip cowering from Colby's familiar. “That might be true, but not by your hand. You didn't come here to kill me. That's why I'm not freaking out right now. Later? I'll probably piss myself. But here? Now? We're just two old friends, one of whom is trying to play the other one for an idiot.”

The Queen ground her teeth. “Because you are an idiot.”

“You don't believe that. Not standing outside my demon trap, you don't. Though I imagine right now you're wondering just how smart I really might be. If I've figured it all out and if this is all going to start to get worse for you.”

“Is it? Going to get worse, Colby?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Pretty bad, yeah.”

“I'll find a way out of this, you know. And I'll kill you.”

“No you won't. But I can kill you.” Colby pointed at Kaycee's shell, still stumbling awkwardly toward her.

The Queen looked back over her shoulder at her body. “Kill it. Turn it to ash or whatever it is you do. See if I care.”

Colby pulled a revolver out of his hoodie, cocking back the hammer. He fired, the bullet tearing a hole in Kaycee's emaciated, club-footed leg. The body toppled to the ground, screaming, clutching its massive wound.

“Colby!” she screamed.

Colby's eyes widened and he simpered a little in surprise. “Holy shit. I didn't think I'd hit with the first shot.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Shooting better than expected, apparently.”

“No, what are you—”

“I told you. I worked this out a long time ago.” He slid the revolver back into his pocket. “How long do you reckon before your body bleeds out?”

She ran over, knelt beside her body, cradling the wound. Then she screamed at the demons. “Help me! Heal him!”

The demons shook their heads. They were powerless outside the circles.

“Colby, you can't do this.”

“Tell me something, Kaycee. Why didn't you call me? You could have just shown up and asked me. Instead . . .” He waved an open palm around, gesturing at all this. “What, are you as much the kutjis' prisoner as their master?”

“Something like that,” she said, her eyes cold and narrow.

“And when you die, when that body bleeds out, you'll become one of them.”

“Yes.”

“And the curse of the
Batavia
will be ended.”

She nodded.

“I told you, Kaycee. I was going to kill you.”

She began to cry, holding close the body, instead more worried for the spirit inside.

“The Colby I remember didn't kill someone in cold blood like this.”

“Yeah, well, that kid died six months ago. He just didn't know it yet. Besides, I don't think you were going to give me much of a choice, were you?”

“No. I wasn't.”

“I was going to have to kill that thing, one way or another.”

“Yes.”

“Who's in there?”

“My father.”

“A kutji.”

“Yes.”

“That's not your father.”

“It is.”

“No. That's just a shadow of him. He's no more your father than my friend is out in a field waving for me to come back. Your father's dead.”

“I know,” she said. “But it's all I have left.”

“How long do you think before he bleeds out?”

“Bastard!”

“Time's running out. Do you want to deal or not?”

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, a little girl terrified, her father dying in her arms. “What?”

“Do you want to deal?”

She jumped up, ran over to Colby. “Yes. Yes! Anything. Name it.”

Colby softened, nodding a little, struggling with the truth. “I've lost enough old friends. I don't want to lose another if I can avoid it.” He looked at the body, blood pooling on the ground beneath it, then slid the revolver back into his pocket.

The two shared a moment of understanding silence, her gaze confused, heartbroken. “You mean that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I didn't leave you behind because I wanted to. I had to. And I didn't understand why until very recently. I had to leave you in the desert to become who you are, so I could become who I am, and so we, together, could do this here. Tonight, you and I get to be the people we always dreamed we could be. Even if just for a few moments. Tonight, you and I get to stand against the darkness and say
fuck you
. Tomorrow we might be damned, or dead, but tonight we own our destinies.”

“What do you want?”

“The ring.”

The Queen of the Dark Things shook her head. “I can't, they'll—”

“Kill you for what you did?”

“Yes.”

“That's for tomorrow. I'll see to that. But they want their friends free and they need to know this won't happen again. So I need the ring.”

“I-I—”

“You don't have a choice. Die here with the ring, or fight tomorrow without it.”

She nodded, tears streaming faster now. “This was always my fate, wasn't it? The destiny Mandu talked about. This is it?”

“Yes.”

“It sucks.”

“Not all destinies end the way we imagine. If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure you're not alone.”

The Queen twiddled the ring on her finger, too frightened to remove it. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. Then she tugged, pulling it off.

“You aren't the boy I met in the desert. Not anymore.”

“And you aren't the girl. So are we agreed?”

She nodded.

“Don't look so grim. You're about to get everything you came for.”

“Not the way I wanted it.”

Colby stuck his hand out, palm up, past the barrier of the bowls, and the Queen dropped the ring into it.

Colby motioned to Gossamer, and Gossamer took the hint. He relaxed, his fur lying down, his teeth settling in back behind his gums. He stepped backward a few paces, then trotted around the barrier to stand as near Colby as he could.

The moon was up and the sky was black, littered with the night's first stars. Colby looked around, taking in the young night, slipping the ring into his jeans front pocket. “It's a good night for it, you know.”

“A good night for what?” asked the Queen.

“For all of it. When the sun comes up tomorrow, everything will be different. But tonight, tonight is a fine night.” He smiled at the stars, as if for the last time. Then he stepped forward, outside the safety of the demon traps, kneeling next to Kaycee's body.

He could feel the kutji writhing inside her, fighting the pain, desperately trying to retain its hold. Her brown skin was a sickly pale, blood still seeping from the leg wound. She had minutes left, at best.

Colby cradled her head in both hands, staring into her lifeless eyes, looking for the spark of the thing inside. It was thunderstruck, barely holding on, about to slip free of its moorings. He concentrated, trying to tear apart the dreamstuff of the thing, restructure it anew.

But it relented. The kutji was just too strong.

Colby focused harder, digging deeper, but the hate inside it for its own existence, the passion to save its own daughter, kept it together, tethered it not only to the body, but to the world.

“Shit,” muttered Colby. “He won't break.”

“What?” asked the Queen. “I thought you could do this.”

“I can.”

“They said you could.
Swore
that you could!”

“I can!” He closed his eyes, dug even deeper than before. Only once before had he fought something so unwilling to give up. And that he had thrown to Hell to destroy. “I can do this. I can do this.”

“Colby, I'm dying,” she said, watching her mortality leak away, drop by drop. “Hurry!” The Queen of the Dark Things closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she felt fear. She took a deep breath, waiting, terrified that she was wrong.

The kutji in the demon trap crawled over one another to see, scampering up the wall, excited, hooting, making catcalls at the Queen. “She's dying! She's really dying!” they told one another. They howled like monkeys, did backflips off one another, pulled one another down in an ever shifting pyramid of celebrating shadows. They were close; they were so close. They had their hands and soon they would have the last of their spirits. The circle would be closed, the curse ended, and they could all slip off to their great reward.

“I can do this.”

“Colby, please.”

“Talk to him,” he said.

“What?”

“Be his daughter. Distract him.”

The Queen caressed her own face, her voice no longer domineering, bold, but young, loving, scared. “Dad,” she said. “Dad, are you in there?”

Her body nodded, gurgling a little, wheezing.

“You want a drink, Dad? A rum?”

The body shook its head, grimacing. “No more,” it said, gasping desperately for breath. “No more.” It coughed with the soft hiss of a death rattle.

“Then what can I get you?”

“Eggs,” it said.

The Queen of the Dark Things smiled softly, remembering one of the few bright spots of her old life. “How many eggs?” she asked.

“Three?”

“We can spare three today. I think there'll be enough for tomorrow.”

Colby carried on, still trying to find the weak point in the kutji's psyche. It still would not crack. He worried he couldn't keep his end of the bargain, that all this had been for naught. And he hoped that as the body teetered toward death, that it might just be weak enough for long enough for him to pull it out. But that was looking less and less likely.

He looked at the Queen and she looked at him, their eyes sadly conferring.

She nodded, resigned. “You're right,” she said, looking up at the stars. “It's a fine night for it.” Then she leaned in and kissed her body on the forehead. “Dad, I'm dying. Again. This time for real. I love you.”

Kaycee's body smiled, rasping. “I love you too, darlin'.”

And then the body vanished with a soft puff and the sweet smell of rum and lilacs.