Shadow Magic (37 page)

“W
e don’t have long,” said Iblis Shadow.

“Father, please don’t leave me.”

He smiled. “Never.”

Lily tried to hug him, but there was nothing there. Her arms went through him and he disappeared to re-form a few feet away. It wasn’t fair, to see him but not be able to hold him.

“I’m sorry, Father,” said Lily. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been with you.”

Her father shook his head, smiling faintly. “I thank the Six you weren’t.”

“I could have done something. I could have saved you, somehow.”

“You must look to saving yourself. That is what matters now.”

“I want to see you all,” said Lily. “Where is Dante?”

“They are here, too, Lily. Your mother and brother. They always will be. This is our home.”

“Why can’t I see them?”

“You don’t need to. Can’t you feel them, in your heart?”

“My heart aches, Father.”

“Because it is so full. That is no bad thing, Lily.”

Lily couldn’t stop her tears.

Just then, the shadows began to shake. The deep blackness in the doorways of the tombs trembled.

“Pan has entered the Twilight,” said Father. “He is searching for you. He’ll be here soon.”

“Can’t you stop him?”

“He wears the Mask of Astaroth, lord of the undead. I am bound to do his bidding now. It’ll be up to you.”

“Me? I don’t have that power.”

“You entered the Twilight. You communicated with the spirit of Rose. You called me from the lands of the dead. Your blood is blackest of all, Lily.”

“I…I don’t even know where to start,” she said.

“You start now, daughter.”

“Begone, foul spirit!” someone shouted from behind her. “By the Prince of Light I command you!”

Er…what?

Gabriel stood facing her father, his right palm up. “I said,
begone
! Return to that pit that spawned you!”

Gabriel’s hand glowed—a little. Sweat dripped off his face.

“Will you stop that?” Lily knocked his hand down. “And who are you calling ‘foul spirit’? That’s my father you’re talking about!”

“But he’s a fiend from the outer darkness!” Gabriel extended his hand again. “Begone! By the power of the Prince of Light,
begone
!”

“Stop it, Gabriel! I’m really starting to regret saving you!”

The darkness within the broken doorway of a mausoleum pulsed and a desperate, hideous keening erupted forth. A chill wind, the wind of death and horror, blasted out.

Lily’s Mantle of Sorrows fluttered.

“Prepare yourself,” said her father. “Pan comes.”

S
pecters spewed out of every dark hole.

They crept from the empty doorways of the tombs. They crawled through the moon shadows of the gravestones and slithered out from under the moss-stained statues.

Here in the living world, the specters struggled to maintain their solid forms and instead were a seething, oily mass of limbs and snarling faces. A bone-chilling wind surrounded them, and the grass shriveled beneath their feet.

“It’s hero time, Gabriel. Banish them.” Lily backed away.

“I want my daddy,” said Gabriel. He crawled behind the nearest tombstone.

Yes, now would be the perfect moment for a last-minute rescue. Duke Solar at the head of his paladins. Or Tyburn. Or faithful Baron Sable and his sons. She’d settle for Old Colm and his big stick.

But there was no one but them.

A loud, metallic shriek rose over the hissing crowd of specters. A hole tore open in the air.

Pan stepped out of the Twilight.

Smoky darkness surrounded him. The mask seemed to suck in all light, making the eye holes darker and deeper than anything Lily had ever seen. It was as if she was staring into the night sky at the end of time, when the last star had burned out.

“Sweet niece,” hissed Pan. “Waiting for me in the City of Silence. How considerate.”

Lily’s father moved between her and Pan’s mob of spirits. “Brother, what has happened to you?”

“Step aside, Iblis. My business with you is over.”

“Aren’t your hands bloody enough? Leave her be, Pan. Find some pity in your heart. Lily has done nothing to you.”

“She is in my way, just as you were. It is my destiny to make Gehenna great again,” said Pan. “Now
step aside
. Or do you think I cannot hurt you any further?”

Pan held out his hand, then twisted it into a fist.

Iblis cried out. He sank to his knees and started to fade.

“Father!” She couldn’t lose him again! “Stop! You’re hurting him!”

An evil laugh fell from Pan’s lips. “Look to your own pain, Lily.”

Lily felt a wave of heat and leaped aside. Black flames ripped across the ground and smashed against the tombstone right behind her. The stone melted like wax, revealing a cowering Gabriel.

Lily scrambled to her feet. “Run!”

Gabriel pushed his way ahead of her.

Pan laughed. “Find her, my slaves. Find her and kill her!”

A thousand spectral voices roared across the City of Silence.

“I
’m going to die,” Gabriel sobbed. His face was wet with tears, and his nose dripped with trails of snot.

“I’ll kill you myself if you don’t shut up,” said Lily as they huddled behind a tall mausoleum. “Now wipe your nose and get on with the task at hand.”

He took the corner of the Mantle of Sorrows and blew.

Lily gritted her teeth. But she had bigger problems. She tried to take control of her own rising panic, and think.

Could she reenter the Twilight and sneak back into Castle Gloom?

No. That’s exactly what Pan would expect her to do. He’d have specters waiting for her there, too.

Endless walls of black fire surrounded them. Smoke covered the City. Pan was burning everything. It didn’t stop his ghostly minions, of course.

Think, Lily. Think!

“I can’t stand it anymore!” said Gabriel. He jumped out into the open. “Help! Help!”

“Shut
up
!” Lily hissed. “They’ll find us!”

“Help! Help! Someone please help me!” He waved his arms frantically. “Help!”

Specters bounded toward him through the flames. They scuttled over the roofs of mausoleums like spiders, all jagged limbs and skull-bare faces. They grabbed Gabriel in their claws, hoisted him aloft, and dragged him away.

The flames thickened and drew closer. Lily glared at the figure on the other side of the wall of fire. Pan.

“Coward!” Lily screamed. “Coward! Why don’t you come here and finish me yourself?”

The flames vanished, leaving the City of Silence wreathed in smoke.

“Well said, Niece,” said Pan. “You deserve a better death than your father’s.”

“Dante and my mother, too. Or were they too unimportant to count?” Her Mantle of Sorrows shimmered. It fluttered and the black stirred like oil on water. Lily blinked her tears away. “They loved you, Uncle.
I
loved you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“How many times have I told you, Lily? A ruler can have no friends. No favorites. You must be willing to sacrifice anything, anyone, if you want to rule.”

Ash filled the air. That was Pan’s kingdom. Just ash.

“Can you feel it, Lily?” Pan held out his hand, fingers gently caressing the space between them.

Lily gasped. The pain in her chest was crippling. Her blood pounded in her head.

The specters crept closer. Their chill coated the ground with frost and Lily’s feeble breath came out as a white cloud.

The spirits touched her, and the ice of their emptiness sank into her again, turning Lily so cold she felt her blood begin to freeze. Her skin turned blue.

How could she beat them? There were too many.

Send them back into the darkness.

She was a Shadow; what else was that but pure darkness?

Lily reached out and dragged patches of shadow and dark spots into the folds of the Mantle of Sorrow. It was hard, and the effort burned her fingers, not from the heat, but from the cold. Still she pulled.

The specters snarled. They hesitated.

Pan urged the spirits forward. “What are you waiting for? Finish her!”

Lily drew her cloak around her. To her amazement, it dripped darkness that crept along the ground. The shadows searched, trapping any specter they came across. Lily was like a fisherman; her shadows were her nets.

The folds of the mantle drew in the ensnared specters and they were consumed. Their howls of pain echoed in her cloak as if it were a gateway to some unfathomable eternity.

“Finish her!” ordered Pan again.

Lily stood up. The darkness surrounded her, but she wasn’t afraid. She’d never been afraid of the dark.

The spirits screamed. Some turned and fled, scuttling over the smoldering ruins on their hands and feet. But wherever they trod, the mantle’s shadows took them, dragging them, flailing, howling, into the forever.

Pan thrust his finger at her.
“Finish her!”

The remaining specters, knowing they could not escape, turned to face her. There were dozens, all foul and deadly, and they started toward her, slowly at first, then faster and faster as they charged.

Lily threw her cloak across her like a barrier, and all the specters vanished into it.

Only their fading, echoing screams lingered.

The Mantle of Sorrows shivered. It undulated around her, dozens of yards long and moving of its own accord. Then it settled. It shrank back to its normal size, and was still.

Lily collapsed to her knees.

What…what just happened?

She’d done it—used her magic—but it had taken all her strength. She trembled, and all she could do was curl up and retch. The Mantle of Sorrows had the heaviness of iron and she could barely move under its crushing weight.

“No, that’s not possible….” said Pan. He stared around him, bewildered. Then a deep, monstrous growl rolled out of his mouth. “Awake, awake, you sleeping dead! I command you!”

The earth began to crack. Inside the tombs, ancient bodies stirred to life. Bony fists beat at their doors.

Pan wore the Mask of Astaroth, the lord of the undead, and here they were, fighting in a huge graveyard. How many people were buried here? Thousands? Tens of thousands?

In a few seconds, Pan would have resurrected his army of corpses and then it would be over. For her, for everyone.

“The mask…” Lily muttered. “You’re nothing without it.”

Pan stood over her. “Yes, I admit it. But who’s going to take it from me?”

Lily grinned, despite the pain. “That’ll be him.”

There was the creak of wood from behind Pan. He spun around to see the figure Lily had just spotted.

Thorn stood facing them, bow drawn. He looked along the shaft of his arrow. “Yeah, that’ll be me.”

His thumb freed the bowstring. It thrummed.

Pan threw up his arm to protect his face, but a second too late.

Steel arrowhead met stone mask, and the stone shattered.