Storykiller (48 page)

“Back up,” she said as The Monster advanced on them. She didn’t know if she had the strength to lift the axe above her head, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

“Father, were you not proud? Not even a little?” The Monster asked,
as if Tessa wasn’t even there.

Dr. Frankenstein hung his head in shame, and Tessa looked between them.

“Sorry, Doc,” she said, shrugging, and then punched Dr. Frankenstein in the face, knocking him out.

The Monster hadn’t wanted to do any of this without Dr. Frankenstein here to witness it. Tessa didn’t think knocking Frankenstein out would stop The Monster’s plans, but maybe if he was attached enough to the idea of his father watching the master plan unfold it would at least slow him down.

Tessa shrugged as The Monster looked at her, a glimmer of confusion in his eyes.

Suddenly, The Monster reared up and caught Tessa under the chin with his massive, frying pan-sized fist. She flew a dozen feet in the air and at least as many backwards, landing on the edge of the stage. Tessa crawled to her knees just as a giant black boot came at her midsection, lifting her several feet off the ground. Tessa landed on her stomach, gasping and trying to catch her breath. Every hit was like being hit by a truck. Tessa rolled over just as he brought his black boot down toward her face. Tessa caught it mere inches from her face and pushed him backwards. He stumbled off-balance but righted himself before Tessa could get to her feet.

She was not feeling her usual superhero self thanks to the machine, although with his strength, she wasn’t sure it mattered. Tessa heard gunshots in the distance and worried for one moment what was going on outside the tent before his giant palm connected with her face and sent her sliding across the stage
like a rag doll.

Brand and Snow stumbled to the edge of the trees.

Things did not look good. Though they’d whittled the army of creatures down impressively, a still formidable army remained and it surrounded Micah and the others. Brand looked at Snow in desperation. She looked back at him and shook her head.

“No,” she said as if reading his mind. “I don’t have enough left to help, I’m sorry.” He could tell from her eyes and the flush in her skin that she was tapped. He thought she might even actually be sorry about it.

“I have to go,” he said, and she nodded in understanding. He didn’t have any weapons though; he’d lost his Katana somewhere between sending Circe away and carrying Snow off the battlefield.

“Here,” Snow said. She held out her hand, and it glowed a fierce white for a few moments. When the glow subsided she was holding a long blade of ice. Brand reached for it but it was so cold that touching it was like touching fire. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt and wrapped it around the hilt so he could carry it. “Be careful,” she said, “It’s sharp,” before passing out on the grass. He looked at her for just a moment and then ran toward the circle where his friends were surrounded.

Though there were only perhaps a dozen creatures left, which should have been manageable, they had just been pushed too far, fought too long. And the result was a badly injured Shiki that could not maintain its dangerous tiger shape and kept shifting back into a housecat, a giant limping dog, two marksmen out of arrows, a tragic hero with a critical stomach wound, and a sublime, barely conscious, unarmed drummer.

But all they needed was a final push to get through to the end, and who knew that would be in the form of a nerdy storyteller with a sword of ice? Brand crept up behind the largest of the creatures and sliced its head off with his ice sword before anyone on either side knew what was happening.

That
was all it took to galvanize them to a final battle cry, whether to their deaths, or glory, or both.

Tessa regained consciousness as The Monster lifted her off the stage floor as if she weighed no more than a few blades of grass. He threw her across the stage where she bounced once before stopping. Tessa looked up at him as he walked toward her. “If you kill me now, you’re just going to be trapped in
this
world,” Tessa said, her voice wavering.

The Monster stopped quite suddenly and looked down at her, puzzled. “Scion, I’m afraid you’ve rather missed the point.”

Tessa’s muscles shuddered as she tried to get up. “Oh yeah?” she asked, her voice far more confident than the rest of her.

“I don’t want your world,” he said. “I mean, yes, I would have taken it, that was Plan B, but do you know how complicated that would have been? I couldn’t create the zombies fast enough to get a real apocalypse going, and really, they’re mindless, soulless things. Who wants to live in a world of only that? Plus, Circe? I couldn’t trust her. No. If you hadn’t undone my plan tonight, someone would have eventually, maybe even your Mortal military. They would not have been able to kill me, but as you said, with you dead it would have just left me trapped in your world, more alone than ever. And I’m sorry to say, but your world looks very much like my own, though your technology is quite enjoyable.”

“Then, what?”
Tessa asked confused, her muscles still refusing to obey her.

“Silly child. Plan A was simply death. My own. I want sweet oblivion and in it, the freedom of final release. But you are no killer, not really. I knew I would have to push you to the absolute edge. You would never grant me the death I seek without me driving you there. You needed to believe that I would take your world, would kill all that resided here, including all your friends, only then would you release me.”

“You’ve wanted me to kill you all along,” Tessa said, the enormity of it washing over her.

“Yes. In my own Story, I am granted the promise of death. But there is no hope for me, really. It’s all just artifice. A cruel trick of creation. I have no power over my destiny, I remain forever an outsider, shunned and feared, with no place to call home, no respite from being hunted, a monster to all who encounter me. Though you are beautiful and not at all hideous, you are saddled with many of my same challenges, especially for one so young.

“I thought you of all creatures might understand my plight, that you would grant me my release. See, like me, Scion, you live in two worlds but will never be accepted by either. If the Mortals ever find out who you are, you will never be safe from them. Stories already know who you are and fear you for the unholy creature you are. It’s the same for me, with the living and the dead.

“Of course you are very pretty. You can pass, unlike me, for a time at least. But it won’t last. And you know that the truth. You know inside that you will never again fit in, if you ever did. So have some mercy. Free me from my prison. Can you say you wouldn’t want the same?”

Tessa heard the shots before she saw them, but they ripped through his chest as ineffectually as if they were shooting a paper target. They must have hurt though, because he turned in a fury and lunged at Detective Wade, standing less than ten feet from him on the stage. He smacked her with one of his pan-sized hands, and she instantly
went down.

“No!” Tessa shouted, and willed herself up and moving toward them. The Monster held up a hand.

“She’s alive, Scion, but I can easily change that,” he said, turning to face Tessa and placing one of his tree-trunk-like boots precariously on Wade’s neck. All he had to do was step forward and he would crush her like warm butter. Tessa’s heart hammered in her chest, and she choked on a cry of pain and disbelief.

Detective Wade was her Advocate.

Tessa looked from Wade’s unconscious form under The Monster’s boot and tried to meet his eyes. She couldn’t stop the tears that rolled off her cheeks at the thought of The Monster killing Wade, of failing to save another Advocate in the same way she had failed Bishop.

“Please don’t do this. I, I need her.”

The Monster looked at Wade’s peaceful face and then back to Tessa. “It is your move, Scion.” His face softened. “This is a simple thing.”

“But it’s not,” Tessa cried. “I read your Story. It’s beautiful, it’s important. If I kill you, that will disappear. And it will damn your people.”

“What do I care about important novels? It’s my
life
. And not just my life, it’s the ability to be in charge of my own destiny. What happens to me—a person, even a Story—we should all be allowed to make that call ourselves.”

Tessa shuddered and looked down at Wade. Somehow his answer was more horrifying for sounding like something she believed in. Tessa looked back up at him, her eyes sad and conflicted.

The Monster looked down at Tessa’s beaten and bloody frame. “You have taken away the privilege of having my father look on as I surpass him, as I create a new world for myself, one he can never again touch, but I do not blame you. You’re full of honor and goodness. These are things to be proud of. I wish I had more of them myself. But still, you must release me. You must free me now. Your own code demands it. I have killed many of your Mortal people, and I will kill this one too.”

Tessa bowed her head. “I can’t…”

The Monster blinked at her. “You must, Scion. It’s not a choice.”

“It is!” Tessa said, angry now. “Don’t you see, you do have choice, you have it right now. To
not
do these things, to go on, as you are, to be better despite all that has been set against you. You have the power to prove them all wrong.” Tessa stepped closer to him, her voice desperate.

“No. It’s not possible. It’s too long. It’s too hard. It’s too lonely. You are seventeen, you have no concept of centuries, let alone the idea of infinity. You are kind to want to spare me despite all I have done, but the kindness I would ask for is a quick death. Release me from my suffering.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Tessa said.

The Monster laughed, a strange lonely sound. “A quick chop with your lovely axe should do it, girl.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tessa said, looking up at him. “This isn’t just about you. If I give you this, it changes the Mortal world in important ways that I don’t fully understand, it leaves everyone from your world stranded and homeless, wandering for eternity, the same fate you hope to escape. And for me—selfishly for me—it’s like admitting that I can’t ever win in this.”

“I see what you mean,” The Monster said, and reached out toward Tessa’s face as if he wanted to touch her, but he pulled back before he did. “I’m sorry about the scar,” he said, his voice genuine and terribly human. “That was a mistake, I didn’t mean to scar you.”

Tessa brushed tears from her cheek roughly. “I won’t do it.”

“Then I will kill this one,” The Monster said.

Tessa looked at Wade again, still unconscious under The Monster’s boot. He could snap her neck with a simple twist of his ankle. Just like Bishop. There was a long silence between them, and The Monster moved slightly.

“Don’t,” Tessa said quietly, choking on the word.

“Then give me what I crave, Scion.”

Tessa closed her eyes. “LA COLOMBE NOIRE!” she shouted, and The Black Dove materialized in her hand. She looked at The Monster and gripped the axe with both hands.