ARC: Cracked (24 page)

I can do the math. Six sections, the shortest at fifteen seconds – so the longest is eight minutes and agonizing. My face must convey what I think of that, because she pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. I find Jo’s attempt at being understanding the scariest thing of all.

“In any case, no matter how much it hurts, you have to hold still – or we have to do that part again.” She flexes her fingers and shakes them loose. I’ve never seen her so nervous.

I nod to show I understand. She needs to calm down or I’m toast. “It’s a good move in the long run,” I say encouragingly.

“Right,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.

I force a smile. “Hey, Doctor – surgery doesn’t ever feel good, but it’s good for you.” I call back our discussion on intention, letting her know I trust her.

She smiles back weakly, but it fades as she kneels next to me. She shuffles her notes one last time. She pulls her knife from under her jacket and with a deep breath cuts across her palm. I smell the blood as she rubs it between her hands, washing them in it.

Her mouth tightens as she meets my eyes. “If this winds up killing you, it was an accident, I promise.”

I must look terrified because the corner of her mouth kicks up and she ends by teasing, “And… well, I told you so.”

With that promising remark, she presses her hands to my chest and I burst into flames.

SIXTEEN

I wear napalm-soaked skin; my bones are fire-heated iron. My blood boils. A scream sticks in my throat like vomit, strangling me. Still my mouth opens, trying to do its part.

I lock eyes with Jo. Her calm face hovers over mine, telling me without words that I am not actually on fire. I try desperately to hold still, going rigid in my attempt, but shudders rack my body. Only the fear of having to go through a second of this ever again makes it possible for me to stay under the brutal heat of those small hands.

It occurs to me that maybe my body can’t live through this. Maybe the demon half makes this process impossible and I am lying here in agony, dying, doing my best to sit perfectly still as I am roasted alive. But no, they told me it would hurt and Jo’s face is so calm. A cool pool in a world on fire.

Besides, it’s too late now.

So I go away. I drift through paintings I love, I swim through the swirling blue of
Starry Night
; I twirl through O’Keefe’s flower petals.

I stay away from red.

Time creeps and crawls. I spend a month in Dali’s
Persistence of Memory
, playing with melted clocks, a year among Van Gogh’s
Irises
. I dance through Picasso’s
Guernica
. I avoid
The Scream
.

Then, just as quickly as it started, the fire is extinguished. I open my eyes and see Jo’s worried expression. “The first part is over. How do you feel?”

“Great,” I croak. I’ve never felt less great in my life. She knows it and smiles.

“Then time for part two.” She reaches out with her hands and I have to bite back a scream. She stops when she sees my face. “Four minutes. That’s all, half as long, half as bad.”

My breath is still coming out in panicked gasps. My body does not want round two in any way, shape or form. I force my breathing to slow. The worst part is over, it’s all downhill from here. No matter what happens, I don’t have to repeat that segment. The worst is over.

I stare at the fluorescent lights recessed into the ceiling. One more breath, then we go for part two. She reaches for me and I cringe away.

OK, two more breaths.

No, three.

“Meda – today.” Apparently Jo can only do sympathy for so long. I give a stiff nod, but as she reaches forward, the light I’m focused on flickers out and we are dropped into darkness.

“What’s happening?” I ask and, trembling, pull myself up.

“I don’t know,” Jo whispers, alert and staring into the hallway. Chi’s already in action, moving out to investigate. Uri follows him out and goes across the hall to an office with a window.

“All the power’s out,” Chi calls.

Uri turns towards us from the window he’s peering out of. His face is white with moonlight and terror.

“They’ve found us. I think…” his voice breaks, “I think we’re surrounded.”

Jo and I jump up, panic pushing the pain from the forefront of my mind. Jo grabs the grimoire off the desk and we all run out into the library. Unspeaking, we each take a wall, moving between bookcases to peer out of windows. How is it possible? How could they have found us?

I don’t know how, but they have. Black suits, two to three deep, ring the building as far as I can see. They stand stiff and silent, black shapes in the black night. I can feel it now, the swell of power, unnoticed while I lay in burning agony. Not as many as were at the school, but if the building is surrounded… then there have to be nearly a hundred. I run to another window, and there are still more. I seek out Jo and Chi, shaking my head – no escape this way. They repeat the motion. We’re surrounded.

“Meda,” croons a sing-song voice from multiple throats. It’s low, soft. It slides through the broken window. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

I back away from the window. Chi, Jo and Uri do the same, coming to meet me in the middle.

“What are we going to do?” I whisper.

“Come out, Meda, or we will come in.”

Chi answers, “Uri and I will hold them off–”

“You expect me to just run–” Jo starts but Chi cuts her off.

“No. I don’t want you to run. I want you to finish casting the spell on Meda.” He switches to me. “Let’s hope you’ve got some badass skills or we’re all dead.” Then Chi locks eyes with Jo, weighing her reaction. “Then you can come back and we’ll fight side by side.”

This startles Jo and her eyes get big with a happiness that really doesn’t belong in our present situation. “Really?” she whispers, hoping but not quite believing.

He squeezes her arm. “Really.”

“Meeeeeeeda,” the demons chant, sing-song and almost sweet. Jo grabs my arm and hauls me back to the office.

“I’ll try to leave some for you,” Chi calls after us.

Jo slams and locks the door behind us. We hear shattering glass as she shoves me back down into the circle. She awkwardly climbs on to the desk and shoves the grimoire into a ceiling panel, then half-jumps, half-falls to my side.

I have no time to take a breath before I’m on fire again.

Half as bad as the worst pain I’ve ever felt is still awful. And this time, I cannot go away to hide among the paintings I love. I need to know what’s happening. I keep my eyes open and fight to stay still, but it’s like trying to keep your hand on a hot iron. Not impossible – that’s as much as I can say. Not impossible.

I hear fighting in the main room, grunts, screams, more breaking glass, crashing furniture. I hear Uri’s childish scream, and Jo’s eyes pop open and her chant hitches. She half-rises like she wants to run, but I grab her hands before we lose contact. She looks back at me, her eyes burn as hot as my skin.

The fighting gets louder as the pain dials down. We’re on to the next section – two minutes. By comparison, this feels only like the worse sunburn I can imagine. Dull and throbbing. Less to distract me from the movements in the next room. The demons are in the hallway, but not to our door yet. Chi, at least, must still be alive, still holding them back. It’s not clear about Uri.

Chi yells for us to hurry, but two minutes is two minutes. I hear Chi shouting orders, not to us.

Uri’s still alive.

The pain ratchets down again – this section’s only a minute long. The rhythm of Jo’s speech changes and I can almost feel the excitement in it. I grip her wrists. Bodies slam against the walls outside the door, and a picture crashes to the floor by my head.

There are two more hard slams, then a strangled scream, cut short. A human scream. We both recognize it instantly, though it’s not a sound I ever thought I’d hear from him.

Chi.

I see things in Jo’s eyes I will never forget.

Demonic cheers echo in the hallway and a body slams into the locked door. Tears run down Jo’s face, sizzling as they hit my skin, but she doesn’t stop. We’re on to the next set, only thirty seconds here, then fifteen more and it’s complete. The words flood from her mouth. The door explodes, and we break eye contact to watch, though Jo keeps chanting. The pain dials down. Fifteen seconds, that’s all that’s left. Fifteen seconds. A middle-aged man enters, dumpy and dark-haired. Jo needs to stand and defend herself, but she doesn’t. She stays on the floor where I lie, finishing the spell. Her fingers dig into my skin. There can only be seconds left.

He smirks and rubs his hands together, then with a hiss, he jumps for us. Jo waits to the last possible second, but has to break contact before she can finish the spell. She dives behind the desk as I roll towards the door, and the demon dives over me. He goes for Jo and I jump him from behind. I drag him backwards by his hair as Jo guts him. I drop the body and Jo passes me a knife. I fight down a shudder of revulsion, but hold on to it.

More demons bubble through the door like yellow jackets from a hive. The small room is our best asset because they can’t all attack at once. Jo and I fight at right angles to each other, our shoulders bumping, keeping the desk between us and the door.

We manage to take the next two around the desk, but behind them, more stack up. One launches himself over the desk and I turn to face him head on. He impales himself on my knife, but the force of his dive slams me into the bookcase behind me. I shake him off just as another one dives – this time on Jo, who’s already trying to hold off two coming around the desk. I rush forward and haul him off, twisting until she and I are back to back. Another one comes over the top of the desk and drills into my side, sending me sideways. The demon swings at me and I duck. I hear Jo scream and twist in time to see her go down. I jump at her attacker, stabbing into his back.

But that leaves my own back exposed.

A brutal weight slams into the base of my spine and my legs give out under the pressure. I land on Jo, the dead demon between us, and our eyes meet for a brief second before I am hauled off her and slammed into the bookcase. The world goes dim as blurry shapes bubble over the desk in a wicked waterfall, blocking the light, blocking everything. I struggle, but sharp hands pinch and grab, pinning my arms to my sides.

The demons cheer and chirrup and I am loaded overhead and carried out on a river of demons. I twist and thrash, looking for Jo.

Please let her be alive, please let her be alive
.

The sweetest sound reaches my ears – swearing fit to make a rapper blush. Jo’s alive. I twist and spot her, carried as I am.

The narrow hallway squeezes our captors together and Jo reaches out her hand and I jerk my arm free and grab for it. We just touch fingers and she starts to mutter, still trying to finish the spell, but we are wrenched apart almost instantly.

With a squealing cackle, the demons slam me to the floor and my breath leaves in a whoosh. The last thing I see is a polished dress shoe poised for a kick. Pain explodes in my head, flashing red.

Then black. Shiny black, like the tip of that shoe.

SEVENTEEN

I lift cement eyelids. I’m not dead. Hands press unevenly beneath me, lifting me, like I’m floating on a wavy pool. Flickering candlelight illuminates a ceiling painted with grey, red and cream. Writhing naked bodies, monsters, fires, blood and storms. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be an image of an orgy or Hell. The walls are black and slick.

I rock my head to the side. The two dozen creatures dancing around and seething under me aren’t the same suited suburbanites who captured me. These creatures are young and wickedly beautiful. Lithe, dancing creatures, in stylish suits and gowns. All black, grey and red. I don’t understand.

“What’s happening?” I try to say, but it’s slurred. Fortunately, the nearest woman makes it out.

“Ohhh, don’t recognize us?” croons the elegantly evil creature. Her voice hums along my bones. “Those are our disguises.” Her red lips curl into a smile. “Middle-aged people in suits can get away with anything. An invading army of demons looks like a banking convention.” She laughs, a husky sound that gives me goosebumps. “Now our true forms.” She indicates her beautiful, skimpily clad body and spins. “Well, anyone can see these are meant for no good.”

“Where are we?” My voice is a little clearer now.

“We’re off to zi-Hilo.” That wicked, sensual smile again. “He has plans for you,” she sings and strokes my face, long nails rasping across my skin.

“Where are my friends?”

“Shhhhhh, now.” She lifts her hand and opens her palm. She purses her lips and blows me a kiss. Whatever is in her hand dusts my face and I sink back into darkness. “Nighty-night.”

The first thing I become conscious of is the cold. A cold so deep my bones ache. I lie on a slab of ice. I try to move, try to open my eyes but I can’t. I’m encased in ice. My breath comes fast and my heartbeat races, adrenaline rushes.

My eyes snap open. Everything’s black. I wiggle now, the ice was all in my head, but I’m still cold. I pull myself up and notice I feel nothing but cold and stiff, not super-powerful. Quite the opposite, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been. And so Hungry it gnaws on my insides like a rat. But how can that be possible? It should have been weeks before it feels like this. How long have I been out?

My eyes start to adjust but I almost wish they wouldn’t, because what I see isn’t promising. Black floors, black ceiling, black bars – a cell. I push myself to my feet, but stumble.

The floor is a mosaic of black glass, but the tiles aren’t square, they’re all slightly… off. Not quite square, not quite anything else, just askew and oddly angled. They’re polished to such a high shine that they work as black mirrors. A shattered Meda stares back at me from beneath my feet. The wall behind me is the same, as is the ceiling. There are no other walls to my cell, only bars. Outside my little cell are more cells, oddly shaped and arranged randomly with walls jutting out at odd angles. The ceiling is all different heights, low where I am, but in other areas multiple storeys. One is only two feet high. Anyone in that cell would have to lie flat. The dungeon is lit only by cone-shaped sconces that shoot bluish light to the ceiling. The room is a cave of shadows and dim mirrors.