ARC: Cracked (27 page)

And she’s right. Uri is dead, because I’m looking at him. His soul, stripped of life, creeps up the stairs, shining with a brilliance that hurts my demon-dark eyes. His face crumbles as he watches Jo and Chi. He takes a step towards them, then pauses and cocks his head as if someone whispers in his ear. He grins. Then he turns and shoots me a jaunty little wave before exploding into the sky like a firework, soaring straight towards Heaven.

With Uri’s light extinguished, the next hours are very dark.

When the doors open again, they come for me. There are six of them, but unlike the last party of naughty teenagers, these scuttle silently. Jo and Chi are yelling in defiance, but they might as well be tree frogs for all the attention they’re paid.

When the demons reach my cell, I’m ready for them, a seething pool of bubbling rage. I snarl and hiss and prepare to attack. The hate in the hole where Uri used to be roars. But the one in the lead waves his hands and I am frozen stiff. I can do nothing as they chain my arms behind my back and haul me out of the cage. Once I’m free of the bars a rush of demon strength pours through my veins, I am unfrozen but I cannot break the bindings, though I try. I thrash and kick and scream. As I go, my eyes meet Armand’s.

Give in
, he mouths, as they drag me away. I bare my teeth in response.

The demons force-march me up the twisting stairs, their hands wrapped so tightly around my upper arms that their nails dig in. I jerk and twist, trying to toss at least one off the stairs. I crave the crack of skull on stone, but they stay steadily by my side. At the top of the stairs stretches a hallway, but I can’t see where it leads because it twists and undulates like a snake. The ceiling arcs over us like that of a cathedral, supported by stone pillars and painted in a richly-hued fresco – a macabre version of the Sistine Chapel. Sconces illuminate it from below, dramatically highlighting some spots while leaving some parts sneakily in shadow. I don’t study the mural, but my brief glance captures beautiful monsters, fire and writhing humans. Teeth seem to be a prominent theme.

More hallways branch off ours and high-ceilinged rooms are visible through arched doors. My dishonor guard scuttles and crawls around me; the echo of our feet on the marble floor sounds like a drumbeat, like the bum-da-da-drum beat-out before an execution.

We turn off into another smaller tunnel, then a few more. Hall after hall looks the same and they twist and turn, climbing up and down, making it impossible to keep my bearings. Still, I optimistically try to memorize the way, in case I escape. Finally we come to a hall that is nothing like the others. It’s rectangular and small, and looks like it was hewn straight from stone. The walls are rough, more cave than hallway. It slants downwards steadily, and the air gets a little cooler.

At its bottom is a rusty, round metal door with a barred window in its center. It’s padlocked, but one of the demons, an androgynous creature in a crooked suit and heavy eyeliner, unlocks it with an iron skeleton key. It swings outwards, revealing a long stone tunnel. I can’t see the other end from where I stand.

I start fighting again in earnest. It’s pointless, six on one and with me bound, but I’m not one to make things easy. I arch hard and catch a woman on the nose with my head. Her nose crunches and she squeals. I smile at the sound. They may have the last laugh, but I’ll have this one. Two more demons replace her and they throw me into the tunnel backwards. I land hard on my bound hands, as they slam and lock the door. Again I’m caged.

I rock off my hands and realize the cuffs are gone. They just dissolved from my wrists. Demon magic at work. I jump to my feet and I push on the door. I shove with all my might but it doesn’t give. I scream at my escorts on the other side, but they stand impassive. I twist and take in my surroundings, looking for another exit. At the tunnel’s mouth, the endless black is alleviated by curtains outlined in light.

I don’t want to go towards the light. Seems like a bad idea, but I have no choice.

I can hear them now. Hissing and burbling. Giddy squeals. The crowd – not human, I realize, but a demon mob – awaits my arrival. Whatever they have planned for me will be a public spectacle.

I clench my fists and think of Uri. I will give them a show they will never forget.

I stride towards the curtains. With each step my outfit morphs and dissolves. My bloody shirt and ripped jeans are exchanged for a black ball gown that billows and swishes behind me. Like everything down here, its beauty is dark, sensual and wrong. The silk slithers and strokes, the beads are metal studs, the netted edges are uneven – torn, not cut. I am looking through a little veil on a cap like one would wear to a funeral. Not inappropriate, but usually the corpse doesn’t wear it. My footsteps on the obsidian floor turn from thuds to clicks as my sneakers become heels. I don’t stumble, I am too powerful, too graceful with the flood of demon energy. I am a sacrificial lamb dressed appropriately for the ceremony. But I am not a lamb – there’s a reason it has never been “sacrificial wolf”. My heart pumps. That dark side of me ignores the whole sacrifice part and focuses excitedly on being the wolf.

I reach the tunnel’s end and pause. The Hunger’s ready for the bloodbath, but the rest of me is not. There must have been a signal on the other side because the crowd hushes. All is silent, but for the thud of a heart beating its last in my ears and harsh breathing I realize is my own. I think of Uri. I think of revenge and my breath comes under control. I will die, but I will make them pay.

The black curtains swish open for my final act.

The lights are blinding and the crowd is deafening. They stomp, cheer and whistle. I blink and my eyes adjust. I’m center stage in an enormous arena. Seats tower around me, several storeys high, wrapping all around the circular floor where I stand. They teem with hundreds of demons, a roiling sea of black and white with brilliant spots of red. The floor is an intricate pattern of black, grey and white marble. On the far side of the arena, seated on a raised ebony throne, is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen. He looks near forty, but has the strong jaw and full hair of a younger man. He rests on the throne with the easy, confident posture of someone who gets what he wants. Elegant white stripes streak from his temples and, on his head, a steel and obsidian crown twists and stabs the sky. He stands at my arrival, rising fluidly to his feet, and strides forward, his black silk robe billowing behind him. He’s magnetic, dazzling.

I crouch and snarl. I will rip his crowned head from his shoulders.

He stops mere feet away and extends his hands.

“Welcome home, daughter.”

The crowd goes insane.

Not exactly what I’m expecting. It confuses me out of my crouch. “Daughter?” the word whispers out unbidden. I search the man’s face, but other than the white skin and dark demon eyes, I find nothing in his face of me. He smiles. Do I smile like that? I don’t know. My father. I have a father. A father who murdered my friend.

Uri.

Not my father – a sperm donor.

“We’ve had quite the time finding you.” Laughingly disapproving.
I am such a naughty girl, aren’t I, Daddy?

“How did you find me?” I stall so I can think. I don’t really care how they found me. It’s done and I’m here.

“Your blood. Hal-Karim tasted it the night you met.”

The demon that licked me. Was it only a few days ago?

“The sense of it was fading, as it does, so we lost you until you showed up in DC.” He smiles. “It’s destiny that you came here while he could still sense you.”

Destiny or stupidity. “You kidnapped me.”

“No. You aren’t our hostage. You’re our guest.” He waves his arms expansively and the crowd burbles.

“Ah, well, I was confused by the whole room-with-bars. Do you usually keep guests in the dungeon?”

He chuckles. I’m so cute. He raises his perfect eyebrows. “Would you have stayed otherwise?”
No.
“I needed a chance to explain.”

“You killed my friend.” Uri – my heart is his gravestone. His name is carved there.

To my surprise, the demon frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know what they were planning.” His eyes are as soft as their darkness will allow. “But you have to understand – he killed friends of those who killed him. You know how hard it can be to resist revenge.”

Oh, I know. My nails dig into my palms.

“They wanted to go after the rest of your friends, but once I found out, I put a stop to it.” He shows his teeth. “They were punished.”

He stopped them from killing Chi and Jo? “Why?”

“Why? I feel like that should be obvious by now, Meda. I don’t want to hurt you. You belong with us, your family. Your kind.”

I think of Uri. I understand the demons’ motivation – I pulsate with it. But I’ve never been empathetic. I’m hurting, my friend is dead. I understand, but I don’t care. I’m still angry. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t you, Meda?” He cocks his head. “Then where do you belong?”

“With my mother’s people.” But that isn’t true either. I don’t belong anywhere. “It’s great to meet you after all these years, Pops, but you’re a little late.”

“Meda.” He shakes his head. “I never abandoned you, I never knew about you.” His Beautiful eyes plead for me to understand. “She didn’t tell me – she just took off when she…” his mouth twists, “got what she wanted. We only just found out about you two years ago. A place was destroyed by a great deal of demon power, we went to investigate. It was your home, Meda. I recognized Mary… and you. We’ve been searching for you desperately since.”

They’ve been searching for me desperately for two years? A light explodes to life in my head – the big thing the demons are looking for is me. For a half-second I wonder if it’s because he wanted to find his daughter, and not because I’m a half-Templar.

But then I remember that it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter if he cut off a limb for me. Mom was the guiding star in my life. She wouldn’t want me to go with him. She hid me from him for years.

“No.”

“Meda, you belong with us.” His voice is stern now, as if explaining the obvious to a child. “Surely you know that. Your own nature screams for it. Don’t make me remind you.”

Remind me?

Suddenly the low burn that is my Hunger bursts to life with an intensity I have only felt once before. It beats, pulses and pounds through my veins. The crocodile becomes a dragon thrashing under my skin. The ravenous ache is all I can think about. My skin can’t contain it, my mind can’t stop it. It pulls my body into a stiff arch, my elbows lock, my knees turn to stone. It scorches along the web of nerve endings until every inch of my skin is on fire. I would peel it from my bones if it would end the pain.

But zi-Hilo is asking for something so much less.

“Beloved daughter, don’t make me ask this way.”

Then the fire has gone, as suddenly as a blown-out candle. I’m left weak and panting, but I no longer want to rip the skin from my body. That’s something at least.

His voice is soothing, cool after the fire. “You can’t tell me you aren’t one of us. The Hunger won’t let you lie.”

“Some,” I pant, “way to show you care, Pops.” Pain always pisses me off.

“You need to remember who you are, Meda. You’re not one of them.” He puts his hands behind his back and paces in an arch around me – but stays out of reach. Clever man. I turn away to show my disrespect, but follow him from the corner of my eye.

His voice changes from stern father to enticing salesman. “And, Meda, we can make it go away. Forever. No longer would you be a slave to your Hunger.”

I can’t help it, I look up at that.

He half-smiles. “Everyone here, Meda, is plugged into the source. We’ve a direct line to the afterlife. We’re constantly fed; we never feel the need, the pain. We’re never forced to murder.” His eyes crinkle charmingly at the corners. “Although sometimes we can’t resist.” The crowd chuckles.

Hungry, Hungry, Hungry. The word dances through my head. The intense, screaming agony is gone, but the Hunger is not. It’s banked but hot.

“And Meda, if you don’t join us, we can’t let you go. You’re too dangerous.” He pauses. “But I could never kill my daughter.”

I shiver. His words are sweet, the intent is not. I will be locked here forever, not plugged in. Daddy’s a shrewd negotiator. He showed me a preview of what I will eventually suffer. Locked up, no source of “food”. Eventually I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I would join to make the agony end. I would have no choice.

“No.” The stupid word comes out.

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

I don’t answer him. I owe him for nothing but a set of chromosomes. Somehow he knows why, anyway.

“It’s your mother, isn’t it? She turned you against me.”

I almost laugh. It sounds like such a normal, divorced-parent complaint.

“Meda, I didn’t want to have to share this with you, but…” He shakes his head in regret. He suddenly waves his arm. I duck instinctively.

“Meda, I’m not going to hurt you.” He acts surprised at my reflexive cowering, like I should know he wouldn’t hurt me. I try to pull myself together enough to give him the snotty face he deserves, but his next words steal all interest in that. “At least, not physically.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

A movement from above his now-empty throne calls my attention. A projection screen suspended on thin cables is descending from the ceiling. Some of the demons clap, excited for whatever show is to begin. There’s some squealing as those seated behind the screen climb over others to try to get to a place where they can see. Light shines off their shiny silks and satins as they move. My father raises his hand and they go quiet and still.

“I think there’s a lot you don’t know about your mother,” he says to me. “She was a guest of ours eighteen years ago. Captured and held captive. She succumbed to the charms of an incubus.” He waves at himself, then his face twists. “Or so we thought.” I don’t know what he’s saying. My mom didn’t sleep with him? I’m not half-demon?

“But she didn’t succumb, Meda. She
seduced
.” He pauses, giving the information a chance to sink in. He’s wasting his time, because I won’t believe it. Mom? Seduce a demon? It doesn’t make any sense.