In Stone (17 page)

“There are demons in there?”

“Sort of. Rach is a half-breed. Harmless -- unless your intention is to hurt her. Then she’s not very nice at all.”

“Whoa, wait.” I snatch his arm and pull him to a halt. “A half-breed?” I’m also thinking Rach. Nicknames. How very cozy. “I thought being friends with a demon was a no fly zone?”

“Not a demon. She’s a half-breed.”

“And that’s not the same?”

“Not even close. She used to be a human, like you.”

“What happened?”

“She sold her soul.”

“No shit. You can actually do that?” He stops, looks at me like I just told him I’ve drowned a bag of kittens. “Just curious,” I add.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says.

“Is she going to be pleased to see us?”

“Trust me, I’ve known Rach for a very long time. She’s a rebel, ostracized from the Underworld and charged with guarding a gate for the rest of eternity. She hates demons as much as we do.”

Despite his assurance I clamp my hand into his. We’re at the gap in the wall. He slides in, side on, and I follow.

It’s tight; the air is close, and to make matters worse it’s pitch black. Thankfully, as we round a corner the warm, gold glow of candlelight smoothers the darkness.

“Rachael?” Jack calls out. Her name bounces off the walls, keeps rolling and rolling through tunnels I can’t see. It’s warm in here, despite the icy air outside. I can feel sweat starting to gather under my arms.

“Rach, are you home?” Jack calls again as we slip around a second bend and into the heart of Rachael’s cave.

It’s like an ant nest; there are tunnels and corridors everywhere. It would seem that Rachael likes birds -- collects them in fact. Real, live birds in all shapes and sizes that hop around and tweet from cages made out of mud and sticks. That would explain the pungent, dusty, poultry smell burning holes in my tonsils.

Rachael might be some sort of eco warrior chick because all her stuff is carved or crafted from raw, organic materials. It’s kind of cool. Jack makes his way toward the back of the room and veers left down one of the tunnels. I hurry after him. The tunnel leads us into a small room.

“Rachael.” Jack gasps.

At the same time, I gasp. “Gray.”

A girl is hanging from the roof by her ankles. She’s gagged and her hands are bound. She stares with eyes as big and as black as an abyss. Gray is at her side. She starts wriggling like a worm and squealing behind a length of duct tape.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl at Gray.

“Stopping you from making a mistake.”

“I thought he was gone,” I whisper to Jack.

“He’s immortal. Until he takes a hit from the knife, he’s never gone. Only beaten into submission.” Jack shouts that last part because he wants Gray to hear it, too.

“I was hardly beaten into submission.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, you ran away before I got the chance. You’re a disgrace. For you to own the knife would be a joke.”

“Where is it?” Gray growls through tight teeth. Neither Jack nor I say anything, but Jack takes a step forward.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Gray produces a dagger from behind his back. Rachael’s wearing a strappy vest. It’s the sort of top The Boob wears, cut right down so you can see at least a third of her breasts. He presses the point of the dagger against her pale skin, and Jack stops dead in his tracks. His fingers ball up at his sides.

I’m confused. I assumed Rachael was immortal, and it has to be an ordinary dagger he’s holding against her. Jack said that the white knife is the only one of its kind. But Rachael struggles frantically and starts whinnying from behind the tape. She’s afraid. “You take one more step and I’ll bleed this demonic bitch dry.”

“I thought you guys were all impervious to mortal weapons?” I say.

“It’s a long story,” Jack replies without taking his eyes from Gray.

“The short version?” I press.

“The short version is that Jack’s friend here is a half-breed,” Gray replies. His nose crinkles as if the word half-breed has conjured a bad smell. “Her human half makes her as susceptible to death as you. A half-breed can only live forever if it doesn’t get damaged. I only need her arms to open the gate which makes the rest of her body superfluous.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Jack warns in a low, threatening tone.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me the knife, and then she is going to take me underground. If you follow us, I’ll kill her, and then I’ll kill you and your little human sidekick.”

“Bite me, you piece of shit wannabe. Jack, if you don’t K.O. this clown, I swear to God…” I try to step forward, but Jack snatches my wrist.

My body is tense, my mind one track. I want to pummel the smirk off Gray’s face. Worse, I want to kill him. There is an animal loose inside me. The need to fight is coursing through my veins and setting fire to every inch of me. I’m back at the lake with Lisa. Gray’s laughter ripples around the room. Rachael yelps and a pearl of blood appears on the point of her skin where Gray holds the knife.

“You want the knife?” I open my bag with no intention of giving it up but instead hoping to find something, anything, that’ll buy me time.

“Beau,” Jack says. It’s a lasso, a rein to pull me back. I ignore him.

All I have in my bag is a toothbrush, a passport, a packet of chewing gum, a half empty bottle of water and my gamey-smelling shirt. I wish this were the A-team, and I had the smarts to turn these things into something brilliant, lifesaving. At best, all I can do is some sleight of hand. Carefully, I slide the knife up the sleeve of my chunky-knit sweater and grab the bundled up shirt.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired of all this,” I say to Jack and give him that low-browed, shifty stare that you see cops exchange in action movies. I hope he gets that I’m faking. Jack’s glare spears me. His eyes ping
pong back and forth. He’s looking for answers, an explanation.

“But, Beau?” he says.

Crap! He doesn’t get it.

I’ve never heard my name smothered in so much disappointment before. Yes, I have. That evening he first told me about the knife, and I blew him off. I have to say something, something that will let him know I’m not about to give it up. Light bulb.

“I told you. If the going got tough I was going to quit.” Please God, let him recall our conversation in the cave. His eyes shine. He gives my arms a squeeze, one quick squeeze that lets me know he gets it. I bite back a smile and shrug myself free from him.

“Why is it wrapped?” Gray asks as I start walking over. His hungry eyes are fixed on the wad of material in my hands. He sucks an excess of saliva off his bottom lip. Gray might think he’s all that, but anyone with eyes can see the chink in his armor is his desire for the knife.

“We had to keep it hidden from customs,” I lie. He’s too drunk on ideas of grandeur to question me.

I offer up the package to Gray. Slowly, he moves the dagger away from Rachael’s chest. Like he’s peeling back the pages of a priceless book, he unwraps the sweater. His breathing is erratic, his face twitching as if he’s got a bunch of termites trapped under his skin. He searches through the fabric but finds nothing.

“What is this?” he says. In a flash he grabs me and spins me around to face Jack. “Where is it?” he asks, pressing the dagger against my neck.

“Beau!” Jack urges, his eyes bugging. “What are you doing?” Gray’s chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate. Beads of his sweat are dripping on me.

“Tell me where it is. Tell me,” he yells into my ear. I let the knife slip back down my sleeve until the blade is exposed. My heart pounds as I gently press its point against his side.

“Hey genius, can you feel that?” I ask, giving the blade a wiggle. Behind me Gray turns to marble. “Is this the knife you’re looking for?” His fingers relax, and the knife that was at my neck chimes as it hits the cave floor. Jack is suddenly at my side, tugging at the knots that are binding Rachael.

“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he says.

“It worked didn’t it?” I grin.

“Demonic bitch. I’m going to kill you.” A female screams from my right. Rachael is free and trying desperately to get to Gray. She’s wild, hissing and spitting like a snake. Her jet-black fingernails are clawing at the air. Jack is the only thing stopping her from ripping Gray to shreds. If it were me I’d let her go.

“Rachael. Calm down,” Jack orders as he takes hold of her shoulders and shoves his face in hers. She wipes spittle of her lips with the back of her hand, and then spits a wad on the floor. Rachael is scary.

“You okay?” Jack asks after several seconds. She nods her head. Jack let’s go of her and takes a step to the side. This is a mistake. Her nostrils are flaring, and a vein in her forehead throbs. She’s absolutely not okay. A puckish grin pulls up the corners of her lips. I blink, and she vanishes.

“Rachael. Don’t!” Jack yells as she rematerializes in between Gray and I. The shock sends me stumbling backward. Rachael grabs Gray by the scruff of his neck and like a smudge they both vanish from the cave.

“Where did they go?”

Jack opens his mouth, but his response is halted by a loud clatter followed by a chorus of angry squawking birds.

“Stay here.” He dashes off at immortal speed. A zip; a blur in the air.

“Not a chance.” I follow with a sluggish, mere mortal jog.

The heart of Rachael’s cave is in complete chaos. Her birds have been liberated and are now parading around the kitchen, flapping about and shedding feathers all over the place. There’s no sign of Jack or Gray. Rachael, however, is holding her black pigtails back and spitting crimson into the sink. I notice a mark on her neck hidden beneath a tattoo of blue roses. It only catches my eye because I recognize it. My hand hovers over the mole on my stomach.

“So this knife, can it really kill the immortals?” Rachael asks as she wipes the stray blood from her lips.

“Yes.”

Rachael’s eyes narrow and she points at the knife. “This? This little thing can kill the untouchables?” She strides over to me. I tighten my grip on the knife handle. I don’t trust her. Unexpectedly, she snatches my empty hand and drags me out of the cave.

We step outside, just in time to witness Gray slam Jack -- face first -- up against the rock face. The air rumbles with the vibration. He pulls Jack’s arms up around his back. Jack’s eyes are shut tight. His cheeks swell, loaded with a cry he doesn’t expel. Tails are out, horns exposed. I look at Rachael.

“Keep watching,” she says. The two suddenly vanish and reappear in front of us. It’s like watching fleas jump around in a box. In one second Jack is flipping Gray over his shoulder, in the next he’s throwing him across the black desert like a Frisbee. Then they switch, and Gray is the one beating Jack to a pulp.

“We should do something.”

“Then we’re agreed?”

“Agreed upon what?”

Before I know what’s happening Rachael snatches the knife from me. I would try to take it back, but her head starts shaking from side to side. Her face is nothing but a dark smear. When she stops, I’m half expecting her to have transformed into something else, but thankfully, she looks the same. She takes hold of her chin and gives it a sharp tug. Her jaw pops back into place.

“Wow.” She looks at the knife like she’s holding the very meaning of existence in the palm of her hand. This is bad.

With lightning-fast reflexes she spins and pounces on Gray. Jack, bloody and panting, picks himself up off the floor. He looks over at me from miles away. Then suddenly, he’s right up close, tucking my hair back behind my ears and inspecting my face. I feel like I’ve just been frantically shaken from sleep. Everything’s been moving so quickly for the last five minutes my brain hasn’t really caught up yet.

“You okay?”

“Me?” He looks like a battered peach. There are pulsing, purple swellings on his face and puddles of deep red welling in various gashes. “Are you?”

“It’s all superficial. It’ll heal in no time.” And like magic the cuts are sealing as he speaks.

“Rachael -- she has the knife,” I blurt out as I spot her shadow in the background. She’s coming toward us. Gray is on the floor motionless. “Jack?” My voice shakes.

“Rach,” he says, spinning around and tucking me behind his back. He holds up his hands in surrender. The expression on her face is stoic. With the coordination of a frat boy after a weekend kegger, she keeps stumbling toward us. “Rach.” Her head tilts to the side as if she is confused by the sound of her own name. “Where’s the knife?” Jack says. Rachael drops to her knees. Jack makes to spring forward and help her but then changes his mind. Like a sapling caught in a strong breeze, she sways.

A cloud of dust bursts from behind her. Gray’s body has gone off the ground. She’s done it; she used the knife against him. Now he’s nothing more than twinkling flecks of dust hanging in the air and peppering the black top. I squint my eyes and see something out of place.

“I see it,” I call to Jack as I leg it over and scoop up the knife off the ground. I want to hug it, but I restrain myself. Jack is wrapping Rachael’s arm around his shoulders as I make my way back over to them.