Keys and Curses (Shadow Book 2) (34 page)

“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

“Only since I met Fitz.”

“Yeah well, I’m warning you right now. When the time comes for Krysta to come back here, I don’t want you putting her in any of these kinds of fights.”

Nikifor remembered that girl and how she’d taken on the vampires with only a curved wooden stick and almost broken his head. “Er–did you happen to notice she appears to like fighting?”

Clockwork snorted. “Of course she does, she’s half Bloody Fairy. But she’s the only kid Hippy and I will ever have, so just don’t you go getting her killed, or I will hunt you down and end you.”

Nikifor glanced at his companion sidelong. He had little doubt the man could and would do just that, half his size or not.

Clockwork put a finger to his lips and indicated the tunnel ahead of them.

Nikifor couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, but he listened. Indistinct sounds reached him. Tapping, perhaps. Muted voices.

“The mine is not far that way,” Clockwork whispered. He glanced behind them. “And Ishtar should catch up soon. Somewhere here there’s a side tunnel. We can sneak in. Well, I can, you’re too big. You’ll have to use the main entrance.”

“Are you sure there’s a tunnel?” Nikifor eyed the blank wall doubtfully.

“Mate I grew up in here. I was gonna work in here like everyone else until my dad took me to Dream. Here it is.” Clockwork half-disappeared.

“See what you can do to free your family,” Nikifor said. “I’ll distract everyone else.”

Clockwork winked. “Meet you on the other side.” Then he disappeared.

Nikifor continued alone down the tunnel, so busy worrying about why Clockwork was treating him as a potential suitor for a girl who thought she’d dreamed him he almost fell down the stairs into the mine. He caught himself just in time and stared out over the vast underground operation.

The endless silver sea made the Quicksilvers’ mine look like a paddling pool. The length and breadth of the lake was criss-crossed by iron frames that held in place at least ten enormous wheels. Each wheel engaged in ponderous turns, picking the silver up in buckets taller than Nikifor and depositing it in vast iron pipes that creaked and rumbled like thunder. He couldn’t see the carts that took the silver away, but he knew they could not be far.

Hundreds of Freakin Fairies worked silently, their faces drawn and resentful. Many were scarred by whiplashes and brands. Others bore open, gaping wounds on their throats. Here and there bodies lay motionless underfoot, whether dead or asleep he couldn’t tell.

In and around them, surrounding the machinery and the lake and the teams of fairies, swarmed more vampires than Nikifor had seen since the Vampire Wars. Their silver masks reflected the colour of the lake, making it seem the quicksilver had come alive, turned itself into a brutal, evil army. He wondered how the king had bent the vampire nation to his will. It never would have happened had Rustam Badora been alive. Then the vampires had been slave to his will alone.

The anger, never far from the surface, crashed over him. Flower could already be in the hands of that monster, the Tormentor, the creature who had driven him to insanity for years and years and years. The familiar urge built in his blood, in his guts, into his throat. He knew the curse would force its way out of his mouth, but this time he didn’t care. He was the Muse Champion, the only one in Shadow who could take on this many vampires and live. He could, and would, put a dent in the king’s plans today.

“Die you rotten vampire scum!” Nikifor leaped down the stairs. He swung his axe. Blood spurted.

He had no idea how long he fought. Once he thought he was out in the middle of a moonlit field, fighting for his life against thousands of vampires, the ruins of the Bloody Fairy fortification clawing the sky behind him. For that one moment it felt like the night the king had returned from Dream with Hippy Ishtar, the night he’d worked magic with some ancient treasure and light had ripped away the night, blinded him, destroyed every vampire it touched and driven back the rest. The night the king and a fairy had saved Shadow.

A vicious blow in the face from a vampire fist jolted him back. Nikifor stumbled. His vision went double and there were twice as many Moon Troopers pressing in on him. Hands of steel dragged him under. Expressionless masks peered down at him, so many of them they blurred and turned to a sheet of silver. He thought for one mad moment he’d drowned in the lake and would be encased in silver forevermore.

Then his vision righted itself. The masks slid into focus. Moon Troopers pinned his arms and legs to the rock floor. Sparks crackled from the end of an upraised lightning rod.

A piercing whistle split the cave, distracting the vampires for just half a second. Nikifor jerked out of their hold, but barely succeeded in shaking them loose before the iron grip of their hands dragged him to the ground. He caught a glimpse of Ishtar and her fairies streaming into the cave before the vampires swamped him again. His axe glinted in vampire hands. The lightning rod cracked and he was hit in the back with what felt like a house. He jerked three times, his limbs beyond his control, but not his senses. Foul, stale smoke filled the already dank underground air. He knew that smell too well, but there was nothing he could do.

His vision hazed. A woman bent over him. Her hair brushed his face. Her voice was devoid of anything, anything at all. “That’s him. That’s the one the king wants. He’ll have to be kept unconscious until we get there.” Her hand grasped his hair and yanked his head up. “Ran out of luck this time, didn’t you?”

Horror. The king. The Tormentor. If once he allowed himself back in that monster’s power, he was done for. He fought the darkness, but he couldn’t move a finger, much less a limb, to fling them off. How did this happen? How did he fail? He was meant to be the Champion.

Something groaned and shook the cavern.

Nikifor clawed his way back to awareness just enough to twist his head and see one of the huge iron frames lean at a drunken angle.

A Moon Trooper gave a strangled yell. Nikifor jerked so suddenly he tore free of half of the hands holding him, and then he saw what was happening. A crowd of Freakin Fairies across the lake, led by Clockwork, had thrown themselves against the supports and forced it out of its mooring.

“Stop them!” A Moon Trooper roared.

The vampires surged away, but it was too late for most of them. Nikifor watched in horrified fascination while a massive bucket swung crazily from its hook, spraying silver over the shores of the lake. It struck the iron and split apart. Silver exploded in every direction.

He yanked himself free of the vampires with a final effort, but in the chaos they tripped him and dragged him down again. Silver rained on the heads of the crowd, pouring closer and closer. Pieces of the bucket plunged to the ground, one impaling a Moon Trooper through the ribs.

The raging battle on the other side of the cave sounded like a distant spat between tomcats. Vampires screamed when the silver hit their clothes and froze them forever. Freakin Fairies cheered a wild, fierce battle cry.

Nikifor watched the silver rain over Moon Troopers who were touching him. He dragged himself out again, somehow wrested his axe from a dead vampire. This time someone grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him from the grasping hands. He popped free like a cork from a bottle and dived behind the shelter of a jutting rock while the silver rained down on the spot where he’d been trapped.

Nikifor sat in the darkness, taking deep breaths, his eyes closed. Latent panic spiralled from his gut. “I think I just sat in the gaping jaws of gruesome death!” he yelled.

Fitz, sitting next to him, patted him on the shoulder. “That you did, mate. That you did.”

Nikifor exhaled, a long, shuddering breath. He looked at Fitz and saw the strain on his friend’s face. “You saved my life.”

“Thought you were already dead for a minute there. Come on.” Fitz jerked his head at the raging battle.

Nikifor crawled out from behind the rock. Moon Troopers lay dead in piles, their gleaming masks the only thing left uncorrupted by the silver that pooled slowly, inexorably outwards. In the rest of the cave the battle raged on between fairies, vampires and false muses. The Bloody Fairies were vastly outnumbered, but they’d made serious dents. The Freakin Fairies freed each other from their tasks in order to join the fight. The machinery ground to a slow, shuddering halt.

“They hardly need us out there.” Fitz gave Nikifor a cheerful grin and stepped into the battle.

There was a puff of smoke. The grin dropped from Fitz’s face. Something protruded from his chest. He looked down, bewildered, and touched a bloodied blade. He looked back at Nikifor. “What?” Then he dropped to the ground.

The blonde false muse stood behind him, still holding the dagger. She smiled at Nikifor, a thin, evil curve of the lips. Her eyes gleamed nothingness from behind the curtain of hair. “What’s the matter?” she said. “Someone just kill off the entire Invisible Army? Not so invisible anymore, huh?”

The anger erupted. Nikifor opened his mouth and roared. He swung the axe at her head, but she disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Then, for a while, he knew nothing more except the swing of the axe, the splash of blood, screams. The floor under his feet was slick with vampire blood. His axe buried, again and again, in masks and coats and flesh. His own skin and clothes were coated with a sticky layer of red. His hair turned to blood-clotted ropes. Vampires fell wherever he went, but the blonde puff of smoke he sought eluded him until finally, she was right there, a ball of crackling fire in each hand, her back to him, her attention on Ishtar. Smoke wisped from her shoulders.

“Die,” Nikifor said.

She whipped around to face him. “What?”

“Die.” Nikifor brought his axe down, but before he struck, the false muse crackled. Her face contorted and she burst into flames. She screamed once, a terrible, tortured sound, then disappeared.

Nikifor whipped around. Balls of fire exploded throughout the cave everywhere a false muse stood. Shock froze him where he stood, until a vision as violent as the battle around him brought him to his knees.

He saw Flower, clear as day. He’d never seen a look of such concentrated rage on her face. She smashed the machine of his nightmares to rubble with an iron bar.

“Flower!” he yelled.

But lost in her own destructive fury, she didn’t hear him.

Nikifor saw the Tormentor lying unconscious on the floor. Elation so sudden it was terrifying burst on him. She’d figured it out. She’d beaten the king.

And then he was back in the cave, on his knees on blood-covered stone. He leaped to his feet, ready to fight again.

Clockwork appeared in front of him, holding his hands up. “Whoa, mate, stop.” The Freakin Fairy grabbed the handle of the axe and lowered it. “It’s alright. You’ve done enough. We’ve won.”

Nikifor dropped the axe and looked around. On every inch of floor lay dead and dying vampires. There were fairies among them, some, but not too many, and somewhere, Fitz.

His breath caught. His ribs hurt. For that one moment, Nikifor remembered why he was terrified of himself.

He remembered why he needed the Vibe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shazza’s vulnerable moment passed as quickly as it had started. She scowled down at Pierus. “Are you sure we can’t kill him? He’s going to be really pissed when he wakes up.”

“I’m sure. Let’s get out of here and find Pinky.” Flower grabbed Pierus by the collar and dragged him through the door that was now blasted from its hinges. She dropped him at the top of the stairs, since it seemed a slightly safer place than near the smouldering machine.

Shazza’s mouth tightened. Her lip curled back. “I hate you,” she said to the unconscious form. “You stole my life. I know you said it wasn’t much of a life to lose, but it was mine, you bastard.” She aimed a savage kick at his ribs.

Pierus rolled over, teetered on the edge of the stairs and then bounced down them, one by one, only coming to a halt on the second floor landing.

Flower winced, but somehow she didn’t think that was going to kill the king. “Come on,” she said, and descended the stairs two at a time. “She must be on the second floor somewhere. That’s where she went last.”