Vault of Shadows (27 page)

“I ran into her while I was out doing my business,” said Shark.
“And yes, I'm traumatized, thanks for asking.”

“I was not spying on you,” said the tree girl quickly. “I am here seeking the keeper of the sacred jewel.”

“Wh-who
are
you?” stammered Milo.

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “You are a Daylighter.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Where is the werewolf?”

“Actually,” said Shark casually, “she's right behind you.”

The tree girl spun and Milo hurried out of the boxcar. Evangelyne was crouched down, eyes blazing and teeth bared. Beside her was Mook, who had his rocky fists balled. Shark, with a snarling Killer beside him, stepped a few paces back and raised his pulse pistol.

“No!” cried the stranger, raising her hands. “I am a friend and I come only in peace. I will tell you my name if you swear not to conjure with it.”

“Conjure?” echoed Shark. “Geez.”

“We're not much for conjuring,” Milo assured her.

“Mook,” said Mook.

The wolf growled and then shape-shifted to human form. “By the Goddess of Shadows we swear not to conjure with your name,” she said tersely. “But play false with us and we will roast our breakfast on a fire made from your bones.”

“Harsh,” murmured Shark, though there was admiration in his eyes.

The tree girl straightened and with great dignity said, “I am Fenwillow Longleaf of the House of Salix. This forest is my home.”

“Milo,” said Evangelyne, “is this the spirit you told me about? The one you saw?”

“I think so,” said Milo. “Yes. Yes, I'm pretty sure.”

The wolf girl took a threatening step toward Fenwillow. “Why are you spying on us? Speak truth. Lie, and I will know.”

Fenwillow's movements were quick and nervous, and she flinched back from Evangelyne until she bumped up against the boxcar. The leaves that formed her long hair were clearly from a weeping willow, but her skin was much smoother, and Milo thought that maybe she was very young. A sapling, if that word applied to tree spirits, and her eyes were almond-shaped and slanted, giving her a vaguely Asian look.

“I will tell you true,” she said. “I also swear by the Goddess of Shadows.”

Evangelyne relaxed by one sliver of a degree. Speaking with even more than her usual formality, she said, “Then speak. Be quick, girl, for we are in a hurry and time is not ours to waste. Why have you been following us and why do you ask about the dark heart?”

“There have been whispers through the leaves and vines,” said Fenwillow. “Evil roams the land.”

Shark made a sour face. “Really? No kidding.”

“We know that,” snapped Evangelyne, pointing
sharply in the direction of New Orleans. “The world is being torn apart by an alien swarm.”

“No, that's not what I meant,” said Fenwillow quickly. “I speak of an evil that is of
this
world. Or . . . mostly of this world.”

Evangelyne shot a brief look at Milo. He gave her a tiny nod in return, knowing what was coming.

“The
Aes Sídhe
have wearied of their own world and wish to return to ours. Not as allies in this war but as conquerors,” said Fenwillow. “Queen Mab has summoned her greatest sorcerers and seeks to bargain with a demon the like of which I have never seen. He is half man and half monster, but he is not a Nightsider. Nor a Daylighter, either. He is a necromancer and he is the most savage and horrible thing I have ever seen.”

“He is called the Huntsman,” said Evangelyne. “We already know of him. And we think that Queen Mab is either deceiving him or working out a deal of some kind.”

Fenwillow said, “Oh, a deal, to be certain, and a black one. They have been speaking to each other through faerie rings. They have been trying to devise a spell powerful enough to tear open the way from the realm of the
Aes Sídhe
to our world.”

“You're sure they're working together?” asked Milo.

“I'm positive,” she said, then added, “though I don't know if it started out that way. An owl who is a friend of mine said that at first they fought with one another, each struggling to dominate, but then this Huntsman offered
the queen a deal. He promised to free her and give this world to her in exchange for her using her faerie charms to lure a perfect sacrifice into the toadstool ring.”

“They tried and failed,” said Evangelyne, nodding to Milo. “This Daylighter boy was saved before the spell could be completed. And there was another attempt that failed too. A girl, another Daylighter, was nearly lost to the queen and this Huntsman, but somehow survived.”

“I'm glad to hear that your friends survived,” said Fenwillow. “Not everyone has been so lucky. This necromancer has already spilled blood in failed attempts to gain power and break open the door to Queen Mab's realm. And I fear he will spill more unless he destroys himself in the process.”

“That'd be great,” said Shark. “What are the odds on that?”

It was Evangelyne who answered. “A magic circle can be used as a channel to allow ancient and very dark energies to flow into one's own body. To fail even once is to die and be utterly destroyed. But to try and survive? Every time the Huntsman survives a conjuration, he becomes more powerful because he allows more dark energy into his soul.”

“I really, really, really,
really
don't like the sound of that,” complained Shark, and Milo agreed.

“This Huntsman must be mad, for only a madman would ever attempt that process,” said Fenwillow.

Evangelyne nodded. “We are not talking about the life
energies of this world, or the natural forces that run like breath and blood through the planet. No, such a spell can tap into the force of pure, destructive chaos.”

“Wouldn't that destroy the Huntsman?” asked Milo hopefully.

Evangelyne chewed her lip. “Only if he makes a mistake. He is no magician, no sorcerer. His weapons are science. He
wants
to use magic, but without the Heart of Darkness he cannot possess that power. Performing spells of this kind
should
tear him apart. They are not meant for mortals, and the Huntsman is no Nightsider.”

Fenwillow interrupted her. “He could survive the rituals if he makes the right kind of sacrifice.”

“Whoa,” said Shark, “what does that mean?”

“It means that if the Huntsman makes an acceptable offering, the darkest of ancient powers will protect and reward him.”

“Yeah, but what kind of sacrifice are we talking about?”

“An innocent soul,” said Fenwillow. “A pure soul. They are rare and precious, and the act of destroying one releases vast and terrible powers.”

“What would they have done to Milo if he hadn't gotten out of there?” asked Shark.

Fenwillow glanced at Evangelyne. “For a human sacrifice? Would he have used a firedirk?”

Evangelyne shivered. “Almost certainly. Making one is not easy, but Queen Mab could have taught the Huntsman how to do it.”

“Firedirk?” asked Shark. “Ugh . . .
that sounds nasty. What is it?”

“A firedirk is the weapon of a necromancer. It allows him to drink the life energy from his victims. When used as a sacrificial blade, it kindles the fire of true magic inside a human heart. Especially in a dark, dark heart. With such a weapon, a necromancer can speak to the dead and force them to betray any secret they possess, and it can give the user a measure of control over the slain.”

“Geeeeez,” breathed Milo, his pulse quickening. “Do you think that's how he controls the holo-men?”

“I don't know much about science,” she admitted, “but if he is using the dead as his minions, then yes. Nothing else makes sense. The firedirk would give him the power to force the dead to obey him, to share their secrets, and to betray their friends.”

“The one I met wasn't anyone I knew,” said Milo. “But he looked like my dad.”

“I know, so this is something new. Something the Huntsman and Queen Mab must be creating together. A new form of magic that blends sorcery with science. The firedirk must be more than a sacrificial knife; perhaps it allows them to share their energies. It is a terrible weapon of evil.”

“What's it look like?” asked Shark.

“A firedirk is a long-bladed thrusting dagger,” explained the wolf girl. “In certain kinds of magic spells, the steel of the blade is transformed into a special kind
of fire that burns as cold as ice. Although the blade looks like it is composed only of fire, it cuts like ordinary steel. However, the magical fire is there to sever the connection between the victim's body and their soul. The firedirk transfers that energy into the person who wields it, increasing their magical powers. It is one of the easiest ways for someone to gain such power, but it is the very darkest of magic. Among my people, anyone committing such a sinful act would be destroyed.”

They all stared at each other, shocked and horrified by all of this. Milo tried to wrap his mind around the idea of such a blade stabbing into him and draining his life away.

Suddenly Evangelyne cried out. “By the Goddess! Now I understand. Now it all makes sense.”

“What does?” asked Shark.

“What blind fools we've been. The faerie rings should have told me, but I was too upset about the Heart to listen. Goddess of the Shadows, I'm an idiot.”

“Stop ranting and tell me what's going on,” ordered Milo.

“The faerie rings,”
repeated Evangelyne. “When you told me about what happened to you, Milo, I thought it was an attempt by Queen Mab to enslave the Huntsman in the way a wizard might enslave a demon, but that's not it at all. We're looking at this the wrong way around. I think this is all about the Huntsman. I think
he
was the one who reached out and offered a deal, to Queen Mab. But he's so sly, so cunning, and he's so careful. We
know this about him. If he has become a necromancer, then he would never risk releasing the
Aes Sídhe
unless he could control them, and he couldn't control them unless he already possessed magical powers.”

“Right,” said Milo, “but he tried that twice and failed twice.”

She looked at him with deep sadness in her eyes. “Did he, Milo?”

“Of course. Killer saved me, and Lizzie never went all the way into the circle.”

“Milo, don't you see it? Queen Mab tried to lure you inside the circle, probably as an offering to the necromancer who promised to help free her. I don't think they ever planned to kill you. Did you see a flaming knife in the Huntsman's hand as he materialized?”

“No.”

“Then I'm right, and a dark night is falling for all of us.”

“What are you taking about? He
didn't
stab me. The spell was broken. They failed.”

She shook her pale hair, and beside her Fenwillow looked terrified.

Evangelyne touched Milo's arm. “When you saw Lizabeth in the woods, you said there was a cut on her blouse. Show me where.”

Fear was beginning to claw at the inside of Milo's chest. He touched his chest, just off center of his sternum. “Right here.”

“And she was covered in blood?”

“
Well, I thought so, but there was no mark. Not even a scratch. She showed me.”

“There wouldn't be, would there?” whispered Evangelyne. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and two tears broke and fell down her cheeks. Beside her, Fenwillow also hung her head and wept tears of sap.

“Oh, Milo,” said the wolf girl, “I am sorry. I am so sorry for not having seen it. For not having known. For being so wrapped up in my own problems that I did not see.”

“See
what
?” yelled Milo, though he realized that he already knew.

Shark got it too, and he put his face in his hands. “No, no, no, no . . .” His big body began to shudder with heavy, silent, wretched tears.

“That is where a necromancer would stab with a firedirk. Right there at an angle so as to pierce the heart.”

“No!” growled Milo. “No way. I saw her. I talked to her.”

“So did Shark at the bolt-hole, and no one can be in two places at the same time, Milo,” whispered Evangelyne. “Only spirits can do that.” She paused as a sob broke in her chest. “Only
ghosts
have that power.”

Milo suddenly felt as if the ground were falling away beneath his feet. He staggered sideways and reached out for the edge of the train car doorway. Missed it. Grabbed nothing.

Fell.

Fell hard.

Fell into a heap.

He tried to yell the word “no.” To shout it loud enough to make the world change back, to fix the hole that was now burned in Milo's life. A hole shaped like a little girl with wild hair. A girl only two years younger than himself. A girl who was a bit mad and a little strange and entirely innocent.

He tried to say “No!”

Instead he said her name. Or rather, he screamed it.

“Lizabeth!”

T
hey sat on broken crates inside the boxcar. They all knew that time was flying past them, but for now they could not move. Fenwillow, who could not bend enough to sit, stood against the wall near the door. For a long while no one said anything; then Shark begged them to explain it all. He kept crying and Killer leaned against him, whining piteously.

“I
saw
her,” Milo kept saying over and over as he shook his head.

“You saw her ghost,” said Evangelyne. “And it's very likely you saw the ghost of the Daughter of Splinters and Salt. If Lizabeth died on her shrine, then their spirits would have become mixed. Entangled. I've read about such things. The Daughter has been dead so long, she has no body left and probably no memory of it. That . . . or maybe she took Lizabeth's form so that she could fool you.”