Wild Ride (46 page)

“
Almost
being the key word,” Oliver said, and Mab jerked around to see him behind the door with some kind of wood filler, spackling in the holes from that side.

“Hi,” Mab said, and turned back to Cindy, glaring at her.

Cindy leaned forward and whispered, “I wanted him to hear you say you were over Fun, not get into the sex stuff.”

“Well, you didn't
tell me that
,” Mab whispered back, and then turned back to Oliver. Possibly if they all pretended he was deaf . . . “So, did Glenda tell you about Old Fred's trailer—?”

“Moved in last night,” he said, his eyes on the door. “That was thoughtful of you to ask her.”

Cindy snorted over her book.

“Something interesting?” Mab said, going to look over her shoulder and kick her on the shin.

“Ouch,” Cindy said. “Well, the Sorceresses are evidently the whack jobs of the Guardia. You would not believe what this woman thinks is real.”

“Actually, I'm a lot more open-minded about reality these days.” Mab squinted at the book. “You can read Italian?”

“No,” Cindy said. “But I can read most of this. And Oliver
can
read Italian, and he can't read it.”

“Magic,” Mab said.

“Whack job. But good recipes.” Cindy straightened. “So what's the plan for tonight? Because tonight is the last of it, right? Tomorrow we go back to normal?”

“Sure,” Mab said. “It'll be like none of this happened. Except I'll still be pregnant, and you'll still be making dragons, and Glenda will still be
pretending that Dreamland is Cancún, and Weaver will still own the only green velvet demon in captivity. Other than that, perfectly normal.”

“I just meant no demons trying to kill us,” Cindy said. “My baseline for normal is a lot lower than yours.”

“A low bar benefits everybody,” Oliver said, his voice cheerful as he moved to the other side of the door to finish spackling.

“So we have a plan, right?” Cindy said.

“We're taking turns watching the chalices. Weaver's got first watch today, then Glenda, then Young Fred, then Ethan. You and I are supposed to keep the Dream Cream and the Oracle running until closing, when we take the last watch.”

“Okay,” Cindy said. “I'd feel a lot better if we had some kind of super-mojo.”

“Keep reading, then,” Mab said, and headed out to the Oracle, stopping by Oliver on her way out. “Nice job on the door.”

He looked up, his face as serious as ever, just different without the glasses. “When you're partners with Weaver, you get handy about fixing bullet holes.”

“I can imagine.” Mab hesitated, trying to find something to say that wasn't lame. “We really appreciate your help, especially the part where you saved our butts. I know you don't believe in shooting people—”

“In general,” Oliver said. “It's not a hard and fast rule.”

“—and I know you have no investment here, so it's doubly appreciated.”

“I have an investment,” he said, still spackling.

“Oh,” Mab said.

Cindy snorted again.

“I'll go open the Oracle,” Mab said, and headed for the midway, cursing the luck that had saddled her with Fun as her one true love instead of . . . well . . .

Frankie flew down to her shoulder.

“Delpha was always right, right?” she said to him. “If she says Joe is it for me, he's it?”

He dipped his head.

“Maybe she was wrong this time,” she said, and headed for the Oracle booth.

 

D
arkness was falling and Kharos was growing impatient. He was so close—

Ray came scurrying out of the tree line, the government woman with him.

“They've been looking for me all day,” he complained as soon as he arrived.

OF COURSE.

Ray looked over his shoulder. “You sure this is going to work?”

YES.

Ursula had a clipboard in one hand, a video camera in the other, and a bag slung over her shoulder. She looked officious and confident.

Ray was the smarter one. He looked uncertain and worried.

Down the midway, Ethan walked toward them.

BEGIN.

Ray went over to one of the legs of the Devil's Drop and began to climb.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Ursula said. “For my report.”

NO,
Kharos said, and concentrated on Ethan.

 

E
than and Weaver saw Ursula standing next to the Devil's statue and Ray's bulk halfway up the Drop.

Weaver raised her voice. “Hi, Ursula.”

Ursula turned in surprise, and Weaver pointed the large muzzle of Ray's gun at her. “Make a move,” Weaver said. “Please.”

Ursula stood as still as the statue until Beemer dropped out of the sky with a complete lack of aerodynamic grace and landed on the statue's head, making Ursula scream and then frown as she saw what he was.

“That's a stuffed dragon,” she said.

“No, no,” Weaver said. “That's the bluebird of happiness. Touch it and you'll lose an arm.”

Ethan looked up and saw Ray's large butt disappear as he reached the top of the tower.

“Step away from the statue,” Ethan ordered Ursula. “Don't shoot her,” he reminded Weaver.

Ursula shuffed a few steps away, keeping an eye on Beemer, who chittered at her, giving away the little minion soul inside the velvet and lamé.

“Got it!” Ray's voice echoed down from the top of the Drop.

A panel on the back of the statue rotated open, and Ethan felt a blast of evil wash over him as he walked behind Ursula and grabbed the chalice.

Beemer chittered faster.

“There are minions in the tree line,” Weaver said, looking that way through her goggles.

“Then we run,” Ethan said, and took off toward the midway, Weaver behind him, Ray shouting curses from the top of the Devil's Drop and firing ineffectually at them with a new pistol. Beemer launched himself from the empty devil statue, labored to attain altitude, and dive-bombed Ray, giving them enough time to get out of range, not that Ray's markmanship was anything to worry about.

Which was odd, Ethan thought as he pounded toward the Keep. The guy was a Ranger. He should have been able to hit them, no trouble at all.

Glenda and Young Fred were waiting on the other side of the Keep drawbridge, and as soon as Weaver and Ethan ran across, they raised it, Beemer swooping in just before it clanged shut, to drop like a sack of potatoes onto the stone floor.

“We've got the last one,” Ethan said as he raised Kharos's chalice.

“I'd rather get Ray,” Weaver said flatly as Beemer climbed up her body to sit on her shoulder, giving the chalice the same unenthusiastic look, dragon-style.

“Lock it up,” Glenda said, taking a step back.

Ethan took the stairs two at a time and opened the armoire. He placed Kharos in the center of the other four chalices, then swung the door shut and locked it. There. All of them. The park was safe.

Why hadn't Ray shot them?

He came back downstairs. “Ray is still out there with Ursula. And some minions. He's up to something.”

“
Now
can I shoot Ray?” Weaver asked.

Ethan nodded. “Let's go get him, Ursula, and the minions.” He turned to the others. “Lock up after us and let no one other than Guardia in.”

“We've got it,” Glenda said.

“Okay,” Ethan said, but he felt uneasy.

Ray really should have shot them.

 

M
ab had shut the Oracle at six and begun to walk through the darkening park, running into Oliver almost as soon as she stepped down onto the midway. He had his glasses on again, which made him easier to talk to but was disappointing at the same time.

You are hopeless
, she told herself.
First you fall for a demon and now for a government agent with weird glasses who turns into a dragon.

“Hi,” she said, and fell into step beside him. “See anything?”

“Minions. They're lying low.”

“How many?”

“Maybe half a dozen so far. Of course it could be a couple just shifting from host to host, too. I think they're doing the same thing we are.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“Watching,” Oliver said. “Nothing has happened all day. Weaver called me and said they got the Kharos chalice locked up in the Keep. If I didn't have goggles, I'd say the demons were gone.”

“They're waiting for something,” Mab said. “Ethan's midnight.”

“I'll feel better when we're locked in the Keep with those damn chalices.”

“I'm not sure I will,” Mab said. “But if I see the sun come up tomorrow and nobody else I care about dies, that'll be a good day.”

Oliver looked at his watch. “We've got about twelve hours till sunup. Let's get a funnel cake.”

They walked through the park, eating food that tasted like summer, talking about demons and Delphie and prenatal care—“You're a doctor?” Mab said. “Why does that sound like a line?” and then she blushed because what would he need a line with her for?—and the moon came
up as they talked and walked, watching for demons, moving closer to each other as the temperature dropped, the fires in the barrels along the midway working with the orange lights to make Dreamland a fantasy hell, screams and laughter, fire and funnel cakes, dates and demons.

“I love this place,” Mab said, and Frankie cawed his approval from her shoulder.

“I know,” Oliver said. “It gets to you.” He smiled down at her, briefly, a flash of a smile that made her breathless in a way Fun's crooked grins never had.

Fun made me happy
, she thought.
Oliver makes me hot. And with the worst timing in the world.

Get away from him.

“I need to get back to the trailer. Frankie needs . . . pistachios.”

Frankie cawed his approval of the plan.

“So I'll meet you at the Keep,” she went on, and he said, “No, you shouldn't be alone. I'll walk you.”

“Okay,” Mab said, and tried to think cool thoughts as they headed for the trees.

And prayed Oliver would keep his dumb glasses on.

 

K
haros felt the lid of his chalice loosen and then—

Expansion.

He stretched out his arms as he broke free, no longer bound within wood and iron, and raised his head and laughed at the sheer power of it all.

Before him, in the round room at the top of the Keep, Young Fred, the Guardia traitor, cowered.

“
RELEASE THEM ALL
,” he said, and Young Fred hurried to do his bidding, first Vanth, rising up in blue smoke, her face blissful over her beautiful, free body; then Selvans, stolid, orange, and enraged; then Tura, writhing in blue-green glory, her great, long, muscular tail flipping as she swam free through the air; and finally Fufluns.

Fufluns. Eight feet tall—they all grew taller and stronger as the next was released, which was the only reason to ever set Fufluns free—golden-horned, golden-eyed, and a pain in the ass.

“
WELL, WELL,
” Fufluns said. “
THE GANG'S ALL HERE.
” He folded his arms and stared down disdainfully at Young Fred. “
BEAT IT, YOU LITTLE TICK.
”

“I just want everyone to be free,” Young Fred said, but he backed out of the room anyway.

“
NOW WE ARE ONE!
” Kharos said.

“
OH, YEAH,
” Fufluns said. “
I'M FEELING THE BOND.
”

“
TODAY IS HALLOWEEN,
” Kharos said, ignoring him, “
THE DAY WHEN THE BOUNDARIES BETWEEN OUR WORLD AND THE WORLD OF THE CATTLE SOULS IS WEAKENED. TODAY, WE ARE MOST POWERFUL. TONIGHT, WE WILL
RULE THIS WORLD.
”

“
THAT'S LOVELY, DARLING,
” Vanth said, gliding up to him and sliding her arm around his waist. “
WE'LL BE SO HAPPY.
”

She stretched up and kissed him, and the warmth from her embrace, her body, her mouth, flooded through him, and he lost his place in his speech for a moment.
VANTH
—

“
AND JUST HOW ARE WE GOING TO DO THIS?
” Fufluns said.

Kharos drew himself up, taller than the trickster demon, still holding Vanth. “
WE WILL
OPEN THE HELL-GATE.
”

Selvans nodded, grim but approving; Tura smiled as if she were confused; and Fufluns closed his eyes and shook his head.

Kharos glared him down. “
WE
WILL
OPEN THE HELL-GATE.
”

“
FINE
,” Fufluns said. “
WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY
.”

“
IT ISN'T ABOUT HAPPINESS,
” Kharos snarled at him. “
IT'S ABOUT
POWER
. IT'S ABOUT
FEEDING
. FEEDING ON ALL THAT DESPAIR, FEASTING ON HOPELESSNESS.
” Vanth was frowning now, pulling away, so he added, “
WHAT?
”

“
WE ARE GOING BACK TO HELL, AREN'T WE?
” she said.

“
NO,
” Kharos said. “
WE'RE SENDING THE CATTLE SOULS TO HELL. WE WILL REMAIN HERE, RULING DREAMLAND, GATHERING MORE SOULS, SOULS UPON SOULS, FEASTING ON THEIR DESPAIR, UNTIL THE EARTH SUCCUMBS TO US!
”

“
THINK OF HELL AS A BIG FREEZER,
” Fufluns told Vanth, “
FULL OF UNHAPPY MEALS.
”

Vanth turned to Kharos, distressed. “
BUT WHO WILL TAKE CARE OF THE SOULS IN HELL?
”

Kharos glared at her. “
WHO CARES?
” She shrank away from him, and he forced a smile. “
WE'LL BE TOGETHER HERE. WE WILL RULE TOGETHER HERE!
”