The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (25 page)

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

E
dward managed to hold onto consciousness as Dante pulled him along.

“You're looking a little green,” Dante said once they were well inside.

Edward put his hand to his head and took slow breaths. “I may have overdone it.” He leaned against the wall as he wrestled with the pain. In the distance he could just hear the faint sounds of the battle. They were inside some kind of office area that had long been abandoned.

“Don't mean to rush you, but time is sort of pressing,” Dante said.

Edward drew in another series of slow breaths. The buzzing sound in his ears faded, and the pain at last began to ease up. “I'm okay, let's go.”

He followed Dante through the ruins of cubicles as the sounds outside faded.

“It's quiet,” Dante said, looking around. “Too—­”

“I really hate movie quotes.”

Dante chuckled.

“And elves who laugh and make jokes in the face of death.”

Edward matched Dante's steps as quietly as he could, which, compared to the elf, was like a herd of stampeding elephants wearing tap shoes. The farther they ran, the more severe the darkness grew. When they came to a door and Dante raised a finger to his lips, Edward could hardly see it, but he complied.

Dante put his ear to the door for about a week.

“I think it's clear on the other side,” he finally whispered.

“You think? Is that supposed to fill me with confidence?”

Dante shrugged and eased open the door. As all doors in these situations are wont to do, it creaked at about a hundred decibels. Dante stepped through first and Edward followed.

On the other side, the darkness became complete. Even the little light that leaked in from the office area windows didn't reach here. The door creaked shut, and they were swallowed in blackness.

Since he was completely blind at this point, Edward stopped moving. He knew that the fear of darkness was just instinct and ancient in nature. It came from the time when animals that found humans quite tasty waited in the night. He also knew, practically speaking, that humans as a species weren't far removed from those times. Sure, he understood the psychology behind it. However, knowing his fears were purely evolutionary didn't remove the desire to wet his pants.

Once more, he thought of Caitlin and Fiona and reached deep inside to the warm and comforting feelings. He allowed it to wrap him in a cloak against the fear. His mind calmed, his breathing eased, and the pain from his injuries was pushed back to the periphery of his senses.

There weren't many options, so he focused. “
Tân
.” Flame enveloped his hands, and light was cast in an impotent circle around him.

It did help, a little. After all, for nearly as long as bad things wanted to eat humans, humans knew fire could keep those things away. He couldn't help but wonder if any of those primordial fears were because of faeries.

With another exertion of will, careful to keep it under control, he pushed more power into the flames. They answered by growing brighter, and the circle of light around him grew.

“Well, so much for the element of surprise.” Dante stepped into the light.

“I kind of thought the war raging on the curb took care of that.”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Get behind me and watch the rear.”

Edward turned and backed up until he felt Dante against him. He surveyed the area as best he could. The only sounds were their breathing and the crackling flames on Edward's hands. Slowly, Dante moved forward, and Edward matched him step for step.

“Look out!” Dante shouted and twisted to one side, bringing his sword up as he did.

Edward dove to the ground, and as he tumbled to his back, he saw an oíche leap into the light. The oíche barely avoided Dante's sword, but missed with her own. The oíche landed in a roll, sprang to her feet, and ran back into the darkness.

“I don't know about you,” Dante said, “but I'm already sick of this game.”

“Agreed,” Edward said, getting to his feet. “At least they're not just shooting us, though.”

“Great, give them ideas.”

“You think that hasn't occurred to them?” Edward concentrated on his left hand, whispering a word of power. Fire swirled from his palm and gathered into a ball, which he hurled into the darkness. It exploded a moment later, lighting a large section of the massive room for a split second. It was devoid of anything except oíche, who had them surrounded.

Dante let out a sigh and shook his head. “Well, shit. Bet my stocks are down, too.”

“Ever the eloquent Magister,” a feminine voice said from the darkness.

“What can I say? I'm witty like that,” Dante replied. “If you want to come here, we can trade banter.”

“Can I get in on that?” Edward asked.

“Sure, why not?” Dante said. “That'll be fun, we can get everyone—­”

“Shut up!” the voice shouted. “Just kill them both, it's almost done. Then we'll deal with the ones outside.”

“If you've got a magical ace up your sleeve,” Dante said, “this would be a good time.”

Sweat began to run down Edward's face. He was running on empty, but at this point, what was the risk? They were going to die if he didn't do something.

“
Lluosi tân,
” he whispered. Flame engulfed his hands once more. Several small globes of fire lifted from the dancing flames and began circling Edward and Dante in a rapid orbit. He concentrated and tried to empower the globes like the wards, letting magic flow directly into the globes instead of through him.

He gave it a little nudge. “
Ymdeithio
.” A trace of magic drifted from him to the globes, which then began splitting, like a presentation on mitosis done in fire.

“That's not bad,” Dante said.

Soon hundreds of little comets were circling them and spreading out, casting nearly the entire room in light. Though Edward wasn't feeding them magic, he was holding them in orbit, and even that small effort was causing him to struggle. He was just too weak. He'd used too much, too fast, and he could almost sense the oíche waiting for him to tire. He had to assume they were out of bullets. After all, they hadn't shot them.

“Well,” Edward said through gritted teeth. “Are we going to spend all day here?”

In answer, several oíche dropped from the ceiling inside the circling wall of flame.

Dante went after the one nearest Edward. He spun, and his blade severed the oíche's arm.

That distracted the oíche long enough for Edward to smack his face with a flaming hand. The oíche gave a look of surprise before being consumed in fire. The faerie fell back, and both the oíche and the fire vanished in a cloud of darkness.

Dante had already turned on the others that had dropped when more figured out the trick.

Edward's hands were shaking now. “Get down.”

Dante dropped to the floor.

Edward brought his hands together, and the circling wall followed his command. The spheres began launching themselves at right angles, streaking straight across the circle instead of orbiting it.

Oíche dove in all directions. Some were hit in midair by the flaming globes, which splashed like napalm and stuck. Others were hit by the spatter, and while it didn't consume them, it did stick, it did burn, and, going by the screams, it did hurt.

In moments, oíche were flailing with arms and legs ablaze, shrieking and trying to put out the fires. Some slapped at their faces, trying in vain to extinguish the flames. A few were truly determined and charged at Dante and Edward in spite of the fire.

Dante moved with the kind of grace and skill that would make a prima ballerina hang up her slippers. His silver blades glinted as he cut down oíche, avoided their attacks, and dodged the flaming orbs that were flying back and forth.

Edward, meanwhile, was doing his best not to pass out, trip, or be burned by his own fire again. He did get a lucky hit with his hand-­fire on an oíche that had backed away from Dante, though.

As the last one close to him vanished in a cloud of darkness, Edward noticed the rest of the oíche were keeping their distance.

“They're stalling us, it's a distraction!” he said.

“Well, it's a good one.” Dante dodged swipes and grunted in pain as a claw raked over his face. He scowled and, in a flash of steel, felled the oíche.

“We need to find the wizard,” Edward said. “Time is running out.”

“I'm open for suggestions.”

The oíche were keeping them at arm's length, not risking a full-­out mob attack but rather dragging out the fight. Edward needed to clear the oíche out of the way so he and Dante could make a break for it. He looked around for something to give him an idea, but it was just a large warehouse with occasional I beam columns. It was empty.

He looked back at the closest I beam. “I have an idea, but it's risky.”

“Well, don't do it, then,” Dante said. “We're much better off here.”

Hoping that was sarcasm, Edward hurled the flame from his hands at one of the I beams. The fire stuck and began to heat the metal. He waited a few seconds and hoped that was enough to soften the beam. Then he extended his hand, scraped together the meager power he had left, and focused it.

“
Haearn
!”

Rivets tore from the I beam supports and shot across the room like bullets, striking the oíche. There was a series of surprised, pain-­riddled shrieks from the darkness. This time, only the tiny lights could be seen, but it was still satisfying.

“Um, I'd run.” Edward broke into a sprint for the far end of the warehouse.

Dante was right behind him, and then ahead of him as the building began to groan.

First one I beam collapsed, and a section of roof fell in. That stressed another I beam, and a chain reaction started. Dante and Edward ran, trying to keep ahead of the wave of destruction. The oíche fled, desperate to avoid the falling debris. When the collapsing stopped, both Edward and Dante turned around. There was a massive hole in the ceiling, and night sky shone through, moon and starlight illuminating the heap of broken and torn metal.

Edward let out a breath of relief.

The wretched sound of pained groans came from the pile of debris. It shifted and hands appeared, most trailing motes of light from dozens of wounds. The oíche began pulling themselves from the rubble, faces and bodies black and charred where the iron had burned them. They turned hate-­filled eyes onto Edward and Dante.

“Go. Stop the wizard,” Dante said. “I'll keep them off your back.” He drew the gold sword from his belt and handed it to Edward.

Edward just looked at him.

“I said go!”

Edward took the sword, but he didn't know where to go. They'd reached the far end of the warehouse. He looked around and saw an elevated office at the corner. Letting down his guard for just a moment, he felt the pull of magic being drawn into it. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could. When he reached the top, he was gasping for air, but he used his forward momentum to bash into the door with his good shoulder. Thankfully, it gave and flew inward.

He stumbled into the small room. All the furniture had been pushed clear of the center, where a huge circle was drawn in what he hoped was red paint. The metallic taste in the air told him it was probably blood. In the center of the circle was the crystal. On the opposite side of the circle from Edward, a man was getting to his feet. He had thick red dreadlocks that went to his shoulders. His skin was deep brown, and when he looked up, Edward could see that his eyes were two different colors, one blue and the other green.

“You're too late, wizard,” Akhen said. “In moments, the ritual will be complete and the oíche will be free. I will have my payment, and this one will be mine.” The voice was deep, but it had a strange tone, as if he were speaking while breathing in instead of out.

“
Tân
!” A pathetic ball of fire coughed from Edward's hand at the crystal. Pain lanced through his head, and he fell to his knees. The fire struck the circle's invisible barrier and fizzled into nothingness. Edward cursed his stupidity, swallowed down the rising pain, and slowly got to his feet.

Akhen laughed. “You'll hardly be worth the time it will take to kill you.
Tenebrae
!” Darkness swirled in the air and large black tentacles stretched out from it, reaching for Edward.

He dodged one and cut it down with the golden blade, which went through the tentacle and dropped it to the floor. Nothing but black goo remained. This minor victory, however, was short lived as the remaining tentacles reached for him. Moving first one way, then the other, Edward was able to avoid them. He slashed with the blade when he could, which wasn't often. Leaping out of the way didn't lend him many chances to strike back, and his strength was fading fast.

Akhen laughed, turned his attention back to the circle, and began chanting.

Inside the crystal, small orbs of light swirled faster and faster. It began to shake and melt away as if it was a candle.

Edward was drained, and even the coat wasn't helping anymore. To top it off, the ointment was wearing off, allowing his pain to grow a little more intense each time he twisted, leapt, or moved too fast. He was running out of time, and his options were limited. Not to mention the fact that dodging black tentacles didn't allow much time to think of an option. When the solution came to him, he wanted to kick himself for not doing it first. He waited, and when a tentacle shot forward to grab him, he spun and jumped toward the circle, blade extended to the crystal.

Pain so intense that everything went white ripped through his body as another tentacle, one he hadn't seen, grabbed him around the torso. It squeezed his burned and torn flesh in a viselike grip. He screamed as his muscles convulsed, torment shattering the last of the ointment's dulling effects. His vision began to fade from white to black, the iron grip on his stomach and chest mixing with the agony that kept him from drawing a breath.