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Thanks,
Ki
The Fourth King Part Three
Despite the feeling of impending disaster, Chatoya slept soundly. Either jet lag had caught up with her, or she was becoming worryingly nonchalant about threats to her life.
She came down to a scene of domesticity: Aurenna and Jepar were making breakfast, engaged in a sort of odd dance about each other in the narrow kitchen. Fruit was being diced, and the smell of good quality coffee, rich and sumptuous as dark chocolate, filled the air.
"…met some of your cousins last time I was in England," Aurenna was saying. "Lapsang, is it? And Debbie, although your aunt called her-"
His grin gleamed. "-Darjeeling. Yeah. She changed her name. How are they?"
"Same as all your family. Smile like angels to your face and deal like the devil behind your back. I'm fairly sure the Jubatus file has trouble written on it in red ink." She sounded more amused than anything. "Lapsang wanted to know if we were recruiting."
Jepar shook his head woefully. "She would. Complete thrill-seeker. Please tell me you said no."
"I told her part of the initiation was shaving off your hair."
He gave a crack of laughter. "Ouch! Hit her where it hurts, right in the ego."
"Mmm." Aurenna sliced rapidly through bananas, the flashing knife mere millimetres from her fingers. "She didn't ask me again. The little one, though - Jasmine...she's got a spark."
"Don't." Jepar's voice was grim. There was sudden tension in his shoulders. "Let her be."
She paused: through the steam of hot coffee, her expression was distorted, but Chatoya thought she glimpsed pity. "We might be good for her."
"Like you've been good for Toya?" he said, the retort flicking out like a whiplash.
"Yes," she said with a dignity that Chatoya had to admire, no matter how misplaced it might be. "Exactly like that. And speaking of, good morning, Pursanguia."
Aurenna turned her head – those golden eyes pinned her, firm and quite unreadable. Chatoya knew the shapeshifter only by hearsay, which covered the truth as carefully and completely as a mummy's wrappings.
"Morning," she said, returning her smile with one just as pleasant and empty. "Where is everyone?"
"Bane and Kurt are tidying up a few loose ends for tonight," Aurenna said. "Sunny's out in the garden, running through her morning exercises. Jepar, could you go and get her? I need to wash my hands. Bananas are stickier than you'd think."
"Sure." He vanished out into the hallway.
Aurenna turned to the sink. The spluttering tap was enough to mask her next words from anyone who might be listening.
"They don't like us much, do they?" she said, mild. "But they're not afraid, either. Very unusual. Do they think you'll protect them?"
Chatoya stared at her back, wishing she could read this woman better. "No. They know better."
"I wonder." She patted her hands dry. "You made a bold decision, bringing them. You could have brought Vaje or Lance, or even Aspen. But no. You chose two outsiders. Why?"
"I wanted people I can trust," she answered. There was no point in lying: there was nothing else Aurenna would have believed.
"But they may not be good enough."
"They'd die for me," she said, and then gambled. "Like you'd die for Sunny."
Aurenna was still. Then, very deliberately, she shut off the tap in one sharp movement, so the silence cut onto them like a guillotine. "Yes," she said, her voice harsh.
She turned: and her face was unexpectedly vulnerable, familiar somehow. Then Chatoya understood why: she had been three or four, and she'd wandered off in a mall. She'd been a little scared, but the security guard had been kind, and there were toys in the crèche.
But her mother...
Her mother had come flying in, and the look on her face when she saw Chatoya – it was frightened and hopeful and fierce all at once. Later, she understood those crashing clashing emotions, love under fire, but then she hadn't, she'd only known that her mother had hugged her so hard it had hurt.
Aurenna wore exactly the same expression.
"How long has she lived with you?" Chatoya asked softly.
"Seven years. She was five when Blue asked me to go to Delhi. Just this little scrap, all eyes and smile. I didn't mean – I didn't expect..." She scrubbed a hand through her hair, which bounced back into disordered spikes. "I never wanted kids. It was a job, that was all. Then it was a job that wasn't as bad as I thought. And then it was a job I enjoyed. And suddenly it wasn't a job at all – it was just my life, me and Sunny and then Kurt, and I was so far away from the Furies that I almost forgot them."
Chatoya couldn't remember that life, really. It had existed: there had been a house with a cherry tree, and parents who were more than words on a headstone, but it was vague and distant now, like the small self-contained world of a snowglobe.
"Then the call came from Bane." Aurenna's smile had a twist of bitterness. "And even though she was never really mine, I'm afraid that when it's all over, Sunny won't be my little girl anymore."
"Yes, she will." She kept her voice low: footsteps echoed down the hallway. "Did you ever stop being your mother's daughter?"
Aurenna hesitated. Her face softened, somewhere between sorrow and nostalgia, and beauty flared briefly upon her like sunlight slipping through clouds. "Never."
"'Renna!" Sunny burst into the kitchen, flushed and bright-eyed, towing Jepar behind her. "Jepar won't let me practice on him."
"Not before breakfast," agreed Aurenna serenely above Sunny's disappointed sigh.
"Not after, either," said Jepar hastily.
Aurenna's eyes narrowed. Her look was measured, taking him in. "Not with Sunny, no."
That didn't bode well.
oOo
"This should be entertaining," remarked Blue as Chatoya settled into the shade beside him. She left a proper distance between them, but even so, her eyes drifted to the patch of flattened grass where he'd thrown her last night. "If brief."
"Why can't I fight?" said Sunny. She was pretty in turquoise, but the flowing top slid off one shoulder and bared a set of parallel scars: claw marks. Clearly bored, she was sketching patterns into the dry grass with a knife. "I'm good enough."
"Undoubtedly," Blue agreed, and the rare compliment made Sunny beam. "As am I – but I won't be participating either. So what do you think the point of this exercise is?"
Sunny cocked her head to one side, lips pursed. Jepar and Cougar were conferring while Kurt and Aurenna were warming up. All four were armed: the two Furies had an air of relaxation. "Practice."
"For what?"
"Tonight. You want to see how good Cougar and Jepar are."
"Correct. Why?"
"To take away our enemy's biggest advantage." The knife stilled: it slid from Sunny's fingers. "Surprise. You need to know how quickly they'll die."
"If they die at all," Chatoya put in, glaring at Blue.
"Everyone dies. Except him. Herod the never-dying, king of the fire." Sunny was hunched in on herself, a child who needed comfort.
Blue, as ever, offered nothing of the sort. "Sunita, the fact you have botched his death seven times is a sign of your ineptitude, not his immortality."
She looked as if he'd slapped her. "You're mean."
He shrugged. "Yes. I'm also right."
Those big brown eyes widened with outrage. Sunny looked at Chatoya with fierce appeal. "He's horrid! Is he mean to you too?"
"Most of the time," she answered, trying not think of those times when he was not and failing.
"How do you stop him?"
Blue raised an eyebrow while she pretended the prickly heat was causing her flush. At last an answer that was true enough and cryptic enough occurred. She met his eyes, intimate despite the space between them, and said, "Considered application of pressure."
Sunny mulled it over, confused. Then she said, "Oh!"
And then she stabbed Blue in the leg.
The noise he made was somewhere between a snarl and a hiss. His shoulders were tense, but with remarkable self-restraint, he did nothing more than pluck the knife from her hand.
When he slammed it in the ground, burying it to the hilt, Sunny swallowed.
He leaned in, and said in a voice like ice, "Do not do that again."
"...but she said..."
"I said considered application of pressure," said Chatoya, her voice strangled. From the look he gave her, Blue could see the laughter she was struggling to contain.
Sunny said glumly, "Sorry. But you were mean."
"What on earth are you doing?" called Aurenna. "I thought we were supposed to be fighting."
"You are," Blue said. "Get on with it."
Cougar strolled over, brow furrowed. He clocked the blood on Blue's cargos, and his eyes went to her, checking for wounds. "You okay, babe?"
"Fine." She squinted up at him. If he felt tense, it wasn't obvious. "Be careful."
Fangs perforated his smile. He raised his voice, loud enough for the Furies to hear. "Don't worry. JJ and I will try not to hurt the hired help."
Aurenna and Kurt traded amused looks. Both were too experienced to let such barbs sting.
Any tips? Cougar said in her mind. There was no such nonchalance in his thoughts: only determination, and a focus that was quite unfamiliar.
Watch out for Kurt's knuckle dusters. The spikes on them are covered with poison – fast-acting sedative, probably. He only wants to disable you, not kill you.
And her?
Clever. Perceptive. Fearless. And then she thought of the woman wearing her mother's expression. Kurt can be goaded. I'm not sure Aurenna can. But...she loves Sunny. That's her only weakness. I don't know how it will help, though.
Think we can win? Jepar's voice was wry. Neither of them were as nervous as she would have expected. But then, she supposed, they weren't immersed in the Furies. They hadn't heard all the grisly tales.
She hesitated, and knew in that instant it was answer enough. Sorry.
oOo
"That," said Kurt Schrader in a muffled voice, head tipped back to stop the blood drizzling from his broken nose, "was not what I expected."
There was a gristly creak as the cartilage healed. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, grass stains and blood. She'd never seen him looking so rough and ready, or for that matter, so human.
"That's us," Jepar croaked through a necklace of bruises. "Just like the Spanish Inquisition."
Cougar was flat on his back, one foot propped on Sunny's lap. A spike had sliced into his ankle, but he was fighting the sedative and almost winning. Gold gleamed from under his eyelids, one of which was swollen to a beautiful blackberry colour. Sunny had a starstruck look on her face.
"Very funny," Kurt said, gingerly tilting his head forward. He glared down his slightly less patrician nose. "Unlike that stunt."
"Think of it as a preview of tonight," advised Cougar in a slur. "Pretty sure the demons won't fight fair either."
"If you hadn't missed…" Aurenna said through her teeth, the threat implicit.
"I was aiming to miss," Cougar said. He struggled up, but groaned as his broken ribs objected and gave gravity another victory. "It was nowhere near her."
Aurenna's mouth drew tight. That might have been down to the pain as Blue rotated her dislocated shoulder, but Chatoya suspected she was made of sterner stuff. "That knife nicked her ear!"
"That throw was amazing," breathed Sunny. She beamed at Cougar, who managed a weak smile back. "Renna, don't be mad! Remember when I wouldn't go to bed? You did the same-"
"And I spent years learning to do it!" snapped Aurenna. "I'm hardly an untrained amateur."
"And neither, apparently, is my brother," Blue said, his voice flat. "So who was it?"
She'd wondered the same herself. Chatoya had seen Jepar and Cougar fight several times over the years. There had been the usual scraps of high school, and their frequent tangles with the Pack – fights for pride or honour or for the hell of it. And then there had been the times – too many – when they'd fought for their lives, savage desperate times.
Today had been entirely different.
From the moment that Kurt and Aurenna had split apart, she'd expected the usual havoc. But even with two Furies charging them down, Jepar and Cougar stood calm – and when they moved, there was purpose there, strategy in every step.
Beside her, Blue sat up straight. Despite his indifferent face, she knew he'd seen it too.
The knuckle duster swung, light lancing into Cougar's eyes – but Jepar slid in to block the blow with his arm, and the two of them had switched so Cougar caught Aurenna's flying kick square on his shoulder. And then it dissolved into motion so swift she could only catch pieces of it, moves stitched together into deadly choreography.
Kurt and Aurenna were better, there was no doubt about it. Attacks came from everywhere – above, below, left, right, a flurry of kicks and blows and weaponry.
Blue murmured, "Interesting."
"What is?" Sunny said.
He glanced at her. "You tell me."
She frowned, eyes tracking the fight. "They're holding off Kurt and Renna. They aren't stronger, or faster, but there's something - they look like..." She squinted: it had to be hard for her human eyes to follow the blur of bodies. "...like both of them are always in the right place at the right time."
"Exactly so," Blue said.
Chatoya watched, trying to puzzle out how they were doing it. Jepar and Cougar moved as if each could use the other's senses: when she reached out, she felt the link between their minds.
Kurt and Aurenna had the training. But they could never have done what the boys had: they could never have let the other step into their mind. No Fury would, because to allow someone to use your senses so easily was to let down your defences and leave yourself vulnerable.
They had the training. Cougar and Jepar had eight years of friendship. Eight years of secrets kept, debts repaid, of laughter and arguments and hard-earned trust.
Her eyes narrowed as Cougar executed a move that she knew came fresh from the Furies.
And, it seemed, a bit of insider knowledge.
But Kurt and Aurenna were overwhelming them. A knife spun through the air and sliced open Jepar's arm. Blood sprayed across the scraggly grass. There was a crack as Aurenna's foot slammed into Cougar's ribs, a snarl as he lurched into her fist.
It was almost over. Jepar flew backwards into a tree; Cougar moved to shield him as he recovered but the two Furies flanked him. All he had was a knife and some busted ribs.
"They've lost," Sunny said. She sounded disappointed. "They'll have to yield."
"Will they?" asked Blue.
She gave him a puzzled look. "They don't have any choice."
His smile was faint. "There's always a choice."
"Even when there isn't one?" she said, sounding more sceptical than anyone her age should have been able to.
He turned his head: his eyes were bright and cold and knowing. "Especially then."
Kurt and Aurenna closed in. Chatoya felt herself tensed in anticipation of the beating that was surely to come, wanting to look away and not wanting to. The knife gleamed in Cougar's hand, wavering between the two of them before he flipped the blade, ready to throw it.
Her eyes met Cougar's...and he winked.
They anticipated his move – but not the target of it. The knife whipped from his hand, a silver whirl that both Kurt and Aurenna had ducked away from-
And then they realised where it had gone.
Blue didn't flinch: Chatoya did, but too late - the knife thudded into the bark of the tree as Sunny squeaked. Chatoya reached for her, but it wasn't pain on Sunny's face – it was delight. She touched her fingers to her ear and grinned when they came away wet with blood.
"That was so cool…" she breathed.
Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.
"You son of a bitch!" Kurt shouted, and then it got extremely messy.
Which brought them to this moment. Four battered people and a question hanging in the air.
"Who was it?" Blue repeated.
And in that moment, it became clear. She prodded Jepar in the shoulders: he yelped. "Your Sunday soccer game."
"What?" said Kurt, sounding flummoxed.
"Every Sunday, the boys have a kickabout with the Pack. Five aside soccer. Only you haven't, have you? I should have realised the minute you told me who your team was."
Jepar coughed. "Um. Maybe."
She gave him a jolt of healing magic that made him twitch. "Vaje, Aspen and Lance. You haven't been playing soccer at all! They've been teaching you!"
"They may have taught you to fight," Blue said very thoughtfully. "But they didn't teach you that interesting little link. Where did that come from?"
Cougar treated him to a glare full of fire. "I saw someone do it to his soulmate. Only difference was, he didn't ask."
And she did not look at him; she did not look at Blue. She only stared at Jepar's lacerated back and concentrated on fixing it, cut by cut.
Blue's voice was cool. "If we're thinking of the same person, there was one other significant difference."
"What?"
His answer was simple: and yet laced with meaning, with warning, with a deadly reminder to his brother.
"He won."
oOo
It was a clear night, as deep and still as a tomb. The Milky Way slashed across the indigo sky, and her eyes traced it, a glittering trail into the unknown. The stars were the only light, so they travelled in the shadows of the past, of dying suns and distant worlds.
That, at least, seemed appropriate.
The buzz of the engine was all that disturbed the silence. Blue had the headlights off: they swept along bumpy desert roads, far from the faded glory of Luxor, far from the tourists and the tour guides.
No one spoke. Jepar was asleep in the back, or feigning it well. In the reflection of the window, Chatoya could see Cougar checking and rechecking his weapons: fingers touched to his wrist, his legs, left then right, back of his neck.
Ahead, the jeep was almost invisible. Starshine gleamed on the hood, refracting in the facets of the taillight; hints that something else was alive in the desert. Chatoya wondered if Kurt was talking to Sunny, if Aurenna was telling her to keep her seatbelt on, if any of them realised what an odd mimicry of a family they were.
Although, she supposed there was an odd mimicry of a relationship in this car. And this was the only privacy they would get. Are you sure we aren't walking into a trap?
No, answered Blue, his mind as bright and strange as the stars. But if Sunita kills Herod, the crown will be destroyed. Once that's done, I intend to find our ambitious traitor. Without the crown, their plans are worth nothing.
What if it's Kurt, or Aurenna?
Possible. Unlikely, given their attachment to Sunita, but possible. If it is, we'll find out in short order.
If it is, we'll all die.
Yes. That's how we'll find out. He sounded positively blasé. At which point, the ensuing enslavement and devastation of the world as we know it is no longer our problem.
Well. Thanks for that. As ever, you're a beacon of hope in this dark hour.
He gave a soft, low laugh. Cougar glanced up, bemused.
Would you rather I lie? This is no easy task. Sunita has never faced Herod so young. And we have raised her...differently.
Meaning what?
The Furies have found her before. And we kept her like a caged animal, rearing her to kill or to be killed. No one ever considered that there was another way. She killed him and then we released her into the wild, so to speak.
What happened?
The inevitable. She lived a lonely, empty life. She gambled or drank or whored. And she died not long after her father each time, knowing he would return, knowing that her existence was to be nothing but his death or hers, until the end of time.
So what changed?
She had the good fortune to be born when I took over the Furies.
You? You decided she needed to be raised in a loving family environment? I find that hard to believe.
That's because I took the decision to raise her as if she had a future, not as if the world was full of rainbows and cuddles. He sounded vexed. Kurt and Aurenna did that on their own. However, it may yet work to our advantage.
How?
Choices, my witch. Sometimes the same choice looks very different when you have something to lose. There was an odd note to his voice: regret, perhaps, or a certain sarcasm. She often wondered what he would have been like if they'd never met, or if she'd died, or if she'd never dared to make him hers.
Chatoya hesitated, and she wanted to ask him what choices he'd made, what paths he'd not taken – but the road ahead was diving into a valley, and as the walls rose either side, the car coasted to a stop.
"We're here," Blue said.
She stepped out. Even at night the heat was present, if muted and soft as fleece. "Is this it?"
The gorge walls were pocked with gates and ramps. Small signs stood beside them, and off to the left she could see a shelter with maps in glass cases and benches to sit on.
"This is it," Aurenna said, her hair bronze in the night. "The Valley of the Kings."
oOo
The tomb they wanted was not among those numbered and catalogued. The Furies had been very careful to keep it hidden: it lay in the west valley, far from the tourist trail, and further concealed under an avalanche of spells.
The hour-long hike through the steep hills was dusty and tiring. When they reached it, Chatoya couldn't help but feel underwhelmed. After she'd stripped away the spells, there was only a dark hole into the ground and some crudely cut steps.
Kurt was quickly recapping the layout with the others.
"Three chambers," he said. "The first is where we'll fight. The second contains the demons – as soon as Chatoya has opened it, you need to engage them and protect her. The third has the crown. Once that's open, Malefici will get the crown and head back to us. Our aim is to leave the tomb before Herod arrives. It's going to be far easier fighting him out here."
Chatoya cast a dubious glance at the treacherous terrain.
"Until Malefici returns, Chatoya cannot release the opening spells. After that, she may need to expend her energy in keeping him from being controlled by the crown. If Herod arrives, we need to keep the demons occupied. Sunny will fight him. Help her if you can, but not at the risk of leaving a demon free to attack her. We are expendable. She is not. Everyone clear?"
There were nods and murmurs of agreement.
Sunny looked unhappy. There was uncertainty on her face when she looked at Kurt or Aurenna, as if she was seeing for the first time that they were not immune to death.
"Arm up, sunshine," Kurt said to her, his voice cool and distant. His professionalism seemed to work, because the face she turned to him was a mask of serenity.
What happened next, Chatoya could not quite fathom. She saw Sunny reach up to the sky where Orion's belt gleamed like a string of pearls. And then it was like looking into a M C Escher painting as perspective distorted, as distance shrank and expanded and twisted in ways it simply shouldn't be able to. She saw the silhouette of Sunny's hands – saw them clench before blue-white light flooded the sky, so bright she had to shield her eyes.
When she had blinked away the afterglow, Sunny held a short blade no longer than her arm. It was made of pale metal that seemed to glow faintly.
Chatoya looked back at Orion. The stars that marked the sword were gone.
"Wow," muttered Jepar.
"Seconded," said Cougar. "Bet Herod can't do that."
Sunny gave him a shaky smile. "Now all I have to do is kill him."
oOo
Inside, the air was humid. It smelt of damp stone and a faintly spicy scent she couldn't place. Wires were incongruous against the fading paintings on the walls,trailing in from a generator that whirred outside to power the electric lights.
"Ready?" Blue said.
Chatoya had positioned herself in a corner – nothing but rock at her back, Jepar and Cougar in front of her. "Ready," she said, and cast.
The words rasped out – harsh sounds, tearing down the defences that the Furies had so arduously built. She felt the magic unravelling as the door to the second chamber swung open with the scream of scraping stone.
And the demons burst out.
They loomed through gouts of thick smoke, blazing orange creatures shaped like men that charged them down. She recoiled from the heat: sweat popped on her brow and arms, but she kept speaking because there was no other choice.
Kurt and Aurenna crashed into them. The air was hazy with smoke, punctuated by the gleam of blades, by flashes of fire and reflections dancing over the walls. And then the maelstrom caught Cougar and Jepar in it too – she huddled back against the stone, cool on her hot skin, and cast on through a dry throat.
Blue was gone, sprinting down the long thin corridor from the second chamber to the third. She spoke the words: on her senses, she felt the door rise up like a portcullis, if one of smooth solid stone, and Blue slithered under it, a curl of frost in a world of fiery desert magic.
Words fell from her lips like rain; Cougar and Jepar reappeared in front of her, scorched, bleeding, but always batting away the demons. She could not stop or the door would drop shut, trapping Blue.
A demon reared in front of her with a rustling, hungry roar – and Jepar smashed into it, vanishing into the smoke in a vicious tangle of weaponry and fire.
Sunny was in the thick of it, she came to realise, her blade the blue-white of lightning. Wherever she was, the demons recoiled. Once, the blade nicked one – it screamed horribly, and the flame vanished from its skin.
Chatoya saw then that they were men, trapped in an eternity of flames. As she looked at its – at his – face, she saw the lines of suffering, saw the despair it carried. And then the fire rose over him once more, and nothing remained but rage and hunger.
Come on, she urged Blue. Come on, get back so we can go...
She couldn't say how long it was before she made out his shape, a dark smear through the miasma. Her voice was nearly gone – with relief, she let go of the spells and the doors slammed shut. The backlash swept the smoke out through the entrance, and the scene was revealed.
The Furies were engaged with two demons. Sunny had one pinned in a corner, while Jepar was taking a quiet breather. Cougar was tussling with the fourth. All of them were burned and cut and bruised, but there was no hint of panic in the air. It looked under control.
Except that was, for Blue.
He had the crown, and it was such a mundane thing – a copper circlet shaped like rippling flames. But his hands were white-knuckled about it, and he was staggering, as if he could hardly bear its weight. His eyes were pure gold, and unfocused.
Instinct made her reach along the soulmate link...
His mind was a whirlpool, swirling into chaos. At the centre of it, a command, and a voice choking his thoughts like smog, whispering kill them all and bring me the crown…
She recoiled.
"He's here!" she cried, but the words came out in a croak. She cleared her throat. "Herod-"
And his laughter rippled into the tomb.
He came through the entrance in a wash of choking heat that stripped the moisture from her lips and eyes even as she turned her face away. The air in her lungs was scalding and dry; she endured it grimly as she moved in front of Blue.
The pops and crackles of fire filled the air – and so did his voice, smoke-roughened and empty. "Step aside."
Chatoya backed away, but not far. She shook her head.
He laughed, and the stone shook with it. As the smoke rolled back from him like curtains, she saw the form of the king beneath. The flames coiled around him in a sinister cloak, a strange deep red. His forehead bore deep wounds that seeped black blood, and they were a match for the crown. It was a proud face, one that had been handsome once, but was now baked and cracked and blistered.
His eyes were black as oil. And there was nothing human left in them.
"I will not ask again. Step aside, child."
She called up Bhari's powers: earth surrounded her, strong and stable and heavy. Stone could crush fire, she was sure. With a flick of her fingers the floor opened up like a hand to grasp him – rock encased him, head to foot-
And exploded into pieces. She tottered as one hit her hard on the shoulder, too late raising shields that deflected the rest.
Smoke choked her lungs. Chatoya doubled over, coughing, fumbling for spells that she flung at him – magic soaked harmlessly into the fires as Herod advanced.
She could see the others struggling to be free of the demons, but they had become even more savage in Herod's presence, burning brighter as if his power fed them. Chatoya straightened, her head spinning, not knowing what she could do – only that she would not stand aside and let him have the crown and Blue.
His hands raised – red fire surged up like a wave-
"Father."
His mouth split in a grin. He faced Sunny. The sword was trembling in her hands, but she stood very straight, head high.
"Salome," he breathed on a gout of smoke. "Have you come to face your destiny again?"
She was afraid, it was plain, but she did not back down. "Yes. Have you come to die again?"
His snarl echoed from the walls. "Not this time, daughter. I have come for what is mine."
"I'll take that as a 'yes' then," Sunny said, her voice shrill, and charged him.
They blurred, the girl and the burning king, a dance of fire and stars and her dark plait like a scythe against the light. But it was clear she was outmatched from the start. No matter how well they had trained her, she was a child and he was a man.
And without Sunny, the demons were turning the tide. There was no sword of stars to force them back – they fought like dervishes, fearless and ferocious. Chatoya found herself back to back with Jepar, defending Cougar as he slumped against a wall, trying to staunch a bleeding shoulder. Every time they tried to reach Sunny, they were thrown back.
She dared not use the soulmate link. She was afraid that she would be dragged in by the copper crown.
And then it happened. Herod seized Sunny and threw her like a ragdoll into a wall. She hit the floor in a puddle of turquoise and metal and did not move. The sword clattered down.
He laughed. And then he moved towards Blue, who leaned against the wall, shivering as if it was midwinter. His eyes were a thin slit of gold, almost closed.
Kurt howled – he threw himself at the king and was batted away. Fire wrapped him like snakes and pinned him to the floor. The demons were on them like rabid beasts, burning, clawing, yowling, and they could not reach Herod.
Herod paused in front of Blue. "What a stubborn creature you are. Give me my crown."
Blue opened his eyes. And then he told Herod to do something anatomically unlikely.
The king laughed as if it was a fine joke. Then he reached out and wrenched the crown from Blue's hands. Chatoya heard the snaps as Blue's fingers broke: it reverberated through her with sickening force.
She whispered, "No..."
He raised the circlet to his head. The red flames soared over him, a pillar of fire that licked the roof of the tomb. And he said, in a voice that reached to her bones, to her very soul, and shackled it to his will: "Kneel."
Her knees hit the stone so hard she gasped with pain.
All of them knelt – even the demons. They had no choice.
"So at last I have my crown," Herod said. "Two thousand years of waiting." His voice became a snarl. "Two thousand years of dying because of a stupid beggar and a stupid prophecy. No longer. A sword of stars is nothing to a crown of fire!"
He tuned to the only person in the room who wasn't kneeling – Sunny. His shadow threw her into darkness, and she looked as small and curled as a fallen petal. One hand was loose around the sword, her head down, but Chatoya saw tears dripping onto the stone.
Sunny cowered as he strode towards her. And it didn't matter that she'd pulled down the stars to fight with and it didn't matter that she'd grown up in the Furies – she was a frightened child, and there was no one left to protect her.
Herod pulled up Sunny by her hair – she lashed out, but he locked an arm around her throat, and she was still. The sword dangled in her hand, useless. He had blocked his body with her own; Sunny was pressed to his chest, in a cruel mockery of an embrace, of a father's sheltering arms.
"It's a beautiful symmetry, don't you think?" he said. "You can watch them die and they can watch you die."
Her eyes were wide, her breath scratchy as his arm tightened.
"It's been a long road, daughter, and you have not made it easy. But despite that, you are my only child. So I will be merciful. Not, of course, that you have any choice in the matter."
And something changed in her face. There was a light in her eyes, a sudden revelation.
Chatoya heard, then, Blue and Sunny speaking earlier as the Furies fought under the sunlight.
There's always a choice.
Even when there isn't one?
Especially then.
Sunny's hand tightened on the sword, and she gave the most beautiful smile and whispered, like a prayer, "Wrong."
And then she drove the sword through her own body and into his. He jerked – he screamed in horror, and the blue-white light consumed him. It leapt from him in four directions and with nothing more than a puff of smoke, the demons were gone.
Herod blazed: she saw him as he had been, shorn of the fire and the fury. A tall man with a stern face who wore white robes, who could have been better than this. And then it was gone – there was only ash that hung in the shape of a man before it collapsed to the ground. The air had a strange shimmer, like heat haze in the desert.
Sunny folded over, nothing more than a little sigh escaping her, and fell.
The spell broke with Aurenna's scream. Chatoya staggered to her feet, but Kurt and Aurenna were faster.
The healing spells on her lips died as she saw the blood pooled around Sunny. Kurt scooped her up, very gentle, his arms a cradle that trembled around her. Sunny was crying, and trying not to – that was the worst thing. Even now, she was trying to be brave.
"Kurt, it hurts," she said, fingers fluttering against his. "Kurt, I'm scared."
"It's okay," he said, husky, lying because it was all he had left to give her. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
She gazed up at him, her eyes full of trust. "Promise?"
He kissed her forehead. "Promise."
She slid into unconsciousness, her breath faint and light.
"Can you..." Aurenna said, looking at Chatoya with terrible hope.
Chatoya put two fingers to Sunny's throat, even though she already knew the answer. Maybe Ryar could have helped – maybe – but she doubted it. "I can take away the pain."
Aurenna moaned, heels of her hands pressed to her temples. "No."
"I'm sorry," she said. It was utterly inadequate. "I can't help."
And then, where the air shimmered so oddly, it parted, and orange light gleamed. A waft of incense came with it. There was the sound of rustling, of screams, of metal on metal – and a woman appeared in front of them. Like the others, fire gleamed about her, but it was softer, the pale orange of dawn, and there was no anger in her face.
"But perhaps I can," she said. Thick black hair moved around her as if blown in a unfelt breeze.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Kurt, teeth bared.
"Mariamne, I presume," Blue said calmly. He swept her a brief bow, mouth set in a faint smile. "Your timing is faultless. Or is it just that you knew precisely what your daughter would have to do to use your gift?"
"I gave her what I could. I knew...I knew the price. But I knew that I could offer her eternal life, too." Her face as she looked at Sunny was strange: not that look of love under fire that Chatoya had seen on Aurenna, but something else, possessive, proud, hungry.
"What do you mean?" said Aurenna, her face bright. "Can you save her?"
"I can make her like me." Mariamne's dark eyes gleamed. "Salome would live forever, a phoenix in the flames. But not in this world."
"No," Kurt said, his voice hard and low. "You can't have her."
The woman in the flames reached out her hands, her skin gleaming in the reflection of the light. "She is my daughter, not yours. And all you can give her is death. She won't return, you know. Her task is done – Herod is dead. This is the last life she will ever have, and you would let it end like this?"
Sunny shivered in his arms. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Kurt looked up. His eyes were shining with tears and then his shoulders slumped. He stood – and Aurenna threw herself at his back, her face distraught.
"No! You can't! No, no, no!" Her fists hammered on his back, because even now she wouldn't risk hurting Sunny. And Kurt endured it, head bowed, until her fingers uncurled, until her hands were clutching at his shoulders, and her anger became grief. Then she pressed her forehead to his back and cried.
He said, soft, hoarse, "We have to."
She shook her head, still buried against him. "No..."
"She'll die," he said. "I don't want her to die, Aurenna. I can't...I can't let her go like this."
Aurenna drew herself up slowly, as if she wasn't too sure her legs would hold. Her hair was dishevelled, her face stained with tears and dust and blood. She pressed her hand to her mouth and and the words seeped through, anguished. "I know."
Kurt carried her to Mariamne. She reached out – and he stepped back. "I want a deal," he said.
"A deal?" Her eyebrows arched.
"You are a demon, aren't you?"
A smirk curved over her mouth. "Very well. What do you want?"
"Sunny," he said. "And I'll make it fair. We'll play on your turf, not ours."
She laughed. "You think you can survive my world? You're a fool, mortal man. But then, you usually are."
"Your turf," he repeated, calm. His words had the sound of a threat. "You save her. And then we have to find her."
"Let me guess: you find her, you bring her back. You don't, Salome stays with me."
"No." He smiled. It wasn't pleasant: there was fire in his eyes, darkness behind his smile. "We find her, we give her a choice. Sunny can choose if she stays with you or comes home with us. And if we fail, we stay. You get a couple of playthings for eternity. Sounds fair, doesn't it?"
Mariamne searched his face with the look of someone trying to find the loophole in the deal. Then she laughed and said, "Deal. She'll be healed by the next new moon. Now, if you please, my daughter."
She took Sunny, holding her as if she wasn't quite sure how.
"We'll come for her," he vowed. "Next new moon, we'll come for her."
Her laughter had the echo of Herod in it. Chatoya shivered. "See you in the void, mortal."
With nothing more, she was gone. Only a faint scent of incense lingered as proof that she had ever been there. They were left to the silence: six of them, where there had been seven, and their victory as hollow as the tomb.
oOo
The next day was too long. Chatoya slept badly, replaying the night over and over. What could they have done differently – how could they have saved Sunny? She found no answers, only more questions.
She did not disturb Kurt. He was sat, as he had been all day, in the garden, turning a knuckleduster in the sun. His eyes were fixed on some unseen point, but Chatoya knew if she followed his gaze, it would lead her back to the Valley of the Kings, and the empty tomb.
Aurenna was beside him, reading through documents about demons with fierce dedication. Every now and then, she reached out to him, and his fingers would tangle with hers, or he'd brush a tear from her cheek, then they would go back to waiting for the new moon. Neither spoke: but she felt their grief more keenly for the silence, as if the pieces of their broken hearts were laid out like toppled ruins before her.
She left them alone. It was all she could offer them, for now.
Jepar and Cougar were in the sitting room, quietly patching each other up. Most of their broken bones were gone, but the burns were taking longer to fade. She went and sat with them, and their familiarity soothed her.
"She was a sweet kid," Cougar said.
"Brave, too." Jepar grimaced as he peeled off a bandage to slap on aloe vera. "I don't know if I could have done that."
"We're coming with you, of course," added Cougar casually. She looked up and saw him watching her.
"What do you mean?"
"Into the demon world. To get Sunny. Don't think you're going without us."
She opened her mouth to give them a dozen reasons why it was crazy, and realised they knew them all already. Both of them were wearing a dozen reasons shaped like scars. "I wouldn't dream of it." She reached out, tentative, and laid her hand on Cougar's. "And thank you. Both of you."
"We're your friends, babe," he said. "We've been to hell and back. What's a little further?"
His eyes were steady and gentle, and she saw so clearly someone who would be easy to love. But she'd never wanted it easy, it seemed, and when she looked away, it wasn't him she thought of.
oOo
Blue was out on the hills overlooking the desert. He'd found the only patch of shade in the entire place and was watching the winds brushing the sand backwards and forwards. She stood over him, tired and angry and heartsick.
"Will you help to get her back?"
"Of course. Without Sunita, you and I declare war. Or had you forgotten?"
In truth, she had. It seemed an age ago. "I thought war was right up your street."
His smile sizzled. "Not when the alternative is so much more entertaining."
"Did you know how the sword worked?" she said, her voice very quiet and very even. "Did you know all along?"
Blue glanced at her. "I suspected."
No wonder he had traded her Sunny's future so easily, knowing it was only wishful thinking.
"You brought her here to die."
He didn't hesitate: it wouldn't have occurred to him. "Yes."
"She was a child."
His eyes flicked to her, as brief and piercing as lightning. "She was a Fury."
Her nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms; it was bitter and true. Yet she could not erase Sunny's voice saying Kurt, it hurts. Kurt, I'm scared.
"She was ours," she said, at last letting the guilt and the doubt slide free. "And we failed her."
"I disagree."
"You would."
His smile was faint. "She was undone from the start, my witch. She was the daughter of a king who dealt with demons, the daughter of a queen who became one. Of course she was the only one who could end it – blood of them both, halfway between the never-dying and the ever-living. I told you Sunita was a weapon. But she was never our weapon – she was theirs, shaped in their hate and their need."
"This hardly sounds like success," she said tiredly.
He shrugged, a liquid motion. "No? Then consider this: for seven years, she lived well. She was safe, and I am told she was happy. She even had something like a family, if such things matter. There was no other end for her and yet she lived as if there could be. So tell me, how did we fail her?"
"We gave her a family and we tore it apart."
"I have no idea what Kurt and Aurenna thought they were doing. They should know better."
"You put them in charge of a little girl and told them to raise her," she said. "You told them to protect her with their lives. How can you be surprised that they love her?"
"It was hardly part of the job." His voice was quite cool, a touch disapproving.
"It's exactly their job," she snapped.
"They're assassins."
"No, they're parents. They just happen to be assassins as well. You took Kurt and Aurenna away from the Furies. You set them apart, and you set Sunny apart. You taught her how to love and you used it to manipulate her."
He grimaced. "Love was not part of my plan."
"It never is." Chatoya walked away then. She left the heat and the sand and all that was buried in the desert, in the hollow places and the darkness. But she knew without a doubt, without a qualm, that when the new moon came, she would be back.
They would do this again: face down fire and monsters and all that lay in the void. And not for personal gain, no matter what he might think. It was for a simpler, better reason.
After all, it might not have been part of his plan – but it had always been part of hers.
oOo Fin oOo
Thank you so much for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it - and I would love to know what you thought.