Between the Blade and the Heart

  Her hair was beautiful golden waves, and intertwined with it were five living, breathing snakes. They grew out from her scalp and danced around her head like a halo. The snakes leaned out farther than her, their tongues flitting out, and the light from above the stairwell shimmered off their scales.

  "It's been a long time," Cecily said, and her eyes--brilliant green, matching the snakes--were locked on my mother. Her lips twisted into a strange smile.

  "It has," Marlow agreed, returning her own uneasy smile.

  "You killed my sister," Cecily told my mother.

  I sensed Asher's posture grow more rigid, as if readying himself to spring into action if necessary. He was beside me, but he took a half step forward, almost as if to protect me. Which was silly, because I was far more equipped to battle something like a gorgon. Instinctively, I reached for my hip, but I'd left Sigrun at home. The sword was useless when I wasn't on an assignment, anyway, but it gave me comfort just touching it and knowing it was there.

  "I did," Marlow admitted calmly. "I was only doing my job. It's not me who decides who lives or who dies."

  The peculiar smile remained fixed on Cecily's face as she stared up at Marlow. "Just following orders, were you?" she asked, and Marlow nodded. "I've heard that excuse to explain away all kinds of evil acts in this world."

  "I don't expect it to explain away anything I've done," Marlow said. "I'm only telling you that it wasn't personal."

  "Well, if you had known Calixta, it would've been personal," Cecily said with a light laugh. "I hated my sister, and I'm glad she's dead." The gorgon stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come on in."

  Immediately inside the door was a small foyer that looked about as dark and dank as the stairwell around us, but when Cecily opened the door beyond that, it was a totally different story.

  Brightly lit by an opulent chandelier, everything was white marble with gold embellishments and crystals everywhere. Huge mirrors with ornate bronze frames hung on the walls. Every piece of furniture--from the flared bench by the door to the mirrored sideboard cabinet--was all glamorously art deco.

  Cecily led the way through the surprisingly spacious apartment, her long blush pink dressing gown flowing on the marble floors behind her, and went down a few steps into her sunken living room. She sat on a sofa near a baby grand piano and gestured widely to the room.

  "Please, sit," she said, lounging back on the sofa.

  In the center of the room was a large glass coffee table sitting atop a white fur rug, and Marlow sat down on the tufted ottoman beside it. I decided on the velvet settee, and Asher sat down beside me, so close our legs touched when he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. Sitting across from Cecily like this, with Asher at my side, I felt a bit like an uneasy teenager being introduced to her new boyfriend's disapproving parents.

  "Aren't you going to introduce me to your guests?" Cecily purred as she lounged back on the sofa, and her gaze lingered on Asher.

  "This is my daughter Malin and her friend Asher." Marlow gestured to us.

  "And I am Cecily Stavros, one of your mother's oldest and dearest friends," she said, laughing lightly. She rested her head on her arm, and a snake coiled around her wrist. "I understand you've come here asking for a favor."

  "It's not a favor, exactly--" Marlow started to explain, but Cecily cut straight through the bullshit.

  A snake in her hair began to hiss, and Cecily held up her hand to silence it. She asked, "Do you want something from me, or did you just come for a friendly chat?"

  Marlow sat up straighter. "We only wanted information."

  Cecily clicked her tongue, then narrowed her eyes. "And what shall I get in return?"

  "What do you want?" Marlow asked.

  "I want you to tell me when I'll die."

  TWENTY-THREE

  Marlow took a deep breath, looking the gorgon directly in the face, and unemotionally answered, "I don't know. I don't know until the name shows up on my orders."

  Cecily got up, walking across the room to a gold and glass serving cart. "But certainly my time must be up soon." She looked back over her shoulder at Marlow. "I can't be the only one that they allow to live forever."

  She began pouring herself a drink, a dusty pink liquid from a lavish decanter, into a highball glass. From a small bowl she plucked two small globes that looked like ice cubes, but when she dropped them in her glass, they fizzed and bubbled.

  "The math of the gods is a mystery to all of us," Marlow said simply.

  "So what do you have to offer me?" Cecily asked. She walked past me and Asher on her way back to the sofa, and she paused in front of Asher to run her hand underneath her chin. "Did you bring me this delicious young man?"

  All the snakes in her hair leered toward him, and he continued to stare at her impassively. But a small tick in his jaw made me suspect that it was taking a great deal of fortitude to keep from pulling back from her.

  "I'm here because the information is of great benefit to me," Asher said.

  Cecily threw back her head and laughed--a cheerful cackling sound--and then she strode back to return to her spot lounging on the sofa. "Don't be so serious, my dear boy. I'm only teasing."

  "He's actually the reason I'm here," Marlow interjected, her voice sounding light, probably because Cecily seemed to have taken a liking to Asher.

  His gaze turned stormy as he rested his blue eyes on my mother. "Not to argue semantics, but the reason we're here is actually because of you."

  "Oh, there seems to be contention in the group." Cecily's eyes bounced excitedly between Marlow and Asher, and one of her snakes dipped its head into her glass, drinking. "Do tell all the juicy details."

  "There isn't much to tell," Marlow replied, casting an irritated glare toward Asher.

  "We're looking for the man that killed Asher's mother," I interjected, because I feared they would go around and around like this all afternoon. "Tamerlane Fayette."

  Cecily tilted her head and sipped from her drink. "Name doesn't ring a bell. I've always been better with faces, anyway."

  I pulled my phone from my messenger bag and quickly scrolled through until I found the picture of Tamerlane I'd saved to it. Then I walked over to her. Cecily touched the phone, moving it so she could get a better look, but she just shook her head.

  "This isn't enough. I'll need more. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?"

  Asher looked over at Marlow, and when she didn't say anything, he cleared his throat and said, "He's supposed to be dead."

  Cecily's eyes widened with glee and her smile grew so wide, it looked painful. I don't know if I'd ever seen anyone quite as happy as she looked just then.

  "Asher," Marlow hissed, with fury in her eyes. If she were any closer to him, she would've smacked him across the head, something I'd experienced firsthand plenty of times.

  Asher shrugged. "It's the only other thing we really know about him."

  "Did you let someone slip away, Marlow?" Cecily wagged her finger. "You dirty bird."

  "It's a complicated issue, and I would like it if you could keep it between us," Marlow said.

  "What's a little secret between old friends?" Cecily intimated as she took another drink.

  Marlow smiled thinly. "Thank you."

  "But now that you mention it, I have heard rumors about draugrs," Cecily said, and when Asher looked quizzical, she followed up with, "The undead."

  Asher's brow furrowed. "You mean like a zombie or a vampire?"

  "No. Not just immortals like vampires, or myths like zombies. Draugrs are undead in that they are immortals who managed to escape their fate and skipped their date with a Valkyrie," Cecily elaborated.

  "So it has happened before?" I asked.

  "There's talk of it from time to time, but most of the time it's only gossip and urban legends." Cecily waved her hand and tossed her head. "I've been alive for over half a millennium, and I've only met one draugr. He was a miserable old fool. Their time is up for a reason
, and he eventually came to see me and asked me to turn him to stone. So I did."

  She nodded toward a statue at the other end of the living room. He was marble perfection, with the chiseled physique of the gods, wearing only a loincloth, and with two large wings coming out of his back.

  "Do you know anything about draugrs nowadays?" I asked, and Asher continued staring back over his shoulder at the statue.

  "I had assumed it was nothing more than rumors or wishful thinking," Cecily admitted. "We immortals are always looking for stories about cheating death and ways to extend our existence here on earth."

  The thing about immortals was that they never really died. There were ways to destroy their earthly bodies--either with the blade of a Valkyrie, or in various difficult tasks, like a vampire with a stake to its chest or a silver bullet for a lobishman. But once their bodies were dead, they merely moved on to the next plane of their existence--down to Kurnugia.

  But Kurnugia was alleged to be dark and unpleasant, with several millennia's worth of angry demons and devils jostling for control and tormenting everyone around them. Without the Vanir gods and the Valkyries to intervene, it was chaos, and death wasn't an option anymore, so it was an endless nightmare.

  There was a bastion of peace--a solitary fortress known as Zianna that was ruled by angels and other divine immortals. But with the population of immortals growing for all eternity, it was legendary for being nearly impossible to gain entrance. There were far too many immortals, and even discounting the huge swath that were too cruel and malicious to ever be invited in, it would be impossible to house all the saintly beings.

  With the prospect of spending the rest of eternity in the cramped hell of Kurnugia, and with the doors of Zianna locked to them, most immortals preferred to live out their days on earth, where the sun was bright and pleasures were easy.

  "What rumors have you been hearing?" Marlow asked.

  "That there's a whole trio of draugrs stalking about the city," Cecily said.

  "At least you're not the only Valkyrie shirking your duties," Asher muttered, causing Marlow to give him another dirty look.

  "What is it they say?" Cecily asked. "Trouble always comes in threes?" Then she tilted her head. "Or is that death?"

  "What are they doing in the city?" Marlow asked, returning the conversation to the topic at hand.

  Cecily answered, "The same thing everyone else does here--get into as much trouble as you can without getting caught."

  "Do you know anything about them?" Marlow asked.

  "Not much." Cecily let out a dramatic sigh. "Only one of them I've heard of by name--Bram Madichonnen."

  "Have you heard if he associates with Tamerlane Fayette?" Asher asked hopefully.

  "Honestly, I haven't heard of this Tamerlane fellow at all, and the only thing I know about Bram Madichonnen is that he's allegedly a draugr and likes to hang out at the Red Raven."

  "The Red Raven? Of course he does," Marlow groused.

  I'd never been to the Red Raven, but the debauchery and sinister clientele there made it infamous around the country. It was a bar and dance club located in the Aizsaule District of the city, which had unofficially become an "impious-only" neighborhood. To top it off, the Red Raven was owned by Velnias--a demon who thought of himself as some kind of mobster.

  Cecily leaned forward and set her drink on the coffee table. "Since we're old friends, I would hate to see you hurt. So it's as your friend I'm advising you to tread very carefully." The elation in her expression had fallen away, and she spoke gravely to my mother. "Draugrs are dangerous."

  Marlow smirked. "I think I can handle an immortal."

  "An immortal, sure," Cecily relented, but her gaze only grew more somber. "But draugrs are something different. They can't be killed."

  "Of course they can," Marlow said with more conviction than I thought she should have. "Everything dies. One way or another, we all end up in the dirt or down in Kurnugia."

  "Why do you think I turned him into a statue?" Cecily pointed sadly to the statue. "Poor dear Armaros had grown weary of this life, but nothing else worked. The Valkyrie blade couldn't cut him."

  Asher leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "So you're saying that Tamerlane Fayette is immortal and unkillable?"

  "If death marks you, and it misses you, who knows how long it will be before death comes around to mark you again?" the gorgon asked.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Once we'd all piled back into Marlow's car and she finally got it started--it was an old Jeep, with actual tires instead of hoverpads, and it always took a few tries before it finally started up--Marlow immediately lit up a cigarillo and let out a frustrated breath.

  "So." Asher leaned forward from the backseat. "When are we going to the Red Raven?"

  Marlow eyed him in the rearview mirror, looking at him like he was an idiot. "Not tonight. It's going to be a madhouse."

  "Doesn't that make it the best time to go?" Asher asked. "It's almost guaranteed that this Bram guy will be there."

  "A night like tonight, it's going to be rowdy as all hell," Marlow explained. "It's not worth the risk. If he hangs out there a lot, he'll be there another night when it's quieter."

  Asher pressed on, "What if--"

  "I said not tonight," Marlow snapped and put the Jeep in gear. "And that's final."

  The rest of the car ride across town, none of us said anything, aside from Marlow cursing at other vehicles and pedestrians that she felt were slowing her down. When she parked in her spot by her house, she grunted a quick goodbye, and then headed toward her apartment without another word.

  That left Asher and me standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

  "Thanks for coming today." He scratched behind his ear and glanced around. "You were helpful, I think."

  "Yeah, no problem," I said, even though I wasn't sure I'd done anything at all. Then I turned to walk away.

  "Are you going to the Red Raven tonight?" he called after me, and I turned back to face him.

  Under the bright autumn sun, the blue in the darkness of his eyes glimmered. A smile played subtly on his full lips, and he moved closer to me. I couldn't help but notice that when he looked hopeful like this--his eyes both eager and nervous, his smile unsure but bold--he appeared strikingly handsome.

  "Are you going?" I asked.

  "I was thinking about it." He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek, before asking, "Would you care to join me?"

  "Yeah."

  "Now?"

  I shook my head. "No, it's too early, and we can't go dressed like this anyway."

  He glanced down at his jeans and distressed jacket. "Why not?"

  "It's the Feast of the Dead. It's like demon New Year for them," I elaborated. "You gotta dress up for it, or you won't even get in the door."

  "I guess I'll have to dig out my Sunday best, then," he said.

  "Do you wanna meet me at my place at nine, then we can head out?" I suggested.

  "That sounds like a plan."

  I started to walk away, then stopped and called back to him, "Oh, and this should go without saying, but don't tell Marlow."

  He waved in confirmation, and then he disappeared into a crowd of costumed characters. Presumably they were performers from the parade, based on their bright makeup and ornate regalia.

  Back at the apartment, Oona interrogated me about visiting Marlow, and I filled her in as best I could, including all the details about meeting Cecily. After that, I enlisted her to help me get ready for the Red Raven. It wasn't the kind of event that I could skimp on.

  Oona shaved the left side of my head, because Marlow had been right--it was getting long. Then she pulled out a dress that her mom had designed specifically for me.

  This dress was a little black number with cutouts on the side and opaque black fabric laid at angles all over sheer black mesh, so it hinted at more skin than it actually showed. The sleeves were long mesh, hiding the bruises and injuries I'd suffered in the Amaryllis Mori encounter,
but the hem was short and only hit my mid-thigh.

  As I stood in front of the mirror, fixing my eyeliner and reapplying my Velvet Vampire lipstick, Oona stood behind me with her arms folded over her chest and a self-satisfied grin on her face.

  "You're lucky you have me," she said.

  I looked at her in the reflection of the mirror and said, "I know."

  "You'd be totally lost without me," she reiterated.

  "I really would," I agreed with a laugh.

  "You could show your appreciation a little more."

  I turned back to her. "Hey, I made you breakfast this morning, and I helped you work on your term paper for your Miracles and Visions course."

  "That is true." Oona considered this for a second. "But I did stitch you up last night and shave your hair today, and I helped my mom make you that dress that looks amazing on you."

  "Fair enough. I'll take you out for drinks this week?" I offered.

  "Deal." She held out her hand to me and I shook it. "You really do look great."

  "Thank you. You look..." I glanced down at her old leggings and oversized Ravenswood Academy T-shirt before deciding on the word, "... comfy."

  Oona laughed. "Thanks. That's the look I was going for. Bowie's often impressed by this."

  "I would invite you to join us, but..."

  "No. I get it." She sat back on the couch. "I don't wanna get killed or punched in the face. Are you sure it's safe for you to go out tonight? I mean, if Marlow says it's too dangerous..."

  I pulled my knee-high boots out of the pile of shoes by the door and sat on the couch beside Oona.

  "It's not that she thinks it's too dangerous," I explained as I pulled on a boot. "She just doesn't want to deal with all the crowds and traffic. Plus, she really hates the Feast of the Dead."

  "How come?" Oona asked.

  "Because of everything I just said. Actually, now that I think about it, she hates most holidays."

  "She sounds like a real hoot to have grown up with," Oona said dryly.

  "You know it."

  My right boot had gone on easy, but the left boot was a fight because my calf was still swollen and tender. I had to be careful, but I couldn't go out with a bloody bandage exposed, so I had to hide it under my boots.

  "Marlow's anti-holiday rhetoric aside, it is going to be dangerous out there," Oona said. "The Red Raven isn't exactly known for being civilized."