Pride and Poltergeists

  “Wait what out?” said Marcus. “This isn’t a blown black op! This is a hostage situation turned into a massacre. That’s not something you wait out.”

  “I know,” said Silas, “that’s why I ducked out and found you. By the time I got somebody to answer a damn question, someone discovered what I was looking for. A bunch of guys in suits I’d never met before came swarming in from nowhere, insisting that the generator was in good hands and telling me to stay the hell out of your operation. That was obviously suspicious. I kept asking where you were and why we weren’t offering ground support, saying we had the clearance to know about this, but they shut me down every time. Said you were on your own and anything we might try to do to help would just blow your cover.”

  Casey groaned while walking in an ever tightening circle. “And we’re not even undercover.”

  “Yeah,” Silas said ruefully. “So, uh … I don’t know if it’s just the support team, but we’ve been compromised. At least, all the way to Rickson. This Darkness character has an in, or he paid somebody to pay someone else to stay out of it, or somebody’s trying to cover up something else, and I don’t know how the hell the congressmen are involved, but their timing can’t be another coincidence …” He shrugged. “I don’t know. But something’s up. Something really bad.”

  “Did you call Johnson?” Casey asked Silas, adding, “Rickson’s boss? Last guy below my mom?”

  “Yep,” Silas answered with a clipped nod. “And his wife, and also his brother. They haven’t seen him in days, and his secretary said he called in sick last Monday and she hasn’t heard from him since. And Casey? I called Odyssey.”

  “And?” Casey asked.

  “She didn’t answer. Hana did.”

  “What did Hana say?” Casey asked warily.

  “That Odyssey was not to be disturbed,” Silas said. “That she was busy. I told her it was about your op, but Hana wouldn’t budge.”

  “Fuuuuck,” said Casey, turning, pulling on his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck!”

  “Me too, man,” Silas said bleakly, resting an arm on his knee. He looked at me, not for the first time, and tried to smile. “Sorry. Who are you?”

  “Samantha White,” I said. “Um.” Lone survivor of ANC Splendor. That was probably what he was asking. He wanted to know where I came from and why I was now part of Casey’s merry band of psychopaths. But I couldn’t say that out loud.

  “Silas, do you think you could get back in? Give us eyes topside?” Casey asked.

  “Probably,” Silas answered. “I could find a computer and a back door, and hack into the cameras. They definitely know I was in LA, so I can’t just walk in, but I’ll figure something out. But you know … I’d have to get back to the office first … and out of the Netherworld.”

  “Right—the office which is in a different dimension,” Casey muttered. “Fuck!”

  “Maybe the portal at the ANC here is still intact?” Christina asked, sounding hopeful. “I mean, I doubt it is, but it’s worth looking into, isn’t it?”

  “Portal generators are really fragile,” I said with a sigh, shaking my head. “If we’re really lucky, it’s in a million pieces.”

  “Pieces we could put back together?” Casey asked.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Not beyond the realm of possibility.”

  “And what if it’s not in pieces?” Marcus asked.

  “Then it’s been reduced to a pile of dust beneath a bigger pile of dust,” I answered bitterly. “But … I don’t know, we’re kind of low on options. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Casey sighed. “We don’t have time to try and sift out a broken generator. And we sure as hell aren’t splitting up—luck hasn’t exactly been on our side lately.”

  “Then what’s your plan?” Marcus asked Casey.

  “Find and kill the Darkness,” Casey answered, his chin jutting out in a stubborn hold. He pulled his gun from its holster, dropping the magazine to check his bullet count before popping it back in and glowering. “We can figure the rest out when we don’t have a massive, powerful Netherworld monster blowing up my fucking country.”

  I had a horrible thought. “And … what about Dulcie?”

  Casey grimaced—then his expression softened, and he sighed. “Sam,” he started slowly. “She’s powerful. We’re going to do everything in our control to get her out of this in one piece, but if … if she tries something, we might not have any choice.”

  My blood froze—but before I could reply, we heard tires squealing and the low hum and jitter of a muscle-car engine. Damn near everything in the Netherworld was on a three-decade cultural lag. Then a long, green station wagon rolled up to the empty lot, kicking up plenty of dust.

  Judy rolled down her window and probably would have honked if she didn’t think something nasty could hear us. “Get in, losers, we’re going to save the world!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Dulcie

  I leaned over the railing and vomited. There was barely anything in my stomach, just acid, bile and lots of wine. But it kept coming up.

  “What the fuck?” was all I could think to say. The word came out as a sob; no, a muted scream. A panicked declaration to no one in the room, not Sebastian’s unconscious body, or my reflection in the mirror, so ideally perfect I wanted to scream. No blemishes, no pimples, no moles, and I knew I had one or two before all this began … I felt violated, like I’d been fast asleep during something that was down-and-out dirty.

  I wanted to collapse or cry, sob, and scream until I broke the windows. I began wondering if I were really back in control of myself again. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’d done under her influence: shooting Knight, sleeping with Sebastian, watching her rape Knight, standing idly by, screaming at myself to move, wondering why the fuck I didn’t move …

  I gagged, but there was nothing left to eject. Just dry heaves that hurt my ribs.

  No, I thought. I didn’t have enough time to panic. No, no, calm down and breathe. Stay in control of yourself! Whatever you do, you can’t let Meg have the reins over you again.

  I took a shaky breath in. My arms and legs were jelly, barely holding me up. The sober part of my brain said, Stay calm. Play the part. Whatever’s happening, you have to stop her.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her voice was coming from directly behind me. I stiffened and swallowed hard. Shit.

  “Nothing, Mother,” I said, dissolving back into character. “Just admiring the woods.”

  I turned to face her and found her standing in the doorway. She was wearing a long, black dress, her hair all in curls, and her face done up to the nines and beyond. Blisteringly beautiful. The sight of her set my blood boiling.

  Meg, I thought, clenching my teeth. Bram’s stupid maker who turned my brain to putty and stretched it thin. The bitch who had me kidnapped, before she shrink-wrapped my soul, drained Bram, and raped my boyfriend.

  I’m gonna kill you, I thought, and very slowly.

  I smiled at her, feeling as cold as marble.

  She smiled in turn and held out her hand. “Get dressed, my darling. It is time.”

  Time. The word clanged between my ears like a gong. “All right.”

  Meg nodded and started out of the room but stopped when she saw Sebastian, apparently for the first time, and smiled. “How did he do this time?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Pitifully, I thought. But that’s not what I said. “Passably well,” I replied, trying my best not to speak through my clenched teeth. “You were right. He learns quickly.”

  Meg inclined her head, smiling. “Good to hear.”

  “He has a long way to go, of course. Would there be time for me to visit the Loki?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. “Strictly for the purposes of note-taking? He seemed to please you well enough.” Good, keep your voice level, look her in the eye, and smile, smile, smile …

  Meg chuckled. “Later, princess. We’ve just a short meeting to attend to, and y
ou can play with your new toy as long as you like.”

  New toy, I thought bitterly. Still thinking I was under her influence, she encouraged me to prance back and forth between the incapable Sebastian and Knight, taking notes so I could teach my new lover how sex was supposed to be performed.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

  Meg nodded, her eyes flashing—and I felt it, the crimson pull of an impossibly old creature trying to wrangle my spirit.

  Well, that’s not very nice, I thought inanely. Lasting only a brief moment, just a cursory reassertion of her control, but already I was having trouble keeping my thoughts in order. They clustered, crumbled, and fell apart before they could become full sentences. I felt my anger draining away too, replaced by flat complacency and a dull hum like distant thunder.

  No, I thought furiously, no, no, think about Knight. Think about Knight, focus on the blue of his eyes, his eyes that you know so well … My words came out in a jumble, falling through my teeth like sand.

  Then, out of the din, a voice like satin and shadow: Think about Knight and think … about Sam.

  Sam. The absent party in all of this. Totally removed from Meg’s house of horrors. I could see her face so clearly in my head … Sam, my best friend, my sister, my beloved witch … so wildly intelligent, so beautiful …

  I heard footsteps descending the stairs. Meg left, and I hadn’t even noticed. Thank Hades …

  I sighed, slumping back against the bed, feeling suddenly exhausted. My head was pounding … but it was still my head, my mind, and my asinine thoughts. Okay, I thought. Okay. Sam. I can do this. We can do this.

  I dressed in a red, flouncy ball gown, something I vaguely recalled Meg requesting specifically for this event. She mentioned something about universal colors, so the more visually impaired creatures would be able to see me. She wanted me sticking out like a star in the abyss, glowing, a sweet, little something capable of devouring entire planets. The dress was more glittery than even Lady Gaga would find prudent, and shining brilliantly, like I was supposed to be a fairy princess.

  Fuck, I guess that’s exactly what I was. Gross!

  The rest of my ensemble? White gloves, black heels, and rosy lipstick. More blush than I’d like to admit, but it appealed to the Brainwashed Dulcie and reflected her taste. I put it all on against my better judgment—wishing to high hell I had a gun I could stash somewhere. When I looked in the mirror at my dollish face, I had to restrain a scowl.

  Smile, smile, smile. Just a little bit longer.

  I saw Sebastian on the way out and even toyed with the idea of waking him, but decided I couldn’t pretend I liked having his hands all over me in front of a crowd. Or even alone, for that matter, but that had to be shelved for another time. I could be with Knight, pretending it was for Sebastian’s benefit, and never come back, claiming Knight was the superior lover, which was absolutely true.

  I couldn’t wait to see the look on Sebastian’s face. I wondered how Meg would take it—and if she’d commandeer my “toy” because she thought I was becoming too overly fond of him.

  I sneered at Sebastian. “Showtime,” I said underneath my breath, and I went downstairs.

  ###

  The party came to a screeching halt. Everyone held their drinks in their still hands, waiting, watching eagerly as I made my way to the front of the room. Heading to the vast marble expanse of a fireplace where Meg stood with a glass in her hand, I wondered what was inside the glass. It was filled with a suspiciously viscous fluid that stuck to the sides. People nodded deferentially to me as I passed, and I nodded back, wondering if that were the correct protocol, or more forward than the glamoured Dulcie would have allowed herself to be. I tried to look shy, concealing my insane urge to rip off their heads and start laughing like I’d gone completely mad. Bulky werewolves, vampires in pinstripe suits, draconians in colorful robes, and a hundred or more mixed-race creatures with physical features I couldn’t pin down. Many creatures that were a million times more powerful than the average fairy.

  And yet, I felt like I could win, if I really wanted to. I could take it upon myself to wreck their shit, burn their stupid clothes, set their alcohol on fire, and watch Meg’s precious mansion burn down to a pile of cinders and ash just like what she’d done to the ANC, my home.

  I almost stopped. The memory slapped me in the face, gold and glowing, blue and green and silver, all the signature colors of a really bad, and definitely magical, explosion. Ruined offices, a busted Mr. Coffee lying in a corner, and Blue! Sweet, little Blue barking up a storm as I wrapped my fingers around a pearly white throat. Burning her, I began melting her skin.

  Then somebody swooped in to save the day, ripping me away from Sam and throwing me sideways before I could do any real damage. Hades bless him, whoever he was. I made a mental note to find him and buy him a drink—once I finished chopping Meg into tiny, little pieces.

  “Dulcie, my princess,” said Meg, extending a hand. I took it, smiling as widely as I could manage, and stepped up onto the stone base of the hearth. She looked at me, her eyes rippling with pride, and the vicious gloat of success. “Dulcie. My Dulcie.”

  To everyone else, it sounded like an endearing sentiment. In my ears, however, it rang like a battle cry, the shriek of a hideous, ancient beast.

  I could kill you, I thought. Now that I was looking for it, the awful powers she’d endowed on me—a chaotic coalescence of power and magic beyond magic flowed through me. The fire of the drakes, the speed and shadow of vampires, the raw strength of werewolves. The liquid sense of purpose of the dryads, creatures that could call on the water or the wind or the trees to do anything they wanted. I could summon the chimera in here right now and have him rip out your throat.

  But Meg wasn’t stupid. She had plans heaped upon other plans, plenty of backups and contingencies, last resorts, and enough replacements for every person in the room. People were already in place, ready to blow the whole world to smithereens if something happened to her and her coalition. This wasn’t just a power grab anymore, it was a sacred rite to her. It wouldn’t matter if she were dead, she’d find some way to get what she wanted. If she went up in smoke, Hades only knew what her people in the ANC would do.

  Maybe they’d scatter and give up whatever they were set there to do once they had no one to obey, I thought and hoped.

  But it was far more likely they’d all take matters into their own hands, presenting a slew of unrelated crises for us to deal with, most of which would, no doubt, escalate immediately into hostage situations. Better to stick around, read the room and play to win. Follow Meg to the end of the rainbow and strike only when it was far too late for her to call for help.

  I didn’t have a plan to go with the sentiment, but an out-and-out massacre seemed, while extremely attractive, a rather poor choice.

  So I didn’t kill her. Just in case.

  “Greetings, friends,” she said, speaking in a language I knew but couldn’t identify—one of a thousand that were now embedded in my brain. “Allies and partners,” she continued.

  It was an odd moment to critique Meg’s talent for public speaking, but I was cringing all the same. Her emphasis made every word sound passive-aggressive, a veiled insult she didn’t think anyone was smart enough to catch. She looked at me, smirking—which indicated she was doing it on purpose.

  “It has been a long, hard road. But here we are. Only mere moments from our restoration.”

  Restoration. Old world, old Houses. Drakes who wanted to marry me to solidify an alliance. Oh, Hades!

  She didn’t have to say much more—all of her guests knew why they were there, and the goal they were so perilously close to accomplishing. I looked across at them, studying their faces, watching their eager eyes and their fingers drumming against their glasses. Standing with their chins up, all half-smiling. Most of all, they seemed so hungry.

  “It’s a long time coming. A very long time.”

  The crowd laughed and
elbowed each other, like it was some secret joke they all shared. Remember the night we decided to take over the world? Good times!

  “But we’ve made it. It’s done.”

  Count your successful coups after they hatch, I thought. Unless she’d already done something excessively nasty and this was the celebration of victory. I assumed it was the sendoff for the final patch of fireworks that would incinerate whatever she wanted so badly.

  “Tonight, we suffocate the thieves in their own smoke. We make them regret the moment they defied us. Tonight, we reclaim what is rightfully ours!” Meg raised her glass higher. Everyone raised their glasses with an approving roar, then tipped the strange fluid back into their mouths. Nothing like a stiff drink to temper the end of the world.

  “To Vogahn!” someone shouted before the rest of the room took up the cry.

  “What do you say, darling?” Meg asked me, placing a frozen hand on my shoulder. “Shall we pay President Odyssey a visit?”

  Odyssey? I thought, all at once confused. Who’s Odyssey?

  A second later, I understood.

  Of course. Odyssey, President Odyssey. The deciding senate vote happened ten years prior after the case of The People v. Ala. She was the first magical creature to make herself known, and she established the precedent that allowed Netherworldians to live Earthside. She also heralded the rise of human influence in the Netherworld. The call for open travel between the worlds went up before a modest disagreement in trading policy spiraled into an all-out war. When it was finally over—and all the old government branches and their people had retreated, hidden, surrendered, or died—only one functioning government body was left in the whole damn plane.