The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 24

Empty stone eye socketsstare down at us in haughty disdain. Horns, folded wings tipped with talons,and ugly countenances seem the norm for the gargoyles and demons that haunt thetop of the wall. We’ve walked for nearly a half hour with no sign of anentrance into the Necropolis.

“You said necromancers comehere?” Dace clarifies. I nod. “They must get in somehow.”

“A sigil of some sort,” Zakkwhispers, staring up at the gargoyles. He seems to replace a miniature dragon thatis to his liking. He stands beneath it and begins a spell:

“Awaken minion of mine,

By rite of blood I bind yourlife to mine.

By rite of blood, throughyour eyes

Shall I see.

By rite of blood, power andstrength

Shall you draw from me,

Awaken minion at my sign!”

The heady scent of freshblood taints the air and then Zakk’s crimson stained fingertips trace the air,drawing something in the gargoyle’s direction. A tattoo along his lower backglows baby blue. The dragon gargoyle moves, unfurling its wings. I expect thereto be the sound of stone grinding against itself, the harsh caw of thecreature’s cry. The jerky movements of animated limbs and the gargoyle adjuststo life.

There is none of that.Instead the gargoyle’s movements are nimble, fluid and eerily silent as itcorkscrews down to Zakk’s outstretched forearm. Alighting on it, the dragongargoyle attacks. Its reptilian mouth clamps on Zakk’s forearm in a vicious anddeep bite. I scream. Zakk shudders and falls to his knees. Dace charges, his chakramglowing white hot but Zakk rolls out of the way and uses his body to shield thegargoyle.

“No!” he chokes out, tone strained.He’s as white as notebook paper and deep purple bruises clot the skin beneathhis eyes.

“That thing’s killing you!”Dace bellows.

“He’s right,” Kaminterjects. “We have to get it--”

Zakk shakes his head andfolds around the gargoyle like a cocoon. The effort makes his eyes roll. Blood fromhis forearm crystalizes when it dribbles onto the sand. “Necessary,” hewheezes, “Seals . . . bargain.”

Dace shakes his head indisgust but backs away. The gargoyle feeds for a moment more before it liftsaway. It stares at us and its eyes are no longer empty stone sockets. Two orbs bothferal and intelligent gaze at us with pupils the color of Zakk’s blood. Thecreature’s granite skin gleams with the sheen of vitality and it looks . . .real. Like a baby dragon.

Dragons usually walk on four legs. This is more a wyvern,Vayu corrects.

Dragons exist?

He hesitates for a splitmoment as if debating how much to share. Theyhave long passed from your world.

Something about the way hephrases the answer gives me pause. Arethere other Earths?

You are not the only sentient beings in the universe, though inyour arrogance I suppose you’d think that.

I bristle at his haughtytone. Arrogance--you’d know all aboutthat, huh?

He snorts and I get theimpression that he’s pleased at my attitude.

“It’s called laying aweird,” Zakk clarifies to some question Kamiron has asked. “I animated ourfriend here.” He allows Kamiron to use a ripped strip of his undershirt tobandage the gargoyle’s bite.

“So what’s it supposed todo?” Dace eyes the gargoyle warily. “And will it attack us?”

“No, the gargoyle isentirely under my control and bound to me as my familiar. This guaranteesloyalty.” As if to demonstrate, Zakk reaches out and pets the wyvern’sserpentine neck. It nearly purrs and its spiked tail lashes back and forth.“She’s our guide.”

“She? That thing is a she?” Kam looks as horrified as Dace.

“It’s the impression I getfrom her. She speaks directly to my mind.” Zakk rises and grabs his naginata.“She knows a way in.”

The gargoyle takes to theair, oddly gleeful and at home amongst our somber surroundings. Unlike Kam andDace, I’m not distrustful of the creature. She’s kinda . . . cute.

“We should name her,” Iannounce. Zakk stops and raises his eyebrows. “I mean--you know. Something tocall her. She’s one of us now.”

Kam looks skeptical but Dacejust shrugs. “What about Spikey--for her tail?”

She turns and the look sheshoots Dace can be nothing other than a glare of disapproval.

“Guess that’s a no,” Daceamends as we follow the wall south. “How about Fluffy?”

The wyvern rolls her eyesand gives Zakk a pointed look. A smile tugs at his lips. “She says there is nothing‘fluffy’ about her.”

“What would you like to becalled?” Kamiron offers.

She seems pleased that he’sasked for her input. She circles first Kamiron’s head and then mine.

“She wants Shari to choose.”

I blink at the gargoyle,startled. “Why?”

“You suggested she was apart of our group. And she likes you.”

I tilt my head back andstudy her closely. She is a uniform dark gray with veins of white flowingthrough her scales. Her long neck and angular face are oddly graceful. Her short,stubby forearms and powerful hind legs end in claws reminiscent of a falcon’shooked talons. Floppy, bat-like ears frame eyes that still have the feral lookto them, but now that I’ve bothered to look closer, I detect something deeper.A strange innocence at odds with the brutality of Ater.

“How about Naja?”

She blinks the slow blink ofreptiles and cats. I sense she is waiting for more. “It’s African. It means‘strong’. I think it suits the power you wield.”

If a strange gargoyle wyverncould smile, I think that would be her expression just now. Instead she lookslike a leering dragon of old, all sharp dagger-teeth bared in menace.

“She likes this word, Naja,”Zakk relates. “She is proud to wear the name.”

Naja’s gaze lingers on me asecond longer and then she’s off.

“Think you made a new BFF,”Kamiron whispers, nudging me with his elbow.

Naja leads us to a barestretch of wall much like any other. Zakk examines it before motioning toKamiron. “Naja says these bricks move. The Necromancers use blood sigils butthat is too dark a spell for me. I dare not work anymore blood magic unless Iwant to alert the denizens beyond the wall.”

Naja settles on Zakk’sshoulder like a granite parrot.

“Then what can I do?”

“Telekinesis.”

Dawning lights in his eyesand he places his sledgehammer on the ground head first, the pommel proppedagainst the stone. Kamiron stands before the area that Naja’s indicated andflattens his palms against the unyielding wall. The pads of his fingers caressthe lumpy stones, tracing the crumbling border of loose mortar. Kam shuts hiseyes and his brows bunch in concentration. It seems his breathing stops as hecocks his head to the side as if listening to the stones.

A minute later the wallmoves, the stones parting with the soft hiss of velvet curtains to reveal anarrow opening. Naja darts inside first with two powerful flaps of her wings.Once Zakk gives us the all clear, we follow. It’s bright--brighter than theOnyx and Wastes. The walls gleam with a sheen that provides enough light tosee. Mausoleums, sarcophagi, and crypts line narrow boulevards, and are stackedlike houses complete with tiny yards of cultivated silver-grey ferns and whiteorchids that look like wax.

“Once, when we werestationed in New Orleans,” Dace begins, “My mom and I visited Saint LouisCemetery Number One. Above ground vaults all clustered together like houses . .. historical, really. Steeped in folklore and voodoo, slavery and Creoleculture--but creepy as hell.” He adjusts his glasses and eyes a bronze statueof an angel with broken wings and a head of a grimacing hyena. “That place hasnothin’ on this.”

We grunt in agreement. Najaflaps a few feet in front of us and we follow behind. The Necropolis is justlike an ordinary city with paved streets and thick trees. Ornate decorations lineeach crypt--griffins and owls, vipers and octopi. Everything from the polishedstone lining the roads to the marble statues of fearsome magi are done in huesof white and pale gray.

Unlike a real city, however,is the silence--one that only the grave can possess. It lends the miles ofcemetery a hauntingly beautiful ambience, one of regal abandonment. Yet thesilence of the grave is deceiving. In every crypt, beneath each tombstone reststhe undead, hibernating like bears.

“Why all the undead?”Kamiron whispers. “You said that they require power and magic to control. Whybother?”

“It seems a wasted effort,doesn’t it?” Zakk skirts the yard of an ornate two-story crypt with Greciancolumns and Greek inscriptions. “It would take an army of necromancers tocontrol all the undead here. It takes several dedicated necromancers to justkeep them in stasis. My best guess is--”

“Invading army,” Dacesupplies. I gasp as the dark implication finally clicks. I had never questionedwhy the Necropolis existed, I only knewit was a place even Aterians avoided. I stare at the miles of city with newhorror.

Kamiron looks as troubled asI feel. “Disposable heroes,” he says with a dark look to Dace. “The perfectfoot soldiers to carve a path of destruction for a larger invasion.”

“In terms of militarystrategy, it’s ingenious,” Dace agrees. “Their casualties would be negligible.Who cares about something that’s already dead? Just a mindless zombie, maybe anecromancer or two. As for us . . .”

I wish the both of themwould stop talking. I don’t want to think about Andhakar using an army ofwights and revenants to slaughter everything in their path. There’s no wayordinary humans--people who don’t believe in the paranormal much less havepsychic abilities--would stand a chance.

“We can’t let it get thatfar,” Dace states, his voice flat and determined. “We can’t let Andy reachEarth.”

“We won’t.” Kamiron and Zakkpromise.

I don’t feel nearly ascertain of our chances.

Naja guides us down a widelane that angles north. In the distance the impossibly tall ziggurat with itschunky, steep sides and hundreds of steps glowers down at us. Runes glow inmuted white across its surface. Again my stomach lurches as if I’ve eaten badtuna but it doesn’t hide the tingle that runs up my arm and pulsates just beneathmy heart.

“The tether is ahead, inthere . . . somewhere.”

We creep forward. Our shoessound impossibly loud on the cement. Naja wings out of sight, up and over atriangular roof with a stylized silver cross. She’s gone for no more than asecond before she returns. Her tail lashes in quick circles. Her stone wingsbeat triple time in clear agitation.

“Naja says the road turnsinto a large courtyard--one that is incredibly exposed.” Zakk winces when Najalands on his shoulder, her talons digging into flesh. She immediately loosensher grip. “There is a group there.”

“Great. What are they doing?”

“Having a séance.”

I stare at Zakk, sure he’sjoking but his grim expression says otherwise.

“So we go around,” Dace shrugs.Zakk shakes his head.

“There is only one way tothe ziggurat--one road, and it starts at that courtyard.”

“In that case,” Kam muses,“we should to get closer. See what’s going on. Maybe we’ll come up with asolution.”

I know he’s right, but Idon’t want to go anywhere near the group. No doubt they’re necromancers. Morethan ever I just want to go home--at this point I’d even settle for Camp Genki.I never thought I’d miss the riot of greens that make up Starjungle.

Heart beating staccato in mythroat, I follow behind Kamiron and Zakk. Sure enough there are a half-dozennecromancers spread out in a kind of pentagram.

Unfortunately Naja failed tomention the giant chained monster hunched in the middle of the circle of mages.

“What the hell is thatthing?”

“A lich,” Zakk whispers,awed.

It’s hideous. A giantcreature that is a hodgepodge of other creatures. Scowling lipless face. Eyeswithout lids, but with features sewn together from other undead. Tufts of brownhair dangle from a warty scalp that bristles with age spots and sores. Skinlike leather stretches tight over bulging muscles. A pair of pants made fromrotted burlap cover its long legs. A barbed whip, twenty-feet long and thickerthan my waist curls near one of its gargantuan hands.

The necromancers have formedsome sort of caster circle. I expected them to don dark robes, the heavy cowlshiding the twisted features of their faces but they are surprisingly . . .beautiful. Males and females with radiant skin and enchanting eyes sportVictorian style clothes. The females wear intricate petticoats and full skirtsin hues of burgundy, obsidian, and the off-white of a bloodless corpse. Theirmale counterparts, luxurious hair falling to their waists, stand tall in fittedvests the purple of a ripening evening. Elaborate top hats and fur-lined capescompliment stylish wooden canes.

But while they may dress inthe regalia from a bygone human era, they are not human and never were. Theircheekbones are too sharp, their bodies--thin and lean and long--are tooperfect, too enthralling. Their eyes, ranging in color from cobalt to fuchsiaare a bit too large, too old.

“Unseelie.” The wind goes out of me and I scoot back in a tacticalretreat. At least, that’s what I’m calling my terrified scuttle back to thesafety of our cluster of tombstones and sarcophagi. Grim faces crowd aroundmine.

“So those are Unseelie,”Dace exhales. The heel of his sneaker taps a nervous rhythm against the cornerof a sarcophagus.

“Not just Unseelie, butSidhe. Nobles of the Winter Court. I could feel their power and there is no waywe can compete. Right now they’re distracted, but they’ll sense us immediatelyafter the ritual.” Zakk stares down at his bandaged forearm. The green fabricis black with his blood.

“So what do we do to getpast them?” Kamiron, the bravest of us all, looks solemn but no lessdetermined. I wish I had his unshakeable resolve.

“We’ll need a diversion,”Zakk answers simply. “We should split up.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Isputter.

“Sounds like a great idea,”Dace says and for once he isn’t being sarcastic. “Do we rock-paper-scissors?”

I round on him, glowering.“And clearly you’ve lost your mind, too!”

Naja hisses and glares atme. I wince as my voice travels through the empty streets. Naja takes to thenearest roof and stills, becoming just like the other gargoyles and statuesthat litter the Necropolis.

When a magical bolt oflightning or a flaming ball of dark energy fails to flay the skin from mybones, I continue in a much more subdued voice. “This isn’t some bad horrormovie. Look, we don’t split up. Ever.Right, Kam?”

His gray eyes are dark andhe seems to be lost in thought--or listening to something else.

Vayu, are you talking to him?

No, he cannot hear me.

The emphasis he places onthe word “me” confirms my suspicion that there is someone else speaking to Kamiron. Finally he gives his head ashallow nod and meets my gaze.

“They’re right, we need adistraction.” His attention turns to his friends. “I volunteer.”

Dace rolls his eyes. “Relax,District Twelve, you’re not gonna be a Tribute. That honor belongs to me andGandalf here.”

Zakk looks bemused. Dacetaps the side of his wire-framed glasses. “Powers of perception, Gandalf.You’ve been staring at your forearm and my new tattoo for the past fiveminutes.” He absently rubs the black handprint marring his wrist. “I’m guessingour LARPing friends can sense these.”

Zakk’s lips quirk. “Astute.And correct.” To me he explains, “My blood, the magic in it, calls to them nowthat it’s been spilled. Dace’s mark is like a beacon--a sign advertising abuffet. The lich will go for it once it’s free. We’ll buy you time and meet upat the ziggurat.”

Fear seizes me, but for thefirst time it’s a fear for my friends. For Zakk’s gentle reassurance. ForDace’s razor sharp wit. I have an unshaking foreboding that we won’t all makeit to the other side.

Kamiron’s fingers curlaround mine, careful of my tender nails. “What do you need us to do, Z?”

Zakk outlines a plan--simpleenough. We wait for his signal. While they draw the attention of the necromancersaway, we swing to the west for a couple blocks and then double back to thecourtyard. We’ll approach the ziggurat and wait for Naja. If we see her, followher to where Zakk and Dace wait.

If we don’t see her, wecontinue for the tether.

Dace and Zakk confer inheated whispers before Zakk motions for us to get into position. Kam starts totug me away but I force him to wait. I launch myself at Zakk, temporarilyforgetting his injured forearm. He grunts but envelops me in a hug.

“You promise you’ll comeback.”

“I can’t make that promise,Shari,” he admits and a whisper of sensation, like taking a hot shower after anintense workout, washes over me. It steals away some of my wild panic.

“Then take this.”

I slip one of my arrows inhis palm. He gives me a surprised glance. I shrug. “Might come in handy.”

I hand Dace another arrow,pulling it from thin air as easily as breathing. “‘May the odds be ever in yourfavor,’” I quote and plant a kiss on his cheek.

He blushes but quicklycovers it with a scowl. “Alright get goin’, Golden Compass.”

“Hurry,” Zakk urges. “Naja says the lich is waking.”

Kamiron salutes hisfriends and takes my hand. We run.