Lost Grace (The Reminiscent Exile Book 4) Read online

  Up ahead, a sawing sound like rusted chains grating together followed the crow’s cry. Like nails on a chalkboard in that deathly quiet city, the screech-creak-screech put me on edge.

  As Arlon had said, once we walked past the next block the grid-like pattern of the Atlas Lexicon gave way to rings of streets and curved lines of buildings, disappearing east and west around the bend. Wide open spaces sat between the rings, linked through promenades, bridges across quays and rivers, and if not for the deluge of sordid light from above, the area would have been green and vibrant with inner city parks.

  …ssscreeeaakk…

  The parkland was marred grey and black by the mix of purple-red light striking what should have been emerald-green grass. In the heart of the park stood a set of children’s play equipment: moulded plastic slides, wooden climbing frames and monkey bars, and in a pit of woodchips just off to the side, a set of swings.

  The god-awful noise—…ssscreeaak…— emanated from the metal chain links of the swing. A pretty woman, olive skin, dressed in a white blouse, blue jeans, and a pair of killer knee-high leather boots, swung back and forth. She saw us on the edge of the park and waved us over with a wide, beautiful smile. Even from distance, her teeth shone clear and white.

  I drew in a sharp breath and felt my heart skip a few nervous beats. I’d been expecting this, or something like it, but it still hurt to be right, to see. My allies looked to me, noted my discomfort.

  “That doesn’t seem right,” Caitlin said, frowning at the woman. “Is this the trap we’re meant to fall into, Declan?”

  “I fell into this one years ago…” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. “Come on, let’s go say hello. Stay behind me. That woman will be… cruel.”

  With soft and spongy grass underfoot, we crossed the park and came to the edge of the play equipment—to the edge of the woodchip pit holding the set of swings. The woman smiled at me, perfect angular features, soft ringlets of hair brushing her shoulders. I knew that face, knew it didn’t belong to the creature of ageless hate staring out at me from behind green eyes.

  She cocked her head at the spare swing next to her.

  “Wait here for me,” I told my companions and handed Arlon my shotgun. “I need you not to interfere. This won’t take more than a few minutes.”

  I walked over and sat in the passenger seat, idly kicking my legs back and forth, getting a slow swing going.

  “How long has it been for you?” the woman said quietly. She reached out for my hand, wrapped gently around the swing chain, then thought better of it and pulled her hand away.

  “For me?” I shook my head. “Just over a week since leaving Atlantis.”

  Anger flashed in those beautiful eyes. Overhead, arcs of wicked red lightning tore across the surface of the shield surrounding the Lexicon. The woman took a deep breath, visibly calmed herself, and the lightning faded.

  “It has been… far longer for me,” she whispered. “How dare you have things so easy. Was all of this part of your plan?”

  I shook my head. “We’re way off book here. None of this,” I waved at the shield, the empty city, the tears in my clothing and splashes of blood and ichor from the battle to enter the city, “was what I wanted. I didn’t know she could pull you from your last vessel. No, I didn’t want this.”

  “What did you want?” she hissed, spat. “Give me the pleasure of knowing what you were denied.”

  I chuckled. “I won’t be baited so easily.”

  Her face changed from hostile to friendly in the blink of an eye. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  “Say that again, it almost makes you sound human, Ash.”

  Dread Ash of the Everlasting swung sideways into me, giving me a gentle nudge. A wave of cold air, wholly unnatural, battered me to the side as I swung back in a slow figure-eight before righting the swing.

  “There were several thousand people in this city,” I said.

  “They’re alive, for the most part, secluded themselves away in the western towers and various levels of the Vale Crystalis. I have no quarrel with them. Do they know all of this mess is your fault?”

  I shook my head. “No. Perhaps some suspicions, but then I was here long before this city even existed. If anything, they’re getting in my way.”

  Dread Ash’s eyes flashed. She laughed. “Such wonderful arrogance. You would have made a fine Everlasting, Declan Hale.”

  “Oh perish the thought.” Annie and the others watched from a safe distance, forty feet or so away. We were speaking quietly enough not to be overhead. “What’s your end game here?”

  “You know why I’m here, why now. It is your design.”

  “You think so, eh?” I ran a hand back through my hair. “Do I look like a man with a plan, Ash?”

  She frowned. “No, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that anymore. We may not have taken you seriously in the past—or the future, depending on how you look at it—we may have underestimated you to our detriment, but no more. The Everlasting see you, Declan Hale. We see you very well.”

  I tried not to let it show just how much that frightened me. Who was I to fight the gods? To wage the wars? At times I felt my age—twenty seven, young and dumb, and way out of my depth.

  “What is your end game?” Dread Ash asked.

  I shrugged at that. “Stand in your way, I suppose.”

  “I may just kill you now. If no accord can be reached.” Dread Ash shrugged. “Give up True Earth to us, Declan. Stop getting in our way. Most of my family wants you dead, but I’d hate to waste such fire.” She bit her lip. “Yes, I may just kill you now. Save the heartache later.”

  “You know you can’t, not yet. Not until you figure out the terribly awful plan.” I considered, then nodded. I’ll recover the blade, then all bets are off.

  “And what’s to stop me killing your friends over there? You wronged me, Declan. If for no other reason than it pleases me to watch them die, I will kill them.”

  I nodded. Same old bluster, same old… high stakes. Likelihood and consequence. “Absolutely nothing. I doubt I could stop you. I’d much rather you didn’t. If you kill them outside of combat, I will consider it in poor taste and remove myself from the playing field.”

  Dread Ash’s eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open, she gaped, then recovered. “You’d kill yourself?”

  “And trap you back where you belong for all eternity,” I said. “No more fun and games in the real world.” I offered her half a grin. “Come now, I thought the Everlasting would have jumped at such an opportunity. To have my out of your hair after all these years, all these petty victories, betrayals, defeats…”

  “The petal of the Infernal Clock in your heart won’t allow you to die,” she said. “You are the Immortal King.”

  “Fair Astoria certainly thought so.” I said her name idly, as if it were a minor thing, of no real importance.

  Dread Ash began to cry. “My sister is dead and you killed her.”

  There we would have to disagree. Emily, sweet Emily Grace, had made her own choices—a very long time ago now. My influence may have been responsible for swaying some of those choices, but a woman as remarkable as Emily knew the risk, chose the risk.

  Ash kicked at the woodchips beneath her, two grooves cut through the mulch with the tips of her boots. “You blinded my brother, defeated Scion, you humiliated Oblivion. How you’ve survived this long, made such enemies, is perhaps the most absurd thing in all creation. What are you planning this time, Declan?”

  “I made my intentions clear to you in Atlantis. Ten thousand years ago, Ash.” I stood up from my swing and moved to stand in front of her. Her boots struck my shins gently as I pulled her swing to a stop. Here I knelt on my knees and took her hands in my own. Her fingers were cold, frightfully cold. “I will stand against the Everlasting with everything I have, with every ounce of my strength. I will fight you all. I will kill you all. So make the smart choice, make the only choice, like Fair Astoria did all those years a
go. Give up your conquest of the Story Thread.”

  Dread Ash smiled sadly. She cupped my cheek with one of her hands. I shivered from the cold. “You have no clue just how much Astoria violated when she gave up her grace, do you? What she set in motion? The attention she has drawn down upon all the worlds you hold so dear? Once upon a time, Declan, as all good stories should begin,” she smiled, “we Everlasting were guardians of the Story Thread. Against the nightmares that lurk in the darkest depths, the forgotten reaches of the Void and beyond.”

  “There’s nothing beyond the Void. Just more Void.”

  “We will reclaim our guardianship,” Dread Ash said. “It’s for your own damn good, you know.”

  A long moment passed between us, and we said more to each other in that moment than in any amount of conversation. There was no middle ground here, no resolution. The fight could not be avoided. The battlefield was chosen, the stakes raised beyond impossible.

  I leaned forward, inclined my head up, and placed a delicate kiss, feather-light, on her pink lips.

  “That was nice,” Dread Ash said, her smile soft, sly, slow.

  “It wasn’t for you,” I said.

  She scowled—near snarled—green eyes flared purple with hate, anger, and something that may have been envy. Dread Ash pushed away from me and disappeared from the swing in a rush of white sparks, ash on the wind, she faded away. I sighed and stood, the empty rubber seat striking my knees. So much for diplomacy.

  I stared at the empty swing for a good ten seconds before shaking my head and walking away. My allies—my friends, at least Annie—stared at me lost, confused, uncertain.

  “Who was that?” Caitlin asked.

  “That was the Everlasting Dread Ash,” I said. No sense in pretending otherwise. They’d all seen her anger strike the shield, all seen her turn to sparks.

  Arlon cursed, Caitlin’s eyes bulged so wide I feared they’d pop out of her skull. Only Annie showed no reaction, but I saw her mind working, felt her putting the pieces together.

  “Whose body was she possessing?” Annie said quietly, the question not so much a question as a confirmation. “That was Tal, wasn’t it? Tal Levy. Oh, Declan, what have you done?”

  I tried to meet her gaze but the shame, the ache in my heart and the scar on my very soul, was too much. I fell to my knees overwhelmed with the scope, the loss, and wept from my one good eye.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ACROSS THE SQUARE

  (You’ll break. We all break, eventually)

  “You need a drink,” Annie said, and hauled me up under my arm with her free hand, her other wrapped around that magnificent revolver. “Dry your eye, princess.”

  I snorted. Coming from Annie, her words helped me get a hold of myself. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s been a long year. I never thought we’d be here…”

  “Are you going to explain what’s going on?” Annie asked. She wasn’t demanding, wasn’t angry, just asking me if now was the time to confess to the whole sordid affair or not.

  I considered, then shook my head. “No, not now. I’m hoping you’ll still have some good advice for me, once I finish the Atlantis story.”

  “Will you have chance to finish it?” she asked. “Things seem awful grim here, Declan.”

  I recovered my shotgun, comforted by the familiar weight. Arlon and Caitlin were sending me mixed signals—concern, fear, distrust. I sniffed and did a slow count to five in my head. By four, I was calm, back in the zone.

  “Tal is the only person in existence who can do that to me,” I said. “She’s always been… far more than I deserve. Come on, we have to hurry.”

  “The Vale Crystalis?” Arlon asked.

  I nodded. “Listen, can you hear that?”

  I angled my head back down toward the city blocks we’d walked from the edge of the shield. Something on the air, not carried on the wind, but gaining on us nevertheless. From the towers and buildings marking our path, Dread Ash’s army of fell creatures and deadlings tumbled onto the street.

  “Ah,” Caitlin said. “Oh dear.”

  Dozens became hundreds in a matter of seconds. Now that we’d had our palaver, our intentions made shamefully clear, Ash was playing to win.

  “Ahead, too, but not as many,” Arlon said. “We can punch through that to the Vale Crystalis if we hurry.”

  We set off across the park at a steady jog—I was eager to sprint, we all were—but too much chance of something surprising us that way. The parkland gave way to a city street on the inner circle of buildings surrounding the Vale Crystalis. Here were a handful of deadlings and not much else, a few overturned vehicles, and we quickly outpaced the walking dead.

  Arlon and Caitlin led us down a back alley between streets and to a row of cafés and restaurants, high balconies, overlooking the square at the very heart of the Atlas Lexicon. Behind us, still some distance away, vicious shrieks, terrible roars, and unpleasant growls filled the air. We were being hunted by things far worse than the rank and file deadlings.

  The square, about two hundred feet across and the same wide, leading up to the polished limestone stairs and the entrance to the monumental tower, the Vale Crystalis, was swarming with deadlings and a few of those ragged hound-like creatures. Not with fifty fresh soldiers could we get through that unscathed, if at all.

  “Bugger,” I said.

  “To the east,” Caitlin whispered. “We don’t actually need to get into the tower directly. See the skybridges up there? Connecting the Vale Crystalis to the accommodation towers? If we can get into one of those buildings and work our way up, we can cross at the bridges into the Crystalis.”

  “It’s a plan,” Annie said. “I like it.”

  We hopped barriers along the row of balconies, two at a time, handing weapons and gear back and forth, already working as a well-oiled machine. Battle did that, as did the constant threat of death. Work together or die. Arlon made short work of the few deadlings in our path, cutting them down silently with his energy blade, and we skirted the edge of the large square, jumping over fountains and pushing our way through hedges and flowerbeds.

  It was this quick, careful movement, killing anything in our path, that got us to Apartment Block 12, a shiny glass tower built across the street from the Vale Crystalis. The doors were barricaded, security screens in place, and that was as good sign. Once again tossing my shotgun to Annie, I summoned some Willful light into my hand, grasped the roller door protecting the building, and yanked it up with a grunt of effort.

  The thick metal-mesh screen roared in protest, but rose about four feet. Enough to break the glass door beyond and shuffle my allies into the foyer of the apartment block. Once we were in, I forced the security screen back down and melted the broken lock into the floor. Crude, ugly, but secure again.

  We took a moment to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Out of the fire, for now, but for how long?

  “How do you intend to clear the Lexicon of this filth?” Arlon asked me.

  I slumped down in one of the leather couches in the foyer’s centre. The ground floor of the apartment block resembled a hotel lobby—comfortable couches, a café and bar, reception desk—though it was empty, abandoned. Where were the residents? Further up, if Ash was to be believed, and I’ll say this for the Everlasting, they didn’t lie.

  Clever with the truth, selective, but never outright deceit.

  I carried a sneaking suspicion that they couldn’t lie.

  “We need to bring that shield down,” I said. “It’ll most likely close the rift, the tear in reality, where the filth, as you say, is crawling through.”

  “It will also allow Lord Winter to lead a much stronger attack force—the Dawn Mercenaries from the Restless Cemetery, at the very least—into the city,” Caitlin said. “Yes, our goal should be the shield.”

  “How do we bring it down?” Annie asked. “The streets will be crawling with deadlings and worse before too long. We’re trapped. Trapped again.”

  They looked to me, as i
f I had all the answers. Which was fair. I had most of the answers, and none of them were kind. Delaying the inevitable, I checked the load on my shotgun, rechambered a shell, took it out again, put it back in.

  “Declan?” Annie said.

  “It’s simple, really, Annie. Straightforward. We just need to severe the link.” I shrugged. “We just need to destroy Dread Ash.”

  Arlon whistled low between his teeth. “And you can do that? Kill an Everlasting?”

  I shrugged again, entirely noncommittal, refusing to commit. Zero commitment.

  “Let’s make for the Vale Crystalis,” I said. “We need reinforcements, more Will casters, soldiers, if we can get them. I sure hope the elevators are working. I don’t want to have to climb fifty flights of stairs.”

  We had to climb fifty flights of stairs.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE VALE CRYSTALIS

  (I like my scotch old enough to order its own scotch)

  From the roof of the apartment complex stretched a crystal skybridge, forty feet wide, across to the twice as high tower of the Vale Crystalis. We all needed a moment to recover after the drudge march up the stairs, me most of all, having expended a legion’s worth of power fighting the deadlings and breaching the shield.

  The rooftop of the building, one of the taller towers in the Lexicon, was a wide-open space comprised of coffee carts and a shuttle station. Like the rest of the city, there was no power, all was quiet. The lack of other living souls was beginning to grate. It felt wrong. We made for the skybridge, sticking to the middle of the crystal structure, though railings four-feet high guarded against the fall.

  From this vantage point, I could see down into the square and some of the streets we had taken to get this far. The ground below crawled with stumbling deadlings, thousands of them, and much faster moving creatures darted among them—a swarm of evil decay.

  “Hey! You lot, stop there!” cried a voice on the Vale Crystalis side of the bridge.

  The four of us obeyed and came to a stop about three-quarters of the way along the length of the skybridge. Overhead, the purple-red sky weighed down on me, a heaviness I felt on my shoulders as an actual weight.