Torn. Part 12

"You'll be wantin' to keep your jewelry on," Luc called to me, his eyes never leaving my attacker as he dropped into a crouch. "Least for the next little while."

"He's got a knife!" I cried.

"More'n a knife," he replied. "How 'bout you sit tight, hmn?"

Suddenly, the thing lunged for Luc, who jumped out of the way and pulled from behind him-I swear to G.o.d-an actual sword. It gleamed where the moonlight touched it, intricate patterning all the way to the handle, and Luc looked crazy-comfortable with it, his whole body lithe and relaxed and ready. Relief poured through me as I watched, but terror shoved back against it.

Luc lunged and parried, the blade flas.h.i.+ng like lightning. I could hear him muttering, and the harsh, sibilant cries of the creature as it lashed out with vicious strokes.

"He killed Verity! He's one of them!" I shouted, gripping the bars. They bit into my skin, icy cold despite the warm night.

Luc ignored me, busy attacking, retreating, chanting. I strained to hear the words over the sound of clas.h.i.+ng metal and my own ragged breaths. The wind picked up. With a grunt, he hacked at the thing's arm, and it fell away as screams filled my ears.

There was no blood, only a rush of foul air, like something was rotting. The coat had torn away and I could see, not an arm exactly, but something that, long ago, might have been an arm. Now it was just bone, patches of decayed flesh, tatters of leathery skin. I pressed a fist to my mouth as bile rose up.

Luc vaulted backward as the thing lashed out with its remaining arm, and one talonlike finger caught his shoulder blade, slicing deep. He gave a sharp cry, falling back for an instant, but kept fighting.

"Mouse, need you to come on out," he called, his voice sounding strained for the first time.

He'd circled around, putting himself between me and the thing, almost close enough for me to touch him through the bars. Crimson bloomed across the back of his s.h.i.+rt like a crushed flower.

"But . . ."

The thing screamed raucously. The moon disappeared, plunging the park back into darkness.

"He's calling his friends," Luc growled. "Now, Mouse."

I crawled out, banging my shoulder and tripping. I landed on my hands and knees, so weak I had to use the bars to pull myself up. Luc kept moving with a grace and intensity that would have been breathtaking if I wasn't so afraid of dying.

He raked a glance over me, nodded once, and beat the thing back, burying the blade in its chest, pulling it out with a revolting sucking sound. It crumpled to the ground, writhing. Whirling, he chanted and slashed at the air with the sword-one, two, three times. The blade flared and where he had cut, a line of ruby-gold flame appeared. The flickering lights hovered in the air, nearly as tall as me, creating a shape like a doorway. Outside the lines, the playground stood in shadow, but inside was an inky, unnatural darkness. Even the flames, blood red at the center fading to orange-white edges, couldn't illuminate it. It crackled and snapped, like a real fire, but I didn't feel any heat coming off it at all.

The creature staggered upright, heading for Luc. I screamed a warning. Luc cursed and hacked at it again, a violent burst of speed forcing it back. With the blade still gleaming strangely, he grabbed my wrist, yanking me toward him.

"Don't let go," he said. "No matter what."

The thing howled behind me, and I looked over Luc's shoulder-two more figures had appeared out of the shadows. I clutched Luc's arm. His fingers wrapped more tightly around me. We fell through the door of flame.

CHAPTER 11.

I fell-just like in a nightmare, falling and falling into endless black. I flailed for something to slow myself, but my arm was held fast, and the tumble into nothingness continued.

People say if you fall in your dreams and hit the bottom, you'll never wake up. So when we landed, and I slammed into the bottom of my nightmare, I was convinced I'd died.

I lay for a moment, facedown against something cool and smooth, my eyes squeezed tight. Next to me, something moved, and I curled into the tiniest ball imaginable. Dead or alive, it was better not to be seen.

Luc's voice was ragged. "Take off the ring."

I opened my eyes and saw polished wood underneath me. There was hardwood flooring in the afterlife?

"The ring, Mouse. Off. Now." He reached for my hand.

"Am I dead? Are you dead, too?"

"If you don't get that ring off in the next five seconds, yes."

Weakly, I tugged at it. The s.h.i.+ning circle slid easily off my icy finger.

He held out his hand-the one that wasn't gripping a sword.

"Uh-uh." I curled my fingers around it. "Not yours." A wave of nausea hit me, and I must have turned a really nasty shade of green, because Luc dropped the sword and half hauled me through the darkness, depositing me in a whitetiled bathroom. I heard him speak in that silvery language, and a light came on.

I held myself together for as long as it took Luc to flee back down the hallway, and then I sank down to the toilet and promptly threw up everything I'd eaten in the last month.

When I was finally done, shaky but stronger, I rinsed my mouth out and washed my face, trying to figure out what had just happened.

I wasn't dead. I'd been in the park, and then those . . . things were there, and then Luc was there, and then I was here. Wherever here was.

Luc knew. He knew all sorts of things. The answers to my questions, for example. I reached for the side of the sink, unsteady but with a new resolve.

Carefully, I unwound the scarf, wincing at the spots where it had rubbed my skin raw. The ring was still clutched in my hand, leaving a perfectly circular red mark. I slipped it back onto its chain and let it dangle around my neck in plain view. True, it highlighted my complete lack of cleavage, but it was also my only bargaining chip, and I wanted it on display. I had a feeling Luc wouldn't dismiss me quite so easily while I had the ring. I took one last look in the mirror, shook my head at the disaster reflected back at me, and shrugged. It could have been worse. The thing in the park might have gotten me.

I shuddered, and went to find Luc, limping on my bad ankle.

The living room we'd pa.s.sed through earlier was empty, and a soft, humid breeze scented the air with something sweet. Despite the heat, a small fire burned in a marble hearth. I brushed my fingers over a polished ivory statue sitting on a narrow table. The furniture was a mix of well-worn antiques and sleek modern pieces. Scattered about the room as carelessly as I dropped magazines were sculptures and art pieces, both cla.s.sical and primitive, from around the world. Everything in the room was a strangely harmonious, clearly expensive mishmash.

I found Luc standing by a set of half-open French doors. His expression was impossible to make out. For a moment, I wondered if he'd spotted the things from the park, if they'd followed us, but the way he stood didn't seem to show any kind of fear. Exhaustion, yes, and so much tension he practically vibrated where he stood. But nothing that hinted we were about to be attacked again.

He turned toward me. Light from the fire threw shadows across his face. The sword was gone. He'd changed into a black linen s.h.i.+rt, open at the throat, and threadbare jeans slung low on his hips. His hair fell damply into his face, jet strands contrasting with his tawny skin, making him look as exotic as the rest of the room.

"Feeling better?" He took my arm, like an old-fas.h.i.+oned gentleman who also happened to be a pirate.

I knocked his hand away. "What in the h.e.l.l was that?"

He looked down at his arm, deliberately misunderstanding me. "Where I come from, we call it manners."

"Don't give me the aw-shucks routine," I snapped. "The thing, in the park. What was that? Why did you have a sword? How did we get here? And where are we, anyway? I want answers. Now."

He took my arm again, less gently, and propelled me across the room to the couch. "Sit."

"No. I am done following instructions, sword-boy. Start talking."

He shrugged. "Suit y'self."

After walking over to an intricately carved sideboard, he poured a gla.s.s of something the same pale gold as his skin. He raised the gla.s.s in a mock toast and took a healthy swallow. I stood fidgeting while he studied me like a scientist would examine a specimen pinned to a board. The silence stretched thinner and thinner, until I broke it. "You owe me an explanation."

"Your concept of grat.i.tude needs a little refinin'. I just saved your life." He shook his head, smug again.

I started toward him, fists clenched. Sword or no sword, I'd get the truth if I had to beat it out of him.

When we were almost toe-to-toe, he smiled, slow and easy. "You interested in a trade?" His eyes slid to the ring around my neck. "I'm partial to jewelry."

I didn't even think. "No way."

"You were ready to deal in the park."

"Because that thing was trying to kill me."

He smiled again, and there was nothing easy about it. I crossed my arms and stared back.

"Nothing in the world is free. If you ain't learned that yet, you're dumber than I thought." He took another drink, looking as if he hadn't thought me very bright to begin with. "Something about you don't add up, you know that? How 'bout this: answers for answers, Mouse. Final offer."

"How will I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because you'd like a lie better. We got a deal?"

I didn't trust him. I didn't like him, either, with his smugness and his secrets, no matter how enjoyable he was to look at. Then again, he'd saved my life. He cared about Verity. And since I didn't actually know anything, I'd be coming out ahead.

I stuck out my hand to shake. Instead, he brushed his lips over my knuckles, keeping those jade-colored eyes on mine.

"Pleasure doin' business," he murmured.

It was the breeze from the balcony making me s.h.i.+ver.

"I'll go first," he said. "Where'd Vee hide the ring? We've been searchin' everywhere."

"In a snow globe," I admitted. "She collects them."

He laughed, the sound startling and genuine. "Cheap-a.s.s-lookin' thing? So ugly they should've paid her to take it, not the other way 'round?"

I nodded, smiling despite myself. "You knew about it?"

"She said it was too nasty to buy. Said Evangeline would drop dead before she let that thing into her home." He shook his head. "And you figured it out."

"I know the way she thinks. Thought," I corrected myself. The easy moment evaporated. "My turn."

He strode into an adjoining kitchen. "Fire away."

"What were those things in the park?" I sat down on the couch, crumpling the scarf in my hands, then setting it on the nearby table. Finally, I said what I hadn't allowed myself to think since the night of the murder. It was easier to ask when I couldn't see his face. "They weren't human, were they?"

I heard him rummaging in the cabinets, but he didn't respond immediately. "Once, maybe. Not anymore. They're Darklings."

"Darklings?" A bubble of hysterical laughter broke loose. "Like, what, nocturnal ducks?"

He came back with a plate in one hand, a teacup and saucer in the other. "Think of them like the monsters under your bed when you were little."

"Not real?" I asked, candy sweet.

He scowled. "How's your ankle? Feel like something real got hold of it? Darklings are nightmares. Doesn't mean they aren't real."

I didn't move.

"You saw what one of them can do. How many were in the alley with you and Vee? Six? Seven?"

"I don't know," I whispered, wis.h.i.+ng I didn't believe him. "Lots."

"That many Darklings on a hunt, it's a miracle you survived." He handed me the cup, raised his gla.s.s. "To miracles," he said, eyes on mine.

"To . . . miracles," I echoed, and tasted the strong, sweet tea. For a split second, the air around us seemed to quiver. I tightened my grip on the cup. "Verity tried to fight them. She knew they were coming, I think."

"She would have felt them going Between."

"She knew about them?" Another one of Verity's secrets. Darklings, Luc, jewelry that probably cost more than a car. "What happened to her this summer? She was fine before. Everything was fine. We had plans. She went down to New Orleans, and everything changed. What did you do to her?"

"n.o.body did anything. It's who she was."

"She was a teenage girl!"

"She was meant for more, and more's what got her killed." His hands curled into fists and flexed open again. "You're so desperate for the truth, Mouse? Here it is. The Darklings ain't human. Verity wasn't just some girl. She had magic, and a destiny, and she came to New Orleans to claim 'em both. Somebody was trying to stop her, set the Darklings on her. They killed her, and now we all pay."

I stared at him, every rational cell in me fighting against his words, my heart stuttering in my chest. "There's no such thing as magic."

His voice was laced with scorn. "Yeah? How'd we get here?"

"A cab, maybe? Your car? The details are a little fuzzy."

He shook his head. "Look outside."

I walked to the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. The second-story porch overlooked a street filled with sidewalk cafes and tiny shops. Couples strolled along, laughing, swinging shopping bags and holding hands. Breezy accordion music spilled into the night. I'd seen this view on Verity's data card. Luc, standing on the balcony, the city behind him. She'd stood here, this exact spot, and taken the picture. My knees loosened, and I clung to the railing. Then I limped back inside. Anger felt more comfortable than confusion.

"You kidnapped me? I pa.s.sed out and you brought me to New Orleans? You don't think anyone's going to notice I'm missing?" Colin was going to kill me when he realized I'd flouted every rule and precaution he'd set up. Even more annoying than my impending death was the fact he'd been right. "What day is it? How long have I been gone?"

He shook his head wearily. "Same day. 'Bout fifteen minutes since we left the park."

"You're crazy." Verity had been wrong to trust Luc. I could see that now. I thought he was trustworthy, but now that I knew she'd been mistaken . . . I started to drift toward the door, looking around for a weapon. There was a carved wooden statue of a bird that looked heavy enough to do some damage.

"Where you gonna go, Mouse? Strange city, no purse, bad ankle? Use some of that brain Verity was always braggin' on. I won't hurt you." He advanced on me, hands up to show he was harmless. "Sit down and eat your toast. You'll feel better."

"Right."

"I brought you here with magic. I'll take you back the same way, once we're done. But we had a deal."