Pure Blood Part 27

I lay in the circle with the blue lines of manifested magick crackling over me, watching as Seamus marched back to the Skull, breaking the circle's bonds. It didn't matter. He had what he needed.

"Tatum lucidium," Seamus read reverently from the Skull. Seamus read reverently from the Skull. "Tatum nocturnum. Infine mortis, lucium est." "Tatum nocturnum. Infine mortis, lucium est." He kept chanting, low and measured, but I was floating. I saw a bright halo of gold surround everything in the room, and felt cold, but not from my skin. He kept chanting, low and measured, but I was floating. I saw a bright halo of gold surround everything in the room, and felt cold, but not from my skin. This This was dying, not the horrible pain I'd experienced as when I read the Skull. This cool nothingness was the end, and I knew it as sure as I knew that I'd failed and Seamus had won. was dying, not the horrible pain I'd experienced as when I read the Skull. This cool nothingness was the end, and I knew it as sure as I knew that I'd failed and Seamus had won.

No. No, I hissed to myself. I may be weak but I was a survivor. I would live. Battered and broken, I would live because the were would not let me die. No matter how much it hurt, this would not kill me. This was not the way everything ended. I hissed to myself. I may be weak but I was a survivor. I would live. Battered and broken, I would live because the were would not let me die. No matter how much it hurt, this would not kill me. This was not the way everything ended.

"No," I whimpered, because that was all that came out. "No."

Seamus's chanting stopped and he turned around when I spoke. "What in all things Hexed and holy!" he demanded. "That should have killed you!"

Holy c.r.a.p, I was really talking. I wasn't floating up toward the ceiling, going toward the light and all that nonsense. My body hurt way too much for that.

Know that I have aided you. The cold wasn't dying, it was the daemon in me, the protection he'd afforded me with his own obscene parody of a life force. The cold wasn't dying, it was the daemon in me, the protection he'd afforded me with his own obscene parody of a life force.

"I know," I muttered. "I know."

The last vestiges of Asmodeus's magick sighed in me and then they bled away, and I just hurt, and felt heavy enough to sink through the floor. But I was alive. Burned, but alive.

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h," I ground at Seamus, rolling onto my side and making it to my knees. "That was the last jacket I owned."

The gold aural glow still flickered softly around me and I stood, shaking off the residual flickers of magick and walking toward Seamus. He stared at me, uncomprehending, until I was almost on him. His eyes were pure black now, and his skin was waxy. The carvings on the Skull were the same pulsating black, alive and crawling over Seamus's skin.

Hex it. Even with my Lazarus act, I was too late.

Seamus turned and bolted up the stairs to the roof, leaving the Skull to rattle on the marble tiles. I guess he didn't need it anymore.

I followed Seamus, heard the shrieking chant from the stairs, and banged open the door to find him with his arms outstretched and roiling clouds in the sky overhead.

"Infinitum obscura!" Seamus bellowed, and as I watched in horror the clouds coalesced in front of the sun, plunging Nocturne City into blue twilight as if a vengeful G.o.d had stretched out his hand. Seamus bellowed, and as I watched in horror the clouds coalesced in front of the sun, plunging Nocturne City into blue twilight as if a vengeful G.o.d had stretched out his hand.

"Seamus!" I screamed over the shrieking wind. He turned and grinned when he saw me.

"Isn't it marvelous, Detective?" he shouted. "Mathias had a vision of the world and we are alive to witness it! He was a G.o.d!"

"And what are you?" I screamed. "You're just a rider on a dead man's power! You're nothing!"

"How wrong you are." Seamus wasn't shouting any longer, but I could hear him as if his mouth were next to my ear. "I am the heir apparent. I am the G.o.d's new incarnation."

Oh, spare me. If I had a nickel for every time I'd heard some two-bit methhead shrieking the exact same invective, I could go play the tables in Las Vegas until retirement.

"You want to see?" Seamus shouted at me. "Behold!" He spread his arms and stepped up onto the ledge at the edge of the tower, pivoting to face me. Then he spread his arms and flew.

He didn't fly like Superman, more like he was walking on air, floating up and away from me, out toward the bay. His laughter carried on the wind, distorted and childlike.

At that moment I knew two things: if I didn't stop Seamus soon, the city was seriously screwed. Also, the magick of the Skull had driven him positively bat-c.r.a.p insane.

"Why is it always me dealing with this s.h.i.+t?" I asked no one, before running down the stairs and sprinting for my car.

I followed Seamus as he floated on the raging windstorm that was bending trees double, using my portable light and judicious pressure on the horn to maneuver down Magnolia Boulevard, dodging flying tree limbs, stalled cars, and snowflake-style broken gla.s.s from windows that had imploded in the gale.

Mac answered on the first ring of my cell phone, his voice distorted by static. "Wilder! Why do I know you have something to do with this?"

"Never mind that!" I snapped. "There's some serious bad mojo happening, in case you hadn't noticed!"

Seamus arced along Cannery, over the Waterfront district where I'd first met Dmitri, and then went across the salt flats toward the Siren Bay Bridge.

"Get everything we have to the bridge, now!" I told Mac, and threw the phone aside. I gunned the Fairlane up to sixty miles an hour, the fastest anyone anyone had ever gone during morning rush hour in Nocturne City, I was sure, and took the bridge ramp on two tires. had ever gone during morning rush hour in Nocturne City, I was sure, and took the bridge ramp on two tires.

Seamus and I met at the apex, between Nocturne City and the peninsula, above a stretch of angry gray water whipped to rolling breakers by the storm.

I fishtailed the Fairlane and blocked the westbound lane, jerking the emergency brake to stop, and jumping out. Seamus was standing perfectly still, looking toward the city over the waist-high railing that protected the occasional intrepid pedestrian from the two-hundred-foot plunge to the water below.

The bridge was creaking, the steel cables suspending the span almost whipping as the wind whined between them, creating a ghostly wail.

"Do you see it?" Seamus asked me. "A whole city wiped clean, to be created in Mathias's image."

"Don't you mean your image?" I asked, approaching cautiously.

"Of course," he agreed. "And we'll start by improving my view." He stretched out his hand like he was trying to rearrange the cargo s.h.i.+ps lined up along the port docks, then yanked it back in frustration. "No! Why do his teachings elude me? I'll have to consult those f.u.c.king runes again!" He smiled wryly. "And just when you think you have it all figured out, eh, Detective?"

I silently held up the Skull of Mathias, which I'd retrieved in the mad dash to my car. "But we never really do."

"Give me that!" Seamus demanded, clenching his fist.

"Why?" I taunted. "You're all, 'I'm a G.o.d among men' and everything, so I figured you didn't need little old Mathias anymore."

"You have no idea what you're meddling in," Seamus said, quietly this time. I was way more afraid of his calm tones than his shouting.

"Give me the Skull," he said again, and I saw the same blue power manifest around his fist. The first jolt had been before he'd gotten juiced up by the Skull. This one would definitely kill me.

At the base of the bridge I saw flickering blue and red lights as a line of parole cars sped toward us, but there was no time. I had no way to hold Seamus off, since my good looks and charm had obviously failed.

The smell of salt tickled my nostrils, and I looked down at the water. I'd sink it to the bottom of Siren Bay. I'd sink it to the bottom of Siren Bay.

"Give it to me or you die!" Seamus howled. I backed up to the bridge rail, grabbing a cable and stepping up, balancing on the narrow metal bar. I stretched out my free hand and let the Skull dance above the wind-racked water.

"Take it from me," I told Seamus. I didn't shout. I didn't threaten. Standing there with the storm tearing at me, I knew what needed to be done to finish this whole sorry mess.

Thrill seeker. Adrenaline junkie. Everything in flames.

I held the Skull close to me. Then I let go of the cable, and didn't try to catch myself as I fell.

You'd think two hundred feet straight down would give you plenty of time for your life to flash before your eyes, but all I saw was a blue-gray blur and all I heard was the scream of air ripping past my ears as I gathered velocity.

Then I jolted, as if the hand of an avenging angel had decided that no, I wasn't going to get away that easily.

But it was only Seamus, floating, holding me by my free arm, his face twisted beyond any expression a human is capable of. "Give me the Skull," he snarled. "Or I let you drop."

"You really think that worries me now?" I said, breathless at my ability to spit invectives even on the threshold of my own death "I'll take it from you and tear you apart, you piece of tras.h.!.+" Seamus said, reaching for the Skull. I twisted my arm and locked my hand onto his neck, the primitive fight-or-flight instinct clawing for a last moment of life.

Seamus choked, but not because I was attempting to strangle him in midair. I felt the same pain, but far less this time, accompanied by a rush of adrenaline. I felt and smelled and saw so brightly that it almost overtook me, as Seamus's magickal energy rushed from his skin to mine.

"G.o.ds!" he shouted, and we began to waver and dip above the water. "G.o.ds, what are you doing to me?"

The pain was euphoric, a high unlike I'd ever known. We started to fall faster, Seamus screaming in fear now, not rage. The magick flowed, it Pathed and shaped into something that was mine, mine, not Seamus's, and I sucked in a breath and held it as we hit the water and plunged into the freezing bay. I lost my grip on everything except my consciousness, and fell through the water until the energy I'd Pathed from Seamus washed away and I was cold and broken and screaming for air as I clawed toward the surface. not Seamus's, and I sucked in a breath and held it as we hit the water and plunged into the freezing bay. I lost my grip on everything except my consciousness, and fell through the water until the energy I'd Pathed from Seamus washed away and I was cold and broken and screaming for air as I clawed toward the surface.

I breached the surface of the bay gasping and screaming. My right arm was broken, and it felt like both of my ankles, but I was kicking like h.e.l.l to keep afloat, so I must be intact.

I was alive, surfaced, floating in the icy water and fighting the current. The Skull of Mathias was not. And that was all that mattered.

While I treaded water and tried not to pa.s.s out from the cold, I spotted a black-clad lump floating facedown near me. Seamus. I stroked lamely with one arm, managing to bring him close to me and flip his body over into a lifesaving hold.

It was over now. Seamus was just another pathetic power-hungry witch who had broken himself on his grand ideas.

The zip of a siren and a motor whirring caught my ears, and I kicked around to see a police boat coming up fast. They got out their life vests and hooks and pulled us both into the boat, where I collapsed s.h.i.+vering on the deck. Someone wrapped blankets around me, and one of the crewmen shouted something into his radio. "Hypothermia ... one DOA ... have EMS meet us at the dock..."

I sighed, letting myself relax for the first time in days. The Skull was gone for good, and its temptation for people like Seamus with it.

The EMTs took custody of me as soon as the boat pulled into their slip at the port authority. I was s.h.i.+vering uncontrollably by then, from shock as much as from the water. That jangly feeling you get when you know, for a fact, that you shouldn't have survived and yet you're there, seeing the same world through the same tired eyes.

McAllister shoved his way through the knot of officers on the docks and came to his knees in front of me, taking my face between his hands. "You have got to stop doing this to me," he declared. "G.o.ds. Thank Them that you're all right."

"Of c-c-course I am," I chattered. "I'm ... I'm always okay. Never expected anything less."

Mac looked over at the sodden body on the end of the dock. An EMT was giving him CPR, but even from here it looked perfunctory. "Hex me, is that Seamus O'Halloran?"

"Was," I said with a slow smile. "Was, Mac."

"Okay," he said, spreading his hands. "I'm sure I'm going to hear all about this, like it or not, but I don't want to right now." His bony face crinkled, and I think the idea of hugging me crossed his mind. "Just glad you're alive, Wilder. You'd be a b.i.t.c.h to replace at the salary we pay you."

"Mac..." I started.

A scream came from the end of the dock, and I saw the EMT working on Seamus lurch backward, a line of red running from his throat. Seamus came upright, a curved silver knife in his hands-Victor's knife, the one he'd showed me the first time we'd met.

"You," Seamus hissed, staggering upright. "I see you!" He lunged for me, and I saw it all-the knife planting itself in my throat, me bleeding out on the scarred wood of the port authority dock, Mac and the EMTs helpless to stop Seamus as he escaped.

This time, though, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed the first thing from the EMT's bag that my fingers closed around, which turned out to be a pair of surgical scissors, and jammed them into Seamus's thigh as he dove for me. He stumbled backward, and I heard a thunderclap from over my head. Three red stars blossomed on Seamus's chest, and he went backward off the pier, splas.h.i.+ng into the water Mac lowered his Glock. "One of these days, Luna, you're going to have to tell me where you learned those people skills of yours."

EPILOGUE.

I ended up back in Sharps.h.i.+n Memorial, where I'd been sent after my run-in with Alistair Duncan. This time it was only hypothermia and a fractured fibula, not ma.s.sive internal trauma, so I stayed overnight and got sent home with a neon-pink cast. I'm sure my specialist, Dr. Northgate, found that hilarious.

As I was signing myself out, and letting the nurses draw on my cast, someone appeared at my elbow. "Luna."

His scent was unmistakable, one that haunted my memories. I turned around and poked Joshua in the chest. "Get away from me."

"Relax!" He held up his hands. "You're so G.o.ds-d.a.m.ned twitchy. Maybe you should see a shrink."

"Maybe you should get out of my face before I electrocute your groin again, you slimy little s.h.i.+t," I growled with more desire to hurt someone than I'd ever felt.

Joshua had the nerve to smirk. "You certainly proved yourself worthy of members.h.i.+p in the Serpent Eye. Take it, Luna. You don't want to be Insoli anymore, trust me. Not in this day and age."

"Stop telling me what I want," I snapped. I turned to the nurse who had checked me out. "I'm going outside to get a cab. If this jacka.s.s follows me, call security."

He did follow me, and when I didn't turn around, he yanked on the arm that wasn't broken. I exploded. "Don't f.u.c.king touch me!"

"Will you stop making a scene?" He sighed. "For everything Hexed and holy, Luna. I'm offering you your only shot at a normal life, one where you don't constantly have to look over your shoulder." He stared me down, and I felt the weight of the dominate. "Take it."

"Would I be yours?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

"Of course." He smiled. "As a Serpent Eye, and Nocturne's pack leader, everything I touch belongs to me."

"Then I believe," I said with a quiet smile, "that you can go Hex yourself."

"I could make you," Joshua said, the dominate falling over me.

I snarled at him. "You could try."

He backed away.

Feeling more free than I had in fifteen years, I turned my back on Joshua and stuck out my arm to hail a cab. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. "We're not finished, b.i.t.c.h! You don't get to walk away from me again!"

Someone on a motorcycle cut through traffic and came to a stop in the taxi line in front of me, eliciting honks and threats of bodily harm from the hack drivers waiting for fares. Dmitri looked up at me through aviator sungla.s.ses. "Who's this a.s.shole?"