Dying Is My Business (39 page)

A moment later, something big fell out of the sky and landed amid the revenants with a heavy
thud
. It was followed by another, and another. Gargoyles, half a dozen of them, dropping out of the sky like paratroopers from a plane. They laid into the revenants with their sharp claws, one after another, shredding them to pieces. It would have been a massacre if the victims weren’t already dead.

Two more gargoyles landed directly in front of me. I recognized one of them from the warehouse—Yellow Eye, with its withered, battle-scarred eye. The second had an elongated, almost horselike face, and together the two of them made short work of the revenants holding me. The moment I was free I started running, but Yellow Eye and Long Face hadn’t freed me out of the kindness of their hearts. They flew after me, scooped me up in their claws, and carried me into the sky. I struggled to get free, but they were strong, even stronger than the revenants. Within seconds we were up so high that it became safer
not
to struggle. Below, more revenants streamed out of their graves and crypts like a tidal wave, a sea of glowing red eyes that lit the darkness crimson. The last thing I saw before the cemetery dropped out of view was the revenants surrounding the Black Knight, and the Black Knight cutting them down on every side.

Yellow Eye and Long Face carried me across the East River, then the northern tip of Manhattan, and the Hudson River. Finally, as we passed over the white steel hulk of the George Washington Bridge with its stream of headlights far below, I saw where we were headed—the enormous, stony cliffs of the Palisades.

The other gargoyles from the cemetery soared past us, followed by a flock of crows. They all flew into a gaping black cave mouth in the cliffside. I was carried inside after them.

Thirty-two

There was a cage waiting for me just inside the cave mouth, a construct of thick wooden poles lashed together with strips of dried, treated animal hide. Yellow Eye and Long Face threw me into it before my feet even hit the ground. I landed on my side instead of my legs, and pain flared through my ribs. Yellow Eye fixed me with his withered half-gaze and latched the cage door shut, securing it with a heavy chain and lock. I got to my feet. The Black Knight had gone through a lot of trouble to find me, blown up the gas station and taken on a cemetery full of Reve Azrael’s revenants, all to bring me back here. Why? What did I matter to him?

Around me, an enormous cavern stretched deep into the Palisades cliff, dimly lit by veins of glowing green lichen that grew upon the stone. Thick, knobby stalagmites rose from the floor like obelisks. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like gigantic teeth. In a handful of places the two met to form natural columns. Shapes crawled along the walls and clung to the stalactites overhead. Gargoyles, hundreds of them, all focused on me. The air stank of their breath as they hissed and chittered excitedly.

I’d been pulled from Reve Azrael’s clutches only to be brought right to the heart of Gargoyle Central. Out of the frying pan and into the nuclear fucking explosion.

Yellow Eye and Long Face lifted my cage effortlessly between them, and carried it deeper into the cavern. I was jostled against the bars for a few moments, unable to tell exactly where we were going. Then I was put down again.

In front of the Black Knight.

He sat upon a tall throne fashioned from hundreds of skulls, both human and gargoyle, bonded together with some kind of crude cement. Standing beside him was a wizened, stoop-backed old gargoyle, its ancient, leathery hide stretched tight over its bony frame. The gargoyle leaned its weight on the gnarled wooden walking stick it clutched in one claw. A single long, twisted fang drooped from its mouth. Its deep-set black eyes watched me inscrutably, sphinx like. I couldn’t tell if it regarded me as a prisoner or as dinner.

The Black Knight rose from his throne and approached the cage. The old gargoyle’s walking stick tapped the floor as it hobbled forward. The Black Knight reached one gauntlet through the bars, grabbed my wrist, and pulled my arm toward him.

“What are you—?” I started to say, but I was cut off by the sudden, freezing darkness that filled me up inside. He was sucking the life force out of my body. He’d tried to kill me this way once before. It seemed he was determined to try again.

I gritted my teeth and tried to pull my arm back, but his grip was too strong and I was already too weak. I was freezing from the inside out, faltering, and then, just like before, the bluish-white light burst out of my arm. It was too bright for the gargoyles. They shielded their eyes with their wings and hissed angrily. It crackled like lightning across the Black Knight’s armor. He released me, stepping back from the cage quickly, and the light dissipated. The gargoyles folded their wings back and chittered among themselves, confused and alarmed. The only gargoyle that didn’t seem fazed was the old one. It leaned on its walking stick and narrowed its black eyes thoughtfully.

I doubled over against the bars, catching my breath as the freezing darkness ebbed from my body. I glared at the Black Knight. “Don’t blame me, you knew what would happen.”

The Black Knight’s only reply was to motion for the gargoyles to lift the cage once more and follow him. I was carried through tunnels that led deeper into the cavern. There was less of the glowing lichen in these depths, and I couldn’t see much through the cage’s bars except the wings of the gargoyles carrying me and the long, forked stag horns of the Black Knight’s helmet. We passed chambers hewn into the stone walls, and passages that branched off in other directions. We crossed what appeared to be a natural stone bridge, and though I couldn’t see what it spanned or how far down the drop was, I could smell what was down there. It was like the stench of a Dumpster behind a butcher shop, the stink of rotting meat.

Finally, the Black Knight entered a chamber off the side of the tunnel. The gargoyles carried me in after him and set the cage down against one wall. The room was hot and dry, in stark contrast to the cool dampness of the rest of the cavern. A pungent, sulfurous smell clung to the walls. Across from me, on the far side of the chamber, was a long table cluttered with what looked like laboratory equipment, if the lab happened to be from the Dark Ages. There were ceramic vessels connected by looping glass tubes, a brass balance scale, a collection of mortars and pestles of various sizes, and numerous earthen pots and crucibles nestled in a sand-filled box. Suspended from hooks above the table were glass globes filled with liquids and powders of all different colors. Beside the table sat a stone furnace, a fire roaring in its belly and a small, controlled flame gouting from a hole in its top.

The Black Knight waved the gargoyles away. They filed out, shutting a thick steel door behind them and leaving us alone in the chamber.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

The Black Knight didn’t answer. He removed one of the glass globes from its hook, and poured out a fine yellow powder into one of the crucibles. Then he moved the crucible onto the furnace, above the spurting flame. While his back was to me, I quickly inspected the cage door, looking for a weakness in the latch or hinges. I rattled it, put my shoulder into it, but it was no good, the thing was too solid. It was the same with the joints where the bars were lashed to the frame. I wasn’t going anywhere.

Even with all the noise I made trying to bash through the cage door, the Black Knight didn’t turn around. Instead, he watched intently as the powder in the crucible began to smoke.

“So you
are
an alchemist,” I said. “The one from the history books, the one who vanished, just like Ingrid thought. Only you didn’t disappear for long, did you? You came back to Fort Verhulst to kill everyone you knew. Why? Was it because they knew something about you? It must have been something big, something dangerous. That’s what Ingrid thought. She thought they’d discovered your weakness, a way to kill you. Of course you couldn’t allow that, could you?”

The Black Knight kept his back to me, showing no sign that he heard me or cared what I had to say.

“The name Ingrid doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?” I said. “Let me refresh your memory. Older woman with a penchant for white gloves and fire magic. Forty years ago, you murdered the man she loved, and if she were here she’d kill you for it herself.”

The Black Knight took the crucible off the flame and carried it to the cage. I wished I could see more through the visor of his helmet than just an empty darkness, if only to know if I’d gotten through to him on some level, but he was as unreadable as a blank wall. He put the steaming crucible on the floor in front of the cage, then grabbed my arm again and pulled it toward him.

“Really, this again? You’re like a dumb kid who keeps touching a hot stove.”

This time, the Black Knight pried open my hand. I didn’t notice the long, thin dagger until he was already bringing it toward my palm. I sucked in my breath as he drew the blade painfully across my palm, leaving a red line of blood along the skin.

He picked up the crucible and squeezed my fist over it until the blood dripped onto the hot, yellow powder. As soon as the blood touched it, the powder began to sizzle and smoke. Then he let me go and brought the crucible back to the furnace.

I cradled my bleeding hand to my chest. “What did you do that for?”

The Black Knight put the crucible over the flame again and watched it steam.

“Damn it, what do you want from me?”

It was pointless. The Black Knight only continued to ignore me, focusing his attention on his work. My palm was throbbing where he’d cut it, but the bleeding slowed as the blood began to clot. Frustrated, I sank down against the cage bars and watched the Black Knight work. What was he doing? What did he want with my
blood
?

He lifted a glass globe filled with an ice-blue liquid off its hook and poured a few drops into the steaming crucible. It flared like flashpaper, then sputtered and died. The Black Knight balled his gauntlets into angry fists. With a sweep of his arm he knocked the crucible off the furnace and onto floor. The experiment must have failed. The Black Knight spun quickly, his tattered black cape billowing out behind him. He stormed out the steel door, slamming it closed again behind him. I heard a heavy clank as the door’s lock slid into place.

It was tempting to think the experiment’s failure was a good thing, but I knew that was shortsighted. Given my situation, the only thing more dangerous than the Black Knight was an angry Black Knight, with
me
as the cause of his frustration. What would he do when he came back? Drain the rest of my blood? Dissect me like a frog?

I stood up and tried to get the cage door open again. I kicked it, slammed my shoulder into it, but the damn thing still didn’t budge. Finally, I hit the door at the wrong angle and a jagged bolt of pain shot through my arm. Wincing, I wiggled my fingers and bent my elbow until I was satisfied I hadn’t broken anything. Then I sighed and slumped to the floor again. I had to face facts, there was no way out. I was at the Black Knight’s mercy, and something told me the cut on my palm wasn’t the worst of what he had in store.

I hoped the others had found what they were looking for. I pictured Bethany bent over a book, scouring it for clues. The image put a pang of regret in my chest. It was likely the Black Knight would keep me here as his prisoner-slash-guinea pig for … well, forever, I supposed, considering neither one of us was exactly mortal. I’d never see Bethany again. At least I’d managed to keep Reve Azrael and the Black Knight distracted so the others would be safe, even if only for a while. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t make up for everything I’d done, but maybe it was some small bit of redemption. Or maybe there was no redemption for someone like me. There was a string of bodies in my wake, and maybe this was what I deserved, my punishment, to be dissected and studied by the Black Knight until there wasn’t enough of me left to come back from the dead. And then the world could breathe a sigh of relief, finally wash its hands of me, and say good riddance.

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the guttering furnace fire through the bars of the cage and feeling sorry for myself. Hours, maybe. The blood on my palm had dried when I heard the chamber door unlock. I stood, my heart in my throat as I watched it swing open, but it wasn’t the Black Knight. It was the wizened old gargoyle I’d seen standing beside him in the throne room. The gargoyle limped into the room, its walking stick tapping the floor quietly. The long, saliva-wet snaggletooth that hung from its mouth glistened in the firelight.

I stepped back from the cage door, but it wasn’t like there was any place I could run if Snaggletooth decided to turn me into a meal. “What do you want?”

Surprisingly, the gargoyle answered in English. “Be fearless. I bring you liberation.” I frowned. Not only did the words not make sense, they sounded wrong coming from a mouth that wasn’t meant to speak them. It was like listening to a dog trying to talk. The gargoyle shook its head and tried again. “Please forgive. Your language is difficult and I have not spoken it in many years. Do not be afraid. I have come to free you.” Snaggletooth unlocked the cage and held the door open for me.

I stepped out of the cage hesitantly. I didn’t know if I could trust a gargoyle, but I wasn’t going to let an open door go to waste. “Why would you help me?”

“For the good of my kind,” Snaggletooth replied, leading me toward the chamber door. “We are an ancient race, old before yours was even born. Yet there are so few of us left who remember the old days, before the usurper came.” Snaggletooth opened the door carefully, and peered into the tunnel outside. The gargoyle stepped out and motioned for me to follow.

I still didn’t know if trusting Snaggletooth was a safe thing to do, but I didn’t see much choice. It was either that or wait for the Black Knight to return for a new game of Operation. I followed the old gargoyle into the tunnel, making sure to tread lightly. The tunnel was empty, but I doubted it would stay that way for long. The whole cavern was crawling with gargoyles, and the Black Knight could already be on his way back. As we walked, I whispered, “Who’s the usurper? Are you talking about the Black Knight?”