Invincible (37 page)

“No, Claude. I am here. This is me,” she said, creaking closer.
“You have pearls to store your memories, I have
seeds
.” She stroked her foxtail ruff. “I've survived the Council's
petty Edicts, your pet assassins and my ill-promised Fate. I have
cheated death
, old pollywog, and no one knows better
how rare that can be. Look around you—do you think that shall happen with any
one of you?” She tilted her head coyly. “We are not ones born to submit, you and
I—we know better—we
are
better. We make our own
rules.” She became strangely earnest, her madness sounding more like a plea. “We
defied them once before—do you remember, my love? And it almost destroyed us. It
could be different this time.”

“No,” he sighed, apologetic, sincere. “There is no ‘we,'
because you are not her,” he whispered. “For good or ill, you are not her.”

She shrugged a shapely shoulder, her polished skin flecked with
blood. “So be it.”

Joy swallowed. “Now.”

Ink sank his blade into the ground, igniting a spark that raced
along the curve of a ward that flared into life, surrounding them all. It
crackled with waves of incandescent light.

Aniseed frowned. “What is this?”

“You once asked me for my
signatura
,” Ink said crisply. “Here it is.”

The ouroboros flamed, a dragon swallowing its tail, its scales,
a thousand tongues of lapping yellow-gold, encircled all of them in its infinite
waves; its eye was a single, yellow crystal, a golden clasp that once held a
precious double strand of pearls. The energy of the ward was turning the
gemstone sooty black. It cracked with a sudden
pop
.

Aniseed tipped her chin back and laughed. It seemed unfair that
Kurt's killing stroke had left no scar on her graftling's throat. “Poor dumb
creature,” she said. “You are defective, defunct. You have no more magic than
you have a soul. Do you think you've trapped me inside this ward with you? You
think that will save anyone? I'll simply tear you all to ribbons,” she said,
smiling. “I've done it before.”

Briarhook's quills quivered in anticipated pleasure. His claws
scratched the soil.

“On the contrary,” Graus Claude said. “The ward is less to keep
you in, than to keep them out.”

Everyone craned their heads as the winds changed. The barometer
dropped. Ionic static licked the air. Massive clouds gathered in layers
overhead. The field suddenly reeked of pine and brimstone and rain. The ground
trembled like distant thunder, a shudder under their feet. Joy felt every hair
on her body stand on end. Monica's mouth dropped open.

“Oh no, sir!”

A shadow the size of a 747 snaked across the field. Trees bent
in the sudden gale, spraying leaves and seeds and fairy Folk. The Forest Folk
stepped lithely out of branches or through broken bark. The ground spat out
brownies, dwarves and rocks that formed shapes, pushing their way blindly
forward. Pixies and sprites, nagas and djinn, banshees, basilisks, gargoyles and
gryphons flew out of the sky by the dozens, soaring low on outstretched wings,
curls of smoke and rolls of colorful carpet. Giants squatted near dryads, elves
stood by lizard kings, ghostly wraiths slipped through phookas and bunyips, and
nixies dismounted from dripping hippocamps while geysers of fire erupted,
spewing handsome, long-limbed warriors with glowing pet salamanders perched on
their backs.

Then the mighty dragon, Bùxiŭ de
Zhēnzhū, landed with all the Council members gathered along his
length. His smoky mustaches undulated along his thick mane, his teeth dripped
saliva down his thin chin beard.

Councilex Maia held up her right hand; the tip of her
forefinger was sooty black.

“Ye summoned me, Councilex Claude?” she asked.

“Indeed,” the Bailiwick said. The Cabana Boys kept the
segulah
trained in their sights. “I have summoned the
Council and the members of the Twixt here to bear witness to the charges brought
against the graftling, Aniseed, who has—with full intent and
foreknowledge—adopted her parental memories and mission to actively forestall
the Imminent Return by reinstating herself on the Council through coercion,
usurping the monarchy by collusion, and pursuing the annihilation of four-fifths
of the human population, in direct violation of the Accords, to further her
private agenda of revenge. I therefore charge the graftling, Aniseed, a traitor
and self-proclaimed autocrat bent on genocide, regicide and the premeditated
attempted murder of the changeling, Joy Malone, and myself, as the Bailiwick of
the Twixt—” If any of the Council were surprised by Graus Claude's claims, none
showed it. Joy held her breath, waiting for the frog's coup de grâce. “—As
witnessed by all those present as well as the King and Queen of the Twixt.”

There was a tumult of murmurs, screams and shrieks, clicks,
grunts and squawks, but none of the horror matched the expression on Aniseed's
face.

“You
lie
!” she spat, reeling, off
balance and afraid. “They are not here! They haven't Returned!”

Folk loyalty was absolute—betrayal was impossible, which was
why the original Aniseed had cast a spell to make everyone—including
herself—forget the King and Queen. One could not be loyal to that which no one
could remember. Her crime, if known by them, would be unforgivable.

“They abandoned us! We can rule ourselves!” She appealed to
those beyond the ward. “We will take back this world and claim our rightful
place as gods!”

Graus Claude shook his head sadly, jowls swinging. “Alas, that
is precisely the sort of myopic inanity I referenced when I said that you are a
mere shadow of your predecessor,” he said. “Aniseed would never have accused
anyone, let alone me, of such an absurdity, and would have paid careful
attention to my phrasing in order to glean my true intent.” He leaned forward,
head bobbing between the halberd and the rifle butt. “I did not say that they
were here—I said that they were watching you.”

Joy hooked her thumb under the gold chain and lifted the Third
Eye pendant.

Recoiling, Aniseed screamed.

She lunged for Joy through the sudden rain of bullets. There
was a mad scramble as Joy and Monica backpedaled to the farthest side of the
circle as the rest of them closed in. Ink leaped forward, straight razor
flashing, as Inq sheared her blurred hand, gouging a great buzzing gash in the
segulah
's side. Sludge gushed from the wound,
but it only made the dryad seethe, eyes rolling, as she continued to charge.

Sol Leander stood transfixed, caught between his leader and his
human charge. Avery spun, a whirl of feather and blades, slicing through her
upper arm, bisecting Briarhook's mark. The wild rose brand wept amber blood. The
front line, Antony and Raina, concentrated their fire on Aniseed's face, a
rictus of bloodlust and fury. Her ear snapped off. A bullet pierced her cheek.
Shrieking, her hand shot forward, spearing Raina through her torso and slamming
her bodily into Antony and Tuan. Joy screamed, grabbing Monica, and wrenched
them back from the line of shimmering fire. The ward pulsed and repulsed, a
warning shiver not to cross. Joy and her best friend huddled together, shielding
their eyes from the horror of death.

Kurt unsheathed his blades, glaring up at the dryad who was
tearing weapons from arms and arms from sockets amidst screams. Avery danced
aside, snapping his left wing like a matador's cape. Ink dived into her blind
side, shearing a sharp line, cracking ribs. Her madness turned to laughter and
then tears as Aniseed twisted, corkscrew-tight within the ward.

Joy scootched back. The ouroboros was shrinking, swallowing its
tail, as per the plan.

“Out!” shouted Inq, tapping her sternum.

An answering pulse flashed on the
lehman
's chests. Antony grabbed fistfuls of Raina's and Tuan's
shirts, yanking them through the ward. It let them pass. Ilhami gave a rebel
yell, covering their escape, scooping up Tuan's weapon and shooting both barrels
at everything above head height. Nikolai bodily tackled him as Aniseed hissed,
spinning, splashing the contents of whatever vial she'd had hidden under her
stole. Her fringe of fox fur smoked black and the earth around them sizzled.
Both Nik and Ilhami writhed like wounded animals, their skin bubbling and
bursting, their limbs contorting into broken shapes.

“Out!” Inq shouted.

Another flash. Both men struggled to obey their mistress,
rolling and crawling desperately, clawing their fingers in the dirt. Nikolai
screamed as he dragged his belly through the burning ward, agonizingly slow.
Ilhami, half-blinded, face melted, flailed in the grass. Joy moved to help him.
His hand shot out, warning her off.

“No! Joy! Get back!”

Monica yanked her behind Sol Leander.

Flopping, heaving, Ilhami panted, straining forward, face
pressed into the green, as Aniseed's giant fist hit his skull with a sickening
crack.

“NO!” Joy screamed. Monica's fingernails dug into her arms,
holding her back.

“Joy!
Don't!
”

Inq howled. A burst of atomized sap exploded from Aniseed's
chest. Kurt landed a solid kick followed by a punch of steel. Avery vanished in
a sweep of feathers, appearing moments later beneath the witch's chin, slicing
sideways as Inq buried her arm into Aniseed's gut. The dryad screamed, choking,
and clawed at her middle, catching nothing but air. Another ripple, Inq appeared
and Ilhami was thrown outside the ward.

“I'm done playing,” Inq said. “Just watch me—”

“Down!”

Graus Claude jumped, extending his impossibly long legs,
crossing two of his weapons before him, simultaneously throwing the halberd and
squeezing the rifle's trigger, catching the recoil against his chest. Aniseed
staggered. Her wrist snapped. Sharpened claws flew like arrows, catching the
armored amphibian in the stomach, chest, arm and throat. He hit the ground
behind them like a wet sack.

“No!” Joy dropped to her knees and crawled beside him. “No no
no no—!” Monica crouched next to her, the letter opener quivering in her fist.
Inq spun around quickly, her buzzing hands swift as scythes. A gash exploded
across Aniseed's face, dragging from clavicle to breast.

“Graus Claude!” Joy said desperately, pressing her hands
against one of the bubbling wounds. “Bailiwick!” The four-inch wooden talons
were buried deep. Blood gushed absolutely everywhere and his flesh was spongy
and slack. Monica pressed hard around the stake in the Bailiwick's belly. He
sputtered, a strangled sound. Joy's hands slipped off the bloody armor as she
fumbled with the ties. If she removed Aniseed's thorns, there was no doubt he'd
die before she cut the wounds closed, but if she didn't do something, he'd
certainly die in her hands.

Unlike Aniseed, who refused to ever die.

This can't be happening! I can stop it! I
can make it untrue!

Graus Claude wheezed thinly, his sharp eyes beginning to
fade.

“They will come,” he panted through bloody lips. “They will
come.”

Joy's hands flailed, her brain screaming,
Graus Claude! No! Stef!

There was another bloodcurdling scream as Aniseed lunged, but
Sol Leander stepped between them with a burst of negative light, erecting a ward
like the corona of an eclipse in reverse.

“Stay down!” he commanded.

Joy screamed, “Can't you stop her?”

Sol Leander pushed back grimly on the force of his spell. “I
can hold her at bay for a short while,” he said, glancing down at the skewered
body. “But I do not have the Bailiwick's power.”

Joy squinted, shielding her eyes. The Bailiwick
was
powerful, both as Graus Claude and as the door
between worlds. Joy needed that power to save him, and her brother and everyone
else, right now! Her Sight caught the faintest blue light—a tiny
signatura
of a flowering lotus in the heart of the ox
bone blade.

Joy grabbed Monica's hand and yanked her closer. “We have to
get him up!” she shouted. “We have to get him standing!”

“Are you crazy?” Monica shouted, pressing bloody hands down.
“That'll kill him!”

“No!” Joy said. “It's the only way to save him!”

Another assault battered the black hole shield. There was the
shing
and clatter and roar of battle just beyond
Sol Leander's spell.

“Use the knife! This knife! Command him! Here!” Joy shook her
friend's hand. “Order him to stand up! You can make him! Do it! Try!”

“What do you mean I can
make
him?”
Monica asked.

Joy hissed a low whisper; afraid of being overheard, afraid it
was already too late. “You can
control
him. With
this. It's got his blood on it! It's magic! Do it! Tell him! Command it!
Now!”

“
That's
what you did with this
thing? You made him into a puppet? And you
knew
?”
Joy's best friend looked very much like she wanted to slap her and storm off.
“Do you have any idea how
WRONG
that is?”

“Yes, I do,” Joy said. “Just use it!”

“No!” Monica shouted. “No, I won't, Joy. I
can't
!” She stared down at the dying frog. “It's not
right
!”

This wasn't the time for an ethical debate—Graus Claude was
dying by degrees.

“Monica—!”

Her friend shook her head. “Is that what's been going on—the
house? The pearls? The surveillance? For this?”