The Eternal Tomb (13 page)

Oliver listened to his footsteps retreating, then turned to Emalie. “What—”

“Not here.” She pulled his arm and led him back across the catwalks, into an arboretum that bordered the locks. They found a secluded spot among the tall trees and twisting grass lawns, then sat and returned to the tree house.

“How are we going to get into the Anointment?” Oliver asked immediately.

“You're going to the Anointment?” Dean asked. “Whoa, what did I miss?”

“Getting you in is easy,” said Emalie. “You just go home and pretend you've had a change of heart. It's getting me in that's the tricky part, but I know a way.”

“Emalie, we can't just sneak you in,” said Oliver worriedly. “There'll be dead detectors, the Reader, Pyreths. Your disappearing trick, even Jenette's cloaking, it won't be enough.”

Emalie smiled. “That's why we have to walk right through the front door.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“I'll be your date, silly!” said Emalie, again with that unnerving confidence. “Just like Lythia suggested.”

“What?” Oliver stammered. “Did you hear what I just said—”

“Yeah,” said Emalie, “I did. You can't get me in
alive.
But there are other ways.”

“Emalie…” Dean groaned.

Emalie gazed seriously at Oliver. “I can be your vampire date.”

“What?” Oliver exclaimed. “No! What are you talking about? You want me to
sire
you?”

Emalie rolled her eyes. “Not
really
. Yuck. I mean make it
look
like you did.”

“But I—even if what you were saying wasn't crazy—I don't have a demon. I can't sire. No one would believe it.”

“So we find a vampire who would. Who would
say
that he did.”

“And then what?” asked Dean skeptically.

“Then we go to the Ball together and destroy the Artifact.” Oliver stared hard at Emalie, feeling a deep worry at the excitement on her face. She met his gaze. “I know what you're thinking, and if you say ‘no,' I'm just going to do it anyway.”

Oliver realized that she would. And he could think of no other way to stop the Anointment. “Okay,” he said warily. “Maybe I know a vampire who would help us. But how are we going to make you look sired?”

“If I tell you any more now, you'll just worry too much.”

“I think we're both worrying too much already,” offered Dean.

“Oliver, you know we have to do this.”

Oliver didn't want to agree, but… Yes, they did. Stop the Anointment, and then go find his parents and undo the prophecy. If this was the only way, then…

“Trust me,” said Emalie.

“Okay.”

“Oliver,” said Phlox, and Oliver thought he saw surprise in her eyes when he trudged into the kitchen just before dawn. “How was your night?”

“Fine,” he said.

“What have you been up to?”

“Nothing, really.”
I almost left you forever,
he thought. He went to the fridge and grabbed a Coke.

“Good morning, Son.” Sebastian emerged from the living room. Tyrus and Leah were behind him. Sebastian shared a quick, concerned glance with Phlox before saying: “Nice to see you home.”

“Where else would I go?” Oliver asked innocently.

“Hello, Oliver,” said Tyrus.

“Hey,” said Oliver casually, taking a gummified tapeworm from the jar on the counter.

“So,” Phlox asked, “were you at school all night, tonight?”

Oliver looked from his parents to Tyrus and Leah. It had become so easy to see through the silence, after all these months of going around in circles. Tyrus and Leah were obviously here because Oliver had been missing. And if Oliver hadn't come home by dawn, it would have been time to tell Phlox and Sebastian about Alexy. Maybe, at this point, that was even what Half-Light was hoping for.

And yet, instead, here was Oliver, home on time, saying honestly, “No, I actually left early.” He tried to get his tone just right. “I was scared about the Anointment and I—I just wanted to be alone and think it through. It's such a big responsibility, and sometimes I don't want it.…”

“That's understandable,” said Sebastian. He gave Tyrus and Leah a reassuring glance. “There's nothing wrong with a little doubt.”

“But I realized that it's gonna be okay,” Oliver continued. “It's like you've all been saying, I was made for this, and any other vampire would be lucky to be in my position.” Then he thought to add the icing on the cake. “Oh, and I got a date.”

Phlox's eyes widened. “You did? Who is it?”

Oliver smiled. “It's a surprise. I gotta get some sleep. See you in the evening,” he said with a pleasant smile, and headed for bed, leaving the adults in stunned silence behind him.

Chapter 11

The Darkling Ball

READY?

“No,” said Oliver aloud. He wasn't ready for this, at all. He sat on a pillow, floating above the floor of the Merchynt Sylvix's shop, deep in the Yomi. Across from him, Emalie sat on a pillow as well. She wore a crimson velvet dress that began just below her shoulders. It was fitted through her waist, and flared into a wide skirt. Her hair had made a completely unbraided appearance, and was tied back in a complicated pile behind her head. This accentuated the fine lines from her ears to her chin, down her long neck. Her scarab necklace hung like a jewel at the center of a crown made by her delicate collarbones.

The sight of her caused Oliver to tug nervously at the vest of his black tuxedo, to adjust the hand-knotted bow tie that his dad had so carefully done, to reconsider the matching set of hawk's eye shirt buttons and talon cuff links, handed down from Sebastian's father. Were they too much? Too old? Too creepy?

“Oliver,” Emalie huffed. “Stop making your no-face and trust me.”

“I do,” said Oliver, but she looked so… alive. Oliver remembered what she'd said on her birthday. There were proms ahead for her, a wedding, all so soon by vampire time. And it wasn't just that Oliver wouldn't be there for those events. What if this incredibly risky plan didn't work?

Then the world will end, anyway
, Emalie thought in his head.
And eww! I can't believe you're thinking of me getting married!

“I just—” he stammered, “—What about…” Oliver glanced behind Emalie, to where Sylvix stood, arms folded, his face shrouded in a hood.

“Don't fret, Mr. Nocturne,” he said in a deep, vibrating voice. “Once the price has been paid, my services are incorruptible. And Ms. Watkins's credit is in good standing.”

“Okay, there's that again,” said Oliver doubtfully.
What are you paying them?

Don't worry about it
.

Oliver turned to Sylvix, well aware that he could hear their thoughts. “Tell me what she paid you.”

“Of course. It is public record, after all. Ms. Watkins paid in days of happiness.”

“What?” Oliver exclaimed. He glared at Emalie. “No, take it back.”

“Sorry, no refunds,” said Sylvix mildly.

“Relax, it was only twelve days.” Emalie flashed her confident smile, but it faded faster than usual.

Oliver couldn't believe this. Giving away days of happiness would leave a vacuum of sorrow in their place. Didn't Emalie understand how dangerous those days of pure unhappiness would be? “Did you at least get to pick which days?” he asked worriedly.

“Oliver, stop. And no. Self-selected days weren't as valuable.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. Of course they weren't! Nothing was as valuable in the demon world as stolen joy, especially because of the danger it posed to the victim. What if Sylvix took a happy day when Emalie needed one most?

It's done. Just take my hands and forget about it
.

“Fine.” Oliver grasped her hands. They were cold and clammy.

“Now keep me still.” Emalie turned to Sylvix. “Ready.”

Just then the lights went out. There was a moment of darkness, and then Sylvix's shop was lit in red. As they regularly did in the Yomi, directions and gravity had shifted. Sideways was now upside down. Emalie and Oliver were unaffected, sitting on their floating pillows. The Yomi's air horn sounded, and huge gears began to grind. The ladders and shops readjusted, shelves realigning around them.

Sylvix bustled among his wares. When he returned, he held a thin brass lancet with a razor-sharp tip. It was attached to a rubber hose, which snaked to Sylvix's other hand, where he held a regular white plastic milk jug from the human world.

Oliver frowned. “You're going to put it in that?”

Sylvix's eyes glowed a touch brighter. “Recycling is important,” he said seriously. “And it's the perfect size. I used to use Narakan obsidian jars, but they shattered too easily. Now, Ms. Watkins, you will feel a slight sting…”

Sylvix plunged the lancet into Emalie's neck, just above her shoulder.

Emalie's eyes bulged, her mouth scrunching as she tried to keep from crying out. Her fingers dug into Oliver's hands, her body trembling.

“Hang on, Emalie,” Oliver said as supportively as he could. Her gaze locked with his. Meanwhile, Oliver was overcome by a woozy feeling as the tangy scent of her blood washed over him.

There was a splattering sound, as the milk jug began to fill, pump by pump.

“Small coincidence, don't you think, Mr. Nocturne,” Sylvix said matter-of-factly, “that humans prefer the gallon as the optimum amount of liquid to carry around, when it's nearly exactly how much blood is in each of their bodies. I find subtleties like that amusing.”

“Right,” muttered Oliver. He tried to ignore the scent of Emalie's blood, the sound of it leaping free from her carotid artery. A single drop of it ran slowly along the lancet's shaft.

“Monterey,” Emalie said absently, her voice little more than a whisper. Her gaze was still locked on Oliver, but had become distant. A tear gathered beneath her right eye.

“What?” Oliver asked.

“Mom and Dad took me to the beach.… I wished I had a camera for the cliffs.… Then they gave me the old one for Christmas.… No, don't go…” Her head slumped to her chest.

The sucking sound quieted, the flow slowing to a drip in the milk jug.

“Just about empty,” said Sylvix, sounding satisfied.

Oliver watched, horrified, as Emalie's skin paled to a bluish gray. A light began to form just above her head. A beautiful white, sparking with blue edges … lifting away from her.

Oliver looked down at Emalie's cold, gray hands, and read the words he'd scribbled on the back of his hand for just this moment:

“Revelethh…lucenthh…persechhh…”

Nathan appeared beside Oliver.
Hey
, he said, then reached out and took Emalie's soul by its hand as it rose from her body, looking around blankly.
You can stay with me
, he said to it.

“You'll take it to the Shoals,” said Oliver.

Yes. She'll be safe, I promise
.

Okay. See you when we're done.
Oliver watched worriedly as the two souls winked away.

He turned to find Emalie staring vacantly at him. “Hey,” she said flatly.

“Hi.” Oliver turned to Sylvix. “It worked?”

“Of course,” Sylvix replied. “She is dead, yet not.”

“I don't feel so good,” said Emalie blankly.

Sylvix thoughtfully reached over and dabbed away the last bits of blood by the wound in Emalie's neck. Then he put down the rag and the tip of his finger ignited in flame. He held it to Emalie's skin and burned a second black hole beside the lancet wound, making it look as if vampire teeth had done this work.

Oliver looked down at the milk carton, swaying heavily in his hand. “You're going to keep that safe?”

“Of course, Mr. Nocturne. When Emalie requires it, I shall deliver it.”

“What about a demon presence?” Oliver asked. “To make her seem like a vampire?”

“Oh, she does not require one,” said Sylvix. “There is already a demon presence attached to her. See for yourself.”

Oliver looked again at Emalie, reaching out for the forces, and suddenly felt a strong, prickly sensation from her. It overwhelmed him, so similar to how it felt to be around Lythia, and yet this was much more familiar. Almost as if he'd known this demon presence for a long time. Had Emalie had some kind of demon within her all along? Was that what allowed her to converse with the dead? Or, was this the essence of her Orani nature, free to reach the surface?

“I have never before encountered something like this in a human,” said Sylvix. “It is indeed a dark portent.”

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked worriedly.

“I mean what I say. Now I believe you have a ball to attend.”

“Let's go, Oliver.” Emalie had gotten to her feet and was wobbling slightly.

You sure you're up to it?
Oliver thought, but Emalie didn't reply. Their mental connection had been lost now that she was undead. “Okay,” he said aloud, and stood and took her by the arm, leading her toward the door.

As they left Sylvix's, Emalie paused, gazing over the chasm. “Lots of death around,” she murmured, then started up the ladders.

They climbed out of the Yomi, and passed through the nearly empty Underground Center, to the first gap between the levels. Emalie's skin remained pale and blue, but a slight fire had returned to her eyes. “I'm feeling a little better,” she said.

“Good,” said Oliver.

She glanced around. “There are so many forces,” she said in amazement. “Everywhere. Pulling in every direction.”

“Yeah,” Oliver agreed, but it sounded like Emalie was feeling them even more strongly than he did.

“Don't you just want to fly away?” Emalie lifted off the ground and easily floated upward, without disappearing.