Authors: Christopher Pike
“Is it in this world or the elemental world?” Ali demanded.
Radrine suddenly stopped trembling, looked at her in surprise.
“Why, it’s in both worlds at the same time. Didn’t you know?”
Ali took a moment to absorb the news. Then it made perfect sense.
“Thank you, Radrine, I didn’t know that,” she said.
Then Ali hoisted Radrine’s head directly into the last of the sunlight, and the gentle orange rays, as they played over the dark fairy’s hideous face, were like a spray of acid. Radrine went to speak, but her mouth filled with smoke as her tongue caught fire, and Ali saw her brains spasm inside her glassy skull. Then they too began to smolder, as the heat built inside, and the pressure . . .
The dark fairy’s head cracked in two. A geyser of fire erupted
from the top of her twitching body, and Ali threw her down on the ground in the white snow, and cursed her and her master. But in the end, Ali had to turn away.
She felt like she was going to be sick.
No time to grieve, no time to celebrate. Lately, she thought, since she had first spoken to Nemi and learned of her great destiny, her whole life had been that way. The sad thing was, she would have traded it all just to be able to return to that peace she had found with the help of the stardust.
Ali ran off the top of Pete’s Peak and flew toward Toule like a meteorite close to burning up in the atmosphere. She knew her destination—sleeping Nira had provided her with enough clues. It was obvious anyway. Cindy and Steve had returned to Toule to try to gather information on Ms. Smith and had run smack into the Shaktra—in human form. Ali chided herself for having opened the door on that accursed town, before remembering it had been Steve who had made the connection. She just hoped they were both alive.
Flying through the air above the Earth was not the same as gliding over the forests and mountains of the fairies and the leprechauns. The Earth felt
heavier
—her bubble did not respond as well to her will. Swooping down on Toule, she was not out of control, but she had to concentrate to stay on course, mentally gripping the edges of her field to keep from plunging into the trees. She flew close to the latter, occasionally allowing a branch to brush against her bubble.
Ali landed in the woods between Omega’s office buildings and Ms. Smith’s house.
The sun had set, the trees were in shadows, and the air was
cooling quickly. How much drier it was here than in the green world! How many more smells the elementals got to enjoy! Ali wondered how long it would be before she returned to Uleestar. After all her travels, she could not honestly say where she felt most at home.
That worried her, that perhaps
home
no longer existed for her. Through the branches, she could see the people of Toule walking up and down their main street. She realized that many of them must be just getting off work and that more than a few probably worked for Omega. How sad it was, she thought, that an entire town could be built around such a lie and not know it. Yet she passed no judgment on the town’s inhabitants. On her last visit to Toule, she had suspected so little. . .
Ali turned her attention to the task at hand.
They were in the house. No, she sensed, they were
under
the house.
She strode up to the mansion, did not bother to knock on the door, even though it was locked. A quick twist from her hand and the knob broke and the door swung open.
Nira stood in the center of the living room, alone, staring at her.
Ali stepped inside, held out her arms, but the little girl did not come to her. Ali did not mind. Moving farther into the house, she knelt in front of Nira and hugged her, and it seemed, briefly, the girl hugged her back. As they separated, Ali saw tears in Nira’s eyes, heard her sniffle, and then she spoke—perhaps her first clear words since her mother had marked her head and imprisoned her mind.
“Steve . . . Steve,” she said, and her lips trembled.
Ali stood quickly, pain in her chest, and patted her on the head. “Stay here, Nira, do not leave this room. I will be back in a few minutes,” she said.
Yet Nira took her hand and led her to the secret stairway that Ali sensed plunged many levels beneath the house. Nira did not make the descent with her, and Ali did not want her to, for the girl appeared afraid. Alone, her heart heavy, Ali found her way far under the mansion and into the complex maze of caves that must have existed even before the destruction of the power plant. For a time Ali was led by instinct, but suddenly she heard Karl snickering and Cindy crying. Then, consumed with fury, she
flew
down the rusty ladders and through the crumbling caves. . .
Until she came to them, and stopped cold.
One glance told her everything. Told her too much.
Cindy was pinned against a stone wall with handcuffs, her face streaked with tears and exhaustion. In front of her, Karl pranced and laughed, holding a switchblade that was as red as it was silver. He did not notice her arrival, and so Ali was subjected to several seconds of his torturous behavior. But then she spoke one word, and he froze.
“Stop,” she said.
Karl looked over, his grin transforming into a grimace, and did not move.
Ali ignored Karl and Cindy, and strode to Steve, who lay facedown on the ground near a kerosene lamp. As Ali turned him over, she saw that his shirt was red with blood, and that his eyes were closed, and that he was not breathing. His heart had stopped—she could feel the lack of movement inside her own heart. But although her chest felt as silent as his, she felt it break anyway, in so many pieces, and they were like shards of glass inside her veins. They did not so much cut her physical body as they tore at her soul.
It was then she realized that no matter how much power she gained or how many dark fairies she slew, she was still human.
Her pain was a perfect example of how mortal she was—it was endless.
Leaning over, Ali kissed his lips, then stood and spoke to Cindy.
“Are you all right? Did he cut you?”
Cindy shook her head. “I’m all right.”
Ali faced Karl. “So old friend, we meet again,” she said.
He dropped his knife, backed off, his face pale. “What are you going to do?”
Ali walked slowly toward him. “Were you the one?” she asked.
“The one?”
“You know, two weeks ago. The one who killed my mother?”
He shook his head. “No.”
Ali nodded. “You’re lying. Fine, I expect you to lie. But this time, you have to tell me the truth. What did you do with her body?”
Karl swallowed. “We cremated her, spread her ashes in the ocean.”
Truth
. Ali took a moment to absorb it.
“We?”
she asked.
Karl backed up some more, hit a wall. “I did it. But Geea . . .”
“Shh,” she said. He was going to say the Shaktra forced him to do it, and that would be the truth, to an extent. It was only then that Ali realized the reason she had been unable to psychically sense her mother’s location after returning from her first adventure on Pete’s Peak. The Shaktra must have been near her mother and emitting a powerful supersensory field that interfered with Ali’s mental telescope. It was good to know for the future that the evil creature was capable of such a thing . . . should they meet face to face.
Of course they would meet, and probably very soon . . .
Ail came closer to Karl. “Where has Ms. Smith gone?”
“I don’t know.”
Truth. Of course, she wouldn’t have told him. “Has she left the area?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“She left you behind to dispose of Steve and Cindy?”
He hesitated. “Just Steve. She forced me to—”
“Quiet. Why did she leave her daughter behind?”
“I don’t know. She hates the girl.”
Partial truth. Ms. Smith had left Nira behind because she wanted to spy on them through the little girl. After all, Nira was marked, and Ms. Smith already knew how fond they were of her. The woman would assume—correctly—that Ali would keep her near.
Ali moved until she was only a foot from Karl. He recoiled at her nearness, but he did not try to lash out, nor did he run, and it occurred to her that he was hoping she would show him mercy, as she had before. Couldn’t he see that she had neither hope nor mercy left? Steve was dead, her mother was dead, and her fairy mother was worse than dead. . . . No, she thought, he was making a mistake when it came to her. She was no longer one of the good guys.
Ali slowly reached out and gripped his neck. “I want you to tell me something.”
Karl sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re going to kill me!”
“I have this question. I want you to answer it.”
He shook. “Geea . . .”
“
Who
Shaktra?”
Karl did not respond right away. But then a trace of his old cockiness returned.
He must have known he was doomed, for he suddenly laughed at her.
“You fool, she’s your sister!” he said.
Ali froze for a moment. It could have been forever.
Doren
.
“I thought so,” she said, mostly to herself. Then she suddenly tightened her grip and, twisting his head
far
to the side, she heard every bone in his neck break. He died instantly. She let him fall to the ground.
Ali freed Cindy from her chains, hugged her and stroked her head, and gave her healing energy. But Steve was on the floor, in a pool of blood, and Ali finally had to let go of her and pick him up. And it was then Cindy broke down and cried and begged her to bring him back to life. But Ali shook her head.
“That I cannot do,” she said.
Yet as she stared at Steve’s peaceful face, far off she heard the roar that had come to her atop the kloudar, and the peace at the center of the thunder seemed to speak to her once more, and tell her that there was no end to life, as there was no reality to death. She thought she understood. She was an elemental and she was a human being, as were all the people and creatures in both worlds, and perhaps they were all growing toward something greater and more wonderful than they could imagine. She believed that, she really did.
Hugging Steve close to her heart, kissing him once more, she spoke to Cindy.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said.
Ali’s Story Will Continue
in the Next Book in the Series,
The Yanti
Look for
THE
YANTI
0-765-31100-3
by Christopher Pike
Available in hardcover, October 2006,
from Tom Doherty Associates
ALSO BY CHRISTOPHER PIKE
PUBLISHED BY TOR BOOKS
The Cold One
Sati
The Season of Passage
The Blind Mirror
The Listeners
Alosha
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE SHAKTRA
Copyright © 2005 by Christopher Pike
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN-13: 978-0-765-64961-3
ISBN-10: 0-765-34961-2
First edition: October 2005
First mass market edition: September 2006
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1