“What about Cricket?” he asked.
I looked into the crowd. Cricket was already long gone.
“There’s nowhere for her to go,” I said. “She just needs to cool off.”
I was sure I was right-Cricket just needed time. That’s what I convinced myself to believe.
22
For hundreds of miles I’d ridden with a companion at my side. Now, I was alone again.
There’d been no time to argue with Cricket. She’d made her feelings plain, and there were too many places for her to hide in Fallon’s palace for me to go chasing her. She was young and a girl, and now that I was alone I realized the folly of making her my squire. After all, she was at that age. Argumentative. Bullheaded. I was pretty sure a boy would have been no better. Even if Cricket was a boy, I wouldn’t have taken her with me to hunt the monster this time, not after what I’d seen in the hall. I was sure she’d be better when I returned.
If I returned.
I was immortal, or very nearly so, but I knew the monster could best me. To die-and to stay dead-didn’t frighten me. Cassandra was waiting for me on the other side. But the thought of being bested gnawed at me, and I was anxious to find the beast before nightfall.
I wasn’t a tracker, though. I was a city boy, born and bred, and though I’d spent my share of time outdoors, it was mostly on battlefields. Hunting had never come easy to me, even when tracking rass, and having one eye didn’t help. If I were tracking a bear I might have looked for its den. Or water. Or scat, even. But the creature I was pursuing didn’t even belong in this world. I needed something else to track.
* * *
I stopped at the edge of a field, near a ridge of fig trees leading to a canyon. Tall mountains surrounded me. I’d left the palace behind more than two hours ago, and just when I’d thought the trail was cold I saw a scrap of flesh hanging from the tine of a branch. It almost looked like a misshaped fig, but when I reached for it I realized the ghastly fruit was a human ear.
“Fate Almighty.”
A trail of blood and body parts had brought me this far. I didn’t need both eyes to follow it. From the pools in the Great Hall to the puddles in the courtyard, the remnants of Crezil’s victims had fallen like rain. At first it was impossible to go even a few yards without seeing a smear of blood or tattered bit of flesh. But as the hours went by and the landscape changed, the clues became fewer. I touched the branch where the ear dangled and bent it toward me. The ear hadn’t been chewed, just ripped off its owner’s face. I looked down at the ground, saw a few drops of blood, then inspected the rest of the tree. Snapped branches told me which way the thing had gone.
I studied the canyon. A grassy valley cut through it like a ribbon, dotted with buttercups and shadowed by the mountains. The creature hated sunlight, but I still didn’t know why. I wondered if there were caves in the canyon, or if the beast was still plodding toward its lair. Did it know I was after it? Would it even care?
“Malator.”
At first he ignored me. I felt him inside me and yet also far away, moving grudgingly as I called his name. We hadn’t spoken since the tomb.
“Malator!”
His sigh was petulant. What?
“Do you sense it?”
He took his time answering. Yes.
“So it’s near?” I looked ahead. “In the canyon?”
Yes.
“Great. How long were you going to wait to tell me?”
Until you asked me. You told me not to bother you any more, Lukien. You were very clear on that.
“What do you want me to say? That I need your help? Obviously, I do. Not just to fight it, but to find it.”
Are you worried I’ll let you die?
“Actually, yes.”
He laughed inside my head. It could happen!
“Are you going to help me, damn it?”
You know I will. I have plans for you, Lukien.
“Fuck your games,” I hissed. I grew anxious as we trotted into the canyon. The grass and buttercups rose up around Zephyr’s legs, moving in the breeze. I looked up into the craggy mountains, spying nesting birds, but no monster. “Where is it?”
It’s here. Ahead a little. Malator focused his concentration. It’s watching you.
That unnerved me. “If I can’t surprise it,” I whispered, “I won’t bother trying.”
With a jab of my heels I galloped deeper into the valley, jangling in my bronze armor and sending birds flying from the grass. Finally I spun my horse to a stop and pulled out the Sword of Angels.
“Demon!” I cried, raising high the sword. “I am Lukien! Come out!”
How did one call a demon? I looked around the mountains, listened for its approach. The remnants of my cry echoed off the rocks.
“Where is it, Malator?” I demanded. He answered in a calm, almost fatherly voice.
Turn around.
When I spun back it was there, waiting in the flowers, blocking the way I’d come. Twelve feet tall, a mismatch of skins, it had changed from the last time when it was all just bones. Now it covered itself in the flesh of its victims, animating their torn-off limbs and wearing their scalps like hats. It stood hunched on three legs, each a different size and color, all of them bloodied and knit together. It had no head of its own, just the blinking eyes of its prey, and I could not tell if it used them to see or just to frighten me. Mouths moved in silent screams. The blonde hair of a woman sprouted from its back. Five arms erupted from its torso, two of them armored and three of them naked. I looked for a face, a thing that was its own, but saw nothing real among the borrowed parts.
When it was bones it was monstrous. Now it was a horror, all the gore and viscera I’d seen in the hall brought to grisly life. Zephyr roiled beneath me. I fought to keep him steady. The creature moved closer, out of the shadows until the sun struck its body. I half expected the light to burn it, but the sun had no effect at all. It had no weapons, no horns or thorns or sharpened nails. Yet somehow it had shredded Anton’s men.
“Malator,” I asked. “How do I beat this brute?”
Run.
“Stop joking and help me!”
Why haven’t you figured this out yet? It’s a creature from the realm of the dead. It’s here for something, and it won’t leave until it gets what it wants.
To me that sounded like a coward’s answer. “I won’t let it take Anton,” I said.
Then fight it.
“Help me kill it!”
I’ll help you. But we can’t kill it.
“You know something Malator?” I snorted. “You’re useless.”
At that moment I counted more on my horse than I did my Akari. I patted Zephyr’s neck, then trotted slowly toward the monster. Its many eyes turned to watch me and the purple lips along its body parted, showing human teeth. Bloody fingers twitched on its stolen hands. Somewhere beneath its quivering flesh hid the real demon, or at least I supposed so. If I could pierce it, if it had a heart or brain or any real substance of its own, I could kill it. I brought my horse to a stop about twenty feet from it and held out my weapon.
“This is the Sword of Angels,” I declared. “The sword of the Akari, Malator. The sword that slayed the demon Kahldris. My sword, monster. The sword that’s going to kill you.”
The monster’s five arms punched at the air and the mouths opened in soundless screams. Its biggest, tree-trunk leg pounded the ground. I reared back in surprise.
“You hear me? Can you understand me. . Crezil?”
The creature stopped moving. The dead eyes blinked.
“Crezil,” I repeated. “That’s your name?”
I got no answer except the telling silence.