Chapter 2 #2
She moved her hair aside and he lay his hand to the bare skin at the nape of her neck.
Fire raced over her body. She could call it to life easily enough on her own, but it was stronger when Darlington was close, strongest when they were in physical contact.
In the flickering blue light, she saw Janie Keep in her rocking chair and the thing that was not a baby clutched to her chest.
When Janie looked up, her eyes were black pits in their sockets. Maybe they’d arrived too late. Maybe her soul was too far gone to recover.
“Your son needs you,” Alex said.
“I know,” Janie said. She was trembling.
“Your real son.”
A troubled expression passed over her gaunt face and the monster at her breast left off its feeding.
In the second it turned to Alex, its face transformed, the sweet plumpness of its features giving way like melting wax, its jaw distending to reveal a glistening row of teeth wet with blood.
“Now!” Darlington shouted and tossed the puzzle box they called the Voynich Coffin into the air.
The thing’s eyes fastened on the cube, mesmerized, lunging from Janie Keep’s arms with unnatural speed.
“No!” Janie cried. “No!”
But it was too late. As soon as the demon’s chubby hands locked over the salt edges of the box, its gurgle became a scream. The thing’s human disguise gave way, like the soft rind of a fruit gone rotten.
The hairy body of a wolf emerged, tongue lolling, limbs set at wrong angles, knobby shoulders hunched.
Killing a demon was close to impossible, but they could be trapped, they could be contained. Alex could do it. No one else.
Darlington kept his grip on her neck, seizing the puzzle box out of the air with his other hand, luring the demon on.
It lunged toward them, but Alex was ready, arm extended, Darlington’s hand on her bare skin, the burn of hellfire the tether between them, keeping her rooted to this realm.
The demon shrieked as Alex drew it into her body, as she’d drawn Grays to use their strength, as she’d pulled Darlington’s soul into her to bring him out of hell, as she’d done to Golgarot when she’d threatened to drag him into their world.
The demon fought, but Alex was the Wheelwalker and her demand could not be ignored.
She tasted sulfur on her tongue, felt the weight of its—soul?
Spirit? She didn’t know. But it was heavy.
She felt her head bow, then went to her knees, unable to carry the heft of it.
This was poison in her body, a sea of human sorrow and hope, the vastness of Janie Keep’s longing.
She closed her eyes and saw the endless plateaus of hell, saw Golgarot enthroned and the empty seat beside him.
He held up the jeweled yoke that would make her queen and slave, and his voice was rich with pleasure when he spoke.
Hunt all you want. My armies are infinite and we are coming.
Helpless. Hopeless. Death was waiting—no, not just death, an endless torment. Alex had scraped by her whole life, slipping through cracks that became escape routes, punching a hole in the wall when she couldn’t find a door. But she wouldn’t escape this.
“Alex.” Darlington’s voice—clear, cultured, human. “Open your eyes.”
She forced herself to do as he asked and saw him before her, ringed by blue fire, his horns glowing golden. She felt the tether that bound them. She had held his soul inside her.
The taste of honey filled her mouth, the sweetness washing her tongue clean of sulfur. She heard the bright clang of steel on steel.
“Be rid of it,” he told her.
Across the planes she met Golgarot’s gaze.
Soldier, your hour draws closer.
“How do you say fuck off in demon?” she bit out and spat the sludge of the demon’s essence into the Voynich Coffin.
Darlington had set the box on the floor. Its white salt walls and lid were intricately folded into a maze, each crease printed with the supposedly unparsable text of the legendary Voynich manuscript. A perfect puzzle. A perfect trap for a demon.
She heard the thing give one last cry as it vanished—a child’s cry, a final jab.
Alex knew it wasn’t a real baby, that all demons were the same once they went into the box.
They were pure need and nothing more. But she knew that cry would chase her into dreaming when she finally lay down to rest tonight.
Darlington was bracing her with his arms, keeping her from falling forward. They were both on their knees on the floor of the room of a baby who had never been a baby and who would never grow to be a child. Janie Keep lay shuddering in the corner, weeping, rocking back and forth.
Alex could feel herself shaking, her teeth chattering.
She wanted to lean into Darlington’s body, to be comforted, to be reassured.
She wanted to swallow his goodness and let it infect her with some noble sense of purpose she could cling to.
She thought of the Christmas morning she’d spent at Il Bastone, the only good Christmas she could remember.
She thought of the smell of pine boughs and the piles of pancakes Dawes had made, of Darlington in his coat and pajamas shoveling snow off the walk.
Life. Comfort. Safety. She just wanted to keep a bit more of it for herself, something good and real to hold on to when her time was finally up.
Death was waiting. She just needed it to wait a little longer.