Chapter 16 #2
the stone.”
“That’s right,” Gwen said.
“And that’s why the robe changes everything. You can hide under the robe,” Robin said, “so King Sorrow can’t see you and he
can’t burn you up. He’ll have to come close to find you . . . close enough you can stick the Arthur-sword into him.”
“Yes. That’s the idea.”
“Okay. It sounds like a lot of foolishness, but at least it’s consistent with the foolishness that got you into this situation in the first place.
Where were we going to bring Arthur back?
You said it has to be someplace important to him.
” Robin rubbed her hands together and shivered.
“I’m excited. I haven’t been to a séance since I was twelve and Brian Knab pulled out a Ouija board at a sleepover. Where and when do we go to work?”
“Where is the Brooks Library. Arthur loved that place. He hated stealing from there. It was like—I don’t know. Being made to assault
a lover at gunpoint. But . . . Robin . . . we aren’t going to bring him back. I am. By myself.”
This was met with a tense, startled silence, and blank looks. Allie was the first to break out of it. She began to shake her
head.
“No. No way,” Allie said. “You’re not doing this alone.”
“Of course I am. You’ve all already done your part. Robin, I wouldn’t know about Colin if you hadn’t found the troll.”
Robin sat back, jaw set. “Yeah, I was fine help to you there. Got you right on the death list, I did.”
Gwen ignored her, went on, “Allie, this wouldn’t work without the martyr’s robe and the mirror. You got me both.”
“Not sure what the hell I done,” Tana said.
“I am,” Gwen said. “Without Allie, I’m nowhere. You picked her out of the road. You’ve looked after her for most of a month.”
“You got me sober,” Allie said, in a small voice. “The last three weeks have been the first sane weeks of my life in years.”
“But I have to do this last part alone.”
“No.” Allie was shaking her head again, her eyes brimming.
Gwen put her hand over Allie’s. “Yes. All you can do if you come with me is get killed. My conscience is already carrying
all the weight it can stand. If I lost one of you it would shatter me.”
“We can help bring Arthur through,” Allie said, and then sat up, eyes widening. “We could bring Van too. One sword good, two
swords better. Van would come back for me. I know he would.”
“Yes,” Gwen said. “I think he would too. But you’re still not coming.”
Allie said, “Wait. Stop. Think this through. If you face him alone, you have to wait until he comes for you at Easter, when he’s at his full strength.
But if we work together, we don’t have to wait.
Gwen, I could touch my mark and bring him through tonight.
He’s weaker now. Smaller. Isn’t that true?
Isn’t it true he grows in strength and size as Easter approaches, until he’s
finally big enough to break through into our reality?”
Gwen grudgingly nodded her head.
“So how big do you figure he’d be if you yanked him into our world right now?” Tana asked.
Gwen shrugged. “Size of a car? In another couple weeks, the size of a helicopter? But we’re still not doing it that way, sorry.”
“Why? Give me one good reason.”
“Well, for starters, anyone who’s with me probably winds up charbroiled.”
Robin said, “But that isn’t all of it. Or even most of it. Is it? There’s another reason you don’t want us along, isn’t there,
Gwen?”
Gwen nodded. “After his Easter feast, he slumps back to the Long Dark, weak and exhausted. He sleeps, and I guess he shrinks.”
What had King Sorrow told them? That he started as small as an evil thought, a worm in the brain. Gwen shuddered at the memory
of it.
“So?” Allie said.
“So if Gwen can’t kill him, we try her plan again, and we call Van through. And then he’s the sword,” Robin said.
“And Allie can use the mark to summon a version of King Sorrow as weak as a kitten,” Tana said.
“I don’t know if he’s ever as weak as that,” Gwen said. “But you’d at least have a fighting chance.”
“I want you to have a fighting chance, Gwen,” Allie said. “Let’s do it together. Tonight. Please.”
“I do have a fighting chance. It’s right here,” Gwen said, and touched the robe and the mirror.
“You haven’t said what this was.” Robin pointed at the green thermos.
“Dragon tears,” Gwen said. “Someone who swallows them can breathe fire . . . a fire hot enough to burn even a dragon. I could
blind him with these. Or at least enrage him, so he’s not thinking too clearly when he comes for me.”
“Thought that stuff also kills,” Robin said.
This time Gwen did not reply.
“Gwen doesn’t care,” Allie said, and one of her eyes overspilled. “She isn’t planning to survive.”
“I was planning to drink the tears one way or another,” Gwen said. “This way, at least, I have a chance to take a dragon with
me. Besides, I won’t swallow them if I don’t have to. Think of it as an emergency escape hatch. Whatever happens Easter morning,
at the very least, I can cheat him out of killing me. I know he’ll hate that.”
“Everyone good dies,” Allie said. “Everyone bad lives. I hate it. I hate it so much.”
“Not everyone good dies,” Gwen said. “Why do you think I’m leaving you and Robin and Tana out of it, Allie?”
“I don’t agree to this plan,” Robin said. “Not yet. I need to think about it. Will you give me time to mull it over, Gwen?
Time to convince myself that letting you face him alone really is the right thing? It doesn’t feel right, but what feels right and what is right aren’t always the same.”
Gwen shrugged. “Nothing happens until Easter. I guess there’s time for us all to sit and think on it.”
But about that, Gwen was wrong.