F Wilson - The Dark at the End

“And after your son is dismembered, you’ll watch your wife die.”

He cringed at the thought, but took infinitesimal consolation in the fact that Magda’s limited awareness would spare her the worst of it.

“But before her agonies begin, I will restore her mind.”

“Impossible.”

The grin broadened. “At this moment, yes. But I will transform during the Change, and in my new form I will be able to perform”-he spread the fingers of his remaining hand-“miracles. Remember: I never forgive, never forget. And I well remember how that bitch delayed my exit from the keep. If not for her, I would have escaped before you arrived, and everything would have been so different.”

Now Glaeken could smile. “You did your damnedest, but she withstood everything you threw at her.”

Glaeken remembered Magda’s courage, how she’d stood like a lone Spartan with the gate of the keep as her Thermopylae.

“You will both pay for that. And she will be aware of every torment I inflict on her, and will know it is all because of you. That is perhaps the best part: When your loved ones begin to curse you -not me-as the cause of their agonies.”

Glaeken didn’t care about himself, but poor Magda…

“But none of this will take place,” Rasalom went on, “until the Change is well under way. Before your personal agonies begin, I want you to have a front-row seat from your big windows upstairs as the reality you’ve protected for so long is transformed into something incomprehensible.”

Glaeken shook his head. “Gloating becomes you.”

“Why shouldn’t I gloat? I manipulated you and your pathetic band like a maestro directs an orchestra. I’ll even bet it was you who suggested that the baby carry my Other Name.”

Glaeken realized with a dismay that the suggestion had indeed come from him.

“Am I so predictable?”

“Yes! You’ve always tried to avoid collateral damage, and dubbing a nearly mindless human-q’qr hybrid was the perfect solution. That helps me in so many ways. The Heir made the same mistake. If he’d concentrated all the massive firepower he’d assembled upon my car as I arrived, I would be cinders now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m sure he considered it, just as I’m sure he discarded it for my driver’s sake.”

“We’re trying to preserve this world, and those in it, and so we have different rules of engagement.”

“And that is why I was always destined to win, Glaeken.”

“We follow a code-”

“And where has it gotten you? You’ve lost everything-quite literally, everything.”

He began to pace before Glaeken.

“Yes, I should gloat! When I learned of the Gaijin Masamune, I knew it had been repurposed from one of your blades, made of steel from a meteor. And then I learned of the heavily Tainted baby conceived as a result of my old protector and betrayer, Jonah Stevens. Suddenly I saw the possibilities. Nothing of this Earth can harm the Lady, but a sword made of steel not of this Earth could cut her. But would it kill her? Perhaps if coated with tainted blood that is not wholly of this Earth, it might very well inflict a third and final death upon her. And I was right. I was right!”

Glaeken realized that Rasalom had no one to celebrate with, so he was celebrating with Glaeken.

“It’s over, Glaeken. You’ve lost. The Change is imminent now. Remember what I told you in North Carolina: It will begin in the heavens.” He looked around, as if sniffing the air. “I should go. The Heir will be here soon.”

“Afraid to face him?”

“Hardly.” He turned and headed for the door. “But if he sees me he will be all rage, which will overcome the tastier, more delicate agonies he’ll exude when he cradles one of the great loves of his life in his arms and watches helpless as she dies.”

Jack loving Weezy… yes, Glaeken could see that, even if Jack couldn’t.

Rasalom’s cruelty was truly boundless.

As if to prove that, Rasalom turned at the door and added, “And you, Glaeken… until the Heir arrives, you will stay silent in that chair and watch the woman suffer and be able to do nothing to comfort her.”

With that he was gone. Glaeken tried to move but could not, tried to call for help but could not.

He could only listen to Weezy’s agonized moans and watch her writhe in pain…

The first thing Jack saw when he stepped off the elevator was the blood pooled outside the Lady’s door. Heart in his mouth-he’d heard the expression, now he knew how it felt-he rushed forward and grabbed the doorknob. An instant of hesitation while his brain screamed Don’t let it be! and then he pushed it open and Blood. So much blood. Where could it possibly come-?

And then he saw the headless corpse sprawled on the floor. And beside it a head with Eddie’s face, so pale, the eyes so wide.

Jack’s gorge rose. Eddie… innocuous Eddie who’d joined the Order just to network, who’d spent his days crunching numbers, who’d never harmed a soul in his life. Who would ever-?

But Jack knew who.

He stood transfixed, staring until a low moan shook him free and he looked around. There, farther into the room, another pool of blood, another form on the floor, back to him, huddled in the fetal position. It moved…

Weezy?

Oh, no!

He stepped past Eddie, slipping and almost falling in the sticky blood of their merging pools, and dropped to his knees beside her.

“Weezy! Weezy!”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Jack?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “That you? Can hardly see.”

He looked down to where her hands clutched her abdomen, saw a loop of intestine between her bloody fingers.

“I’ll get help.”

He fumbled out his phone, punched in 9-1-1, then noticed “No Service” flashing on the display.

“Too late,” she rasped. “The Lady…”

Jack looked around and spotted a katana next to a nearby wooden chair lying on its side. He recognized the Gaijin Masamune and his heart sank as he realized what had gone down here.

He spotted Glaeken sitting silent and immobile on the far side of the room, staring. Was he too-?

No. The old guy blinked. Jack knew what Rasalom had done to him. Jack had been frozen like that a couple of times himself.

He turned back to Weezy.

“I’ve got to get you out of here, find some help.”

“No,” she said. “Too late. I love you, Jack.”

And then her eyes went blank and she stopped breathing.

“No! No! ”

He rolled her onto her back and jammed his fingers against the side of her throat. No pulse. He parted her lips and blew into her mouth, then placed his palms one atop the other, and began thrusting against her chest.

“It’s no use, I’m afraid,” Glaeken said.

Jack glanced up and saw him approaching in a slow, stiff walk. Apparently he’d been released.

Jack felt a surge of blind anger. “Don’t tell me what’s no use!”

“She should have died some time ago, but he wouldn’t let her. He kept her alive for you… so you would see her die.”

“No.” He kept pumping on her chest. “No!”

“I loved her too, Jack.” Glaeken’s voice was thick with pain. “But she has no blood left to pump.”

When the inescapable truth of that simple statement penetrated, Jack stopped. He slumped forward and rested his face against her silent chest. Pressure built in his own chest until it burst free in an explosive sob.

She was gone. His Weezy was gone. Forever. The light of that brilliant, unique mind, snuffed out, never to shine again.

Rasalom closed his eyes and drank in the misery from above.

Ambrosia.

The strongest individuals provided the sweetest nectar when they broke. The Heir hadn’t broken-it would take much more to crush that one-but he had been deeply gored, and his pain was a delight.