Sarah Brennan: The Demon's Lexicon

“Not much,” said Nick.

Arthur smiled the smile of a man who had guessed right.

“You never did feel much, did you?” he inquired softly. “You always thought half the things the humans did were mystifying and stupid. You didn’t want to save people like Alan did. You didn’t want to get close to people. You don’t even understand what love is. Do you? Human love. Do you know what it is?”

“No,” Nick said quietly.

“Do you know anything about it?”

“I don’t,” Nick said, and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Arthur’s voice went even softer, though the softness was too smooth and easy to be kind. “It’s all right now. You’re free. You don’t ever have to pretend to be one of us again. You know the truth, and you know your own power. You know how it works: At sixteen, the body can control the demon magic. You turned sixteen, and I sent a messenger to find you. I promised you I would stop at nothing to get you back, and here you are. Where you were always meant to be.”

If Arthur was so concerned about him, it was funny he hadn’t put forth his best efforts until the time came when Nick could be useful.

Nick thought of the messenger telling them, Black Arthur says that now’s the time. He wants it back.

It. Nick. The charm Mum had worn had just been another lie, and the look on Alan’s face when that messenger came had not been fear for Mum. He hadn’t been plotting and lying to shield Mum.

Nick ventured a glance at Alan, but Alan’s face was still turned away.

Black Arthur was still talking. “You have what no other demon has ever had: a body of your own. You can do anything you want.”

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted anything. He just felt cold.

“I gave you the world,” Arthur said. “And now you can give me the world — or enough power to swallow up all the other Circles, to become the most powerful magician in the world. That’s all I want, and I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Why should I?”

“We made a bargain when I gave you this body, and now I’ve explained that I expect you to keep it. You gave me your word.”

Had he given his word? He couldn’t remember that, couldn’t remember any of it, but he did remember Alan’s voice saying that the demons would do anything to escape their world.

He looked at Black Arthur’s face, his hungry wolf’s eyes, and believed him. He had made a bargain.

Blood was pounding in Nick’s temples. He looked again at that icy reflection in the clock face and then down at his big hands. He had been right, he thought, looking at the curve of his fingers by firelight as if they belonged to someone else. Black Arthur had given him these hands, that face, and every drop of blood in his veins. Arthur only wanted what he was owed: what Nick had promised him.

He hadn’t promised him Alan. Black Arthur had no right to touch his brother.

“My word?” Nick said. “I have words of my own now? I thought Alan gave me all of them. You asked me what I felt. I don’t feel like giving you a thing.”

Arthur shrugged. “I suppose it would be too much to expect gratitude from a demon. You force me to remind you that you have stepped into a magic circle. If you ever want to get out, you need to cooperate. Come, now. What does it matter to you? You can give me what I want without even trying. You owe me, and I wish to collect, but I won’t be your master. I told you this was a partnership. I contributed the body of my son, and now you will contribute the power, and together we will be able to do anything. We will be able to have anything.”

Nick did not want to be trapped here for the rest of his life. He wondered exactly how much power Arthur wanted, and how he was supposed to give it to him. He suspected that a lot of people would be cut down in Black Arthur’s progress toward power. He wondered if that should matter to him.

The air of the room seemed heavy with the weight of all these expectations. Black Arthur was watching him. All the magicians were watching him. All but one.

Mum’s voice shattered the tense silence, light and easy, as if she was about to sing.

“What about me?”

Arthur looked vaguely startled. Nick thought he might have forgotten she was there. “Livia,” he said, turning his head. “You’ll be with me. I will give you anything.”

“I told you,” Mum said, smiling suddenly. “I only want one thing.”

She had her hands clasped to her breast, like a little girl hiding a secret from her elders. Nick remembered that she had been playing with her charms before. He knew that small, mad smile. He was not surprised when she opened her cupped palms a little, and they all saw the shimmer rising from her charms. Mum walked towards Arthur with her fingertips wreathed in gold and blue.

“Yes?” Arthur asked.

Mum was still smiling when she reached Arthur, and she let her charms fall blazing against her chest. She reached up and threaded her fire-ringed fingers through Arthur’s hair in the same tender gesture she had used before. Arthur was smiling back at her a little; she cupped his face in her hands.

“Arthur,” she murmured.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Give me back my child,” whispered Mum.

She caught Arthur’s mouth in a kiss. She was holding him close when she burst into flame.

“OLIVIA!” MAE SCREAMED, FAR TOO LATE.

The room was suddenly a space confining a riot. Some magicians were rushing to help their leader, throwing out water charms and damping spells into the air. Some magicians, like Gerald, were moving unobtrusively toward the back of the room.

When Mae moved, Nick thought the knife at her throat would cut it, but Jamie looked at Mae and made a desperate effort.

The knife at Jamie’s throat never moved. The knife at Mae’s throat went flying. Mae slammed an elbow into the man’s stomach and hit his chin with the top of her head. When he let her go, she threw herself at him, and they both went crashing to the ground. The magician holding Jamie moved to help him and Jamie stepped swiftly away. They stood staring warily at each other, eyes locked. The magician twisted under Mae, fingers scrabbling for his knife, but Mae snatched her own knife, the knife Nick had given her, out of her pocket and held the blade to his throat.

Nick heard her pant, “Don’t move.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Alan move, and he turned away from Mae. Alan was taking advantage of the chaos to pop one of his wrists out of alignment, grimacing as he did so, and slip his bonds. He bent his wrist back into place, glanced at Mae, at Mum, and finally at Nick, and then raced for the door. The door slammed shut, and Alan was gone before Nick could blink.

Nick could not move. He could do nothing but watch, and he watched Mum burn.

There was a fire now to rival Anzu’s, and this fire was real. Nick could feel the heat of it, could smell Mum’s burning clothes and hair and flesh. Arthur was screaming, trying to break free of her embrace, throwing up shielding spells, and still enveloped in flames. Nick saw his pale face remain untouched in the center of the fire, while his black hair became a streaming torch. Mum put up no defenses. She did not even scream. She just burned, skin crackling and going black, hair a sheet of flame. Nick knew she was alive only because the fire was still going, backed up by more power than he had ever dreamed she still possessed, burning with the rage and hate Mum had been saving for fifteen years. Arthur’s voice was an inarticulate roar, and the water spells were bouncing off them. For a moment Nick thought that Mum was actually going to succeed.

Then she tumbled against Arthur’s chest, the kiss broken, her body reduced to charred skin and bones. Arthur gasped for clean air, his clothes and hair hanging in blackened remnants.