Ilona Andrews - On the Edge

The third try went well for the first ten minutes, and George began to have hope, until a group of older foxes started smashing the new building with sticks.

“Why are they doing that?” Georgie asked.

“They don’t want the city to change,” Declan said. “They’ve realized that if they keep growing, they’ll run out of space.”

Five minutes later, some foxes were chained, marched to the lake, and forced into the water.

“Why?” Georgie whispered, watching them drown.

“They are probably the ones who wanted the city to grow. The others must have decided that the population should remain the same. The city can only support so many foxes. This is their way of controlling it.”

“But . . .” George bit his lip, as the foxes brought out little fox babies and one by one threw them into the lake. That was just about enough of that. He marched to the control panel and hit a reset button.

Declan straightened. “I’m going to go inside now. You know how to reset the dome back to default. The spell will probably hold through the night, but I doubt we’ll get more than twelve, fifteen hours from it, so if you want to run it a bit more, best to do it now.”

GEORGIE felt Rose’s arms close about him. She hugged him. “It’s almost midnight. You should come inside.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, staring at the dome. “A little longer.”

“Declan and I decided to sleep on the porch tonight to keep an eye on you. If you run into any trouble, you come and get one of us, okay?”

George glanced back. On the porch, Declan and Grandma were arranging some blankets.

“Okay,” he said, reaching to the control panel. If he reset it just one more time, maybe it would be fine. It had to be fine. There had to be a way for it to end well.

ROSE awoke when the first hint of sunrise colored the sky. Georgie sat on the steps, hugging his knees. She stirred. At the other end of the porch, Declan’s eyes snapped open. He looked at her from above the back of a small lynx who curled by his side. Jack must’ve taken off his bracelet in the night. Probably to keep an eye on his brother.

Rose untangled herself from the blankets and went to sit by Georgie.

“How long did you stay up?”

“The whole time.”

She glanced at the pool. A beautiful city shimmered within the dome. Declan had explained the concept to her last night, while she trimmed his hair so it didn’t look lopsided. She had watched Georgie from the window for about an hour, while Grandma hemmed and hawed and threw up her hands in disgust trying to trim Rose’s own butchered hair into some semblance of a decent haircut. In that hour, Georgie had cried twice. Rose had desperately wanted to go and comfort him. But her sympathy would do more harm than good. Something profound was happening to Georgie, and he had to go through it alone.

Now, as he sat next to her, he seemed older. Somber and almost grim.

“It went wrong every time.” He wouldn’t look at her.

“The city looks fine now,” she said.

“That’s because I let them die. I set the dial back to fifty years. I had to. There was no other way.”

She hugged him and kissed his hair.

“Life is so precious because it’s short,” she said. “Even the most resilient people are fragile. Life isn’t about dying or not dying. It’s about living well, George. Living so you can be proud and happy.”

Georgie hunched his shoulders.

“I’m ready,” he said. “I just want to see them all. For the last time.”

Behind them, Declan rose quietly and picked up his sword.

They released Grandpa from the shed and headed into the Wood, Jack padding ahead, a lithe, feline shadow, then she and Georgie with a look of intense concentration on his face, then Declan, and finally Grandfather, snarling and mumbling to himself.

They came to a large clearing, where last year Donovan’s trailer had burned to the ground, nearly setting the entire Wood on fire.

Georgie sighed and spread his arms.

A minute passed. Then another. Sweat beaded on Georgie’s forehead.

A rustle troubled the bushes. The branches bent, releasing a small raccoon into the open. A bird swooped down and landed on the right. A litter of young kittens scampered into the open, followed by an old three-legged black Lab. Several squirrels emerged, scuttling . . . A puppy with an oddly shaped head . . . They came and came, dozens of mangled, broken creatures, repaired by Georgie’s will. They came to their master and sat in a semicircle around them.

Rose drew a sharp breath. So many. Oh, dear God, so very many. It’s a wonder he’s alive at all.

Georgie approached Grandfather sitting in the grass and hugged him.

“It’s time to leave,” he said.

The creature who used to be Cletus looked at him with rheumy eyes. “Will I see you again?”

Georgie shook his head. “No.”

Grandfather hung his head. “I’m tired,” he said.

Georgie rested his hand on Grandfather’s shoulder and looked at the wall of creatures.

“Wait!” Grandma’s voice rang.

Rose turned. Éléonore stood behind them on the path. She swallowed and slowly walked past them. Grandfather saw her. Tears swelled in his eyes. Éléonore stood by him, and he hugged her legs. She patted his matted hair.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling. “You can do it now.” Georgie’s lips shaped one quiet word. “Bye.”

A faint sound emanated from the semicircle as if the undead who couldn’t breathe exhaled in unison.

The creatures dropped to the ground. Grandpa toppled forward softly. A sweet sickening reek of decaying flesh filled the clearing. Rose gagged. The beasts melted, their ruptured carcasses leaking fluids into the ground. Another moment, and they decomposed down to their bones.

By Éléonore’s feet, Grandfather had become dust. She emptied one of the herb pouches she carried in her pockets and gently scooped some of the powder into it.

Georgie swayed. Before Rose could reach him, Declan picked him up. “Is that all?” he asked.

Georgie nodded.

The four of them turned and headed back to the house.

“Rose?” Georgie raised his head from Declan’s shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to be George from now on,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “That will be fine, George.”

He nodded and said, “I’m hungry.”

ROSE sat on the porch, a cup of tea in her hand. Inside, George ate like he hadn’t eaten in years, and Grandma was overjoyed to pile more food into his and Jack’s dishes.

The screen door opened, and quiet steps approached her. Declan sat next to her on the steps.

For a long minute they said nothing, then she leaned to him and brushed his cheek with her lips. “Thank you for saving my brother.”

She pulled away before he could touch her.

“You don’t seem happy,” he said.

“I am. It’s just . . .” She ducked her head. “I’ve lived with this fear for so long. He started raising things when he was six. He’s ten now. For four years, I watched him fade. I know that it hampered his growth. He probably never will be as tall or strong as he should’ve been.”

“Children are resilient,” Declan said. “Given the right diet and exercise, he’ll hold his own.”

“I’ve tried to help him,” she told him. “I’ve done everything I could think of. Once Grandma and I put him to sleep for ten days, hoping that all of his creatures would die. But they just kept on sucking the life out of him. This will sound so terrible, but I’d convinced myself he couldn’t be helped. I think that’s the only way I could deal with it. I never stopped hoping and trying, but deep down I sort of came to terms with knowing that one day he would just burn down, like a candle.” She covered her face. “You saved him. You saved Georgie. I’m so grateful. I don’t want you to think that I take it lightly. It’s just that I don’t even know what to say. I’m scared to believe it. I should’ve tried harder . . . I should be thrilled, but I’m just so . . . lost. Stunned.”