“Maybe there’s more to come. ”
That was what I feared. I wasn’t so sure I was a gate, as Alice had said, as the thing that could build one. I remembered the way the bit of the vortex had clipped off under my tearing hands and spun off into its own tiny black hole. Marsden had said they weren’t made; they just happened. But maybe a Greywalker who could grab on to the power lines and tangled threads of the Grey could do something more with it, with the right nudge. And the right key. I wanted to throw my father’s puzzle out the bus window and never see it again—except that it was my dad’s and it had opened the door at the House of Detention for me. I had a feeling it was my key, not Wygan’s and not part of his plan, or he’d have taken it when Dad died.
I shook myself out of my conjectures and tuned back in to the conversation Michael and Marsden were having.
“More what? What are you talking about?” Michael demanded.
Marsden and I both shook our heads. “I can’t explain it,” I started, unable to say more. A mental block I’d never been able to fathom stopped my speaking of the living nature of the Grey. It wasn’t just power; it was a live thing, a collective of energy that almost touched sentience. And it didn’t want me to say so. Not even to Marsden. Another oddity specific to me.
Real horror took hold of me. What would happen if the magic did start to “know” and what would it do to. everything? It was no wonder the guardian beast hated the living prison Wygan had erected around the hole where my father’s ghost was captive—that was magic in the control of havoc and mayhem. I thought of that on a larger scale—whatever Wygan was up to would have to involve more of that hungry, chaotic fire—and I felt sick to the core. I had to get home. I had to stop it.
“Harper?” Michael quavered. “You all right?”
I shook off my panic, but the disquiet and desperation remained. “Fine. No,” I corrected myself. “I’m scared. But I can’t do anything if I let the fear own me.”
“You didn’t seem scared, before.”
I felt so wretched I wanted to cry, but I swallowed it, closing my eyes against the burn. “I fake sangfroid really well. Just close your eyes and think of ice cream.”
Michael let out a nervous giggle. Marsden snorted. Three injured, crazy people dreaming of dessert. Yeah, we were tough all right.
CHAPTER 43
Once back in the relative safety of the Morning Glory, afloat on the waters of the canal where no vampire would come, we began to plan how to save Will. We knew where he was being held and it was doubtful they’d move him. Alice would want another shot at me and that was an obvious place to take it, but we’d have to make her window as small as possible, force her to come after us with minimal planning and support. We’d have to get in just before darkness when she wasn’t awake to command Simeon or any vampires who might be a lot tougher.
“What about that kreanou thing?” Michael asked. “Is that a vampire or what?”
“That, boy, is the vampire to end all vampires. It hates and it thirsts and it don’t care about pain.”
“Wonderful,” I snarked.
“What’s funny is, they normally go after the vampire what made ’em—driven to it no matter what stands between. That Alice must be controlling it through her sorcerer, Simeon. ” He twitched with unpleasant revelation. “She made it on purpose!”
“Made?” Michael asked.
“They’re usually mistakes. No vampire wants a kreanou coming for them,” Marsden explained. “The rage of death incarnate. Faster, meaner than any of ’em, and it bends magic—it reshapes itself.”
Michael said, “It’s a shape-shifter, like a. a lycanthrope?”
“Not that sort, but they can make some changes to their bodies. It don’t last long, it takes a bit o’ power, and it must hurt like merry hell, but what do they care? They need longer legs? They get taller. They need a bigger mouth? They unhinge their jaw. They don’t usually last long, so they don’t conserve their strength or care for their bodies. Remember that, girl. It’s their strength, but it’s also a weakness you can use against it.”
“And that thing’s going to be prowling around down there?” Michael asked.
“No, it won’t,” Marsden answered. “It’s still a vampire and it still sleeps during daylight. Alice will make sure of that, since she can’t exert control while she sleeps. She’s probably got that Simeon laying sleeping spells on it every morning. And that’s another reason to go after your brother in the late afternoon, before the vampires wake—during the changing of the guard, so to speak—when everyone’s a bit sleepy and off their stride. The kreanou won’t be up and about until Alice is, and Simeon will be tired; the summer daylight lasts longer than his sleep spells can, so he’ll have been up at least once while everyone else was kippin’. But the timing’s tricky, since we’ll be coming at the catacombs from the sewers where we can’t see the sun.”
“Marsden. ” I asked, “how do you kill it? I thought I knew how to kill a vampire, but. Alice is up and walking. ”
“The kreanou’s easy so long as you keep away from him—he’ll do himself in once he’s had the prey he’s after. Let him get at Alice or Simeon and he’ll burn out on his own—he’s tied to their power. If we can break their control, he’ll take out the nearest one and we take the other. The sorcerer’s powerful, but he’s still just a man at heart and she’s not as tough as you think. Stakes just hold ’em down. Decapitation works wonders. As does fire.”
“But she survived both of those before.”
“In special circumstances. The Pharaohn chopped her up while she was immersed in blood. Then he put her into jars full of blood—and probably just the right kind. Everything lived, though plainly she’s madder than a March hare. But if she’d not had the blood or if he’d just cut her head off and left it, she’d have died for good. Once they bleed out, that’s the end of ’em. Or burn ’em up till there’s nowt but ash, or leave ’em for the sun to finish off if you’ve a vicious streak to ya. That’ll turn the trick, though you’ll have the devil’s time getting it done. Panic makes ’em stronger and they’re fly ones to begin with. But you chop her up until the blood’s all gone and she won’t be getting back up. You get her head off and put it where she can’t stop the bleeding. That’ll do the trick.”
“How am I supposed to take her head off? It’s not like a pumpkin on a stick—”
“She’s still healin’. Wounds are weak spots. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy—it’s not—but that’s your only chance.”
Did I say it wasn’t a great plan? It was a desperate plan, but it was what we had right now and we didn’t have time to wait and hope for better opportunities. I sighed. “We’re going to need supplies,” I said. “Some kind of. protective clothes against the water—”
“A boat would be better,” Marsden said.
“How?” I asked. “It’s also a lot bigger.”
“You’ll be glad of it once we’re down there. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s started to rain. And it’s been raining in the north for a few days. All that water’ll be running downhill toward the Thames fast as a flood. We could try with waders and Wellies, but I doubt we’d make it far before we was bowled over like a leaf in the gutter. What we need’s one o’ them little boats like a coracle or them Eskimo things.”
“A kayak?”
“Yeah. ”
“And the bikes—”
Marsden interrupted me. He looked nervous, though I wouldn’t have thought it possible. “You sure about them things?”
“Yes,” I snapped back. “The traffic’s too thick to make it in a car and we’re too slow on foot. It’ll have to be the motorcycles. The Red Brothers have transportation, but a bike’s small and nimble and we should be able to get a lead. We don’t want to lose them; we just want to stay ahead of them.”