The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(75)

Charlie did look regal. His jaw was set and his eyes were hard. Even in his tattered rags, Charlie looked every inch a king. But none of this felt right.

“I don’t want to kill you. I want the killing to end.” Charlie turned his eyes to the battleground. “Stop this—all of you. Yes, we are different. Deeply, fundamentally, we are different, but being different doesn’t have to mean a decision between separation or confrontation. I have to believe there’s a third path. I have to believe that we can walk that path together.”

The hush spread gradually over the battlefield, swords and clubs lowering hesitantly as men and monsters and all manner of magical beings looked up. Even the shuffling undead slowed their shambling attacks as Mr. Tilde turned a disbelieving eye toward his kneeling king.

“Not a bad speech, Dog King.” Arawn’s voice was a purr. “But what is a king without a crown?” Obsidian glinted in Arawn’s hands.

“NO!” I screamed.

The jagged spikes of the Dire Crown pierced just beneath Charlie’s ribs, burying themselves deep in his chest, biting into him like terrible black teeth. Arawn raised Charlie up by that horrible crown, held him there until the blood ran down his arms in rivers, held him up until Charlie’s eyes—which had always been Charlie’s eyes, no matter what form he took—were no longer Charlie’s eyes.

Arawn dropped what was left of Charlie ungraciously to the stage and placed the bloody crown calmly back on his head. Wet streams of crimson ran freely down his face.

The whole world shuddered and darkened. There was no sound. Only when I found myself out of breath did I realize I had not stopped screaming. Some part of me would never stop screaming.

Charlie was dead.





Chapter Thirty-Two

Arawn threw the switch.

My vision swam. As if from deep underwater, I took in what was happening. The flower of metal disks up above us burst into light like an enormous beacon. All around the tower, soldiers staggered to the ground. The undead were the first to fall, sustained as they were by Tilde’s magic. I watched numbly as Shihab’s blue flames flickered and dimmed. Bird women fell from the sky. The earth shook as the giants collapsed under their own weight. For a moment, the confused humans watched the otherworldly creatures crumble around them and allowed themselves to hope that their salvation had come—but then they, too, began to weaken and fall to their knees. The containment reserve above us trembled, lights blinking to life as it filled, gorging itself on the life force of friends and enemies alike.

Jenny hung in the center of the field, helplessly watching as they fell around her. She, too, was fading, thinning.

Charlie was dead. Help was not coming. The veil was falling. The Dire King had won.

I trembled, and the black blade nearly slipped from my grip. I held fast. Why was I holding on?

I lifted my eyes and saw the pain I felt inside my soul playing out on another face. Alina was slumped on the floor of the control stage.

“Alina,” I called out to her. “Please, Alina. We can still fix this if we act quickly. You need to believe me!”

“Kazimir is the only one who ever believed in me,” she said. Her voice sounded as numb as I felt. “All my life, he told me I could become more than what I was. Now? I don’t even know what I’ve become.”

“You’re the choices you make, same as all of us. Good ones, terrible ones. It’s never too late to start making better ones. Please.”

“You don’t know the choices I’ve made!” she snapped. “I believed in Kazimir, too! He always said he wanted more from life than to run away, but then he ran away! That’s what he chose! He was my light, and then one day he wasn’t there, and I was alone in the dark.”

“You’re not alone now, Alina. Please. Help me. If I can get this blade to Jackaby—”

“My kingdom is dead. My father is dead. My brother—I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Believe in what your brother believed in,” I said.

Alina wiped the tears from her eyes and glared at me. “In what?” she spat. “In you?”

“No,” I said, tossing the black blade to land at her feet. “In you.”

Alina blinked and wiped her face on her arm.

“I’m believing in you, too. I’m trusting you. For Charlie.” She picked up the sword. “Give that blade to Jackaby. Hurry!”

A dark resolve had come over her face. “A new sun is rising.”

Alina turned. She stepped up the platform—in the wrong direction. Jackaby was still crouched behind the panel. Alina took the blade directly to Arawn.

She held the sword high, offering it to him. I felt a sickening weight in my gut. After everything she had just witnessed, she was still serving the Dire King. Don’t waste it, Charlie had said. His last words to me. I felt dizzy.

Arawn pulled a lever and the light dimmed. The device hummed to a stop. The reserve had filled to capacity. In the field below, soldiers from all sides lay barely moving, barely breathing.

“I gave that blade to my daughter,” Arawn said, eyeing Alina skeptically.

“I know,” Alina breathed. “When you sent me to unlock her from her prison, I used it to cut her bonds.”

Arawn was dispassionate. “I have no need of it, little dog. I have my machine.”