Billy: Messenger of Powers (47 page)

As he looked around, he saw that he wasn’t alone. There were other cubes. Thousands of them, it seemed, all stacked on top of each other in a mountain of transparent cells. Billy’s own holding cell was about ten cubes above the ground. He could see straight below him to the mass of other glass cells underneath his. They were all full, all the cubes he could see. Each one held a single person in it. Some of the people slept, others paced back and forth in their tiny compartments. Some were screaming in fear, others moaning with dreadful resignation to their fates.

He looked up, and realized he couldn’t see the sky: row upon row of other cells were stacked above his, and the mass of bodies above him obscured his view. He couldn’t even tell how many rows of cells there
were
above him. There were enough that they all blurred together at some point. The weight of the cells and the people in them seemed to press down on Billy, making him feel claustrophobic as no trip through the depths of the earth had managed to do. He felt like he had been stuffed in the world’s most awful locker.

Billy looked to his left and right now, trying to spot Ivy among the hive of Dawnwalkers who were imprisoned in this magical jail of sorts. At last, he spotted the Green Power, and gasped at her appearance. Ivy was still clothed in her plants, but those plants were completely wilted, if not dead. Scattered brown and yellow leaves littered the floor of her transparent cell, and the rest of the vines that still wrapped themselves around her looked brittle and pale. She was slumped against the wall of her cell, a cube that was only about twenty feet away from Billy’s.

“Ivy,” he said again, “what’s going on? Where are we?”

“We’re in—” she began, but a voice interrupted her.

“You’re in Wolfen’s power,” said the voice. “More than that, you don’t need to know.”

Billy whipped around in time to see a dark hole appear behind him. And out of the hole stepped the owner of the voice, that low, too-sweet voice that contemplated death as a delicacy.

Mrs. Black smiled, her almost happy bearing belied by the animalistic leer in her eyes and the predatory twist of her mouth. “So, my boy, we work so hard to catch you, when all we really had to do was wait for you to catch yourself.” Mrs. Black smiled daintily. “I must confess I’m somewhat disappointed,” she said. “I had hoped to have some…
alone
time with you.”

Billy gulped. He glanced toward Ivy, and saw that his friend was pressed against the wall of her cell that was closest to Billy, a look of concern on her face. The plants she wore apparently weren’t completely lifeless, because they twitched and writhed with brittle scrapings, echoing their mistress’s fear.

Billy looked back at Mrs. Black, surprised to see that she hadn’t conjured up some kind of enchanted firearm or at the very least a pointy stick to jab him with.

Mrs. Black seemed to understand the look on his face, because her smile drooped a fraction. “Don’t worry, we’ve decided not to touch you. Not yet, at any rate.” Then her shark’s grin returned suddenly. She waved a hand, and Billy felt terror course through him. The Dread. He gasped, and immediately doubled over as Mrs. Black leaned in close. “Lucky for me,” she said, “there are a lot of things I can do without actually touching you at all.”

Another wave, and the fear Billy felt increased, almost immobilizing him in its terrible grip. Silent tears poured down Billy’s face. He felt something warm at his heart, and looked down. Bent double, he could see down the loose neck of his t-shirt, and he spotted Prince in there. The fire snake Fizzle had encircled itself around Billy’s torso, and was now pressing its head against Billy’s chest, near his heart. It was Prince that was giving Billy the feeling of warmth, and with it some measure of resistance to Mrs. Black’s spell of Dread.

Billy blinked back his tears, not wanting to give Mrs. Black the satisfaction of seeing him cry. But he still couldn’t move.

“No!” shouted Ivy, her hands banging uselessly against her glass cell.

Mrs. Black looked at the Green Power and laughed. “Does this bother you, Ivy my dear?” Another dark laugh, then Mrs. Black continued, “Too bad the prison cancels out the Dawnwalkers’ Powers, isn’t it?”

“If you hurt him, so help me, I’ll—” began Ivy, her small fists curled at her sides.

“You’ll what?” interrupted Mrs. Black. She prodded Billy with her toe as she spoke, as though he were a cockroach that was lying on its back, and she was checking him for life before wadding him up in tissue and then dropping him down the toilet. “I know your type, little Ivy. Ever the peace-maker, ever the pacifist.” Mrs. Black’s prodding turned almost into a kick. But Billy hardly noticed. Indeed, he would have been glad to have something to focus on other than the bad memories and terrible feelings of fear and inadequacy that accompanied the Dread. “You’re all about peace and love,” continued Mrs. Black to Ivy. “But when push comes to shove, those things don’t even mean enough to you to be willing to fight to keep them, do they?”

The warmth at Billy’s bosom increased, and he managed to rise slowly to his feet.

“That’s it, Billy,” shouted Ivy. “Don’t let her beat you! Don’t let her get you down!”

“Silence!” snarled Mrs. Black. She waved a dismissive hand at Ivy, and instantly most of Ivy’s plants went from brown or gray to deep black. The flowers and vines around her died instantly, and Ivy winced as though this had caused her some kind of physical pain.

That would make sense, Billy realized in the midst of his misery. If the Powers put their own essences into their spells, that would mean that killing Ivy’s plants would result in some pain to her personally.

Mrs. Black smiled and laughed at Ivy’s pain. “Sorry,” she said in mock pity. “That looked like it hurt.” Then Mrs. Black grinned sarcastically. “But look on the bright side, Ivy.” She gestured at Ivy’s glass vault. “You’re the only plant I know with her own personal greenhouse.”

Then Mrs. Black gasped in clear amazement as Billy, his forehead sweating from the effort, somehow managed to stand. His shoulders were drooping from the almost physical weight of the Dread, but he struggled to his feet anyway, buoyed up by Prince’s help and by an inner strength he hadn’t known he possessed.

Mrs. Black waved again, and Billy winced as the terror he felt redoubled. But he wouldn’t let the fear rule him, wouldn’t let himself be pushed down again. He gritted his teeth, and managed to grind out the words, “Don’t you think…Wolfen will…be angry if… you kill me?”

Mrs. Black curled her lip derisively, but then waved a hand once more, and Billy could feel the Dread dissipate and leave him. Mrs. Black looked at him as though re-appraising something she had already dismissed as being of no value. “Well, well,” she whispered. “Perhaps you are more than what you seemed, Mr. Jones.”

“That’s right, Eva,” shouted Ivy from her cell. “He’s the Messenger! Lumilla knew it, and you know it, and Wolfen must know it, too!”

Billy quietly wished for Ivy to shut up. His friend was in the Darksiders’ power, and he knew that her triumphant words would not go unnoticed or unpunished. He knew that she must be desperate, jailed as she was, helpless and at the mercy of the merciless, and so was grasping at Billy’s ability to withstand the Dread as a kind of victory by proxy. But he didn’t think now was a good time or place for her to go flaunting her small triumph.

Mrs. Black’s expression darkened, and Billy knew he was right. Ivy, too, seemed to sense that she had crossed some kind of line, for she grew suddenly silent, and moved as far from Mrs. Black as she could.

To Billy’s surprise, Mrs. Black didn’t lash out at the captive Green Power. Instead, she just smiled. The smile, though, was more chilling than any threat could have been. “Don’t worry, my dear,” whispered Eva Black. “Your time will come. Just as it will come for Lumilla, and Vester, and any of the rest of your friends who dare stand against Wolfen.” She looked at Billy and added pointedly, “Wolfen the White, the
true
Messenger and King.”

Ivy shrunk back, but in spite of the threat in Mrs. Black’s words, Billy’s heart leapt in his chest. His friends were still alive! They had to be!

“Where are they?” he yelled without thinking.

“Who?” asked Mrs. Black innocently. Then she waved her hands expansively. “Perhaps they are here, in the prison. Perhaps they are somewhere else on Dark Isle. I’m quite sure I don’t know.”

Billy was positive Mrs. Black was lying, but he also knew that he wasn’t likely to get a straight answer out of her. She approached, and Billy took a step backward in spite of himself.

“What?” purred Mrs. Black. “Afraid? But I thought you were the Messenger. Surely the White King would let no harm come to you.” She said it mockingly, her words like honey-coated poison.

As she spoke, she reached out and grabbed Billy, her icy fingers wrapping around his pale wrist. As soon as she did, a searing pain etched itself into Billy’s arm. He looked at where Mrs. Black was touching him and saw that the skin around where she was grabbing had turned an ugly gray, the color of death. The gray color pushed its way up Billy’s arm, and he gasped.

He felt Prince move under his shirt, and knew the Fizzle was about to strike at Eva.

Not now, Billy thought. Not now, Prince, now is not the time.

He didn’t know how he knew that, but he somehow sensed it was true. Now was not the time for the Fizzle to strike. There would come a time to do battle, but the time was not now.

Either Prince sensed Billy’s thoughts somehow, or the snake decided on its own to lay low for a time, because Billy felt the serpent flatten out against his skin and suddenly stop moving.

“Come,” said Mrs. Black. She touched her ever-present scarab broach, and Billy knew enough to hold his breath. “My minions in the Accounting Room told me you wanted to talk to Wolfen,” she said, and Billy felt that familiar yanking as he was Transported from his cell to somewhere else. “And I guarantee you,” she said as they arrived in their new destination, “Wolfen wants to talk to you, too.” She laughed, that dark, evil laugh of hers. “Talk, and maybe other things. Things that are much more…fun.”

A dark crackle of electricity marked her words, and a second later, before Billy had a chance to really realize where they were, a clap of thunder struck close nearby. It was so loud that Billy felt like his ears were going to explode. He winced, and then opened his eyes.

“Never will those who wage war tire of deception,” said Mrs. Black. Then, a moment later, she added, “For mine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory.”

Billy didn’t know what she was talking about. But he did know that what he saw terrified him. He had seen Dark Isle once before, on the wings of the Unicorn when the magical creature spirited him away from his first Test of Power. But that had been a view from afar. He had glimpsed the rocky cliffs, the black and shark-infested waters that surrounded the island, the forbidding rocks and sand. He had not, however, stood upon its highest peak, as he did now.

Behind him, and far below, he could hear the crash of water. He risked a look, and saw that the peak on which he stood ended only a few scant feet behind them, falling away in a vertical line that ended in the angry ocean that surrounded the island.

Then he looked back to the middle of the island. To the horribly gleaming majesty of the newest addition to Dark Isle: the prison.

Billy had himself been inside the prison only moments before, and had felt burdened by its enormity. Looking at it from the outside he felt absolutely crushed by it, even though he was no longer captive in those crystal cubes. The prison was as huge as he had suspected, a gleaming mountain of glass blocks that had been carefully stacked, as though some evil toddler had used the island as its playground. Only instead of the colorful letters and pictures of a child’s playthings, each of these blocks held a single isolated soul inside it.

Billy felt completely discouraged. He knew that Powers Stadium had held over a hundred thousand people in it, and that half of them had been Dawnwalkers. Vester had also told him during Napalm’s Challenge of the lovely Fulgora that that was almost all the Powers on the whole earth. And if that was true, and if Billy’s eyes weren’t lying, probably most of the Dawnwalkers were already here, incarcerated in this crystalline prison.