The Dark Light (31 page)

“But not forgotten,” said Sol. “We can’t risk your being spotted with us. We go in as opportunistic thieves—nothing more.”

There was one problem we hadn’t yet discussed. “So how do we intercept the delivery guy without anyone noticing? It’s a pretty big part of the plan.”

“We lure him somewhere quiet,” said Delane.

“And how do we do that?”

Delane grinned. “That’ll be with Vermillion Blue.”

Vermillion entered on cue. I kept my gaze firmly off Bromasta’s face. Having seen the “Vermillion Effect” in action, I thought I’d vomit if I caught the same dreamy look in my dad’s eyes.

“No offense, Vermillion,” I said, as she sandwiched herself between Sol and Delane, “but everyone in town must know who you are. You’re not exactly hard to spot.”

“Then we will make it hard.” She snuggled against Delane. “Delane, you choose. I know you have favorites.”

“Twenty-eight,” crooned Delane. “Do twenty-eight.”

I tried not to laugh. Vermillion was growing on me, especially since I knew that she and Sol weren’t together. I don’t think I’d ever met such a self-confident person. I would have loved to have seen her in action with Kieran and Seth; she’d turn them both into quivering wrecks.

Though Delane looked like he’d be happy to have Vermillion stay at his side forever, she swept to the corner of the room where she drew back a curtain revealing an alcove of shelves, crammed with bottles and jars. “Twenty-eight,” she said, scanning the rows. “Here she is.”

She returned with a small green jar. “Beseye,” she said, and, after unscrewing the lid, removed a strand of long, dark hair. “A
touch of Balian, though weak.” She inhaled. “And Fauna Demon somewhere along the line. Unusual mix.”

Beyond mystified, I stared, as mesmerized as Delane. “I love twenty-eight,” he said, almost drooling on the table.

Stunned and slightly repulsed, I watched as Vermillion placed the tip of the hair on her tongue and then closed her mouth.

The change started gradually: a couple of twitches beneath Vermillion’s skin. Her lips, firm and plump, pursed to a heart. Her ice-blue eyes darkened to brown. Vermillion’s scarlet hair blackened and then
receded
into her scalp until it lay at shoulder length. Her silvery skin transformed to tan. And as all of this happened, the metamorphosis gained pace elsewhere. She was shrinking, for one.

There was no violence or jerkiness to the transformation. Everything slipped and slid, like melted chocolate poured into a mold. And where it settled, it set, until finally Vermillion was gone, and a petite dark-haired girl, who couldn’t have been much older than me, stood in her place, her body dwarfed by Vermillion’s long white gown. The girl—
Vermillion?
—smiled and the entire face came alive with a stunning, exotic beauty. She looked Hawaiian to me—big brown eyes, golden tan, glossy waves of ebony hair. Gorgeous.

I scanned the others’ faces, but they weren’t shocked like
I was. Delane in particular. The only way I could describe his expression? Half-baked.

I looked back at the girl. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I blurted. “Did that really just happen?”

“I’m rarefied Simbia, Mia,” said the girl, her voice deeper than Vermillion’s. She batted huge black lashes at Delane. “A shape-shifter. And this is number twenty-eight. Delane’s favorite. Do you think our man will like her?” She raised her arms and twirled. Vermillion’s gown almost slipped down to where it shouldn’t. “Now excuse me,” she whispered, and she pulled the strand of hair from her mouth.

“You are still Vermillion, right?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.

“Of course,” she replied, as she returned the hair to the jar. “But I need a template to change. I found twenty-eight in Jova City many years ago. So
beautiful
.

“‘Vermillion,’ she said to me. ‘One day I will be old and ugly. Use this hair. Keep my beauty alive.’

“Now she is a part of my collection.” She pointed to the jar-filled closet. “And now I must change this dress. The girl is so short. How did she see anything from down here?” Clutching the dress to her body, she breezed to the door, but not before she shot Delane another provocative wiggle.

“We’re gonna use Vermillion to get into the Velanhall, right?” I said, as soon as she’d gone. The costumes in the upstairs
closet finally made sense. “She could transform into a guard.”

“She’ll be part of the plan,” said Delane.

“But this is perfect. She even has guard uniforms in the upstairs closet. It’s simple.”

“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Bromasta replied. “Not even a guard can wander at will into the Velanhall.”

Okay, so my father was a glass half-empty kind of action hero. I’d yet to hear a better suggestion.

“Let’s just worry about Malone for now,” said Sol. “We’re going to need the decimators. Where’s the bag?”

“It’s upstairs,” replied Delane.

I jumped to my feet. “I’ll get it,” I said, glad to prove I could be useful. “I am supposed to be in charge of supplies.”

Inside the guys’ bedroom, the bag of spells lay on a chair beneath the window. I checked what was left—a handful of repellers, plenty of the exploding decimators Sol had used on the demons, and a couple of larger greenish-yellow orbs that I didn’t recognize.

The distant drumbeats penetrated the room’s silence and my nervousness returned. It was getting close to the time when the celebrations would begin in earnest and the parade would start its slow journey through Orion’s streets. And the Suzerain? Was he already here? Might I even see the man who’d brought so much darkness into my life?

I stared at the decimators as I envisioned the parade marching by. Just one man had caused so much trouble. I imagined him waving to the crowds, me among them. I’d shuffle closer to the road, reach into my pocket and . . .

“Did you find it?”

I snatched up the bag and spun to find Sol at the door. “They’re right here. I was just coming down.”

He closed the door and then sat on the bed. “Mia, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” I replied. “I’m nervous, though.”

The drums rolled and I clutched the bag of spells more tightly. This was it. Any minute we’d leave the house, and, with a little luck, the Solenetta would be back in my hands. Would Sol stick to his word? Or would he force me back to the Barrier as fast as he could? That was all for the future. First, we had to get the necklace back.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” I asked. “Malone must know who you are. Why doesn’t he say something?”

“He knows only that I work for the king,” said Sol. “He doesn’t know I’m his son.”

“Then why doesn’t he turn you in?”

“Because if he does, he knows what will happen to him when we topple Elias. You don’t earn loyalty from a rat like Malone. You trade it.”

Happy to spend these last few minutes alone with Sol, I came to his side, trying not to think what it would be like to fall back onto that bed with his arms around me. Now really wasn’t the time.

“He’s going to know it was us,” I said, carefully placing the bag at my feet, conscious of the decimators inside.

“But we’re not going to give him proof.”

“Does that even matter?”

“Depends on what Malone does once he finds the Solenetta missing. He may say nothing and slope back to Bordertown to lick his wounds. Coming clean to the Suzerain creates problems for him, too: why he didn’t pass it to the Bordertown sentinels; why he hung on to it here. I’m sure he could talk his way out of it, but any deal with the Suzerain is risky. If he does confess, things could turn bad here. It could be dangerous for you.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Changing the subject, I said, “Besides, we’ve got Vermillion on our side. I can’t believe no one told me about her. Did you see my face?”

Sol laughed. “You said Delane told you.”

“He skipped that part.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Sol. “Delane’s been wildly in love with Vermillion since we were kids. She came to court when we were eight or nine. That was it for Delane; he’s never been the same since. He’s incapable of rational thought when she’s around.”

“Then you’ve known her a long time.”

“She knows my father from years back.”

“How old is she?”

“Older than you think.”

I recalled Vermillion’s tale of the girl from Jova City. How long ago had that been? Was the girl now old, her fears realized? Or maybe she was dead, her wish immortalized in Vermillion’s skin. I wasn’t sure if it was romantic or creepy.

“Vermillion doesn’t swipe hair off pillows, does she?” I asked, thinking of my bed next door.

“You don’t want to end up in one of her jars?”

“No, thanks. She’s gorgeous, but I feel like she’s dangerous, too. Like a cute dog that might bite.”

“You have good instincts,” said Sol. “You should never underestimate Vermillion. She’s one of less than a hundred rarefied Simbia left.”

“Why so few?”

“They’ve always been rare,” he replied. “And then Elias hunted them to virtual extinction.”

The Suzerain. Was there no misery in Brakaland that he hadn’t caused?

“I don’t understand why he’d do that,” I said. “I’d want the Simbia on my side.”

Sol slowly nodded. “He used their blood to create the visage demons.”

Sickened, I pictured Vermillion in all her glory, tried to imagine towns, cities filled with other beautiful Simbia. And then I thought of the visage demon beneath my window in Bordertown—cold, cunning, devoid of all the life that made Vermillion what she was.

“That’s awful,” I said, though the words didn’t come close to describing how I felt.

“He’s found other ways to do it now, using what he learned from working with Simbian blood,” said Sol. “But he’s made very dangerous enemies of those who’ve survived. Vermillion amongst them. She joined the Sons of the West, determined to make him pay. I have no doubt she’ll achieve that. Shape-shifters are formidable opponents.”

It was all so wrong, as wrong as Narlow’s deserted streets and the sentinels who struck fear in Bordertown. How far would that monster go to get what he wanted? Did he care about anything, or anyone?

“Sol, if you had the chance,” I said, “if you got close enough, would you kill him?”

Sol had a curious look in his eye. “I don’t know,” he said.

“But you must have thought about it.”

“Many times.”

“He can’t be allowed to get away with this. He’s destroying your world.”

“What do you think this is all about?” he asked, raking his hand through this hair.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Boys playing games?”

“If only it were.” He twisted toward me and placed his hand on my leg, forming a small intimate space between us. “He’s dangerous, Mia. He sees a world without the Barrier—a collision of cultures that could never endure. We know so little about what he plans to do next. We only know that we can’t let him get started.” He took my hand and his fingers entwined with mine. “Just stay close to me out there, okay?”

I smiled. “Like glue.”

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t even be coming.”

“But you know there’s no way to stop me, so you’re stuck.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he said, but he was smiling too.

Yearning simmered inside me. It was both addictive and terrifying that I could feel this way about one person. He leaned in for a kiss, a light brush of his lips against mine. It wasn’t enough. Nestling in, I rested my hand on the bed, my other reaching for his face, his hair.
Stop, world,
I chanted.
Just stop.

Sol kissed me once more, his gaze lingering on my eyes as he pulled away. He didn’t want to stop either. I could see it in his face. With a half smile, he groaned. “We have to go,” he said. “You definitely won’t change your mind and wait here?”

I shook my head.

I watched him head for the door, torn between following him or calling him back. I suddenly had a shiny new plan. We could rescue Jay and then stay here, hidden, forever. No one would know. I could be with Sol. Elias could have the Solenetta. Without me it was useless to him anyway. Until he discovered how to break the spell that bound it to me, or cracked its secret in some other way. . . .

With Sol’s back toward me, I glanced at the bag on the floor and images of the parade returned to my mind. I hated this Finneus Elias, and that wasn’t a word I used very often. I
hated
him. But maybe there was something I could do about that.

As Sol left the room, I reached for a decimator and dropped it into my pocket.

A
massive boom resonated through Orion’s streets and an explosion of multicolored stars cascaded across the sky.

“I guess that’s it,” I said. “It’s started.”

“Then let’s hope the celebration brings out most of Malone’s men,” Vermillion replied.

We waited at the head of a dark passage, which cut between the stores on the side street where Sol and I had followed Malone’s man. It was quieter here than the day before; most of Orion’s population lined its main thoroughfares. Rubber Man and his audience had gone. I peered down the street to where Delane casually waited on the other side of the store. We’d be in
place for some time. I prayed we hadn’t missed our man.

“Still nothing,” I said, and shuffled back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous.”

“Think of the result. It is worth a little fear.”

Vermillion remained in the shadows, almost invisible in a long black cloak. A deep hood shrouded the face of the Jova City girl. “Sol told me what happened to the Simbia,” I said, and looked beyond her to where, far back in the gloom, Sol waited too. “I’m sorry.”

“It is long past,” the Jova City girl’s voice replied. “But it will be avenged when that monster and his demonic hordes are wiped off the face of this land.”

“I don’t know how you can to be so close to him and not try
something
.”

“I have patience,” she said. “Great patience.”

I adjusted the bag on my back, heavy with cloaks and spells, ropes and bindings, and thought of the decimator in my pocket. Would the chance come to use it? For Vermillion and the Simbia, for the valley, for Jay, for me.