The New Kid (32 page)

“He . . . infected me when I was sixteen. Your grandfather developed an antidote, so I was safe as I raised you. But . . . when he kidnapped me I . . . succumbed. It’s up to you, now, Will. . . .”

The Dark Lord withdrew his power rod from Edward’s stomach and swiped the air to shake the blood from the pulsing blade. Edward staggered, precariously near a ledge overlooking an apparently bottomless chasm, one of the many vent holes leading farther down into the bowels of the volcano. Will slashed at the beast with his Death Hacker, trying to get to Edward, but the Dark Prince was deft and deflected the blows while Edward clutched at his stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. Will could not watch his father die. No matter what the cost, he could not stand by and just watch Edward—who had raised him and nurtured him and loved him and shared the family secrets and destiny—collapse into death.

Will felt the red curtain in his mind’s eye go deep scarlet with rage as he transformed into a whirling dervish, twisting and leaping and attacking the Dark Lord with his Death Hacker, the blade changing shape as he swung it with all his might. But it was for naught. The Lord of Darkness was not only massive in height and girth but preternaturally strong as well. So Will broke all his oaths and reached behind his neck, tapping the code on his patch and summoning his Excalibur, his power rod. It swooped down out of the sky, racing down through tunnels and catacombs and landed in Will’s outstretched hand to the cheers of those assembled. But Will was too focused on killing the Dark Lord to notice.

“Excellent!” bellowed the Dark Beast as he shifted his weight between his two massive feet and attacked Will full-on, swinging his own power rod. The lightning blades clashed in a shower of sparks as the cathedral erupted in a cacophony of demon cheers. The crowd wanted blood.

The monster was twice Will’s size and far stronger and no doubt more cunning; he’d lived a thousand years, killed and tortured untold legions of humans. But Will would not let his fear show. He knew the Dark Lord was crafty and could crawl into your brain without warning. So when terrifying images of his own death raced through Will’s mind he knew it was the monster’s doing and
he conjured up images of his own, mental pictures of him defeating the Black Beast with a series of artery-severing power rod strikes. The battle raged on two fronts: in their minds and bodies.

Then Will tried something he’d never tried before:
He
made an attempt to invade the
Dark Lord
’s consciousness. His fury was so great he just lashed out—and in a flash he was there, he was in! To say his host’s mind was filled with disgusting and corrupt thoughts was the ultimate understatement. The Dark Prince’s brain was a roiling cauldron of suffering and destruction: whole cities going up in flames, Dresden, Pompeii; scores of innocents suffering and dying in Auschwitz and Hiroshima. The beast thrived on human torment and agony, feeding on mass starvation and genocide. The images swirled and assaulted Will and he shrank back, out of the Dark Lord’s brain.

“You are learning so fast,” muttered the Dark Lord, puffing up his chest.

Will lunged and thrust his power rod saber at the Dark Lord, surprising him, forcing him to use his inner arm to shield the blow, and the hot blade sizzled as it seared his leathery flesh. The beast cut loose with a terrifying howl that shook the cathedral walls and the gathering of demons gasped and chattered in demonspeak. Will took a deep breath, inwardly proud of the minor victory. But, galvanized by Will’s aggression, the Dark Lord spun and kicked and feinted left then brought his other fist, the one not holding the power rod, rocketing up in an uppercut that caught Will full on the chin and lifted him off his feet. While Will was in mid-air the Dark Lord swung his saber blade and even though Will sucked in his stomach, the tip still caught him, slicing through the under armor (no substance on earth was strong enough to offer protection from the power rod’s saber blades)—and connecting ever so barely with Will’s skin. Another gasp from the gallery as everyone looked at Will. Had blood been drawn? No. Though bruised, Will’s skin held. Watching from above, Natalie breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your hubris is your weakness,” said the Black Prince.

Will risked a glance at Edward and saw that he was growing pale. Will had to do something and he had to do it now! He lunged like he was going for another frontal assault then kick-stepped off a nearby boulder and cartwheeled over the Dark Lord. When he was directly above him he stabbed down with his power rod and caught the monster in the back of his neck. Sickening phlegm-colored globs of blood shot up as the beast bellowed in pain. Will landed behind him and swung his power rod saber again, only to meet one of the beast’s wrist shields. The Dark Lord had turned and was smiling.
What is wrong with him?
thought Will. It was as if he was
happy
that Will was so incredibly skilled.

“You have shown me much, young one,” growled the Dark Lord.

He spit in the palm of his clawed hand and the toxic loogie burbled. He slapped it on his neck wound and it ceased spouting blood. It seemed the Dark Lord had his own healing patches.

Now the battle shifted into a higher gear, the lightning-hot power rod sabers colliding again and again and sending cascades of sparks in every direction while the demons howled with glee. The red-faced demonteen leapt down to cheer and saw Natalie and Emily hiding by the wall. He growled, baring his teeth and Emily let out a muffled shriek. Wasting no time Natalie dove for the tri-blade sword just as the demonteen flew at her. She brought the weapon up and plunged the three blades upward with all her might. They sank into the demonteen’s chest, neck, and throat. Luckily his death howl was drowned out by the cheering throngs.

Will used his power rod to send a volley of fireballs at the Dark Lord’s face. He deflected them and returned a half-dozen force field orbs that slammed into Will’s body, knocking the wind out of him.

Will’s whole body ached. He had to retreat and he started to run backward but noticed the floor was slick with the Dark Lord’s gunky blood. So he turned and ran directly back at the towering monster instead, dropping down onto his knees and sliding right at him, hoping to surprise the fiend and open his belly from below. But the
Dark Lord was waiting for him and he slammed one of his huge elbows into the side of Will’s head. Will’s body went flying sideways and his power rod flew out of his hand, skittered across the floor, and banged into a rock. Will hit a stalagmite, then immediately leapt to his feet and lunged for his power rod. But it was too late. The Dark Lord had his huge hand wrapped around the coveted rod. Now he had two.

Will stood on shaky feet. The Dark Lord smiled. The crowd of demons cheered. Will sought solace in one very powerful notion that he hoped was true, it had to be true.

“You’ll never get the third rod of power!” he yelled at the Dark Lord.

The huge beast appeared sad and hung his head, then threw it back and laughed a mocking laugh, joined by a chorus of laughter from the crowd of demons.

“But don’t you see, Will,
I just did!
”

The next sight caused a wave of hopelessness to wash through Will’s body, for the Dark Lord produced, from beneath his tunic,
the third power rod
.

“Yes, Will. I had the second one all along. Killed a Shaman in Tunisia for it four hundred years ago. YOURS was the third.”

Will’s mind momentarily went blank. He was trying to calculate the ramifications of what had just transpired and his brain was overloaded with the dreadful possibilities, all of them catastrophic. He searched for hope and found none. He looked at the faces surrounding him: Rudy, Sharon, Duncan, Jason, Todd, Mrs. and Mrs. Halvorson, Mrs. Norrington, Rex Farmer. They were demonic to be sure, but they were smiling and happy as well. Will could only watch as the Dark Lord took all three power rods and joined them, tips to tips, forming the infamous Triad of Power. The cathedral rumbled. The ground quaked. Massive blinding bursts of light shot out in every direction from the triangle. The yelling and chanting and incessant demonspeak coming from the
assemblage rose into a deafening roar. Will could think of only one slim ray of hope.

“But . . . you don’t have the key!” he shouted above the din.

But again the Mighty Leader of All Demons smiled confidently. His arms shook from holding the Triad of ultimate power and as he turned it slightly the power within ebbed and the triangle calmed down. All eyes were upon the Dark Lord. He motioned to the dual thrones.

“On the contrary. It’s right here! The key is right here before all of us!”

The crowd roared its approval. Natalie pulled Emily to her feet and then farther back into the shadows of the tunnel entrance where they were hiding. Whatever the Dark Lord meant, it couldn’t be good. Where was this key he was boasting about? Natalie looked around the cathedral and saw no sign of any key, just the Dark Lord and Will, the thrones, and the demon throng surrounding them. The Dark Lord stepped closer to Will, holding the Triad. Confusion was written all over Will’s face.

“You’re lying!”

“Come now, boy, you’re smarter than that! Don’t you understand yet? Will, YOU are the key.” The Dark Lord motioned to the thrones.

Will was dumfounded. He stared at them. What could it possibly mean?

“The two of us. Side by side. As it is written,” said the Dark Lord.

“No!” shouted Edward from where he’d collapsed on the ground, still bleeding and barely holding on to life. “You can defy the prophecy!”

Fists clenched with rage the Dark Lord sent a force beam of pain at Edward, who moaned in agony.

“Tell him, Rage, tell him the truth!”

“Leave him alone!” shouted Will as he drew his Death Hacker.

In a movement too swift to be seen by the human eye, still holding the Triad, the Dark Lord snatched the Death Hacker from Will and used it to inflict Edward with a mortal wound.

Edward’s last gasping words to Will were these: “Will, I’m not your father.”

And then he toppled over the ledge into the chasm. Will was in shock. He raced over. His foot caught a rock. He reached out for Edward—for the man he’d always believed to be his father—and fell into the chasm after him.

W
ill was on his back, falling through darkness. Time slowed down as his mind raced back to his extraordinary pre-birth dream of that fateful night so many years ago. His mother had gotten a fever itch and gone out looking for trouble and she’d found it in a big way. He remembered driving around with Edward looking for her, and then falling asleep. He remembered waking up, having to go to the bathroom, walking down the hall . . . and the man, the tall dark figure leaving his mother’s bedroom, his mother splayed on the bed as though used and discarded like so much trash. He remembered the man turning and looking at him now. And he recalled a significant detail from the dream that he could never remember before, a detail so horrifying that he’d been blocking it all these years: the man’s face was that of a creature, and the place where his eyes should have been burned ochre bright, yellow like the sun. Will now understood. The dark pre-birth dream all made perfect sense now. It was real. It
did
happen. He’d been given the dream to warn him. It explained his extraordinary abilities, his inner conflicts, his dual nature—the war that raged within him between good and evil. It was the Lord of Darkness who had taken
his mother, and impregnated her. Edward
wasn’t
his father! The creature that had just killed him was. And this of course led to one inescapable and horrifying conclusion:
Will was the son of the Devil
.

As he kept falling he heard Edward’s voice: “You have to let go, Will.” And Will thought for a moment he understood. Why shouldn’t he let go of the whole damn rotten deal? Why shouldn’t he just forget about vengeance? If this was his fate, his destiny, his birthright, why shouldn’t he take his rightful place? He imagined the surge of power he would feel if he chose to become not just one of them, but a leader amongst them, a warrior prince. The world would bow down to him. Who could resist that?

“
All hail Will Hunter!
”

“
Your word is our command, Will!
”

“
To you we pledge our allegiance!
”

“
You will rule forever, Will!
”

His whole teenage life he’d been an outsider, the outcast, the New Kid, the kid who nobody ever warmed up to or made friends with.

“
Who do you think you are?
”

“
You don’t belong here
.”

“
Nobody knows you
.”

“
Nobody likes you
.”

Now he had the opportunity to be befriended, hell,
worshipped
by everyone he met! He could stop worrying about caring for people. He could have all the girls he ever wanted.

“
You’re so handsome, Will!
”

“
And so strong!
”

“
You’re the coolest boy I’ve ever known!
”

“
Take me, Will, please?
”

“
I’ll do anything you want.
”

Will’s world shifted into the red, scarlet seeping through him, the ruby curtains falling now over the last act—or was it the
first
act? Yes, this was just the beginning! The first delicious taste of his new
life as the earth’s unquestioned ruler! Everyone who had ever done him wrong would pay! Will was coming close, he was going to cross the line. But then again he heard Edward’s voice echo through the tunnel: “You must learn to let go.”

And suddenly it hit Will what Edward meant. It was time to let go of his hate, his lust for revenge. If he was going to survive he would have to release his attachment to the hatred he felt for the beast and replace it with something more pure. He would have to cease being motivated by anger and retribution—by rage. He would have to say goodbye to the red curtain that fell across his eyes as he amped himself up for battle. He would have to
love
. He thought of Natalie. And he thought of his mother. But he wasn’t sure he had the strength.