Two and Twenty Dark Tales (37 page)

“No!” he cried again.

The light shimmered around him and he raced to the rack, giving the wheel a hard twist that threatened to pull Susan’s arms and legs from their sockets.

“Make it stop!” he ordered her. “Stop now!”

She could do nothing but groan. The pain was unendurable. As he gazed down on her, turning the wheel again, the mist curled around him, brushing against his crimson skin. His eyes like coals, he hissed like a serpent.

“Then I’ll stop it with your death,” he said.

A sword appeared in his hand and he raised it over his head. She welcomed death if it would stop the agony; but she was bitterly sorry that she had waited so long to do something about him.

“He is inside us,” said the demon that had hold of King James. “He is trying to stop us. He has always tried. He has always failed.”

Hearing that, Susana grieved for the king as well. If she had moved sooner…

The sword came flying down in an arc. Susana was too injured to move, but she had time for one word, “
Father
—”

And then something came between her and the sword. It was a luminous hand, connected to a figure of shimmering white. Wings unfurled from its shoulders. Her angel. Her stuttering, slowing heart registered astonishment, and hope, and she whimpered—for that was the only sound she could make.

The angel turned its head toward Susana. It said, “Fear not.”

Then angel and demon-possessed king wrestled. The angel would grab hold of the king’s body and throw him to the floor. Then the king swept his leg beneath the angel’s feet and it crashed beside him. The angel struck the king hard across the face. The king made a double fist and brought it down on the angel’s back, where its wings were attached.

And Susana continued to die. She could feel her strength ebbing, so that it took all of her concentration to force air into and out of her lungs. Her heart skipped beats, then did not beat, then beat too fast. Her blurry vision caught flashes of white and scarlet; and shrieks like the demons of hell buffeted her bleeding ears.

The two fought all over the torture chamber, their shadows thrown against the wall. The possessed king called for guards, but none came. The angel tossed him to the floor again and again, but each time, the king rose and dealt the angel a terrible blow.

Beneath the punishment of the king’s pummeling fists, the figure of light began to fade. Fists crossed in an attempt to ward off the blows, it shakily turned its head toward Susana, and for the first time, she saw its face.

He was a young man near her age. His eyes were wide and heavily lashed with silver; his nose was long and straight; his generous lips pulled back in a grimace of defeat. Two tears like diamonds rolled down the hollows of his cheeks.

“I am sorry,” he whispered.

“He is losing hope,” said the monsters inside the king. “And when hope is lost, we swoop in.”

***

The king raised the sword over his head and brought it down on the angel’s head. With a cry, the angel crumpled to his knees and his light grew so dim that Susana could see through him.

The demons are going to win
, Susana thought, horrified.

But then her heart—not something in it, but her heart—forced her eyes to stay open. She whispered to the angel, “Fear not.”

He blinked at her and his lips parted in astonishment. And then his light grew a little brighter once again.

“Fear not,” she murmured.

His wings unfurled as he got to one knee. But the king was rushing him again, ready to pummel him.

And then she looked past his shoulder and yelled at the king himself. “Fear not!”

“He is terrified,” the demons informed her, laughing. “He gave up hope long ago.” He kicked at the angel, who darted just out of reach. The king charged after him.

“Fear not, sire, fear not!” she cried.

The king staggered backward as if something had struck him; as he staggered, the angel flapped his wings back, forth, in a slow, deliberate manner. Then white light burst from him, blazing like the star that had hung in the sky, and the king opened his mouth to scream. The light poured into the king’s mouth, and the angel moved his wings again. White light filled the room, surrounding the king, filling him, lifting him up into the air as he struggled and fought.

Susana’s manacles and ankle bolts fell away. As she sat up, she felt no pain. She leaped off the rack and fell to her knees, crying, “I fear not! I fear not!” Then everything became an aurora of brilliance, and she fainted.

***

When she came to, she was seated in a small chamber. One window was open, and she saw the sunshine, and many trees, and heard merrymaking.

She had been placed into an overstuffed chair, wrapped in an ermine robe. She gasped. It was the king’s coronation robe. And to her right was a golden tray; upon it, a jeweled goblet of wine and a filigreed dish of plum pudding.

Across the chamber, the king was kneeling at a prayer desk; a large illuminated Bible was opened before him. He was murmuring the Lord’s Prayer.

He lifted his head. “Ah, you’re awake,” he said raising his head. He turned to look at her. “Once named Robin and now…?”

She took a shuddering breath. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. Let me tell you how I came to disguise myself. I had a vision—”

“And I thank God that you did,” he said, rising. He walked to her and picked up the cup. “I must beg forgiveness of you, and of all my people. Henceforth, my new reign has begun. One of peace, and tranquility.” He gestured to the window. “Word has spread among those who should be told that I was not myself. I can only hope their curses will turn to blessings.”

He handed her the cup. She was too shy to drink it, and he smiled.

“Fear not,” he told her. “Mistress…?”

“Susana, Your Majesty.” She snaked her hand from beneath the ermine robe and took the goblet from him.

And as she drank, she thought she heard the pounding of her heart, or the booming of the thunder, or the thumping of drums; but the sound she heard was none of these:

It was the rushing of wings as the angel—her angel—hovered in the window, the sun behind him, gazing at her with a heavenly smile. His wings moved, and he touched his fingertips to his lips and blew her a kiss. She felt it in her heart, and her eyes welled with tears.

“‘Tis not farewell,” the angel said. “For I am yours.”

Then the light blazed so bright that she had to shield her eyes. When she lowered her hand, the king was on his knees, and he was surrounded by a hundred—a thousand—baskets of bread. He looked up at Susana, and they began to laugh. Then they each grabbed up handfuls of bread and tossed it out the window. She saw a towering may pole, and fiddlers, and mummers and jesters. She saw happiness as the bread rained down like manna from heaven.

Drummers played, and the people cried, “God save the King!”

And Susana knew that God had.

Through His angel and his servant, He had.

-YE END-

Publisher Acknowledgements

This anthology would not be possible without the devastatingly creative minds who have contributed stories, including: Nina Berry, Sarwat Chadda, Leah Cypess, Sayantani DasGupta, Shannon Delany with Max Scialdone, Leigh Fallon, Angie Frazier, Jessie Harrell, Nancy Holder, Heidi R. Kling, Suzanne Lazear, Karen Mahoney, Lisa Mantchev, C. Lee McKenzie, Gretchen McNeil, Pamela van Hylckama Vlieg, K.M. Walton, Suzanne Young, and Michelle Zink.

Special thanks to Michelle Zink, who also served as an editor, making the stories rock even harder. Thanks to Pamela van Hylckama Vlieg, who also helped with blog promotion. Next, a special thanks to Month9Books staffers: Jennifer Million, Mandy Schoen, Kelly P. Simmon, Linda Covella, Cameron Yeager, and Rachel Bateman.

To Tracey and Karen at Media Masters Publicity and Deborah Sloan at KidsBuzz and Deborah Sloan and Company: without your generosity of time and service, we’d be just another book released into the world without anyone aware of its existence.

Francisco X. Stork. I could not be more appreciative of the person you are, or the level to which your contribution has elevated the value of this anthology. Thank you for indulging our darkness.

Dana Borowitz, you came in like a whirlwind, and made me feel not so crazy after all.

Tamar Rydzinski, my agent, confidant, and friend. Thank you for supporting my crazy ideas, and pushing me to do my best.

Finally, to Super 8 and Fantastic 4, you are my loves and my life. Without you, I am nothing.

Author Acknowledgements

The following contributors have chosen to include the below acknowledgements.

Leigh Fallon

Huge thanks to Georgia and the team for all their amazing work and support. It was a pleasure working with you guys. Also, to my wonderful critique partner, Morgan Shamy, and the gorgeous Kim Harrington who ran her spookometer over Wee Willie Winkie for me, you guys rock. Lastly, thanks to Tina Wexler, my agent, who is the epitome of awesome.

Nancy Holder

My sincere thanks to Glenda Jackson, my first Elizabeth.

Heidi R. Kling

For victims of child abuse, please know that there’s a brighter life waiting for you to find it.

Karen Mahoney

For Mum, who read it first.

Georgia McBride

Thank you to Mother Goose for creating a world of dark, rich wonder.

Shannon Delany and Max Scialdone

Both Shannon and Max would like to thank the staff at Month 9 who made this process easy, and their joint beta readers: Jen McHugh, Steven Blaze, Patty Locatelli, Melissa Murray, and Karl Gee. Shannon also thanks her family and friends and gives special thanks to Max Scialdone who taught her a lot about music and musicians during this process. Without Max’s friendship and expertise Marnum and Cyrelle’s world wouldn’t sing. In addition, Max would like to thank his mother for her unwavering support.

Pamela van Hylckama Vlieg

I would never be able to write such dark things without the imaginative childhood I had. I would like to thank my mother Barbara Herzig for that. My Agent Laurie McLean for helping me brainstorm, and my blogger BFF Shanyn from Chick Loves Lit for beta reading. To my husband Marco, and my children Addie, and Elijah - I would be nowhere without you.

K.M. Walton

Thank you to Georgia McBride for asking me to participate in this anthology and for believing in my writing before I even had an agent. Thank you
to
my agent, Sarah LaPolla, for everything. And to my husband and sons, thank you for allowing me the time to get lost in my stories.

Suzanne Lazear

I'd like to thank the world’s greatest interns Julie and Harmony.