[2018] Reign of Queens Page 2

  His instinct had been to run toward home, to the house they’d grown up in, to the one place he’d always felt safe. But not Mackenzie. Mackenzie hadn’t felt those feelings about her home for the last nine years. There was only one place she could go. One place she could remember that sense of safety. To the park. To the tree where she’d sat with her mother so many years ago, and her only sanctuary since.

  The tree that would be gone now. The tree these monsters would have taken from her.

  Now her feet stopped of their own accord, and she looked up, searching the sky for the unearthly crack she’d seen when her brother had been attacked. This was exactly where she’d stood then, but the shock of that event was gone. It felt so different now, less like awe and more like pain.

  Then she had gazed at the vast opening that tore through the sky, lost in wonder for unmeasured moments. Moments that might have helped her save her brother, might have kept the beast from reaching him.

  When she had looked back, seen that Riley had turned, she’d run for him, leaving the gaping hole in the universe at her back. She’d come upon them just as the creature, cloaked in fur and painted with a dark red that she would later decide was blood, struck out at him, thrusting his claws forward to hook Riley’s arm, scarring him.

  Marked, the shaken news anchors were calling it. Bits and pieces of information were all Mackenzie and Riley had been able to get, scratchy clips they could barely decipher through the static of a battery-operated radio she’d played with as a kid, and a few wild postulations they’d found on Riley’s wireless tablet before the internet had quit. Riley had been terrified. Marked, like something out of a sci-fi film. For nearly an hour, she’d had to convince him this was not some zombie plague. They were just creatures, just claws. He’d been cut as the thing had tried to grab him.

  But that wasn’t it. Because they’d Marked more than just Riley. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Maybe more.

  Since those first few nights, the house had been mostly without power, though now and again the lights would flicker, a low brownout-type draw that destroyed more appliances than helped her get any sort of contact with the outside world. And that was what she needed: to let them know.

  But as she stared at the sky now, thin wisps of cloud ornamenting a cerulean blue, she did not see an otherworldly glow. There were no lights, no colors, no sounds that vibrated through her skin. The gap was gone.

  She took a breath, glancing around for some sign, some indication of the epicenter she’d been so certain was here. Shifting her pack, and not bothering to take out the camera she’d intended to use for proof, Mackenzie stepped forward, almost afraid to disturb the scene. To wake a sleeping dragon.

  Even more so here than near their home, the trees were uprooted, buildings demolished, walkways deserted. A small, wiry-haired dog skittered across the roadway, head dipped low and shoulders hunched, searching for home, or food, or fleeing from something Mackenzie couldn’t see. Water rushed somewhere beyond what was left of the park. The scent of smoke, acrid and cough-inducing, lingered everywhere. Metal road signs skewered the ground, nowhere near their original stations. The ground was littered with splinters of wood, shards of glass, but nothing looked familiar. Nothing seemed the same.

  She moved hesitantly forward, simultaneously yearning for and dreading the site of the tree.

  In the scope of what had happened, it was such a small, ridiculous thing. But it was the one place her mother had taken her, a spot where the two of them could read and talk and simply be.

  It was all she had left.

  Chapter 2

  Mackenzie had a sinking feeling the tree, like everything else, was gone. That this one last link had been taken from her too. She feared it almost more than the other truths, because now that the hole in the sky had disappeared, her entire plan for redemption was wrecked. She’d been going to take photos and report it, location and all, to the authorities, so they could end it for good. She’d been going to get her brother back.

  She glanced one more time over her shoulder at the place the opening had been. She hadn’t imagined the purpled, cosmic-photo-looking rays encompassing the gaping crack in the sky. A portal, an effing sci-fi movie-worthy gateway that had released the apocalypse on West Ridge, Ohio.

  It couldn’t have been. Portals weren’t real. But when she’d turned that day, no longer transfixed in its sheer impossibility, she’d known it was. That thing that was attacking her brother was no illusion. It was all real. Mackenzie had found the epicenter, the source of these monsters, and no amount of disbelief would make it go away.

  She hadn’t told Riley about the portal. Once she’d seen him with the creature, all either of them had cared about was getting to safety. She should have told him, she realized now. She should have said she needed him. It might have kept him from leaving. They might have made this plan together.

  An unearthly shriek jerked her head up. There was a laugh, some hideous, skin-prickling cackle, and the sound of breaking glass. Mackenzie dropped into a crouch, unceremoniously dumping the pack to get a better grip on her bat.

  The sound had come from the landing near the bridge, a seating area for the narrow runner’s path that eventually crossed over a rocky ledge on the east side of the park. She hurried forward to the only remaining cover within reach. It was an overturned pickup, windows busted and cab mangled, but large enough to hide her slender frame. She fought for calm, pressing her fingers tight into the grip of the bat to steady her breath.

  One…

  Two…

  Three…

  She cursed. Counting wasn’t going to work. There was no way she was going to keep her cool with these monsters so near. She should have never left the house.

  Her mouth was parched, her neck beading with sweat. “Get it together, Mackenzie,” she muttered, closing her eyes for one long instant to gather the courage she’d need to come up with a plan. “See where they are, that’s all you need. Find them, and then you’ll know how to get away.”

  She drew the bat up tighter, leaning so, so slowly to peer around the bed of the truck.

  Five of them. Five full-size monsters gathered over the body of a boy, not fifty feet from where she stood. But that wasn’t what turned her stomach.

  That wasn’t what made her run.

  It was possibly the worst decision of her life, worse than the night they’d walked down the center of their street. But Mackenzie didn’t think about what the monsters might do to her. She didn’t think that she could be in that poor boy’s position as quick as a heartbeat. All she could think of was Riley.

  Riley, who might be out there. Riley, who was on his own.

  Her response was automatic. By the time the boy’s blond, blood-spattered hair came into view, proving he was most definitely not her brother, it was too late to change her mind. She was already committed.

  The bat swung, striking one of the beasts square across the back. It hit with a solid thud, but the monster did not go down. He only flinched, as did the rest of them, spinning around to stare at her. It was less than one full second before her victim retaliated, not even enough time for her to reset her swing.

  He struck her. A man-sized fist crashed solidly into her sternum, taking her wind and her grip and every single thought. She landed hard on the concrete walkway, her head smacking the ornamental stone border. Light burst in her vision, sound ringing in her ears; she could not catch her breath.

  Her instincts told her to run. She fumbled for some handhold to get to her feet, but the monsters weren’t watching her. They’d resumed their torture of the boy, kicking and spitting on his prone form, cursing him with their strange, unfamiliar tongue.

  Mackenzie’s reflexes had taken over, or she might have realized how alien, how surreal the entire scene was. Instead, all she could think was she’d lost her bat.

  She rolled to her knees, coughing at the first intake of breath, and sank her fingers into the cold grass of the park’s lawn. Later, she might be abl
e to determine whether it was the familiar feel of that grass, the knowledge of its immutable loss, or the sheer rock-bottom hopelessness of her situation that caused what she did next. Because in that moment, there was absolutely nothing like thought.

  Her hand wrapped around the base of a rusted metal pipe, some remnant of a decorative park bench or iron railing, and she lifted her head to find the monsters before her. She moved on impulse, one swift thrust that shoved her from the ground and into the group. She screamed, hurling her arm forward with every drop of anger and fear and emotion she’d had in the last nineteen years. She would kill these things. Kill them or die trying.

  There was a sudden shift, a realization from the crowd that a human girl was swinging a rusted pipe in their direction, and then confused chatter, clipped orders, pointing and waving of hands. A shriek broke this commotion, the first monster she’d hit staring down at his claws where some thick red sludge oozed through his fingers. Mackenzie had caught the thing’s stomach, opened his guts with the jagged edge of her makeshift bat.

  “Come on,” she muttered. “Come at me now, you—”

  Their leader stepped forward. The fact that he was the largest wasn’t what made her designate this creature as their lead—though he was massive—it was the way he carried himself, the way he moved. His shoulders were straight, wide set and drawn backward. His eyes were on her, dark beneath the ridge of a caveman brow, his lips pulled back in a snarl over man-eating teeth. And he had wings. Wide, golden wings cut like shards of glass instead of feathers. They flicked a warning. She tried not to stare at them, or his bare chest, painted with red-brown dots and uneven lines, or the fur mantle over his back, leather-like straps holding it in place as they crossed his shoulder and abdomen, knotted string hanging down to meet the woven blue cloth that covered his legs.

  “Vanshay-ya,” the monster hissed, and the intensity of his voice nearly caused Mackenzie to drop the metal pipe.

  She glanced at the others, three watching her with narrowed eyes and the fourth crumpled in on himself as he clutched his abdomen. “Get away from me.”

  The thing towered over her, deep gold eyes daring her to move. “Vanshay-ya,” he said again.

  The boy on the ground behind her uttered something unintelligible. His voice was low, but with an air of authority. Like he was giving a command. He must have been hallucinating. He should have been asking for water. Begging for mercy.

  In the back of her mind, she was disappointed for him that his last words were so incoherent, but she didn’t figure hers were going to be much better.

  Now that she wasn’t swinging, the reality of her situation was creeping in. Her palms sweated against the grit of the pipe, and she yearned for the soft, familiar grip of the leather-banded baseball bat. She shifted her weight, the heel of her shoe brushing against the bare arm of the boy behind her. There were two of them there. Two humans against five monsters. And from the sounds of the boy at her feet, he didn’t have much longer to live.

  “Let us go,” she warned. They might not understand her, but it made her feel better. Like she wasn’t just lying down to die.

  She raised the pipe a fraction, readying herself for the final blow, but a screech shot through the silence, piercing Mackenzie’s ears so that her shoulders drew up in automatic response.

  She stared skyward at a winged form flying above. It fell into her mind somewhere between a pegasus and a dragon and she cursed, in absolute awe for what had to be the fifth time this week.

  Her eyes shot back to the monsters, the taste of panic and dread thick on her tongue. They were not looking at her. The smaller beasts had turned their gazes to the heavens, expressions so alien she could merely discern hints of concern and distaste. Only their leader had not been distracted by the sight. He glared at the boy on the ground, unspoken threats clearly recognizable, despite the unfamiliar features and terrifying war paint.

  It was paint, Mackenzie realized now that he’d shifted his focus. His skin was tanned beneath, a hint of flesh showing at the corner of his brow, the tips of his ears. A thin scar crossed his cheek, faded with time. His hair was spiked, and at each side of his head, he wore a small curved horn. No, no, no, she thought, not wore. They’re his. He’s a creature, a demon. A magical fairy that came through the sky.

  She might have shaken her head at the impossibility of it, but Mackenzie was frozen, her throat seized against the need to swallow, her chest petrified around burning lungs. This was not imaginary. He was real. He was a monster.

  He was a mere arm’s length in front of her.

  The boy muttered something and she resisted the urge to kick at him, shush him before he got them both killed. But the monster only hissed strange words that might have been an oath, and spat toward the body on the ground. Suddenly there was a screech, a chorus of sound, and the others rose into the air behind him. Her heart leapt, thundering, but she didn’t even have the chance to hope before the lead monster’s clawed hand thrust out, colliding with her chest to knock her backward.

  For an instant, she thought she was falling, but she was merely bent back, the hooks of his talons fastened into her shirt and towing her skyward.

  It was only a breath, the blink of an eye, and she was flying, feet lifted to dangle midair as her body hung beneath the beast who’d grabbed her.

  Visions of flight and prey birds rushed her, but this thing had no need of his wings, even if she was his carrion. They pressed flat against his back as he rose, sleek as any man. His claws ripped into the fabric he clung to, a thin leather jacket the only thing that kept the meat of her frame intact.

  She glanced at the ground beneath her, impossibly far away. It was flattened earth and upturned sunshine. It made no sense at all.

  A heartbeat later, the creature’s claws opened, dumping Mackenzie to plunge into the empty air below.

  Chapter 3

  All she could feel was air. Terror burned through her, cutting hard against an icy wind.

  Her back slammed into the remains of the railing. It knocked the breath from her chest; what was left of the curved iron bars caught the edge of her shoulder and flipped her forward, head over heels to stare into her descent, straight into the rocky wash below. Falling, flailing, her arm smacked against the spindles, the cuff of her jacket catching the jagged end of a broken rail. It didn’t slow her momentum, but jerked her hard enough to throw some instinct into action, her fingers curling automatically around the metal. The force of it wrenched her shoulder and swung her to slam into the side of the rock ledge before gravity pulled her back to level, hanging—swaying—by a tenuous grip.

  Her body was fire. Everything screamed.

  She was going to fall.

  She was going to die.

  There was a sound over her ragged breathing, a whimper that barely registered as her own. She could see nothing but the floor of the empty creekbed, so far below.

  Her fingers ached, her whole body trembled. Riley, she thought. He’d come home to an empty house.

  There would be no one left for him at all.

  There would be nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

  Like the empty air below.

  A hand smacked the torn leather of her jacket and she screamed. She couldn’t be sure what would be worse, the monster coming back for her, or someone untangling her grip even faster than it was managing on its own. Her free arm came up, scrabbling to catch some part of the bridge, and the wind caught the loose hair that had covered her eyes, finally freeing her to see something aside from the ravine floor.

  Someone was holding her, gripping her jacket as he lay face down on the wood planks of the bridge. He was pale and ragged, blood splashed across the ridge of his cheek and nose, and she realized it was the boy, suddenly much larger, much older up close.

  “Grab on,” he said, indicating his forearm with a nod. She stared at him, eyes flicking only momentarily to her grip on the rail.

  She would have to let go.

  The boy took a deep
breath, and she could see it was straining him, remembered how weak he’d been only moments before.

  “Okay,” she said finally, nodding her confirmation.

  He waited, watching as she did not, in fact, let go.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Your name.” His words were clipped, harder to get out than they should have been. “Tell me your name.”

  “Kenzie,” she said automatically. “Mackenzie Scott.”

  “Mackenzie, take my hand.” His other hand appeared, reaching forward.

  She stared into his eyes, dark gray and pinched with pain. She was too immobilized by fear to release her hold, to trust her life to anyone else.

  His voice came softer this time. “Kenzie, please.”

  Neither of them could keep their grip much longer. If she didn’t trust him to hold her, she would categorically die.

  She held her breath, unsticking her fingers to clamp around his hand. The threads of her jacket began to snap, straining at his clutch on the sleeve, but he was drawing her up, struggling to maneuver between the broken railings. She kicked out, finally able to gain purchase on the base of the bridge, giving her leverage to press herself over chest-first onto the platform with the boy.

  In a matter of seconds, Mackenzie was panting, gasping for air as she lay flat beside him. Body trembling, limbs like jelly, she hugged the wood planks lining the floor of the walkway.

  Alive.

  It was only when her gasps subsided that she heard the low cough. The boy curled into himself, flat on his side as he heaved on the planks of the bridge.

  “Oh, God,” she said, scrambling to her knees alongside him. “Are you okay?”

  His only answer was a shake of his head.

  She glanced at the sky, searching for more creatures, and saw the dragon-bird-thing circling high above. She touched his shoulder, his side. “We need to get inside. Can you stand?”

  He managed to get to his feet, but barely. Mackenzie slipped awkwardly under his shoulder to support some of his weight. Mackenzie wasn’t short, but even with the way he was curled into himself, she could tell she’d severely misjudged him as a “boy” when he’d been lying on the ground. It was probably owing to the five massive monsters that had been standing over him at the time.