A Death of Music Page 14

  “If we go at night, I can hide us like I did before,” Penelope said. “At least get us as close as possible.”

  “That’s a good point,” Dynah said. “We have these elemental powers we can use. In addition to our powers as Riders.”

  “There’s something else, too,” Penelope said. “Willow already knows, but I haven’t had time to share much with you two.” She nodded toward Dynah and Felicity. “Down in Spider Woman’s lair, I was able to create that ball of light by focusing on happiness. Instead of how anger triggers our magic as Riders. It’s just a little thing, but it might help. I think if we all start practicing, over time we can use our power in an entirely different way.”

  Felicity pulled Sekhmet’s book out of her cloak. “This will help with that, too. There’s a spell in here that can help us change our powers from dark to light. To perhaps even reverse the Apocalypse.”

  Penelope leaned over to peer at the book, but Willow crossed her arms over her chest. “Those are both great ideas, provided we can survive past the next couple of weeks. The angels are going to notice that Zane’s missing, and Sekhmet is out for revenge—let’s just hope she hasn’t realized you stole her book—and we still have this Ragnarök thing to stop.”

  “Your optimism is overwhelming, Willow,” Dynah said drily.

  Willow shrugged. “Just trying to keep things in perspective. The odds aren’t in our favor.”

  “Well, let’s fly, then,” Felicity said, putting her book back into her cloak. “We don’t want either the angels or Sekhmet to catch up to us. Our only chance at this is to get the sixth seal before they do. Take Asgard by surprise.”

  The Riders rose and set about getting the horses ready. Within a few minutes, it was time to depart. Willow cast one final look across the glittering expanse of green water, a sight she never thought she’d see in her life. Magic existed, and so did angels and demons and goddesses. And her horse could fly.

  She really hoped it wasn’t all about to end, just when things had really started to get exciting.

  They mounted up and took to the skies. Bullet reached the clouds in a matter of moments. They flew until the warm air over the ocean changed, until a chill crept into the air. Great swaths of green stretched below them, forests and meadows and wooded mountains. And they went further north still, to a land where winter held reign, not like the land of heat where she’d grown up. This was a place of frost and snow and ice, a place where time moved more slowly.

  Another storm brewed ahead of them, and Bullet made for it with glee. Willow realized she must like the thunder and the lightning. She was changed, just as Willow and the others were. A different beast than before. Pewter gray banks of cloud enveloped them. Willow could barely see three feet from the end of her nose. The rumble of the thunder drew closer, and the building electricity from the lightning charged the air. The clouds lit up with the glow from a distant bolt, the light turning the edges bright purple. Bullet dove through the mist as if chasing it, seeking it. Another flicker lit the clouds ahead and they plunged forward. The lightning was just ahead, Willow could see it. Almost there…

  And then, suddenly, there was something else. It glowed like the lightning but wasn’t. It was stretched in a crisscross pattern, blocking their path. Willow tried to rein in Bullet, but it was too late. Bullet screamed, shrill and high. They hit the thing hanging in the sky, and a crackle of magic jolted through them.

  Willow felt her consciousness slipping, and just before darkness took her, she saw a figure out of the corner of her eye. Someone flying without wings.

  The smell of smoke woke her up. Smoke, and the crackle of a fire.

  Willow slowly blinked her eyes open, keeping her body still. Her head throbbed like buffalo had stampeded over the top of it. Glowing ropes bound her wrists together tightly. She cast her eyes around, taking stock of her situation.

  She was lying on rich, loamy earth. A thick forest rose around her, and it was dark. The trees smelled somewhat like evergreen, but not the same as the pines back home. Felicity lay beside her, still unconscious, and on the other side of her were Dynah and Penelope, lying in a row. They were inside some sort of strange enclosure made of glowing ropes. The same material they had crashed into up in the sky. Shifting her gaze beyond their cage, she saw the horses in a separate glowing enclosure that sat perpendicular to their own. And in the convex of the two, sitting at the fire, was a cowboy.

  He sat on a log, hat tipped down over his face, poking the coals with a stick. Plaid shirt, jeans, suede chaps. Sitting next to him was some sort of strange metallic pack, and Willow remembered catching a flash of it before she passed out. It had been strapped to his back. It must have helped him fly.

  The cowboy’s knees splayed out as he leaned over the flames. Willow could see the weathered, tan skin of his hands. He leaned to the side and spit tobacco juice out the side of his mouth. As he did, she could see one half of his craggy, leathery face. A face that had seen countless hours under an unforgiving sun. And when he turned back, she saw that the other half of his face was gone: no skin, only tendon and bone where his cheek should be. She shivered.

  So, their captor wasn’t human. Not a huge surprise considering he had magical ropes and had managed to single-handedly capture the four Riders of the Apocalypse. She would have been impressed if she wasn’t so pissed off.

  She pushed herself upright, and though he didn’t look up from the fire, she could tell he saw her movement from a slight tensing in his posture.

  “You’re a long way from home, cowboy.”

  He didn’t respond, and for several long moments she thought he would ignore her entirely. And then he said, his voice gravel and coals, “I could say the same fer you.” And he spat another stream of dark liquid off into the dirt.

  “Where are we?”

  “Germany.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Bounty hunter.”

  “For?”

  “Who d’ya think?”

  “Zane.” She bit the word off, and it smoldered like the coals of the fire.

  “I don’t remember all them angel names. But somethin’ like that.”

  “Wonder why they didn’t bother finding us themselves.”

  The cowboy jabbed the fire. “I reckon they like others to do their dirty work. Most do.”

  “You must live a fascinating life,” Willow said. “Tracking down things magical and supernatural. Sounds fun. Maybe I picked the wrong job.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “So, I assume they didn’t hire you to kill us or you already would have,” she said.

  A grunt was her response.

  “So, when will they be here to pick us up?”

  “Soon ‘nuff.”

  “What’s your name?”

  Silence stretched between them. He was definitely ignoring her this time.

  Willow turned from their captor and set to waking the others. They came to in various states of alarm and grogginess. Whatever magic was in the ropes had really zapped them good. Plus, they weren’t as strong without the power of the past Riders.

  Not ten minutes later Willow heard the creak of something coming through the forest toward them. Wagon wheels. A covered wagon rolled up and stopped just inside the ring of the firelight. Two burly demons sat on the front bench. Demons working for the angels? Willow found that very intriguing. They steered a set of four black horses, their manes and tails swirls of silvery mist, their eyes red and glowing.

  The cowboy got up and approached the wagon. One of the demons handed him two sacks of something that clinked. Coins, no doubt.

  “Only two bags for the Riders of the Apocalypse?” Willow called. “You should have asked for more.”

  His gaze flicked up to hers, eyes blacker than the forest around them. “I did.” And his eyes moved to the enclosure next to theirs, where the horses were held.

  Willow felt the world tip sideways. She saw a couple more demons hop down from the back of the wagon, and all fo
ur moved toward them. Bullet snorted and pinned back her ears.

  “No,” she growled.

  The cowboy strode over to their enclosure, inserted a key into a padlock at the corner. The glowing ropes went dark and fell to the ground. Willow tried to use her magic, but the ropes at her wrists, which still glowed brightly, must have dampened it somehow. She felt nothing.

  One of the demons grabbed her by the shoulder roughly.

  “Hey!” snapped Dynah as another did the same to her.

  As the demons led them past their horses, Bullet pawed the ground and Domino thrashed around, knocking into the glowing ropes. Music and Moon whinnied and tossed their heads.

  “You are not taking our horses!” Willow screamed, pulling against the demon holding her.

  “Shut your mouth, traitor,” the demon growled, and he backhanded her in the mouth.

  Pain lanced through Willow’s jaw and her vision went fuzzy. The cowboy stepped in front of them.

  “Never hit a woman in my presence,” he said. He said it quietly, and calmly, but with a deadly fury.

  “The angels didn’t pay you for your opinion,” said one of the demons.

  “Do it again and see what happens,” said the bounty hunter.

  The demons huffed past him, but Willow could tell they weren’t eager to test him. She was shoved into the back of the wagon, her cheek colliding with the wooden floor. It was the same cheek the demon had struck, and white pain shot through her yet again.

  Felicity, Penelope, and Dynah joined her in the back, along with two of the demons. To keep them from escaping, of course. Willow heard the slap of the reins on the cart horses. The wagon began to roll through the forest, and she heard Bullet’s shrill shriek split the night.

  “You should never have crossed Heaven,” one of the demons said, a crooked grin on his face as he watched her. “That choice will bring you only agony.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Felicity asked. She seemed calm, collected. Willow just wanted to kill something.

  “To a place where you can contemplate your betrayal,” the first demon said.

  “And prepare for your unmaking,” said the second. “Though that has already begun. Because without mounts, you are Riders no longer.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Penelope

  Numbness crept along Penelope’s arms, all the way down to her fingers. She felt it inside, too, in her shallow breathing and the slow beating of her heart.

  Domino was her oldest friend, other than Willow. And even as close as she was to Willow, there were things she only told Domino: Willow wasn’t as much into sharing feelings. She remembered when she’d first gotten him. She’d been seven, and Roy had gotten him for free along with a horse he’d bought for himself.

  He’d intended it to be a slight, just as everything he had done to her was, but she’d secretly been thrilled. He was her first horse. Dynah had gotten a new horse the year before, but Penelope had been stuck riding their ancient pony, even though she was far too big for her. From the moment Penelope had set eyes on Domino, with his black and white spots, so unique and different looking, just like her, she knew she’d love him forever.

  And here they were, far, far from home. Halfway across the world and different in every possible way. He’d transformed with her magic, become the shining white mount of Pestilence. But he was still her horse, and she was his girl. Inseparable.

  Until now.

  She hated the angels then, more than she’d hated anything ever. Even Roy, and that was saying quite a lot. Her magic rose up within her, and the fury of the Riders before pressed against her, teasing, tantalizing. If she let them in, her power would grow tenfold. Possibly enough to get them out of this mess. But she also knew that each time she let them in, it was harder to push them back out again.

  If it meant getting Domino back, however, she’d do whatever it took.

  The glowing ropes at her wrists sparked, sending a shock like lightning through her arms, her heart. One of the demons glanced over at her, and his lips turned up into a smile. She wasn’t going to be able to use her magic as a Rider. Not while these things bound her.

  “Odd, isn’t it, demons working for angels?” she asked.

  “We work for the highest bidder,” the demon on the left said.

  These demons were not beautiful and human-like as were the ones at Sassafras’s camp. One had gray skin and yellow goat’s eyes, and the other was red and shiny like a beetle, with horns coming out of his forehead. Penelope wondered if there were different types, or classes, or if some merely hid their true form with magic.

  “So, if we could pay you more than the angels, you’d let us go?” Dynah asked.

  The gray demon cackled. “You couldn’t.”

  They rode in silence. Penelope was just beginning to wonder how far they had to go when the sound of the wheels changed—they were moving over stone now instead of soil. She couldn’t see anything because the wagon was covered, including a flap which hung down in the back. But a few minutes later they came to a stop and she heard the sound of heavy chains clinking, and wood groaning. Then the wagon moved forward again before stopping a short distance later. The demons yanked them out.

  A castle courtyard rose around them. Penelope had only ever read about such things in fairytales. It had seemed impossible at the time, living in her dusty wooden house in her dusty quiet town, that such a thing as a castle could exist. But here she was. She only wished it was under circumstances that would not lead to her death.

  The demons dragged them through the courtyard. Penelope caught a glimpse of high, gray walls with turrets and towers, and a bright yellow flag with an emblem of wings. And then they were inside, traveling through dim, candlelit corridors, deeper and deeper within the stone walls until it felt like she’d never see the sky again.

  It was no terrible shock when they led them down into a dungeon. They were prisoners, after all. Prisoners with a death sentence hanging over their heads. Worse than death, really. Unmaking. She shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold, damp walls surrounding her.

  The demons placed each of them in separate cells; Willow and her on one side of the corridor, Dynah and Felicity on the other. There was no furniture in the cells, nothing but impenetrable stone with metal bars across the front. A spider web hung in one corner of the cell, the only sign of life.

  When their captors left, Penelope called to the others. “Is everyone okay?”

  “I don’t think I’d call anything about this situation okay,” Dynah said.

  Her pale cheeks were streaked with tears which glistened in the light of the single torch. Beyond the glow of the light, the darkness hung thick and heavy.

  “My face hurts like hell,” Willow called from the right.

  Her cell was deepest in the dungeon, all the way at the back. Penelope couldn’t see her face, but she sounded madder than a mountain lion.

  Felicity just shook her head and went to sit down in the corner of her cell.

  “We can’t give up,” Penelope said. “We’ve got time. They have to wait six days to break the sixth seal, remember? That’s another five or so to go.”

  “They should kill us now and get it over with,” Willow growled. “Because if I do get out of here, my vengeance will be something they’ve never seen in all their saintly existence.”

  “I don’t think they can,” Felicity said quietly. “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Dynah asked.

  “I think the Riders have to be here, on earth, for the Apocalypse to continue, or at least until all the seals are broken. The point of no return.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Penelope said. “So, we just have to figure out how to break out of here.”

  “That’s a bit hard with our magic bound by these.” Willow thrust her bound wrists out between the bars of her cage. “And even if we do get out of here, we’ve lost our horses.”

  “I never thought the day would come when Willow Cavendish gave up
,” Penelope said.

  “I’m not giving up,” Willow snarled. “I’m just mad as hell and I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  Silence fell then. An hour passed. Then another. Then so many that Penelope lost count, until suddenly a bright light filled the dungeon, a light that did not come from the torch.

  Alinar tucked his wings around him as the glow faded from them. Penelope stood up and went to the front of her cell.

  “Have you come to gloat?” Willow called.

  “Not to gloat,” Alinar said, shaking his golden head. “This is all too terribly disappointing for that.” He looked around at each of them. “Why would you give up such power? Such an opportunity to rise above your mundane human existence?”

  “We happen to like humanity,” Penelope said, staring at him coldly.

  “I’m sure it stings,” Dynah said, “To hand-pick us for your plot, only to have mere humans defy you.”

  “Again, you pick the wrong word,” the angel said. He swung his lavender gaze around to each of them slowly, and it burned. “You vastly underestimate the gravity of the situation. What this means. What you’ve done.”

  His pale, beautiful face twisted with rage. The room grew tight, as if he were sucking all the air out of it. “I went out on a limb for you four. We needed something different. Too many failed attempts in the past.”

  Alinar began to pace the dungeon, hands clasped behind his back.

  “I thought that surely using humans would make the crucial difference. Who better to serve justice on humanity than those who had been harmed by it the most?” He stopped his pacing and raked his eyes over them again. “I guess why I came here, why I had to come here because it’s burning within me, is to ask, to know: why?”

  “Humanity is awful, yes,” Penelope said. “Hateful. Greedy. Cruel. But it is also beautiful at times.”

  “There is love, and kindness,” Dynah said.

  “Sometimes from the most unexpected places,” Felicity added. “From complete strangers.”