The Triad of Finity (18 page)

“Then it shall be,” said Sebastian. He gripped the chains that held the Codex and tore them apart. As the chains snapped, breaking the spell of eternal existence that was given in exchange for servitude, the Codex crumbled to ash.

Phlox returned with the vacuum. She efficiently plugged it in, fired it up and swept over the stone tile floors, everyone watching silently, their thoughts lost in the hum.

“Oliver.” Phlox indicated the coffee table and the chair, having him move each. She changed nozzles and cleaned the crevices around the chair cushions. Satisfied, she turned off the machine. “Now then, Lythia, how long will this frozen time sphere remain active?”

“I made it for an hour,” Lythia replied. “I figured it would take us awhile to plant the false memory enchantments in Mr. Crevlyn’s head, so he’d never know what happened, but … well, we’ve got most of that time back now, I guess.”

Phlox nodded. “Good. If I work fast, that’s just enough time for dinner.”

“But, Mom,” said Oliver. “We have to go! We only have two days to get to Amchitka, and once Half-Light finds out about Mr. Crevlyn, not to mention that we’re gone, they’re going to throw everything they have after us and—”

“All the more reason to have a full stomachs,” she said, quickly wrapping the vacuum cord back up.

Was she crazy? “Mom, no! We need to get—”

“Oliver!” Phlox’s eyes flared turquoise, and her voice grew quiet and lethal. “We are going to sit down and have dinner, and that is the end of it.”

“You heard your mother,” echoed Sebastian.

Oliver wanted to scream. How could she be this irrational? Except … maybe he understood. Because maybe Phlox was thinking, like he was, that this might be it: their last time in this house, their last time together.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Good.” Phlox’s eyes cooled. “Now, kids, Oliver can show you where to find the dishes to set the table. Sebastian, take drink orders. I just happen to have a double chocolate angel food cake in the freezer, and I believe there’s some Scotch bonnet peppers in the pantry; I can whip up a quick sauce.”

Everyone started to move, and no one questioned the idea, or really spoke. Ten minutes later, the Nocturnes, Dean, Emalie and Lythia were seated at the dining room table. Sebastian turned down the magmalights to a nice orange glow, and turned the radio to KBYT, which was playing a late movement of the Melancholia.

Oliver and Lythia drank panda blood, one of Oliver’s all-time favorites, and the rarest variety they had in the fridge. Dean thought it was too tangy, and opted for basic pig. Phlox and Sebastian had their customary goblets of human blood. Emalie had a Coke.

“Oof,” Emalie winced at her first bite of the cake dipped in sauce. “That is the spiciest thing I’ve ever had.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

“You should try these,” said Dean as he cracked open a frozen gila monster head and began sucking out the insides.

Emalie scowled at him. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks. Still tasting that Reaper beetle’s guts.”

“Well,” said Phlox, dabbing her magenta lips with a bone-white napkin, “I have to say, that was an impressive plan you executed down there, kids, despite the—” she glanced at Emalie with an ever-so-slight expression of disapproval—“ending. Either way, I was really proud of you all.”

“Thanks, Mom,” said Oliver.

“Delicious food, honey,” said Sebastian.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Nocturne,” said Lythia, “after we save the world, my mom totally needs to take some lessons from you.”

“That’s sweet, Lythia. It would be nice to see more of your family. All those years at Half-Light and I feel like we barely got to know them. This prophecy was always a source of tension between us.”

A silence passed over the group.

“Hey, did you guys catch if the Seahawks won?” asked Dean. “They were playing a Saturday night game.”

Everyone just looked at him.

Dean smiled. “Right, I’m the only zombie here. Never mind. I’m just thinking, if it was their last game ever, I hope they went out on a high note.”

Silence again.

Forks scraped on plates. Cups raised and clicked back onto the table.

“I put on coffee,” said Sebastian, standing. “Anyone want some?”

Everyone nodded.

“Sebastian, use the Ming china,” Phlox called after him.

“Do I—” he began, but then caught Phlox’s eye and nodded. “Okay.”

He returned with a steel carafe and a tray of exquisite china coffee cups, ornately decorated with curving, intertwined dragons. He poured cups and passed them around, followed by a bowl of sugar cubes and a habañero pepper grinder.

“I’ll pass,” said Emalie, handing the shaker to Dean.

Oliver went to sip his coffee and noticed that his hand was shaking. His whole body felt tight, like he was tied with invisible rope. He looked around at his family and friends—well, and Lythia—and felt another rushing round of that tightness like when he was entering the house. All this: Could it really be about to end?

A final silence passed between them.

Oliver met Phlox’s eyes. Her gaze was deadly serious. “Okay,” she said. “Now that we’ve eaten … what’s next?”

“We’ll need an initial diversion,” said Sebastian. “Something to confuse Half-Light. Then, we need transport out of town.”

“Charions?” suggested Oliver.

Sebastian shook his head. “We’d never get down to the station and onto a train in time.”

“Airplane?” asked Dean.

“We’d need advance planning, space in cargo to avoid the sun … and again, there won’t be time.”

“How about a submarine?” asked Lythia.

Phlox gazed at her. “You have a submarine?”

“Not personally, but the Legion does.”

Phlox turned to Sebastian. “Didn’t you drive subs briefly in World War II?”

“Not exactly,” said Sebastian, “I manned sonar, but I could—”

A hissing sound cut him off.

“Ooh,” said Lythia, gazing around. The blue tint was fading from the walls. “I think the enchantment is finishing early. I had to estimate.”

The blue winked out. Immediately, there was vicious banging from below, at the sewer door. It grew fierce, and there were sharp splintering noises as the heavy wood began to crack.

“So much for our head start,” said Sebastian. “Crevlyn must have had a security enchantment that would alert them if he was harmed.”

“Well then,” Phlox said again. She looked at the table, not at the guests, but at the plates and cups, it seemed, and sighed. Oliver thought he saw the shine of a tear in the corner of her eye, though that was impossible. …

Sebastian reached over and grasped her hand.

Phlox nodded, as if checking off a moment in her mind.

A vicious cracking sounded from below. The door was giving way.

“Honey,” said Phlox quietly, still gazing into the table. “Get the battle axes from the hall closet.”

Sebastian slipped out of his chair.

Phlox looked up. “Everyone else, head upstairs.” She reached up and began tying back her hair. “Oliver, the reflector umbrellas are in the wall recess by the surface door.” She stood. “We’ll meet you outside.”

“Mom, we—”

“I know you want to help,” said Phlox, standing. Sebastian leaned in from the kitchen and tossed her a burly, medieval horseman’s axe. Phlox caught it in one hand. “But your father and I have been sitting on the sidelines for too long. Let us get our hands dirty.” She almost seemed to smile, then she turned and raced toward the sound of the collapsing door.

Oliver looked around the table. “Let’s go.”

They rushed out of the dining room, across the kitchen, up the stairs—and for just a moment, Oliver looked back at the kitchen, the dinner dishes piled by the sink. He had the weirdest thought: wanting to stop and clean them, make everything look just right, the way it had every night of his childhood, the way it should look every night forever—

“Come on.” Emalie tugged his arm.

The sounds of clanging metal and hissing screeches at their backs, Oliver followed Emalie, Dean and Lythia up the stairs to the surface door. He pushed aside what appeared to be just another loose board and grabbed four specially coated black umbrellas for repelling the daylight. He handed them to Lythia and pressed the red button to open the door. He kicked the old refrigerator out of the way, sending it flying across the room and smashing into the standing mirror. Just before impact, Oliver saw the round impression of the spot that Emalie had once cleared in the decades old grime. The mirror exploded.

They vaulted the false hole and hurried out the front door, down the spiderweb-laced walkway, the overgrown blackberry vines clutching at their legs.

Out in the street, Oliver popped open an umbrella. The sky was hazy with misting clouds, but bright enough to make his eyes hurt.

“What happened?” Braiden Lang emerged from behind nearby cars, along with two of his Brotherhood soldiers.

“Company,” said Lythia. She nodded at Emalie. “ ‘Loose cannon’ here dusted Mr. Crevlyn.” She actually sounded impressed as she said it.

Oliver watched the still house. He could hear the sounds of a fight beneath the surface. Loud thumps, the smashing of furniture, walls … then silence.

Footsteps.

Shadows by the door … Phlox and Sebastian emerged, their faces dusted with ash, axes over their shoulders. Sebastian had his long coat on, and now paused to hold out Phlox’s. He took her axe and she slipped her arms through and took back her weapon. They walked down the path and joined Oliver and his friends in the street. Oliver handed them an umbrella.

The rain began to intensify, pattering on the street.

“How’d it go?” Oliver asked.

“That was refreshing,” said Phlox. She wiped ash from her eyelids and turned back to gaze at the warped, dilapidated house, its windows boarded, its sides consumed by blackberry and overgrown rhododendrons. Oliver stepped beside her. She slipped her arm around him. “It was good,” said Phlox quietly. “A good house. A good time, all in all.”

Oliver nodded, but couldn’t get any words out.

Something screeched from above. Oliver looked up to see a crow circling above them.

“That’s probably a sentry,” said Braiden.

“We should move,” said Sebastian. “Where is this submarine?”

“It’s at my dad’s yacht,” said Lythia.

“Okay, then let’s—”

But Oliver cut him off. “No,” he said, because if Half-Light had already come after them at the house … they’d never make it across town and onto a submarine, never mind across the ocean and on from there. Half-Light had too many resources. There was only one way to do this. The tight feeling had become overwhelming. “Dad, Mom, you—you can’t come.”

“Oliver,” said Phlox, “what are you—”

“If you come with us, you’ll be left behind when Illisius summons us. You need to go with the Legion to Nexia.”

“But what about you?” Phlox asked.

Oliver hadn’t gotten very far with what to do next, but now it occurred to him. “Dexires,” he said. He turned to Emalie. She was already digging into her bag for the Architects’ mirror. “The Architects can send us to Amchitka,” said Oliver. “They’re the only ones with the power to transport us quickly. You guys can hide out with the Legion, plan the attack on Half-Light, and the three of us—”

“Two,” said Dean. Oliver turned to find him shrugging. “Think it through, man,” he said, “I’m not getting summoned to the Gate. If I want to fight, I have to go with the Legion, too.” He didn’t look happy about it. “Stay with you and I’ll just get left behind.”

“He’s right,” said Emalie. “We can stay in touch through our tattoos,” she said, touching her wrist, “Like we did for the Darkling Ball.”

Oliver looked at Dean. He didn’t like it, but knew he was right. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lythia, “I’ll take good care of my minion.”

Dean kicked at the pavement. “This will give me time, too, to go by my house. Let my parents know that they won’t need the axes under their beds anymore …” He looked up, almost like he’d been caught thinking something he shouldn’t. “Well, at least for a few nights.”

“What are you talking about?” Emalie asked.

“Nothing,” Oliver said to Emalie, but he nodded at Dean, trying to say that he understood, and to say, somehow, that he was sorry, sorry it had come to this, that Dean was in this position to begin with, sorry about everything … all the way back to the beginning.

“Don’t sweat it,” said Dean, as if he knew what Oliver was thinking. “If I wasn’t like this,” he moved his hands to indicate his zombie self, “I’d just be waking up right now like it was any other Sunday. So … get going. It’s really going to be a bummer if you don’t save the world.”

“Right,” said Oliver.

“See you soon, cuz.” Emalie moved toward Dean, arms out.

“Ahh,” said Dean, looking at his oozing arms, “watch out for my—”

“I don’t care.” Emalie hugged him tight.

“Oliver.” He found his parents beside him. “Be careful,” said Phlox. “Be in touch through Dean. Find out what the Triad is and … we—” Phlox grimaced. “We’re sorry. This prophecy, we …”

“It’s okay,” Oliver whispered, and threw his arms around them both at once, burying his head between them. He smelled Sebastian’s after-shave, the lavender hair gloss Phlox used … His parents, not by blood, but the ones who knew him. They may have made him a vampire with a terrible destiny, but they’d also raised him, protected him in the best way they knew how.

“We love you,” said Sebastian quietly.

Oliver pulled away, biting his lip hard, and nodded in response. Then, fighting the heaviness inside with what felt like all the effort he had left, he turned away.

Emalie held up the Architect’s mirror and gazed into the deep blur of bobbing lights within its diamond border.

“Here they come!” Braiden was pointing skyward. A flock of crows and owls were swooping over the rooftops.

Screeching sounds behind them—three black luxury cars with tinted windows careened around the corner, speeding toward them, water spraying from their tires.

“Get out of here!” Oliver shouted at the rest of them. “I’m the one they want!”

Phlox, Sebastian, Dean, Lythia, Braiden and his team ran into the yards across the street.