Page 65 of Court of Shadows
“Blood and thunder,” Mr. Morningside swore, diving toward me and taking my arm. “What are you trying to do, Louisa?”
“Unhand my daughter,” Father said, so softly and surely that I almost could not hear him. But all had gone quiet, for everyone wanted to hear what he would say. Under that curiosity I sensed a rising fear, and I noticed more than one person in the crowd begin to edge toward us, preparing to run for the portal.
“You were defeated.” The shepherd’s voice shook with emotion, his angels gathering around him. “Your kingdom sleeps eternal.”
“Does it?” Father laughed, taking the flour sack and the book within it and hoisting it over his head. “Night fades, slumber breaks, and now those you betrayed are waking up. My daughter is one such child, one of mine, the first and last children, and she has brought me a magnificent gift.” His gaze fell on Mr. Morningside, who had not taken his hand from my elbow and was, in fact, squeezing it hard enough to bruise. “I smell your fear, Lier-In-Wait; remove yourself from my daughter or I will tear this book in half before your very eyes.”
Mr. Morningside released my arm, taking one giant step away. I heard his noisy swallow of fear and looked to him, lip quivering with shame.
“That’s not possible!” Chijioke rushed forward from thecrowd. His face was pained, his red eyes filling with moisture. “Louisa!”
“Do it, you old bastard,” Mr. Morningside jeered. “You lack the courage.”
Now the crowd broke in earnest, screams rending the air as I was pushed this way and that, the onlookers running for the way out. An empty no-man’s-land appeared before Father, a swath of carpet that no one dared to tread.
“Defend us, defend us all!” the shepherd shouted, and his Adjudicators sprang to life, each of them gliding above us on massive white wings, their golden bodies almost blinding as they charged.
“How could you do this to us?” Chijioke begged, snatching up my hand and shaking me. “How?”
“Peace, good man.” Mr. Morningside had waded back toward us through the sea of bodies streaming toward the portal. He slapped Chijioke on the shoulder and gave me a wink. “You underestimate our dear Louisa.”
“She betrayed us,” Chijioke thundered, and it tore at my heart.
“Did she?” Mr. Morningside, holding his shoulder, turned him back toward Father and the melee ensuing.
The angels descended on him, golden arms rippling, reshaping into scythes and shields. They amassed before him, preparing to dive, shining weapons held high. Father seemed to grow larger, bolder, the swirling dark mist around him gathering like smoky armor. Sparrow gave a mighty cry and swoopeddown toward him, scythe slashing. He smashed his arm through her golden shield, shards of bright metal showering the last of the crowd to flee. They screamed as she did, though her cries were loudest, Father’s talons ripping across her throat as he grabbed her by the neck, then tossed her across the pavilion. She slammed into the pole nearest us, shaking the ground and the tent, her limp body sliding to the ground in a heap.
“No!” The shepherd vaulted off the stage and ran to her. He lifted her head and she moaned.
Finch was the next to give his shout of battle and charge Father, and I stumbled toward them, not wishing harm upon someone who had been so kind to me. But he was joined at once by Big Earl, whose hand had become a lance. He landed a glancing blow before Father knocked them both across the pavilion and over our heads.
Chijioke made as if to run in and fight with them, and I grabbed the back of his red coat, yanking him away. “Don’t, it isn’t worth it!”
“The book!” he cried. “We must get it back!”
“You dare send your fledglings after me,” Father shouted, taking up the bag again and brandishing it like a dagger. “You will pay, you will pay what you owe, the blood of those you love, the blood of your people, the very foundations of your kingdoms will shiver before they fall!”
Chijioke ducked as if to shield himself as Father gave an ugly laugh, pulling the flour sack away and tossing it over hisshoulder. He held up the book, black, slimy, decorated with the crossed eye, and those left dazed and watching and recovering in the tent gasped. Even Mr. Morningside went rigid at my side, but then the charm faded. My Changeling powers could not withstand the potency of the pavilion, which revealed all things in their true form.
“Ooh.” Mr. Morningside stood up, nodding approvingly. Father’s face fell; he must have felt the weight of the book shift and its size adjust, for it was not the black book, it was nothing of consequence at all. “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,” the Devil teased. “Is that from my library? Good choice.”
The book was hurled into the air, aimed directly at me. I had no time to dodge, and it hit me squarely in the gut. I doubled over with a grunt, Chijioke wrapping his arm around me in support.
“I thought you were a real shit for a moment there,” he said with a relieved laugh. “Another work of art, that.”
“Don’t gloat just yet,” I wheezed. “I had half a mind to turn on Henry, and Father is still an ancient god....”
Yes, he was, and we soon learned the consequences of it. Roots exploded through the bottom of the tent, wrapping around our calves and ankles, bolting us to the ground. Father was coming toward us, stalking across the pavilion with his claws flashing and at the ready.
“You ungrateful, faithless deceiver!” he bellowed. His voice filled the entire tent, shaking it, his wrath terrible as the rootsbegan to pull, taking us slowly into the churned earth. He would suffocate us, I thought, but my fate would surely be worse. I had believed him when he told me he was weak, and now I would pay the price for my trust. Chijioke struggled against the roots beside me. I reached into my apron, pulling out the spoon and bending it to my will. If only I could turn it into a knife for just a second, just long enough to cut free of these roots... But it was no use. The pavilion was fighting me, keeping me from even the most basic transformation.
Even Mr. Morningside was powerless against the pull of the earth. I could see him trying to blink forward, but when he managed it, another root lashed out, taking hold.
Father was upon us, his cloak of mist and leaves billowing out around him. His black-and-red eyes were only for me, the ugly skull face twisting into a hideous smile.
“You were going to kill me all along!” I screamed, defiant. “Now’s your big chance!”
“Yes, foolish child, and I will relish it....”
