All That Lives Must Die

little white lie.

He exhaled. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Sorry about that. The truth between us would be best.”

Jezebel’s eyebrows flicked up. Her glare eased a notch and she was silent a moment.

“No,” she said, turned, and headed for the gate. “I believe that it would be best if there were nothing between us.” She didn’t say this cruelly, but as if it broke her heart.

Eliot watched her leave.

He should drop this and let her go. How much clearer could she be on what she wanted?

But that wasn’t the issue. It wasn’t what she wanted that he needed to know; he had to know how she felt about him.

Eliot followed after her to the gate.

Jezebel walked faster. . but then they both had to stop.

Harlan Dells, as ever, stood at the gate. He looked them both over with that microscopically penetrating gaze that made Eliot feel naked and helpless.

“Hey, Mr. Dells,” Eliot said.

Jezebel curtsied, lowered her eyes, and said, “Hail, Keeper of the Gates.”

Mr. Dells smoothed his tasseled beard, then turned and gazed into the alley.

“Something wrong?” Jezebel asked.

“The shadows a moment ago,” Mr. Dells replied. “Just a flicker. Half a wavelength. A trick of the fog and light. . perhaps.” He turned back to them, his face clouded. “Take care to walk the straight and narrow on the way home today, children.”

Eliot wasn’t sure what that was all about, but he replied, “Yes, sir.”

Harlan Dells opened the gate and watched them pass.

“Look. .,” Eliot said, trying to keep up with Jezebel.

She ignored him and trotted ahead.

He knew it was rude, and he knew she could probably knock his head off if she wanted to, but he had to talk to her. Eliot reached out and touched her hand.

The effect was immediate.

She whirled on him, the hand he had touched curled into a clawed strike.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “For everything. And I mean everything. How you got involved with the Infernals. How I should have figured it all out in Del Sombra and done something more to help. And how you gave up your freedom for me, and had to go back. . to Hell.”

Jezebel’s mouth dropped open. “How can you be such a fool?” she breathed.

“Fiona asks the same thing,” he said. “Maybe I am a fool to want to help you. I know you’re part of some plot involving me. But that doesn’t matter. We had something real in Del Sombra. My song for you didn’t come from nowhere. I could never have composed that on the spot for you if there hadn’t been a connection between us.”

“There was no connection,” she whispered.

Eliot sensed that lie.

And she knew that he knew, too.

“I can help you.” Eliot held out his hand.

She looked at him and then at his proffered hand.

Jezebel slowly turned away and continued down the alley. “You understand nothing.”

Although the alley had been full of students just a second ago, it was empty now. . which was fine, because Eliot wanted to be alone with Jezebel.

Still, it was strange. Where’d everyone go?

He walked alongside her, and this time she let him.

Jezebel kept her head lowered, not looking at him, and edged closer until their shoulders almost touched.

“This is not a game with the Infernal clans,” she said. “My Queen is at war with Mephistopheles. Only one side will survive. Help me and you become his enemy. He will destroy you.” In the tiniest whisper, she added: “I cannot let that happen.”

“None of that matters,” he told her.

That fire that had been inside him before rekindled through his body, burning away his fear and doubt.

He spoke in a deeper voice: “It matters not if all the demons in Hell, every angel in Heaven, or the gods themselves stand between you and me. Nothing will keep us apart.” The heat inside Eliot cooled-but it had been there. It was real. His Immortal side. . or his Infernal blood surfacing?

He felt the old connection between him and Julie-like the day he had played her her song, when she had poured her soul into his.

Overhead, however, electrical lines hummed, and Eliot felt vertigo. . like he was in a falling elevator. . a sensation not unlike the first time he and Fiona had found the sideways passage into this alley.

He looked about.

They were still in the alley-but it was wrong.

He and Jezebel stood in a deserted side passage off the main thoroughfare. Eliot hadn’t seen this before.

And he sure didn’t recall turning down it.

Jezebel whirled around. “A trap!”

She glared at Eliot, angry, then took her eyes off him and searched the passage. . whose entrance now turned away at a right angle. . an angle that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The shadows in the alley grew longer.

The buildings leaned toward one another, limiting how much light filtered down. It was as if the space around them was as pliable as molding clay.

“See?” Jezebel said. “I told you! They’ve come for me. Run-while you can.”

He reached into his pack, flipped open his violin case, and grabbed Lady Dawn. Eliot set bow to strings, and the air stilled.

“I’m sticking with you,” he told her.

“I cannot believe how stubborn. .,” she muttered under her breath, gritting her teeth until they ground out the rest of her words.

They were no longer alone. Eliot could feel the presence in the shadows surrounding them.

A dozen black eyes stared from the dark-pulling themselves from the flat dimensionless shadow planes.

These things had long limbs that terminated into chitinous points. Where they touched brick and asphalt, they left gouges and sounded like a herd of cats running over blackboards. Their heads were smooth and tapered and split open to reveal a grin of countless shark teeth.

Jezebel faced them. Her hands up in a fighting stance, she stepped next to Eliot so they stood back to back.

“Droogan-dors,” she whispered. “Do not let them pierce you. Their poison turns flesh into smoke.”

For a heartbeat, Eliot froze, wanted to do nothing but run-but there was no way he was leaving Jezebel to fight alone.

He played the first thing that sprang into his mind, the “The March of the Suicide Queen.” He jumped to a part about a third of the way into the piece-allegro-bowing until his fingers blurred-the battle charge: it spoke of horses racing toward the enemy line, knights with lances leveled-impacting upon the enemy and breaking bodies, splintering wood, shattering bone, trampling deeper into the fray.

In his mind he heard those soldiers sing:

We shall never show mercy

We shall ask no quarter.

We spill rivers of blood

Gallop through blade and mortar.

Hoofbeats echoed off the alley walls. The dust stirred and white ghost horses appeared with headless riders charging at a full gallop-passed through Eliot and Jezebel-but solidly tramped over the nearest creatures.

The Droogan-dors went down, stabbing the phantom horses and knights.