My mother and my father
And all those before me
Their story was written
In the blood that is mine
When they thought it was safe, they stopped in a sheltered thicket to rest. The others settled down gladly though cautiously, and let their backpacks fall to the ground. A water bottle and a packet of biscuits soon passed from person to person. Further from the group, Sean sat purposefully in front of Nicholas, and Sarah joined them.
“Right. Time to answer some questions, Nicholas.” Sean always said his name like it was a curse, or an insult.
“What questions?” He crossed his long legs in front of him. His face was still scarred from when his skin had ripped open during the brain fury, the torture his father inflicted on those he wished to punish, the fire in the brain that caused terrible pain and even death, but the marks were fading, now light pink on white. Once again he was only wearing a T-shirt, his tolerance threshold against the cold a lot higher than any of them. Sean noticed Nicholas had lost a lot of weight, but the muscles in his arms still flexed at every move. His strength was beyond natural.
“Well, I have quite a few, I suppose. Mainly about your father.”
“Sure. I’ll tell you all there is to know.” It was a lie, of course, but Nicholas was a good liar.
“Can he hear you while you talk to us? Will he know what you’re saying?”
“Not if I shut him out.”
Sean paused for a moment, still studying his face. His eyes were perfectly black, like a raven’s wing. They would not reveal his secrets.
“Nicholas. If you’re lying to us I’ll rip you apart. I swear,” Sarah said in a low, menacing voice. She’d been quiet until then, listening intently. Sean gazed at her. Once again he considered how much she had changed. Ruthless, was the way he could have described her sometimes, but it frightened him. When they’d first met he’d thought that what she was going through was like taking a rose and dipping it in steel, and he now saw that he’d been right.
A rose made of steel, and tempered in tears.
“What does your father look like?” Sean asked. “How will we know it’s him?”
“It’s difficult to explain if you’ve never seen him.” Nicholas paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
“Try us,” said Sarah.
“My father’s form is not always fixed. It changes. He can take different shapes, and sometimes all of them at once.”
Sean frowned. “How can we hurt something as powerful as that? There must be a way. You must know of his weaknesses.”
“There is only one way to kill him. One weak spot. Everybody has one, don’t they?”
Sean said nothing, but his eyes went instinctively to Nicholas’ throat, where the blood was pulsing beneath the skin. Yes, everybody has a weak spot.
“My father is a spirit, his life force permanently confined in one place, this place. But he can will his spirit to become different shapes.”
“As in, real shapes? Physical shapes?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. His power is such that he can make these shapes tangible, becoming a physical body, more or less. Say he decides to be a bull. Then his horns can gut a bear in an instant.”
Sarah’s eyes widened at the mention of horns. What monster awaited them? She met Sean’s gaze and for a moment, they shared the same fear.
“When he takes the form of lava, he burns. He does have a physical presence. And in the middle of it sits his essence. His soul, whatever you want to call it. That’s where we can hurt him. And only when he stops changing form, when his shape is definite, even just for a few moments, that’s when he’s weakest and it’s best to strike.”
“Are you talking blades or Secret powers, or what? Can you stab the King of Shadows?” Sean sniggered. “Just like that?”
“Yes. You can stab him or pierce him with an arrow, and you can use Secret powers on him. If these are enough to actually kill him, I don’t know, but they can certainly hurt him. His weakest point is between the eyes. Strike there. But first we need to get through the Guardians around his dwelling. They are part of his Valaya in the Shadow World, and they are more frightening and fiercer than any demon you’ve seen yet. Some will attack our bodies, some our minds.”
“Our minds?” Sean asked.
“Psychic attacks. Ever experienced one?”
Sean’s heart skipped a beat. He had. In Japan. And he didn’t want to recall it. He said nothing. “We need to try our utmost to stay together and face the King of Shadows together. It might be that a blade or an arrow or our own individual powers . . . and skills,” he corrected himself quickly, “are not enough.”
Sarah nodded. “All of us together will have more of a chance than any of us individually,” she repeated, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but a terrible memory ran through her mind: the battle of the Mermen on Islay. Back then, it had been impossible to stay together. What were the chances of them being able to now? The vision of one of them – maybe herself, or Sean, or Niall, or Elodie – standing alone in front of the King of Shadows cut her mind, and she was afraid.