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“We’re almost there,” Maguire said, “almost done. All you have to do is say that you accept the Beekeeper’s magic.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes, then take the blade and run it across each of your palms. Gently. It’s very sharp, and we won’t need too much blood. Just a few drops. The cut is the opening through which her magic is gonna come into you. And the blood will seal the deal. You just make sure some of it gets on the lowest point of the star, there. Yep,” he said as her eyes fell to the ground, “that one there, right next to your foot. One hand on those two points where the lines intersect. That’s all I need from you. That’s it. You do that, and you can get on with patching up that fellow of yours. My son and I will get on out of here. You’ll never see hide nor hair of either of us again.”
In the distance she heard Guy cry out in agony, warning her that if she wanted to save her son’s father, the time for hesitation was over. She traced the blade across her left palm, wincing as the slightest pressure did indeed open a deep gash. Trembling, she repeated the action again with her right palm. I accept the power, she thought as she dropped the sword to the ground and knelt beside it. “I accept the power,” she spoke the same words aloud again, unsure whether she actually had to say them, or if thinking them was enough. She felt no change. No change at all.
“It has to come from your heart, girl,” Maguire called to her. “You have to want this in your heart. And you should, ’cause I promise you, if you don’t make this work, none of you are gonna walk away from this. I will take that sword and hack that boy of yours in half myself.”
I accept the power, Jilo thought, but this time the words were neither a statement of fact, nor a simple affirmation. They were a plea. A prayer to any force that could come and help her save the children, heal Guy, and free them all from these monsters. A sound like the buzzing of a thousand bees rose up around her.
An electromagnetic surge slammed her upper body to the ground. It took a few moments, but she managed to push up to her hands, gasping as she caught sight of them. A blue fire, like the hottest gas flame, covered them, yet she felt no pain. The fire, she realized, was not consuming her as she feared it might, but instead was emanating from her, racing out and tracing along the design carved into the earth, setting the whole thing alight. It spilled out from her, shooting out in both directions, clockwise and counterclockwise, traveling along the intersecting lines that made up the star, then setting fire to the circle at its center. As the liquid flames traced through the earth, she was filled with an odd sense that somehow she’d experienced this before. But no, she realized, she had never witnessed such an event. The energy flowing through her had given her that sense. The power. It remembered.
She felt the power’s memory of her nana, and her nana’s mama, too. And a terrified girl, much younger even than herself, cringing and crying as the power took her over, just as it was now filling Jilo. Through this girl’s eyes, she looked up at a face very much like Maguire’s. This girl, she realized, was her nana’s own grandmother. And then the image faded. Jilo wondered just how many more generations this nightmare might reach back.
The energy rose up and spilled into the infinity sign that both linked and separated the men. Then, without warning, Thomas began screaming, a tortured, agonized cry. Jilo looked up to see his twisted face—mouth open wide, eyes round and full of fear. He was shaking wildly, steadied only by his father’s hand. Jilo looked on, unable to break free of the energy that held her. “Run, Willy, run,” she began screaming. She hoped that he heard her, that he obeyed, but she couldn’t even turn her head, frozen in place by the power linking her to these two men.
The shaking that seemed ready to rip Thomas apart lessened, but then transmitted itself from son into father. Now Maguire was the one who was screaming, with even greater volume and at a higher pitch than the son had done. Thomas now nearly glowed with a look of satisfaction, seeming to take no small pleasure in his father’s agony. Jilo watched in amazement as Thomas raised the pistol his father had handed him and put a bullet between his father’s eyes.
The fire fell away, draining from the earth, releasing Jilo with such force, it knocked her backward. “That’s my girl,” Thomas said, but somehow Jilo knew the man addressing her was not the son, but the father, looking out through the son’s eyes. Her eyes jumped to the gun, but he dropped the revolver onto the ground. He drew near, reaching out to offer a hand to help her stand.
She shook her head and crawled backward to get away from him, stopping only when she realized that she did, in fact, need his help. “What do I do?” She pushed herself up and ran to where Guy lay. “What do I do?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
“Just lay your hands on him. Will the magic into him. Will the Beekeeper to heal him. Her magic is now a part of you.”
She fell to her knees, positioning both hands on Guy’s chest, calling to the Beekeeper, praying to God. She had moved beyond any certainty about how this world worked. If there was a chance there was a God, she sure as hell wasn’t too proud to plead for mercy—at least not on Guy’s behalf. She looked down at Guy, but his chest was no longer moving. She placed her finger against his neck. There was no pulse. “You help me,” she screamed, calling out to the power she felt flowing through her. The same strange blue fire flooded out from her, enveloping Guy, lifting him several inches off the ground. But he remained still, unbreathing.
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked back to see the veiled one, the Beekeeper, standing behind her. “It’s too late for that one. He belongs to my boy now,” the Beekeeper said. “You want this one back, you’re gonna have to make a deal with the Red King.”
“Yes. Yes,” she cried without giving the consequences a single thought. “Anything. I agree. What do I do? Just tell me.”
“You’ll have to take his mark.”
“Okay, I agree. I’ll take his mark.”
“But it’s not as easy as all that,” a deeper voice spoke. The odd man wearing the top hat appeared before her. “I don’t give up those I’ve won without a substitute.”
“A life for a life, dearie,” the Beekeeper said. “A life for a life.”
Jilo’s eyes shot up to where Maguire—now in Thomas’s body—stood before her. “Yes,” she said, “I can honor that deal.” Maguire began backing away, shock and terror filling his eyes as it dawned on him for the first time how quickly, after hundreds of years, the balance of power could shift.
Jilo released Guy from the web of energy she had woven around him, his body drifting to the ground like a descending leaf. She raised her hands toward Maguire. The flames, a beautiful cerulean, began to change, purplish and indigo bruises rising up in them. As their color shifted to the deep blue of midnight, they grew sharp, forming themselves into tiny daggers, barbed candles that seemed to swallow the light around them rather than add to it. She was ready to strike, ready to consume this foolish monster with the fire, but a shot rang out. Maguire’s hand went up to his chest, then he slumped over onto the ground.
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Her head jerked to the side. She was astounded to see Tinker standing there, Maguire’s own revolver in his hand. Tinker’s temple was bruised and swollen, but he was alive. And Maguire lay dead, the thirsty gray soil swallowing his life’s blood. “I heard what you said about that mark,” Tinker said, dropping the gun and drawing near the Red King. “I think it should be mine.”
“And so it is,” the Red King grasped Tinker’s wrist, encircling it with his thumb and middle finger. Jilo could smell the charring of flesh as the Red King burned his mark into Tinker’s skin, but Tinker didn’t flinch. He just stood there, focused on her, as if the mere sight of her was all he needed to carry him through the pain. She knew in that moment that it was not some silly infatuation this man held for her. He loved her. Plain and simple.
The Red King released Tinker, and Tinker crossed to where Guy’s body lay.
“How do I do this?” he asked the Red King.
“You only have to want it. Are you sure you do?”
“She wants it,” Tinker replied. “That’s enough.”
“Then it is done.”
