Beyond Paradise

Stroud's lips twisted in a cruel smile as he watched Mischa's shoulders shuddering. The beautiful, pure sound still lilted on the air, and shaped the notes of the most melancholy of tunes that Billie had ever heard. Then, with one casual motion of his hand, Stroud muted the strings, and silence fell over the square in a suffocating pall.

"Stand up, you foolish man," he snarled at the crumpled form at his feet. "You had to know I would find her someday. And you allow this--this boy to flaunt her power right in front of my eyes, thinking I would not see?" He shook his head in a mockery of sympathy. "A tragic mistake, and one for which you will suffer a heavy penalty."

He lifted the guitar high over his head and brought it whistling down with both hands. The curved blue edge struck the front of the stage, and with a resounding crack it splintered like so much dry firewood. The fretboard wrenched away from the body, strings popping with a discordant twang and curling out like springs.

The scream was piercing, a gut-wrenching agony of pain that made Snot bolt in terror underneath the stage. Across the square, hands flew to ears, trying to drown the wail of suffering that came from the shattered instrument, and Mischa stared in utter horror, tears streaming down his stubbly cheeks. The sneer that spread across Stroud's face was too much for him to bear.

"Bastard!" he bellowed. "Spawn of the devil! I vill end you for this!" Scrambling to his feet, he ran headlong at Stroud's midsection, his clean-shaved scalp butting hard against the taller man's belly. He wrapped beefy arms around Stroud's waist, trying to throw him to the ground, grunting and straining. Curses and spittle flew from his lips, and every vein on his neck was bulging dangerously as he grappled for purchase, but even his massive body lacked the strength to bring the man down.

"Stop this!" Stroud commanded, and suddenly Mischa dropped as though he had been stunned, falling to the ground with a heavy thud as screams erupted through the audience. Odette flew to his side, sinking to her knees to lay her hands on his temples, and Billie could smell the heavy scent of copper and salt rising from the still figure as she whispered almost soundlessly over him. Tabib was threading his way through the crowd toward them, and Billie recognized the vial of oil he clutched in his hand.

Jabril, now behind Stroud's back, made a quick slicing motion to Sabil, who leapt smoothly onto the stage. Fowler sprinted around the side, behind Billie, and hissed at him to get his attention.

"Come on--we have to get you out of here!" he mouthed. Billie glanced over his shoulder at Stroud, who bent over Mischa's motionless body, a triumphant sneer on his face. How could he leave them to the mercy of this monster, the ones who had risked their lives to help him? He realized there was little chance he was ever going to leave this place alive, but he wouldn't go down a coward, running away while they sacrificed themselves for him.

Fowler gestured frantically, his eyes flashing warning. "Billie, there's no time! You've got to come with me now!"

The calm that settled through him, into the bones and ligaments, the muscles and tendons of his body, was as cool as a hand from the grave. He turned slowly toward Fowler, his green eyes unspeakably sad, and shook his head.

The boy's jaw sagged, and he held out his hands in an appeal to Billie's sanity. "You don't understand! He won't just kill you! Please let me help you!"

A low, guttural growl made Billie turn away from Fowler again. Stroud had risen, and Odette's tiny, birdlike sobs were the only sound that could be heard above the rustling of the leaves that hung, now black and withered, from the branches. But where was the breeze that stirred them? The sound swelled slowly, a gathering buzz that sounded like--

Sabil had crouched, the bulging muscles of his thighs bunched against the fabric of his pants, his golden eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. Suddenly a thunderous roar erupted from his throat, and he sprang from the edge of the stage, his arms and legs outstretched as his body catapulted through the air toward Stroud. Razor sharp claws had unsheathed at the tips of his fingers, and his snarling mouth revealed fearsome canines that glistened under the stage lights.

He hit Stroud's body like a wall of fury, fangs and claws flashing. There was a mighty thud as they collided, and the man staggered forward a few steps before regaining his balance. Sabil buried his face into the slender neck, and for one surreal moment, Billie thought it might all be over.

But the hissing sound was all around them now, and the twinkling stars had disappeared behind a blackness that was deeper than death itself. Desperately, Fowler vaulted onto the stage and grabbed Billie's arm, dragging him off the stage and toward the street as he searched the sky. Aden sprinted up beside them, and together they fled down the street toward the alley where they had taken shelter inside the dumpster. Behind them, a furious roar of pain and anger echoed across the cobblestones, but there was no time to look back.

As they turned the corner, Billie froze.

Between them and the safety of the metal bin huddled the black, leathery bodies of a half dozen Zeileter, their round, skeletal mouths lined with deadly needles. As the boys quickly took stock, several more landed ghostlike behind them, and they could barely make out the silhouettes of perhaps twenty others ranged along the rooftops of the buildings around them.

Snot had left his hiding place under the stage platform and stood growling between Billie and Fowler, but the trembling of his skinny body put the lie to his show of bravery. Aden took a tenuous step toward the creatures, and the vicious jaws yawned in voiceless shrieks, but their numbers were greater, and they did not retreat.

Aden looked at Fowler grimly, his eyes questioning.

"It's the only chance we've got," Fowler said between his teeth. "Do it."

Aden lifted his trembling hands toward the vile things edging ever closer, and closed his eyes.

"Down!" Fowler cried as he yanked Billie to the ground. "And cover your face!"

Instinctively, Billie snaked an arm out to pull Snot to him, and the terrified dog huddled against his ribs, whining pitifully. As he buried his head in the crook of his other elbow, a massive roar shook the ground beneath his belly, and a wave of unimaginable heat swept over them like some blast furnace from hell. All around them Billie could hear the screeching of the Zieleter, and the flapping of huge wings fanning the searing air over his head. He didn't dare look up.

It felt as though the earth had fallen away from him. Sharp claws raked the skin of his back, catching in his clothing, and suddenly he was soaring through the blistering hot air, dangling helplessly from the talons of one of the hideous monsters. His throat was on fire, his lungs searing agony inside his chest, desperate for air that would kill him if he breathed it.

He struggled to hold his breath, his pulse pounding in his ears, but it was no good, he was going to explode. It felt as thought his eyeballs were melting beneath his lids, the hair singed from his temples and brows. To give in would be to fill his chest with molten lava, but dear God, he needed air so badly...

This is it, he thought. I can't hold on any more. I love you, Adie. Take good care of my boys, baby. I tried, I tried so hard...