Nothing.
Work, damn you. Work!
My grandmother wailed. The magic slapped me and I rolled back across the chamber. My head swam.
I needed this to work. My son would die unless I did this.
I rolled to my hands and knees and crawled back to the body.
How could it not work? I was so sure . . . She was such a stubborn bitch, it should’ve worked.
The bones lay inert. My blood made no difference. I looked up at my grandmother. The awful gaze of Semiramis drained my soul.
“Help me.”
She kept looking at me. She had all this magic. The two of us were bathed in it and I knew that if she could have, she would’ve helped me.
I sat on the floor next to my aunt’s remains. It was over. I was done. I’d tried my best and failed.
I’d failed Curran. I’d failed my unborn son. I’d failed the Pack, the Witch Oracle, the city, everyone in it. She was my last hope. Only two options were left now: become my father’s tool like Erra did before me, or die fighting.
I would go back to Atlanta and I would fight. I would fight till my last breath, but I had already failed.
I looked at the specter of my grandmother, bent as if to cradle what was left of her daughter’s body. How terrible must it have been for her? At some point my grandmother must’ve been young and Erra must’ve been a toddler. I could almost picture them walking together through the gardens my father was trying to resurrect. Idyllic and peaceful, just a young woman and her daughter in a place full of water and bright fishes and beautiful water flowers, before the war. Before my aunt turned into a monster. Before she watched all of her children grow up and die, killed by the curse of power and magic that was our blood. I had seen my son through the curtain of time. I didn’t even know him and already I mourned him.
How in the world did it end like this, in an empty stone shell? This couldn’t be what either of them had hoped for. They must’ve wanted love and family. They must’ve wanted happiness. Instead my grandmother died after seeing her daughter become a living plague, and my aunt was never happy. She destroyed and killed in impotent fury, and a part of her must’ve realized that she was trapped by her past and her blood, and so she raged harder and harder, but she could never break free. Even in this age, she awoke and hated being herself so much, she looked for a way to die again.
Tears wet my cheeks. I pulled Sarrat out of its sheath, hugged it the way I used to do with Slayer when I was a child, and cried. I cried for my grandmother, shackled in this concrete tomb so far from home. I cried for my aunt, because I finally understood her. I cried for myself, because I hated feeling helpless and I was so fucking tired of not being able to breathe, and now all my anger was leaking out of my eyes in tears. I cried and cried, my tears falling into the blood. I had nothing left.
Nobody would see it. Nobody would care. I could cry all I wanted and nobody could call me on it.
Finally, I had run out of energy. I wiped my eyes. Time to pick myself up and move on.
My aunt’s bones glowed with ruby light.
I froze on my knees.
The loose bones of Erra’s body shifted, twisting into a round pile. Blades burst from it, stretching straight up and curving, pressed together into a bulb. The red glow flashed and turned bright. The bone blades curved and opened like the petals of a flower.
My aunt stood within the glow, clad in her blood armor. Sadness shadowed her translucent face, her dark hair falling down to her waist.
Oh dear God. It worked.
Her eyes snapped open. The Eater of Cities saw me. “You!”
She charged me and tore right through me. It was like being passed through a fine sieve made of pain and cold. She whipped around, her face shocked. The red fire around her shot out and gripped my body. My feet left the ground. I flew backward and smashed into the stone wall of the chamber. My head swam. Someone set fire to my lungs. The invisible magic hand ground me into the stone. My bones groaned under the pressure.
“You!” Erra snarled. “I should’ve killed you. I will now.”
Red circles swam before my eyes. There wasn’t enough air. I was going to die.
“I wanted to die. You couldn’t even do that right. You’ve raised me with your wailing. How dare you mourn me? Now I’ll take you with me.”
The tempest behind Erra shifted.
Her eyes widened. “Mother?”
The magic pressure vanished. I crashed to the floor, desperately sucking in air. My lungs burned and refused to expand.
The magic storm coalesced into Semiramis, standing before Erra’s translucent form. My aunt stood still, her mouth open, her expression soft.
“Ama,” Erra whispered. “Oh gods, Ama.”
The magic of Semiramis embraced her. Erra hugged her back, their power mixing. The walls around us trembled from the pressure.
Tears wet my aunt’s eyes. She looked past her mother at the bare walls. “Gods, what has he done to you . . .” she whispered. “What did he do . . .”
I finally rolled over onto my back and managed to take a breath. Everything felt bruised. Someone had turned my diaphragm into barbed wire when I wasn’t looking.
Erra loomed over me. “Talk.”
Great. I had to say the most important thing first, before she squeezed the life out of me.
“He’ll kill my son.”
“You have a son?”
“No, but I will.”
Her magic jerked me upright. If she bounced me off the wall again, I swore I would set her damn bones on fire.
“How certain are you?”
“It’s been foretold by several oracles. I have seen it in a vision. There’s a battle. He runs my baby through with a spear and hoists it up like a standard.”
She’d had sons. She’d loved them, even though they were violent and mad. She had to understand.
“And so you brought me here, into this tomb, and called me back into existence with your tears, weeping by my corpse like some weakling?”
That was my aunt for you.
“To do what?” Erra stalked in front of me, back and forth. “To kill my brother?”
I didn’t answer. It didn’t seem safe.
“Where is he now?”
“He built a castle on the edge of Atlanta, near my territory.”
“Your territory?” Erra barked a short laugh.
“I claimed Atlanta.”
She stopped and looked at me. “Claimed it how?”
“He tried to make it his, and I stopped him and made it mine.”
“How? Describe it, you imbecile.”
Screw you. “He made a giant magic spear and tried to stab me with it. I blocked it, then I levitated, and released a big pulse of magic.” I waved my arms. “Poof.”
“Poof?” Erra turned to my grandmother. “Ama, are you listening to this?”
Semiramis smiled.
“So you are Sharratum now? A queen?”
“I’m not a queen.” I had to keep reminding myself.
“And he let you do this?”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“What are the terms? There must’ve been terms.”
“He promised me peace for a hundred years and then he built a castle on the edge of my territory. He’s taunting me, kidnapping my people, meddling, wanting to control every aspect of my life, getting offended over my wedding reception, sending assassins to . . .”
Erra raised her hand.
I shut up.
“How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About six months.”
“He’s been sitting by your territory for six months and hasn’t moved against you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re ly
ing.”
“Why the hell would I lie?”
My aunt pondered and flicked her hand. An invisible magic hammer crashed into me. This time I curled before hitting the wall. Bonus points.
“You say you claimed this city. Prove it.”
I rolled to my feet.
“My land. My city,” Erra mocked. “Little baby princess. Pretender. Weakling.”
“Stop mocking me or you’ll regret it.”
The magic swept me off my feet. I rolled across the chamber. “You own nothing. You possess nothing.”
I got up to my feet.
“Liar.” She was getting ready for round three. I felt the magic shift. “Imposter. You bring shame to our name.”
“Enough!” I let my own power tear out of me and smash into my aunt’s. “I’ve fought and bled for that city. It’s mine and I have nothing to prove to you. You and my father brought enough shame to the family name. People cringe when they hear it. If you hit me one more time, I’ll throw your bones in the deepest sewer I can find.”
Erra’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take your land and rule it as it was meant to be ruled.”
“No! It’s mine!”
“There it is,” Erra said. “Do you even know what this thing is that’s rearing its ugly head? Of course, you don’t.”
I opened my mouth.
“Quiet. I’m thinking.”
This was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.
Erra sighed. “It’s called the Shar. It’s an ancient word that came to us from an old language. A word of Adam. It means the right to rule. The urge to obtain and hold land was bred into our family. Do you know why dynasties fall?”
“Because they eventually produce an incompetent heir.”
“Yes. The Shar is the insurance that the strongest of our line is always in power. Once you have a taste of it, either it will devour you or you will triumph over it.”
“Is my father . . .”
“Consumed by the Shar? He was for a time, but he learned to control it long ago. It is a force within him, it does drive some of his behavior, but there were times he walked away from the land he claimed and stayed away for years. Im is a prince of Shinar. He received proper instruction in the use of his gift as soon as he was able to understand words. But you have very little defense against it. For one, you’re too young. You claimed too soon and too much. Second, you have no training. A child should be allowed to claim a small piece of land to become accustomed to the pressure. And third, the Shar is at its peak when two members of our family hold adjacent land. It is its very purpose: to force us against each other until a winner emerges victorious. This is why I chose to make no claim. I had no desire to rule.”
“And my father . . .”
“Your father is cruel. He’s torturing you. Sooner or later the Shar will drive you to move against him. All he has to do is wait, and he has all the time in the world.”
“But why go to the trouble? If he wanted war, why not break the treaty? Nothing stops him.”
“He’s given you his word,” Erra said. “The word of Sharrum is binding. It’s the bedrock of his kingdom. The real question is why go through the charade of the agreement in the first place. It makes no sense . . .” She paused. Her eyes shone. “Why should I help you?”
“You are my aunt.”
“And?”
“Look around you,” I told her.
“What about it?”
“It’s the tomb of our family.”
My aunt turned slowly, taking in the bare walls.
“My father, your brother, brought your mother here, because he was afraid she would rise and challenge him. He locked her in this stone box so he could control her. Do you know where we are? We’re in the heart of Mishmar.”
Her face jerked. She’d recognized the name.
“He’s using my grandmother’s power to fuel it. She suffers. He knows this and does nothing. To him we’re tools to be used.”
The line of her mouth hardened. I’d hit a nerve.
“Why did you want to die?”
Derision twisted her face.
“Tell me, City Eater. Why did you want to die?”
“Because this wasn’t my world,” she snarled. “There is nothing for me here.”
“It’s not his world either. If he isn’t stopped, he’ll be the last of our line, because I’ll fight to my death to protect the man I love and my future child. He’ll destroy me, and after I’m gone, he’ll murder my baby. Even if he takes the child and lets him grow, sooner or later he’ll kill him, because my father can’t stand to share even an iota of power. Ask yourself why none of your children survived. Why none of his? It’s because he is a creature who eats his young. Our family has no future. He has devoured it.”
Her face was completely flat.
“Sooner or later all of us will end up here, and he won’t stop until he chokes the life out of the rest of the land. He’ll turn this world into a copy of the old one, until it too collapses under his weight, and the cycle will begin anew. Ten thousand years from now, when you’ve been awakened for the third time, and another girl stands in my place asking for your help, will you ask her why?”
I couldn’t tell if any of it sank in.
“Look at it.” I raised my hands, indicating the stone box we stood in. “Just look at it.”
Magic flared. The image of my grandmother vanished and an inferno of pale purple light blazed in her place, bleeding magic. Erra’s translucent form melted into it. I raised my hand to shield my eyes. Magic raged around me, boiling and twisting.
Silence stretched.
“Good speech,” Erra said from somewhere within the inferno.
“It’s not—”
“What else do you have?”
What else? I grappled with the question, trying to think of something—anything—to convince her.
“He’s rebuilding the Water Gardens.”
“What about it?”
“He told me you used to love them. You used to play there together. That you had a happy childhood.”
“And?”
“Take my memories. I know you can do it, because my grandmother has done it. Look into my head. See the childhood my father has given me.”
The light splayed out and licked me, seizing me into a tight, hard fist. Pain seared my mind, pulling me apart, as if my soul were fabric and it was unraveling thread by thread. I let it hurt me and melted into it, giving up everything, all my memories, all my fears, and all of my dreams.
• • •
THE SUN WAS warm on my face. Such a hot welcoming sun. A shallow pond lay before me, only ankle deep, a jewel cradled in the green hands of proud cypresses. Small fishes darted through the clear water, golden and white sparks against the turquoise bottom. In the middle of it a pavilion of pink stone rose with a domed roof, no walls, only four arches. A delicate mosaic of colored tiles lined the ceiling, showing the sun, the planets, and the stars, as if a Persian carpet of incredible beauty had been stretched across it. A dark-haired woman sat on the steps of the pavilion, her feet in the water, her blood-red dress floating on the surface of the pond. She beckoned.
I stepped into the pond and walked to her. The turquoise stones felt smooth under my feet. My white dress floated, swirling in the water.
The woman patted a step next to her. She was so beautiful, my aunt.
I sat. She reached for my hair. It was long again, the way I liked to have it. She ran her hands through the brown strands, pulled out a tortoiseshell comb, and gently brushed it.
I saw our reflection in the water. The girl in the white dress had my face but she seemed so young and pretty. Soft, like she had never opened another human being with her blade and let their blood flow on the sands of the pits. Someone had brushed gold on my eyelids. Someone had lined my eyes with black.
Someone had put a delicate gold chain around my neck with a red stone full of fire.
Was it really me?
My aunt put a white flower into my hair. “This is what you were meant to be,” she said. “The princess of Shinar. Not a mongrel without family. Not some man’s attack dog. Not the mindless weapon I saw in your memories. You didn’t know about it, your father kept it from you, but it is yours.
“Is this what it looked like? The Water Gardens?”
“Yes.”
I could stay here forever. It was so peaceful here.
“This was my favorite place. I wanted to bring my daughters here the way my mother brought me,” my aunt said, her dark eyes soft like velvet. “The war destroyed everything you see and I never had any daughters. He rebuilt the gardens, but they weren’t the same. It was never the same. All gone now. The splendor of Shinar is dust. We are all that remains.”
“I don’t want it to disappear.”
“It must,” she said. “It lives only in my heart. Now it will live in yours.”
I turned to look at her. The pavilion was gone. I sat in a room. Gauzy red curtains blocked my view, and in the gap beyond them I saw a trellised balcony. A sticky dark puddle slowly spread on the floor, inching toward my feet. I had seen too many puddles exactly like this. The smell hit me, hot and metallic. An awful crunching sound came from somewhere beyond the veils of red gauze.
“What is this?”
“You wanted to share,” my aunt said. “You showed me yours. I’ll show you mine.”
I drew the curtain aside. The sound got louder, a sickening, chewing, slurping sound.
I pulled the last curtain aside. A bed strewn with a child’s toys and colorful pillows. A thing glared at me from the floor. Hairless, gray, awful, with huge owl eyes and bloodstained teeth. It clutched a child’s headless corpse in its front limbs. It stared at me and chewed.
“This is the way your uncle died,” my aunt said. “Also two of your aunts.”
I lunged forward. The thing shrieked, dragging the child’s body with it. I chased it. I had to kill it.
“They came from the sea,” Erra said. “You won’t find their names chiseled into any stone. We obliterated them and their memory. We erased them from existence. They had attacked the kingdoms like a plague, bringing their magic and their creations like that thing you’re trying too hard to kill.”