Winter's Blade (Lobby)
Emmeline stood up abruptly. Her heels cli-click cli-clicked across the polished black granite floor, echoes emphasizing the emptiness of the cavernous lobby. Alex watched her hips snap with every step, her movements those of an uneasy predator. The shredded sheen of her stockings betrayed a harrowing night of tested limits. Reflections of halogen spotlights slithered over the perfect gloss of her blood-red coat like sparks in a flame. Alex wondered how much longer her flame could burn so brightly.
This brave, amazing woman had faced numerous trials in the past hours, somehow emerging stronger each time, but now it seemed as if the simple act of waiting would unravel her.
She looked at the elevators, then out at the street, then back to the elevators. A stylish analog clock embedded in the wall above the elevators showed about three minutes to midnight.
"Why aren't they here?" she asked.
"It's not time yet."
"Two minutes? It takes longer than that to cross the street."
"He's probably in the building already."
Em started toward the elevators. She stopped halfway, just past the pair of massive round columns, hands on her hips, staring at the elevator lights as if they'd just insulted her. "How do we know I'm not supposed to meet him in his office, or on the roof, or in the basement?"
Alex leaned back on the long bench, thumping his head against the wall. "I'm sure your grandfather would have told you that."
"How do you know he didn't? Maybe he did and I just wasn't paying attention."
"Em, stop it."
"He told me to bring the axe to this address by 23:59, and not to tell Grams. But I *did* tell her. Maybe that changed things, ruined the ceremony or something. Maybe that's why they didn't want me to try to get the axe back, because they knew it was already too late. Maybe that's why nobody's coming."
"Em, that doesn't make any sense. How could that matter? And what were you supposed to do?"
Em whirled around. "I don't know, Alex, that's the problem! I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" She threw up her hands. "I'm not ready for this! I should know what to do but I don't! It's my family, it's my *legacy*, and I pushed it away, and now it's too late!" She waved angrily toward the clock.
"It's *not* too late. You don't even know if anything's supposed to happen at midnight -- all he told you was to be here, and you're here." Emmeline was anxious for something to happen; Alex's anxiety was that she might get her wish. "You went through more than anyone expected you to, and you're still here."
Em started toward Alex. "And what good does that do if I don't know what to do next? Granddad told me all those stories for a reason." She spun back toward the front door. "There's something I'm supposed to remember, something I'm supposed to do." She stopped and looked at Alex. "You remember what Chester said -- they figured out a way to keep the... *beast* from Crossing. Something I'm supposed to do, with *that*." She gestured toward the axe, which leaned up against the edge of the bench just a few inches from Alex's right hand. And then she was off again, back toward the elevator. "Something Granddad taught me, something he *had* to teach me, something he would have expected me to remember, or else he wouldn't have sent me. Something I *should* have learned, something I *should* remember..." She spun around; she was officially pacing now, and it was wearing Alex out. "But all I can think of is running around playing stupid games, pretending to rip out people's souls or chop their heads off. That and that stupid phrase about blades and blood, which I've been fucking *chanting* in my head for the last *hour* thinking maybe if I say it out loud something's going to happen."
"So go ahead," Alex said, stopped her in her tracks. "It can't hurt."
Em rolled her eyes and looked toward the ceiling, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."
She lowered her head, staring out at the street. Her voice was a bored sing-song. "By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."
She whirled around, glaring at the clock.
This time it was loud, with an angry edge. "By Winter's hand the blade is brought; it is our blood that binds."
She put her hands on her hips, and turned to Alex. "You hear that?"
Alex craned his neck; he didn't hear anything. "What?"
"Exactly!" She threw up her hands again. "I'm standing here in the middle of the night chanting some phrase my Granddad taught me like it's some magic incantation! If anybody else was here they'd think I was crazy!"
He tried to sound as serious and comforting as possible. "I'm here and I don't think you're crazy."
"Exactly! It's crazy because it's *not* crazy!" She made a beeline for him again. This time she made it, and she stood over him. He looked up. "What'd Jovie call them, Play-Doh People?" He nodded. "Little monsters without eyes made out of I-don't-know-what running around killing people? There *is* no crazy after that!" She stomped her foot at that; it sounded like a small pistol shot. "Granddad told me a thousand stories about all kinds of wild stuff, and I'm supposed to dig through all that and know what to do?" He could hear exhausted desperation creeping into her voice.
He took her hand in his. "Well, do you remember any stories like this?"
She pulled it away. "They're *all* like this!" She turned around, stepping away.
"I mean, about Ku'Laws, about stopping it from coming, or..." Or how to kill it.
"I don't know, Alex, I can't think straight. It was a long time ago, I was just a kid, and sometimes I'd get scared... I was just a kid..."
Alex rose and came up behind her. He put his hand on her shoulder; she flinched. She was wound up so tight... and he couldn't blame her. But he forced himself to sound calm. "Your Granddad told you to be here, and he told you someone would meet you. If there was something else you had to do he would have told you. He knew you didn't want to be a part of this; he wouldn't expect you to remember something from when you were little." He leaned down, resting his chin on her shoulder; his arm circled her waist. He felt her stiffen a moment, but then relax. "This was important to him. *You* were important to him. He wouldn't have sent you here unprepared. If he said someone's going to meet you, then someone's going to meet you."
She turned around, her eyes searching his. "What if it's Granddad who's supposed to meet me? Or my dad?"
"But Chester said it was a Smith."
She looked down, then away. "He also said he didn't know anything about the ceremony; no one but Granddad did." Her eyes came back up, wide with fear. "And even if Chester's right, what if the elves got to them?"
"I don't know," Alex said, turning away. "I don't know what's supposed to happen, or what's gonna happen. Maybe nothing" -- he turned back toward her -- "maybe just you bringing the axe here is all it takes. Think about it: 'By Winter's hand the blade is brought.'"
"That's not the part that worries me."
Alex finished the phrase. "'It is your blood that binds.' That could mean that you being here, your blood, that's what keeps the hole or whatever from being opened."
Em looked like she was considering the possibility, but... "Why an axe, then?"
Alex reached for her sliver of hope and grabbed it. "It's probably just a symbol. Or maybe there's something special about the metal, it's some kind of conduit." Em raised an eyebrow. Alex shrugged. "Like you said, after fighting off a horde of eyeless elves with a box of cookies, there is no crazy."
Putting it that way made Em smile. "That was pretty wild." She chuckled. "You know, I've never actually had a macaroon."
Alex looked out to the street. "We'll get some for breakfast." There had to be a bakery around here somewhere; they'd probably be open in a few hours.
"That doesn't really seem like breakfast." The panicked edge was gone from her voice; she stepped up next to him and took his hand, looking out the windows with him. The street was deserted. "You think we'll have to stay here all night?"
Alex opened his mouth to answer, but a strange rumbling beneath his feet interrupted. The sensation grew; Em gave him a worried look, and gripped his hand more tightly. Earthquake? The rumbling grew, rattling the glass doors, and then seemed to move, behind them...
They turned around, watching as the elevator doors began to shudder, and then
Boom.
It sounded like explosion deep beneath them.
Boom.
Or a battering ram.
BOOM.
The doors rattled that time; dust fell from joints in the ceiling.
"I know what you're thinking," Alex said, trying to contain his fear.
"What?" Em managed.
"Why oh why didn't I take the *blue* pill?"
BOOM.
"Alex..." Em said slowly, her hand unclenching from his, "...get the axe..."
*BANG*!
The left-side elevator doors bulged. Alex saw Em jump. He grabbed the axe, carrying it across his chest as he ran back to where Em stood.
*BANG*!
The doors crinkled and separated slightly.
Alex stepped in front of Em. But she reached around him, placing a trembling hand on the handle, just beneath the head. "By *Winter's* hand," she said, stepping up next to him and pulling the axe to her.
Suddenly the doors blasted forward, tumbling and skidding to either side. There was no elevator car, just an empty shaft shrouded in shadow. Two broad gray gnarled hands reached out and grabbed the walls to either side of the open elevator shaft. Then something pulled itself out of the shadows, a lowered head between massive cloaked shoulders.
Boom.
Three long leathery toes stretched forward and then curled, striated black nails scraping at the granite floor.
Boom.
The other foot slammed to the floor ahead of the first; the shoulders seemed to broaden, at least five feet across now as they began to rise, and rise, creases in the torso smoothing as the thing stood, shoulders at least eight feet tall. Finally it raised its head, a thick scarred wedge with a single sharp ridge from forehead to chin. The ridge cracked crossways as the beast lowered its jaw and drew in breath, slow and deep and elemental, like a desert storm.
And then it opened its eyes -- two sunken orbs, black as oil, with narrow slits that reflected brilliant flickering orange, as if filled with the very flames of Hell.