The Last Scarecrow

24 | Golden Queen

The plan had failed. Erin knew it.

Everything that they had fought for was gone. What was next? Were the mannequins going to tie them to chairs and tables and boot them off the side of The Crystal Tower? Or perhaps they were going to enslave them? Turn Jack into kindling? Make an example of the once Blue King? Haul Twelve up from wherever she was at the bottom of the ocean and hang her from The Scrapers as a warning to passers-by?

Erin's gaze fell on the golden skinned, black-eyed mannequin.

Something rumbled in her stomach. Something other than fear or anger or frustration. Her legs kicked the ground as she propelled herself forward, arms flailing, fists clenched. This was hate— seething, vengeful, morbid hate.

But she made it no more than six feet before she was lifted into the air by mannequins wearing balaclavas and high-vis body warmers.

"I'll kill you!" Erin screamed. And she meant it with every fibre of her body. She'd destroy Harunara. Take her apart, one piece at a time, and personally sail her dismembered parts to the four corners of The Endless Blue. "I'll kill you all!" she screamed again, shaking wildly beneath the mannequin's grip like a tortured puppet.

Harunara was laughing.

Hopping down from the top of the destroyed elevator shaft, the golden mannequin stalked over. She ran a cold, wet hand down Erin's face.

"No, my child," she said softly. "It is you who will be destroyed."

Erin snorted.

"Where's Twelve? What did you do to her?"

Harunara fussed with a busted elbow joint, snapping it back into place. "The one with the ridiculous head and concrete shoes?" she said casually. "You don't need to concern yourself with her anymore."

Erin struggled again, her strength fading. Pain throbbed in her head, through her tightening jaw, her clenched fists. Taking a long breath, Erin tried to relax. Her skin tingled as blood returned to her fingers.

"Take them to my Courtroom," Harunara ordered. "I'm sure they'll enjoy seeing the coronation of The Golden Queen before being sacrificed in my honour!"

Erin was dropped to the ground.

Every last ounce of energy seemed to evaporate.

The mannequins grabbed Erin again, dragging her by the dungaree straps towards the stairwell.

"And these two," Harunara barked, flicking a wrist towards Jack and Marshall.

But only a handful of mannequins moved.

"What's wrong with you? Seize them!"

Erin stared at the other mannequins as her plimsoles scraped against the roof, the fire extinguished rattling against her spine.

Something was wrong.

These mannequins were— different.

For the most part, they were all naked, not wearing jackets and hats and make-up and jewellery like those that had lined the Court of The Blue King. They stood in pools of water that dripped from their shiny bodies, coated in shells and barnacles.

A shot of hope spiked in her chest. "The Non-Believers," she whispered.

In the blink of an eye, they turned on The Golden Queen, reducing her mannequins to nothing more than spare parts. Thin tendrils of dark light spiralled out of each as arms and legs and mannequin heads were ripped from torsos and dumped unceremoniously at the feet of their Queen.