by E. E. Holmes
“Follow her! Follow her, everyone! Now!” I cried, crossing the room and pulling Hannah up from the chaise as I passed her.
“Why? What’s happening?” she gasped.
“Wait, what? Are we leaving? Now?” Milo asked.
Celeste hesitated. “Jessica, we can’t follow her if she’s—”
“She’s the last Sentinel!” I cried, no longer bothering to keep my voice down. “She’s headed for the Geatgrima! This is it, we won’t get another chance! Now, come on!”
Questions were flying at the back of my head, but I didn’t stop to answer them as I pelted full speed out the door, following the trailing hem of Marguerite’s cloak which was now whipping out of sight around the door frame.
By the grace of God, the corridor outside her room was deserted, for Marguerite was being neither cautious, nor observant. She looked neither right nor left before setting off with more purpose and confidence than she had ever shown while in possession of her faculties. She lifted the tapestry at the end of the hall and slipped through it, leaving the rest of us to fumble our way through as it swung closed again behind her.
We slipped down a maze of dark, narrow corridors, similar to the ones that we had taken from the dungeons. I allowed myself a temporary moment of relief—even though she was in the thrall of the Geatgrima now, at least Marguerite seemed to be keeping to obscure back passages to arrive at her destination. Perhaps the Geatgrima itself knew how crucial it was for its new Sentinel to reach her goal—perhaps it felt the inevitability of its own demise without her. The passages seemed to go on for miles—sloping downward, rising in spiraled staircases, connecting through portraits and bookcases and once, through a fireplace that spun in place to reveal a small office that led to yet another dank corridor. Marguerite seemed unaffected by the speed of our trip through the forgotten bowels of the castle. She plowed relentlessly on even as we stumbled and panted in her wake, unable to catch our breath as we tripped along in the gloomy half-darkness. Ileana was falling further and further behind, with Annabelle struggling to pull her along, but I knew that if we didn’t reach the courtyard soon, we would be unable to keep pace.
Just then, Marguerite burst through a tapestry in front of us and we were all dazzled by the sudden brightness. We had arrived not in another secret servants’ passage, but a wide octagonal room filled with exotic plants surrounded by floor to ceiling windows and skylights—a conservatory of sorts. Through the glass doors, I could see the Geatgrima looming up out of the star-strewn courtyard beyond. We’d made it.
But we were no longer alone. A half-dozen spirits within the conservatory turned at the sound of our arrival and bore down upon us, blank expressions intent on our capture. A volley of shouts from our left alerted us that three Caomhnóir had also spotted us, and had begun a mad dash toward us from an adjoining greenhouse.
A whoosh of raw energy blew past me from behind, and all at once the spirits froze in midair, mere feet from us. I whipped around to see Hannah, eyes bright like stars, her hand outstretched, holding the spirits at bay with the sheer force of her gift. Whatever control Simone had over them, Hannah’s Calling had shattered it as easily as glass. Without speaking a word aloud, she flung her hand in the direction of the approaching Caomhnóir sending the spirits like projectiles toward the men, who did not even have time to shout before they were knocked back off their feet and flung against the far wall by the spirits. They slid down to the ground where they lay in a crumpled heap, unmoving.
“Holy shit!” Milo cursed under his breath before breaking into a hysterical laugh. Having dispatched the approaching Caomhnóir, the spirits floated back toward Hannah and hung in midair, evidently awaiting her next command.
Hannah shook her head as though to clear it and stared over at me, her expression slightly frightened. “That was almost too easy. They… they have no will at all. No power of their own,” she gasped.
“Jess! Come on! It’s Marguerite!” Finn’s voice called out, and I spun back around to see that Marguerite had not waited for the spirits to be subdued, but had run straight through the conservatory doors and out into the courtyard. I could see her blonde hair streaming out behind her like the tail of a comet as she raced to answer the Geatgrima’s summons at last.
We all ran after her, the spirits trailing along behind Hannah like the obedient minions they now were. But we’d barely made it halfway across the courtyard when Marguerite reached the dais, threw back the hood of her cloak, and opened her arms in a triumphant gesture of welcome. Like a bolt of lightning, the power of the Gateway crackled from her fingertips, seeped from the tendrils of hair blowing around her face, bled across the dais from the tips of her toes, crawled and roiled and drifted from every part of her like a living thing toward the Geatgrima, which likewise seemed to be reaching for Marguerite, drawing her in to an ancient embrace.
As we all looked on in horror, several more Caomhnóir entered the courtyard from the far side. One of them, realizing that it was Marguerite upon the dais, gave a shout and ran forward.
“No! Don’t! You mustn’t touch her!” I shrieked, but I was too late. The man leapt up the steps of the dais and grabbed ahold of Marguerite’s arm, clearly preparing to pull her back from the Geatgrima. Instead, he was catapulted into the air in a shower of sparks. His body slammed into a pillar and crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll.
The other Caomhnóir, at least, had learned from their colleague’s mistake. They paced the perimeter of the dais warily, calling orders to each other, clearly at a loss for what to do.
“Fetch the High Priestess!” one of them shouted at last, and two of his fellows hightailed it in the direction of the main entrance.
The remaining Caomhnóir seemed to realize at the same moment that a group of escaped prisoners were also in the courtyard, and started for us, but Hannah sent the spirits pelting at them. The men gave cries of alarm and tried to fend the spirits off, but to no avail. Before they could so much as reach for their Casting bags, the spirits had soared directly into their bodies and taken them over like marionettes. At Hannah’s command, the Caomhnóir threw their weapons and Casting bags aside, dropped to the ground, and lay motionless with their hands on the backs of their heads like hostages. Catriona and Finn hurried forward and collected the weaponry, arming themselves before tossing knives, Casting bags, and staves to the rest of us. I caught the knife Catriona sent my way and stared blankly down at it before handing it off to Ileana, who grinned at me and spun it deftly in her hand before tucking it into her belt. She would clearly be handier with the thing than I would ever be. I took an extra Casting bag with relief and tied it around my waist.
Milo shouted, “The keys, Jess! Get to the Geatgrima and see if you can—”
But before I could so much as reach for the keys around my neck, the courtyard flooded with people. Simone, a contingent of her Guardians, and several more spirits burst through a door on the far side. With her blonde hair streaming out behind her and her face alive with fury, Simone might have been a goddess of mythology, come to smite us all with nothing but the power of her gaze. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so simultaneously enthralled and terrified in all my life. But before she could speak even a word to us, Simone spotted her sister upon the dais and let out a choked cry of horror.
“Marguerite! No! What… what have you done to her?” Simone wailed, clutching at her hair, a Boticellian vision of despair leapt off a canvas to life.
“If you want to blame someone for what’s happened to Marguerite, blame yourself,” I replied, surprised to find I could both find my voice and command it. “You could have stopped this, but you chose not to. She’s the last of the Sentinels now, and there’s nothing anyone can do to help her unless we restore the Gateways.”
“You lie, Jessica Ballard!” Simone shrieked, pointing a violently trembling finger at me. Then she swung around and pointed the same finger at the nearest Caomhnóir, the one who had gone to fetch her. “You, there! Guardian! Remove my sister fr
om the dais!”
The Caomhnóir turned around to look at his fallen comrade before bowing low to address Simone. “My sincerest apologies, High Priestess, but I cannot do as you ask.”
Simone’s face went utterly still. “What did you say to me?”
The Caomhnóir seemed to quake where he stood, but still, he did not move to comply with Simone’s command. He swallowed hard and spoke again. “One of our Brotherhood has already tried to do as you request. He… he is there, High Priestess.” He pointed to the corner of the courtyard where the Caomhnóir still lay unconscious, whether living or dead, it was impossible to tell.
“I… said… remove… her,” Simone said, her voice a low and deadly hiss.
Clearly petrified to continue defying her, the young Caomhnóir shook his shoulders back and approached the dais. With much more hesitancy than his brother-in-arms, he set one foot upon the stone and reached slowly out to touch just the sleeve of Marguerite’s robe. The effect was instantaneous. With a shriek, he was blasted backward, sent skittering away across the lawn, slammed into a wall and moved no more.
Simone let out a wail of frustration and rounded on the line of Caomhnóir, pointing at each of them in turn. “You! All of you! Rescue my sister! Remove her from the dais at once! I command you!”
But the Caomhnóir did not move. They had watched two of their comrades sacrifice themselves for nothing, and they were not willing to do the same.
“High Priestess, please. There must be another way to try to—” one of them began, but the rest of his plea was drowned in Simone’s scream of rage. She turned to the nearest spirits, a pair of men who appeared to have once been gardeners. “You! Take over the Caomhnóir! Remove my sister from the dais at once.”
Obediently, the spirits flew toward the Caomhnóir who braced himself for impact, but then, just as suddenly, they halted, motionless in the air, as though someone had hit the pause button. Simone stared around wildly and spotted Hannah, hand upraised, hair blowing around her face in the current of her power.
“What is the meaning of this?” she cried.
“If you’re going to detain and lock up Durupinen so that you can betray the spirit world, you should probably make sure that one of them isn’t the most powerful Caller in the world,” I replied.
Simone’s eyes went wide. She looked back at the spirits again. “Take over the Caomhnóir!” she screamed, looking quite mad in her frustration. “Do it! I command you!”
“They don’t answer to you anymore!” Celeste said, stepping forward. “Your days of commanding them, of bleeding them dry, are over.”
“Do you dare to question my authority?” Simone asked, an incredulous smile on her face.
“I dare question any Durupinen who puts her own selfish desires before the good of the spirits she has sworn to protect,” Celeste replied. “And all those I stand with do the same.”
“All those you stand with?” Simone said with a maniacal laugh. “What, this motley crew of misfits? This pathetic band of rebels you’ve cobbled together from the dregs of our world? You can’t be serious.”
Ileana stepped forward now. “This motley crew is not all you need to worry about, Simone.” She threw back her head and gave a loud, shrieking caw, and at once, with a swish of glossy wings, her raven detached itself from the night and sailed down to land upon her shoulder. She pulled a tiny scroll from his leg and read it, a smile breaking over her features. “My winged friend informs me that the full might of the Traveler and Northern Clans approach your borders even now, and that they will shortly be joined by the combined forces of every clan who can reach the mountains by dawn. More resistance will be upon you every hour thereafter, as news of your treachery spreads to our sisterhood around the world.”
My heart leapt. Was it really possible? I caught Finn’s eye, and I saw him swell with pride. Beside him, Celeste showed no sign of surprise at the news that the Northern Clans were on their way. Could this have been what she and Ileana had been discussing together by the fireplace in Marguerite’s room? I turned to Ileana and grinned at her, resolving to take back every snarky thing I ever said about that ridiculous messenger raven. If we got out of this alive, I would throw my cell phone through the fucking Gateway and communicate by nothing but birds for the rest of my life.
“Then we will smite them,” Simone said, still laughing, still drunk with her own power. “My Caomhnóir are the most formidable fighting force in the Durupinen world. Let the rabble come and face their destruction. You there!” she shouted to the scarred Caomhnóir who had rescued us at the outpost. “Ring the alarm bell. Call the full might of my men here to me. I will give them their orders.”
The Caomhnóir turned on his heel and jogged from the courtyard. Within a minute, a great echoing peal of bells resounded all around us, filling the mountains with cacophonous music. Before the echoes had a chance to die away, Charlie Parker, flanked by two dozen Necromancers, entered the courtyard. He approached Simone to stand beside her, greeting her with a respectful bow that was nonetheless full of irony.
“Well, well, what shenanigans have you gotten us into now, Jessica?” Charlie asked, his tone light but his teeth clenched. He took in the sight of Marguerite upon the dais, and I thought I saw a flash of panic in his eyes.
“For once in my life, I can’t take credit for the shenanigans, Charlie,” I replied. I felt more than saw Finn take a step toward Charlie, and I raised an arm to stop him. I flashed him a look that quite clearly said, “Back off. I’ve got this.” Finn nodded and stepped back.
“You seem to have a talent for weaseling your way out of tight situations,” Charlie said. “How is it you managed to escape the dungeons?”
“None of us would have, if Marguerite hadn’t helped us,” I said.
The angry flush in Simone’s face drained away, leaving her complexion chalky. “Marguerite? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am. She released all of us from our cells, and then she hid us in her own chambers until it was safe to leave. She planned to bring us here to the Geatgrima, to find the counter-Casting but… the Geatgrima had other plans.”
“She wouldn’t. She… she couldn’t…” Simone gasped. She stared up at her sister as though she had never seen her before, as though a stranger now stood before her wearing her sister’s visage.
“She could and she did,” I replied. “But even then, she didn’t believe she was defying you. She believed she was protecting you. You see, she didn’t believe that you could ever be so misguided, so selfish, as to betray the Durupinen like this. I only hope she can’t hear what we’re saying now, because the truth would break her heart.”
“Marguerite is a fool,” Simone said, her voice breaking as tears gathered in her eyes. “So much power at her fingertips, and she never once reached for it. She should have come to me. I would have made her see reason.”
“She was already seeing reason,” I replied. “You’re the one who’s been blinded.”
A low rumble of stomping feet alerted us all to the fact that the Caomhnóir were on the march and approaching the courtyard. They filed in from all directions, encircling the space five rows deep, weapons at the ready. I could feel our entire group tense and pull together protectively against a threat we knew we could never actually defend ourselves from. I heard Hannah’s breath catch in her throat. I followed her gaze and saw that Kiernan and Seamus had been brought up as well, their hands bound behind their backs.
Simone’s army came to a halt. She gazed around at them, a look of deep satisfaction on her face—a face that, for all its beauty, looked suddenly sinister. “So, Jessica Ballard. You’ve had your fleeting moment of victory. You somehow managed to turn my sister against me and make your way to this place. You’ve even managed to take control of a few of my spirit servants. I admit I would have thought it all impossible. But this is where the tables turn. Regardless of who waits beyond my walls, they will be defeated. The Sentinels have made their sacrifice—the Geatgrimas remain op
en, and we maintain our control of the Gateways. With the Necromancers’ resources and the knowledge gained from their experiments, we will be able to take charge of the Gateways as never before in our long and storied history. What might have been an ending is now a new and glorious beginning. It is up to you, now, to decide what side of that history you are going to be on.”
“And have you asked your Caomhnóir what they think of that idea? Pledging their fealty to the Necromancers?” Finn called out, stepping forward. His face was suddenly shrewd.
“It is no concern of mine what they think of it,” Simone said with a cold laugh. “It is not their place to offer me their opinions. They have pledged their loyalty to me, and they will lay down their lives to protect me, as is their sworn duty.”
“You seem to have forgotten something, High Priestess,” came a voice from the midst of the Caomhnóir ranks, and to my surprise, it was Kiernan who was speaking now.
“You dare to speak to me, a prisoner in my castle?” Simone asked, incredulous.
“I do,” Kiernan said. “I dare speak to anyone who would misrepresent the central tenet of my Brotherhood.”
“Misrepresent?” Simone repeated, sounding amused now. “In what way?”
Seamus stepped forward as well, adding his voice to the fray. “The Caomhnóir do not take their oath to protect any one Durupinen, no matter how powerful she may be. They take the oath to protect the Gateway, at all costs.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “It comes to the same thing, Guardian. The Durupinen and the Gateway are one and the same. The Gateway they are sworn to protect runs within my veins.”
“Not only in your veins,” I cried out, for I saw a glimmer of hope at last.
Simone narrowed her eyes at me. “What?”
“The Gateway only exists within our blood because we put it there so many years ago,” I said. “But now that the Reckoning is upon us, the Sentinels are using their Gateways to keep the Geatgrimas from collapsing. You can see it there, flowing freely outside of a Durupinen body for the first time in centuries.”