by E. E. Holmes
I didn’t know what Talia and Grayson needed to say to each other—and I didn’t want to know, either. The moment was only for the two of them, and I respected that. I knew too well that some moments in life are almost unbearably intimate, and, for Talia and Grayson, this was one of them. I walked—and then ran—away before the sheer humanity of it all could overwhelm me.
§
A state of hysteria awaited me in the lobby. Angry and frightened guests were grouped around staff members, loudly demanding to be told what was happening.
“I refuse to be sent to my room without being told exactly what’s going on!” Tom Owens shouted. “We’re paying good money to be here—and I won’t be kept in the dark.”
“Sir, please try to keep calm,” a security guard replied. “We are simply dealing with a situation. It would make our job easier if—”
“You think I give a good goddamn about what makes your job easier? I demand—”
Marigold’s voice overtook Tom’s. “Where’s Jeremiah? Y’all get him out here right now. He won’t stand for this! Imagine being treated in such a manner!” The flustered young waitress Marigold was shouting at turned even paler as another voice rose above the commotion.
“Is there an intruder? I heard someone say there was an intruder!” a frightened voice called.
“Sir, there is no intru—”
“We were guaranteed a communication session today!” shrieked another woman. “You can’t cancel it! I need to speak to my sister!”
“Have our things sent down! I’m calling my lawyer right now!” a man barked at Maya, who looked close to tears as she tried to manage the chaos.
In the commotion, no one noticed me quietly skirting along the lobby’s perimeter. I slipped down the corridor behind the staircase, then ran the entire length of the deserted hall. I flew around the corner, where I found Finn, Hannah, and Milo huddled around the basement door.
“I’m here, I’m here!” I panted. “What’s going on?”
“Finn picked the lock, and now Hannah’s undoing the Wards before we go down. We want her to be able to Call reinforcements if we need them,” Milo said.
“Any word from Catriona?” I asked Finn.
Finn shook his head grimly. “I reported the incident. She said the Trackers are on their way, but they’re at least an hour out—and we can’t wait that long to Unmask that angel. The angel could be gone by then, and we can’t leave Campbell alone down there with it—assuming that the angel is down there. None of us have seen it since it got away from Milo.” Finn turned to the door, examining Hannah’s work, then asked me, “Everything go okay out there?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I let them say good-bye. Grayson gave me his word that he won’t blow our cover. Not that it matters at this point. If we’re not totally exposed already, I think we’re about to blow it wide open ourselves.”
“We bloody well are,” Finn said, with a whisper of a smile on his lips.
“Okay, I did it, I think,” Hannah said, stepping away from the cellar door. “The Wards should be lifted now.”
“That’s it then,” Finn said. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s go?” Hannah cried, with a note of hysteria in her voice. “We’re just going to go charging down there? Don’t we need a plan?”
“Under ideal circumstances, yes,” Finn replied. “But we have no idea what we’ll find down there. We’ll just have to wing it.”
“Winging it is my favorite kind of plan. I’d wing everything if I could,” Milo said with a somewhat tense smile, injecting levity for Hannah’s sake. She didn’t seem to notice.
As I chuckled at Milo, something caught my eye. A tall cylindrical object, rolled up like an oversized scroll, was propped up against the wall beside Finn.
“What’s that?” I asked Finn, pointing to it. “Is it yours?”
“It’s a Circle,” Finn replied, with a note of pride in his voice.
Genuinely baffled, and increasingly eager to go after the angel, my mouth refused any attempts at eloquence. “Huh?”
“It’s a Circle. I got the idea when the angel pulled back the rug in the drawing room. When the rug was curled back, I noticed that the chalk had rubbed off on its underside, creating a second Circle. That rug was too big to take with me, so I nicked one of the yoga mats from the studio and Cast a Circle on it. This mat is a proper, portable Circle, and—”
“—and if we can get the angel cornered somewhere, we can slide the mat under it and boom! We’ll seal it in the Circle!” I finished for him. “Finn… that’s one of the most brilliant ideas I’ve ever heard.”
Finn smiled at me. “Thank you. Don’t be bothered, I won’t let this go to my head.”
“Well, grab that Circle and let’s get this over with,” I said. And, with much more confidence than I felt, I flung open the basement door.
24
Whispers of the Walker
A SHARP, BESTIAL GRUNTING. A dull, muffled scraping. A clatter and a thud.
These sounds began drifting up the stairs before we’d even started our descent. Then came the words—words that, as we reached the bottom of the steps, I knew were definitely not in English.
Someone had jammed a single torch into a bracket on the wall at the base of the staircase. It was by this wavering light that we crept, single-file, down a long, dirt-floored passageway.
“Is that someone talking?” whispered Hannah, as we approached the gaping, black-mouthed doorway at the end of the passage.
“Yes,” Finn answered. “It sounds like Campbell, doesn’t it?”
We all stopped and listened. The voice did indeed have the same tone and timbre as Campbell’s, but there was something different about it, too. It had none of Campbell’s smooth and sultry Southernness; it sounded harsh.
“Is that… Russian?” I asked, as Campbell’s voice floated toward us again.
Finn nodded. “Or something like it. Definitely Eastern European. Come on.”
With Finn in the lead, we slid along the wall single-file until we reached the doorway; it opened into a perfectly round stone chamber covered in runes. By the light of several more torches, we found Campbell—his bare torso dripping with sweat and grime—hoisting large stones onto a dais at the very center of the room. He stacked the stones into piles, carefully troweling mortar in between each layer, working to create two tall pillars. As he stacked the stones, a steady stream of grunting and cursing in rapid Russian came from his lips. There was no sign of the angel anywhere, but suddenly the deep bags under Campbell’s eyes made perfect sense.
“Where’s the angel?” I whispered.
“I can’t be wholly sure, but possibly it’s… that is, perhaps it’s…” Finn began. He cut himself off mid-sentence, changing course. “Do you think it likely someone of Campbell’s background speaks Russian? Fluent, proper, Russian?”
“A real estate guy from North Carolina? Not likely, no,” I replied. Suddenly, my brain put the pieces together. “The angel! It’s the one speaking Russian. It’s Habitating in him right now, isn’t it?” A small whimper of dread escaped Hannah as I spoke.
Finn nodded. “I think it must be. It’s using him to do… whatever it is he’s doing in there.”
“Yeah, and on that topic, what the hell is he doing?” Milo asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied in the merest whisper. “Building something, it looks like.”
“Or rebuilding something,” Finn said. “Those stones look quite old.”
Hannah clapped a hand over her mouth in horror as she realized what Campbell was building. Then she pulled her hand away from her mouth and hissed, “It’s a Geatgrima!”
We all turned back to Campbell. Now that Hannah had figured out what he was building, I couldn’t believe we hadn’t recognized it immediately.
Finn motioned for us to retreat further back into the passage. Not until we reached the foot of the stairs did Hannah ask, “But how? How can there be a Geatgrima here?”
The only G
eatgrima I’d ever seen was in Fairhaven’s central courtyard. It was there that I had Walked into the world beyond the Gateway when we were fighting the Necromancers.
The words that next came from my mouth possibly constituted the understatement of the year. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s bad,” Finn replied.
“But it’s just a structure!” said Milo. “Campbell can’t control it, can he?”
“Geatgrimas aren’t just structures,” Finn murmured. “Their locations are carefully chosen. There’s always a link to inherent spirit activity—to places where the spirits congregate naturally. Geatgrimas are built to shore up and concentrate that energy, to attract the Fifth Element nearer to our realm. It’s the closeness to the Aether itself that causes the immense pull and power coming from a Geatgrima.”
My heart began racing again. “So that Geatgrima was here, hidden in the basement all this time?”
“It must’ve been, yes,” Finn said. “I can’t understand why the Trackers didn’t know it was here! This is a Gateway incarnate; the Durupinen are the Gatekeepers. They’re supposed to know the location of every single Geatgrima.”
“They knew this plantation was an abandoned Durupinen stronghold,” Hannah said. “They just didn’t know why.”
“But why didn’t we sense it? We can feel the pull of the Fairhaven Geatgrima a mile away!” I said, as my panic mounted.
Finn gestured back down the passage. “Castings. You saw the runes in there. The Geatgrima has been hidden—just like the angel has been hiding behind its Masking. Hidden in plain sight, the pair of them.”
And it’s possible,” began Hannah, thinking out loud, “that our Masking bracelets dampened our sensitivity to the Geatgrima, too. Maybe they Mask our Gateway from the Aether?”
“It’s possible,” I replied, as I began unclasping my bracelet.
“Don’t Jess—not yet! Not until we’ve got a solid plan,” cried Finn. Hannah shot me a look warning me not to argue.
I was about to object, but Milo cut in. “But it looks like that Geatgrima has been a pile of rubble until now. Maybe it was destroyed?” he asked, almost hopefully.
Finn shook his head. “You can destroy the structure, but its pull and power remain. And if the being who’s controlling Campbell is rebuilding with the Geatgrima’s original stones, there’s a chance the Geatgrima will be fully active when he finishes putting it back together.”
We all stared at each other for a moment, letting the horror of that possibility sink in. An unguarded Geatgrima, if it were active, could disrupt the entire Gateway system. And if someone or something were actively manipulating that Geatgrima for their own dark purposes, the consequences could be even more dire.
“So this has got to be the angel’s endgame. It wants control of this Geatgrima.”
Finn nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“But what can the angel possibly do with it?” I asked. It can’t control the Geatgrima… can it?”
Finn ran a jittery hand through his hair. “I have no bloody idea.”
“No. Not again,” said Hannah, with a fierce determination in her voice. “The last time we lost control of a Geatgrima, it was my fault. I’m not letting that happen again!”
Three years. Three years and my sister was still torturing herself. “We’ve been over this Hannah. It wasn’t your fault. It was the Necroman—”
A resounding crash came echoing through the passage; Campbell’s angry stream of rapid Russian followed immediately.
“Yes, we will put an end to this,” Finn assured her. “But Hannah, I want you to stay here.”
“What? No! I’m coming with you!” she hissed. “I’m not letting this happen again. I can help!”
“I know you can! That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.” Finn explained. He put his hands on Hannah’s shoulders and bent down; he looked straight into her eyes. “Stay right here and listen to what’s happening. If we need help, you Call every spirit you can reach and get them in there. That room is under heavy Castings; we can’t be sure you’ll be able to Call if you get trapped in there with us.”
Hannah swallowed. “Yeah. Okay, that makes sense.”
“I’ll stay here with you, sweetness,” Milo told her, and then looked back at Finn. “That way no one is left unprotected. And Jess and I will leave our connection open.”
Finn nodded. “Yes. Right then. Good plan. Jess, when we get in there, you distract the angel. I’ll prepare to expel it from Campbell’s body.”
I squirmed. “Give me a chance to convince the angel to come out on its own first. Expelling that spirit would be painful for Campbell, and I don’t want to hurt him if we can help it. The guy’s already been through enough.”
“Fair enough,” Finn answered. “But if the angel won’t cooperate, and quickly, then I’m going to expel it. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Once the angel’s left Campbell’s body, we’ll try to Unmask it. We won’t know what our next step is until we know what that bloody thing actually is. You ready?”
I smiled broadly. “Absolutely not.”
He smiled back before declaring, “Here we go. Once more unto the breach!”
§
I slipped into the chamber, keeping my back to the wall. Finn followed me, but crept along the wall in the other direction. He dropped to his knees behind a pile of rocks. He looked up, found my eyes, and gave one determined nod.
Campbell, bent low over a huge block of stone, had his back to me. “Hey, Mr. Campbell, this looks like fun. Can I help?” I asked. My voice was louder than I’d meant it to be; it filled the chamber with a barrage of echoes.
Campbell spun around and locked onto me. When he spoke, it was in his usual polite Southern drawl. “Ah, Ms. Taylor. I’m afraid I’m occupied at the moment with a little project. Perhaps you could come back another time?” He attempted a smile, but what surfaced on his face was far closer to a manic grin.
I shook my head. “Look, I’m not buying it. I don’t know who I’m talking to, but I know it’s not Jeremiah Campbell. I also know that you’re no angel. Let Campbell go and show yourself!”
Campbell’s face smiled at me again, but it was like no smile those features had ever worn before. It was a leering, wicked thing that made Campbell look less like himself than ever. The voice that next came from his mouth, however, left no room for doubt: I was not talking with Jeremiah Campbell. The angel was speaking now.
“I see. So you’ve found us out,” said the being I was now speaking to. Its voice was bitter and full of pain, carrying vengeance in its very tone. “I can only assume you’re the one who left the Circle for me beneath the rug?”
“Yes, that’s right. Who are you?”
The being cocked Campbell’s head back and let loose a self-satisfied cackle. “Do you honestly not know? I thought that was what brought you here in the first place. Surely fate hasn’t thrown us together again by chance?”
I frowned. “Do we know each other?”
“I certainly didn’t know you at first. This Mask makes me virtually invisible, but it also clouds my own perceptions. It’s become hard to see the physical details of the living. And it’s been so long—so, so long—since I’ve been in my own body. It wasn’t until you revealed your Gateway that I realized who you were.”
My mind was racing, trying to understand. With the countless amounts of weird shit I’d encountered since becoming a Durupinen, I could barely fathom who, exactly, this could be. But if the angel knew me, I was going to use that to my advantage.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Finn twitching with anticipation. I made a subtle gesture at my side, signaling for him to wait. I just needed another moment more; the being would reveal its true self if I kept it talking—I was sure of that much.
“If we know each other, why the disguise? You’ve got nothing to hide anymore. We’ve found you. It’s over. Reveal yourself and talk to me face-to-face.”
; “You’ve found me, good for you. But stopping me? No! You can’t, not now.” And here the being made Campbell heave another stone onto the Geatgrima. “But very well. I’ll show myself. I confess I’m disappointed—I thought you’d recognize another like yourself.”
My heart began to race even faster; my thoughts became a dervish. “Like me” how? A Durupinen? A twin? A Muse? What did this creature think we had in common? And why did it know me?
My mind came up blank. Finding my voice, I finally asked, “Another what?”
“Another Walker, Northern Girl.”
The pit of my stomach jolted in shock. But before I could say another word, Campbell’s body dropped to its knees and began to convulse. Then he threw his head forward and began to scream; from the gaping hole of his mouth, the smoky form of the angel poured like blood from a wound. It pooled on the floor and then rose, shedding its smoky screen, to reveal a form and a face that I knew well—although hadn’t seen in more than three years.
“Hello, Irina.” I managed to whisper. Watching Irina manifest left me so bewildered that I was surprised my mouth could form any words at all.
Irina smiled at me. “Hello, Northern Girl.”
At the sight of her, my shock gave way to a profound sadness. “Irina, what are you still doing here… here, in the world of the living? When I saw you in the woods after the Necromancers attacked, you were free and happy. I thought your body died—I assumed you Crossed years ago.”
Irina’s face twitched, and her smile slid off. “That… didn’t work out,” she said vaguely.
“What do you mean?” I pressed. “That’s not really an answer, Irina. Surely we know each other better than that.”
“Alright Northern Girl, I will tell you. Like so many others, my body was wounded in the attack, yes, but my clan refused to let that body die. I kept waiting for the moment when I’d feel the connection let go, but they treated me, healed my body. I remain connected to that body—that cage—like a weight I must drag around with me!”