by E M Lacey
Shrieks, groans, and moans filled the air followed by the thunderous beat of footsteps. Sunni looked in the direction of the sound. The shrouded man struck with a bolt of magic, knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard as the Indentured crested the mountain top then stopped abruptly.
There was victory in the shrouded man’s grin as he aimed his shepherd’s crook at them. Spindles of red light danced around it. He redirected the shepherd’s crook at Sunni, who had already leapt to her feet and drawn her magic, ready for the onslaught.
“Perdere!” His voice rumbled like thunder, as he pushed power into the word.
The Indentured did not move. The shrouded man said the word again, pushing even more magic into it. The Indentured remained still. The shrouded man drew his forearm across the edge of the crook. Blood flowed as he repeated the word. The Indentured sniffed the air, their eyes glowed red, but they remained as they were.
“What is this?” The shrouded man screamed at them. “I am your Master. Obey me!”
A little girl with a very blue tube top and blue jean shorts with shingled edges pushed to the forefront. “You’re not our master.”
The Indentured charged forward. Sunni drew her shield. The Indentured ignored her as they pressed toward the shrouded man, who cursed heartily before pulling his shroud tight and stepping back. A fissure materialized between him and the dormant spirit box.
The Indentured pushed past him toward the box nipping, biting, and clawing as they passed. The box lit up like a macabre beacon. The Indentured climbed into it. As soon as their bodies touched the top, a vaporous cord latched on to them and drew them inside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Indentured materialized around Aurora who floated above ground, prone and bleeding. Many looked at her with longing but did not move. Aurora felt her grip slip a little as her panic rose.
“Focus, child. You have nuthin’ to be afraid of.”
But they’re lookin’ at me like I’m the next meal.
“Call ‘dem to this place and make ‘dem be still.”
Like I know how to do that. Aurora felt her grip loosening.
“Hold tight, gurl. They are yours to call and command. Act like it.”
Aurora imagined herself a queen and the Indentured were her subjects. They were to come to her and kneel in waiting. She fed her desire into the call. The Indentured around her took a knee and lowered their deformed heads.
Emboldened, Aurora extended her reach, drawing in the Indentured at a faster rate. She felt herself descending as the full number of the Indentured filled the space minus two whose tethers had withered and were fading.
“What do I do now?” Aurora’s feet were firmly planted on the slick ground.
“Put ‘dem to rest then come to me.”
Aurora rolled her eyes at the unseen man. “You’re all about asking for the impossible, aren’t you?” The sound of her voice startled her. She had been speaking to the bodiless man but she had done it telepathically.
The man laughed. The little lights filled with color, flickering and flashing, then were gone.
Sleep. She held the word in her mind, wishing all the Indentured would rest. Sleeping stopped the hunger. It stopped their pain.
Just like the wish for them to be still, one by one, all the Indentured rose, bowed their heads, and slept. The tethers connected to them held them upright. Some swayed a little while others became like statues. She waited until they were all asleep before she worked her way through the maze of veins and bodies to a clear space.
How do I find this mystery man?
A hiss of sand cut through the stillness of the Nether. A burst of warm light, the color of the man’s voice, lights revealed a cobblestone trail. It materialized, stone by stone, in front of her. The light followed the stones, a neat trail above the muck, toward a cluster of umbrella trees with strange white-blue flowers.
“I’m at the end of the path,” the man said.
Aurora placed her feet onto the cobblestone trail and walked.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Indentured materialized around Aurora who floated above ground, prone and bleeding. Many looked at her with longing but did not move. Aurora felt her grip slip a little as her panic rose.
“Focus, child. You have nuthin’ to be afraid of.”
But they’re lookin’ at me like I’m the next meal.
“Call ‘dem to this place and make ‘dem be still.”
Like I know how to do that. Aurora felt her grip loosening.
“Hold tight, gurl. They are yours to call and command. Act like it.”
Aurora imagined herself a queen and the Indentured were her subjects. They were to come to her and kneel in waiting. She fed her desire into the call. The Indentured around her took a knee and lowered their deformed heads.
Emboldened, Aurora extended her reach, drawing in the Indentured at a faster rate. She felt herself descending as the full number of the Indentured filled the space minus two whose tethers had withered and were fading.
“What do I do now?” Aurora’s feet were firmly planted on the slick ground.
“Put ‘dem to rest then come to me.”
Aurora rolled her eyes at the unseen man. “You’re all about asking for the impossible, aren’t you?” The sound of her voice startled her. She had been speaking to the bodiless man but she had done it telepathically.
The man laughed. The little lights filled with color, flickering and flashing, then were gone.
Sleep. She held the word in her mind, wishing all the Indentured would rest. Sleeping stopped the hunger. It stopped their pain.
Just like the wish for them to be still, one by one, all the Indentured rose, bowed their heads, and slept. The tethers connected to them held them upright. Some swayed a little while others became like statues. She waited until they were all asleep before she worked her way through the maze of veins and bodies to a clear space.
How do I find this mystery man?
A hiss of sand cut through the stillness of the Nether. A burst of warm light, the color of the man’s voice, lights revealed a cobblestone trail. It materialized, stone by stone, in front of her. The light followed the stones, a neat trail above the muck, toward a cluster of umbrella trees with strange white-blue flowers.
“I’m at the end of the path,” the man said.
Aurora placed her feet onto the cobblestone trail and walked.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thurgood ignored his burning lungs as the coach house came into view. Vibrant green trees hung over a small pale white replica of the main cottage. The garden lining the circumference had been savaged, there was a large hole in the left wall, yet the front door, which was the same vibrant green as the trees was undisturbed. He stopped in front of it.
It was impulse rather than caution that had him enter through the front door. A putrid odor lingered in the air, seizing his lungs and scratching his throat. He backed away, dropping to his knees, coughing violently. The coughs turned into equally violent retching. He rolled away from his filth, cautious to not let his weak arms fall into it.
Thurgood repositioned himself, facing the door. He had to go in. It was the only way he could find Abigail. He didn’t have to be inside the cottage to know she wasn’t there. The giant hole in the wall and the stench declared the little house abandoned, but there would be traces, something that would lead him to her. He wouldn’t know until he inspected the interior.
He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. It took some effort, but he regained his balance. He raised his arm and buried his nose in the bend before surging forward. The door was already open so it was a straight shot. He soldiered through until he reached a glowing mess near a toppled table and chair. Chains, luminescent silver, lie in a broken heap. Black spots were spattered on both the chains and floor. The scene resurrected the odor but there was something new to the smell: sour milk. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, as he examined the floor. He followed the black spots
which formed a trail from the glowing chains to the gaping hole. He paused to search for any signs of injury, like blood or fallen items, like hair ties or something off the hunter.
Satisfied that no one was harmed, to his knowledge, he continued following the black foul-smelling goo. Thurgood was not a tracker but he was a fan of westerns. In almost every movie with a tracker, he or she would use the environment for signs of human trespass.
Thurgood dropped his gaze, inspecting the grass, then peered up, scanning the branches looking for breaks. He repeated the up and down scan of the area until he located a set of boot-sized prints. He moved to the right of the boot print trail, his own pace accelerating as he noticed the absence of a second, smaller set of prints. Was Abigail still with him?
He jogged along the trail until he passed through a thicket of trees. Three piles of ash, of varying sizes, were scattered about. A moan coming from behind the largest pile drew him forward. He found a seriously injured Julius on the other side.
He knelt beside him, lifting Julius carefully, cradling his head on the upper part of his thighs.
“She’s gone.” Julius coughed; blood spilled from the corners of his mouth.
Thurgood nearly dropped him. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“Those things…attacked…us.” He raised his arm which flopped and fluttered until he managed to gain control of it. He aimed his index finger at the pile in front of him.
“She did that.” Julius’s body relaxed.
Thurgood’s mouth fell open. “Oh dear.”
Julius’ hand flopped back to the ground. He reached awkwardly for Thurgood. Clasping his forearm, he said, “You have to find her.” He blinked his eyes slowly.
“I know,” Thurgood whispered. “God, I know.”
“Save her,” he whispered. His last word was more of a sigh, as he turned his head and died.
“Mr. Thompson?” Thurgood shook him gently. “Come now, I need you to help me get you out of here.”
Julius didn’t respond.
“Mr. Thompson?” Thurgood gave him a more vigorous shake.
“He’s gone, Mr. Biggs.” Bridgette emerged from the shadows, covered in dirt. Leaves, twigs, and debris in her hair.
“What happened to you?”
“When Cora takes over, she teleports my body to the Mother Tree.” She plucked a few leaves and several twigs from her hair. “It’s close by and heavily warded. There’s a hollow there where she sends my body. I sleep until she fades.” She grabbed her shirt and shook it. Dirt and leaves rained to the ground.
“Do you know what happened?”
“I know everything that happened to the point of Cora’s fading away.” She grabbed her hair, which was in a sloppy braid, with both hands and shook it. It wasn’t as effective as shaking out her skirt. Leaves were stubborn when it came to hair.
“She’s gone.”
“I heard.” Brigette knelt beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s not dead.”
“How do you…”
“I know what Cora knows.” She waved her free hand at the open space. “Cora is the Cove. She is its guardian. She is its magic.”
“So, she’s omnipotent.”
“Not really. She sees everything as it pertains to the land and all who are in it.”
Thurgood’s expression relaxed. Brigette pat him on his shoulder.
“We can leave him here for now.”
Thurgood lay Julius down.
“We’ll search for Abigail.”
“Yes, but after we meet with the others at the main house.”
“But Abigail…”
“Will be fine. She’s stronger than you think.”
Thurgood rose unsteadily to his feet.
“But she’s never been on her own.”
Brigette grabbed his hands. “She’ll be fine.” She released them and headed down the trail leading to the main house. Thurgood followed.
Chapter Thirty
Back at the main house, Montague jerked upright. He scooted away from Sunni as the vision of what he saw sank in. The Witness Spell was the magical version of a court stenographer, the difference was in how everything was recorded. The moment Sunni cast the spell, he felt himself rise above the Cove. It was like his consciousness spread across every inch of the property. He could see everything but say nothing. He couldn’t warn Abigail or Julius of the Broken. He watched helplessly as McKellen was tossed through a porthole. Aurora was thrown into the spirit box which, like Dietrich, vanished into oblivion. There was no way he knew how to find them. His head hurt as the knowledge settled.
He jumped at Sunni’s touch. She pulled back. She had gotten on her knees in front of him and watched him intently.
“How are you feeling?”
Montague’s stomach roiled, but it settled quickly. He felt nauseous but it wasn’t so terrible that he couldn’t function. “I’m fine.” He leaned his head against the wall he was pressed against.
“Please don’t move until you are ready.”
He nodded carefully.
“I’ll check on Alex and Alba.” Sunni got to her feet.
Montague threw up a hand. “They’re gone.”
“What?”
“They’re gone. I saw them leave not too long after the explosion.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She’s a frightened mother. All of this.” He waved his hand at the small foyer. “This magic and creatures trying to kill them got to her. She did what she thought was best. Got her child out of this.”
“But Alba’s not well.”
“True. Try reasoning with a terrified parent who doesn’t trust Others.”
Sunni walked over to the nearest chair and dropped into it.
Bridgette and Thurgood entered the foyer.
“We have to find her!” Thurgood screamed at Sunni.
“We have to find them all,” Sunni amended.
“All…” Thurgood’s already pale complexion blanched.
“McKellen and Aurora are missing,” Bridgette interjected as she moved over to the spot where Sunni sat. “So are Alex and Alba.”
“What happened?” Thurgood found a chair, dragged it into the main hall and sat.
Bridgette grabbed the chair across from Sunni. “Yes, a lot has happened, but there’s a lot more that needs to be sorted out before we do anything.” She looked pointedly at Thurgood. “Like, how long have you known your niece was a fire witch, who bound her powers, and what the hell happened to your sister?”
Thurgood opened his mouth but Bridgette stopped his reply.
“We’ll talk, but we have to do it after this place has been secured.” Bridgette rose stiffly, digging the heels of her palms into her lower back, then stretched. “I have to reinforce the warding.” She glanced over at Sunni. “I’m going to need your help with that.”
Sunni reluctantly exited her seat and followed Bridgette to the door. She paused in the entryway. Montague waved her off.
“We’ll be fine.” He turned tired eyes to Thurgood who looked away.
Sunni nodded and closed the door behind her.
“I’m too tired to say what I would like, Thurgood. But look around you.” He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Secrets are destructive.” He wagged his finger at his friend. “I told you we can’t have them in this firm.” He moved his hand between them. “We most definitely can’t have them between us.”
Thurgood’s face fell. “I know this is my fault.”
“No. Many people made this mess, but we’ll clean it up,” he assured his friend. “We’ll make this right.”
Thurgood got up from his chair and joined his friend. “I’ll make this right.”
Montague grabbed his shoulder. “No. We’ll make this right and we’ll get them back.”
Thurgood nodded weakly, reminding himself of Bridgette’s words. “She’s stronger than you think.” God, he hoped so, for her sake and his.
Ch
apter Thirty-One
Valera filed her nails as she waited in the place Dietrich told her. She paused and inspected a perfectly manicured turquoise nail before curling her lip at the dank dungeon she was subjected to. The only bit of moonlight in the place streamed through a small window near the ceiling. It had bars which broke up the light.
She dropped her gaze to the only appealing item in the room: the large Scot lying on a stone platform. He was chained, but the spell Adiran’s sorcerer hit him with guaranteed he would not regain consciousness for a while. He would sleep until it was time for the ritual.
Valera set her file on an overturned bucket, uncrossed her legs, and stood. She sashayed over to the handsome Scot. She leaned over him, her gaze eating up every inch of him, from his tousled black locks to the broad shoulders, impressive chest, down to his feet. She placed her manicured index finger at the center of his chest and dragged it slowly down, popping buttons along the way.
“Nice,” she all but moaned.
“It’s rude to molest the unconscious.” Dietrich’s baritone erupted from the shadows behind her.
Valera squeaked. She spun and launched a blade in his direction. He caught it by the handle, aware that the blade itself was poisoned. He tossed it aside and stalked in her direction. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face the second pillar across from the unconscious hunter. On it, the black spirit box materialized.
“Where’s the witch?”
“She’s missing.”
“What?” Valera stomped her foot, hoping to catch Dietrich’s toes. He was fast and moved them out of the way. He shoved her. She skinned her arms on McKellen’s stone pillar. Blood smeared along the grooves of the stone but her arm began healing almost instantly.
“Don’t worry about the witch. She will be collected. We have a bigger mystery.” He pointed at the box. “It’s in there.”
Valera’s face twisted in confusion.
“I’ll explain.” He pulled her upright, keeping a tight grip on her arm. He dragged her toward the door.