Getting through the door would require a subtler touch. She recalled the warlock leader’s voice. The deep tone of it. The raspy edge of his words. She thought she could replicate it.
Her fingers sketched out a symbol, which she made invisible too. Then she let it fly. The spell soared through the open door and into the space beyond. She didn’t know what was beyond the door so she hoped luck would be on her side. When she thought it was the proper distance away, she triggered it.
“Get up here,” the warlock leader’s voice called. It wasn’t perfect, but it sounded close enough to the real thing.
The two guards glanced at each other and then rushed through the door. As scared as she was, she couldn’t hesitate. She sprang up from behind the dead bodies and hurtled past the door. A stone staircase spiraled up in front of her, and she could just see the guards’ boots disappear around the upward curve.
She took a step toward the stairs, but her instincts told her to stop. She had to be patient now. A single mistake would ruin any chance she had of saving her friends. Instead of rushing headlong up into the tower, she hid in a shadowy corner of the room and forced herself to wait.
Less than a minute later, the two guards came stomping back down the stairs before returning to their posts on the other side of the door. Sephi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If she hadn’t waited, she would have run right into them.
That’s one disaster avoided. Just a million more to go.
She padded quietly up the stairs. After a few twists, the stairs ended and opened up into a long hallway lit by blue orbs like the ones from down below. Recessed doorways dotted the walls on either side, and she flitted from one to another, pressing her ear against the wooden doors but hearing nothing stirring behind them.
The warlocks weren’t here. They had to be higher up, which only made sense. Hextius’s message had said something about the secrets being at the top of the tower. She looked into one of the rooms and saw what looked like old sleeping quarters. A bed and a wardrobe were inside, but she found it hard to tell for sure.
Everything in the room had been thrashed some time in the distant past. The sight piqued her curiosity, but whatever had happened here was of no concern to her. Her friends were waiting for her somewhere on the upper floors.
So up she went, checking for signs of her friends on every floor just in case. The stairwells seemed to alternate sides on every floor so she had to walk down every hall anyway. She didn’t look in every room, but the few she checked looked as destroyed as that first bedroom.
A few levels up, she finally heard voices. Still invisible, she pressed her body flush against one of the recessed doorways. Two warlocks descended from the stairs at the other end of the hall. She narrowed her eyes when she saw them. She knew these dickheads.
One of them was Ekks, the guy who had tried to kill her with his summoned blood hounds. The dark corruption swirled beneath the skin of his bare arms like inky clouds. Beside him was Grim, who had somehow survived the savage love of the manticores and Echo’s Stepmother bomb, although he hadn’t emerged unscathed. Half of his face was burned away, and he walked with a pronounced limp.
As they approached, Sephi caught a snippet of their conversation.
“So much scratching and biting,” Grim said, shaking his head. “Who knew Grandma was such a mean drunk? And she was not thrilled that Grandpa bought that teleportation potion. But then he disappeared, and she never saw him again. So that shut her up.”
“Wait,” Ekks said. “Teleportation potions aren’t a thing. Are you telling me it worked?”
“Nah,” Grim said. “He divorced my grandmother right after that fight. He moved to the coast of the Broken Seas to open a bed and breakfast with his friend, Ron David. It was a whole big thing.”
The two men passed Sephi’s hiding spot, and she took the opportunity to creep down the hall to the stairs leading up. At the top, another identical hallway stretched in front of her. This time, when she listened at one of the doors, she heard a strange bubbling sound. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the door to take a peek.
Wooden bookcases and tables looked like they’d been knocked over and smashed to splinters. Books and torn out pages lay scattered everywhere. Huge glass tanks stood along the far wall. Most of them were broken. Although from the patterns of shattered glass littering the floor, it looked like they had been broken from the inside.
The few tanks that remained intact were filled with a bubbling yellow liquid. The pipes attached to the bottom of the vats still pumped somehow, even after all these years. Misshapen skeletons floated in the fluid, having died long ago, if they had ever been truly alive in the first place.
This must have been where Hextius Black created the vile monstrosities down below and where he gave birth to the Nyx. The wreckage of the mad laboratory looked like a fight had taken place. She was reminded of Moros’s story that the Nyx rose up against their creator and took their freedom by force.
Perhaps that rebellion had started right in this room.
She ducked out of there and closed the door softly behind her. Voices carried down the hall, and she froze, watching Ekks and Grim walking in her direction. They must be on patrol, probably looking for her. Although unlike the guards downstairs, they weren’t looking very hard.
“It’s not the size she’s complaining about,” Grim said. “It’s the weird shape.”
Ekks shook his head and sighed. “I really don’t want to hear about this, but I have to ask. What the hell shape is it?”
“It’s like a mushroom,” Grim said.
“Well, that’s not—”
“But, like, upside down,” Grim finished.
Ekks grimaced. “What the fuck? You know what? Forget I asked.”
Grim continued, unfazed by the other warlock’s disgust. “Now she wants me to get some powdered unicorn horn, as if that will make any difference. But I told her, I’m not going into the Cyclopean Forest for that shit.”
Ekks shrugged. “I don’t know, man. When she sees that new face of yours, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t run away screaming.”
Grim snorted a laugh. “Whatever. She’s no prize herself. I swear she’s half sea monkey.”
“Well, you did meet her at the edge of the Broken Seas,” Ekks said.
“Yeah, dude, at my grandpa’s bed and breakfast. That was a weird night. You ever eat pickled buru tail?”
The two men disappeared up the stairs. Sephi counted silently to a hundred to make sure she wouldn’t run up right behind them. Then she ascended to the next floor.
This hallway was different, narrower and shorter. She must be getting closer to the top, which was a relief. If she had to listen to one more inane conversation between Ekks and Grim, she might literally go insane.
As she emerged onto the next level of the tower, the two warlocks were just ten feet away from her, heading toward the stairwell she just climbed. She pressed her body against the wall and held her breath, waiting for the inevitable cry that they had spotted her.
“Stop,” Ekks said.
Sephi clenched her lips shut and tried not to throw up.
“What?” Grim asked.
“Just stop talking,” Ekks said. “You’re so full of shit your eyes are turning brown.”
They hadn’t seen her. Sephi would have sighed with relief, but Grim was so close to her now that she could smell his fishy breath. The billowy sleeve of his robe brushed against her breast as he passed, but he seemed too engrossed in the conversation to notice.
“Dude, I’m telling you,” Grim said. “Angel meat tastes like chicken.”
Ekks shook his head. “Bullshit! That doesn’t even make any sense. I mean, they’re not human, but they sure as hell aren’t poultry.” He paused. “I mean, okay. Maybe the wings.”
“Right?” Grim asked. “It just makes sense.”
“Why are we even talking about this?” Ekks asked. “I know damn well you’ve never eaten an Angel.�
�
“Well, no,” Grim said. “But my cousin did!”
The two warlocks passed from sight, and Sephi hurried in the opposite direction, wishing she had killed them back at the Valley.
A huge round room opened up in front of her. Plush red carpets adorned the stone floor, and crowded bookshelves lined the walls. Cushioned chairs sat in front of long tables with half-melted candles in their center.
The signs of destruction from the lower levels weren’t present here. She wondered if the ancient warlocks had been able to seal off the top floors when the Nyx rebelled. If that had been the case, it made sense why Hextius had kept the tower’s most precious secrets up here.
What didn’t make sense was why no warlocks were down here rifling through the books. She doubted the Whispers would just be sitting on a bookshelf, but surely these shelves held information not available anywhere else in Esper. Something more interesting upstairs had to be occupying their attention if they were ignoring this treasure trove.
She just hoped it didn’t involve her friends.
As she approached what she hoped was the last goddamn staircase, she heard voices coming from above. Her footsteps were silent as she crept upstairs, although her heartbeat pounded so loudly in her ears that she doubted she could hear them anyway.
She peeked her head around the last turn and saw a vast room that looked part study and part laboratory. The bleached bones of a dragon skull hung from the wall, next to the flattened-out pelt of an enormous wolf. Glass beakers covered tables throughout the room, once again filled with unidentifiable fluids and preserved specimens. And a massive wooden desk sat in the center, covered in books and papers.
An ornately decorated chair was behind the desk, and in its seat sat a skeleton of someone long dead. It couldn’t be Zekariah. Perhaps it was Hextius Black, who died as a prisoner in his own tower after the Nyx revolted. As interesting as the dead man was, the living were of much more concern.
Several warlocks searched through the scattered shelves and tables. A pair of them stood beside a door off to the side like guards, each holding curved swords in their hands. Sephi figured her friends must be inside that room. She couldn’t get to them now, not that she was about to try, but she took note of Magnus’s sword lying on a nearby table next to Echo’s satchel and Francisco’s pouches.
Not ten feet in front of her, the warlock leader stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his back to the staircase.
He shouted orders at his underlings, directing their search while he supervised. The muscles between his broad shoulders flexed with every breath, and Sephi suddenly had a really stupid idea.
She unsheathed the Heretic Blade. She could end this now, once and for all. All she had to do was get close enough to strike.
She couldn’t take everyone in this study at once, but maybe she could cut off the head of the snake. In the ensuing chaos, she might just have a chance to get to her friends, and then, well, she didn’t know what would happen after. She could cross that bridge after she burned this one.
She took a silent step toward the warlock leader, and his back stiffened as if he could sense her presence.
Fuck. No time for stealth.
She bounded toward him, hoping to close the distance.
The man turned to look at her, and the flames and color disappeared from his face. “Hello, Persephone.”
She froze midstep, and the Heretic Blade dropped from her suddenly numb fingers. “Dad?”
Chapter 21
Sephi couldn’t tell if this was a dream come true or if she was still stuck in the grip of the night mare’s trap. She’d spent the last five years wishing she could see her parents again, and now, her father was standing in front of her in the flesh. Only now, he was a corrupted Occultum warlock who had imprisoned her friends.
The other warlocks in the room advanced on her, but her father held up his hand to stop them. She barely registered it, though. Her entire world was focused on the man in front of her.
“You’re alive,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes at him in confusion. “And you’re a warlock.”
“I am.”
She shook her head at his simple responses. “Well, I mean, what the fuck, Dad?”
He frowned. “That’s no way to talk to your father, Persephone.”
“Oh, well, pardon me for my lack of fucking decorum,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
He sighed, as if her questions annoyed him. “I suppose you deserve some answers. Let’s talk downstairs.” He turned to the nearest warlock. “Keep searching the Sanctum. Let me know the minute you find anything. And if any of you think to double cross me, I will literally strangle you with your own intestines. Understood?”
They all nodded, and her father gestured toward the stairs. “After you, my dear.”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll run away?” she asked.
He laughed. “As if you could walk away from this now. You were always too curious for your own good. I fear you got that from me. Besides, I have your friends, although I can’t say I’m pleased to see you teaming up with a Nyx. Evil creatures.”
Sephi moved toward the stairs. “That’s rich, coming from a warlock.”
“Exactly,” he said, following her. “I know a thing or two about evil, so believe me when I tell you they’re not to be trusted.”
“Right now, I trust him more than I trust you,” she said.
“Well, then you’re a fool.”
She descended into the library, her mind churning with questions, her stomach sick with the truth. All of these years she thought she had killed him. Her father twitched his hand, and one of the cushioned chairs slid out from a table.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“No thanks. I’ll stand.”
He narrowed his eyes and swept his hand in her direction. A wave of force hurtled her spinning into the chair. She struggled to get to her feet, but the invisible force held her in place.
“Make no mistake, my child. I am in control here.”
She stopped straining and sat sullenly, looking at the man her father had become. “How the hell are you still alive? I thought I killed you.”
He smiled. “Silly girl, I am immortal.”
Her jaw dropped open, and her eyes widened. “What?”
Her father laughed. “I’m kidding. You should have seen your face. No, I’ve only heard of one immortal mage, aside from Zekariah, and if I ever get my hands on Ignis Fatuus, I’ll tear him limb from limb until he reveals how he managed that little trick.”
“I’m confused,” Sephi said.
Her father waved his hand dismissively. “That is immaterial. To answer your question, I didn’t die on your birthday, despite your best efforts. I escaped the fire.”
“My best efforts?” Sadness swept through her at the idea that her father would think such a thing. It took a moment, but she realized the man in front of her wasn’t the same man that raised her. She cocked her head to the side. “Wait, if you’re alive, does that mean—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Your mother died, and before you ask, yes, you killed her.”
The weight of her guilt crushed her chest, and she could barely breathe. She had always blamed herself for what happened, but hearing it confirmed from her father’s mouth shook her to the core.
“But how?” she managed to croak out. “What the hell happened?”
Asterion sighed. “You never could follow the rules, could you? You changed the spell and ruined everything.”
Sephi felt like a child again, insecure and uncertain beneath her father’s disapproving gaze.
“I wanted to surprise you and Mom,” she said softly, emotion choking her voice.
“Believe me, we were both surprised, although for different reasons.” He began pacing around the library. “I’d spent months planning out every detail of the ritual, but the one thing I couldn’t plan for was yo
u changing the damn spell on me.”
“What ritual?” she asked, shifting in her seat. “What are you talking about?”
He stopped walking and turned to look at her. “I suppose there’s no reason to keep it a secret anymore. For years, I had been delving into the secrets of dark magic. Being born a Blue, all I had at my disposal was illusions, and there is no power in that. No way to crush your enemies or take control of destiny. Zekariah’s dark arts offered me the strength I desired.”
Sephi shook her head. “Are you telling me you were a warlock this whole time? Even when I was a child?”
“Yes,” he said nonchalantly. “Before you were even born.”
“But dark magic corrupts the user,” she said. “Why didn’t I ever see any sign of the corruption in you? Why don’t I see it now?”
He shrugged. “That’s the one thing Blue magic is good for, hiding the physical changes brought on by casting blood magic. Don’t look so surprised. I’m using it right now. This is my true face.” Her father’s familiar face faded, and the blue flames erupted around his indigo skin. “I just figured you would be more comfortable seeing me the way you remembered me.”
She let out a soft yelp and tears stung her eyes. “You evil monster.”
Asterion laughed, his teeth a stark white in contrast to the darkness swirling around his head. “Good and evil are just words, child. Morality is an artificial construct. The only thing that matters in this life is power, and I learned at an early age that power isn’t given. It’s taken. So I chose to claim power for myself, and I wouldn’t let antiquated rules against blood magic stand in my way. Surely you understand that?”
She drew herself up as tall as she could against her invisible restraints. “Maybe I bend some rules from time to time, but I’m not on board with your twisted world view. Maybe nothing purely good exists, but evil is real. Just look in the fucking mirror and see what the dark magic has done to you.”
He nodded his chin in her direction. “Well, all philosophical questions aside, you’re stuck in that chair, and I’m standing on my own two feet. That’s all the evidence I need to know I chose the right path.”
The Lost Tower Page 18