The Irin Chronicles Box Set

by T. G. Ayer

  Now, standing around would do no good. She had to make a decision—which way to go? One of the tunnels beckoned, wider, larger and brighter than the rest. If it looked welcoming, it might just be so. She walked down the tunnel, following its meandering path.

  There had been other tunnels to choose from, but all of the other gaping holes in the rock were cold and uninviting. Her footsteps were dulled by a fine layer of black moss which clung to the stone beneath her feet like a luxurious carpet.

  As she travelled farther along the passageway, various tokens of comfort began to appear. Small, elegant metal torches were fixed to the walls, throwing soft, yellow light into the passage. The walls were straighter, drier, and smoother—less cave-like than the rest of the tunnels throughout her journey.

  Her travels were taking her deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Earth, and Evie felt the ground drop as the tunnel sloped slightly.

  Evie reached a doorway sealed off by a solid stone door. The lintel towered above her, almost twice her height. Great hinges on the door, thick as her arms, were constructed of solid black metal. Evie's fingers lingered on the rough metal.

  A doorknob as large as her fist sat in the middle of the door right in front of her nose. She laid her palm on the stone. Through the thickness of the stone, Evie felt a pulsing, like a heart throbbing softly within the door. Or behind it.

  Evie tried to turn the knob, tugging and pulling to no avail. Angry and tired, she pushed, the door hard. The shove was all the door needed as it swung open, so smooth and quiet Evie barely took notice.

  Her eyes were fixed on a table at the center of the room. It sat there, large and heavy and seemingly cold. But Evie felt drawn to it. Some power throbbed within the stone. Her ears felt it pulsating; her heart beat in tandem with it.

  Before she knew it, she was beside the table. When her fingers touched the surface, Evie pulled back, startled. How she got there she did not know. It seemed to have a strange power over her, so strong she was unable to control her own body.

  The room was cold, stone walls and floor. Nothing adorned any of the room's surfaces.

  The table took pride of place. At each of the eight corners of the octagonal table, a circular depression was carved into the stone. Evie walked around the table, touching the hollows, feeling the stone, entranced. As she took the last corner to complete the circuit, her satchel knocked the stone corner and the Seals began to sing.

  The sweet sound of the Seals rang around the room, each ring echoing into each other as it bounced against the walls. A hundred bells clanged with haunting beauty and Evie's entire body sang with it. Her back tingled and her wings burgeoned, pressing against flesh and bone to answer the magical call, but she tamped back the urge to release them.

  She tugged the strap of the satchel over her head and laid it on the table. Opening the flap, she was greeted by an extraordinary sight. Evie stood in slack-jawed awe staring at the Seals inside it.

  All eight Seals lay free of their wrappings. Each Seal glowed golden while it sang with its sisters. Scripts once engraved upon each Seal's surface now swirled around as if alive as black, indecipherable words danced on the edges of the disks. The eight Seal engravings spun clockwise inside the swirling script. At the center of the disks, a single symbol now stood out, glowing with a yellow intensity, which burned against the back of Evie's eyes.

  Evie's heart jumped with shock.

  Nine mini-Seals engraved upon each Seal. But after retrieving the Seals from Marcellus' hiding-place they'd ended up with eight Seals and three large coins. Although she was still amped with the energy of the table and the Seal-Song combined, Evie's heart was heavy with disappointment. In desperation, Evie emptied the Seals onto the stone table and spread them out, counting as she went.

  Eight, still only eight.

  What did you think? That counting would make eight into nine?

  The next instant, a force stronger than all her Nephilim power buffeted Evie. The shockwave was so strong she staggered backward, struggling to stay on her feet. Just as suddenly, the force of the power reversed and began to pull Evie toward the table.

  Out of her line of sight, the Seals were skimming the surface of the table, swirling around the table as if they had a mind of their own. The Seals found individual little homes for themselves at the depressions at the eight corners. The Seals spun within the cells as if excited to be home. Evie's ears hummed and breathing was becoming a problem.

  The mysterious force tugged and pulled at her, insistent, unbreakable. Evie's progress was halted sharply as she slid, spread-eagled over the edge of the table. Her belt buckle caught at the lip at the edge of the table, straining against the magnetic pull.

  Just when she suspected there was a chance to break out of this demonic control, the metal of the buckle bent abruptly and Evie slid forward. She grasped at the smooth rock, scrabbling to dig her fingers into anything that might halt her progress.

  Evie was too shocked to scream. She watched as blood from her broken fingernails smeared the table. Invisible hands jerked her upward and she found herself flat on her back, hovering a foot above the table. She flailed in the air. Her wings pushed for freedom, and though she wanted to release them, she was unable to summon them.

  There was no time to be afraid.

  Evie turned her head, eager to find a way out. The Seals sang their haunting lullaby, glowing golden and spinning clockwise. Light flowed like a beacon from each seal, shooting to the stone ceiling. They still sang, louder, more beautiful, more haunting than ever.

  The sound penetrated the haze, which encased Evie like a silken cocoon. The music enchanted her. The sound of heavenly song. A slow vibration tapped at her breast, slowly increasing speed until it knocked crazily against her sternum. It sang through her bones and her blood, ramming her chest in a tattoo.

  Evie, alarmed at the rapid succession of the pounding on her chest, craned her neck to see what was stomping on her breastbone like a shaman doing a war dance. The leather thong around her neck was pulled taut, rubbing her neck raw. At the end of the thong, her medallion jumped in a wild frenzy.

  The medallion was a gift from her father, Gabriel. He left the pendant with Patrick for safekeeping until she'd reached her Turn—the time when a Nephilim embraces either the human or angel side. Evie kept the medallion close to her—much like she kept the memory of her father.

  Gabriel had entrusted Evie to Patrick's care when she was an infant. And though she understood his reasons, there were times when she wallowed in self-pity at her abandonment. Now she feared the very thing which held her to her father.

  The medallion rose above Evie until the thong pulled hard on her neck. Evie desperately tilted her head forward, hoping to give it a chance to slip off her neck. The thong was pulled off her head, lifting her hair with it as it was sent spinning upward. It hovered just out of her reach.

  Evie was spellbound as streams of light from each of the eight Seals began to bend and move toward the medallion. At last, all eight questing rays of light joined, forming a conical cage around Evie.

  Now the Nephilim was very afraid.

  Evie's wings pushed against her back, so painful she felt faint. Cool stone touched her back with a small thump. She was now lying on the table. The word altar may be more appropriate as she felt very much like a living sacrifice.

  A flash of white light and energy passed through Evie's body and blackness claimed her.

  Chapter 18

  Julian looked up from the book lying open on his lap, certain some strange sound had penetrated his concentration. There weren't many things able to distract him from a reading of Horace.

  There, he heard it again. The ringing of a bell, so sweet and delicate it could easily be mistaken for the light, airy song of a lyre. He sat upright and closed the book. He did not need to mark his page, as he knew exactly where he was in his reading. In fact, he knew the text by heart, having read it repeatedly for two thousand years.

  Julian swun
g open the door to his living area and tilted his head, keen to pinpoint the origin of the sound. The chimes rang through the walls of rock, up the soles of his feet. Most distracting. He followed the tunnel toward the Hall of Judgment, forced to hazard a guess as to the direction.

  Perhaps Persephone had arranged some entertainment in another attempt at winning his affections. Julian shook his head. When would she realize he had zero affection for her? That she had zero hope of gaining even one iota of his affection no matter what foolish attempt she made? He may have succeeded Hades in his role, but it certainly didn't mean he had to take Persephone as a wife.

  A frown marred his strong forehead as he followed the sound in the direction of the Ascension Hall. He began to compare the sound he heard reverberating around him now to the sound of the Seals on that day, two millennia ago, when Hades, God of the Underworld, had chosen a lucky young Roman as his replacement.

  Temporary, he'd said. Because he needed time to think, he'd said.

  Now, two thousand years later, one would think Hades would have had enough of his thinking. But the sounds of those Seals certainly didn't herald Hades’ return. Julian was sure it meant something entirely worse than the old king returning to take back his throne. Because the Seals did not make a god into a king.

  They made a human into a god.

  When he reached the huge stone door, Julian stopped in his tracks. The door was shut, as tight as it had always been. But a weak light shone from the gaps around the edges, as if even the beveled edges of the door had no power to stop the light from bending on its way out of the room.

  He grasped the knob and pushed the door with all his might, putting his shoulder into it. It swung open, slowly and silently. The room was the source of the ringing. Lilting chimes bounced back and forth against the hard stone walls, filling the room with music.

  Julian gasped, horrified. The hair on his body stood on end. Yes, the Seals had called him. And coming here, following the sound, had been a very, very bad idea. A girl lay prone and still upon the Ascension Table. A very beautiful girl surrounded by a golden, angelic glow. For the briefest second, Julian saw a pair of magnificent white and silver wings spread out beneath her, as she lay entranced by the Magic of the Seals. Julian blinked and the vision of the wings disappeared. He must have imagined it.

  The magic held the girl within a pyramid of eight streams of light and Julian wondered if it had looked like this when he received the throne of Hades. He had been just as unconscious as this girl, oblivious to his surroundings, as his entire life was wiped away and a new, never-ending existence was thrust upon him against his will.

  Now it was her turn.

  Evie sensed a presence in the room. She remained frozen on the table, unable to move her head to see who had entered. The dreaded sense of being so vulnerable surged through her limbs. Fresh air skimmed her body and she registered its light touch in spite of the hold which the Seals and their music had on her. The single medallion hovered above her hung like an all-seeing eye.

  Her medallion, which had lain against her heart for so many years. Evie felt the slight tug of betrayal on her soul. Did Gabriel know what it was that he'd left for her? And did he know the danger he'd put her in?

  Evie would have shuddered with anger if she had been able to move. She hoped she was wrong, hoped Gabriel had not been aware of how important the relic was.

  Evie blinked and felt the moisture in the hair above her ears. She had shed her first tears. The medallion had been an object loved and treasured for so long. Now, as she had no choice but to stare at it, she acknowledged that all along it had possessed a purpose beyond her tiny existence. The medallion was octagonal like the stone table. Each point held a small circle clearly meant to hold the stream of light which now passed through it. All eight beacons met above the medallion in one shimmering cone of glowing white.

  Her medallion seemed to be acting as the key to this entire—what was she supposed to call this whole thing anyway? Evie wasn't sure at all what had just happened. Perhaps it had a whole lot more to do with the Seals than it did with her. She hoped it did.

  She tried to remain calm, but it was a tiny bit difficult since she was trapped in this invisible pool of energy. That was a terrifying thought. With the luxury of her angelic blood gifting her with an indefinite lifespan, Evie had never before contemplated her death.

  The thought of meeting a permanent end thrust a sharp knife of pain into her gut. She still had so many things to do before she met her maker. There was Gabriel. And saving the Irin from Marcellus.

  And finding Hades to return his Seals.

  Of course, Hades might not be a very happy dude once he found out about this whole Seal-singing light display.

  Evie struggled to move her head but—nothing. She had to know who had entered the room. What did they want? Fear coursed through her veins. She was unable to move, and a total stranger stood there with her.

  A sudden surge of energy caught Evie's attention as the Seals ceased their song in one burst of dead silence. The air grew heavy, dense, pressing on her lungs. Even the thin strobes of light which shone from each Seal fell back into itself like a fountain of white waves.

  As suddenly as the chimes fell into silence, so did they spring to life again, more urgent, this time. Out of each Seal rose a dark mass that resembled the Seal itself. Each splotch of black rose, spinning and swirling on its journey toward Evie. She stiffened. The destination of the eight spinning splotches was her.

  She struggled against the invisible field that still held her prisoner. As they floated to her, they grew darker and more defined and Evie recognized them as the script engraved on the rim of each Seal. The crazy spinning increased, until Evie began to feel queasy just looking at them.

  They swirled around her body, hovering as if uncertain of their final destination. At last, they pooled around her right arm, lowering slowly while still spinning in an almost uncontrollable dance. Just when they got to within an inch of Evie's arm, all eight oscillating dark orbs disappeared. Evie sighed, relieved and hoping that was the last she would see of them. But as she relaxed, sharp, agonizing, burning pain shafted through her forearm, so full and intense it struck her right to the bone.

  Dear God, let the pain end.

  And when it didn't, Evie went to grasp the edge of her leather jacket to pull it off her before she realized she could move. A deep sense of foreboding enveloped her. The burning and the absence of the Seals' song didn't mean anything good. Finally, she was able to move. She tore the jacket off and she rolled up the sleeve of her shirt.

  Evie couldn't breathe when she saw her forearm. In spite of the agony blistering her skin, the sight of the angelic script engraved into her very skin filled her with a deep sense of peace and tranquility.

  Until she saw who'd entered the room.

  She needn't have feared his presence. One look at his face and it was clear he meant her no harm. But the look in his eyes made her stomach twist. He held his forearm in exactly the same place Evie now felt the strange burn biting into her skin.

  She watched him, entranced by the strangely compelling expression on his face and his odd movements. He rolled up his sleeve, the cream silk folding over softly, to reveal his own strong, muscular marked forearm.

  His markings were faint lines of scars rather than a tattoo, while hers were dark and prominent.

  Chapter 19

  Julian stared at his forearm, shocked, worried and terrified. Who was this girl and what had she just done?

  The Marks of Hades which had been emblazoned upon his skin for the last two millennia had faded. Much more like an old tattoo rather than the deep, dark angelic script he'd been so used to seeing for all these years. Julian's eyes were drawn to the girl's own slim, almost fragile forearm where thick, black scrawls swirled and curved around her pale skin. The pain, creasing the corners of her eyes and washing out the color from her skin, confirmed his greatest fear.

  The mantle of the Ruler of the
Underworld had just been passed to this young girl. A girl whose eyes seemed to call to him, whose pain made him want to reach out and caress her cheek, to promise her it would soon get better.

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?" Julian's voice shook. He was unsure which was stronger—his anger, his attraction or his fear. How would a mere girl survive the turmoil of the living hell he had undergone for so many centuries? And, even worse, how would he be able to adjust to a mortal life now? After all these centuries? Would he soon shrivel up and die? Would he not soon turn into a pile of dust?

  The girl sat on the cold stone. Despite the strength and courage in her face, her slim arms quivered. She didn't answer his question. Just sat there dazed, in shock. Julian closed the distance between them and stood in front of her until she was forced to lift her face and look at him.

  When she did, he was mesmerized. Even from within the depths of his confusion and fear, Julian felt himself caught up in something much bigger and stronger than he was. A whirlpool of emotions that he'd sworn had died hundreds of years before swirled within him.

  Her eyes were a clear, bright blue like the sea on a sun-drenched day. Her hair fell from its tie, thick and black and luxurious. Although fear filled those eyes, he also recognized strength and confusion. She felt very much the same as he did.

  "How did you get here?" This time his tone was softer, thinking more about her feelings than his own potential mortality.

  "I came to find Hades." She cast her eyes about as if she still searched for him.

  "What do you want with him?" Julian's eyes narrowed. This was not a common occurrence. Hades had not had a guest in what…forever now?

  "I had to give him something… but…" She hesitated and looked at the stone table, brow furrowed. "But…I think I may be too late."