Prison of Horrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 6)

by Sonya Bateman

  “Constable,” the closest one said. “Agent Frost says they caught the prisoners. Any word on how much longer we’re staying out here?”

  Quentin flashed a grim expression. “Not long at all.”

  In the next breath, two guns went off. The third man hadn’t even reached for his weapon when I grabbed him and plunged the dagger into his chest.

  There was a gasp from the general direction of the pastors, and on the heels of that, a stuttering electric sound. And a thud.

  Now, Quentin and I leaned against the side of someone’s car and Winifred sat on the edge of an open tailgate with her eyes closed, spying on Malphas. Pastor Lennox had holed up with his now-unarmed and somewhat groggy copy in the constable’s truck to talk things over — with the taser handy, in case the other him wasn’t feeling cooperative. So far we hadn’t seen any sparks.

  Winifred shivered back to herself. “Well, you were right,” she said heavily. “He didn’t fall for the story, and now he’s got her with the rest of the examples.”

  I figured that. Didn’t make it any easier to hear. “How are they holding up?”

  “Not well. But he has emptied out the church, so now all the copies are in the town square.”

  Just then, the truck door opened and Pastor Lennox headed toward us. The real one, his clothes still torn and filthy from the imprisonment. He stopped and made a weary gesture. “He’ll do it,” he said. “With one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If we promise to make sure his body is dead before we close the gate.” The pastor’s eyes gleamed from his haunted face. “So Malphas can’t torture him anymore.”

  I suppressed a shudder. “All right,” I said. “We’ll make sure.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  As he walked back toward the truck, Winifred slid to the ground and produced the hex charm from wherever she’d put it. “Gideon, can you make this look like your pendant?” she said.

  “Sure. But … you want to have him wear that?” I said. “I mean, it cancels magic. And glamour is magic.”

  “Well, it doesn’t exactly cancel magic. It prevents magic, from the inside out. It’s basically a seal.” She held the medallion up and inspected it. “Whoever’s wearing it can still be affected by outside magic. But theoretically, it should block Malphas from casting whatever spells demons use. Including the one for leaving a body.”

  “So he’d be stuck in the fake pastor,” I said. “Theoretically.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, then.” At this point, any advantage would help. Even a theoretical one. That was what the hex charm did to me — locked the magic inside. But I’d found a way to use it anyway, and I suspected Malphas could get around it somehow, too. At least this would probably make him less effective.

  Then we’d only have to fight a less effective demon. And forty minions.

  I didn’t notice Pastor Lennox coming back with his copy in tow until one of them said, “You’re sure he’s one of them? I thought they’d be … taller.”

  Looking at the two of them side by side made me a little dizzy. Even with one more rumpled than the other, not even identical twins were that … well, identical. Hell, they were breathing at the same time, and their blinks were synchronized to the second.

  Facing myself might be a whole lot weirder than I thought. And I’d already thought it was completely bizarre.

  “Er. One of who?” I finally said.

  “The Fair Folk,” the cleaner version said, breaking the disconcerting sameness between them. “I didn’t realize that’s what you were. Malphas kept calling you a Death Talker, whatever that is. You just seem short for what you are.”

  “DeathSpeaker. And I’m only half Fae,” I said. “But my brother’s all Fae and about eight feet tall, if that helps.”

  He gave a wan smile. “That’s more like it.”

  “Listen, I’m … sorry.” Damn. What were you supposed to say to someone who’d just agreed to die, so you wouldn’t have to? ‘Thanks for taking one for the team’ didn’t seem appropriate. He might not have a soul, but he obviously had feelings — if he didn’t, he’d never have gone along with this. “I really am. I don’t—”

  He held a hand up to stop me. “Please, don’t apologize. I want to die.” He glanced at the bodies we’d dragged away from the light and drew in a shaking breath. “All of us do, even if it doesn’t seem that way from the outside,” he said. “We know what we are, what we’re missing. We were created to serve Malphas, and no one thought there was a way out. Until now. You’re doing us a favor … especially me.”

  I tried not to look as horrified as I felt. “Why you, especially?”

  This time his smile was grim. “Because when I die, I get to take that unholy bastard with me.”

  I had to admire that. It was the way I’d choose to go out, too.

  CHAPTER 36

  I spent most of the drive toward the center of town in the back seat between two pastors, coaching Lennox on being me.

  “I’m pretty much a sarcastic asshole,” I said. “At least, when I’m talking to bad guys. And if I agreed to let him possess me, I’d have demands. He’ll expect them, and he’ll know I won’t back down. Because he’s me.” Christ, I’d never get used to that idea. “He has to let the people go. All of them.”

  Lennox frowned. “Do you think he’ll really do that?”

  “No, he won’t. He’ll negotiate,” I said. “And I wouldn’t accept it right away. But eventually I’d settle for him releasing all the people he’s been torturing, and healing them. He can do that, because I can.” I considered that for a minute and came up with something else. “Point out that he should heal them with my copy, before he switches bodies, so he’s at full strength when he takes me over.”

  And so my copy would be weaker. Because I’d have to kill him, too. Even though he was me, I had no idea how he’d react once the demon was out of him — I’d never been faced with this particular problem.

  With an uncertain glance, Lennox said, “I see.”

  “Well, you probably don’t. But that’s okay.” Even I was having trouble following my train of thought by now. “Just run through the basics for me, so I can make sure you’ve got it.”

  “I tell him…” He sighed and shook his head. “Maybe you should give me the exact words to say.”

  “No good. Then you’ll sound rehearsed.”

  “All right.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I tell him that he can have you — I mean, me — but he has to let everyone go. He’ll say no, I’ll insist. Then I’ll agree if he releases and heals the people he tortured, before he possesses you. Me.”

  Shit. This wasn’t going so well. “Look, you have to be me. Starting now,” I said. “If you’re not convinced, he’s not going to be convinced.”

  “Listen to me,” the pastor said calmly, leaning forward to look at the other him. “Do you remember our Easter sermon, fifteen years ago? The year our mother—”

  “Passed away.” Lennox was already nodding. “We were furious with God, and we nearly left the calling. The sermon ran long.”

  “Yes, and everyone paid attention the whole time. We were on fire. Still passionate about the Word, more than usual, but angry enough to show it. Remember the line after the service?”

  “The whole congregation. We stood there for hours, talking to everyone. They all wanted to compliment the sermon. Yes … I remember.”

  Okay, this ‘we’ stuff was getting creepy. “Guys, is there a point here?”

  “He knows what I’m getting at,” the pastor said.

  “I do.” Lennox’s face changed in a blink. “You can have me, you bastard,” he thundered. “If you let them go.”

  My jaw dropped into my lap. “Holy shit,” I said. “Think that’s the first time I’ve actually seen wrath.”

  “So I’ve got it, then?” he said.

  “Yeah. You got it.”

  We were officially as ready as we could get. I jus
t hoped it was enough.

  CHAPTER 37

  Malphas had the entire town in chains.

  I only caught a glimpse of the scene as our group ran for the cover of the closest building, the town hall at the back of the gathering. It was enough. Most of the population huddled miserably on the cobblestone floor of the square, divided into two rough sections with an aisle down the center. They were chained together in smaller, random bunches—three here, ten there, seven here. Some had collars, others had cuffs. Adults consoled children, mothers desperately soothed babies. A large number of them wept openly.

  Blazing torches flanked the crowd, and armed men and women stood watch just outside the circle of torchlight.

  Malphas was on the platform at the far end, still wearing my body. Poles had been erected along the back of the stage. Six of them, each with someone tied to it — on their knees with their arms above their heads. I didn’t have to make out their faces to know that one of them was Frost.

  Just as we reached the back of the town hall, a voice — my voice — split the air. “Míilé lahn!”

  A man screamed. The sound went on for eternity before it ramped down to hoarse sobbing. I didn’t know who he’d cast it on, but I knew the spell. A thousand cuts.

  It took everything not to rush out there and attack the son of a bitch, right then.

  We’d parked several blocks away so no one would hear the engine. I’d already glamoured Lennox into me, complete with the hex charm that was now a moonstone. And I’d transformed myself into Constable Garber. At first I’d planned to go with the pastor, but his copy was supposed to be guarding the bridge. It was more believable for the constable to bring ‘me’ in, since he’d been out looking for me.

  No one but Frost could’ve told the demon that the constable’s clone was dead. She wouldn’t have — and now that she had a soul, he couldn’t possess her and find out.

  “All right,” I whispered. “Everyone know what we’re doing?”

  Solemn nods responded. Quentin, Victor and Winifred would hang back while Lennox and I approached Malphas, ready to take on the mob of copies when all hell broke loose. No matter what happened to either of me.

  I drew a final, bracing breath. “Let’s go, then.”

  With that, I grabbed my decoy by the arm and marched him off to the square.

  The murmurs and cries and shuffling, scraping movement of the crowd turned off like a switch when Lennox and I started down the aisle, and every head turned toward us. Even the wind seemed to stop blowing. The only sound was our footsteps on the stones.

  Malphas noticed. He turned away from taunting one of his captives, a terrible grin on his face that spread as we drew closer. I’d never seen that expression on my own face, but I still recognized it. I could feel it. Cold and merciless, pure Fae.

  Only his had a little demon mixed in for good measure.

  Soon enough, the grin faltered. Whatever he said would tell me how screwed we were, but I thought I could throw him off just a little if I got the first words out. With ten feet between me and the platform, I shoved Lennox-Me roughly forward and growled, “This little asshole has something to say.”

  Malphas-Me’s lip curled. “Why isn’t he restrained?” he demanded.

  “Because I came to agree.”

  The relief that Malphas apparently believed what he saw didn’t have time to set in before Lennox spat the words at him, with the perfect mixture of disgust and defeat.

  “Oh, did you?” The grin popped up again. “Honestly, I thought about killing you,” he said. “You were making things so tedious, it seemed like a better idea to just wait for the next DeathSpeaker … and like I said, I’ve got time. But then you sent me her.” He flicked a gesture, and Frost screamed.

  “Stop that, you son of a bitch.”

  For one horrified instant, I thought I’d actually said that — which would’ve been Quentin saying it. But the words came from Lennox.

  “What a wonderful trick you’ve pulled with your girlfriend,” Malphas went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Removing the soul from her dead body, and putting it into this one. Now I want that power more than ever.”

  “Well, here I am,” Lennox ground out. “You want me? Take me. But you can’t have them, too. Understand?”

  “I’m not following.” The cold mockery in his tone shivered my spine. “Are you trying to make demands?”

  Lennox took a step forward. “I’ll use smaller words,” he said. “If you want me, you have to let these people go. All of them.”

  Damn. He really had gotten into this. I almost touched my mouth to make sure I wasn’t the one talking.

  Malphas laughed — but it wasn’t my voice this time. That hollow, soul-crushing sound was pure demon. “All of them,” he repeated in disbelief. “Come now, DeathSpeaker. I’m in your head. You can’t possibly believe I’d give up all my toys, just for you.”

  Lennox glared at him. “If you’re in my head, you know I’m not going to back down on this,” he said. “Let them go. Or you’ll just have to kill me and wait for the next one.” He flashed a perfect, insolent smile. “How long will it be, Malphas? Years? Decades?”

  The sheer frustration on demon-me’s face said Lennox had pushed the right button. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you what. You can have them.” He waved an arm at the bound figures behind him. “Including your precious Frost.”

  “Everyone, or no deal.”

  Way to go. He’d remembered to hold out.

  “You get them, or no one. And don’t think I won’t kill you.”

  With a stricken look, Lennox swept a gaze across the line of prisoners. Finally, he said, “Turn them loose, and heal them. And I’ll do it.”

  Malphas sneered. “If you want them healed, you do it.”

  Panic wormed into me. What if he demanded a demonstration, a proof of contract thing? I hadn’t even mentioned how healing worked. If Lennox had known, he could’ve gone through the motions while I supplied the magic. Healing didn’t require words. But he had no idea.

  Just then, Lennox snorted in disgust. “Either you don’t have a brain of your own, or you’re not using mine,” he said. “Do you really want me to waste my power when you’re about to take over this body?”

  The sneer lifted into a smile. “Good point.”

  I just about sagged in relief.

  Malphas snapped his fingers. The ropes holding the prisoners raveled apart, and they went down at various speeds. The demon gestured at each of them in turn, and then said, “All right. Get up.”

  They did. At least none of them looked too badly injured, though there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re all free to go,” Malphas said. “Just as soon as I take control of my new body.”

  Lennox shuddered. I had a feeling he wasn’t acting that one out. “You’d better keep your end of the deal, you bastard,” he said.

  “A demon never backs out of a deal. We have that in common, at least.” He stepped from the edge of the platform, approached Lennox and stopped in front of him. My head actually throbbed looking at two versions of me facing off. Malphas held a hand out, and when Lennox took it, he squeezed. Hard. “Say it,” he snarled.

  “Say what?”

  “Say, ‘I welcome you in, Malphas’.”

  Lennox’s throat bobbed once. “I welcome you in,” he said roughly. “Malphas.”

  A grin snaked across the demon’s face as he tugged the decoy forward.

  And kissed him.

  It was a damned deep kiss. Open mouth, free hand at the back of his head. Lennox jerked stiff for an instant, struggled briefly. His eyes bulged and flashed bright red. Then his hands started jittering, and one foot tapped a mad staccato on the cobblestones.

  As long as I lived, whether it was thirty seconds or three hundred years from now, I would never forget the sight of me giving myself tongue.

  They broke apart with a crack like thunder. The one who’d been on the platform, who I had to assume was
no longer possessed, shook himself and pressed a hand to his head. His eyes narrowed on the glamoured Lennox as he held an arm out.

  “Seabh’fóhs!” he shouted. And Lennox, who was probably a demon now, froze.

  My copy was about to attack what he thought was me.

  CHAPTER 38

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  The words were out before my brain could catch up with them. I had to fight to keep from reflexively dropping the Quentin glamour, in case something had gone wrong. If it had, there was almost no chance of salvaging things — but there was zero chance with the ruse revealed.

  “Er.” Not-Me squinted in my direction. “Gideon?”

  I blinked a few times. “Also Gideon … sort of?” I said. “Are you still possessed?”

  “No. Did I ruin your plan?”

  “Not exactly.” I came close to breathing a sigh of relief, but a thought occurred that stopped me. He could still be Malphas and lying about it.

  “You think I’m lying,” my copy said. “Damn. I wouldn’t believe me, either.”

  “You’d better not be. I will stomp my own ass if I have to.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Goddamn it.” I was peripherally aware of the tension and confusion filling the square around us. The freed hostages were bunching together, moving across the platform slowly. The crowd rippled with whispers and mumbling. And the guards on the outside moved with agitated steps, hands on their guns. “Well, I don’t know—”

  “How I can prove it.” Not-Me grimaced, and his outstretched arm shook. He nodded at Lennox. “Does that work?”

  I looked. Lennox’s frozen body was crawling with red lightning.

  I definitely couldn’t do that.

  “Oh, shit,” I breathed, and dropped the glamour spells. Now it was the pastor standing there with a snarl stamped on his face, wreathed in demon-power, or whatever that stuff was. And I was me, just like the other me. “Okay. I believe you,” I said.