Prison of Horrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 6)

by Sonya Bateman

  “Good. Now what?”

  Something rumbled across the sky. Both of me looked up to find a thick, black cloud forming directly over Malphas’s head, billowing and spreading rapidly. Flashes of red sizzled through the underbelly.

  It was blotting out the moon.

  “Kill them all,” a deafening voice that seemed to come from the clouds commanded.

  Peals of thunder split the sky, like the finale in a Fourth of July fireworks display. Dozens of red bolts streaked down at once and struck every copy simultaneously — including mine. He snarled and fell to one knee, jaw clenching.

  But he didn’t drop his arm.

  I had just enough time to see that the clones all sparked and popped with lightning now, just like Malphas, before a piercing battle cry floated across the square. Winifred.

  That was when the gunfire started.

  The other Gideon was back on his feet. We glanced at each other, nodded once, and each held a hand out toward the helpless, chained crowd. “Cruihnn à dionadth!” we shouted in the same breath. It was a shield spell I’d never cast before, but I knew it was the one we needed. We both did.

  A translucent dome formed around the crowd, flashing randomly as the demon lightning bounced off the surface.

  My copy had both arms out, trying to hold the shield and the paralysis spell. He was already struggling. No way he could keep that up. “Look,” I said. “I’ll stay—”

  “Gideon!” The breathless voice behind me belonged to Frost. “I … well, damn. Which one’s which?”

  “I’m me.” I glanced back at her and waved a little. “Brought a spare gun. Back pocket. We have to take down everyone who’s currently electrified.”

  I felt her take it. “You coming?” she said uncertainly.

  “I’d better help him. You guys can handle them.” I hope.

  “No. I’ve got this.”

  I stared at the other Gideon. He was still crawling with lightning, and his entire body shook with effort and pain. But his eyes were steel determination.

  I frowned. I knew my own limits, and this was going to exceed them. Fast. “I’m not sure you do,” I said. “We’ve got help out there—”

  “Nothing is going to happen to these people. And Malphas isn’t going anywhere,” he hammered out. “I promise.”

  The words tied knots in my stomach. Damn it, he shouldn’t have said that. He knew it, because I knew it. It was a promise he couldn’t possibly keep. He’d just sentenced himself to death.

  But he knew that, too.

  I managed a stiff nod. “All right. We’ll make this fast.”

  Incredibly, he grinned. “I know you will.”

  It was a lot harder than I expected to leave him there.

  CHAPTER 39

  The demon-fried copies proved harder to kill than regular humans.

  Frost and I dove right into the fray. She was firing long before we reached close combat range, and she’d already hit two of them. But only one stayed down — the one she’d nailed with a head shot.

  The other kept coming in a mad frenzy, despite the gaping wound in his gut. It took two more bullets to drop him.

  “Damn. Did he turn them into zombies or something?” Frost shouted as she took careful aim at another one, a woman. The shot snapped her head back, and she collapsed in a buzzing heap.

  One of them was rushing me. I grabbed him, and it felt like holding a live power line. But I held on long enough to bury the dagger in his throat — moving my target up from his chest at the last second, since not even a gut shot was enough to stop them. “Zombies?” I panted, trying to shake off the lingering buzz. “Don’t touch them, by the way.”

  “Got it,” she said. “Yeah, zombies. Head shots.” She fired again, and another one dropped. “The Walking Dead?”

  “Um … that’s a TV show, right?”

  “Seriously?”

  “We can’t get cable at the Castle. Or Netflix.” I’d been trying to save my magic for Malphas, since he’d obviously have plenty of fight left in him. But if I kept going hand-to-hand, I wouldn’t be on my feet for long. I focused on a group of three sparking minions and shoved a hand out. “Mahrú à dionadth.”

  My least favorite spell. Still, they didn’t get back up when the shield crushed them.

  Frost pulled the trigger and swore as one of them spun, staggered, and kept moving. “You don’t happen to have another clip for this thing, do you?” she said. Her next shot took the wounded copy down.

  “No.” The targets around us were thinning out a bit. I crushed another one, cringing as I threw the shield, and tried to assess the situation. Most of the remaining copies were on this side of the shield dome, between Frost and I, and Winifred and Pastor Lennox. The pastor had the shotgun and stood half-blocking Winifred as she threw spells and dropped bodies, one by one. But she was getting tired.

  I didn’t see Quentin anywhere. Red flashes across the dome said there were more on the other side, so he was probably over there.

  “I’m gonna guess there’s more zombies than bullets,” Frost said, and fired another shot. “You want to give me that blade when they’re gone? You’ve got magic.”

  I shook my head and blasted someone into bloody paste. I really needed to learn another lethal spell, one that wasn’t so messy. “You can’t get that close to them. It’s like grabbing lightning.”

  “I’ll probably live—”

  “Look out!”

  The shout came from behind us. We both spun in time to see Nova Davenport, brandishing a dead torch at two copies with their guns pointed at us. The girl spoke a few words, and sparks sputtered from the end of the torch.

  The copies fell to the ground, twitched a few times, and stopped breathing.

  “Holy shit,” Nova blurted. “It worked.”

  I started to smile, when Frost aimed her gun at the girl. “Down!”

  Nova dropped, and Frost shot the electrified man who’d been coming up behind the girl. Then she huffed at the gun. “Great. Pretty sure it’s empty now.”

  “It’s okay,” I said slowly, panning a gaze across the square. “I don’t think you need it anymore.”

  On this side, at least, every copy was down. There was a weak red flicker on the other side — but a single gunshot rang out, and the light sputtered and faded away. For a moment, the only sounds in the world were harsh breathing and the discontented rumble of the clouds that still blanketed the sky.

  Across the terrified and silent crowd, I made out Quentin, bleeding and limping along with the support of Nicholas Davenport.

  Then I realized I could only see them so clearly because the shield was down.

  Not good. If my copy wasn’t able to keep that spell up, he couldn’t maintain the other one either. He would’ve chosen keeping the people safe over preventing Malphas from destroying his enemies, starting with the closest one — him.

  The demon was free.

  CHAPTER 40

  I looked toward the platform. Pastor Malphas, still swarming with red lightning, advanced on the other Gideon. “You,” he snarled. “You’re mine. How dare you defy me!”

  My copy stumbled back, gasping. “Wasn’t that hard,” he panted. “I just thought, what would I do if I was me, and not some filthy, soulless pawn of a demon?”

  His hand went behind his back. There was a flash of metal as he brought it around and plunged a copy of the dagger into Malphas’s side. Lightning jumped and swirled around his arm, but he held on grimly as the demon howled and wavered, gushing thick red smoke instead of blood.

  “This,” the other Gideon intoned. “This is what I’d do, you evil fuck.”

  With a tremendous roar of pure rage, Malphas grabbed him — and swung him around like a Frisbee. He sailed over the entire crowd of townspeople and crashed hard on the cobblestones just in front of the town statue with a horrible, crunching thud.

  I was already running for the bastard. “Go help me! I mean, him!” I called back to Frost. If she responded, I didn�
��t hear her. There was nothing but me and Malphas now.

  And I’d promised he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Malphas turned toward me. His nasty grin was somehow worse, stamped on the face of Pastor Lennox. “How many times do I have to kill you?” he said.

  “Not happening.” I gestured sharply at him. “Míilé brihs!”

  It was a stronger spell than the thousand knives he’d used on the captives, and it took more out of me. But it did more damage, too. He gave a harsh shout and dropped to one knee as a thousand cuts slashed him, dribbling more of that thick red smoke.

  With the moon hidden behind the clouds, and the magic I’d already expended, my spark was flagging. But I still had the moonstone.

  I’d no sooner folded a hand around it than Malphas lunged at me, driving an electrified stone fist into my gut.

  My feet actually lifted from the ground with the blow. I flew back a few feet and landed hard on my ass, driving the breath from my lungs in a harsh bark. Before I could draw more air, another fist broke my nose.

  There was a blinding flash of pain. Blood gushed down my face, and I had to squeeze my hand to make sure I was still holding the pendant. I yanked the cord free, screaming a little when the movement jostled shattered bone, and forced myself to my feet.

  The world swam in front of me, and I barely avoided another blow headed for my face. I sidestepped and lifted the moonstone. “Calhaiom’nae solaas geahlí,” I drawled in a voice like a foghorn.

  The familiar blue-white glow calmed me enough to steady my hands as moonlight poured from them to form a gleaming sword. I gripped it two-handed, lifted it over my head and plunged it through Malphas.

  He collapsed on his knees. The red lightning danced around him, swirling down to earth itself harmlessly into the ground. Actual blood seeped around the glowing blade of the sword.

  I had to plant a foot on his chest and yank with both arms to pull the moonstone out.

  “Gideon.”

  Someone touched my shoulder, and I spun and nearly cleaved Winifred’s skull before I recognized her. “Yeah, that’s me,” I said, panting as I lowered the bloody sword. “I think.”

  “Yes. You’re still you.” She looked as exhausted as I felt. Pastor Lennox was just behind her, still carrying the shotgun. Quentin, Nicholas and Nova stood a few feet to the side. “And we’re still here,” she said gently. “Let us help you.”

  There was a groan from the vicinity of the demon. I tensed and faced him, ready to slice off something vital.

  He was shaking all over. His eyes were storms — the human kind.

  “He’s still in me.” The thin, gritted words that tumbled from his lips belonged to Lennox’s copy. “Weakened. Not for long, though.” His body shivered, and he raised his head with tremendous effort to look at the real Pastor Lennox. “You promised.”

  Pastor Lennox blanched. “Yes. I did.”

  I shuddered and started to lift the sword. “You don’t have to,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

  “No.” He brushed me aside firmly and stood in front of the kneeling copy, his eyes glittering. “Thank you,” he said to his other self.

  A bloodless smile stretched the lips of the other Lennox. He grabbed the end of the shotgun and pressed it to his chest. “Please,” he said. “Now.”

  I managed to turn away just before the blast erupted like a cannon.

  In the long moment of silence that followed, I mouthed the single word to deactivate the sword of moonlight and returned the pendant carefully to its place. My nose was still extremely broken, but Malphas’s black clouds were dissipating overhead. I’d be able to heal soon enough.

  Though some of the damage around here was never going to heal.

  “We still have to bring him to the gate,” Pastor Lennox said in a breaking voice.

  Quentin and Nicholas moved to join him. Without a word, the three of them lifted the still body and headed for the church. Winifred and Nova followed.

  I’d just made a conscious decision to breathe again when a figure running toward me caught my attention. Frost. She grabbed my hand, pulled me along in the opposite direction, and I was moving before my brain thought to question what’d happened now.

  She told me anyway. “He’s dying.”

  And by ‘he’, she meant me.

  CHAPTER 41

  It didn’t take long for mass confusion to replace the quiet. As I made my way with Frost to the back of the crowd, the other three people who’d been held on the platform moved among the living, murmuring comfort and unlocking chains — with keys that they must have gotten from the dead copies.

  The other Gideon was propped up against the base of the Founding Fathers statue, far back from the crowd. Bleeding profusely, one shoulder several inches lower than the other and the arm dangling limp. Eyes open and focused on nothing, pointed teeth bared in a bloody grimace. No glamour at all.

  I dropped next to him, and Frost knelt on the other side. She was barely holding back tears. “He says he promised something,” she whispered. “Did he?”

  “Yeah. He did.” I knew exactly why, too. When a Fae made a promise, it wanted to be kept — so as long as they tried to keep it, they were able to exceed their capabilities. Without the promise, he never would’ve maintained those spells as long as he had.

  But he’d burned himself out in the process. And broken the promise.

  Doing that killed us.

  “Hey, look. It’s me.” He rasped the words as his gaze tried to focus. “I see you broke our nose.” An attempted smile pulled into a wince. “Did we win?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Knew it.” His eyes fluttered closed, but he forced them open with a start and looked at me. “You know … what comes next.”

  The knots in my stomach made a fierce comeback. “I can heal you,” I blurted. “The moon’s out.”

  “You could. But you’re not going to.”

  I shuddered and stared at the ground.

  “Why not?” That was Frost, desperate and breathless. “I know how you feel. Believe me,” she said, taking his hand with care. “But this isn’t right. He doesn’t have to…”

  “He does. And he knows it.” His head swiveled slowly to face her, and his smile was painful to look at. “He’s the one who belongs here,” he said. “With you. And there’s something he needs to tell you.”

  Her tears finally spilled on a shivering breath. “What is it?” she whispered.

  Damn it. I knew exactly what he meant, and I wanted to hate him for bringing it up. But I couldn’t. “This isn’t exactly a great time,” I murmured.

  “Don’t make me tell her. Because I will.”

  “I’ll do it. Just … not yet. Soon.”

  “Promise?”

  I only hesitated for a few seconds. “Yeah,” I said. “I promise.”

  “Good.” His eyelids drooped, and he struggled to open them again. “Now … you know.”

  “Look, man.” I had to force the words out. “I do know, but it doesn’t have to go down like this. Let me heal you, and then …”

  “Then what?”

  I exhaled slowly. “I have no idea.”

  “Exactly. Taeral never told us how long it takes for a broken promise to kill you.” The sound he made was almost a laugh. “I don’t want to find out. I want you to do it.” His jaw firmed, and his blue eyes flashed. “I don’t want to remember what that bastard made me do. I can’t live with it. And this way, you don’t have to.”

  Yeah. I knew that, too.

  “Come on, man. You were ready to die to stop this before.” He waited until I looked at him again. “We don’t back down,” he said. “Ever.”

  I pulled myself together and gripped his shoulder, the one that wasn’t dislocated. “No,” I said. “We don’t.”

  Relief flooded his eyes, and he nodded once.

  There was only one way I knew how to end this, and it wasn’t pleasant. “Calla,” I said thickly without looking at her. “Don’t watch. Please.”<
br />
  I sensed rather than saw her stand and walk a few paces away. My vision blurred as I pressed my other hand against his chest, and I couldn’t even fool myself into blaming the tears on my broken nose. “I’ll make this fast,” I said.

  He smiled. “I know you will.”

  I could’ve closed my eyes, but I refused. If I had to do this, I was going to watch. And remember. I focused on my remaining magic and directed it until blue fire traced my hand. When I pushed harder, my hand sank into his flesh, past bone and muscle to the guttered remains of his spark lying against his heart.

  A grating cry escaped me as I pulled it out. His body went slack, and his last breath ribboned from his lips.

  Though it wouldn’t do any good, I replaced the bloody chunk of flesh where it belonged. It seemed wrong not to leave him as whole as I could. Still gripping his shoulder, I closed my eyes and bowed my head. “Is féider leis an éirí an bóthar leat,” I whispered.

  Maybe there was no road that would rise to meet him, but I chose to believe in the possibility.

  He’d earned it.

  CHAPTER 42

  The bonfire in the town square blazed higher than most of the buildings.

  Frost and I sat on the ground, close enough to feel the warmth without getting singed. We’d been careful to sit upwind of the fire, though. It was still a few hours before dawn. I’d wanted to stay in the moonlight, make sure I was fully healed and charged. And for now, I didn’t really want to be around anyone else.

  The town of Lightning Cove was slowly reclaiming itself. Nicholas, Quentin and Pastor Lennox had taken charge, directing everyone into the town hall as a temporary breathing place until they felt ready to go home. Those who’d managed to pull themselves together had pitched in, either making runs for food, drinks and blankets, or cleaning up outside.

  They were burning the bodies.

  I’d done my part, as unpleasant as it was stacking human remains like cordwood. At first I’d refused to let them have the other Gideon’s body. It was purely selfish. Every one of those bodies had an original that someone knew and loved, and I was no different. But I still didn’t want him thrown in there with the rest like so much trash.