I felt sick. So he wasn't as young and inexperienced as Warren thought. I followed his gaze to where Nicki was held by a sickly looking Fae. The same as before. Neither of them would hold my gaze. Controlled. I knew that. I wondered exactly how angry they were about that. The one on the left seemed to be losing his hair.
"Where's Callum?"
"The Nephilim?" he said. "Ah yes, that was a surprise. I had no idea you were hiding such a source of power."
"Where. Is. He?"
Rory crossed one ankle over the other. "Presently he's being fed a diet of dreams while my fae siphons his energy. I can't plug-in, you understand, but he can. Your Nephilim's pretty much a universal donor."
I licked my lips nervously. I hadn't counted on Rory using Callum that way. I had forgotten and now felt ashamed I'd brought him into all this.
"You either show him or no deal."
He sighed audibly, but then he flicked his wrist and the air in front of the fae wavered. At his feet was a curled up and unconscious Callum. He looked ragged, almost like Warren had looked in the days before I had taken his life. He was pale and gaunt.
Sarah coughed herself awake, and looked sideways at me.
"Ayla?" she whispered through a scorched sounding throat.
I heard my breath hiss out in relief and sank down on my haunches She was okay. She was alive. I expected the relief to bring a smile to her face, but instead she started to cry. The fire behind me was warming my back uncomfortably. I could feel the sweat drying even as it moved its way through my tissues. My shirt where it touched my skin burned. None of that mattered. Sarah was safe and alive. I had done it.
"We did it," I said to her. "We brought you back."
All she could do was nod her head through her tears. I could tell she was still trying to gather her words. Still trying to find a way to believe that she had escaped hell. I watched her swallow down four or five times before she managed to stop trembling.
"I can't move," she said.
"I know," I said, looking sideways at Rory. "He has you pinned somehow."
Her eyes rolled around as they took in the drawn circle on the crypt floor that I hadn't noticed at first. She nodded. Then she jerked her chin in the direction of the flame behind me.
"What's that?"
I shrugged. "It was our way home."
I thought she teared up at sight of it, but it might have just been the heat. Or the stench. The smell of sulfur was enough to make me gag.
"You said we," Sarah said. "Who helped you?"
Azrael, I started to say, but I realized as I thought of him that he hadn't returned with me. Part of me was worried and the other part thought that maybe the angel had decided he'd done enough to help a necromancer he should have reaped. If I thought more, it was thankfully interrupted as Rory clapped his hands together.
"Come now," he said. "Time is wasting. Let's get things started."
Sarah's eyes strained toward him. She shook her head. I swallowed down hard.
"I can't do it," she said. "It's not right."
Give her points for courage, but at this point, what did it matter? She couldn't know Rory only had two parts of the spell or that he'd be dead long before he could complete it. Just let him release Callum and Nicki, and he was toast. I surreptitiously glanced about for Warren's cold forged iron blade.
"It's alright, Sarah," I said, trying to tell her with my eyes that we were still just buying time.
She shook her head again, the silky black tresses settled over one shoulder, letting the ghost of her roots show through plainly.
While I thought Rory might be angry, he just appeared resigned. Crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.
"I thought you might say that," he said.
There was a strange sound like the noise of a vacuum sucking air and a shiver went through me. The fae from earlier, the one who had tried to save me from Nicki's flame appeared with a popping sound. While I was still eyeing the way he looked pale and sickly, he threw the same sort of webbing over me Warren had used on Sarah. It clung to me like a spider web.
Rory stepped closer, inspecting me head to heal. He addressed Sarah, but his eyes didn't leave my face.
"We're quite done with your friend here, Sarah," he said. "But I can't seem to find the will to get rid of her. There's just something about her. Something I can't put my finger on. "
At that point, he looked over his shoulder to where Sarah was lying in the middle of her circle. The fire at my back roared silently but I could feel the heat of it washing over me.
"But I will do what I need to," Rory said to Sarah. "I'm sure you don't want anything to happen to your friend here. Seeing as how she went to hell for you and all."
Sarah's chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. I knew she was trying to pull in enough breath to speak. I wished I could breathe for her, help funnel all her fear into a tiny pinprick where we could stomp it dead. I couldn't. I couldn't even find my way out of this stupid webbing.
"Let her go," she managed.
Rory glared at me and the Fae next to me ran his fingers over the webbing at a nod from the fae mancer.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I glanced sideways at him, confused until a wave of pain trembled through the web to reach every part of my skin it touched. I gasped in surprise and pain. He gave me a minute shrug as though he couldn't help himself and then a wave of emotion flitted across his face and he squeezed harder. "Warren was my lover," he said through gritted teeth.
I wasn't sure whether he meant he was sorry he was hurting me, or sorry that Warren was dead. And I didn't have time to find out. Rory strolled across the crypt, heading for a makeshift altar where he had stored a mortar and pestle. He pulled my messenger bag out from behind it and reached in for one of the knives I had brought with me.
"I've been alive a long time," Rory said. "And I've waited a long time for this."
He lifted the blade and inspected the edge. Then he sauntered back over to Sarah. For a man who seemed to be in a hurry, he was taking his time. I wasn't sure whether I should be thankful or impatient.
"You want me to leave her alone," he said to Sarah. "Maybe I will. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain first."
He tossed the knife into the middle of the circle and it clattered into space next to her. With what seemed like an insurmountable amount of effort, she rolled over onto her side and her fingers found the blade handle. I tried to work my way through the webbing, but the Fae at my side just sent another tremor of magic through it. It pulsed, transmitting a screech that didn't just enter my ears, but every pore of my body. I winced and cringed, trying to shut off the noise.
It didn't just hurt, it was too loud. The kind of loud where you want to cover your ears but can't. And yet through it, I could still hear Rory talking. Telling Sarah that she needed to start the ritual. And something else. A whispering perhaps as though through a radio signal that wasn't quite hitting its tuning. I cocked my head to listen, trying to filter out the painful, high-pitched keening.
Rory was busying himself by dropping a handful of teeth, Nicki's no doubt, into the mortal and lifting the pestle from the side of the bowl. He began to grind into it like an alchemist would, taking great pains to make sure everything was turned to fine powder.
"Come along, now, Sarah," he said, glancing up. "My friend there is about to get orders to make that web a whole lot more painful."
I braced myself, but the pain didn't increase.
Sarah sucked up her sobs and seemed to steady herself. She struggled to find a sitting position, and managed to find a place on her knees. She gripped the knife and stared at me. She mouthed the words sorry. I shook my head at her. She had nothing to be sorry about.
Rory called out her name and she glanced sharply over her shoulder. I watched as he lifted his fist in the air and then counted down with his fingers. One finger up. Two fingers. I knew that is soon as he lifted that third, a wave of pain would run over me.
&nb
sp; Sarah shouted. "Okay," she said. "Just hold on."
She struggled to find her feet as Rory paused in his count. A nasty smile slithered across his face.
"Good," he said. "Good girl." He nodded at the Fae next to me and while I expected the web to loosen, it only tightened further. I cringed as I waited for the next screech of pain to ride my skin. The fae next to me cringed as well. He looked so puffy and inflamed, like he was billowing from the inside out, and yet his skin looked wan.
I gave a thought to Warren in that moment. Poor thing. He had known what was coming. I had taken his life for him far too late. Maybe if I had done as he'd asked, we could have avoided all this.
Even as I thought it, a question tremored through the web like a secret whispered in a hushed room.
I glanced sideways at the Fae at my side. He was losing his hair. Getting a little fat. He was Warren's lover, wasn't he?
Yes, came the silent response, like a synapse firing through the threads to my skin. I was about to send out a questioning pulse myself when Rory barked at Sarah that she was taking too long.
"Do you know what time it is?" he said. "I might look patient, but I've been waiting generations for this. I will not wait another year."
I scrabbled through my mind, trying to think about what day it was. All Hallows? Was it really already Halloween? I thought I recalled something about it being special.
Rory set the pestle down and lifted the bowl in both hands. He carried it over to Sarah who I was horrified to see had already cut into her palm and was sobbing as she stared down at it. Rory stepped right inside the protective circle and placed the bowl under her palm. For some reason, I could hear every drop as it fell into the bowl. It made a sort of sizzling sound as it landed.
"Living blood," Rory said. He looked up at Sarah. I couldn't see what was going on between them, but the end result was that Sarah clenched her jaw tightly. He had no doubt threatened her.
"You did me a favour by taking your own life, Sarah," he said. "You made gathering this living blood a whole lot easier. Now you're both power and raised necromancer." He cocked his head at her. "You should feel pretty important. That's no small feat."
He swung his gaze to me. "Of course we can't forget Ayla. Without her all of this wouldn't be possible." He chuckled darkly.
He ran the backs of his fingers along my cheek until they found my hairline and pulled locks of it free from the webbing. "Maybe it's that hair that has me so enamored. I find it terribly intoxicating."
He put the full of his palm against my cheek then. "Why do you think that is?"
I knew exactly why, but I wasn't about to tell him. The incubus aspect.
"I'm going to kill you," I said through gritted teeth. "Make no mistake."
He lifted his silver brow. "And how would you do that?" he said. "Once the spell is finished, there isn't anything you can do to me. And with Azrael in hell, I'll be master of death altogether."
I blinked at him. I hadn't heard what I thought, surely. Azrael still in hell? It didn't make sense. He had far more skill, far more strength than I did. I had nothing to bargain with except the hope of reaping this fae mancer in front of me. Azrael had the wealth of a billion souls at his disposal. Surely at the very least he would leave the way he got in.
An uncomfortable niggling feeling wound around my mind. I had the portal. I had used it to carry Sarah safely through.
My gaze strayed to where Callum lay unconscious and where Nicki stood like a rigid little soldier, then shifted to where Sarah knelt with her blood dripping into a marble bowl. The sizzling still lent a subtle hiss throughout the space.
The realization struck with lightning speed and felt just as charged. Azrael had stayed behind so that I could escape with Sarah. For some awful, wonderful reason, the Angel of Death had made a sacrifice.
"It won't matter," I said to Rory. He had a finite amount of time to complete the spell, and without that last ingredient he might as well be a lifetime away.
"And why not?" he asked.
"You don't have all the pieces to the spell."
He smiled. "Don't I?"
He gave a long look over his shoulder toward where the fire from the portal still blazed, emitting its distinctly sulphurous stench throughout the crypt. It had burned down lower, only about knee high now, but still sent off waves of searing heat with a fire that didn't consume a single thing around it.
That was when I realized Rory did indeed have the last ingredient.
Lucifer had sent me home on his own flame of disgrace.
CHAPTER 21
Rory grinned at me as though he had just risked a million bucks at Black Jack and won the load. In a way, I supposed he had. And it felt very much like I was the House who had to pay out. With great sense of ceremony, he spun to face Sarah.
"Are you sorry now that you ran off?" he said.
She shook her head, no doubt unable to do much more. I imagined we both felt the same sinking sense of defeat. She surprised me, though, when she answered him.
"No," she said her voice remarkably strong. "It was the right thing to do. No one should have power over death who wants to use it for self-interest." She looked defiant. I could have hugged her. It certainly gave me a boost to see her on her knees, bleeding into a bowl and still willing to shove her attitude back in his face. My hero, the necromancer.
He chortled at her words and plucked the mortar from the floor in front of her. As he straightened up, his gaze went in the direction of the crypt door, head cocked as though he heard something.
"Start the incantation now," he said. "Maybe you can still save these paltry lives."
He jerked his chin toward Callum and Nicki. The fae standing next to him shifted from side to side and his hand reached out to hover over Callum's head. There was a short, sharp jerk of Callum's body and then it went still again. Nicki started to cry.
Sarah looked at me, blue eyes so much like Rory's wide with fear. No doubt she knew what I did, that we were running out of time. That once she started incantation, it would be over and he would have what he wanted. But what choice was there?
I shook my head at her, trying to tell her it was over. Just do what he wanted. I couldn't stand the thought that Nicki and Callum might get hurt, and I knew she couldn't.
What was one immortal fae mancer to her life or Callum's or Nicki's?
Rory seemed to take my head shake as an indication that I was refusing and he gave a curt nod at the Fae beside me who had spun the web that covered me head to heel.
A wave of pain went through it into my skin. At the same moment, the fae groaned out loud. He felt every bit of pain he sent to me.
And he was getting sicker. Like Warren. Poor Warren. I wasted his death, and he sacrificed himself for nothing. That he went quickly instead of painfully like this fae beside me was small consolation. I pitied the poor thing as much as I pitied myself in that instant. If it was going to be finished, and Rory was going to win, maybe I could at least offer Warren's friend something to cling to, that would make it easier for him to bear the suffering.
"Warren went peacefully," I muttered out of the side of my mouth.
"Do you think I'll ever see him again?" he whispered back in a voice soft with longing and exhaustion.
"I'm sure of it," I said even though I knew it was a lie. Small lies for the sake of comforting someone couldn't be bad. Warren had gone to oblivion. Azrael had reaped him and there was nothing left of his essence for this Fae man to find, let alone see.
I heard the hollow, rasping sound of Sarah starting the incantation. Soon it would all be too late and none of it would matter.
"I could end it for you, if you like," I said. " It won't hurt and I'll be quick."
"Are you sure?" he said, and he hung his head and looked out the side of his eye at me. No doubt he didn't want Rory to hear what he was thinking. I took the hint and kept my voice low.
"I can," I said. "But you have to help me. Just loosen the webbing," I said.
"Just step away," I said to the fae beside me. "It doesn't have to be much."
"I can't," he said. "I don't have control."
Of course. Rory did. How else would he be able to make these fae folk work their magic to do things they didn't want to do? And even if the fae could loose me, the blade was all the way across the crypt on the floor.
I sighed in frustration. Sarah's voice had already shifted in tenor and she began to sway back and forth. I flicked my gaze to the skeletons, hoping she was raising them. Nothing. The skeletons lay where they had fallen before, in a pile of bones.
Even so. Something was different. Maybe it was the play of shadows across the pile of bones that I hadn't noticed before. Maybe it was the distant hooting sound coming from down the passageway and leaking through the door. Maybe I was just imagining it all because I desperately wanted a way out.
"I need Warren's knife," I said to the fae, loading on the nostalgia.
"Wand," he said, correcting me. "It was his wand. It has been spelled to be a blade. Cold forged iron," he said and sighed. "He must have really wanted to die."
Rory sent a sharp gaze our way. One glance at his irritated face also gave me good sight of the door past him. Something white and furry was peeking through the crack. A head, I realized. It poked in. Pulled back. Bobbing in and out as though it was looking for something.
An owl, I realized. Nicki's owl. Reflex sent my gaze to Nicki. She was staring at the door. I looked sidelong at my fae captor, wondering if he saw the same thing I did. His face was expressionless, lost in his own thoughts and grief, no doubt.
Sarah rose up from her knees. "Mortis dominus," she shouted, lifting her face to the ceiling. Her movement, her tone, her very posture seemed to indicate a sense of culmination. The end was coming. I knew it even before Rory broke out into a full on smile.
Rise (Reaper's Redemption Book 3) Page 15