The Scrolls of Gideon (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 7)

by Sonya Bateman

  “Stop. Please,” I panted, dimly aware that I’d fallen to the ground. “I can’t…”

  Fat droplets of blood pattered onto the damp sand in front of me. Something hit me between the shoulders hard enough to crack bone, but I couldn’t even focus enough to explain what was happening to my captors. And they were getting furious. I had to make the dead shut up.

  I dragged in as much air as I could, and shouted, “Cíunaas!”

  White light glowed faintly beneath my shirt as the moonstone worked to amplify the tiny fraction of spark I had left. It was already fading seconds after it activated, but so were the voices. Blessed silence rang in the space between my ears.

  Until Dom shattered it with a snarl. “What the hell are you doing? Get up!” he shouted, and another blow impacted my shoulders. This time I could tell it was his boot.

  “Keep doing that, and I’ll just drop dead out of spite,” I panted as I pushed myself up again. I was spending far too much time on the ground and not nearly enough saving everyone. I turned toward them, and they must’ve seen something in my face that worried them, because they both took a rapid step back. “I heard them. The dead,” I explained, and gestured out at the impossible tangle of ships. “All of them talking at the same time in my head. There are hundreds of corpses down here, and their souls are trapped.”

  Mr. Wilt, who at least seemed marginally intelligent, cocked his head slightly. “That’s where the nosebleed came from?”

  I nodded once, swiped some of the blood from my lip and spat on the ground.

  “And the light?”

  “It was a spell.” I didn’t want to mention the moonstone, on the off chance they didn’t know about it so maybe they wouldn’t take it away. “I can talk to the dead, and I can spell them. I had to make them be quiet.”

  “I thought you were out of magic, Fae,” Dom said in a threatening tone. “Maybe we need to clap you in irons after all.”

  “I had one spell left in me. And I just used it,” I said, meeting his glower with an even stare. The truth was, the moonstone might still have a little juice — it had faded, but it hadn’t gone out completely. I had an extremely slim chance to end this, but I’d have to wait for the right opportunity. If it ever presented itself. “But that isn’t important,” I finally went on. “What’s important is I just figured out how I might be able to find your ship.”

  Mr. Wilt’s brow went up. “How?”

  “I don’t need my spark to use my DeathSpeaker ability,” I said. “So I can try to find Sir Livingston Cromwell and ask the dead where he is. But not if you keep beating on me,” I said with a hard look at Dom.

  “Fine. Dom, lay off him so he can do his thing,” Mr. Wilt said. “You know we can’t fuck this up. The boss was very clear.”

  Dom grunted assent.

  Interesting. Whoever they were working for in Milus Dei, they were afraid of them. Maybe I could use that to my advantage somehow, at least to get a little more information about the Scrolls of Gideon and why they wanted them.

  Mr. Wilt pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and held the side button down. “We’re about to move in,” he said into it. “Is everyone behaving back there?”

  Kjell’s magically English-speaking voice replied. “We’re fine here. The big one’s still out, and no one’s making waves.”

  I bristled silently, but managed to hold my tongue. It was probably better for Taeral to be unconscious right now. When he woke up, he was going to be in a lot of pain … and extremely furious.

  Hopefully these bastards would live just long enough to find out exactly why pissing Taeral off was a really bad idea.

  “All right. We’ll check in every hour,” Mr. Wilt said. “You know what to do if we don’t. Take that soppy, tattooed moron first.”

  “Yes, we’ve got it. Over and out.”

  “What?” I shouted hoarsely as Mr. Wilt replaced the unit on his waistband. “Did you just leave them with standing orders to start killing people if you don’t check in? What the hell’s wrong with you?” My jaw clenched so hard, I could hear my teeth grinding together. “What if your battery runs out, or your unit gets busted? Fuck you. I’m not doing this if you’re just going to kill everyone anyway.”

  Mr. Wilt seemed to give assent for something, and Dom jerked me to the ground with the chain again. This time he held it tightly while Mr. Wilt loomed over me. “We don’t have to kill them. At least, not right away,” he said. “Solveig has a very particular talent for causing pain, and she enjoys doing it. Your brother may be unconscious, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind playing around with your werewolf friend.” His mouth stretched into a cold grin. “Or your sister.”

  A shiver raced down my spine. They knew about Alex. Christ, these Milus Dei assholes had more info on my life than I did.

  “All right,” I croaked as the chain dug into my windpipe. “I’ll do it.”

  The chain went slack, and I gasped and stood slowly, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do. For now, I had to play my assigned part in this sick little drama.

  So I started reaching out to the dead.

  CHAPTER 23

  I’d been picking my way through the tangled wrecks for an hour, trying to reach out to the dead and find Sir Livingston Cromwell. Unfortunately, I wasn’t making as much progress as I’d hoped. At this point any progress at all would’ve been an improvement.

  Most of the souls down here couldn’t help me if they wanted to. They’d been trapped for so long that they’d basically gone insane. Nine times out of ten, when I reached for an individual soul, what I got back was an incomprehensible scream and a flood of broken gibberish. It hurt every time. My head was pounding like a bass drum at a rock concert, and blood dripped almost constantly from my nose. Both ears had already bled a few times.

  I’d limited myself to two questions. Are you Livingston Cromwell, and do you know where he is.

  At least they could all still manage to say no.

  “All right. Stop here for a minute,” Mr. Wilt said as we came up on a fishing trawler that was made completely of damp rust and spiky bits. “I need to check in with the twins.”

  I sat down hard on the ground, not caring whether Dom felt like dragging me around by the throat. I couldn’t see exactly how far we’d gotten, but I knew it was only a fraction of the massive length of the canyon and I was already barely functional.

  Worse, I knew I could keep going. And I would, even if I felt like dying.

  I lowered my head and tried to pull myself together a little as Mr. Wilt clicked the walkie-talkie on. “You there?” he said into it.

  After a brief pause, the unit squawked. “Yes, still here. Everything’s fine,” Kjell’s voice said through the speaker. “How about on your end?”

  “Nothing yet, but we’ll find it,” Mr. Wilt said. “No trouble with the guests?”

  “None at all.”

  “Okay. Talk to you in an hour. The order still stands.”

  “We hear you.”

  Mr. Wilt clicked the CB off, but I didn’t bother moving yet. Every second I was allowed to rest helped me ease the headache back. But I couldn’t wait too long, even if they let me. The twelve-hour deadline wasn’t arbitrary. If I didn’t finish this, Taeral and Sadie would both die without any of them having to lift a finger.

  “Are you all right?” Mr. Wilt said from somewhere above me.

  I rolled my eyes without looking up. “Like you really care.”

  “I do, actually,” he said. “We can’t have you passing out on us. At least, not before you find the Scrolls.”

  “Fine, then I’m not all right. I could use a glass of water, maybe a snack. And a gun to shoot your sorry asses with.”

  I wasn’t surprised to feel the chain jerk tight.

  “Ease off, Dom,” Mr. Wilt said. “And hand me the canteen.”

  “What?” the big man sputtered. “You’re not wasting our water on that—”

  “Give it to me.”

  The flat
command in Mr. Wilt’s tone was startling. An instant later, he was crouched in front of me holding a large leather canteen on a strap. “Here,” he said as he held it out. “Have a drink, mate. You look like hell.”

  I took it gingerly, like it was filled with explosives instead of water. Almost as quickly, I changed my mind and tried to hand it back. “No, thanks.”

  He frowned. “It’s just water.”

  “With a hint of mandrake, right?” I said, still holding it toward him even as my parched throat begged me to reconsider. “Very considerate of you, but I’m not thirsty.”

  “You need to drink.” Mr. Wilt reached for the walkie-talkie. “Don’t make me force you.”

  “All right, you son of a bitch,” I spat as I drew the canteen in and uncapped it. “I’m drinking.”

  I took a tentative sip, and to my surprise tasted nothing but sweet, cold water. My instincts took over and I drank greedily, until I could feel my stomach stretch.

  When I finally lowered the canteen, Dom snatched it from my hand. “You’ve had more than enough, filthy rat,” he said. “Now I have to sterilize this thing.”

  “What’s your problem? Do you think the Fae have cooties or something?” I said, tilting an angry stare at him. “Magic isn’t contagious. Believe me, if it was, I’d never set foot near people like you.”

  “See what I mean?” Dom said as he stuffed the canteen into the duffel. “All these things hate humans. They just keep proving that they need to be exterminated.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, I’m not anti-human. Just anti-asshole.”

  “Don’t,” Mr. Wilt said sternly, just as Dom started to yank the chain again. “In fact, give him to me.”

  I was sure Dom would refuse. But he just glowered at his partner as he unwound the chain and thrust the loose end toward him. “Fine with me. I don’t want to touch him, even by extension,” he grumbled.

  Mr. Wilt took the end and held it for a moment, staring at me with flat consideration. “Tell you what. I’ll take this off, for now,” he said, cutting off Dom’s protest with a sharp gesture. “But if I even think you’re trying to get away, I’ll shoot you with cold iron. And then I’ll have one of your friends killed.”

  “Maybe you’d better leave it on, then,” I shot back. “Because you can think anything you damned well feel like thinking, and I can’t stop you from making up your mind that I’m attempting an escape. I’m not letting someone die because you think I made a funny move.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to keep convincing me that you’re still with the program.” Mr. Wilt held a hand out, and Dom grudgingly placed a small silver key in it. The tall man bent to open the padlock, and then unwound the chain from my neck. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

  I said nothing. Better or not, I knew that if things kept going the way they were now, everyone would die in a lot less than twelve hours. This guy was just looking for an excuse to kill someone else, and he’d find one even if I didn’t give it to him.

  “Come on, it’s time to get up,” Mr. Wilt said, handing the chain and padlock to Dom. “The clock is ticking for your friends. We need to get moving.”

  I bit back a scathing reply and forced myself to my feet, shivering a little with the movement as cold, damp air surged around me. For the first time I realized that the constant dripping water sounds in this area were more frequent than they’d been before, and I thought I heard an actual steady trickle coming from somewhere. I looked around slowly for the source of the sound, but didn’t see anything.

  “Hey, do you actually know anything about this barrier?” I said in forced casual tones as I started away from them, heading past the rust-sculpture of a trawler. “Because I don’t, but it sure as hell seems to be leaking. It’d be helpful to know if a million gallons of ocean are going to crash down on us any second.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mr. Wilt’s quick frown. “We don’t know much, but I’m sure it’s fine,” he said with a little too much confidence. “It must’ve held for at least four hundred years so far. That’s when the Nostradamus vanished.”

  I started to shake my head, and then half-froze when I saw scurrying movement along the deck of a stout wooden ship just ahead. “Oh, really?” I said, and pointed. “Then how did that thing get in there?”

  The mermaid caught sight of us and hissed, baring sharpened teeth as it clambered down the side of the boat and sidled like a snake along the ground, straight toward the tasty human buffet.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Nasty overgrown fish!” Dom shouted as he sighted his gun on the mermaid and fired. Its head exploded in a burst of black ichor, and the rest of it thumped and writhed on the ground for a minute before it finally stilled.

  As the rolling echo of the shot bounced along the canyon, faint sounds washed up from behind us. Someone screaming, an answering shout, an abrupt crack.

  Before I could figure out what those noises were, a more immediate problem presented itself. Quick scuffling sounds from the derelict ships around us, and more of those keening shrieks like I’d heard from the mermaid I electrocuted. Except those cries weren’t pain — they were anger.

  There were more of them down here. A lot more than one.

  “Damn these things!” Mr. Wilt said as three of them burst through the rotting side of a simple wood boat to the left of us. He started firing, and Dom unslung the scope rifle he’d been carrying across his back, aiming at movement that was a good hundred yards ahead. A single shot from the rifle stopped whatever it was cold.

  The bastard was a damned good shot.

  I shuffled back toward the rotting trawler as the two of them played whack-a-mermaid, hoping to find something I could use for a makeshift club or a knife. If any of those creatures came at me, I had nothing to stop them with.

  After a minute or so of frantic searching, I spotted a big, thick wooden oar that had cracked just below the blade. I grabbed it, rested the edge of the blade on the ground at an angle, and stomped on the crack. The flat end broke off and the oar snapped partway down the handle, leaving me with basically a six-foot wooden stake.

  More screams and shouts echoed faintly down the corridor from the direction where we’d left the rest of them. Damn it, something was wrong back there. It killed me that I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. But I fully intended to, once we weren’t being attacked by mermaids.

  I staggered back a few steps from the trawler, trying to regain my bearings. Before I could reorient myself and head back toward the assholes who’d kill my friends if they thought I was escaping, something grabbed my leg. And sharp teeth bit into my thigh.

  I screamed and reacted instinctively by driving a fist into the mermaid’s face.

  The blow loosened its bite, and it bubbled something that almost sounded like words. I raised the broken oar over my head with both hands and drove it into the mermaid’s chest with a sickening wet crunch, pinning it to the ground.

  The mermaid screamed piercingly, a sound that dwindled to nothing as black blood gushed from its chest and left it frozen in death.

  I tried to catch my breath for a minute and get a look at my leg. My pants were shredded where the damned thing bit me, and blood had soaked through the material all the way down to my ankle. The bite wound throbbed and burned like fire, and I started to wonder if mermaids could contract rabies as I moved toward the body, preparing to retrieve my makeshift weapon.

  “Don’t bother. That was the last of ’em.”

  I froze in anger at the sound of Mr. Wilt’s voice and lifted a glare to him. “I swear to God, if you use this to claim I was running away—”

  “You weren’t. Obviously,” Mr. Wilt said. “Looks like the little bastard got you first, though. How bad is it?”

  I ignored the question and limped toward them. “I heard screaming back there,” I said, jerking a thumb behind me toward the corridor entrance. “You need to touch base with Kjell and make sure those two didn’t start randomly killing people.”

&nb
sp; “He doesn’t need to do a damned thing,” Dom snapped.

  “No, he’s right. I’ll check in.” Mr. Wilt unclipped the walkie and depressed the button. “Kjell, what’s going on? We heard shouting.”

  After a beat, the radio crackled. “Yes, and we heard gunshots,” Kjell said. “Our guests got anxious. They thought you were killing the DeathSpeaker, so they tried to revolt. Solveig had to put them in their places.”

  A vise clamped around my insides and squeezed hard. “Goddamn it, they didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did I. They were scared, you sick fuck!” I shouted, even though Kjell couldn’t hear me since Mr. Wilt was still clicked off. “You tell her not to touch them again, or I’m through helping you. This wasn’t the deal.”

  For a few seconds I thought Mr. Wilt would refuse, or even decide to have them hurt more because of my outburst. But he looked at me with a steady gaze, pushed the talk button and raised the unit to his mouth. “The DeathSpeaker is fine. We ran across a few mermaids, so you need to be on the lookout for them,” he said into the walkie. “That’s what we were shooting. And listen, Kjell.” Anger filtered into his face. “That’s the last time the two of you take matters into your own hands. If I want them hurt, or dead, I’ll inform you. That is not your call to make. Understand?”

  After a brief pause, Kjell came back with a grudging, “Yes, sir.”

  The address surprised me, but it also confirmed what I already suspected. Mr. Wilt was not only the leader of this group. He held a higher position in whatever hierarchy Milus Dei used for their people, and the rest of them had to respect him.

  “Clean them up, give them some water. And wait for my orders next time, goddamn it.” Mr. Wilt clicked off and shoved the unit back in place. “You see, I’m not an unreasonable man,” he said to me. “As long as you cooperate, I will hold up my end of the bargain.”

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to keep the edge of lingering fury out of my voice. Whether or not Mr. Wilt was true to his word, I knew there was no chance any of us would make it out of here alive if these guys got what they wanted.