The Book of Lost Souls

by Michelle Muto

  Devlin barked from the other side of the room. Spike had managed to slip over and was trying to free him.

  “Stand aside,” Nick called to Spike. Spike stepped back, shielding his face. Nick hurled a ball of red light across the room, hitting the lock. It flipped over and popped open, then fell to the floor, freeing Devlin.

  Vlad sneered, striking out with his boot as Devlin raced across the floor toward Ivy. She met his Beezlepup kisses with open arms and then hugged him tightly, covering his soft, furry head with kisses of her own.

  The Countess laughed maniacally. She gathered her dress in her hands and ran across the factory floor. “How heartwarming. Stay with your mutt, or try and stop me before I kill Mistress Shayde. Care to play a game? I’ll even count to a hundred. Or not.” She raced up a set of metal stairs, her laughter echoing off the metal.

  Nick nodded to Ivy. “It’s either you or me. Shayde’s best hope is someone with spells.”

  Bane growled, signaling he disagreed.

  “I need you here,” Nick told Bane. “It’s you, me, and Spike. And someone’s got to keep Raven safe until she recovers.”

  Ivy didn’t wait to see if Bane stayed or was behind her. She took off after the Countess with Devlin on her heels.

  The railing shifted uneasily. Ivy caught a glimpse of the Countess running toward a gutted hallway. Devlin raced ahead and Ivy followed. The hallway was dark and Ivy had to use the flashlight to see where they were going. Shadows danced off the decaying walls.

  “Shayde!” Ivy called out. “Shayde? Where are you?”

  Devlin growled, the hackles rising on his neck. Ivy stopped and bent slightly to pat him. Devlin stared down a corridor to her right.

  “Well,” came the Countess’s distant voice from someone down the corridor. “There’s no one down this hallway.”

  Even though the Countess was somewhere up ahead, Devlin’s attention remained on the corridor to the right.

  “Is someone in there?” she asked him.

  Devlin bared his teeth.

  “Stay! Watch.” Ivy made a V with her fingers and pointed to her eyes, then back to Devlin, indicating he should stay on guard.

  Devlin sat and looked up at her with uncertainty.

  “It’ll be okay,” she said, not really sure it was okay. “If you hear anything, bark.” Ivy walked off into the corridor alone. Someone was here, she could sense it. It was like yesterday at the woods.

  “Shayde?”

  After several steps, she doubted it was Shayde. Had the ties binding Mr. Evans been tight enough?

  Dim light shone at the end of the hall from another hole in the ceiling. Ivy’s blood grew colder as she took a few more tentative steps.

  Almost there, almost there.

  She could see a doorway at the end, just to the left.

  Turn around. Shayde isn’t here. You’re wasting time.

  The thought was overwhelming. Yet, going back required turning her back on whoever or whatever was down here. Ivy began her retreat, keeping her back to the wall. Devlin was still waiting for her in the open hallway. At the darkened end of the hallway, something hit the floor with a loud thud. She jumped and let out a little scream. She whirled around, sure it was Mr. Evans or maybe that the Countess had found a way to circle around.

  It wasn’t a person at all. It was a book.

  Devlin barked, worriedly.

  “Stay!” She warned him.

  The book was one of the largest she’d ever seen. It was leathery and black with a blood-red gem in the center of it like the eye of a dragon. It wasn’t just a book. Ivy knew it was the book.

  “It’s okay,” she said to Devlin in a shaky voice. “I’ll be right back.”

  She eased her way back to the end of the hallway and knelt. The book’s cover rose and fell.

  It was breathing.

  She read the title, written in gold.

  The Book of Lost Souls.

  It flipped open and Ivy nearly shrieked. Pages turned, leisurely at first, becoming a blur as they turned faster and faster. It stopped abruptly three quarters of the way through the book. She couldn’t believe what she was reading—the counter curse to banish lost souls. She was so mesmerized by what she read, that it took the sound of footfall and movement from the shadows to draw her attention away from the page.

  Slowly, her eyes traveled along the stained and dirty floor caked with years of scum and who knew what, stopping when she saw a pair of men’s black dress shoes, perfectly polished. Her eyes continued upward, over the dark slacks and long, expensive-looking black overcoat.

  This was who had been following her. The mystery wizard, the one who had positioned Magic for the Garden and The Rise of the Dark Curse in the graveyard for her to find. She wasn’t sure how her mother’s gardening book fit into all this, but it did. Then, he’d helped her in the woods. He was the one who had thrown stones at Vlad and the Countess. He’d been the one to disintegrate the boards on the bridge. He’d ransacked Mr. Evan’s house and taken The Book of Lost Souls. The only question left was what he wanted with her.

  Ivy looked up to see the mystery man’s face and stared, bewildered, into grey eyes that were so much like her own—her father’s.

  CHAPTER 34

  After all this time, all the years she’d spent imagining him coming back, all the nights she lay sleepless in bed, thinking of what to say to him, Ivy was utterly speechless.

  How often she had wanted to tell him how badly he’d hurt them, to tell him how many nights she’d awoken to her mother crying in the other room. She wanted to know how he could leave his family—those he’d sworn to love above everything else. How could he have held his daughter in his arms that day so long ago and profess she and her mother meant the world to him, and then simply walk out of their lives?

  If only her words could be weapons against him, inflicting the pain he deserved.

  Rage boiled inside her and yet her tongue remained silent. It was the shock of seeing him here, of all places. Her own father was the mystery man she and her friends had talked about.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. She saw something in his expression—anguish? Did it hurt to look at her? Was it so awful?

  “Shayde is okay,” he said softly. “I’ve charmed the room she’s being held in. The doors will hold until you get there. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. She was awake, and she’d see me. That can’t happen. Not yet. So, the rest is up to you, Ivy. Read the spell. I’ll be close.”

  Ivy glanced down at the page.

  The counter curse required four ingredients: the plants ivy, Wolfsbane, and Nightshade, and the blood from Vlad and the Countess. The blood might be one thing—she’d already seen that the dead and damned were capable of bleeding. The question was, where was she going to get plants inside the ruined textile mill?

  “Where—” Ivy looked up to ask him, but he was gone. Just like that day in the cemetery when he’d left the books for her to find before vanishing into thin air. He’d left her clues all along. He’d shown himself to Spike of all people. And, Spike had told her where to find him. Except, she’d found Vlad and the Countess instead. Of course, that had led her to Mr. Evans.

  And, Spike still had a note from her father. One Spike couldn’t give her until it was time.

  “Now would be a good time,” she whispered, but the words seemed louder than she’d intended. She read the spell’s ingredients again. Besides them, what else was she missing?

  The answer was in one of the books. Just not in either of Skinner’s books. Her father had left her more clues in the form of little penciled-in stars inside Magic for the Garden: ivy, Nightshade, and Wolfsbane. She didn’t need the plant versions.

  From inside her book bag, the voices started up again.

  She sees! Little one sees! Use the ingredients wisely. Yesssss... do use them wisely. Then, come to us. Come to our side...

  Words swam into view beneath the ingredients and Ivy felt her stomach rebel. The rest of the co
unter curse was horrible. And, even if she succeeded in doing the atrocities the book required, there was a warning Ivy wasn’t sure she wanted to ignore. She hadn’t been very good at paying attention to warnings so far. Unfortunately, this one didn’t tell her of a way out of the consequences.

  She tentatively touched the book, expecting something to reach out from it and grab her. It didn’t. Instead, it felt cool and smooth against her fingertips. Like the skin of a large snake.

  Don’t let it get to you, she thought. She slammed the book shut. Her head began to throb. How long before the books took control?

  Ivy shrugged off her book bag. “Maximize!” she held her hand over the canvas until it grew large enough to stuff The Book of Lost Souls inside it. Then, she gathered up her book bag and ran down the hallway toward Devlin.

  “Find Shayde,” she said. “She’s here, inside one of these rooms.”

  Devlin whined.

  “Yeah, I know buddy. Both books. It can’t be good. It’ll all work out, somehow. Right now, we’ve got to find Shayde.”

  Devlin trotted off down the hall, nose close to the ground. He paused at the next hallway, turned, and waited for Ivy.

  “Where?” she asked, looking around. The hallway was short, no windows and no closed doors. The only thing around was an open intake vent. “Devlin, she’s behind a closed door. You’ve got to be wrong.”

  Devlin turned and disappeared into the large vent. His bark echoed inside.

  “I am not going in there. There could be...spiders. Large ones. Or rats the size of rabbits.”

  Devlin grumbled in frustration.

  “Fine,” she said, climbing into the vent. “But there just better not be any spiders.”

  On hands and knees, Ivy followed Devlin’s barks and the sound of his nails against the piping. At least, she hoped those were Devlin’s nails and not the tap tap tap of a giant spider. There was a scrambling sound, and then she didn’t hear Devlin any longer.

  “Devlin? Dev?” she hurried forward, tumbling down the ventilation system face first. After a quick moment of free fall, Ivy landed in a pile of rubble. Roaches ran out beneath the pile of rotting drywall and carpeting.

  She squealed and got to her feet, dancing around and brushing herself off.

  “Gerrr,” Devlin said.

  “If that’s your version of ewww, then I agree.”

  Devlin pawed at her leg.

  Whhhomp!

  The sound of the door rocking on its rusty hinges brought Ivy back to the task at hand.

  “Your magic won’t hold!” cried the Countess from the other side of the door.

  Ivy didn’t want to say it wasn’t her magic—that it was Daddy Dearest’s magic—and if the Countess thought this was something, then just wait until she saw what spell good old Dad had in mind for his daughter’s next act.

  Fresh pain and anger rose inside her. After ten years, she thought he’d have something better to say to her, like how wrong he’d been, and that he loved her dearly. He hadn’t even mentioned how she’d grown. Didn’t ask how her mother was holding up. Nothing! Not one fatherly thing. Just hey, here’s the counter curse, good luck.

  Then, he’d left her. Again.

  No surprise there.

  Whhomp!

  Devlin growled and bared his teeth at the bulging door. The doorframe had busted away, and the frail door began to splinter under the Countess’s assault on the other side. With each shove, Ivy could see Báthory’s maniacal grin and her wild eyes. Her nose had quit bleeding, and a line of dried blood remained caked above her lip.

  A muffled noise came from behind another pile of trash. Ivy walked around it to find Shayde bound and gagged. Shayde couldn’t change. At least, not the way she’d been tied up. Her arms were duct taped behind her. Her ankles were also bound in duct tape and rope had been looped through the tape at her feet and wrists. The result meant Shayde was bent backward, in an arc. If she tried to change, she’d not only dislocate her shoulder blades, but probably break her legs and her back as well.

  Ivy fell to her knees beside her friend, ignoring the sound of the door coming off its hinges. With both hands, Ivy grabbed a section of the rope tethering Shayde’s ankles and wrists. She moved it back and forth a few times, then tapped the rope with one finger. The rope continued to apply friction to the tape.

  “Saw,” Ivy commanded, and the rope began to cut through the tape binding Shayde.

  WHHOMP!

  The door burst open and the Countess spilled into the room.

  Ivy took aim. She just needed a few more seconds. “REPEL!”

  The Countess’s feet went out from under her, partly thanks to Devlin who’d ran behind the Countess’s legs. When the Countess flipped backward over Devlin, his eyes squinted shut as though he thought this might hurt. He whimpered, but shook it off, darting away before the Countess could nab him.

  Shayde was now free and peeled back the tape covering her mouth.

  This wasn’t going fast enough. Ivy yanked a couple hairs from Shayde’s head.

  “Oww!” Shayde complained.

  Ivy ripped out a few strands of her own hair.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Ivy said.

  “What isn’t going to work?” Shayde asked.

  “I need some of Bane’s hair,” Ivy replied. She’d have to start the spell and hope she could come up with something.

  Devlin bounced up and down and barked at the Countess’s feet. He dashed in to nip at her heels. She went to kick him and Ivy issued another repelling spell. This time, the Countess stayed upright, although she did stagger back a foot or two.

  Every little bit helps, Ivy thought.

  Ivy slid the book bag to the floor and removed The Book of Lost Souls. The book instantly flew open to the page for the counter curse.

  The Countess pushed aside some of the debris on the trash pile and lunged for Ivy. Shayde and Devlin were on her in an instant, giving Ivy time to roll out of the way. She stretched out her hand, reaching for The Book of Lost Souls. It slid across the floor toward her.

  Ivy heard the sound of shredding fabric and looked up to see Devlin tear off a large piece of the Countess’s dress. He brought the material to Ivy.

  The Countess’s eyes found Ivy and the book. For a moment, her eyes went blank, then she grinned.

  “MINE!” the Countess cried. “You have them! And now they’ll be mine!”

  Shayde hit the Countess in her midsection with a board from the trash pile. She didn’t even flinch.

  Ivy understood what Devlin had done—the piece of dress material had a tuft of Bane’s hair on it. She grabbed them, divided up the hairs, stuffing the extras into her jeans pocket. Then she dropped the rest onto the page. The strands of hair transformed into their plant namesakes. The leaves shriveled, which left just the stems. Each stem swirled into words—the deed she’d have to perform as part of banishing the Countess. The damn book wanted its pound of flesh and she was hardly in a position to refuse.

  Shoving the thought from her mind, Ivy concentrated on getting the last ingredient—blood from the Blood Countess herself. She shuddered.

  “Muridae,” Ivy chanted. “Muridae, epulor inimicus.”

  The sound of tiny nails scratching at the walls grew almost deafening. Ivy placed her hands over her ears.

  The Countess narrowed her eyes at Ivy. “What trickery is this? It will not work!” She stepped forward just as a swarm of rats ran over her shoes. They climbed up her dress thirty, maybe forty of them at a time. The Countess swatted at them and they bit at her hands, drawing blood.

  “Ivy, what are you doing?” Shayde asked.

  “What I have to,” Ivy replied.

  Shayde nodded without taking her horrified eyes off the hundreds of rats that now nearly covered Countess Elizabeth Báthory. Rats chewed on her ears, her lips, her nose.

  The Countess’s screams were a mixture of anger and pain. She tore a few of the rodents from her bodice.

  “Retrieve,” I
vy said quietly. Reluctant to give up the feast, the rats slid backward across the floor. She picked them up, one by one, wiping their tiny paws and their mouths with her fingers.

  As she set each rat free, it ran back to join the others. The Countess was bleeding, but no sooner did the rats bite off a small bit of flesh then the Countess regenerated. Still, it was a horrible sight. The Countess teetered on her feet, the weight of squirming rats too heavy for her.

  “Ivy,” Shayde began to protest.

  “Shhh! Don’t say it,” Ivy said, her voice quivering. She swiped her bloodied hand onto the pages of the book.

  The Countess was screaming now, flailing her hands against the army of rats. Her skin had stopped regenerating, and worse, it was decaying before Ivy’s eyes.

  “Ivy,” Shayde called out behind her.

  Ivy didn’t answer. She wanted to tell Shayde to be quiet. She could hear the rats better if Shayde didn’t interrupt. She had to take another look. It repulsed her, but she was unable to stop herself. The Countess fell to the floor, moans erupting from her as the rats continued feeding on her disintegrating flesh.

  A large black rat shoved a smaller rat out of its way, perching itself on the Countess’s right cheek. The rat’s whiskers twitched in tune with its nose a few times before the rat settled in, biting deeply into the Countess’s blankly staring eye.

  Shayde grabbed the strap of Ivy’s book bag, breaking Ivy’s trance. Ivy whirled around, furious. “Don’t touch it! No one touches them except for ME!”

  Ivy stopped herself from adding, they’re mine. Thankfully, whatever hold the books had a moment ago began to fade and Ivy did her best to hold on to the person she still believed she was.

  Shayde stepped back. “I get what you did, Ivy. I really do. And thanks. But, both books? Where did you find it, anyway?”

  “Let’s go,” Ivy said, gathering The Book of Lost Souls and stuffing it back into the book bag.

  Shayde nodded and ran for the door with Devlin right behind her.

  Yelling, crashing, and small explosions caught their attention, saving Ivy from explaining about her father.