Startled, Rachel twisted and shaded her eyes.
A tiny Lion stood on the arm of the couch, regarding her steadily.
“Leander!” Rachel brushed her hair from her face. “Why do such horrid things happen?”
“Fear not,” the Lion regarded her with a gaze more steady than the sun, “for they that be with us are more than they that be against us.”
“Really!” Rachel drew herself up into a sitting position, and stared at him curiously. “How so? Do you mean the Raven? The Elf?”
The Lion gazed at her unblinking. “Your friends need you.”
“Wha-what?” Rachel fumbled for the green mirror in her pocket. “My friends? What…”
The little lion was nowhere to be seen.
• • •
Rachel sped on her steeplechaser toward the docks, her hair flying every which way. Joy, Valerie, and Zoë had all responded to her call. They were safe in class. Neither Sigfried nor Nastasia had answered; however, she had been able to catch a glimpse of the scenery visible to the calling card peeking from Sigfried’s pocket.
She had seen trunks, branches, and sky.
Rapidly, she had checked that particular glimpse of branches against her memory of places on campus. After several seconds, she had found a match. Sigfried’s mirror was showing her the trees lining the path that led to the docks. She and Sigfried had just been down there—right before the airplane came, spying on the Agents who took Juma.
Why had he gone again?
She dashed across the commons, over the lily pond, and along the path to the docks. As she flew, she heard music—hauntingly beautiful music. It called to her, promising the answer to all her questions.
Rachel slowed her broom.
Something was not right.
Ahead, between the two lines of stately trees, purple sparkles danced along the path. Purples sparkles, Gaius had said, were the color of a geas. The swell of the music called to her, urging her forward.
Rachel resisted.
Ahead, she could see Sigfried, Lucky, and Nastasia. They walked beside a woman dressed in a voluminous shadowcloak. Her hood was down, revealing hair the same pale red as Serena O’Malley’s. She had her wand pointed at Rachel’s friends.
Music and purple sparks flowed from the gem at its tip.
Serena O’Malley must have been the one controlling the jumbo jet. Rachel guessed that one of Egg’s contacts inside the Wisecraft—either voluntary or geased—had alerted her when Agents came to question her son. A shiver ran down Rachel’s spine: possibly the same contact whose indiscretion led Ms. O’Malley to murder Mrs. Egg?
Rachel looked over her shoulder. In the far distance, she could see two proctors standing near Roanoke Hall, the blond one and a tall one with curly black hair who wore a cowboy hat. Could she reach them and get back in time? Her geased friends were nearing the end of the tree-lined path. They needed only to walk through the archway in the ruined castle and down the stairs, and they would be at the docks—where jumping worked.
Once there, they could be kidnapped and taken anywhere.
Pulling out her calling card, Rachel leaned over it, whispering, “Joy! Zoë! Valerie! Someone’s kidnapping Siggy and the princess. Get help!”
She landed and hid her broom behind a bench that stood beside the path. Creeping forward, her eyes locked on the sparks of purple light. Gaius had told her that geases worked by the same principles as the Spell of True Recitation. If so, the Elf’s gift would protect her from the effects.
If she continued forward, and the Rune did not protect her, she would be entirely helpless. Yet, in her mind, she saw the golden eyes of the little Lion. He would not have sent her, if there was nothing she could do.
Taking a deep breath, she walked bravely into the music and the sparks.
Chapter Thirty-Three:
Held by the Collar While Everyone Else Fights
“Rejoice!” Mortimer Egg declared, raising his arms. “The world ends today!”
Mr. Egg stood upon a stone dais, surrounded by a sea of hooded figures in long deep purple robes. He wore a gray suit, his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Two women in voluminous shadowcloaks, Serena O’Malley and another, flanked him. Behind them were Rachel and her friends. Nastasia, Sigfried, and Lucky stood in the places Serena had been told to take, after she had jumped them here. They waited motionless and glassy-eyed.
It was hard to imitate glassy-eyed.
Rachel’s eyeballs felt dry.
Around them were the rock walls of a cavernous, vaulted chamber. Light streamed in through arched windows twenty-five feet above the floor. From the odor of wet earth and the moistness of the air, Rachel guessed that the majority of the chamber was below ground level.
From the center rose a forty-foot-tall crystal lighthouse bulb, much like the one in the belfry of the Watch Tower, only eight times larger. To the left of the bulb was an altar, the surface of which was stained dark from years of use.
“My followers, with your own eyes,” Mortimer Egg’s voice rang, “shall you see the Twilight of the World! To perform this final act, we have a special sacrifice. Two of the seven prophesied Keybearers! We shall strike a dire blow against Heaven. All Hell shall praise us!”
As Egg harangued his followers, Rachel considered how to carry out her purpose. His back was to her. To use the masterword, she had to catch his eye. To catch his eye, she needed to be in front of him.
She considered breaking her masquerade and running forward but decided against it. There was no guarantee that she would get in front of Egg before somebody stopped her. Even if she managed to paralyze one of the women flanking him, the other one would be free to capture her…or worse.
Better to bide her time, and hope for a more propitious moment.
“Who is to perform this great sacrifice, O Master?” called Serena O’Malley.
“That honor shall go to our newest initiate.” Mortimer Egg’s voice rose in anticipation. “It will make this act all that much more potent.”
Why? Would this be the new initiate’s first murder? Did the corruption of such innocence add spice in the eyes of the demons, the way cloves and cinnamon did for humans?
“The time has come!” Mortimer Egg gestured to the feminine figure on his right.
She nodded and turned. As she moved toward the three students and the dragon, Rachel saw five rings of mastery flash on the slender fingers protruding from the sleeves of the robe, familiar-looking slender fingers.
A tremor of terrifying uncertainty gripped Rachel.
The approaching figure drew back the hood of her shadowcloak. Underneath was a lovely young brunette. Her extremely dark eyes had a mere hint of a slant, giving them that exotic look that had catapulted several famous Hollywood actresses to stardom.
It took every ounce of Rachel’s dissembling skill not to scream.
Sandra!
Rachel’s oldest sister glided toward them with swan-like grace. Her lovely face was calm with the slightest curve of a smile. Rachel’s mind reeled. Her heart stopped beating.
Surely, not…
Sandra’s left pinky was rigid and vibrating slightly. Relief ran through Rachel’s body. The Griffin Girls could hide their feelings from the world, but they could not fool each other. Her sister was not calm and serene. She was extraordinarily nervous.
Sandra was undercover.
Her sister was not an accountant. She was an Agent! And to think that Rachel had felt so sorry for her sister’s fake boredom!
Sandra raised her hands and formed the same gesture Mr. Fuentes’s had made, the time the geas had been forcing him to cast deadly black fire. Rachel’s heartbeat echoed oddly.
Sandra would not kill her little sister to protect her cover.
Would she?
Sandra spoke in a clear voice, “Pyr Tur…Daddy come save us!”
Crash!
The window over Mortimer Egg’s head shattered.
Through the shards of broken glass leapt Agen
t Ambrose Griffin. His Inverness cape billowed about him like the dark wings of an avenging falcon. His steady hazel eyes were fixed on Egg, his fulgurator’s staff aimed at the dark sorcerer’s heart. Crackling white-gold flame leapt from the fist-sized gem at the staff’s tip, striking Egg in the chest.
Mortimer Egg bellowed in pain, screaming and writhing. He tried to draw his wand and fire back, but the agony was too great.
Crack. Crash. Crack.
More Agents came through other windows. Rachel recognized Darling, Standish, and the dark-skinned Templeton Bridges, her father’s closest associate. They, too, pointed their staffs. Glepnir bonds encircled many of Egg’s hooded followers. Agent Standish’s cheetah leapt through a window, landing on the back of a man who cried out and crumpled.
Ambrose Griffin hung in mid-air. Then he landed lightly on his feet, firing continuously. Blue sparks danced across Mortimer Egg, who froze, mouth wide from screaming. Agent Griffin turned to Egg’s followers. Blue sparks played across the robed crowd. The first dozen froze.
Pillars of light flashed. More Agents arrived, fulgurator staffs firing. They all wore Inverness capes and tricorne hats, with medallions bearing a lantern surrounded by stars around their necks. These medallions immediately surrounded their wearers with glittering shields. Spells fired by the robed sorcerers harmlessly bounced off them.
Tall white flashes ignited as some of the hooded followers fled.
Agent Briars, the Asian woman who had escorted Juma to New York, landed as lightly as a cat. Placing a coin on her hand, she shook her charm bracelet. The coin shot from her palm faster than Rachel could see and smashed into the giant lantern. It shattered with a resounding crack. Large sheets of glass crashed down on top of robed followers. The scent of lamp oil filled the chamber. The noise was deafening, drowning out Serena’s screams of outrage.
Six Agents jumped in at strategic points, holding tall cast-iron candelabras, which they placed on the floor. A spirited young woman and a dapper gentleman, Agent Vicky Armel, her father’s prime warder, and Agent Miles Caldor, the warder for the New York office, placed their hands on the cast-iron and spoke aloud. Golden sparks formed a hexagon between the six candelabras.
Fleeing pillars of light coalesced back into people.
No new pillars formed.
Unable to jump away, most of the followers raised their hands, surrendering. A few shot spells out of wands or dueling rings. Sparks and cantrips splashed harmlessly against Agents’ glittering shields.
It was over as quickly as it began.
The Veltdammerung followers dropped their weapons. Mortimer Egg and Serena O’Malley were paralyzed. Agent Miles Caldor bowed elegantly to Rachel and her friends. Then, he performed the Word of Ending. This freed them from the compulsion of the geas, though to Rachel, it had been more of a suggestion.
His big, shaggy sheepdog trotted forward and licked her face.
Smiling, Rachel wiped her cheek.
Nastasia, Sigfried, and Lucky blinked and moved. Rachel, meanwhile, eyed the frozen Egg. Would the masterword work while he was paralyzed? Or did he have to actively look her in the eyes? She ran forward and stood before him, but his eyes were frozen gazing upward.
“What is occurring?” Nastasia was asking, confused, when Rachel returned to her side. “Why are we not in class?”
“I’ve released you from a geas.” Agent Caldor was a thoughtful man with a close-cropped beard. “You’ll need to be disenchanted to be free of its long-term effects.”
The princess curtsied, thanking him. Rachel would have curtsied, too, but, with a cry of joy, Sandra grabbed her and hugged her tightly, engulfing her in warmth and honeysuckle.
Rachel hugged her sister back briefly and then pulled away. “Egg! I’ve got to stop him! The demon. I’ve got to look him in…”
“It’s all right,” Sandra laughed, hugging her again. “It’s over now. We’ve got…”
“Fools!” Egg shouted, shaking himself free.
Wings of black smoke opened behind his back. He gestured. An unseen force yanked a surprised-looking Agent Caldor into the air. With a second gesture, the Agent sailed across the room, falling directly atop one of the tall candelabra. His body sank. The cast-iron tip emerged from his ribcage.
Caldor made a gargling noise.
The sheep dog let out a sound Rachel hoped she would never hear again. Yowling, the Agent’s familiar raced across the room to his fallen master. Blood was everywhere. Rachel’s heart leapt up into her throat and stayed there. She turned away. Her legs felt weak.
Even in the battle against Mordeau, she had never seen anything so terrible.
Three other Agents converged on the spot, music and green healing sparkles issuing from their wands. Before they could reach Agent Caldor, however, the weight of his body brought the candelabra crashing to the floor.
The hexagon of golden warding sparkles winked out.
Immediately, hooded Veltdammerung turned into columns of light and disappeared. Others crouched. Grabbing their dropped wands and rings, they fired at the Agents.
Egg raised his index finger and moved it horizontally.
“Obé.”
Those among his followers who had been dazed, paralyzed, or otherwise enchanted moved again. Those caught with Glepnir bonds remained bound in glowing golden bands.
Of those set free, some fled, some reentered the fight.
“Wicked! A battle!” Sigfried cried. Immune to the recent tragedy, he grinned and pulled out his knife. “Who’s on our side? Robes or cloaks?”
“The Agents are in Inverness capes,” replied Rachel. “The Veltdammerung are in robes.”
“Cloaks good, robes bad. Got it.” Sigfried nodded.
He raised his knife and ran forward, shouting like a Zulu.
“Robes, bad. Right.” Lucky zipped after him and began spewing out flames onto the nearest Veltdammerung followers, who screamed horribly.
Sigfried paused, mid-yell, and looked up at his knife. “Hey! I’m a sorcerer!”
Sheathing the blade, he pulled out his trumpet and blew. Concentric rings of silver sparks flowed from it. Four robed figures, who were rushing the dais, were lifted into the air and thrown backwards, knocking their fellows down like living nine pins.
Nastasia was slower to act.
She blinked uncertainly, her face unnaturally pale. She kept glancing back toward where the healing squad worked tirelessly to save Agent Caldor. Rachel dismissed her for the moment and looked to Sandra, who was firing spells from her five rings at Egg and the O’Malley woman. These two were also fighting her father and Agent Standish. Serena O’Malley was screaming in fury as she fought, but Mortimer Egg casually parried the incoming spells, as if he had nothing better to do.
Rachel considered charging into the battle with Siggy. She was so short, she probably could slip among the enemy and whistle, without anyone noticing. However, that would mean leaving the dais. Rachel had no intention of leaving until after she tried the masterword on Egg.
Maybe, this was a good opportunity to get his attention.
Rachel darted forward.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Sandra caught her by her collar.
Rachel’s forward motion brought her throat up sharp against the collar of her own robe. Gasping and gagging, she tried to explain to Sandra what needed to be done, but she could not get enough air to speak.
Still holding her collar, Sandra hauled Rachel back to where Nastasia stood. Forcing her robes away from her throat with her thumbs, Rachel struggled to regain her breath. She shouted to Sandra, but her sister was intent on conjuring balls with dream mist inside them and tossing them at the enemy. With all the shouting of cantrips and blares of enchantment music, her sister could not hear her.
Rachel tugged at her robes, trying to break free of Sandra’s vise-like grip.
“Rachel, keep still!” Sandra shouted. “I can’t cast if you are yanking on me!”
Overjoyed to finally have Sandra’s attention, Ra
chel cried, “I have to get to Mr. Egg! I know how to stop him!”
“Your friend should not have run off,” Sandra shouted back, apparently unable to hear over the din of the battle. “That’s no reason for you to run after him!”
“Not Sigfried! Egg! Sandra! The whole world is in danger! I know the…”
“Tur magos,” Sandra cast the cantrip for silence at Rachel’s mouth. Rachel kept talking, but no noise came out. “Sorry, little sis, but this is very serious. Very dangerous. Now you can’t cast, so you won’t think that you, who has been at school only one month, are the equal of professional sorcerers! Wait here with your girlfriend. If you try to run off again, I’ll have to paralyze you. Mother and Father would never forgive me if I let something happen to you!”
Sandra released her and ran back to cast more mist grenades at Egg and O’Malley, pulling them down with the muria cantrip and throwing them at astonishing speed. Rachel tried to whistle, but that also made no sound. Terror grew in her chest like a blossom of fire.
If she could not talk, how could she say the masterword to bind Azrael?
How ironic if the earth were to be destroyed because of a well-meaning attempt by Sandra to protect her little sister?
Rachel searched frantically through her pockets for paper and pen. Finding them, she wrote. Masterword to bind demon into Egg: Myrddin. Look in his eyes and say it. She held the note toward the princess, who was drawing her violin from her bag.
Looking curious, Nastasia reached for it.
A blast of silver sparkles struck both girls, sending them flying. The notepad with her message flew from Rachel’s hand and floated upward, vanishing amidst the swirling, multi-colored sparks overhead.
Lying flat on her back, gasping for breath, Rachel fought back against despair. If only she had shared the masterword with someone! She could have told Joy and Valerie over the card.
If she did not survive this battle, there would be no one who knew the word.
Dragging herself back to her feet, Rachel could find no sign of her paper. She thought of running to look for it, but the moment she moved, Sandra glanced in her direction.
The Raven, The Elf, and Rachel (A Book of Unexpected Enlightenment 2) Page 39