Sibyl swallowed hard. “Merciful God. Then it’s true. I’m alive?” She examined the skin on her arms, goose flesh springing up where she touched it. Her fingers settled on her wrist. A pulse. At her chest, a heartbeat.
But was this some unholy act? Was she a demon reborn? She fell to her knees and thanked God. “Praise be to the Almighty.”
“Bah! Get off your knees, girl. The Almighty had nothing to do with returning you to the living. That was the Oracle’s doing.” The crone studied her like a piece of fine boiled lamb. “My problem now is how to merge your essence and mine. Your body was a bonus. Your youth I can absorb, but how do I make your flesh my own?”
Sibyl thought her blood had run out of her veins. “You’d diminish me into oblivion—with not even a soul to bathe in God’s mercy?”
“Come now, child. We all have to make sacrifices.” Her mouth crooked downwards. “But the spirit must be shorn from flesh delicately. The blood moon would be best, when the divide between flesh and spirit is fragile.”
“By all that’s holy, you can’t do this. It’s a sin against God, against humanity.”
A cackle rose from the recesses of her belly. “My dear. Sinning is the least of my worries.” She snapped her fingers. “Shadrach,” she shrieked. “Come here. I need you.”
A heavy door scraped open, and Sibyl’s beloved ducked his head as he crossed the threshold. Long hard sinews were etched into his arms, and his wings were so massive he had to enter sideways.
Her heart skipped a beat. Shadrach. Her Shadrach.
“Take the girl to my chambers and lock her in. I need time to figure out how best to proceed. The blood moon is nearly upon us.”
Shadrach barely glanced at Sibyl. He obeyed blindly, taking her by the arm without so much as a word. She tried to speak, but he squeezed her arm until she winced.
“Hush,” he murmured then tugged her along.
He loosened his grip as soon as they were out of Izabel’s presence. Sibyl pressed her hand in his. She could feel him, really feel him, not like before when flesh felt more like mist and shadows. It was a moment she thought they’d never have again, yet here she was, alive and whole.
Shadrach took her to the top of the tower, Izabel’s tower, where she kept court with her gargoyles, all men cursed into stone.
Sibyl entered first, dazzled and horrified to bear witness to this witch’s inner sanctum. Is this why Shadrach rarely spoke of this place? Most of the candles had been snuffed out, but it was light enough to see the skulls of many animals and men.
The candelabra was made from human bones, softly lighting an old book. There was parchment, and ink the color of blood. Izabel had been making a list with the names of women, islanders who had died here—like her.
The main table lay littered with bottles and pottery containing poisons like belladonna, monkshood and arsenic. A second table was laden with live serpents and toads. Here, all manner of flesh and bone sat in various jars, and the smell of blood and vinegar mingled with candle smoke.
Shadrach shut the door behind them, then grabbed her by the shoulders, his rough hands touching her hair, her skin, her mouth.
“We thought the worst when we found the Oracle destroyed.”
“We?”
“Aye. Xander and Luísa went looking for you. I found them traipsing through the jungle and gave them a lift.” His eyes twinkled in the telling.
Sibyl lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Xander must have been livid.”
“I hope so. I never could stand his arrogance.” He picked her up, whisking her off her feet in a twirl. “But you. Look at you. You’re flesh and blood. Surely this wasn’t Izabel’s doing.”
“No. It was the Oracle. She restored me.”
He was gentle with her, lightly rubbing his stone hand against her flesh. “Then this is real? And is such a thing against the laws of God?” Shadrach’s face grew somber. “Not that I care. I’ll take you back anyway I can have you. And I’ll not lose you again.”
“Then we have to run, my love. Izabel reached the Oracle before me and asked it for a way to regain her youth. I was the answer to that prayer. Now Izabel plans to seize me body and soul.”
“Never!” His dulcet voice spiked with rage. “I’ll not lose you again.” He raced to the barred window and wrapped his hands around a bar. “I can pull these out and we’ll fly away. Far from this island and out of Izabel’s reach.”
“I’ll go anywhere with you, Shadrach, but I can’t leave my brother, not while he needs my help. He’s in mortal danger. I’ve seen it in my cards. I pulled a Death card.”
Shadrach’s wings expanded, knocking down a cold brazier and a book stand. “The blazes with your brother! I must get thee away from here. Xander will have to make it on his own.”
“I won’t leave him!”
“Damn it, woman. Think him a lad? Xander is more than capable of taking care of himself. You could’ve misinterpreted those cards.”
“I didn’t. It warned of an ultimate sacrifice. A life for a life. I know Xander too well. That fool brother of mine will sacrifice anything to save that pirate girl.”
“Aye, but now he doesn’t have to. You’re alive again. He’ll not risk the girl or his life, now that you have yours back. Let me take you away from here, and I’ll bring word to Xander that you’re safe.”
Sibyl hugged him. Beneath the stone façade, he was all man. Blood pumped through his veins, and his chest rose and fell with each breath. And when his lips touched hers, she wanted it to last forever.
“All right, Shadrach. Take me away from here, but only far enough to keep me out of Izabel’s grasp, then come straight back and bring Xander with you.”
He laughed. “Aye, it would please me to see that look of annoyance on your brother’s face when I pluck him from the ground again.”
“And then we’ll be together. Forever.”
“Yes, luv. Forever. I like the sound of that.” He lifted her into his arms and twirled her around. For the first time in months, she had seen him smile.
Sibyl rubbed her face against his, soft flesh against the scored grooves of chiseled stone. Shadrach never told her how long ago he met his fate, but she knew it was Izabel’s doing. All her gargoyles were once men. Cursed for all time.
The woman had no pity and no conscience.
He pressed his lips against hers, searing her with a kiss that gave rise to every tender feeling she’d suppressed, everything she’d hidden from Xander and Luc.
Shadrach parted from her and thumped her nose. “It’ll take but a moment to pull out the bars. In a few minutes, we’ll be well away from here.” His wings extended, and he made a little hop over to the barred window where he wrapped powerful hands around a bar as thick as anchor chain. He pulled, dislodging bits of stone, cracking the mortar and forcing iron to submit to brute strength.
A little more. Sibyl clasped her hands together, giddy at the thought of leaving this place and having a life, a real life together.
The stone began to crumble, and the first bar was freed. They’d need only two more to make their escape. Shadrach had started on the second bar when an unholy cold seeped into the room and into her bones. Sibyl recognized the presence of a ghost even if she couldn’t see it. Her heart caught in her throat, and she looked for a new way out. They’d have no time for windows.
Too late.
Every candle lit at once.
Even Shadrach, so consumed in his task, hesitated, then turned around slowly.
A laugh dripping with malice murmured in the shadows. “Going somewhere, Shadrach?” The Sorceress manifested between them.
“Milady.” The second bar was still in Shadrach’s hand. “I can explain. Someone has tampered with these bars.”
Izabel shook her head. “Long time have I been here, my ugly man. Long enough to know your plan. Think I would let you steal my prize?”
“Madam, it’s not what you think.”
Her mouth curled into a snarl, and she sna
pped her hand in his direction, conjuring a ball of lightning. It struck a pitcher on a table, shattering it into tiny pieces.
Sibyl ran at her and screamed. “Let him alone!”
Izabel knocked her aside with the flick of a finger. Her fury was for her servant alone.
Sibyl was no match for Izabel in her mortal state and worse yet, her knotted belt had disappeared. She had no way to summon the winds to her aid.
Shadrach moved toward Sibyl, but she shook her head as subtly as she could. They had to appease the old hag if only to give them time.
Izabel’s breath rattled in her bony chest. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did you honestly think I didn’t know you visited this girl?”
She took another step, her eyes flashing like candle light.
“She’s mine now, Gargoyle. You cannot have her.”
“Milady—”
“Silence!”
The hearth came to life, and every loose object in the room jumped to her temper.
“I can make a thousand of you, Shadrach. I don’t need you. I don’t need your treachery.”
“I’ve served you faithfully, madam.”
“Now you need serve me no longer.” Her eyes narrowed into black slits, and she raised both hands palm side up. “Fire for the cauldron to melt the fat. Melt the stone just like that.” Izabel pointed her crooked finger at him, shaking with the palsy of madness and age. Shadrach roiled in agony, his body curling into itself, desperate to evade the scourge she inflicted.
A melting curse!
More ancient words in a tongue Sibyl hadn’t heard in a long time. But she knew its power. How could she stop her?
She grabbed Izabel’s book and tore out a handful of pages, feeding them to a fat candle that ate them up greedily.
Izabel’s eyes bugged out, outraged at the desecration. She lashed at Sibyl like a woman possessed, knocking her against the table littered with jars of live snakes and toads. Sibyl cracked her head against the back of the table and sagged to the floor. Broken glass was everywhere, much of it on her.
Books, papers and potions buried her, and she grappled over several broken jars thick with poisons. She read the label of one clay pot and then another. Henbane, toad eyes, mugwort, mallow. No, she thought. No good.
She reached into the pit of broken glass and something stabbed her. When she drew her hand away, a banded snake in red, yellow and black had sunk its fangs deep. She choked back a sob and whispered a prayer for clemency.
They had been so close to bliss. Once more, it would be stolen from them.
Her breath grew short, and her eyes widened, suddenly aware the room had become darker. She stared at Izabel, a thin smile creasing her face. “You’ve lost, witch. You’ll not have me to quench your lust.” She pulled the snake off her flesh and tossed it at the crone.
“No!” Izabel shrieked. “You’ll not die. Not yet.”
She tried to get up, but fell. So cold.
The wound was a mortal one. It wouldn’t be long now.
Sibyl sat on the floor, musing to herself. How many people get to die twice in one lifetime? And then another thought struck her. She had pulled the Death card. The card that foretold of a sacrifice. Could it be… Was the card meant for her after all?
Shadrach ran to her. “No, Sibyl. Not again. Please.”
“I had to do it, my love. For you. For us. I’m sorry.”
Izabel shrieked with rage, hunting through her vials of foul potions, searching for an antidote. There wasn’t one. Not for this. Not in time.
When she opened her eyes again, Shadrach had her in his warm wide arms.
“I’m here, my love. Can you hear me?”
She nodded weakly. It was getting harder to breathe. And it was so dark. She could barely see him anymore.
“How could you leave me again?”
Sound faded. Touch. Smell. Taste. Gone. She had taken this road before. She was dying.
Shadrach wept. With her last strength, she touched his face, then closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, it didn’t surprise her to know she was still here. The dead never leave the Isla de Sempiterno.
Shadrach held her body tight, but it disappeared, and in its place was her ghost. His hands went right through her.
“Sibyl!”
Sibyl rematerialized and reached up to touch his face. Izabel’s spell didn’t miss its mark entirely. The left side of his face appeared sunken and soft, looking more like the remains of a lava flow. Shadrach’s mouth had deformed and she wasn’t sure if he could even see out of that left eye.
“I’m sorry, Shadrach. I wanted to give you time to escape.”
“I would’ve never left you.”
“You must leave me now, my love. You cannot let my death be in vain.”
Shadrach glanced at the old crone still grumbling for her loss. “It won’t be in vain.” He stood up and approached his mistress with dangerous intentions. What was he doing? Sibyl tugged at his arm to no avail.
Izabel glared at the both of them. “Stay your murderous thoughts, my ugly troll. You cannot kill me.” She snapped her fingers at Shadrach as if to wake him from his suicidal trance. “Heed my words, fool. There are many ways to die, some so painful the screams can be heard long after death. You might be willing to throw your life away, but take a care if you don’t want your woman to suffer.”
She touched him on the forehead, and Shadrach recoiled in horror. His eyes went wild with fear, and he clutched Sibyl to his breast. He bowed his head to Izabel and shuddered. “Your will be done, milady.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say.”
What did the crone show him to warrant such obedience? He could not speak it, and he lowered his eyes, as if too ashamed to even look at her.
Izabel growled an order. Patefacio! And a stone-hewn dome at the far end of the room scraped open, showering the room with bits of gravel and sand.
Sunlight poured in and Izabel grimaced. “Stupid girl. Your suicide was in vain. Your spirit is all I need. But I must wait for the moon to rise in its fullness before my spell will work. ’Tis fitting that your guard should be he who loves you. For it will be his punishment to keep you safe for me.” She snapped her fingers at Shadrach. “Put her on that pedestal,” she said pointing to a platform beneath the opening at the ceiling.
Sibyl had substance again, that partial form that had mass but no weight. Shadrach lifted her gently, pressing her against his chest. “Forgive me, my love. Forgive me.”
He lifted her to the pedestal and as their arms separated from one another, Sibyl felt her body harden as stiff as stone, just before everything went dark.
The last thing she heard was Shadrach…weeping.
Chapter Twenty-One
Koko was waiting for Daltry and Luísa at Sibyl’s hut when they returned from the Oracle. He clapped his little hands heralding their approach, then jumped into Luísa’s arms and kissed her on the cheek.
“Are you still here, beast?” She cuddled him like a newborn, tickling his whiskers until he surrendered a toothy grin.
Daltry lifted the leather flap that served as a door and allowed Luísa to enter.
Sibyl had not returned. He pulled out her rope belt from his pocket. It was still solid and whole. How was that possible? Anything she’d worn entered her ghostly world. He squeezed, crushing the knots against his flesh to prove to himself his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Coarse fibers scratched his skin and the knots were hard and tight. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“It probably slipped off her, Xander. She’s a wee bit of a thing.”
His throat tightened. “I fear for her. It’s like a stone in my gut.”
Luísa took the rope belt from his hands and bade him to sit for a while. “Rest, Xander. You’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe it wasn’t even her belt.”
But it was. Only Sibyl wore such belts. And this one had been worn. The ends were frayed, and the knots were as stiff as old knuckles. Something was amiss. H
e just hadn’t figured it out yet.
“I know my sister. She’d not stay away this long on purpose.”
Instinct told him they had gone as far as they could. There was no way to get Luísa to the crypt in time—not with everyone hunting them. With his last ally missing, he had to salvage what he could or risk losing Luísa as well. He pulled a plantain from his satchel and offered the fruit to Luísa. “Eat,” he ordered. “We’ll leave on the evening tide. I know where we can find a sturdy currach that I can liberate for our purposes.”
“And what of Sibyl?”
Daltry took Luísa’s hand and pulled her to his lap. “I’ll have to trust that she’ll return when she can. She is a ghost after all. And no mortal weapon can hurt her. But you, my love, are in far more serious danger. The entire island knows you’re here now. I can’t risk your life any further. I have to get you out of here while there’s still time.”
“That’s my choice, Inglés, not yours.” She got up and walked over to where Sibyl’s cards still lay. She picked up the only card still face up, and showed it to him. It was the picture of the skeleton with the sickle, a dour omen if there ever was one. “I’m not finished here yet.”
Spoiled, arrogant chit. Did danger have to smack her on the arse? He kicked the table over, scattering the cards and their gruesome messages. “Oh, yes you are. There are creatures on this island who laugh at the foibles of the mortal world. There are things far worse than death.”
“My mind is made up, Xander. Help me or don’t, but I will finish what I came here to do.”
Daltry jerked Luísa toward him and then hesitated. He glanced at the doorway and drew her behind him. “Someone’s coming.”
There was a wolf at the door, a familiar scent, but he feared not a friendly one. “Show yourself, brother.”
A long bony hand parted the leather door flap, and a man dragging his left leg slid inside.
Daltry’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Silas. Worthless dog carcass. What do you want?”
Silas turned his nose away from Daltry and turned toward Luísa. “My business is with the mistress, renegade.”
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