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Stones of Power- Hellstone & Maelstrom

Page 23

by Jenna Grey


  “Harder for poor Bram, you evil sod!”

  Her uncle’s expression tightened, and he suddenly looked feral.

  “He should have kept his nose out of my business!”

  Polly couldn’t help but wonder just how much her uncle knew about what happened up on the Moors. He knew they had gone there, but did he have any idea why? Did he know about the Torinstone? There was only one way to find out.

  “It was all for nothing anyway,” Polly said. “A useless waste of his life. We should never have gone up there.”

  “Why did you go up there?” Gaunt asked.

  “We had to be sure you had the stone. We should have listened to Bert’s son; he was quite certain you already had it, but Bert wouldn’t listen.”

  Polly watched Gaunt’s face carefully, trying to gauge whether her lie had been convincing enough.

  “The stubborn old fool always thought he knew best,” Gaunt said. “A blustering old idiot who thinks he has power.”

  “You have the Hellstone, so what? ” Bert had told her that Gaunt’s arrogance was his greatest weakness. Polly had to believe he was right. “Bert’s no fool, and he will find me and save me. God help you when he does.”

  “Oh, we have far more than the Hellstone, you foolish child. You have no idea of the power we now possess.” Gaunt had a smile on his face that made Polly want to put her fist into it and keep pummelling. “I do admire your loyalty and trust in him, though, misplaced as it is.”

  Polly tried not to acknowledge what he was saying, but she knew that every word he spoke was the truth. But Bert had promised her that if something existed, he could find it – and she still existed. She had to believe that Bert could make good his promise because if not she was left with nothing.

  Polly pulled back her shoulders and locked her knees to stop them giving way completely.

  “Why did you choose me to be the sacrifice. What have I ever done to you?”

  “She has a right to know,” a woman’s voice said from the shadows. “Tell her.”

  Polly looked across to where the voice had come from and could dimly make out a shape there, a woman, her face half hidden. She suddenly felt her bladder weaken because there was something in that voice, something terrible. Polly knew, without question, that the creature who had spoken wasn’t human. Gaunt hesitated, looking between the shadowed shape and Polly, undecided.

  “Very well,” he finally said, “although I see no reason to tell her anything.”

  The woman’s reply came like a chill winter wind:

  “I think someone has a right to know why they’re going to die.”

  Gaunt gave a grudging nod.

  “I’m afraid you have your family to blame for your demise, my dear. They thought they could deny me what was rightfully mine. My father, your grandfather, found out that we were searching for the Hellstone and tried to stop us. He could have shared in our glory, but the sanctimonious old bastard was arrogant enough to try and defy me.”

  “So you murdered him,” Polly finished.

  “Of course, what was I supposed to do? He threatened to move Heaven and Earth to stop me. I did make it quick,” he said, as if Polly should be impressed he’d shown his father such mercy.

  “He was your father!” Polly spat.

  “He was nothing!”

  Polly could hardly believe what she was hearing, and she didn’t want to hear any more because she knew that it would be terrible, but the longer she kept this monster talking the greater the chance that Bert and Finn would arrive to rescue her.

  “You killed Nana as well, didn’t you?”

  Gaunt looked a little uncomfortable.

  “Unfortunately that was necessary. My father told my mother too much and knowing the danger she was in, she made provisions to protect herself. Those protections kept her safe for many years.”

  “But you still killed her in the end,” Polly said, her words forcing their way out through a marble that had lodged in her throat.

  “Yes. I regretted the necessity of that. I did love her in my own way.”

  “How could you do that to an angel like her? I knew you were evil, but dear God, you are going to rot in the lowest regions of Hell for that,” Polly said.

  “Well, no, actually I’m not,” her uncle said, a simpering smile on his lips. Polly had no idea what he meant by that.

  “Did you murder my parents as well?” Polly asked.

  “Ah, yes... unfortunate. Your grandmother, in a moment of weakness, told them too much. Our family really didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut. It seemed prudent to remove any potential threat. They died instantly; they wouldn’t have known anything about it.”

  Polly couldn’t bear to hear any more. So many deaths; everyone she had ever loved stolen from her by this monster. Everything he had said suddenly crashed down on Polly; her whole family dead at his hands. She felt such hatred at that moment that if she could have got to him, she would have ripped his heart out.

  “So you decided I should be the sacrifice just to tidy up loose ends?” Polly asked, her voice poisonous. “I’m just the last of many, aren’t I? All so that you can play God.”

  “Power demands sacrifice. You should know that, my dear.”

  The woman stepped out of the shadows then, moving forward just a few inches. Polly was struck dumb by her beauty, although she was still half hidden in the shadows and half of her face obscured – the other half glowed gold in the light of the flickering bulb, a luminescent beauty.

  “There is no need to taunt the poor child, Magician. Haven’t you taken enough from her already? Leave her in peace, and allow her some dignity.” She turned just a little to face Polly and pulled her veil forwards to cover the shadowed side of her face. “I truly regret that your life must be sacrificed, child. I wish there was another way, but an oath was made to the gods, and so you must die. I regret that because I too have seen your courage and I have great respect for you.”

  “That makes it all worthwhile then,” Polly said. “Who the Hell are you, anyway?”

  Her uncle laughed, a really hard belly laugh, covering his hand with his mouth to try and hold it in.

  The woman stepped fully out of the shadows then, and Polly saw her entire face. She dragged in a gasp of air, pure terror flooding through her body. The other side of the woman’s face was a parchment covered skull, the grey skin drawn taut, peeling back over her teeth in a rictus grin; her eye was clouded white, dead and shrunken inside its socket. It was so revolting that Polly could hardly bear to look at it.

  “Allow me to introduce you,” her uncle said. “Polly, this is...”

  “Hel,” Polly finished for him.

  Polly looked at the hideous claw that was her left hand and felt real fear. One touch of it brought instant death.

  “I was punished beyond the crime and the only way to restore myself is for there to be a sacrifice, someone to take my place in Helheim,” Hel said. “The only way to escape the realm is for a soul to replace the one who leaves. Your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

  Polly let out a growl of pure rage.

  “Oh, will you please cut the bullshit? I don’t give a damn about your curse or punishment. You have no right to take my life to make yours better. I know I’m going to live to see all of you pay for what you’ve done. I’m going to be the one standing at the end of this!”

  The goddess turned her death face to Polly and said:

  “I regret to say that you are wrong, child. Spend what time you have left making peace with whatever gods you serve and pray for their mercy in the next life. Your time in this one is over.”

  And with that, she and Gaunt left the room.

  Polly sat for a moment in the silence, numb and lost in total shock. Pray to whatever god you serve? Perhaps she would pray, but it wouldn’t be for her immortal soul – that wasn’t going anywhere. She kept remembering what Liam had said: that he had seen her with the stone in her hand and that she was going to get through this.
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  If you never believe anything else, believe this.

  When they had been back in Sigurd’s burial site, she had never held the stone in her hand, only the sword, and Liam had seen her holding a stone. Somehow, in the future, she was going to put this right, just as he said she would. She had to believe that.

  At least they’d had the decency to leave the light on for her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It must have been quite a while later, although Polly wasn’t sure how long because she’d dozed a couple of times, that the door opened and Dalbert Winchard walked in.

  “Oh God, that’s all I need,” she mumbled.

  “Hello Princess, not quite so cocky now, are you? Oh, I see you untied yourself. Well, that suits me fine.”

  “How’s the neck?” Polly asked.

  Winchard’s mouth twisted into a vile parody of a smile, his bulbous little eyes, raking over her body, making it quite clear what his intentions were.

  “Oh, a lot finer than yours is going to be in a few minutes.”

  Polly snatched at the first thing that came into her head.

  “And if I scream really loudly, what do you think my uncle will do if he finds you down here molesting his sacrifice? He told me he punished you before for what you tried to do. I hope it bloody well hurt.”

  Winchard laughed.

  “A slap on the wrist, that’s all, and Gaunt’s not here – it’s just me, a couple of the group and the lady. Scream all you want.”

  Polly stood, shrinking back against the wall, knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to stop him from taking what he wanted, not this time. She had nothing to use to defend herself, and he’d already proved that he was a lot stronger than her. He wasn’t a large man, but he had a solid weight, and she was no match for him in a one-on-one struggle.

  “He won’t be gone forever and when he finds out what you’ve done...”

  Winchard gave her a look that made her marrow shrivel inside her bones.

  “he’s got more than enough to keep him occupied right now, and he needs me for the ritual. As long as you’re in one piece, he’s not going to give a damn what I do to you.”

  Polly felt a tremor of fear run through her because she knew he was right. She backed away, trying to get around to the door. It wasn’t open, but he hadn’t locked it, and if she could get there, she might be able to get out and trap him in there.

  “You don’t need to take it by force,” she said, desperately trying to buy time. “I’ll give you what you want. There’s no point in my fighting any more, is there? You’re going to take what you want anyway.”

  He gave her a suspicious look and said:

  “What are you up to?”

  Polly pulled her shoulders back, using the wall to support her, and said:

  “You’ve made it pretty clear you’re going to hurt me if I resist. I don’t like pain – it’s not rocket science.” That got a raised eyebrow.

  Winchard moved forwards, edging closer with that same terrible look on his face.

  “Where’s the fun in that? I want you to squeal, bitch. I owe you.”

  Polly closed her fingers around the piece of wire in her jean’s pocket. If he did rape her, he was going to do it half blind.

  Winchard dived at her, and he was faster than she had imagined for someone of his porcine form. He snatched and grabbed her hair, lacing his fingers into it and yanking her head back. She brought her knee up into his groin, just as she had with Liam, and this time it did hit home. Winchard howled his pain, letting go of her hair to double up and clutch at his groin with both hands. She didn’t hesitate but brought her knee up hard in his face, and she heard his nose crunch as it broke. His thick glasses flew across the room to clatter to the floor. Blood spurted out from his smashed nose over her furry boot as Winchard staggered backwards, howling like a wounded animal. He screamed, long and hard, and if the people upstairs hadn’t heard, then they were all stone deaf.

  He snarled and charged at her, holding his hand under his nose to try and stop the bleeding. He was so enraged that Polly was certain that he’d forgotten that he couldn’t kill her. If he got to her, she was in for real hurt. She darted around him, desperate to get to the door now, but he caught Polly by the wrist and yanked her hard, his grip like a pincer; he pulled her so hard that she toppled. He was still blinded by blood, snatching out wildly with his other hand, just trying to grab any bit of her he could. He threw himself down on top of her and held her by the throat, both hands closing over her neck. Then he began to squeeze.

  “Fucking bitch,” he said, the blood bubbling from his lips over the words. Polly knew she had just one chance now, the only chance, and she had to take it. She let the wire drop down from her sleeve and stabbed the wire hard towards his right eye. He turned his head at the last moment, and it just scraped across the side of his face, not doing any real damage. He let go of her throat and wrenched the wire from her, flinging it away and closing his hands back around her throat, this time squeezing hard.

  Polly couldn’t breathe, his fingers pressing hard into her neck, cutting off the oxygen to her brain; there was a cosmos of pink stars in her head that turned to red mist, and she began to lose consciousness. She could feel something else come around her neck now – a tie? The knot pressed against her windpipe and she felt blackness closing in on her. She was aware of Winchard unfastening her jeans with clumsy movements, but it didn’t feel real, as if it were happening to someone else, far, far away – all she knew was that she couldn’t breathe. She needed precious air, nothing else mattered. Her hands were free, and she tried to pull the constriction from around her neck, but she had no strength, her resistance pathetic and feeble.

  Then suddenly she could breathe again, dragging in great lungfuls of air and desperately trying to wrench the constriction from around her neck. She was aware of someone else in the room, of movement around her, but it was elusive, just butterfly wings fluttering around her; she couldn’t focus on what was happening. She struggled to sit up and saw.

  Hel stood in the doorway, her face even more terrible, more rage-filled than ever and all of her wrath was aimed at Dalbert Winchard.

  “You dare to commit sacrilege against the Chosen One? You vile piece of pusillanimous filth!”

  There were pathetic protests from the grovelling Winchard, who was on his knees now, a trembling heap of humanity; blood was still pouring from his broken nose. Polly dragged herself back over to sit against the wall, still lost in a haze of oxygen deprivation but aware of what was going on around her now.

  Hel moved towards Winchard, who was mewling, like some tormented animal caught in a trap. Hel reached out with her left hand, the shrivelled stump, the clawed dead fingers, just blackened sticks. She touched him on the shoulder, just a simple action, almost like a benediction. Nothing happened for a moment. Then Winchard froze, as rigid as stone, as if some Medusa had touched him. He toppled forwards onto his face, still in that same crouched position, and Polly knew that he’d breathed his last. Polly looked up at Hel, who just stood, towering over him, a triumphant look on her face. It was an expression that didn’t marry well on the two halves of her face. She turned to Polly, her look softening now.

  “I’m sorry that you had to suffer that indignity, my dear. He’s paid for his profanity. Are you injured?”

  Polly tried to speak but her throat was so sore she had to force the words out.

  “Sore throat, but I’m okay. I suppose I have to say a grudging thank you.”

  Hel’s face dropped into sadness; she pulled the veil forward to cover the dead half of it and Polly was grateful for it.

  “I do realise how hard this is for you, please don’t think me unfeeling. I do find it hard to express positive emotion, but I do feel it. I can see your suffering, and it makes me want to weep, even though I can’t.”

  Polly wanted to rage at her, but she couldn’t because she sensed that she meant what she said.

  “I can see you mean that,
but I don’t understand why any of this is happening. Why do I have to be sacrificed? Isn’t there some other way?”

  Hel lowered her face, and Polly knew there was guilt there. She didn’t want to do this. Perhaps Polly’s salvation lay, not in escape but mercy.

  “At the moment, I can only take physical form here on this plane for a short time. Your uncle has promised to release me from my eternal torment once I’ve fulfilled my promise to him,” Hel said, looking up then. “If I am released then another must take my place in Helheim. It must be someone worthy.”

  “Then, I’m not going to die? I’m going to Hell, to take your place there?” Polly asked, incredulous. That she hadn’t bargained for. “No, no, you can’t do that to me, Please.”

  Hel moved closer and knelt just out of reach. For one awful moment, Polly thought she was going to stretch out her hand and touch her.

  “I truly am sorry, dear child, but I have suffered this torment for eternity, and I cannot live with it any longer. I would give anything for it to be otherwise, but I can’t do this any more.”

  “This is bloody monstrous. I mean will I look like you, be like you?” Polly said it with such venom that she could see Hel was wounded by it. Pain tore through her throat as her bruised vocal cords forced the words out.

  “No, you will be spared that – a mercy I didn’t receive!” Hel spat the words out, and Polly knew that she’d really pissed her off.

  “I’m sorry, that was cruel,” Polly said. “I didn’t mean it; I really didn’t.”

  “I know, it’s not in your nature to be cruel. Alas, it is in mine, which is why I found myself in that position. I did deserve punishment but not one as cruel as this.”

  “You know what will happen if you give my uncle all of that power. He’ll raise an army to take over the world. Why would you do something like that?”

  Polly looked across at Winchard’s corpse still in that strange position, his nose pressed against the hard dirt floor. She suddenly realised that if rigor mortis set in, he’d keep that grotesquely deformed gnome face. A strange thought to have in the middle of all of this.

 

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