by Jenna Grey
“Nothing like as bad as the things I thought about him and said to him,” Finn said.
Bert pulled himself to his feet and walked across to the altar, pulling a cloth from his pocket and closing it over the Hellstone.
“This is going somewhere safe,” Bert said. “Nobody else must ever be able to use this.”
Finn pulled a cloth from his jean’s pocket and picked up the Torinstone.
Polly suddenly remembered something Hel had said to her.
“Hel told me that she’d already opened a gateway through to this world for some of her army of the dead. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I think that some have already come through or can come through. Can we use the Torinstone to send them back?”
“Well, that was the reason it was created I imagine,” Bert said, as he looked around at the devastation. “I’m not sure what the coroner is going to make of all this, but I think an anonymous phone call might be in order. It will look as if they all died of heart failure. I expect they’ll put it down to a gas leak or something because I’m certain they won’t want to think it could be anything more.”
“I’m trying not to gloat,” Polly said, but as she looked at her uncle’s body, she did feel a little ripple of pleasure.
Bert gave a tight-lipped smile.
“Well, you should be gloating just a little. As your uncle’s only living relative, you’ll inherit his estate. I think your grandmother must be a very happy soul right now. You, young lady, are a very wealthy woman.”
“I’m an alive young lady, and I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you two.”
“If it wasn’t for Dad and Liam.” Finn corrected, as he helped Bert to his feet.
As Polly helped Bert to the door, she looked back once over her shoulder at the horror they’d left behind them.
“Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t the end of this?” Polly asked.
“Because it isn’t,” Bert replied, as he closed the door behind them. “It isn’t.”
In the darkness, in that other place, a tiny pinpoint of light appeared, and one by one shapeless forms began moving towards it, just one thought on their mind – escape.
Maelstrom
Book Two of the Stones of Power Series
Jenna Grey
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Text and cover image copyright 2019 by Jenna Grey. All rights reserved.
Contains adult themes, strong language and scenes of a violent or sexual nature.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: I would like to thank ‘Dino’ for his invaluable help with technical advice and support on police procedure and protocol. He knows who he is, even if nobody else does. :) I really couldn’t have written this book without him.
OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
The Tamarei series:
Tamarei, Book One: Coming of Age; Tamarei, Book Two: Dark Gods; Tamarei, Book Three: Caranthus; Tamarei, Book Four: Feast of Fools; Tamarei, Book Five: Avenging Angel; Tamarei, Book Six: Twilight of the Gods; Book Seven: Fallen Angel; The Sorcerer’s Tale; The Guardian of the Gate; Blood Rites; Finding Gideon.
The Faerie series:
Book One: Faerie.
Book Two: The Glass Mountain.
Book Three: Wilderling Wood.
Book Four: Witchfinder.
Book Five: The Shadow King.
Book Six: Dragonstone.
The Fortunata series:
Fortunata, Book One: The Lightning Struck Tower; Fortunata, Book Two: Deus Ex Machina; Book Three: Lord of Misrule.
Miscellaneous:
The Whisperer.
A letter from De Sade.
The Stones of Power series:
Book One: Hellstone.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
Polly stumbled up the narrow stairs, urged on by the stab of a hand in the small of her back. She fell hard, grazing her knees on the rough stone and she began to cry, hot tears stinging her eyes. She still hadn’t abandoned all thoughts of rescue; she knew there was still a chance, a slender, desperate hope that she would live through this. Bert and Finn would come to save her. She took the last step and ducked through the low doorway into a large, open room – some kind of warehouse; it was rotted with age, an ancient edifice that had long since been abandoned and left to decay. A weighty silence fell as she walked in, the faint murmur of voices dying away instantly as she entered. When she listened more carefully, though, she thought she could hear water lapping against stone; were they on a wharf, beside a river perhaps?
She scanned the room, taking in the scene, almost in a trance now because this surely couldn’t be real. Twelve figures dressed in hooded robes formed a circle in the centre of the room – her uncle’s coven. Others, hired muscle, loitered in the background to make sure that nobody interrupted their unholy ceremony. Some faces she recognised from her uncle’s gatherings; some were strangers. They watched her silently with unconcealed eagerness as she walked in amongst them. She wondered what Gaunt had promised them in return for their treachery – wealth and power no doubt. He would betray them, just as he had betrayed her.
And there, in the centre, a figure that Polly could barely look at, so awful was its presence – the goddess Hel herself – a terrifying sight that stole Polly’s last ounce of courage from her. The creature was dressed in a long grey robe, pristine and lovely on the right side of her body; her beautiful face was serene, a radiant smile touching her lips. On the other side, though, her true nature revealed – a cadaverous rotting skull, the eye sunken in its socket, the teeth pulled back in a rictus grin. Her tattered rags clung to her skeletal figure, the dreadful rotting hand that could deal out instant death hanging limply at her side. This creature bridged the barrier between life and death – and she was here to claim Polly’s soul.
Two of the guards grabbed Polly and dragged her towards the sacrificial table. Polly saw the dagger lying there, an evil looking thing, elaborate, blessedly sharp. If she could get to it, better to die by her own hand than let them perform the ritual – at least then she’d have a chance of going to a better place and seeing her grandmother again. If they completed it, all she had ahead of her was an eternity in the lowest reaches of Hell. There was no point in struggling; she could never escape from their fierce grip; all she could do was to try and keep what little dignity she had left.
Fear, real numbing terror set in. She finally understood that this was going to happen, that she was going to die. She began shaking uncontrollably; her bladder let go and she felt pee trickling down her legs to pool at her feet.
“Please don’t do this to me,” Polly pleaded, turning to Hel. She saw that tears were snaking their way down the good side of the creature’s face, as if she really did have regrets, but Hel just shook her head and turned away.
And then she heard the voice behind her, cutting across the awful silence in the room.
“Nobody is doing anything to you.”
Polly looked up and stared at the elderly man standing in the doorway, dressed in a rather tattered old suit and looking for all the world as if he should be standing at the Post Office counter collecting his pension, instead of facing a room full of black magicians and armed thugs. His innocent countenance was a wonderful lie: Bert Fountain was one of the
most powerful magicians alive. Beside him, was the person Polly wanted to see more than anyone else in the world, his son, Finn.
But then she realised that it wasn’t Finn – it was his twin brother, Liam.
Liam is far better if it comes to a fight, Bert had said. And he was right. Finn wasn’t the fighter. It was Liam who was the stronger of the two brothers, Liam, the twin that had died at birth, but who had wanted so much to live that he had forced his way into his brother’s body and stolen half of his life. It was Liam that had come to save her, not Finn.
Polly sank to her knees, all strength gone from her, too weak and numb with relief to keep her legs under her.
Her uncle turned to the intruders and for a moment showed no reaction at all. Then he laughed.
“Well, I’m truly amazed that you found us, you really are a master of your art, Fountain. I salute you as one magician to another, but what exactly are you going to do against all of us?” he asked with a sneer. “You always were a fool.”
“And you always took shortcuts, Gaunt, never finding out all of the facts,” Bert replied.
Liam smiled and held up his closed fist, uncurling his fingers slowly to reveal something in his hand. It was a theatrical gesture, intended to attract attention. It worked; all eyes were on it, whatever ‘it’ was. All of them knew that it was something terrible, something they should fear. In Liam’s palm lay the Torinstone, just a small round stone, but so heavy with enchantment that Polly could feel its energy vibrating through the air, its power roiling around it like a storm. Polly glanced up at Hel, saw the horror on her face, and knew in that instant that she wasn’t going to die today.
Gaunt’s gaze travelled down to the Torinstone, and just for an instant, there was a look of uncertainty on his face.
“More parlour tricks?” he asked.
“More magic,” Liam said. “Let Polly come with us, and we’ll let you live. It’s a more than fair offer after all the misery you’ve caused us.”
Gaunt shot a look across to the guards as they moved towards Bert and Finn. Bert merely raised his hand and made a slight movement with it, as if he were flicking off a fly. The two men flew backwards across the room, smashing into the wall with incredible force and dropping to the floor either dead or unconscious. Bert never gave the other two a chance to move, he threw his hand towards them, and they collapsed where they stood, out cold.
“Impressive,” Gaunt said, “but you’ll find it a little harder with the rest of us.” He turned towards the robed figures, motioning with his hand towards Bert and Liam, but none of the coven made a move. They looked from one to the other, uncertain. “Don’t just stand there, you fools. They’re no match for us if we work together.” But still they didn’t move.
“Come over here, Polly,” Bert said, beckoning her. “They won’t stop you.”
“I will,” Hel said, moving forward and raising her left hand. “I will not let you keep me from my freedom.”
Polly never saw Hel move – her speed was terrifying. She lunged at them, pushing Bert aside with her good hand and reaching out to touch Liam with her vile claw. Polly saw Liam drop and the Torinstone tumble from his hand. Without thinking, Polly made a grab for it, closing her hand over it. And in that instant, she knew just what she had to do.
She held out the Torinstone and whispered the incantation; it poured into her like water filling a bowl, even though she hadn’t known it just moments before. Now she knew it and understood. She closed her other hand over Bert’s arm to protect him from its magic. It was too late for Liam, too late for Finn, who was still there, trapped inside that lifeless body, but she could at least save Bert. She spoke the incantation; Hel screamed her fear and rage at Polly, but it was too late for her, too late for all of them. Hel was gone, just gone, no fanfare, or fuss – she simply ceased to be – at least in this reality. Around her the others dropped to the ground, as if someone had cut invisible strings and Polly captured the image of her uncle’s face to keep in her memory as he pitched forward, quite dead. She was sitting alone in a room full of corpses, only she and Bert still breathing.
Polly dropped the stone, horrified by what she’d done. When she turned her hand over and looked down at it, she saw the entire surface of her palm had gone; it was a burnt and blackened ruin. The pain suddenly hit her, but she pushed it aside, dropping down beside Liam’s body, Finn’s body. Polly wanted to cry, but couldn’t; she was empty. There was no sign of life, no pulse, just a dying warmth as whatever was left of their life force slipped away from them. It wasn’t fair, just wasn’t fair after all they’d been through. Then she started to cry.
“What?” Bert woke and sat up, disoriented, his eyes vacant. He lifted his hand and winced as he felt what must have been a dreadful bruise at the back of his head. Then he saw his sons’ body. “What happened?” he asked, looking around at the sea of corpses and then down at his sons’ lifeless body, his face a blank mask of shock.
Polly could barely talk through the tears and the gravel in her throat. Her words came out as a rasp.
“Hel touched him, them. They’re go—” Bert crawled forward, staring down at the lifeless form, stroking the sweat-damp hair back from his sons’ forehead.
“Finn wanted to come with me, of course he did, but Liam forced him out, took over and wouldn’t let him back in.” Bert had lost both of his sons, she had lost Finn and Liam, and there was nothing left for her now.
“We need to get the body back home. Yes, we need to take them home, although I have no idea how we’re going to manage. Liam drove us here. I... I have friends I can call who’ll help us. We’ll manage. There’s a phone...” Bert seemed numb, lost in shock, his expression one of stark bewilderment.
“I’ll take care of it,” Polly said, reaching forwards to get the phone from Liam’s pocket.
She screamed as the body lurched upwards and drew in a great gasp of air, dragging in oxygen as if he were drowning on it, his whole body shuddering.
Polly just stared at the resurrected corpse, fixed in shocked awe, not believing what she was seeing. Then she saw his eyes and the clear brightness of his aura. It wasn’t Liam.
“Finn?”
Finn looked around, his eyes unfocused, his face death pale.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking across at the sea of lifeless forms, “I was at home...”
“Just take a moment and get your breath back, son, we’re safe,” Bert said, tears already streaming down his cheeks.
“Liam pushed me out, I don’t remember any―” Bert never let him finish the sentence, but grabbed hold of him and examined him from top to toe. He let out a sigh of heartfelt relief when he realised that his son really was safe.
“I don’t understand, how is this possible? Hel touched you. You should be dead,” Polly said. Poor Finn had no idea at all what was going on and just sat open-mouthed, looking thoroughly bemused.
“The last thing I remember, I was at home, getting ready to come and save you. Then I woke up here.” Polly suddenly understood.
“Hel touched Liam, not Finn.”
“Of course. She takes the person’s soul, not their body. Liam’s soul was in possession of the body when she touched it; Finn wasn’t there.”
“Liam must have known when he came here to save me that there was a good chance that he wouldn’t make it out again. But he still came,” Polly said.
Finn gave an exasperated sigh.
“I wanted to come; I was coming, but Liam stopped me. I tried; I really tried.”
Bert smiled, but it was the saddest smile Polly had ever seen.
“He loved you both, and he wanted to see you both safe and happy, whatever the cost.”
And Polly knew that was the truth. Polly helped Bert to the door and just looked back once over her shoulder at the horror they’d left behind them.
“Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t the end of this?” Polly asked.
“Because it isn’t,” Bert replied, as he closed the do
or behind them. “It isn’t.”
In the darkness, in that other place, a tiny pinpoint of light appeared, and one by one shapeless forms began moving towards it, just one thought on their mind – escape.
CHAPTER ONE
Jack Blaine had never been one to suffer fools gladly, and if one more fool asked him for his ID and what he was doing here he was going to spill blood. It had taken him a good ten minutes to fight his way through the crowd of police, army, forensic technicians and other sundry professionals milling around the dilapidated warehouse before he could even get to the door. The whole place was a madhouse of cordons, cars and government vehicles; people were barking orders and giving directions, with what seemed like very little coordination. Beyond that was the police, trying desperately to keep the ghouls away. The warnings thrown out by the media that this might be a nerve gas attack seemed to have done nothing to dampen Joe Public’s enthusiasm for death and destruction. The first hint of murder and mayhem and they were there, like vultures, waiting to pick over the carcass.
A cat’s cradle of yellow tape ribboned the area, with news teams and reporters frantically trying to push their way through, the flashes from camera lights cutting through the mist-heavy air. The report that something untoward was going on in the old warehouse in Barking had reached the police just after 5 am, and they’d sent the first squad car at 5.24 – not a bad response time. He could only imagine their first reaction when they went in to find themselves confronted by a scene from a bad horror movie. Seventeen dead, that he knew of, and an altar laid out for human sacrifice.
He finally got through the door, and although he’d already been partly briefed he hadn’t quite been prepared for what he found there. The large room stank of mould and decay, damp rising from its rotted foundations; the high vaulted ceiling was still fitted with hoists for moving large cargo, the old ropes hanging like nooses from the rafters. It was what littered the floor, though, that captured all of his attention. The black-robed bodies lay sprawled across the floor in a strange untidy circle, like a ring of standing stones that had been toppled by a storm. Further back were four other bodies, dressed in standard combat gear, obviously there to prevent anyone interrupting the ceremony. He could see, even from this distance that they were all armed with some pretty heavy artillery. The place was swarming with forensic personnel, all swathed in white suits, masked and diligently bagging evidence. Blaine stood at the entrance, desperate to get in there and get a closer look, but he knew that invading the crime scene wasn’t going to win him any friends. He just hovered there, waiting for the opportune moment to get in there and find what they’d all missed. Eventually, a young police officer who had been standing around looking decidedly out of his depth made his way over. Blaine pulled out his ID, flashed it at the bemused youngster and put it away again before he had a chance to get a proper look at it.