“Ready?”
Mr. Proctor nodded. Mrs. Proctor turned to Belladonna.
“Raise your hands.”
Belladonna looked around, searching the shadows for any sign that someone was waiting for their chance to strike and save her. Mr. Proctor grinned.
“Expecting help?”
Belladonna looked at him sharply. He stepped aside and revealed a pile of mangled black feathers.
“It’ll take more than a few Night Ravens to stop us,” he cackled. “The centuries have dulled the skills of the Queen of the Dead, but we have been waiting and honing ours. We are sharp as damascene swords and this time the Empress will rise. When the—”
“That’s enough,” snapped Mrs. Proctor. “Raise your hands, Spellbinder.”
Belladonna did as she was told. All hope was gone. There was nothing she could do.
Mrs. Proctor leaned over her and went through her pockets. She smirked at the packets of Parma Violets and put them on the table. Mr. Proctor led Belladonna to a spot near the center of the gardens and turned her until she was facing the moon. She looked up; it wasn’t as bright as the blue moon in the Land of the Dead, but it was full and shining, though partially obscured by clouds.
“Wait!”
Mrs. Proctor scuttled over to them.
“Shoes.”
Belladonna’s heart sank. Mrs. Proctor took her right shoe, shook it, and put it back. Then she took the left shoe and smiled at the rattle. She tipped it up and the coin dropped into her hand.
“Well, well,” said Mr. Proctor. “I always wondered what those things looked like.”
Belladonna’s mind was racing. She knew she couldn’t save the world, that these were almost certainly her last moments, but she wasn’t going to let them have that coin. That, at least, she could do.
She spun around as they were admiring the noble and struck it from Mrs. Proctor’s hand. Mr. Proctor grunted and hit her hard. She fell to the ground, gasping, but it was too late—the glittering coin twirled above their heads, fell to the ground, and was gone.
“Where is it?” screamed Mrs. Proctor.
“There! It landed right there!”
“I can’t see it!”
They turned on Belladonna.
“What have you done? Where is it?”
“You can’t have it,” muttered Belladonna.
“What?” Mr. Proctor grabbed her and hoisted her off the ground. “What have you done to it? Bring it back!”
“I can’t,” said Belladonna, smiling. “It can only be seen by the Dead. The Living can only see them when they touch our skin.”
“Only be seen by the Dead?”
“By someone with a true heart. I’ll bet you don’t know a single person like that.”
Mr. Proctor dropped her to the ground in disgust, stalked back to the table, and picked something up. Belladonna slipped her shoes back on and stood up as he returned and placed it around her neck.
It was an amulet. A triangular amulet with a dark stone at its center.
“It’s a Nomial!” whispered Belladonna.
“Shut up,” said Mr. Proctor.
She reached up and touched it, but Mr. Proctor slapped her hand away.
“Begin!” intoned Mrs. Proctor, her human disguise falling away like oil until she stood in her true form: a sleek, black-eyed, ebony-winged Kere.
“Begin!” said Mr. Proctor, as his form too fell away, revealing what at first seemed to be another man, but as he turned toward the center of the circle, Belladonna could see that he was yet another creature from mankind’s collective nightmares.
He was tall and thin, thin enough for his bones to be seen stretching against their dark red envelope. His legs were mere spikes that dug into the ground like spear points, and his hands were bony claws. But it was his face that struck terror into her heart.
He didn’t have one.
It was just an oval, with no features whatsoever, dark red and smooth, and framed by greasy locks of long brown hair.
“What … what are you?” was all she managed to say.
“I am an Allu,” he said, though Belladonna had no idea how he was able to speak. “Like the Kere, we wait for death. We have waited since the sons of Marduk ruled the Mesopotamian plains. Waited for the Darkness to take its rightful dominion. Waited for this night.”
As he spoke, Belladonna became aware of the Shadow People. They were moving closer and were much more solid than they had ever been before. She could see them clearly as they crossed the open space of the gardens and formed a huge circle around Belladonna and the demon creatures.
The Kere and the Allu raised their hands, as if in supplication, and the Shadow People began to move. Around and around, always at the same speed and without a sound.
At first, Belladonna just watched, fascinated, but slowly she became aware of a low rumbling, as if a heavy truck were driving by. She looked at the Shadow People. Were they causing it? They never changed their pace, never wavered, just walked around and around.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the rumbling became louder, and soon Belladonna could see the dirt at her feet dancing with the vibration. And still the Shadow People walked.
“Make them rise, Spellbinder! Make them rise!”
Belladonna was about to refuse when the central stone in the Nomial around her neck began to glow. It was becoming hot too; she could feel it through her clothes. But it wasn’t the comforting warmth of a winter fire or the life-giving heat of the sun—it was the stifling heat of fever, like a disease coursing through her veins. She tried to ignore it, to concentrate on what was happening, but she felt sick. Hot and sick. Her ears were ringing and she began to shiver. And then, suddenly, she had the sensation of something crawling on her skin. No, not on her. In her. There was someone inside her head, shoving her aside, and she no longer had the strength to resist.
Then the Words came. The Words from her dream.
“Sag-en-tar na szi.”
Guardians of stone, arise.
“Sag-en-tar na szi.”
She kept repeating them, over and over, until their meaning seemed gone and the syllables were just sounds rolling around the circle, joining with the steps of the Shadow People and disappearing into the dark. Then, suddenly, directly opposite where she was standing, two stones suddenly broke through the earth and shot up, framing the moon between them. They were each about eight feet high and roughly carved.
Belladonna gasped and stepped backward, but the Allu moved her back into position facing the two stones. As he did so, other stones broke the surface until she was standing in a circle of nine mighty megaliths.
And still the Shadow People walked. Then, slowly, some of their number separated themselves from the ring and stood on either side of the two central stones.
Belladonna knew this was the end. She wanted to turn and run, but the someone else inside her mind was speaking different Words now. She could hear herself speaking them unhesitatingly in a voice that was not quite her own.
It was only with a supreme effort that she was able to focus, to gather enough energy to look out through her own eyes and see what was happening.
The clouds had cleared from the sky, and the moon seemed to sit on top of the two largest megaliths, closing the space between them. She could see the swing set through the gap, and then she couldn’t. There was just blackness.
And there was something else. Something between the steadily moving Shadow People and the mighty stone circle. A small figure with dishwater blond hair, running from stone to stone.
The creature within her hadn’t noticed, though. It just kept talking, kept saying the Words, and slowly, as she watched, the two lines of Shadow People on either side of the megaliths came together. They seemed to melt, like chocolate on a sunny day, into one formless mass. But the mass was gaining a shape and Belladonna knew what it was.
It was Margaret de Morville, the last Spellbinder and Empress of the Dark Spaces.
“Belladonna!”
The voice whispering into her ear was familiar.
“Belladonna! Can you hear me? It’s Steve! Where’s the Ninth Noble?”
Belladonna’s heart leapt; she forced herself forward, pushing the other thing aside.
“Over there…” Her voice sounded husky, as if she hadn’t spoken for weeks. “I threw it … I can’t see … They can’t see it either … Elsie…”
She glanced across the circle, but the Kere and the Allu were lost in adulation of their returning Empress.
“It’s alright. She’s here. Belladonna, you have to say the names. The names of the stones. When I tell you. Do you understand?”
“Yes…” And then the fever rose again and the thing inside her head shoved her aside. Her head spun as the unfamiliar Words echoed across the ancient circle once more.
She watched as Steve crept over to the place where the coin had fallen and spread the scrap of carpet from the school. Everything seemed slow, as if she were watching a film that was running at the wrong speed. Elsie materialized on the carpet and quickly found the coin, picked it up, and handed it to Steve, who ran to the last stone and placed it on a carved ledge.
“Now!”
The thing inside her heard the voice but didn’t recognize it. But it was afraid.
It was afraid.
Belladonna felt its fear and in that moment knew that it could be defeated. She called on every ounce of strength she had ever had: the strength that had seen her through the worst times in her life; the strength she had needed when her parents had left her alone forever; the strength she had called upon to fight Dr. Ashe; and the strength she had used every day at school when she had been taunted and teased just because she was different.
The names of the stones, she thought, I must say them!
The thing in her head seemed surprised, but Belladonna had no time to think about it. She had to speak.
“Aerona!” she blurted.
The thing fought back. Belladonna fell to her knees.
“Aerona!” she yelled, and no sooner was the name out of her mouth than one of the stones shot back into the earth, leaving a small gold coin spinning in the air where it had been.
“Morwenna! Gwerfyl!”
Two more stones vanished from the circle and two more coins spun, sparkling in the night.
“No!” screamed the Kere, running toward Belladonna with her bloodred hair flying and her teeth bared.
Belladonna looked up, unable to move away, waiting for the impact.
“Oh, no, you don’t!”
Steve jumped in front of Belladonna, a gleaming sword in his hand. The Kere laughed derisively, then leapt back in surprise as Steve wielded the mighty weapon as if he’d been training for this moment all his life.
“P-Paderau!” yelled Belladonna, scrambling to her feet. “Caniad!”
“Get back, little girl,” hissed the Allu, “and let my mistress in!”
He drew back his hand and hit her across the face again. Belladonna fell to the ground, stunned, and in a moment the thing was back and she could hear herself saying the Words once more.
And once more the ground rumbled and two of the stones rejoined their sisters.
“Belladonna!” yelled Steve. “Don’t give up!”
She struggled to regain control of her own mind, and as she did so, she saw the Allu creeping up behind Steve.
“Watch out!”
Steve glanced back, then deftly rolled away, springing to his feet and tossing the sword from hand to hand as he looked at the two creatures.
“Morwenna! Paderau!” yelled Belladonna. “Briallen!”
Only three stones remained and she could feel the thing in her head getting weaker, but the melting form on the other side of the circle was becoming more defined. She reached up and pulled the burning Nomial from around her neck. The thing inside her head vanished and she could think again.
“Steve! I think you have to break the circle! The Shadow People!”
Steve looked from the Kere and the Allu out to where the Shadow People continued their relentless circuits of the stone circle. He hesitated for a second and then the sword was gone and in its place he held what appeared to be a long pole that seemed far too unwieldy for him to handle easily, but once more he brandished it as if he had been born to it. He held it in the middle, like a tightrope walker, then spun around and swung it through the ring of Shadow People, scattering them to right and left like mown grass.
“Lowri!” yelled Belladonna. “Rhianwen!”
Another two stones disappeared and she became aware of something else. As the stones returned to the earth, Shady Gardens was vanishing too. She could see right through it, right to the church in the distance. The clock was striking—it was three o’clock.
“Belladonna!” Elsie was kneeling on her piece of carpet, desperate to help. “Look out!”
But the Kere had already grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, and Belladonna felt the weight of the goddess pinning her down.
“You will not defeat us a second time, Spellbinder!”
She looked into the pale face and the black eyes and for a second, for just a split second, it was gone. Like a television changing channels and then immediately changing back. One second it was the Kere holding her down in the dirt of Shady Gardens and the next second it was … Mrs. Evans. Steve’s mother! Belladonna gasped, but as soon as she’d seen it, it was gone and the Kere was back.
“Let’s see how well you resist with a little less blood in your veins!”
The Kere held up her index finger and ran it across Belladonna’s wrist. The long black nail was so sharp that at first she thought nothing had happened, then she saw the blood—her blood—running out and into the dirt.
“How are you feeling now?” sneered the Kere.
“I’m feeling fine, no thanks to you!” said a familiar voice.
Thwack!
The Kere slumped to the ground, and Belladonna found herself looking at the one person she had been longing to see.
“Gran!”
“The very one,” grinned Grandma Johnson. “Good job I always carry a spare crystal ball.”
She pulled her scarf from her neck and tied it tightly around Belladonna’s wrist.
“But how did you—?”
“The building is going. It’s nothing but mist. Now get up—you have something to finish, I think.”
Belladonna scrambled to her feet. On her right she could see Steve still scattering the Shadow People. The Allu was stalking across the circle toward him.
“Never you mind that, Belladonna, he can manage.”
Belladonna looked at her grandmother. She felt woozy from the loss of blood and was still shivering from the fever that the Nomial had induced, but she knew her Gran was right—the main thing was to get rid of the stones.
“Where was I up to?” she asked.
“The last one was Rhianwen, I think.”
Belladonna nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the Words come. Then she opened them and stepped forward, but before she could speak, another voice cracked through the air.
“Spellbinder!”
It was the faceless Allu. One claw was around Steve’s neck and had hoisted him into the air. The quarterstaff lay at his feet and as Belladonna watched, the weapon shrank back to an ordinary plastic six-inch ruler. He was defenseless.
“Restore the stones or your Paladin dies!”
She hesitated and looked back to Grandma Johnson and then to Elsie, but both just stared in horror at the scene before them.
“Say the last name, Belladonna, say it!” gasped Steve.
Belladonna bit her lip, then turned back to the melting mass and the final stone.
“Skatha!”
The stone vanished and the last anchor for the opening to the Dark Spaces was gone. The opaque blackness that remained in the space between where the tallest stones had been began to swirl and writhe, like a whirlpool, and slowly the Shadow People, the pieces of
the Dark Spaces, began to be pulled back into its vortex.
“Idiots!” screamed the Allu. “What have you done? You will pay with your lives. Starting with you, you sorry excuse for a Paladin.”
“I’m not done yet,” whispered Steve.
“You have dropped the Rod of Gram. Everyone knows that is the Paladin’s strength. That is the way they have all died in the end.”
“I’m not like everyone else,” said Steve, coughing slightly.
Belladonna stepped closer, holding her breath. She glanced at Elsie, who had her hands clasped in front of her, willing him to win.
“Stay back, Spellbinder!” commanded the Allu.
Steve coughed again. He looked over at Belladonna and Elsie and grinned.
“Watch this.”
He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and let go with a withering blast of white-hot fire. The Allu screamed, dropped Steve, and clawed at its faceless head, staggering around the circle until it came too close to the vortex and was grabbed by the Dark Spaces.
“Nooooo!” it howled.
But it was too late; the Allu was gone.
Belladonna smiled as Steve retrieved the ruler, but as she turned to speak to her grandmother she found herself face-to-face with the last of the Shadow People. For a moment they just stared at each other, then it grabbed her by her wounded wrist and started to drag her toward the vortex. She felt she should have been able to break its grip, but it was like a vice and was dragging her toward an eternity of nothing.
Whap! Crack!
The quarterstaff hit it squarely on what would have been its chin. It staggered back, letting go of Belladonna’s wrist. Steve hit it again, and this time it reeled back toward what little remained of the vortex, which grabbed the last of the Shadow People before dribbling away, like water down a drain, leaving only a fenced-in demolition site and a billboard promising “new luxury residential units soon.”
“Thanks.”
“Belladonna,” whispered Steve, helping her to her feet. “Don’t tell anyone it touched you.”
“What?”
He led her over to Elsie. “Tell her.”
“They said … the Conclave said that it was really bad. The Shadow People are the Dark. You can’t let them touch you.”
The Midnight Gate Page 28