Leaving Jazz behind, I raced toward the house. But when I got there, no one was in sight. I turned back to Jazz and saw her limping toward me. And behind her, a mob of people moving from the street toward the pond. A very angry-looking mob, carrying burning torches and wooden crosses and things like pitchforks.
I charged across the distance between us, grabbed Jazz’s hand, and ran, pulling her along with me. “There’s a whole bunch of really pissed-off people coming at us,” I shouted. “Can you freeze them?”
Jazz looked miserable and shook her head. “I can’t. Not now.”
I raised my hand like I had seen Jazz do so many times.
“Cease!” I commanded.
Nothing happened.
Obviously, that was a spell I needed to practice. The crowd roared as we ran for our lives.
“By the Goddess!” Jazz seemed to find the strength to run faster, and I didn’t feel like I was dragging her anymore.
Cold air plastered my wet clothes to my skin, and my boots squished as we ran. My sword banged my leg. I didn’t dare let go of Jazz’s hand to pull my weapon out.
Just as we passed the house, I glanced down a small alleyway and saw the freak with the weird blue eyes. “This way!”
I could hear the crowd shouting, coming closer, as I yanked Jazz’s good arm and headed after the freak. He ran down a set of steps that looked like they led into the cellar of the house.
When we reached the steps, the door below was closed and there was no sign of Alderon. I dropped Jazz’s hand and withdrew my sword, holding it at the ready. Slowly, I walked down the stairs. “He went in here.” Clenching my sword in one hand, I grabbed the handle with my other, and started to open the door. Alderon’s words went through my mind. The words he had said when he gave me the golem.
“In the cellar. You will find the door in the cellar, brother. Remember that, or you will be sorry.”
***
Chapter Twenty-Four
I was finally back on the ground in Middle Salem.
In the darkest parts of my mind and soul, I had always known it would come to this.
Even now, four years after they crushed my father, Giles Corey, to death for refusing to stand trial, for trying to expose the human corruption behind the witch-hunts—the citizens of Salem Village were coming to kill me. They would likely overtake us on the threshold of Samuel Parris’s house. How fitting. I would die here, where the whole nightmare began. The prejudice and land-grabbing. Thievery and murder in the name of religion, blamed on witches.
If only we had landed east, back toward the ocean, toward town. We might have had a chance to call out Nire and at least enter the more important battle.
My chest heaved, and my mind spun. My wounded arm was completely useless. It felt dead, like my essence. The Shadows had gone deep, and soon, Bren would realize the truth about what was happening to me.
Dear Goddess. He’d realize the truth about himself.
I ran my fingers through my matted hair, and dismissed an urge to clean myself. Wasted time, wasted magic. Finally, for once, I was fine as I was.
But Bren—when he found out about his true origins, whatever they were—he would have nothing but his own courage to comfort him.
How I hoped I would be there with him when the moment came, because in truth, I did love him. As the prophecies foretold, I had given the Shadowalker my heart.
Shouts of the approaching mob hurt my sensitive ears, but I noticed an odd dulling in the roar. “Open the cellar door,” I urged Bren, who for some reason was hesitating.
“I don’t want to.” There was a darkness in his voice, and I moved my eyes toward him. He gripped the handle, and everywhere his skin met the metal, a cold silvery glow seeped across his flesh.
The mob’s roar grew louder still.
“You have to do it.” I touched his shoulder with my spared hand, but I knew I should limit my physical contact with him. “Whatever we find inside, we’ll face it together.”
Bren’s fingers tightened on the handle. “When Alderon gave me that—that thing, he said the door was in the cellar. And now, Alderon’s here. Do you think he meant Nire’s Sanctuary is here?”
The Shadow-cold in my chest deepened, stabbing against the remnants of my soul. I nodded. “Likely, yes. If that’s what he told you.”
A sigh escaped Bren, but I saw the muscles in his arms bunch. He leaned back, putting his weight into the pull, and the Reverend Samuel Parris’s cellar doors swung open.
No doubt if I had tried to release the doors, Nire’s magical protections would have killed me. The fact that he was able to do it and survive spoke much about Bren’s power—or possibly about his identity. Dark suspicions had joined the Shadows inside me, fighting to get out. Still, I didn’t share those thoughts with Bren. Instead, I used what few powers I had left to make candlelight in my uninjured palm.
We stepped inside, into a darkness so deep and cold that the flame offered us little but a bubble of brightness—only a few inches in any direction.
Bren slammed the doors closed. For a moment, he cast about, looking for something to bar them from the mob, and then he shook his head. I watched as he grew still, reaching within himself for his boundless energy.
Thumps and rattles told me the doors had been barred, inside and out. Bren paused. With a determined scowl, he raised his hands and touched the wood.
Outside, I heard a terrible roar, followed by screaming.
“What did you do?” I murmured, edging close to him in the dank, sour-smelling space.
“I created the illusion of a slither in front of the doors.” He lowered his hand and gave me a quick grin. “Figured it would freak out those superstitious idiots.”
All I could say was, “Well done.” And to myself, thank the Goddess. Perhaps he needs me very little now, after all.
He ran his hand through his damp hair, his wet tunic clinging to his chest. “What should we do now, Jazz?” Bren’s eyes were full of the old innocence, and again, my heart ached. I had to betray him one more time.
If I had known, if I had only known, before it was too late…
For my family and my people, I closed my eyes and summoned my own courage. “I believe you should lead us. You may find that you have—well, an instinct for Nire. For where Nire is hiding. And Alderon appears to have an affinity for you.”
“I don’t want anything to do with that freak,” Bren growled, and I opened my eyes. Silver flashed across his skin, and I flinched.
“Yes. I understand.” My palm warmed as I held the light before us. “I’ve hated him for many years as well, but people are not always what they seem.”
“Whatever.” Fabric rustled as Bren shrugged.
Desperation pooled in my cold stomach. “People, or witches, even Nire—they may not be as black and white as you think. Just as you have often told me. They might have hidden motives. Reasons we don’t understand.”
Bren wasn’t listening.
I raised my voice. “They might have families.”
“There’s Alderon!” Bren cried.
He grabbed my good wrist and jerked me forward, into the darkness, his sword flashing silver as we went. We quickly ran ahead of the range of my light, and I realized Bren could see without it. I couldn’t. But I could hear. My witch’s ears detected Alderon’s heavy footfalls ahead, echoing. We were in a passageway of sorts. Not very wide, not very long, judging by how sound moved.
And other, more horrifying noises rose to my ears. The wails and whimpers of Shadows, and their scrabbling and oozing and clawing. For some reason, these were the only sounds I could hear. My gut tightened as the Shadow-wound twisted. It was blocking out my senses, letting in only the foul darkness of Nire’s evil.
Down we ran, farther and farther below the ground. The dirt walls around us oozed water and black slime. Here and there, a rat scuttled across our path.
Bren kept a firm grip on my good arm, and though I stumbled, I never fell.
Fina
lly, the ground leveled, and I sensed we had reached a series of chambers. The walls seemed dry now. Packed. As if someone had worked to make them more presentable. Somewhere in the distance, a silvery light played against a small opening.
A doorway? A portal?
Bren changed course for it in a flash. He was holding me up now, almost completely, but he didn’t seem to notice my increasing weakness. I was so cold my teeth were chattering—from the molded chill of the air and from the Shadows encircling my innards.
We blundered through several rooms, each more finished than the one before, and at last, we passed into a lighted room. I blinked as the bright glow pierced my glazed sight.
This room had stone walls and a marble floor. It was broad and long—and furnished. Not unlike Shadowbridge.
“Well, well.” Alderon’s voice was thick with sarcasm as he walked into the light. “The Queen of the Witches has arrived, along with her court jester.”
“Shut up,” Bren commanded, easing me down until I was standing on my own power. I swayed.
Alderon chuckled. “Come now, brother. Surely you have no real interest in this maggot. She is nothing to us.”
Light blazed as Bren wielded his sword, squaring off with Alderon.
“Don’t do this,” I croaked, forcing each syllable from my throat. It, too, was beginning to refuse my commands. “Don’t kill him.”
“Why not?” Bren leaned forward and stomped, swinging the blade near Alderon’s chest.
“You don’t know.” Alderon’s smug expression made my good fingers twitch. “Gods be hanged. Amazing. The wench knows—I can tell. But she didn’t let you in on our little secret.”
“What secret?” Bren glared from me to Alderon, his hands gripping his sword even tighter.
I dropped my gaze from his.
“Tell him, Jasmina. Go on.” Alderon laughed again. “This will be worth watching.” My throat was almost completely still. I worked the muscles, battling tears. My words were failing.
“Tell me what?” Bren asked in a deadly quiet tone. “What secret, Jazz?”
“I didn’t know until—when the golem—and then when we got here…” I choked. Talking was too difficult. I raised my good hand, and with trembling fingers, I wrote it in shimmering gold, even though I knew it could be seen by anyone watching.
Don’t kill Alderon without due thought. He is your brother.
For a moment, Bren said nothing.
“You think it impossible,” Alderon said. “But look at me, boy. Look deep in my eyes, and join with me for a moment. You will feel the truth.”
“Joining? Been there, done that,” Bren said through clenched teeth. “I’d rather die. How can you be my brother? You look almost as old as my dad.”
“I am.” Alderon’s smile was unbearable to me. I curled my weak fingers, and wracked my feeble brain for a spell. “Your human father is but ten years older than I am,” Alderon added. “In truth, you and I are half-brothers.”
Before Bren could respond, Alderon lunged toward me.
He must have sensed my impotence.
In seconds, his filthy arms pinned me to the cold marble floor, and his meaty hands closed around my neck. Bren shouted. Alderon lurched, fell away, and was still. Hands lifted me gently from the ground. Bren’s face was suddenly inches from mine, and I struggled to think, to put information together. My consciousness was becoming a stage, and the curtains were opening, then closing. Opening, then closing.
“I didn’t kill him.” Bren gestured with his sword. “I bashed him with the hilt. Come on. We’re going after Nire. Together. This Alderon stuff—we’ll deal with that later.”
I nodded, too numb to protest.
No minions. My chill grew deeper still. Just Alderon. This was wrong. So wrong. Had Nire grown so arrogant as to believe in victory with no fight at all?
Once more, we moved forward, toward the darkened reaches of the large chamber. Once more, Bren had wrapped one arm around my waist, carrying me with no comment or complaint.
He still hadn’t realized. He still didn’t know the whole truth. Should I tell him?
The buzz in my head was unbearable. The Shadows that were eating me alive, turning me into one of their ranks, had reached my thoughts, whispering and chattering.
Other whispers, too. More familiar. From far below where we walked.
The prisoners.
My mother?
Bren was pulsing silver as we walked, keeping the Shadows at a fair distance. I flinched from him, too, but he didn’t notice. With each step we took toward the back of the chamber, the sour smells and air of doom grew heavier. And heavier.
Dungeon, I thought, projecting as best I could toward Bren’s mind.
He barely hesitated at the sound of my voice in his head, accepting it without question. “What about it?” He pulled me faster. Harder.
My mother. I hear her below. There must be a dungeon. Promise me, no matter what, you’ll set her free.
Bren took a deep breath. “Do you think Rol’s here?”
Likely so.
“Okay. I promise.” He forged ahead, then paused. “That was rotten. Wait a minute. First off, you’ll be with me, so you can set her free. Second, I’d set her free because she’s your mom, even if Rol wasn’t there.”
The urge to throw myself into his arms was nearly more than I could fight.
“Listen, before we do this, before this all gets way crazier—you already know, but I’m going to tell you anyway.” Bren stopped walking, and before I realized what he was going to do, he pulled me to him, ever careful of my injured arm. His damp clothing chilled my skin, but then the warmth of his body burned away the cold, if only for a moment.
Bren’s grip tightened on my waist and he pressed his lips to my forehead before drawing back only slightly. “I love you, Jazz. I’m really pissed with you over a few things, but I love you. Just know that.”
The light from his skin made a bright shine around us, and when I looked into Bren’s eyes, I could see truth in those brown depths.
He did love me. He truly did care.
At that moment, in the very mouth of Nire’s lair, I felt safer than I had ever felt. No longer lost. Found. At home in Bren’s arms.
I love you, too, I thought as forcefully as I could.
Bren frowned. “Say it. I want to hear you say it out loud. I need that.”
I can’t. I looked away from him again. The Shadows—my voice. I’m sorry. It’s already gone.
Bren’s embrace loosened. “What do you mean—like gone, forever?”
A tear found my cheek, but I forced myself to nod.
“What else will they take?” His voice was suddenly urgent. “How do I stop them?”
Everything, I thought. And you can’t stop them. But if you stop Nire, I won’t be trapped in the Shadows.
Relief surged through Bren’s muscles. “If I kill Nire, you’ll be okay?”
I groaned inside. How was I supposed to answer that? In a fashion that would take his hope when he needed it most? With an outright lie?
Thinking of the promise of Talamadden, I chose a compromise. In a manner of speaking, yes. I’ll be okay.
Bren’s eyes narrowed. He sensed something. I was sure of it. But his heart blinded him to the truth.
“Fine. Good.” He let me go, then looped his arm under mine, lifting me up and sharing his strength as he marched me toward yet another chamber. “Let’s take care of this and get out of here.”
The chill in the air deepened, and the Shadows creeping through my body began to wriggle and itch. The original site in my arm writhed, and if I could have spoken, I would have screamed. As it was, I pulled back.
My strength was not enough to stop Bren. “What?” he mumbled as we neared the next open doorway.
I have a suspicion. I tried to slow Bren down again, to no avail. Something I think you should know about Nire before you face the Shadowmaster in battle.
“All I want to know is how to kill that
monster.” Bren lumbered forward, jerking me into the darkness, and into an even larger and danker marble room. The floor seemed to glow and slither—with magic, not creatures. This was it. We had entered the heart of Nire’s unnatural stronghold.
And in that chamber was a presence, a foul energy I more than recognized. I had been fighting it, in one form or another, for the last four years.
The light from the floor was dim, and the air fairly crawled with Shadows. They snapped and hissed, closing in on us but falling back when Bren let his silver glow flare. His eyes blazed with purpose. “I think we’re in the right place, Jazz. Just tell me how to finish the job, and I’ll get it done.”
“You were never one for thinking,” said a voice from deep within the Shadows. Woman or man—I could not tell.
“Action, action, action. You need to expand your mind. Consider the impossible. That is one reason I allowed you to travel unsupervised.”
I was too late.
Bren had come to a complete halt. His chin was forward, and his free hand clenched the hilt of his sword.
“Is that Nire?” he asked.
Yes, I thought. And I’m sorry.
“Of course, of course.” Nire’s voice rang in the silence. “Welcome, Brenden.”
My arm was still intertwined with Bren’s, and I felt him freeze as he realized what I had been suspecting.
A strangled cry escaped his throat. He dropped me and fell to his knees. The last thing I heard before I fainted was his agonized cry.
***
Chapter Twenty-Five
A force drove me down. Pain stabbed my legs when my knees slammed into the glowing stone floor, yet I barely felt it. My sword clattered beside me, the sound echoing through the chamber.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t grasp what was happening.
No way.
It wasn’t possible.
Was it?
“Mom?” I whispered.
She stepped into the dim light and smiled, a purple glow surrounding her.
It was my mother, looking about the same as always, but wearing a purple robe instead of a purple dress like she usually wore. I could even smell the sandalwood incense she burned at home, mixing with the rotten-meat and spoiled-milk stink of the Shadows.
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