Seemingly out of nowhere a small hut appeared, and the land drover took a hard right, making its way down a long sandy road. Laura pulled up behind another dune and dismounted, dumping her and Drew’s bags in the sand. She secured her sword to her hip then freed Drew’s from his bag, knowing he’d need it.
She crept up on the hut, remaining low to the ground and moving as quickly as she dared. The sun was hot against her skin and adrenalin had long ago kicked in, thus numbing the pain that wracked her body.
A quick check proved the land drover to be empty, and Laura’s mind whirled with the understanding that they’d already hauled Drew inside, which made things considerably more difficult. She ducked down behind the land drover and snuck along its length, peeking around the taillights. The hut was still; not a single sound could be heard. It was as though it were waiting for something to happen.
Laura took her chance and scurried across the sand, reaching the hut in a mere matter of seconds. She pressed herself flat against the wooden wall, peering across at the one lone window that the hut had. Slowly, she slid to the ground, then crawled towards the windowpane, the sand prickling and burning her knees through her jeans.
She forced her breathing into an even pattern so not to create any noise, then peeped up over the windowsill. Drew was bound and gagged, his form slumped against the wall. The three Wicked stood about, checking watches, sharpening blades, staring at Drew. What was happening? Who were they waiting for? And what did they want with Drew?
Seemingly out of nowhere, a deafening clap of thunder sounded from inside the hut, shaking the walls and roof overhead. Laura dove to the ground, slamming her hands over her ears as she did so, blocking out as much of the rumbling noise as she could.
No… that couldn’t be right. Thunder inside? She released her hands and righted herself, raising her head to again glance into the hut. Against the back wall a swirl of red and black appeared, starting as the size of a golf ball and growing larger right before Laura’s eyes. It moved in a constant circle, dizzying Laura as she stared into it.
A Devils Portal. Laura realised, eyes widening with surprise.
Then a foot appeared amongst the spinning mass of lightening, followed by a white suited leg, a second leg, a torso, two arm’s, and at last, a face. Laura gasped, clapped her hand over her mouth and ducked below the windowsill, biting back a cry as a thousand different memories flashed through her mind in quick concession.
The man who’d assisted in restoring Erebus to his former glory; the man who’d helped James do Erebus’ biding; the man who’d set up the landmines around the manor with the intent to kill; the man who’d murdered Delilah without mercy; the man who’d pursued them for days in the hopes that they’d lead him to Erebus’ soul; the man who’d made it incredibly easy to break her friends out of jail; the man who’d allowed a pretty dangerous map - that should really have been returned to the Corin Minor Courts - remain in her possession; the man who’d, it was starting to seem, killed Drew’s parents and then covered it up.
The man who’d made the residents of the Corin Manor out to be liars so that when Erebus rose up, the Enchanted would go down without a fight.
It was Mr Stark all along.
Part Three :
The Sacrifice
We often don’t realise the sacrifices people make.
For they can come both large and small.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Traitor
Laura’s throat was dry and her breath came in deep rasps, which were only worsened by her attempts to stifle them. Mr Stark was a traitor. A traitor. Laura shoved her knuckles into her mouth and bit down hard, striving to regain control of herself. Drew was still inside, and he was in more trouble than she’d initially realised. She needed to focus.
Mr Stark was talking, and Laura could finally understand what was being said over the ringing in her hears and beating of her heart.
‘She couldn’t have survived such a fall!’ One of the Wicked insisted.
‘What I’m wondering, is why she was pushed over the edge in the first place?’ Mr Stark replied calmly.
‘I didn’t think, I just acted. We got the boy like you asked, no one said anything about the girl.’ Someone else responded, his voice quivering.
‘Ah. I suppose I assumed you’d be smart enough to guess Erebus still had a use for the girl. I didn’t realise I had to be more specific.’
There was a sound of wood slamming against flesh and Laura flinched as she heard Mr Stark’s cane return to the ground.
‘I’m sorry sir,’ came the squeaky voice, ‘it won’t happen again.’
Mr Stark was losing his calm. ‘Won’t happen again?’ He said, voice rising. ‘Of course it won’t, or you know what will happen. If you are correct and the girl is dead or dying then we must act fast. Erebus may still be able to use the body. In fact it may make the change easier.’
Laura sensed Mr Stark was preparing to leave when all of a sudden there was a commotion inside. A number of shouts rang out; clearly a scuffle was taking place. Laura didn’t dare look for fear of being caught.
‘Good of you to join us boy.’ Mr Stark said.
She heard Drew spit in response, presumably straight at Mr Stark.
‘Where’s Laura.’ Drew hissed.
‘Laura is currently… indisposed.’ Mr Stark said lazily.
‘What do you mean indisposed. If you’ve done anything to hurt her I’ll-‘
‘You’ll what?’
‘I’ll kill you.’ Drew growled.
‘That’s rich, considering your current predicament.’
‘I knew you were a jerk,’ Drew growled. ‘I’m glad you’ve proven me correct.’
‘Oh my boy, no need to be so hostile. I’m doing you a favour.’
There was a low, short laugh, ‘what favour? Killing me?’
Mr Stark didn’t answer instantly, so Laura risked peering quickly through the window. Drew was on his knees, the three Wicked restraining him, and Mr Stark stood before them, his back to the window.
Laura had a clear shot, and wondered if she could hit him with her dagger. She considered it, but she knew it’d be too hasty. Firstly, because the Wicked could then kill Drew, and secondly, because she might not actually kill Mr Stark.
For a moment, the flash of a memory appeared in the forefront of her mind; James crawling across the stone floor begging for mercy. Could she use her power? She shuddered at the thought, and debunked the idea immediately. She had no idea how to control the power surging through her veins, she wasn’t sure if she could use it on more than one person at a time, and if she could, there was no way to know if she could hold back from hurting Drew as well.
There was only one way to rescue Drew; fight off his captors. Laura left her spot under the window and flattened herself against the hut wall, gritting her teeth as she resigned herself to the knowledge that she was going to have to kill. Again.
She heard Drew scoff. ‘So you work for him. Of course. What’s he offering as a reward? Eternal glory? Immortality? Power?’
‘All of the above and so very much more.’ Mr Stark replied, and Laura could almost see the grin that was surely on his face.
‘And what the hell do you want with me?’
All fell quiet and Laura began to worry, until finally she heard Drew’s voice.
‘Wait…’
‘Piecing it together my boy?’
‘No…’
‘Indeed.’
And then Drew was screaming, shouting, yelling with such ferocity and anger that it pained Laura to listen to.
‘You did it? You killed them?! Why?’
‘At first, it was just to be the cousin. He’d discovered a little too much about me, my work. He was an intern after all, but it appeared he was growing too suspicious. Of course he passed on those concerns to your parents during his final hours of life. They began to question my position, especially when I deemed the poisoning an unfortunate accident. I couldn’t risk expos
ure, Erebus would never have risen again without my help.’ Mr Stark’s voice was so quiet; so calm in comparison to Drew’s that it was eerie.
‘So you killed them?’ Drew’s voice cracked and Laura felt her knees buckle beneath her.
All of a sudden the prospect of ridding the world of Mr Stark wasn’t so bad.
‘Ah, my boy, my boy, it had to be done.’
‘Go to hell.’ Drew snarled.
There was a sound of flesh hitting flesh and Laura flinched.
‘You can hit me as much as you like, it doesn’t change what you are. A traitor to the Enchanted. And when they find out you will be destroyed.’ There was such venom behind Drew’s words that Laura could feel the sting of them.
She heard Mr Stark strike Drew again; and again; and again. She found herself crouching down in the sand, struggling to force the shaking in her legs to subside as she screamed inwardly at herself. Think Laura, think.
‘Now, stop your rebelling and come along. I have a job for you.’
‘Like hell.’ Drew jeered.
‘Ah, unfortunate. We’ll take you with force if necessary, the choice is up to you.’
There was a low laugh from Drew followed by the clear sound of his fighting back.
Mr Stark continued regardless. ‘You see, Erebus has had me working on a very important project. Something I think even you would find rather amazing. And it appears I may have finally perfected it. I just need one last thing. An Enchanted.’
Laura stood, bracing herself against the hut wall, for she knew then exactly what Erebus’ need for Drew was. He was going to force Drew to swear allegiance to the Wicked, and if Mr Stark was right, and he had perfected the change, then while Drew could still survive, he would live forever as a Wicked.
~
Gemma felt as if she were going to be sick. How hadn’t anyone noticed so many missing Enchanted? How hadn’t they pieced together the truth when some of those Enchanted were turning up dead and others were never to be heard from again? How could they not believe them; war was coming.
She couldn’t understand nor could she accept the mistake the Enchanted were making. The Force should have been investigating the disappearances, should have been on top of the situation from the get go. Those Enchanted should not be there, having to suffer such horrific fates.
How many other Enchanted were hidden within the tunnels, waiting to be converted or tortured? How many had already been forced to turn?
The hall was dark, damp and cold; silent besides the echoing voices from the chamber they ran from. The group were treading quietly, though they were all on edge, their urgent desire to leave the tunnels spurring them onwards. A mixture of fear and adrenalin throbbed inside each of them, and it was that combination that almost led them to their death.
They were speeding up, doorways built into the tunnel walls flashing past, when Robin came to a skidding halt. Gemma slammed straight into him and they both toppled over. She winced at the sharp pain that shot through her stomach, however attempted to ignored it as Logan appeared, helping her and Robin to their feet.
‘What’s wrong with you?!’ Mitch hissed sliding back to their side, Grace on his heels.
Robin’s right index finger shot to his lips and they all froze. Footsteps. Voices. A light far in the distance. It was approaching fast.
Mitch dove past them, thrusting open the closest door. ‘Quick!’
Gemma gave Logan and Grace a shove ahead of her, Robin already having darted inside, and they found themselves in another lab. Gemma realised how lucky they’d been, for if someone had occupied the room, they’d be dead.
Computers sat in a row to their right, beeping constantly as numbers and letters flashed across the stark white screen in a continuous loop. Along the left wall stood two stainless steel benches, empty of all but a folded white sheet on both. And straight down the middle of the room were standing shelves containing beakers, glasses and bottles filled to the brim with all kinds of coloured liquids.
The voices from the hall became more distinct, the feet approaching quickly. They were clearly in a hurry.
‘Hide.’ Gemma whispered.
The group took to the isle, following it down to the back of the lab where they discovered a storage cupboard, more shelves and a maze of desks and workbenches.
Grace and Logan curled up under two of the desks, Robin found a nook behind a shelf that came away from the wall, and Mitch was able to pull aside some of the benches, creating a small posy he could hide within. Gemma opted for the storage room, testing the shelves to find them both firm and wide. She climbed to the top shelf and pressed herself flat against the wall, moving some of the bottles and papers around her body to conceal her from view should anyone glance up.
They were lucky to have hidden, for moments later the door to the lab opened and the sound of at least two people entering became apparent.
‘Yes, he’ll be bringing them back within the hour. The boy is meant to be the perfect candidate for the change and Erebus has plans for the girl.’ The deep voice of a male said.
‘Well everything’s ready for their arrival. Of course, we were prepared for the victor of the current fight to go through the change next.’ Replied a woman with a clear Eastern accent.
‘Today’s round is quite an entertainment for the soldiers, allowing it to drag out a little longer won’t hurt.’
The conversation made Gemma sick all over again.
Tools clinked, feet scuffed, keyboards were tapped.
‘The Sargent gave you the formula?’ Came the male’s voice again.
‘Yes, I’ve been making batches for testing all afternoon. I’ve just got to bring them up from the cooling room.’ Responded the woman.
‘Excellent, I’ll give you a hand.’
Then Gemma heard the door open and close.
Mitch emerged soon after to give them the all clear and the group congregated around the desks.
‘So this is where they do it?’ Grace whispered.
A shiver ran up Gemma’s spine and she glanced around the lab, seeing it in a new light; recognising it for the torture den it really was. As she cast her eyes over the desks, she noticed something propped up in the corner of a nearby shelf. Bottles crowded around it, concealing most of it from view, but the light caught the object at the right angle, peeking her interest. She stepped towards the shelf and pushed the plastic bottles aside, her heart racing. Could it be?
There sat an old wooden box, dented and scratched but still the same.
‘Guys…’ She whispered.
‘What is it?’ Grace asked.
Gemma’s fingers wrapped around the box, pulling it free, and, holding it firmly within her grasp, she turned to face her friends.
‘I think it’s Caspian’s soul.’
~
Laura’s mind was working fast, and as she laid eyes on the land drover, gradually a plan began to form. A plan that involved what was quickly becoming her favourite escape-trouble card. Blowing things up.
Laura ducked down low to the ground and crossed the sand to the land drover. She scuttled underneath and crawled to the driver’s side, emerging quickly and resting her hand over the doorhandle. A bout of shouting arose from the hut and she clicked the door open under the cover of the noise. She leaned over the driver’s seat and took the handbrake off, shifting the gear stick into neutral as she went. Then, she gripped the doorhandle and the steering wheel with each hand and began to push. Pain shot up her arm at the strain she was placing on her injury, but she didn’t stop.
The car began to roll slowly through the sand and away from the hut. She was well out of breath and sweating profusely, dirt and sand streaking her bare arms, by the time she decided the land drover was at a safe distance away.
She raced to the driver’s door, tugged the leaver to open the fuel tank, and then darted around to unscrew the cap. She tore free her flannel shirt from where it was tied around her waist and secured it to the end of her sword, dipping it dow
n into the fuel. Then, she began to drag her fuel-soaked-shirt through the sand.
She hid behind the hut, pulled the lighter she’d retrieved from the glovebox of the land drover from her pocket and tossed her shirt to the side. Then, she set the trail of fuel alight. It caught with a severe whoosh and took off through the sand.
Laura dove to the ground and threw her arms over her head as the land drover blew behind her. She felt the heat of the blast hit her first, followed closely by the shockwave, which lifted her from the ground, throwing her a good metre from the hut. Her ears rung and she laid panting and gasping in the sand, the wind having being knocked from her. Her arm throbbed and blood dribbled from her wound but she ignored it as she scrambled for her sword.
She stumbled to her feet and took off for the door to the hut, reaching it just as two Wicked dashed through. She didn’t allow herself to hesitate for even a second; her sword slid easily through the first Wicked’s neck, and he dropped to the ground dead. She was robbed of the chance to regret her actions for the second Wicked was already upon her. Laura spun just as the Wicked’s blade swiped through the air at her and before he had the chance to recover, she slammed her own sword straight through the Wicked’s chest.
She pulled back quickly, unable to watch as he slumped to the ground, as dead as his companion. She staggered back a step, turned to the doorway of the hut and charged through. The third Wicked held a knife to Drew’s throat and Mr Stark was grinning widely at her.
‘Ah. Laura. Not dead after all.’
He slammed his cane hard against the floor and a portal appeared behind him. Mr Stark grasped a hold of Drew’s arm and took a single step backwards into the swirling form of lightening. Laura brought her blade down through the rope binding Drew’s wrists and tossed him his sword just as the portal began to slowly close around them. Drew caught it with one hand and drove the blade through Mr Stark’s shoulder. Mr Stark cried out, loosening his grip on Drew, allowing him to stumble free. Then, the portal closed, taking Mr Stark with it, leaving only a few splatters of his blood behind.
Laura caught Drew’s eye and was about to throw herself into his arms with relief, when she felt something pierce her side. A blinding, burning pain shot through her stomach, working its way through her entire body, and she gasped desperately for air as she glanced to her left. There stood the third Wicked, bloody knife in hand.
The Sacrifice (Wicked Book 2) Page 24