Shit. Please say Isabel and Asher are okay.
I grabbed a knife, hoping that I could still use my Hemlock magic with Evelyn absent. Keir grabbed his own knife, but his vampire powers wouldn't function against the reanimated dead. It was all on me.
Unlike the first witch we’d encountered, these ones were more obviously dead. Their clothes were torn, their skin streaked with blood and marked with symbols—crudely drawn, as though the person who’d created them had been in a rush. Now they formed a monstrous army even a necromancer would have trouble putting down.
As the group moved closer to the alley’s entrance, I hurled an explosive spell, pushing some Hemlock magic into it. The blast knocked the zombies into one another, and several fell over. Keir was there a second later, stabbing at one of the fallen zombies, but the dead man rolled over with surprising speed, aiming a vicious uppercut. Keir deflected the blow with his forearm, his eyes widening. “He’s too fast. They’re under another spell.”
“Crap.” I called my Hemlock power, whipping at the oncoming dead. Limbs fell, severed, and screams rose as the shoppers in the market scattered, fleeing the dead and the glowing power pouring from my hands.
Even as I cut them down, the army of the dead still moved too fast. They weren’t just marked with control symbols—their creator had given them super-speed, too. Not only were they as impervious to pain as any undead, no vampire could drain them either. The perfect weapons.
Not enough to outdo my magic, though.
A whipcord appeared in my hands once again, yanking an undead man off his feet. Keir kicked him down as he tried to rise, and a scream ripped through the spirit realm. Not a ghostly howl, but a psychic’s shout.
Mackie?
19
Another undead lunged at me, but Lloyd got there first. He kicked the undead in the knees, causing it to pitch forwards, then swept its legs out from underneath it.
“Need help, Jas?” Lloyd said. Morgan came running up, with Mackie behind them.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked in disbelief. “I thought you were at the guild.”
“Saving your neck,” Mackie said. “I screamed, and it stopped the shifter ghosts from spawning for a bit. Finally found something they’re not immune to.”
“Damn, good thinking.” I backed away from the zombies, towards the cobbled alley between shops. “Asher and Isabel are holed up in his place. The dead are hunting them—”
“She’s not there,” Keir said. “Or him. The shop’s empty.”
My stomach dropped. “I should have come straight here.”
I ducked into the alleyway, finding Asher’s shop door open, blood splattering the entryway. Isabel. No.
An undead lurked in the doorway. This one was barely marked, the only clue about his undead nature indicated by the lack of a soul when I tapped into the spirit realm. Keir struck first, throwing the dead man over his shoulder into the wall, exposing the marks on his neck and collarbone.
I clenched my hands. “Hold that bastard still. I’m gonna try to find his master.”
Keir hauled the undead to his feet, pinning the dead man’s arms behind his back. “Really hope you know what you’re doing, Jas.”
Yeah, me too.
The control symbol was visible on the dead man’s collarbone, and I pressed my hand to the mark, feeling for the magic inside it. White-hot power surged against me, my hand burned with pain, and I recoiled. “Ow. Hang on.”
I tapped into my Hemlock magic, holding my hand inches from the mark without touching it this time. Power lapped against my palm, sharp and hostile. Think, Jas. I'd tracked a zombie once before, to find Keir, but that had been a regular undead without any sinister witch marks.
All right. Drawing in a breath, I tapped into the spirit realm. While this zombie might not have blue threads connecting to its summoner, it wasn't possible to raise one of the dead without leaving a trace.
Rather than Hemlock magic, I called necromantic power to my fingertips and pushed it towards the dead man, demanding that he rise and obey me.
Magic whipped at me in retaliation and I quickly drew on my Hemlock power, forming a shield between me and him. Keir struggled, holding the dead man still as his body vibrated with the power humming inside the glowing mark on his collarbone.
My teeth clenched, rattling with the clash of magic against magic.
“Take me to your master!” I yelled, throwing everything I had at that twisted mark—necromancy and witchcraft both. The dead man writhed, Keir tightening his grip.
Then the mark began to bleed, thin rivulets streaming down the dead man’s chest. Keir released him, and the body decayed before my eyes—bones protruding, skin sagging. A foul smell emanated from the corpse, and I coughed.
Keir stared down at the rotting body. “Jas, what did you do?”
“I think I broke the witch mark. He’s just a vessel now.”
Which meant I could control him.
I shoved necromantic power at the corpse, and said, “Take me to the one who raised you.”
The undead jerked upright, staggering to his feet. I held my breath at the foul smell, following the zombie uphill, out of the alley.
Lloyd and the others all stared when Keir and I emerged from the alley behind the zombie.
“This guy will take us to the enemy,” I said. “You guys… how are you even here? I thought you were with the guild.”
“We’ve been chasing those shifter ghosts,” Morgan said.
“Then we heard about the zombies,” Lloyd added. “I thought you or Isabel might be at the market.”
“She’s—gone. They took her.” My throat closed up. I didn't want to lead the others into danger either. Even on the slim chance that we escaped alive, the others might be arrested for helping me when the mages caught up to us.
The zombie fell sideways, his rotting legs barely supporting him. I yanked him upright again and followed close behind, with Keir at my side.
“I'll be pissed if he just leads us back to the mage guild,” I said. “Wanda’s not there, that’s for sure.”
“The mage guild?” asked Lloyd. “We heard the meeting broke up and someone went missing…”
“The leading Mage Lord is a traitor,” I said. “I attacked his son with Hemlock magic, so I'm as good as dead.”
His mouth dropped open. “What? You can't be serious.”
“I am. It was self-defence, but the mages won't see it that way. Plus, you know, the man in charge is the enemy.”
“I fucking knew it,” Mackie said. “I knew they were all bastards. They’d never help us.”
I didn’t have the words to reassure her, not when she was dead right. “Lady Montgomery won’t stand for their bullshit, but even she can’t get me off the hook for an attempted murder charge—” I cut off, realising we’d reached the street where Keir and I had come looking for the Briar Coven. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“There’s someone living in there,” Keir said, jerking his head at one of the houses. “The others are empty.”
I ran to the house he’d pointed out and slammed my foot into the door, which bounced off. No surprises—it was warded. Was Wanda behind that barrier? Maybe. We weren’t on a spirit line, though—not even close. I pressed my hands to the wall, but my magic didn’t respond aside from a faint tremor.
“Hang on,” I said. “It must be warded on the inside.”
When Isabel and I had been faced with this dilemma before, we’d had to climb in through the window. I doubted I’d be so lucky this time around. Why hadn’t I made duplicates of those wall-climbing spells?
Morgan rapped on the door. “Hey, is anyone home?”
“I wouldn’t,” I warned. “The place is warded on the inside. Let me check the window.”
Lloyd was already there. His hands traced the windowsill, and he jumped back. “Ow. Static shock.”
I moved to his side and pressed my hands to the glass. My palms tingled with unfamiliar magic, and gl
yphs swirled behind the darkened glass. I activated one of the spells on my wrist—a destructive spell combined with an unlocking one—and glass shattered, but the wards held. A shimmering barrier met my eyes, covering the whole house, including the broken window.
“Don’t touch that!” Keir said, his eyes widening with alarm. “That’s not witch magic. It’s necromancy.”
Sure enough, when I tapped into the spirit realm, the wall of light was there, too. “A spirit barrier?”
“No.” He put his hand on my arm, and I felt a tremor under his skin. “I know vampires who use this sort of barrier to protect their vessels. Only the dead can pass, not the living. It’s set up via a blood sacrifice.”
My throat went dry. “Oh no, we’re not sacrificing anyone.”
“I'm not keen on being sacrificed, for the record,” said Lloyd.
“Not us,” Keir said. “Nobody who’s alive can walk past the barrier at all. Only the dead, and I think he’s seen better days.” He indicated the dead man, whose legs had fallen to pieces. Bugger.
“Does a vampire count as alive?” asked Mackie.
“Yes,” said Keir. “I don’t know about shades, but they must have guessed you'd come here.”
“Maybe a shade would confuse it,” I said. “Could you use a vessel to get in?”
“I think so,” he said. “But there are living behind that barrier as well as the dead, and they won’t be able to get out as long as the barrier is there.”
“Living people?” Crap. The wall of shimmering light in the spirit realm had thrown me, but when I checked again, I did see moving lights behind there. Isabel? Wanda?
“Allow me to help you, Jacinda,” said a voice, and sharp claws pierced me through the spine.
The pain lasted barely a second before I left my body, floating free into the grey. The others’ faces disappeared as the realm of death rose to consume me.
Grey light smothered the world, muting all sound, preventing me from hearing my body hit the ground.
The shifter vanished, leaving me alone in the void.
Ah, crap. I’m dead again?
Slowly, the shimmering barrier came back into focus. This time, there was no resistance. I floated over the barrier and through the wall of light.
The light brightened, dazzling my eyes. Then a room came into focus, below the greyness of the spirit realm, and I gasped.
Dead bodies lay on the bare floorboards, lined up in rows. As I watched, one of them sat jerkily up, crude symbols glowing on his collarbone. He rose to his feet, taking what looked like a permanent marker in his hands, and shuffled over to one of the other bodies. Crouching down, he pressed the marker to the dead man’s throat.
If I’d been in my body, I’d have thrown up. Other reanimated corpses moved throughout the room, drawing symbols onto each dead person until they rose, too. The stench of dark magic was overwhelming even on this side of the veil. I floated, unable to look away from the ghastly scene. None of the dead saw me, but then again, they had no spirits to speak of. Someone had set them up to move on autopilot.
As I watched, the undead moved out of the room and into a hallway. I glimpsed a line of them queuing by the house’s back door. So that’s where the army was coming from.
I have to slow them down. It wasn't like I could actually touch anything, though. I was dead, and when my body revived, I’d probably be yanked onto the other side of the barrier again.
I called on my Hemlock magic, my hands glowing with faint green light.
“That won't do any good,” whispered a voice. It was quiet, raspy, and didn’t come from any of the dead. I couldn’t tell where it came from. Not the spirit realm, either.
“Who are you?” I asked of the room. “Dead, alive, related to me? Give me a clue here.”
“I am the Whisper,” said the voice, which sounded cold, and vaguely feminine. “I walk free, and I hear the call of my brethren.”
My non-existent blood iced over. “You're an Ancient.”
“They once called us gods, and we remember even now.”
“Good for you,” I said, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. “Any reason you're collecting dead bodies? Or why you're using witch magic instead of your own?”
“Our magic was stolen from us,” rasped the Whisper’s voice, which seemed to echo from all the corners of the room. “And you will pay for what you did, Hemlock. We remember.”
“Funny story there,” I said. “You see, I don’t remember. Whatever my ancestors did, I wasn't even alive then. I’m not really alive now.”
My hands glowed brighter. Screw this. I’d unleash everything I had and blow the doors off this place, bringing down the Ancient’s twisted army before they could overrun the city.
“If you use that magic, they die,” rasped the voice.
Two heads rose as though their names had been called—Isabel and Asher.
No.
The faint glowing from their bodies told me they were alive, but their hands moved jerkily, wielding the same tools the others did.
The enemy had forced both of them to use dark magic against their will.
“You sick fuck,” I snarled. “Show yourself, if you have a body or spirit to show.”
“They took my body and mind,” the Whisper said. “They destroyed my soul, but part of me broke free. I will not be forgotten.”
“You can’t have no body or spirit,” I said to the disembodied voice. Right? The Whisper must have something anchoring her here. She couldn't be a voice without a spirit.
The spirit world began to distort. My body must be reviving, which meant I wouldn't be able to stay in here. But Isabel and Asher—
“Isabel, I’m coming!” I shouted to her. “I’ll help you get out of here.”
“You will never save her, Jacinda,” said the Whisper. “Your friend told me all about you… it seems I have you to think for my revival. You awakened the spirit line.”
My heart dived. When I'd banished the Soul Collector, she must have escaped. Like him, she was able to influence people without having a body of her own. And like him, I was immune to her power, but my friends weren’t.
The spirit realm flickered. The last thing I saw was a great shimmering mirror at the back of the room of corpses, gleaming with silvery light. Then I blinked back into my body, lying on my back on the pavement. “Dammit!”
“Jas?” Keir leaned over me. “Jas—did you get inside?”
I pushed up onto my elbows. “I did. The enemy has Isabel and Asher. They’re being forced to raise those zombies with blood magic. But I didn’t see Wanda, nor anyone else.”
Lloyd swore. “They’re forcing Isabel… that’s fucked up. Who’s doing that to them?”
“Another Ancient, called the Whisper.” I rested a shaking hand against the wall, staggering to my feet. “She claims she has no body. Or a spirit. But she has them under her control and I don’t know how to undo it.”
“No body or spirit?” Keir said. “That’s not possible.”
“This is the Ancients we’re talking about,” I said. “She's not possessing people like the Soul Collector or a psychic, but she has some kind of hold over them. Not the stones—I didn’t see any of them in that room.” A sick taste filled my mouth. Isabel didn’t deserve to be the puppet of a maniac I’d set free. And I hadn’t seen Wanda at all.
“Are you sure you didn’t see anything else in there?” asked Lloyd.
“Before I came back, I saw some kind of giant mirror,” I recalled. “Otherwise, a load of bodies and that’s it.”
Mackie cleared her throat. “I screamed and scared that shifter off, but I bet he’s still around if you wanna make him talk.”
“He killed me on purpose,” I said. “To get me over the barrier. But he wouldn’t have known I could come back, right?”
Or would he? It wasn’t like I could hide my shade nature in the spirit realm.
“We can summon him,” Keir said. “But he’s likely to attack us again. If he did know yo
u’d survive, Jas, then maybe he’s trying to fight the enemy’s control.”
“Maybe,” I acknowledged. “He tried to warn me off before, when he told me the Moonbeam was in pieces. But I don’t think… I don’t know if he can help us. We know where the enemy is, we just can’t reach them.”
“We don’t know where the Moonbeam is,” Keir added. “Maybe with Wanda…”
“Why’d they take Wanda?” asked Lloyd.
“To get hold of Vance, I think,” I said. “He’s part shifter—and on the mage council. He and Ivy anticipated their plan, but they’re counting on him being desperate enough to take the risk. Imagine what the mages will do if one of the founders of the Council of Twelve attacks them.”
“Damn,” said Lloyd. “Their whole council will fall to pieces, right?”
“If it hasn’t already.” I swallowed. “The Moonbeam, or what’s left of it… maybe if I had a piece of it, I’d be able to track it.”
Assuming my magic didn’t blow it sky-high.
“What, this thing?” said Morgan, pulling a piece of stone from his pocket.
20
“Where’d you get that?”
Morgan shrugged and passed me the stone. It was cool to touch, humming with power beneath the surface. Maybe not unbreakable, if it was a splinter of a larger stone, but impervious to my magic. Hemlock power brushed against it, and the stone hissed, steam rising from the surface.
“We found it in the street,” explained Mackie. “Near those zombies.”
“Speaking of zombies,” Keir said, “I'll grab a vessel and see if I can get it past that barrier, but I can’t guarantee those zombies won’t swarm me if I go in there.”
“Shifter incoming!” Lloyd warned.
The air shimmered, and a ghostly figure appeared, hands sheathed in claws.
Crap. Had the stone drawn him here?
I gripped the stone, brandishing it. “Hey,” I said. “Stop.”
The stone glowed bright… and the shifter halted, his gaze on the stone. His expression was glazed, his transparent form still.
Witch's Spirit (The Hemlock Chronicles Book 3) Page 19