by TJ Green
He looked around the dark interior of the church. “Well, we’d better find the place, hadn’t we? Any thoughts?”
“The crypt,” she suggested, thinking about her conversation with Alex. “It’s the only place it can be—or at least a place accessed from there.”
It was a large church, and they walked down the nave towards the altar, keeping to the aisle on the left, their footsteps echoing around them. They passed the transepts and headed into a small chapel also on the left, out of sight from the visitors.
“Where now?”
Avery pointed to where a narrow, rectangular hole was cut into the floor behind the choir. It was edged with an ornate iron railing to stop people from falling in, and a set of steps led down into darkness.
Looking around cautiously, they made sure no one could see them, and made their way to the entrance.
“Where’s the vicar?” Newton whispered.
Avery shrugged. “In his private rooms?”
Avery went to lead the way down, but Newton stopped her. “Let me.”
With every step down, the temperature plunged lower and lower until Avery was shivering. At the bottom was a solid oak door, black with age, the arcane face of a gargoyle carved on it. It was locked.
Avery stepped past Newton and laid her hand on the lock, whispering a short spell. The lock released, and she pressed down on the iron handle, swinging the door open.Beyond was only darkness. Avery sent a witch light into the room and then they stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.
They stood on the edge of the long, low roofed room, the walls, floor, and ceiling made of heavy stone blocks. Vaulted archways ran the length of the room, and stone sarcophagi were placed along either side the central aisle. Halfway across the room was another iron railing with a locked gate. Beyond were objects of value—silver chalices and candlesticks.
The crypt was damp and musty, as well as bitingly cold.
At the far end of the room, on the rear wall beyond the railings, was a sign illuminated only by the witch light. It was a large sigil with several lines of runes beneath it.
“Well, at least we know where to look,” Newton said. “Isn’t it a bit obvious to mark the place?”
Avery shook her head. “The sigil both warns and offers entry, but only to those who are worthy.”
“What do you mean?”
“It requires one of us, from the old families, to open it.”
Avery walked forward, as if in a trance. With another whispered spell, she opened the locked gate in the middle of the railing and headed to the sigil.
Close up, it exuded power and fear. The mark was complex, but around it, the witch light showed the edges of a door, shimmering with a pale, unearthly light.
“Can you see that?” Avery asked.
Newton nodded. “I can feel it, too. What do the runes say?”
Avery hesitated for a minute as she translated them, glad she’d been researching them recently.
By Air and Fire, Water and Earth, declare your spirit to me.
If I find you worthy, I give entrance to thee.
But if you fail, forever will your soul condemned to misery be.
Are you ready? Declare yourself, and set your powers free.
Avery swallowed. “Well, I think that’s pretty clear, don’t you?” She turned to Newton. “Stand back. I have no idea quite what will happen.”
Newton gave her a long, worried look and then stepped back several paces until he was beyond the railings.
Avery pressed her hands against the sigil.
For a few seconds, nothing happened, but then faint lines like fire began to radiate out from her hands, lighting up every swirling line and mark of the sigil. A tingle spread up Avery’s arms and across her chest, radiating down her whole body, just as it was across the sign.
And then it started to burn.
She cried out, and Newton shouted, “What’s happening?”
But Avery could barely speak she was so wracked with pain. She was aware of Newton starting to move towards her and she summoned her reserves of strength, shouting, “Stay back!”
The burning intensified until it felt as if her veins and her brain were on fire. Her vision started to dim, and blackness encroached on all sides, until only the sigil remained in front of her, filling her vision.
Her hands were now welded to it, and it seemed to be accessing her mind, pulling out all her secrets. Images flashed across her vision—Alex, her mother, her grandmother, the grimoires, and lastly, Caspian Faversham.
She tried to calm her breathing. This was a test, like it had been for Alex and El. She was pure; she was a descendant of Helena. She deserved to be here. It was her destiny.
And as she thought of Helena, Avery felt her burning-hot flesh flash icy cold for a second, and she became aware of a figure next to her. Avery tore her gaze from the sigil and saw Helena standing next to her.
For a few seconds, Helena’s image was translucent, and then it solidified.
Helena was beautiful. Her hair was long and dark, cascading down her back in a thick wave. She was wrapped in a dark cloak, and her face above it was pale. But her eyes shone with fierce desire as she studied Avery.
The smell of violets was strong now, as was the sickening smell of ashes and smoke, and Avery felt herself wretch. She could smell burning flesh, and it was growing stronger by the second, but she held on, willing herself to stay standing and not pass out.
The sigil was now blazing with a fiery light. Avery felt as if her soul was being sucked out of her body. She hung on with every fibre of her being, refusing to give in.
And then it was over. The sigil released her, and she fell to the floor.
With a whisper, the doorway cracked open around the edges and then swung open, and Helena stepped past her into the room without a backward glance.
Within seconds, Newton was at Avery’s side.
“Are you okay?”
For a few seconds she couldn’t speak, but slowly, the burning subsided and her brain started to function again as her vision cleared. She nodded, taking deep, calming breaths. “Yes, I think so.”
Newton’s reassuring hands were on her arms, and he helped pull her to her feet.
“Can you see Helena?” Avery asked.
Newton glanced into the room that had been revealed beyond the sigil. “Yes, but barely. She’s a ghostly apparition.”
Following his gaze, Avery murmured. “Not to me. It’s like she’s truly flesh and blood.”
As if Helena could hear them, she turned and looked at Avery, her eyes burning in her pale face. Her cloak had fallen open, and Avery saw that she wore a long, dark dress with a tight bodice, but then she turned away, dismissing her, and surveyed the room. The feeling of comfort she had given Avery earlier had gone.
Avery felt fear spreading through her. She was about to let this woman into her body.
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Newton hissed.
“Come on. This is no time for doubts,” Avery said, trying to subdue her own as she led the way into the room.
Immediately beyond the hidden doorway, a series of shallow steps dropped down to a lower level. As Avery crossed the threshold, light sprang up everywhere, illuminating the magnificent chamber.
Dozens of large-columned candles filled the corners, ran along the walls, lined the aisles, and decorated the altar, revealing the ceiling of vaulted stone, supported by ornate stone columns that formed two rows on either side of the central space.
In the centre of the floor was a giant pentacle—a pentagram, surrounded by a double circle. It was made from different coloured stones—granite, and a red stone that Avery couldn’t identify. The signs for the five elements were also marked onto the floor, and in the centre of the pentagram was a devil’s trap.
Two large braziers were placed on either side of the altar against the far wall, and they blazed with fire.
Avery could feel the potent magic and power in the room. It reson
ated with it, caressing her body. It seemed to whisper in her ear like a lover, and she could swear she felt lips on her skin.
She shivered, and it wasn’t just from the bone-chilling cold in the room that caused her breath to puff out in white clouds.
Keeping her distance from Helena, who walked with an unearthly grace across the far side of the room, Avery walked around the pentagram to the altar, closely followed by Newton.
“This place is terrifying.” Newton said, his face bleak. “It makes my flesh crawl.”
“Mine, too,” Avery agreed softly, wondering if Helena could hear and understand them.
She turned her attention to the altar, her breath catching as she saw a large jar filled with a swirling black liquid that moved all on its own.
“What’s that?” Newton said, eyeing it suspiciously.
“I have a horrible feeling that’s Octavia.”
“And her demon?”
“Trapped within that, I suspect,” she said, pointing to the huge devil’s trap in the centre of the pentagram.
Hesitantly, Avery touched the other objects on the altar. They were the usual array of a goblet, bowl, ritual knife, and the powdered remains of what Avery presumed were herbs.
She felt the icy prickle return to her skin, and realised Helena was just to her right, a triumphant smile on her face as she stroked the glass jar. She lifted her head and looked at Avery, sending a shiver to the depths of her soul. And then she turned to Newton, narrowed her eyes, and rushed towards him, causing Newton to stagger back in fear.
But Helena was powerless, and she passed through him, causing Newton to clutch at his chest in shock.
Helena turned back to them, her eyes smouldering with resentment. She was trying to speak, but couldn’t, and Avery saw more fury cross her features, transforming her into a witch from the storybooks. And then her anger evaporated, and it was just Helena again.
Avery realised she was holding her breath and she slowly released it, grabbing Newton’s arm for comfort.
Newton straightened and breathed easier again, but his face was white.
Avery placed herself in front of him and squared up to Helena. “Things have changed, Helena. Peter Newton never forgave himself for what happened to you. His descendants have helped us through the years!”
Helena cast a resentful glance at Newton, but nodded.
“Will you help us today? Help us break the spell and return our power to us? All five families will be here, but we need your help. The Favershams remain strong, and we cannot fight them without more magic. They already have the Jackson’s grimoire. Can you remember the spell for water? Reuben Jackson will swap places, and say the spell for air.”
Helena nodded, a malevolent gleam once more springing onto her face. She may not be able to speak, but she understood. She reached out and placed her hand on Avery’s arm, and a charge like an electric shock rocketed through Avery. With searing clarity she knew Helena agreed, and she had transmitted one final instruction, as if it was burnt on her brain.
I will lead.
Avery breathed a sigh of relief. She had felt Helena’s agreement before, but it was good to have it confirmed. She turned to Newton, a stone in the pit of her stomach. “Go and phone the others. Tell them we’re ready.”
20
The rest of the group arrived within half an hour, having slipped into the now closed church and down into the crypt.
They were laden with their grimoires and the herbs required to break the binding.
As they stepped into the chamber, their eyes widened, and Alex whistled. “Wow. This is pretty impressive!” He saw Helena standing by the altar and gasped. “I can see Helena.”
Helena turned and appraised him, a slow smile spreading across her face, and then she looked at Reuben, El, and Briar standing next to him. Her gaze returned to Reuben, her eyes narrowing speculatively, and then they settled on Alex.
Helena desired Alex, Avery could tell; she looked again at Avery, and a knowing smile crossed her face.
Another chill ran through Avery. She had the feeling that once Helena was in her body, she wasn’t going to want to leave it. She subdued the thought. She needed to trust Helena. She was going to save them all.
“Can anyone else see her?” Alex asked.
“A ghost, only barely visible,” El said, echoing Newton earlier.
“Same for me,” Reuben and Briar agreed.
“I can see her far more clearly,” Alex said, looking at Helena warily. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen spirits, but she is far more...” he struggled for words.
“Solid?” Avery suggested.
He nodded, and they both watched Helena pacing up and down, impatient to begin.
“I don’t like this at all,” Briar said, pulling her herbs from her bag. “I don’t trust her.”
“We haven’t got much choice,” Avery said. She turned to Alex. “Any tips for expelling a spirit from my body?”
Alex grabbed her hands. “Stay strong. Remember who you are. Hold tight to cherished memories.” He pulled her close and kissed her, taking her breath away.
“Guys, get a room!” Reuben said, smirking.
“Sod off, Reuben,” Alex said, breaking away and pulling his own grimoire from his pack.
Avery tried to ignore the tingle on her lips. “According to this,” she said, reading the instructions in her own grimoire, “we all stand on our respective points of the pentagram. I need to place the glass jar next to the devil’s trap. Helena has already indicated to me that she’ll lead, so just do what she says. Have you all had a chance to study the spell?”
They nodded, and El clutched the red gemstone necklace that she had been gifted in her wooden box. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Where should I stand?” Newton asked.
“Just out of this room,” Alex suggested. “In the doorway. I suspect that when we start the spell, the demon in that devil’s trap will manifest, and it might even get out. Keep well out of the way.”
“In fact,” Briar said, “maybe you should wait in the church, just in case the vicar comes to call?”
Newton nodded in agreement. “I’ll wait in the small side chapel.”
“I’ve brought something for you, just in case,” Reuben said, reaching into his sports bag for a large object wrapped in a blanket. He unrolled it to reveal a shotgun and a box of shells.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Newton asked, alarmed.
“Don’t worry, we’re licensed. We keep it on the estate. The shells are filled with salt.”
Alex nodded and laughed. “So that’s what you went back for. Good idea.”
“Is it?” Newton asked, taking the gun from him and inspecting it.
“Yes. Salt repels spirits, just in case a certain someone needs a reminder of who’s in charge.” Reuben nodded towards Helena. “Can you use it?”
“I’ve had firearms training,” Newton nodded. “Right then. If you need me, shout.”
While they had been preparing, the power in the room seemed to shift and change, as if the energy was rising.
“I can feel the anticipation, can you?” El asked as she took her place on the pentagram.
“Like a charging battery,” Reuben agreed, squaring his shoulders. He looked more animated than he had in days.
Apart from Briar, they had all dressed in jeans and boots and jackets, ready for combat. El was wearing her black leather trousers and looked like the angel of death with bright white hair flowing down her back.
Briar, however, still wore her long, flowing clothes, and now she slipped her shoes off, standing barefoot on the cold stones. She saw them watching her. “It grounds me,” she explained.
“What do I do about Helena?” Avery asked Alex, once she had moved the glass jar to the right place.
“Stand ready on the Water element sign,” he said, bringing a small potion bottle out of his bag and then walking over to join her. “This potion will drug your senses, but on
ly slightly,” he added, seeing Avery’s alarmed expression. “It will be like when we spirit-walked. There are a few words you need to say, an invocation, to invite her in. Are you sure you want to do this?” Helena was now standing next to Avery, an eager, hungry expression on her face.
Avery summoned her courage. “Yes. We have no choice.”
“We do have a choice. We could tackle the Favershams without extra power.”
“We’d fail and you know it,” she said, casting a wary glance at Helena.
Helena hadn’t tried to communicate since they had first arrived, and the sense of calm that she’d first given Avery had now completely gone. Instead, Avery felt Helena resented her, rather than supported her.
Alex took one final worried look at Helena, and then gave Avery a slip of paper he’d written the spell on. It was only a few lines, and she read through them quickly.
“All good,” she nodded encouragingly, and Alex returned to his place on Spirit, the point of the pentacle closest to the altar and directly to her left.
She took a long look around the room, taking in the hundreds of candles, the bright braziers, now giving off a smoky heat, and the long shadows from the stone pillars supporting the ceiling, and hoped this would not be the last room she ever knew. Finally, she looked at Helena.
They were strikingly similar, other than the colour of their hair and eyes. They were the same height with small, slim builds, and both had pale skin, but Helena’s eyes burned with a fierce desire that Avery wasn’t sure she was equal to. Nevertheless, she drank the potion Alex had prepared.
It scorched her throat, and she coughed as the liquid burnt its way down into her stomach. She tasted cinnamon and blackberries, then something peppery and sharp, and then something acrid.
No. That was Helena she could smell.
The scent of burning flesh was back, and smoke now seemed to swirl around Helena as she stood barely an arm’s length from Avery, fixing her with a piercing stare. Avery’s vision started to swim, and she looked down at the note, quickly saying the words of the spell while she still could.
As soon as they were uttered, she felt her consciousness recede, slipping back into some distant part of her being.
