The Secret City

by C. J. Daugherty

  Behind them, the creature, apparently registering what had happened, gave a roar of frustration. Taylor didn’t dare look back as it crashed after them, its footsteps so heavy the walls shook.

  ‘It’s fast,’ Sacha gasped, his voice hoarse.

  Taylor didn’t reply. She yanked the door open and they tumbled out of the room into the hall.

  Slamming the door behind them, she spun around, seeking something to block it with.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Sacha rasped. ‘It’ll just…’

  At that moment, the creature pulled the door off its hinges and threw it to one side with a shriek of rage.

  ‘… do what it wants,’ Sacha finished.

  Taylor stared at the thing with horror.

  It turned towards them, a kind of insane hatred darkening its distorted features.

  ‘What do we do?’ she asked.

  ‘We run.’ Sacha grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the stairwell.

  They skidded into the staircase in perfect sync, thudding down to the ground floor. They were across the dimly lit lobby and out into the quad in seconds.

  There, they paused, unsure of what to do next.

  ‘We should get help.’ Taylor reached for her phone. ‘It could hurt someone.’

  ‘Do it quickly,’ Sacha said, poised to run.

  It seemed to take forever for the call to go through. She waited, staring at the door of the Newton Dorm with fixed intensity. Finally, somewhere a phone rang.

  Once. Twice. Three times.

  ‘Taylor?’ Louisa’s voice on the line. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Lou…’ Taylor shouted, then the dormitory door flew open with a splintering crash, and the creature squeezed through it with a yowl of complaint.

  She never had time to say another word.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Sacha grabbed her hand, pulling her so hard she nearly dropped the phone.

  They hurtled across the quad; the velvet grass cool beneath their feet.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Taylor shouted.

  ‘I have no idea.’ Sacha glanced over his shoulder, searching for the thing in the dark. ‘Not the library. I don’t want to be trapped in another library with this thing.’

  Taylor didn’t dare look back but she could hear the heavy footsteps behind them.

  Ahead, the solid, ancient door to the dining hall loomed into view. The dining hall was never locked. The night porters used it as a break room, of sorts.

  She pointed. ‘In there.’

  Sacha didn’t argue.

  They slammed through the doors, sliding the heavy brass lock into place behind them.

  When it was done, they stepped back, watching it warily.

  Seconds later something smashed into it from the other side. The doors shook from the blow, but held.

  Sacha eyed the strong hinges warily.

  ‘It’ll get through,’ he warned. ‘They don’t give up. We need to be ready.’

  The thing crashed against the doors again. Plaster dust showered down from the ceiling. Across the room, the medieval stained-glass windows shivered.

  Taylor heard a muffled frustrated roar through the thick wood of the door.

  ‘I’ll get a weapon,’ Sacha announced, running towards the kitchen.

  ‘Get one for me.’ Standing behind a heavy, wooden chair that must have survived centuries in this glorious room, Taylor pulled the phone from her pocket and pressed the call button.

  The creature crashed against the door again. The awful thud was followed by a horrible prolonged barrage of violence as its enormous fists bashed against the wood.

  The portraits on the wall shivered. In the cupboard the crystal glasses vibrated, sending out an alarmed, unearthly chime.

  ‘Where are you?’ Louisa shouted. She was already running.

  ‘The creatures from the tunnel,’ Taylor said quickly. ‘They’re here.’

  ‘I know. Are you in the dorm? That’s where I’m headed.’

  ‘We’re not at the dorm anymore. We’re in the dining hall. It’s outside.’ The thing crashed against the door again, and she added, ‘But it’s going to get in.’

  ‘The dining hall?’

  Taylor heard Louisa’s footsteps stop.

  ‘Alastair!’ she shouted. ‘They’re in the dining hall. It’s got Taylor and Sacha.’

  In the distance, Taylor heard Alastair swear.

  Louisa’s footsteps began again, faster than before.

  ‘On our way,’ she said.

  The line went dead.

  The thing had begun pounding on the door relentlessly. Harder and harder. The building shook from the sheer force of it. The noise was maddening. It sounded like the creature would knock the whole building down.

  Sacha appeared at her side. His eyes gleamed in the darkened room. In one hand, he held a carving knife. In his other, a long, slim knife with a deadly looking blade.

  Flipping it over with surprising expertise, he held the latter out to her, handle first.

  ‘Take it,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’

  The carved handle looked like ivory, but was probably bone. It was cool to touch. The blade was deadly.

  She set it down on the table beside her.

  ‘Louisa’s coming. We won’t need these.’

  The door shuddered under the monster’s onslaught. The old lock began to bend.

  ‘I hope she’s fast.’ Sacha didn’t let go of his knife.

  The thing pounded again. The assault was so loud, so vicious, Taylor could feel it in her chest. In her brain.

  Bangbangbangbangbangbang.

  Suddenly, the door splintered.

  ‘It’s getting in,’ Sacha called above the cacophony. ‘Get ready.’

  Keeping her eyes fixed on the door, Taylor put her hand on the knife. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

  Louisa was all the way over by the dorm. She’d never make it here in time.

  How was she supposed to save Sacha – or herself – without her alchemical abilities?

  Without them she was nothing.

  Then something occurred to her. Something Alastair had said earlier that day. She looked down at the knife, her brow knitted, then back at the door.

  A plan began to come together.

  As the door sagged further, she reached for Sacha’s hand. He looked up at her with surprise, his fingers tightening around hers instinctively.

  ‘Help me,’ she said. ‘I want to try something.’

  ‘Your energy makes it stronger,’ he reminded her. ‘You can’t fight it that way.’

  ‘I know. But I have an idea.’

  Before he could reply, the thing threw itself at the door with unbelievable force. The door shivered and, with a screech of tearing metal, the lock began to give.

  Taylor took a deep breath. Holding up her hand, she drew energy from all around, molecules of water, air, light and electricity. Attracted by the ancient connection between her and Sacha, it all flowed to her, rushing through her veins like alcohol.

  All the fear left her.

  She wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Staring at the door, she channelled molecules of golden energy towards it.

  Open.

  The bent lock straightened and slid back with a groan.

  The thick double doors flew open.

  The creature stood in the doorway, hatred burning in its eyes.

  Snarling, it lunged towards them.

  Next to her, Sacha flinched. Taylor gripped his fingers tightly with her good hand. The other, she raised, bandaged palm facing up.

  Knife.

  The slim, silver knife rose up from where it lay on the table next to her. For a split second it hovered in mid-air, glinting.

  Taylor turned her hand, pointing at the creature lumbering towards them.

  There.

  The blade flew across the room like a bullet, sliding into its huge chest without a sound.

  The creature stopped, looking down at the knife with an almost human grunt of s
urprise. Its deformed brow creased.

  When it looked up at Taylor, she thought she saw pain in its eyes.

  Unexpectedly, sadness washed over her. Whatever it was now, it hadn’t started out like this. It didn’t choose this existence.

  Still. She had no choice. She had to finish this to stay alive.

  Eyes still on the stunned creature, she raised her palm once more.

  Knife.

  The carving knife slipped from Sacha’s fingers. He gave a gasp of surprise.

  The blade hovered in front of them, shining silver and razor sharp.

  Again, Taylor pointed at her target.

  There.

  The creature didn’t try to run. The second knife plunged in beside the first.

  Black blood fountained from the wound in its chest. The thing fell heavily to its knees.

  Looking at Taylor with tormented eyes, the creature held up its thick arms. It seemed to want to tell her something but it couldn’t speak. Instead, it made an inarticulate noise that sounded like a plea.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Taylor whispered.

  The creature’s eyes glazed. Slowly, inexorably, it tumbled forward, hitting the polished oak floor with a crash that caused the chairs to jump.

  It didn’t move again.

  Eighteen

  The sun had turned the sky brilliant gold by the time Taylor and Sacha headed to the administration building the next morning. Each carried a small bag.

  Taylor’s feet felt light and odd, each step a moon-walk into the unknown. Neither of them had slept. They’d spent the night with the others, planning.

  They couldn’t stay in Oxford, that much was certain. Their presence put everyone in danger. Mortimer would never give up. Last night he’d sent one of his zombies to kill them. Tomorrow? Maybe he’d send twenty. Or a hundred.

  Louisa and Alastair had arrived at the dining room seconds after the creature died. Skidding in the room, fists raised, faces flushed from running, they’d stared in astonishment at Taylor, who knelt next to the prone body.

  Alastair spoke first. ‘How the hell did you do that?’

  ‘Knives.’ Swiping a tear from her cheek, Taylor stood. ‘You told me Sacha killed one last night by stabbing it in the chest. So I tried the same thing. It worked.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘I think it really was human once.’

  ‘Worse.’ Louisa crouched down low, pointing to faded tattoos on the thing’s arms. ‘It was one of us.’

  She held her arm next to it, so Taylor and Sacha could see they wore matching tattoos. Her well-toned bicep looked tiny next to the creature’s thick flesh.

  ‘We think Mortimer must have harvested the bodies of dead alchemists,’ Louisa explained. ‘God knows from where – the morgue. Cemeteries. Hospitals. He could have been doing it for years.’ Her voice was bitter. ‘He needed time. So they could grow.’

  Her phone buzzed with angry insistence. She yanked it from her pocket. ‘What’s happening?’ She listened for a moment. ‘Good. It’s dead. They stabbed it in the chest. I know.’ Her gaze flickered at Taylor and Sacha. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’

  She put her phone away.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sacha asked.

  ‘The others are searching the grounds in case more of these things are sneaking around, but it looks like this might be the only one.’ She gestured at the huge corpse. ‘There’s no sign of another.’

  ‘Is it over then?’ Taylor asked hopefully.

  ‘For tonight, maybe.’ Louisa turned towards the door. ‘Jones wants everyone in his office. Alastair and I need to help wrap up the search. Will you two be OK?’

  Sacha looked at Taylor.

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ he promised her.

  Once Louisa was gone, Taylor looked down at the huge body.

  ‘What should we do about it?’

  ‘They’ll take care of it.’ Sacha headed for the open doorway, stepping carefully over the rubble. ‘Let’s get out of here. We need to talk.’

  His face was as serious as she’d ever seen it.

  They’d stood out in the quiet quad talking for a while. It only took them a few minutes to decide to leave. By the time they reached the dean’s office, their minds had been made up.

  Jones hadn’t been wild about the idea.

  ‘We mustn’t be hasty,’ he cautioned, when they’d explained their decision. ‘We need to formulate a plan. You have to be patient.’

  ‘We can’t be patient,’ Taylor said. ‘Sacha’s birthday is four days away. It’s time to go.’

  ‘Do you truly believe you’ll be safer out in the open than you are here?’ Jones reasoned. ‘Tonight when you were attacked, a dozen people ran to save you. Who will help you in France?’

  ‘In the end, though,’ Taylor reminded him, ‘we saved ourselves.’

  And so it went on – and on. Louisa sat quietly in a chair listening to them argue in circles. Until, finally, she’d had enough.

  ‘They’re right,’ she told the dean. ‘They should go now. But they shouldn’t go alone. I’ll go with them.’

  They all turned to stare at her. She looked tired but resolute, her oval face still shiny from running, dark smudges underlining her exhausted eyes.

  ‘Louisa, you’re strong but you are not an army,’ the dean told her with surprising gentleness. ‘You can’t save everyone.’

  ‘I know I can’t save everyone,’ she snapped. ‘But I can save them.’ She glanced at Taylor and Sacha. ‘Alastair will come, too. We can travel separately, staying in touch. Make Mortimer think they’re alone. If he believes he has them, they’ll get farther.’

  Once Louisa’s mind was made up, the argument had ended fairly quickly. Giving in to the inevitable, Jones called for Zeitinger. If the German professor was surprised to be summoned in the middle of the night his expression didn’t betray it when he bustled into the dean’s office with an armful of books and papers.

  Ignoring the others, he headed straight to Taylor, his eyes red-rimmed but alert.

  ‘You are leaving now because of the attack?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ he said firmly. ‘It is the right thing.’

  ‘How far have you got with your research?’ The dean had removed his tie. His jacket hung across the back of his chair, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A roadmap of France lay spread across his desk, and he’d been tracing a route with Louisa when Zeitinger walked in.

  ‘I think I have the information we need,’ Zeitinger told him. ‘The book is difficult in places. Falkenstein’s directions are not always logical. But the basics are clear.’

  Dropping a notebook onto the table on top of the map, he pointed at a line of symbols. They gathered around him to see. To Taylor, they were frustratingly unreadable – triangles, circles, squiggly lines. But Zeitinger looked pleased.

  ‘According to Falkenstein,’ Zeitinger said, ‘the most important thing is that the ceremony must take place at the precise location where the curse was issued.’ He thumped his finger on his notebook. ‘The exact spot.’

  ‘Professor, the curse was three hundred years ago,’ Sacha said doubtfully. ‘How will we find out exactly where it happened?’

  The professor beamed at him.

  ‘You don’t have to. I already have.’

  Pulling a page out from the stack of papers, he flipped it over. It was a tourist map of Carcassonne. Its vivid colour scheme seemed incongruous in the muted room.

  ‘This was the only map of Carcassonne I could locate,’ Zeitinger explained. ‘They don’t seem to make maps of this town in normal colours. Now, places of execution were often chosen using pagan methods. Many were located intentionally on ground believed to have mystical powers. Later, churches were built on these very locations. The church wanted the old beliefs expunged completely, and what better way than to build a temple to your new god on top of the one for the old?’

  Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a sheet of paper.

  ‘This is the
description of the execution from the book of Sacha’s family. It describes the place of burning in the centre of Carcassonne. This book…’ He grabbed a leather-bound book from the stack and held it up without opening it. ‘… describes the same location – so the burnings at this time took place in the square at the top of the hill in the town centre within the walls of the old citadel.’ He pressed his finger against a point on the map of Carcassonne. ‘Without question, this is where you must go.’

  When he lifted his hand, Taylor saw the cross beneath it. She leaned forward to read the words written beside it.

  ‘The Basilica of St Nazaire?’

  ‘A church,’ the professor said, nodding. ‘It was once very small. But it was expanded in the eighteenth century and again in the nineteenth. On top of the old gallows.’

  ‘I can’t believe they built a church on an execution ground,’ Sacha sounded horrified.

  ‘They sanctify the ground first,’ Zeitinger told him. ‘Claiming it for God. It’s a kind of purification. Pointless of course. You cannot undo Dark practice with a prayer. But it is enough for priests.’

  ‘And the ceremony?’ Taylor looked at him. ‘Once we find the place and get in the church, what do we do?’

  At this, the professor’s expression became sombre. ‘Yes. This we must discuss.’ He glanced around the room before turning back to Taylor. ‘Let us talk in private, you and I. And leave the others to their planning.’

  When no one objected, he’d led her out of the dean’s office and down the hallway to a small office. It was clean and modern – a soulless cube. Taylor found herself wondering who spent every day here, surrounded by so much nothing.

  ‘I did not want the others to hear what I have to tell you.’ The professor shuffled through his papers until he found the one he wanted. He stared solemnly at her. ‘The ceremony is very difficult and very dangerous. I am sorry to say, I am not convinced you will survive it. Are you certain you wish to go forward with this?’

  Taylor’s heart clenched. She didn’t want to die. But she’d seen that creature last night. She’d killed it with her own hands. And she’d seen Bringers and a man with unimaginable Dark power.

  There was no going back.

  ‘I’m certain,’ she said, determinedly.