A Shiver of Shadows

by Hunter J. Skye

  Rasmus looked away, and the violating pressure of his gaze eased from my aching skull. He was contemplating something. I felt him groping through both our brains for that elusive puzzle piece, that one last scrap of evidence he needed. “Ask yourself—” His attention invaded me again. “—what is the point in having a weapon, if you will never use it?” He tilted his disintegrating head as if awaiting an answer. His boney fingers toyed with the lock on the barred door of my cell. “Save yourself, Melisande Blythe. No one else will.”

  And there it was, the reason Rasmus had been a bad priest. You have to have compassion for a person to want to save them, and Rasmus had no sympathy in his crumbling heart. You can take the boy out of the Old Testament, but you can’t take the Old Testament out of the boy. He was as cruel as Cain. He was as hateful as Herod.

  “Remember what I gave you, child.” He glared at me. Then Rasmus of Gomorrah turned his back and walked away, but he left the door open.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The Earth End

  Grayford

  Ice cold water dripped into my eye, and I sat up too quickly. The room spun, taking my stomach with it. A bag of ice fell into my lap. I looked around the small room which had magically replaced the crypt. I was on a tidy bed, next to a simple wooden nightstand. A window looked out on a day that had passed without me. I’d also lost my boots but gained another shirt, and my trousers were finally dry.

  “You may need an X-ray,” someone shouted next to me. I leapt out of my skin then grabbed my head to keep it from splitting in two.

  “Sorry. I’ll whisper.” A young man placed a finger to his lips. “Here. Take these.” He handed me a collection of small white pills that I had no intention of placing in my mouth. I remembered him from the crypt. His polished staff leaned in the corner by the door, not in the corner next to him. “It’s just aspirin. No? Okay. I’ll leave them right here.” He placed the pills on the nightstand. Next to a glass of water.

  “May I?” He gestured to the tiny lamp on the nightstand.

  I nodded, which set the room spinning again. I shielded my eyes from the sudden light.

  “How long have I been—"

  “Several days, I’m afraid.”

  “No.” I looked out the window again. The day that was ending was one I hadn’t even seen start. “No, this cannot be. I must find Melisande. I must not delay.” Pain lanced through my head.

  “Brother Elric apologizes for the—” He pointed to his temple but looked at mine. I gingerly placed my fingers against the tender lump beside my eye. The young man winced. His skin was too young and smooth to line his dark brow as he did so. I’d seen a lot of faces in my time. So many that I’d learned to recognize a good man just by the way he held his mouth. His widespread lips pursed with sympathy, then relaxed. Their curved outlines burrowed at the corners, waiting to pull into a friendly smile. I studied his dark face for a moment. Blue and cranberry tones danced beneath the shiny umber of his low cheeks. He’d spoken with an accent that might have been Sudanese.

  “Brother Elric can expect my fist against his bone box soon.”

  The young man chuckled. “I’d like to see that.” His promised smile spread wide over ivory teeth.

  “Why was I out for so long? What did Brother Elric do to me?”

  “He hit you with the earth end of his staff.”

  I peered at him in confusion.

  “The air end is for battle. The earth end is for calling magic.” He pointed to both ends of his staff. “The good news is the magic he pulled from you knocked him on his ass.”

  “He removed my magic?”

  “No, but he did get a taste of it. The healers had to visit him as well.”

  “Healers,” I whispered to myself and ran a hand down my torso. I felt no other wounds but the one on my head.

  “They kept you in stasis, because your heart stopped later that evening.”

  I stared at him with my mouth agape and tried to comprehend the concept. Souls could be static, but not bodies. Maybe that explained why I was not dying of thirst. I had not urinated on myself. Except for my head, my body felt as it had before the deadly blow.

  The young man slowly extended his hand. “As-Salam Alaykum. I am Abdo.”

  I grasped his hand.

  “Colonel William Grayford.”

  “Colonel, I am glad you are still among us.” The young man was filled with a peaceful, calm energy and something more.

  “Please tell me, where is Miss Blythe?”

  “I don’t know.” Abdo made no hesitation and shook his head as he said it, which likely meant he was telling the truth.

  “She was taken by a man to the Second Gate. Does that mean anything to you?”

  The young man went still.

  “That’s something you will need to discuss with the Archdruid.”

  “The sooner the better.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and nearly retched. I was certain there was nothing in my stomach, but bile was at the ready.

  “This is my room. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t vomit in it.”

  I gave him a sour look and took a long moment to roll up the sleeves of the tobacco-brown linen shirt I’d been given. My boots were tucked at the edge of the bed. Abdo handed them to me, and I laced them on, careful to keep my head straight. I wasn’t entirely sure I could walk, but I couldn’t lose another second. Melisande might be somewhere in the facility, and I’d lost days.

  I took a deep breath and stood. The young man eyed me from his seat. I turned and scooped the aspirin from the nightstand. Down the hatch they went.

  “Shall we?” I bowed slightly and regretted it.

  My guard stood, retrieved his staff, and opened the door.

  ****

  A din of voices swam through the echoing cavern of the cathedral as the last tours of the day clustered and drifted through the monumental space. I risked the nausea and tipped my head back to take in the splendor above me as we crossed the length of the nave.

  White-frosted, lead-lined windows reached three-and-a-half stories high then gave way to a webbing of decorated arches too high to appreciate. Above that, a collection of stone saints stared down from their elevated alcoves. Higher still, another set of stained glass let in the light through its vibrant blue, red, and gold pieces. There may have been figures up there whose robes offered an occasional splash of green, but it was hard to tell from my ground-level perspective. Those designs were clearly only for angels to enjoy.

  My guide greeted a pair of docents as we crossed the Quire. We passed the tomb of St. Thomas and started up a set of wide wooden stairs. Everything was clearly marked with signs, descriptions, and histories for the wandering tourists. No doubt it was a task for most to envision a time before their own lives. The visitors milling about whispered as if the Archbishop, Thomas Beckett, was still kneeling at the altar, oblivious of his impending murder. I, however, could envision bygone days with little difficulty. The souls of the past still whispered to me.

  A covered bridge led us to The Chapter House, which sat slightly askew from the rest of the outbuildings, and, though still decorated with stained glass and adorned with wood and stone embellishments, it was a more businesslike space.

  The druid led me through the main area and into a small room at the back with two thin doorways on either side. Several priests shot me a sideways glance as I followed the young druid through one slim doorway. They casually collected their belongings and left the room by the opposite door.

  “Please have a seat.”

  “No…thank you.”

  The druid nodded once, then opened another door I’d not noticed. The segment of wall slid open, and a moment later the gray-bearded man stepped through. His glassy gaze slid over me then lingered on the lump at my temple.

  “Why do you think this woman is with us?”

  No introductions. I may have been apprehended sneaking into their midst, but they’d nearly drowned me and rung my bell to boot. That moment wou
ld have been a good one to start afresh.

  “When Rasmus abducted her, he mentioned the Second Gate.” I returned his piercing stare. “I am told you might know something about hell gates.” The druid flicked his gaze again, and my guide closed both doors, sealing us into the small room.

  “We do not discuss gates or individuals like Rasmus within the earshot of the Archbishop.” He lowered his chin to regard me through the filter of his thick brows. “And his ears are everywhere.”

  “I was informed that the Archbishop was a druid as well. Is he not privy to the workings of the Order?”

  “He is an honorary druid. It is a title only. And no, he is not privy to the ancient knowledge passed down to us from our forefathers. In fact, very few are aware of the gates. Who are you, and how did you gain access to the wells?”

  “Colonel William Grayford, and happenstance led me to the fey’s assistance. I am traveling with no means or identification.”

  The Archdruid eyed me anew.

  “You are lucky. We thought you an evil spirit.”

  “I gathered as much.”

  “Why are you traveling in this manner?”

  “Where is Miss Blythe?”

  “I told you, we do not have knowledge of her whereabouts.” The druid lowered his head as if in thought. The gesture buried half his face in gray whiskers. He emerged from his beard with a decision made.

  “After your mention of Melisande Blythe, I looked into her situation.” He turned to the window where the sun was setting over the quaintly restored city of Canterbury. “I have learned that she is the one that closed the Seventh Gate.” He did not turn to address me. “The ways must be maintained, or they will threaten our realm. If Miss Blythe has been taken to the Second Gate, then it must be in jeopardy.”

  “You are not guarding the Second Gate?”

  “No.” He finally turned. I wasn’t sure I believed him. If he wasn’t lying, then he was definitely hiding something. “And, as I said, if she has been summoned, then perhaps it was for good reason.”

  “She was not summoned. She was abducted,” I growled.

  In response to my tone, the aging man planted his feet and squared off. The cloudy glass of his irises began to spin. A light breeze stirred the papers on a nearby desk. His call to power crackled in the air.

  “Perhaps we can point you in the right direction,” Brother Abdo spoke up quietly.

  The Archdruid’s offer of violence was right on time. A good fight would help me set my mind to rights, but I still understood very little of the magic trapped inside me. I let go of the enticement before the pressure could grow inside my chest. The druid’s hypnotic eyes slowed to a stop.

  “What is the right direction?” I kept my eyes on the Archdruid. Another glance passed between Abdo and Graybeard.

  “Andorra,” Abdo offered. The tired wheels in my brain ground to a stop.

  “Andorra?” I turned to the young man. He nodded once.

  “The Second Gate is in the Pyrenees between France and Spain.”

  I took a stumbling step away from them. Exhaustion and pain caught up to me, and the room began to shift and sway. Abdo raised a steadying hand to me, but I brushed it off.

  “Take him to the refectory and feed him,” the Archdruid instructed. “Give him what he needs, then escort him to the tower.” He waved a hand to dismiss us. The tower? The Tower of London had been used, among other things, to torture prisoners. What purpose did the towers of Canterbury Cathedral serve? Surely, they realized I would not be taken again.

  Abdo bowed and steered me toward the door.

  “Colonel,” the Archdruid called. “I trust we will not see you here again.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  I tipped my head in agreement.

  ****

  Heavenly aromas washed over me as I followed Abdo into the refectory. The scent of ham, stewing vegetables, and fresh bread conjured a growl from my stomach. I was hungrier than I thought. Hungry enough to eat through the pain and queasiness.

  We sat at a long table and intercepted the boarding house pass of dishes as they made their way down the line. Warm, buttery potatoes arrived first. I took a healthy scoop and passed it to the fellow two seats away. Boiled cabbage was next, followed by sliced ham. My mouth watered at the sight of my heaping plate.

  A breadbasket came next, and I took a roll.

  “Eat up, rat. You’ll need your strength for the sewer.” I turned to see who I assumed was Brother Elric claiming the seat next to me. My hand tightened on the basket. With eyes locked on his, I leaned into him and passed the basket to his neighbor.

  “Easy. I don’t want your fey crawlers on me.” He shoved me into Abdo, and the dining hall iced over with silence.

  I stood too quickly and staggered. I placed a hand on Abdo to stabilize.

  “Sir, may I see you about a matter outside?” I reached to unbuckle my sword and hand it to Abdo, but of course it still wasn’t at my side.

  The cocksure fellow pushed his plate away and stood. We were of a height and weight that would make for a fair fight. The only problem was there were two of him and one of me. The room began to spin again.

  “Elric, the Colonel is our guest.” Abdo stepped between us. His voice was business-like and calm. “Colonel, please take a seat. You are unwell.” Abdo turned his back on Elric, and the bigger man clapped a rough hand on Abdo’s shoulder. I guessed Elric was attempting to turn Abdo to face him, but my Sudanese friend did not budge. Instead, his eyes warmed to a tawny gold. Two black stripes painted down his cheeks from his tear ducts to the corners of his mouth. I shook my head and blinked to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. A collection of black spots dusted his dark face. “Sit…down.” Abdo turned to his brother, and a low growl trembled through the quiet air.

  Elric’s face washed of its haughty look. He reached for his plate and moved to a spot farther down the table. When Abdo turned back to me, his shiny umber face was back to its calm, pleasant form.

  “I believe I will take a seat,” I mumbled and lowered to the communal bench. Abdo reclaimed his seat, and the refectory filled with the rumble of conversation once more.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Don’t be a pussy.

  Grayford

  Sleep would have to wait. I’d already lost valuable time, and the healers had taken far too long looking me over again. Abdo was right about the X-ray. The fact that my vulnerable bones could crack with one blow rankled immensely.

  I waited anxiously while the young druid packed a small shoulder sack with extra water and rolls. The information he had bestowed on me was dire.

  “They can seem quite normal,” Abdo reminded. “Don’t let them fool you. Vampires are killers. Just because they’ve found a way to feed without killing doesn’t mean they don’t still kill for fun.” He zipped the sack closed, and I threaded an arm through the straps. “Don’t turn your back on them, and strike first if you are given the chance.”

  Abdo’s words shook me to the core. The thought of Melisande in the grip of such beasts chilled me to the bone. I’d never allowed a creature of that sort to come anywhere near my city. They were a blight on humanity. Now, I was walking into a nest of them. I had no idea how vampires were sired. I could only pray they had not infected Melisande.

  My fingers itched for my sword as I followed the young druid from his domicile to a set of steep, time-tilted steps. The stone walls pressed close as we climbed the narrow spiral. After an endless curving climb, we emerged from a stone spire and stepped out onto the reinforced floor of one of the cathedral’s hulking towers. Night had dragged its inky cloak across the small city of Canterbury. The medieval section surrounding the cathedral glowed warmly with period lighting. Beyond that, the modern world blazed with its manic white pools of artificial light.

  I stepped closer to the edge of the tower wall to get a better view, and the world began to wheel. My head pounded like a drum.

  “Perhaps your balance isn’t what it
should be.” Abdo slipped a strong, but gentle hand into the bend of my arm. I let him guide me away from the spinning edge. He was shorter than me and carried slightly less muscle, but there was an aura of strength about him. The transformation I’d seen on Abdo’s face had been enough to stop Elric in his tracks. I longed to ask my new friend about it, but I would not force a confidence.

  “I think you are right.”

  Abdo gave me a look that was half amusement and half concern.

  “Do you remember all that I’ve told you?”

  I thought before I answered. “Yes.”

  “I wish I knew more about the Second Gate. It is an old doorway to a dark place. The vampires are using it. They exploit the gate and the waters it pollutes.” He looked out over the buzzing city. “It is their sustenance and their livelihood. If it is truly endangered and your Melisande can help, then—” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “—she is still alive.”

  I clenched my jaw tight against the swell of hope his words called forth. Relief rode in its wake, and I could not afford to feel that yet. There would be no relief until my beloved filled my arms. My lips yearned to kiss the silky top of her head. My hands craved to clutch the satin of her arms. But I could not think those thoughts. Not now. I needed every ounce of strength I had to reach her.

  “Like I said, I can get you closer, but beyond that—” He shook his head. “When you reach the castle in Carcassonne, look for the mountains in the distance. Head for the heights. The spas are tucked in a valley at the center of the range.”

  I nodded so he knew I’d comprehended all he’d said.

  “Shukran, Abdo. You are most kind.” The Arabic word came back to me from a faraway place.

  “Afwan. It is my pleasure.” He rolled a thin jacket into a ball and stuffed it in the bag at my back along with a few Euros. Then, he zipped it closed again.

  “I will repay you.”

  “No.”

  He laid a hand on my heart. “Travel with intention, friend. Ask yourself what you hope to achieve and if the route you’ve selected will take you there.”