Blood Rite

by E.J. Stevens

  She strode over to the tunnel wall, peeled back a thick layer of latex blood, and pointed at a small hole. I leaned forward, careful not to touch Delilah or the wall, and stared into the adjacent hallway. The narrow space was lined in mirrors and filled with zombies. The visual effect, an infinity of zombies of all shapes and sizes, sucked the air from my lungs.

  Since I’d so recently shamed myself by falling on my butt, I was careful not to lurch back from the opening, but it was a near thing. By the time I moved away from the wall, my heart was doing a tap dance to match the creepy Haunted House music which was like a kid turning the crank on a Jack-in-the-Box while on crack.

  “Can they see us?” I asked when I regained my voice.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Good,” I said.

  The tunnels in both directions were a black void, dark even to faerie eyes. We didn’t have a flashlight, but we had the next best thing. I let some of my fear leach to the surface of my skin, emanating enough of a glow that we were unlikely to break our necks on our way to the portal.

  Ceff nodded his approval and Delilah started down the tunnel. Torn grinned from ear to ear and quickened his step, nearly clicking his heels with joy. I shook my head. We were going to go see a dragon. What was there to be so happy about?

  Thankfully, the portal wasn’t far. Before rounding another corner, Delilah gestured for me to turn off the wisp glow. It didn’t take long to see why.

  In the center of the building, in a large, cavernous room made to look like a cave filled with gigantic spiders and their webs, stood the portal. The gateway was large enough for even the zombie centaurs to pass through without ducking their decaying heads, and it swirled sickeningly with a blue, spectral light.

  I scratched at my arms absently and surveyed the artificial cave beyond. Faux spiderwebs crisscrossed the space, holding the weight of giant plastic spiders and their cocooned victims. The cocoons were soaked with fake blood and I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t real.

  The thing was, some of this was real. The zombies weren’t part of the show, stumbling and crawling their way to the portal. Their stench was an unavoidable reminder that they weren’t just people, and pets, wearing makeup and costumes.

  As horrific as the scene was, this wasn’t all that we’d come to see.

  “Dragon?” I mouthed, not quite willing to risk a whisper, even with the incessant music echoing through the tunnel.

  But Delilah only pointed at the portal. I focused on the swirl of blue until I caught sight of motion beyond the portal’s threshold. A dark form emerged, rolled, rising up from the depths. It was like watching sharks swimming just beneath the ocean’s surface.

  Guarding the entrance to the Necropolis, watching hungrily as every zombie passed through the portal, paced a mountain of scales and claws. Even through the portal, I could see that those claws were made for rending flesh from bone.

  I swallowed hard, mouth going dry, as the dragon, a real undead zombie dragon, prowled back and forth. The dragon’s muscles rolled beneath black scales that shimmered where they caught and reflected the gateway’s spectral glow.

  A zombie stumbled over the bones that littered the Necropolis and the dragon lunged, snarling and snapping its jaws. It struck fast as a viper and its jaw muscles were impressive, but the rows of razor-like teeth were the most disturbing. Or so I thought.

  The dragon’s long, lizard tongue lashed out, flickering between sharp teeth that were the most terrifying thing I could imagine. Then it unfurled its wings. They were leathery, bat-like, tattered from decay, and dark as midnight, except where they were shot through with the contrasting brightness of moonlit bone. This was by far the most monstrous, most powerful creature I’d ever seen.

  Oh, yeah. That was going to be a problem.

  I crept away from the gate and back down the tunnel. I might be a faerie, the daughter of a wisp king and queen Mab herself, but at that moment I stumbled along like a mundane human. Oberon knows, I tried, but fear still took hold. I’m convinced that there is something deep in our brainstems, whispering in our very DNA, the knowledge that whether human or faerie, we would never stand a chance against a fully-grown dragon.

  So, I did what any sensible creature would do. I ran.

  When I could breathe again, I met the eyes of my friends and my beloved, under the hatch that might, if our luck held, lead us to safety.

  I was aware of the irony that the claustrophobic ductwork that had seemed so threatening moments ago now held only the hope of escape. Funny how a zombie dragon changes things.

  I had no idea how we could defeat a creature that huge, that powerful, or how we could get past the zombie dragon, enter the Necropolis, and destroy the lich king and his zombie horde. Right at this moment, I was unsure of so many things. But one thing was certain.

  “We need a priest.”

  Chapter 21

  Torn and Delilah decided to stay behind and continue to spy on the zombies milling through the carnival grounds. I was a bit dubious about that team-up, but I wasn’t even sure about the logistics of a succubus entering a church, and I couldn’t expect my priest friend to carry his occult library all the way to Private Eye. Things were so much easier when I could pop around the corner and stop by The Emporium for research on rare creatures, but those days were over.

  Ceff and I left the cat sidhe and succubus behind and made our way up Joysen Hill. It was strangely quiet for this part of town, as if even the seasoned criminals of the supernatural community were laying low, sensing trouble on the wind.

  Rather than easing the tension in my shoulders, the lack of obvious threats made me even jumpier than usual. Considering that Joysen Hill was the nexus for the city’s most violent crimes, the vile underbelly of the supernatural underworld where the most dangerous and immoral of the fae and the undead came fang to toe with Harborsmouth’s most disenfranchised, we should have been accosted or been witness to some evil deed at least once by now.

  “This is creepy,” I said, scanning the area for threats.

  The leather of my gloves creaked as my grip tightened on my knives. Even though my glamour, a new lifesaving skill I’d picked up in the crucible of the wisp court, could conceal my weapons, I probably needn’t have bothered.

  I’d only ever seen one cop on The Hill. Most of the city’s finest chose to cast a blind eye to the criminal wrongdoings here. Not that I could blame them. More than one don’t-look-here spell was active here in the East End. Even if the cops patrolled these streets, they’d never see the monsters that lurked in the shadows or the ones who hid in plain sight.

  That’s why I’d started my own patrols, even working at times with Master Janus’ people. The Hunters’ Guild was a secret society descended from the Knights Templar. They were a rare group of, mostly, humans who knew about the existence of supernaturals, and their job was to protect humans from vampires and faeries who crossed the line, usually succumbing to bloodlust or deciding that humans were super fun playthings to torture.

  I’d first been introduced to the Hunters’ Guild by Jenna Lehane, a young woman and kick-ass Hunter who had sworn to protect the innocent from supernatural threats. Unfortunately, Jenna was also sworn to a brotherhood that frowned on turning on each other. So, when Jenna found out a Hunter had assaulted Jinx, she’d done the right thing, and ended up shipped off to Europe. The Guild had come in handy, especially during our battle with the Wild Hunt, but I missed Jenna.

  “Perhaps, your nighttime excursions have had the desired effect,” Ceff said.

  I shook my head. I’d like to believe that, but I knew that for every crime we solved, for every person we saved, more evil would sprout from the soil of The Hill. It was like the vampires who owned most of the Joysen Hill real estate had seeded the East End with some kind of tainted magic beans. Who knows? Maybe, they had. Stranger things have happened.

  Speaking of strange, there was a church grim prancing atop the Gothic spires of the church,
playing chase with one of the gargoyles who guarded the stone parapets. Church grims are small, adorable faeries that look similar to baby lambs with curly hair the color of milk. That wasn’t the strange part. What was unusual was that the grim had stuck around.

  Church grims are death portents, appearing only when a child is about to die. When this grim first appeared, fluttering around the church’s ceiling, we’d known that at least one of Father Michael’s flock was in grave danger. Things had turned out alright in the end, but it had been a close call. It had taken a lot of work to reassure the faerie families that their children were safe. We’d been so busy, none of us noticed that the grim never left.

  So, now Sacred Heart Church had its own resident church grim and the only thing the playful faerie liked more than snuggling with Galliel, the gorgeous unicorn who lived here in seclusion, was chasing the pigeons and gargoyles who roosted on the spires that reached toward the heavens.

  I suppose a unicorn should also seem strange, but Galliel and I had bonded the moment we met. It was love at first sight, and we’d been each other’s family ever since. If it wasn’t for the fact that the little guy was in hiding—unicorn horn is a magically potent delicacy that meant Galliel’s life would always be in danger from poachers—I would have offered to take him home. Of course, I’d have to get a bigger apartment. Maybe, Ceff had a point when he said we should go house hunting.

  Father Michael and Galliel welcomed us as soon as we entered the church, the latter knocking me on my butt in his enthusiasm for ear scratches. It was the second time today that I’d landed on my backside, but I didn’t mind. I loved the unicorn and our cuddles. Galliel was my oasis of light in the turbulent darkness that was my everyday life.

  He didn’t even give me nightmarish visions, which was a major bonus. Galliel did, however, like to trap me on the floor while I showered him with affection. Normally, I’d be game, but we had a lich king, a zombie dragon, and an angry vampire to deal with.

  Thankfully, with far too many giggles on my part, we managed to get Galliel off me long enough to relocate to Father Michael’s office. The priest kept an extensive occult library in his office. The collection was impressive, and more than one of those books were pilfered from the Vatican. I wasn’t the only one of my friends with a colorful past.

  Now that we were in the privacy of Father Michael’s office, Ceff and I were filling in the priest on what we knew.

  Father Michael deserved to know that his congregation may be facing a new deadly threat, and we needed information. People think that all a hero needs is a strong sword, but, in my experience, she needs good friends and good intel.

  “Sir Gaius came to your office?” Father Michael asked, head bobbing over a notebook in an excited bird-like motion. “That is most interesting.”

  “Oh, it gets much more interesting, padre,” I said.

  “Do I dare ask how this meeting with the vampire master ended?” he asked, looking up from his desk.

  “What?” I asked. “We still had all of our blood on the inside. I’d call that a win. Gaius was pissed about his harvesting rights. It could have gone worse.”

  Much worse.

  “Ivy made a promise to find out who was responsible for the graverobbing,” Ceff said. “Hence our need for haste.”

  “Ah, you should really stop doing that, my dear,” Father Michael said.

  I rolled my eyes. Well, I tried to. I stopped midway due to the stabbing pain in my skull. It was like little goblins were using tiny pickaxes on my optic nerve. Stupid bargains and their side-effects.

  I must have let out a low moan, because Galliel nudged me and licked my face. It tickled my nose and I sneezed, surprising both of us.

  “As you can see, she already has a headache,” Ceff said. “It will get worse, fatigue and pain tearing her apart, until we find the person responsible and notify Sir Gaius.”

  I shrugged one shoulder, not meeting Ceff’s concerned gaze.

  “It’s a case,” I said. “I’ll solve it. It’s what I do.”

  “We know precisely what you do, dear,” Father Michael said. “That is why we are concerned.”

  I let out a snort but refrained from shaking my head. As much as I hated to admit it, they were right. I was too quick to do what I believed to be the right thing, usually putting myself directly into danger. And if Sir Gaius walked into my office tomorrow and threatened Jinx, I’d do it all over again.

  Jinx wasn’t just my best friend. She was my sister. She was my heart. Jinx represented all of things that were good about humans, the things I’d come to believe anyway, and I couldn’t lose her. If there was a choice between watching Jinx be harmed or taking on a bad bargain, I’d accept that debt every time.

  In fact, an entire new family had crept into my life, giving me more and more friends to protect. I used to think I’d die alone. I’d been a fool. If I were to die, it would be saving lives. My family had grown, but so had the risks.

  “The case isn’t the part you should be concerned about,” I said.

  “Yes, of course, there is the matter of the zombies,” Father Michael said, leaning forward and licking his lips.

  The priest was obsessed with demonology, but he was also a sucker for any kind of supernatural knowledge. I’m sure he’d get a kick out of hearing about the great zombie gerbil hunt, but we didn’t have time. Ceff was right about that. We were on a deadline.

  So, I filled him in on the bodies in the dumpster, the empty graves, my vision, and the zombies staggering their way through the abandoned carnival, heading toward a magic portal that led to the Necropolis. It was a lot to take in.

  I was careful not to mention Delilah, since we couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. If I mentioned the succubus, Father Michael was likely to ramble on about the demonic origins of that particular kind of fae. We couldn’t afford the distraction.

  “We must enter the lich king’s realm,” Ceff said. “He no longer needs to perform his blood rites here in Harborsmouth.”

  I nodded, lips pressed in a hard line.

  “With his plans set in motion, all the lich king has to do is sit back in his pocket dimension and reap the rewards,” I said.

  “The residual magic in the faerie corpses,” Father Michael said. “Fascinating.”

  “Yes, as zombies, the dead will literally walk the magic to his doorstep,” I said. “Making the lich even more powerful.”

  “Oh, dear,” he muttered. “Even if you weren’t in the thrall of a bargain, you would need to make haste. But I believe you still have time.”

  “Time, padre?” I asked.

  “Time to defeat the lich,” he said absently, shuffling through books and scrolls. “Before he absorbs too much magic.”

  He got up, pacing and squinting at the shelves that lined his office. His head bobbed as he searched for what he was looking for.

  “Before he gets too powerful,” I said, the direness of our situation sinking in.

  That certainly upped the timetable.

  “According to this, there are ways to defeat a lich,” he said. “It will not be easy, but I have faith in you.”

  Father Michael lifted a scroll that bore the Vatican’s seal. Usually, I’d tease when the priest hauled out one of the obviously stolen manuscripts, but I was a bit busy worrying about liches and zombie dragons while petting a unicorn. My life really is weird.

  “It gets worse,” I said.

  “How can it possibly be worse than zombies, blood sacrifices, and a lich king?” Father Michael asked, twitching nervously.

  “There is the matter of the dragon,” Ceff said.

  Father Michael gaped. I snorted and continued to pet Galliel.

  “Told you it was worse,” I said. “And that’s not all.”

  “Wait,” Father Michael said, easing himself into the chair behind his desk. He’d been running his hands through his hair which now stuck out in every direction. “I think I might need to sit for this.”

  “Ready?” I a
sked.

  “Okay, yes, ready as I’ll ever be,” he said. “Not that I can possibly see how this could get any worse.”

  “The dragon guarding the lich king’s portal isn’t just an ordinary dragon,” I said. Okay, even I couldn’t believe I’d said that with a straight face. “The guardian is a zombie. A zombie dragon.”

  “I stand corrected,” he said. “I guess I should have known.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Things are always worse where you’re concerned,” he said.

  Galliel whinnied, and Ceff hid a grin. Traitors.

  “Any idea how to kill a zombie dragon?” I asked.

  “You don’t,” he said.

  “Not helpful,” I said.

  “What I mean is, you cannot kill the dragon directly,” he said. “It is clear in all of the lore that killing a dragon requires an epic quest.”

  “Which we do not have time for,” Ceff said, frowning.

  “Right,” Father Michael said. “But you do not have to kill this dragon. It is already dead.”

  “Because it’s a zombie?” I asked. “Doesn’t that make my job harder?”

  “No, look here,” he said, pushing an open book toward me and pointing at the page. “If you kill a lich, all of his creations, every zombie that he has animated, will cease to be a zombie.”

  “So, they’ll die, again,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Their corpses will no longer be animated.”

  “That’s a great plan except for one tiny detail,” I said. “The zombie dragon guards the portal.”

  “Then you will need to find another way into the Necropolis,” he said.

  “I’m guessing that will be a tad difficult,” I said.

  “As will killing a lich king,” he said.

  “Awesome,” I said.

  Chapter 22

  As we left Sacred Heart, my phone chimed. I pulled it from my jacket pocket and Ceff raised an eyebrow.

  “Text from Forneus,” I said. I stared at the screen, eyes going wide. “He says he knows another way into the Necropolis.”