by HP Mallory
“It sounds like your best bet is to throw in with the rebels, the Council of Simon?”
Perenelle didn’t take that suggestion well. “Need I remind you that these self-same barbarians were quite eager to execute us before your timely intervention? Why should we think that an attempted defection to their cause would secure us your desired result?”
Nicolas hummed with equal parts of disapproval and deep thought. “Do be less harsh on our protector’s suggestions, dear wife. She merely wishes that we—”
“Oui, oui, husband. But it makes her suggestions no less unworkable.” Taking a breath, she looked at me and smiled. “I confess that I am put off by the sheer arrogance of the Council of Simon. They hold the erroneous belief that their many years of imprisonment qualify them to be the new masters of this Circle.”
I tapped my chin. “And you think because it’s such a self-defeating circle jerk, the damned have no business leading the damned?”
Perenelle sighed and gave me a look I couldn’t decipher. “I have to admit that your colloquialisms seem to come in only two categories: those beyond the scope of my knowledge or those that are crude to the point of pornography.”
I grinned at her. “Compared to my guardian angel, Bill, I’m a complete amateur where crude is concerned, but I apologize if I offended you. Seems Bill is rubbing off on me.”
That’s what she said, I said to myself and then groaned.
Nicolas grinned. “Even so, dear Perenelle, you must admit that our little warrior perfectly captured the essence of your counter argument. And perhaps you will recall that I suggested the same regarding joining the rebels after the first raid.”
“I feel outnumbered,” Perenelle said with a frown.
I raised both my hands. “Guys, look, I’m not taking anyone’s side with this conversation. I’m just like you… trying to figure out the best way forward.”
Nicolas’s face turned grave. “Indeed… Which is why I am increasingly inclined to think Perenelle and I should join your exodus from the morgue altogether.”
I was debating whether now might be a good time to mention Tallis’s emergency exit through the Dark Wood when Perenelle responded to her husband. “And where would we go upon making such an exit, hmm? It has been centuries since we trod the world above. We have no friends nor allies waiting for us there.”
“And we have even less friends and allies down here,” Nicolas argued. “It is difficult to escape the feeling that the list of our enemies continues to grow with each new raid on the laboratory. The situation is becoming untenable.”
I replied with a bit of verse that suddenly popped up in my head. “Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere, The ceremony of innocence is drowned.”
“Returning to behold the radiant stars…”
-Dante’s Inferno
EIGHTEEN
LILY
Perenelle and Nicolas looked at me in awe.
“That is lovely,” Perenelle said on a sigh.
I shrugged as I glanced between them. “It’s by a poet: William Butler Yeats. He was a little after your time.”
Nicolas nodded in appreciation. “To hear such verse, one would think Monsieur Yeats had endured our own trials and tribulations in this place. Regardless of who triumphs in this conflict, the winning side will likely dispose of us once our usefulness comes to an end.”
Perenelle’s face paled. “Perhaps such a fate need not be so terrible. So long as we go together, the pain will be lessened.”
Nicolas sagged against the wall like a deflated balloon. “I do admit that I am growing weary of this constant struggle. And the obstacles in escaping from the Underground City are as formidable as you have implied.”
That fatalistic talk made my temper kick into overdrive. Donnchadh was behind a lot of it but I was pretty irritated on my own. Donnchadh, I summon you to manifest your presence in my eyes until I’ve scared them out of this shitty plan they’re hatching.
When my vision started developing a crimson haze around it, I realized I was in the process of getting what I asked for. The trick now was making sure I kept Donnchadh in check.
Once they caught sight of my eyes, Perenelle took a few steps back in fear while Nicolas prepared to toss his vial my way. I could hear the roughness of Donnchadh’s voice overlaying my own while I talked. “Surrender is the dumbest idea either of you could choose. These bastards will never offer you anything other than an eternity of torture. You’ll be brutalized and made to watch each other suffer forever.” I felt my vocal cords tightening as I struggled to spit out the next words. “While we are together, there will be no surrender… no pity… no mercy… no—”
Dammit, Donnchadh was fighting me for control and this time, I could feel him pulling out all the stops. My hand only got halfway to my blade before he stopped it cold. I forced my hand to keep going while he kept pushing back against it. It was like arm wrestling a ghost.
Even when I forced my hand up nearly to the hilt of my sword, I suddenly weakened. Donnchadh turned out to be much stronger and more prepared than I’d assumed. If I didn’t grab my sword in the next few seconds, he would do a full takeover and then we’d all be screwed.
Fight him, Lily! I yelled at myself.
I clenched my eyes as I collected all the memories of people I ever cared about—my mom, Bill, Tallis. The thought of Tallis made Donnchadh recoil a bit before he started pushing against me even harder.
Noting Donnchadh’s reaction to my thoughts of Tallis encouraged me keep my mind fixed on my bladesmith… my guide… my lover. Tallis had endured this monster for centuries and Tallis had ultimately prevailed over Donnchadh. Tallis had found the inner strength to keep this angry spirit at bay, and had done so for centuries.
I pictured a flash of the tree tattoo on Tallis’s back before Donnchadh’s hold on my hand weakened. He was still fighting me but he wasn’t quite as strong now. I continued imagining the black ink outline of the tree’s branches as I felt my hand rising up to the blade of my sword.
I felt the unmistakeable burn of Donnchadh’s anger deep within me as he was forced back to the deep recesses of my psyche.
Exhaustion suddenly claimed me and I leaned back against the freestanding wall as I fought to catch my breath. Goddamn, that was too close.
Both the Flamels looked too stunned to do more than stare at me. I took a deep breath before saying, “Remind me never to use Donnchadh as a motivational speaker.”
Perenelle still looked astonished. She faced her husband. “Is there any remaining doubt as to this spirit’s true nature?”
Nicolas’s head shake was slow and deliberate. “None whatsoever… only a Spite would manifest itself in such a fashion.”
That accusation got enough adrenaline pumping in me to make me stand up straighter. “That can’t be. Yeah, Donnchadh’s the spiritual equivalent of the devil but he—”
Nicolas slid his words into my statement like he was sticking a scalpel into my skin. “…has far more power than any mere spirit should possess, regardless of its age. I should know… much of my time in the Malebranche’s service was spent writing treatises on these awful spirits.”
Perenelle’s face grew sad. “And an equal portion of my own has been spent hunting down their true history. Hard though it may be to accept, mon enfant, you are indeed host to a Spite.”
I didn’t doubt their sincerity, but I was sure they weren’t correct in their assumptions. If Donnchadh were truly a Spite, Tallis would have known about it. And more so, he would have told me… right?
“Oh, c’mon!” I said as I waved away their wide-eyed surprise. “Since Donnchadh got rammed into my subconscious, I’ve been reliving his mortal memories. Last time I checked, no Spite could ever walk across a battlefield as a man, which Donnchadh was.”
To his credit, Nicolas didn’t dismiss
my comment. “You are fully certain these memories are of this Donnchadh and not some mortal that he—”
Inspiration lit up Perenelle’s eyes and she swung her head to her husband. At the same time, they said the same word. “Rebis.”
Having no idea what they were talking about managed to cool my temper down. “Should that word mean something to me?”
Perenelle looked over at me again and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Rebis is the final aspirational goal of the alchemical Magnum Opus, the complete merging of opposites into one whole being.”
“Um… what?”
Nicolas looked a little sad. “In the usual sense, the rebis is the result of great spiritual, emotional and physical trials that improve the person undergoing it. But in this instance, something far more terrible has occurred, I fear.”
I let the new information sink in before responding. “So… what you’re saying is that somehow, Donnchadh merged with a Spite on the spiritual level and that’s why he’s such a flaming asshole now?”
Perenelle gave me a chuckle that sounded anything but amused. “Would that it were so simple, Mademoiselle Harper. For such a union to be possible, there have to be similarities between the two beings that are gradually brought to the surface.”
“Indeed, dear wife,” Nicolas concurred. “It is more likely that your Donnchadh was already quite horrible when he was a mere man. I shudder to think what processes of putrefaction were employed to make the being within you possible.”
But there was one missing piece to the puzzle. “But Spites strip their victims down to the bone. How would Donnchadh have lasted long enough to be—?”
Nicolas cut me off with a raised finger. “This current incarnation of the Spites is also the end result of a long process of purification, albeit of a vastly different bent. In the earliest days, the Spites could possess a mortal if the host contained a sufficient amount of hatred within him or her.”
Perenelle looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Not that such mortals lasted long. The relentless fury of the Spite within them drove them into murderous frenzies which would always end with the host being destroyed by his comrades.”
I covered my discomfort by clearing my throat. “So, uh, for Donnchadh to have bonded with this Spite, he had to have beat those odds, right? Lasting longer than all other possessed people?”
Perenelle met my eyes cautiously. “As improbable as such a hypothesis may seem, I can think of no better explanation based on what we have observed thus far.”
Nicolas nodded. “So far as I can tell, there is now no real difference between this Donnchadh and a Spite. They have become one and the same.”
Perenelle’s eyes took on a distant look as she repeated under her breath. “One and the same…”
Nicolas held up his vial and shook its liquid contents slightly. “What you carry inside you makes this compound safe as purified water.”
Perenelle startled both of us by slapping the wall. “I have it!”
As she delved into her apron, I asked her, “Just so we’re on the same page, what exactly do you have?”
She dug up a couple of vials and looked at me with a grin. “A way to find your friends, of course! And it all goes back to your blade.”
Nicolas gave her the look I’d seen from numerous husbands toward their wives. It usually happened when the former didn’t understand what the latter was getting at. “As both of us would like to assist you, Perenelle, would you care to elaborate?”
His wife put both of the vials in one hand and snapped her fingers with the other. “Bring forth some powdered mandrake root, my husband, and I shall explain.”
Since Perenelle’s new plan centered on my blade, I pulled it out and held it to her. She uncapped both the vials with her thumb and poured their liquid contents on the length of the blade. To my concerned stare, she shook her head.
“No harm is being done to this fine weapon, I assure you. However, it is being repurposed to serve as the solution to your dilemma.”
By this point, Nicolas had crossed over to his wife, handing her what I guessed was the requested vial of powder. His eyes never left the door, however, and he was quickly back at his post before Perenelle finished adding the powder to the liquids. Once that happened, the whole blade began to give off a faint glow and I felt a sudden tug to the right. The glow intensified even more when I let the sword swing in the direction it wanted to go.
Perenelle put the vials away and clapped her hands. “Merveilleux! Impressionnant! Prodigieux!”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “I take it this is a good thing?”
“Oh, the best, Mademoiselle Harper, the best! Because the sword was forged by Tallis Black, himself, and you share a deep connection to both it and him, the sword can now lead us directly to his location.”
Nicolas cautiously opened the door a bit wider. “Then may I suggest we be on our way? Just because danger has yet to show itself does not mean it will never arrive.”
I noticed that I had some trouble pulling the blade away from the direction it was pointing. “Is this enchantment going to alter my ability to use my sword if I need to?”
Perenelle let out an aggravated growl before slapping her head with both hands. “Idiot! I should have remembered that part of the formula.”
Nicolas pursed his lips before swinging the door the rest of the way open. “Perhaps a tincture of argent salt will mitigate any ill effects?”
Perenelle clapped her hands together. “Parfait! You do, of course, have some?”
I decided they needed a push. “Uh, guys, not to be rude but could we sort this out on the road? I’m with Nicolas; I don’t want to stay here any longer than we need to.”
Nicolas looked between me and the now-enchanted blade. “Will you be able to move the blade sufficiently to exit?”
It took a little more effort to make that happen but I did all the same. By the time Nicolas retrieved the argent salt, we were already heading in the direction the sword was pointing.
“When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past…”
-Dante’s Inferno
NINETEEN
TALLIS
Me heart sank as soon as I saw the pennant hanging over the pile of rubble that at one time had been a building.
The banner was a simple design, a white horse prancing across a black background. ‘Twas nae just the flag that caused me reserve. Even more concerning was what existed above the banner and the rubble pile: trees. Nae just any trees, either, but the sort of healthy, living trees that have nae business existing in the Underground City, never mind the morgue. It bore the signature of only one wizard. I cursed me bad luck.
What I heard next made me guts clench: laughter. It wasnae just the wizard’s laughter. I recognized Jeanne’s voice in the chorus of three.
“Bloody hell,” I grumbled.
The stookie angel, doing his best to carry one of the foodstuff boxes, gave me a nervous look. “That bad, Conan?”
I looked down at the wee fool as though I was about to charge a battlement. “When it comes tae the Welshman, it always turns out worse than ye can imagine.”
He nodded slowly, looking back at the trees. “Well, he ain’t gonna pull no Costcop shit on me…”
Kay looked at me. “What’s he talking about?”
The angel faced her with a stern expression. “Costcop, yo! The Po-Po at Costco who won’t let you leave the damn place without checkin’ your receipt!”
Kay faced me. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Ah dinnae know, lass, boot tae often have Ah asked meself the same question.”
Kay shook her head and then brought her hands to her hips. “Who is this Welshman? And why is he such bad news?”
I nodded towards the pennant. “’Tis a wizard an’ a powerful one at that. His proper name’s Gwydion fab Don, nephew tae Mag the Ancient, starter o’ wars, breaker o’ oaths an’ ruiner o’ far tae many lives. An’ that’s on his good days.”
Harry
blanched at me description of the Welshman, clutching his own box closer as though ‘twas a loved one. “Oh shit! And Jeanne’s just up there acting like nothing’s—”
“O’ course she is, lad,” I nearly spat back at the boy. “Gwydion is charmin’ when ye dinnae know his tricks.” Then me brow darkened as I added, “’Tis a damned good thing Ah do.”
I started to step forward but Kay gripped me arm. “Tallis…”
I looked down at her and saw her concern as I shook me head in exasperation. “Fer the last time, lass, Ah’m fine. Ye dinnae have tae—”
The muscular woman would have none of my explanations, pushing me back a step. “If that wizard’s as bad as you’re saying, I want first crack at him.”
“Nae, lass,” I began but Harry interrupted me.
Tucking his box under his arm, he grabbed Kay’s arm and tried to tug her back. He’d have had better luck moving a boulder. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Kay!”
She eluded his grip and turned her grim eyes towards me and then the broken path ahead. “If the wizard does anything to me, Bigfoot, cut him down.”
That would be the moment when the angel decided to be stupid. He set his box down and pushed ahead of all of us. “The problem with all o’ youze is that you’re mortal an’ can still get killed.”
“So?” Kay insisted, hands on her hips.
The angel glared at her. “So ain’t nobody playin’ mar-turd today. Ima do it myself.”
I reached down to grab the stookie angel. “Dammit, ye dunderheid!”
The wee fellow barely dodged the swipe of me hand but ‘twas enough to escape me. A second later, he was off towards Gwydion’s camp, marching as though he were leading a battalion into battle.
The stookie angel moved faster than I imagined him capable. But all those months of starving had taken off enough blubber to increase his speed.
Harry dropped his box and ran past me other shoulder, trying to catch up to him. “Hold up, Shorty!”
