Prison of Horrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 6)

by Sonya Bateman

  But the man was more afraid of Winifred than the demon.

  “Where does this come out?” I said after we’d been walking for ten minutes or so.

  Winifred glanced back briefly. “At the ocean side of the cliffs, just beneath the lighthouse,” she said. “There’s a path up to the top. We can walk down from there.”

  “Okay, so we get back to the town. The fake one,” I said. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.” She almost sounded cheerful.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you knew what all this was.”

  “I do,” she said. “Malphas is a demon. The witches of this town imprisoned him here three hundred years ago, and then closed the gate. So that’s what we’re going to do now.”

  “Oh. Well, then. I guess there’s no problem,” I said. “Except how are we going to do that?”

  She tossed me a smile. “That’s the part I don’t know. I was hoping you did.”

  “Yeah, I don’t. It’s not like I fight demons all the time, you know.”

  “Hey, folks?” Quentin called from the back. “I don’t know about demons. Or witches, for that matter,” he said. “But I’m thinking the first thing we should do is get back to town.”

  “Oh, that.” Winifred cleared her throat. “I suppose we just walk through the gate.”

  “Because there won’t be evil copies waiting on the other side,” I said. “Right?”

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of them, dear.”

  “Uh-huh.” For some reason, that failed to make me not worry.

  For a while, our progress was silent. I made out a lighter shade of black, far ahead, and guessed that was the other end of the tunnel. The closer we got, the more red that smudge of pale dark appeared — a wedge of bloody sky. “What is this place, anyway?”

  I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until Winifred answered. “It’s another realm, a space outside the Earth,” she said. “Like your Arcadia.”

  “Wait. You know about Arcadia?”

  “Of course I do. I’m a witch,” she said. As if that explained everything.

  “I knew it.”

  The blunt statement came from Pastor Lennox. Winifred looked back at him and shook her head sadly. “You always did know it, Victor,” she said. “I can’t begin to understand why you’re so surprised now.”

  “Well, you’d never admit it!” His brief flash of emotion faded quickly, and he went back to staring at his feet. “It’s just not proper,” he muttered. “All this running around naked in the moonlight.”

  Winifred smiled warmly, though the pastor failed to see it. “Remind me to give you a few books I’d like you to read when this is over, Pastor Lennox. A little knowledge goes a long way, you know.”

  He grumbled something that might have been an acknowledgment.

  “Anyway,” I said. “This is, what, the demon realm?”

  “Not exactly. It’s an … in-between. I suppose you might call it the shadow of hell.”

  “So there’s a hell.”

  “Yes, but it’s not what you think. And we don’t have to worry about that right now,” Winifred said. “Here’s what you do need to know. This is a pocket of the shadow, a space that extends only to the borders of Lightning Cove. On both sides of the gate.”

  I frowned. “And that means what?”

  “First, it means that red lightning storm you probably noticed on the way here? In this realm, there’s nothing beyond that. Only the town exists.” She paused and switched the torch she carried to her other hand. “Second, it means Malphas can’t leave Lightning Cove on the other side of the gate. Yet.”

  Okay, so good news and bad news. Good news — he was stuck in the town, so he couldn’t destroy the world, or whatever demons wanted to do. Bad news… “I take it there’s a way he could leave town,” I said. “And he’s trying to do that.”

  “Yes. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “The two original witches created a barrier spell around Lightning Cove that Malphas can’t pass. One of them was my ancestor, Hester Davenport. And because her magic was involved, I’m able to undo the barrier.” She made an angry sound. “I won’t, of course. I suppose if he could, he’d copy me and order my copy to do it. But the Davenport family has special protection through the original deal. We can’t be copied.”

  My spine crawled as I understood the implications. “So that’s why Nicholas and Nova are still alive and in town,” I said. “He can’t copy them, but he needs them.”

  “Exactly. Part of the deal demanded my family’s loyalty … and poor Nova believes she must adhere to the deal. That’s why she’s helping him. Demons can be extraordinarily convincing.” She shivered hard enough to make the torch spark. “More importantly, he’s controlling them — hurting them — to force me to agree. But he won’t stop with them. He’ll have the entire town before long, if he doesn’t already.”

  “Are you saying that demon thing is going to torture everyone?” Quentin said hoarsely. “My family?”

  “And mine. My son, my daughter,” the pastor whispered. “Lord Jesus. We have to stop that monster.”

  “We will.” Fae instincts or not, I wouldn’t let these people — or their loved ones — get murdered by a demon. Especially one that was using my body. “All right,” I said. “Winifred, you know what the original witches did, but not how they did it. Right?”

  “I do,” she said. “Unfortunately, the only person who knows how everything happened back then is dead.”

  “And that person is?”

  “Sybil. The other witch.”

  “Okay, no problem,” I said. “We’ll just ask Sybil.”

  Winifred threw me a strange look. “Did you hear the part about her being dead?”

  “Yep.” I grinned at her. “But I’m the DeathSpeaker. You said it yourself, remember? It’s not just a name … it’s a job.”

  “Well, then. Let’s ask Sybil.” She looked slightly relieved. “We’re headed for her now, actually.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes.” Winifred’s expression grew somber. “She’s in the lighthouse.”

  CHAPTER 21

  For a treacherous path up a rocky oceanside cliff, it wasn’t that bad. About three feet in width, flat and well-worn stone that wasn’t quite smooth enough to be slippery, the path was a slightly inclined straight shot to the top, where actual ground and the lighthouse waited.

  The view was a different story.

  There wasn’t much ocean between the shore and the red lightning-fed plasma wall that enclosed this realm. The water, like the sky, was red. It looked like a vast pool of blood. Without the moon to cause a tide, and without even the suggestion of wind, the surface was eerily calm — except where the water met the shore. There, it frothed and seethed like it was boiling.

  I was relieved to reach the top and look away from all that.

  We all paused by mutual unspoken consent to catch our breath, and I looked toward the lighthouse that stood just a few yards away. Like the church, it was made of stone. But the slender tower had once been white. The upper part of it still was, but the color gradually darkened to black at the base. Almost like a tooth slowly rotting from the roots.

  There were cracks in the outer surface. Large sections of the walls had broken away and shattered on the ground. Not the safest-looking structure I’d seen.

  “So, there’s a dead body in there somewhere,” I said. From the looks of the place, I had no trouble believing it.

  Winifred nodded. “You see the light?”

  Of course I did. That bright green, pulsing beam was impossible to miss. “You mean the searchlight?”

  “It’s not a searchlight,” she said. “It’s demon fire. That’s where you’ll find Sybil.”

  I stared at her. “In a fire,” I said slowly.

  “Yes. Her body is there, burning. Still.” She lifted her gaze to the top of the tower. “As I said, I’m not sure what happened back then. I do know that Sybil somehow ended
up on this side of the gate when it closed … and that Malphas despised her.”

  For a moment I watched the sickly light revolve in its continual slow sweep, and tried not to imagine burning for three hundred years. At least, mercifully, she was dead. But to turn her into some twisted version of a human torch and stick her in a lighthouse forever — well, that was pretty damned evil.

  I was starting to understand why Frost followed his commands, whichever Frost she was. And why she’d insisted I would break. Maybe I would have, eventually.

  But now I’d stop him. Or I’d die trying.

  “All right,” I said. “How do I get up there?”

  Winifred smirked. “You might try taking the stairs.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that could work.”

  The four of us walked to the lighthouse together. The plan was for them to stay inside on the ground floor, hopefully out of sight, since there was a good chance the copies had realized we’d sprung ourselves out of prison by now. I’d climb the lighthouse, ask Sybil how to defeat the demon, and then we’d make our way to the dark side of the church.

  Winifred would have to handle getting us through the gate from there.

  Inside the lighthouse, stone stairs spiraled up the inner wall to the tower deck. By some miracle, none of them had been too damaged. I had to pick my way over a few short stretches of rubble and avoid looking through any of the ominous holes in the walls.

  When I reached the top, I saw this wasn’t going to be easy.

  The stairs ended at a small platform beneath a trapdoor. I boosted through, and had to shield my eyes from the intense green light filling the area as I heaved onto the wooden floor. My vision adjusted reluctantly, and I made out what should’ve been the original light source in the center of the room, completely destroyed.

  In its place was a human skeleton engulfed in a massive ball of green fire, floating and revolving in mid-air.

  There was no way I could touch her, even if I could survive getting to her. It might have been green and demonic, but it was still real fire. I felt the heat from here. And I couldn’t project a glamour, because my spark would only work inside me.

  I’d have to hope that reaching out still worked.

  I closed my eyes, preparing to project my reach the way I’d learned in Arcadia. But before I could start, there was a slight tug at the back of my skull.

  Hello, Gideon.

  That voice. Not DeathSpeaker, like they all called me at first. She knew my name. And her voice was the one I heard when I’d passed out by the church.

  My mother’s voice.

  I’m glad you came, the voice went on. My name is Sybil Hadley.

  Hadley?

  This was the first time I’d ever talked to a dead person and been completely speechless. I knew the ability worked both ways and the dead could call out to me. It didn’t happen often. Still, I was usually prepared enough to continue the conversation.

  Not now. I couldn’t speak at all. My mind filled abruptly with a clear image — a white headstone in a small church graveyard. Three words written on it.

  JESSAMYN ROSE HADLEY

  Yes, that’s right, the voice said. My great-great granddaughter. Your mother.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Hold on,” I finally said. “Great-great granddaughter?”

  Well, there may be a few more greats in there. I wanted to simplify things.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I sat down hard. If there was a name for what I was feeling, I didn’t know it. Basically, all I knew about my mother was her name, what she looked and sounded like, and that she loved me — and I hadn’t even found that much out until a little over a year ago. Long after she’d died. Finding a connection to her here, like this, was overwhelming. “So … my mother was a witch?”

  The voice that wasn’t exactly my mother laughed, but it was a warm laugh. I would call her magically inclined, she said. There have been no practicing witches in our family for generations, but the potential has always been there.

  Our family. If that wasn’t the strangest thing a dead person had ever said to me. “How did this happen?” I said. “I mean …. ”

  Apparently Sybil knew what I meant, because she answered before I could figure out how to clarify. My daughter, June. She left Lightning Cove after Malphas was defeated, and she never looked back. It wasn’t a welcoming atmosphere for witches.

  Damn. With the shock of all this, I’d almost forgotten why I came up here in the first place. My head was already starting to throb with the effort of holding her, and I couldn’t relieve the pressure without access to my magic. “I need to know how you did that,” I said. “Will you tell me?”

  Of course. She paused, and I felt a sense of intrigue. That is an interesting ability you have. Can you compel the living to answer as well?

  “Er. Pretty sure I can’t,” I said. “I mean, I’m the DeathSpeaker. Not the Living Speaker.”

  I see. In that case, to defeat the demon you’ll need a witch, a man of God, a massive diversion, and a willing sacrifice.

  “Is that all?” I murmured.

  Yes.

  I frowned. “It was a rhetorical question.”

  You compelled me.

  “Oh, right. Sorry. It comes with the package.” I closed my eyes for a minute. This sounded pretty damned hopeless. I thought we had the components, but the witch was just as hunted as I was, the man of God was in semi-shock from sitting in a cell next to his dead wife, and a diversion could drain our limited collective resources, depending on how massive it had to be.

  Plus, the willing sacrifice part really sucked.

  I drew a breath and focused on Sybil. “Okay, I need to know exactly what to do with these things, in what order. Please.”

  She told me.

  By the time she finished, my head felt like pulverized meat and my nose was gushing blood. I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. At least I understood what had to be done — but I didn’t like it. At all. “So you were the willing sacrifice,” I said. “That’s why you got stuck over here.”

  Yes, I was. And it was worth it … though I can’t say being in this realm is the best sort of afterlife to have.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t think so.” I wanted to help her. She was family — something I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around — and more than that, she didn’t deserve to stay here burning for all eternity. I couldn’t take an actual piece of her with me, since there was no way I’d be able to reach into that fire. But there might be another way. “Sybil. That was you speaking to me earlier, when I passed out. Right?”

  Yes, she said slowly. Why?

  “Because I think I can get you out of here. Well, your soul, anyway. If you can do that one more time.” I told her how.

  I sensed her smiling. Best news I’ve heard in three hundred years, she said. If we can manage it, I would be grateful.

  “I’ll do it. But for now, I have to get going.” Standing sent a fresh spike of pain through my head, and I knew I was about to lose the connection. “Thank you for everything,” I said. “The next time I talk to my mother, I’ll tell her about you.” If I had a next time.

  I’m honored to have met you, Sybil said. Goodbye, Gideon.

  “Me too. See you soon.”

  She left my head without any effort on my part.

  I took a minute to recover before I headed back down the lighthouse stairs. There was a lot to do, and I had no idea how much time we’d have to accomplish everything. It depended on how long Winifred could resist everything Malphas was doing to convince her to unmake the barrier spell, if we even made it through the gate to try.

  And now I had to tell the people waiting for me that in order to defeat the demon, someone had to die.

  CHAPTER 23

  Winifred, Quentin, and Pastor Lennox were still waiting on the ground floor of the lighthouse, but they looked extremely unhappy. Especially the pastor. Before I could ask about whatever had obviously gone wrong while I was up there, Winifred so
rt of smiled and walked toward me. “”Do you know what we need to do?” she said.

  “Yes.” Unfortunately, step one was breaking the news that at least one of us wasn’t getting out of this alive. “I—”

  “Good to hear. You can tell us about it after we’ve crossed the gate,” she said. “That’s all we need to know for now.”

  I started to protest. Better to know what we faced, so we could make the right call when it was time to take action. But then I looked at the others, the hopeless misery on their faces, and knew that was the Fae in me talking. If I told them now, they’d give up.

  I’d go with Jiminy Cricket’s plan.

  “You mean if we cross the gate.” Quentin spoke in the general direction of the floor. “Aren’t you going to tell him what you saw?”

  I frowned at Winifred. “You saw something?”

  “Well, yes. In a manner of speaking,” she said. “What it boils down to is that we can’t go down the hill to reach the church. We’ll have to go back through the tunnel, and the prison.”

  No wonder they were so unhappy. “Why not?”

  “Because this realm, this copy of Lightning Cove, is incomplete.” She gestured outside, toward the land behind the lighthouse. “The border storm cuts through the cliffs before they reach lower ground. However, there is good news. All the servants of Malphas have left the prison to search for us, and they won’t look here. They have no idea that the tunnel exists.”

  “Well, I guess that’s good news,” I said without conviction. Then it occurred to me that she shouldn’t have been able to find all that out. “How do you know? Did you leave the lighthouse while I was up there?”

  “Like I said … in a manner of speaking.” She shrugged. “I scryed the area.”

  That kind of pissed me off. “You can use magic here?” I said. “You could’ve mentioned that. I’ve been doing all the work, and what I have is going to run out.”

  Winifred gave me a stern look. “My power is very limited here, young man,” she said. “Just as yours is tied to the moon, mine is tied to the earth. I was only able to scry a bit because the gate is fully open. And even that took a lot of effort.”