Prison of Horrors (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 6)

by Sonya Bateman

  “I understand.” I spoke as gently as I could. “Give me the candlestick, Pastor.”

  Shivering, he held it out.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Now, turn away. Please.”

  He did.

  I knelt beside the man on the ground. It didn’t take much to finish the job.

  After a moment, I released a long breath and stood. “All right. We’d better get through this gate now, before they start to wonder where all these people are,” I said. “And just for the record, I won’t hurt any of you.”

  I figured it’d be a while before they’d believe it. But just then, I felt a hand on my arm — and looked up into Frost’s tentative smile. “I know you won’t,” she said. “And I know how hard this was for you, so … thanks. We’d all be dead right now without you.”

  “Yeah. You’re welcome.” I managed a small smirk. “Can we go? Because I could really use a shower.”

  The answering nervous laughter was better than nothing. I felt some of the tension ease from the air, and I could breathe again.

  As long as I didn’t think about how many more I’d have to kill before this was over.

  CHAPTER 29

  We had to put the chains on again before we went around the back of the church. Still needed to get past the guards on the other side of the gate, and killing them would draw way too much attention. But when we entered the sanctuary, two of them had crossed over to inspect the landslide at the front entrance.

  “Get away from there,” Frost shouted before I could think of anything to do. Apparently, she had a plan in mind. “It’s not stable.”

  The two men looked back. “What happened?” one of them said as they started down the center aisle.

  “This asshole happened.” She jerked her head at me. Of course. I wasn’t sure I liked being the only believable excuse for destroying things around here. “He tried to escape. Again. But he won’t cause any more trouble.”

  The guards reached the platform, and the one who’d spoken looked me over with a nasty grin. “I guess he won’t,” he said. “Damn, sweetheart. What’d you do to him?”

  “It’s Agent Frost.” Her cold tone made the man flinch. “And I’m just getting started with him. Do you want to be next?”

  He held both hands up. “Hey, I’m only trying to be friendly.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  For now, I guessed being filthy and covered in blood was a good thing. At least it’d probably get us through the gate. And speaking of crossing over, I had a passenger to bring with me.

  I closed my eyes and focused on projecting myself across the shadow town toward the cliffs, as far and fast as I could. “Sybil,” I whispered on a scant breath. “You there? It’s time.”

  The response was slow, but it came. I’m here.

  “Okay. Hold on.”

  I was only peripherally aware of Frost talking to the guard, and the other one joining in to trade words with Quentin. I’d never pushed out so far before — and with nothing visual to rely on, I was basically feeling around blindly with the ghosts of my hands, or whatever this was. But I could feel, in a detached way. I felt the rocky ground, the cold and jagged stone of the cliffs, the crumbling walls of the lighthouse.

  The heat of the fire that engulfed Sybil’s remains.

  I plunged in and bit down on a scream. The pain was a blinding flash in my head, and I could’ve sworn I smelled burning flesh. Somehow I managed to grab what I hoped was Sybil and yank everything back in a dizzying blur of sensation.

  When it slammed into me, I stumbled and gasped aloud. Hot blood dripped from my nose. And a voice in my head said, I think you did it.

  “Mmph,” I said by way of acknowledgment, aware that everyone was staring at me. I probably should’ve warned them I planned to do this. I had no idea what happened around me in the last few minutes, but at least no one was dead.

  Frost made the concern in her eyes disappear and addressed the guards. “We need to move, before he can’t walk any more. I’m not dragging his ass,” she said. “You two get back to your post. I’ll tell Malphas what happened here when I bring them to him.”

  Okay, so at least that was settled. I hoped.

  I decided to wait until we weren’t surrounded by hostiles to find out what else I’d missed.

  CHAPTER 30

  The captured-prisoners story held up long enough to make it to Frost’s car, but I didn’t exactly feel safe. Someone was going to find all those bodies on the other side. Probably sooner than later.

  I had no idea what demons could do, but I figured locating a handful of people who’d slaughtered his minions was well within his abilities.

  It was night on this side, with a three-quarter moon high above that I could feel moving through me already. My body just about wept with relief. I claimed shotgun and collapsed in the passenger seat, trying to soak up as much moonlight as possible. I made sure the moonstone was positioned to catch some rays, too.

  Had a feeling I’d need it.

  Once everyone was in and Frost started the car, she sent me a grave look. “What did you do back there?”

  I closed my eyes. “Search and rescue,” I muttered. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll explain. Oh … and ignore anything I say for a few, okay?” My head was already throbbing with the pressure of Sybil’s soul.

  “All right.” Frost glanced sideways at me, then put the car in gear and headed out. Away from the direction of the town square.

  “So, we’re through,” I said under my breath. “I’ll just let you go now, and you should be fine. No more fire.”

  Thank you, Gideon. I sensed her relief, like a weight being lifted. Your mother would have been proud of you. I certainly am.

  “Well, we haven’t won yet.”

  You will. I know it.

  “Yeah.” I wouldn’t exactly call it winning, if this all went down the way I was pretty sure it had to. But hell, saving the world wasn’t a bad way to go out. “You ready?”

  I am. And Gideon … keep in mind that when you face Malphas, you’ll have something we didn’t have.

  “The moonstone. I figured that out.”

  Yes, but not only that, she said. You have Fae magic. And the Fae are accomplished deceivers.

  Something stirred in the back of my mind, the glimmer of an idea. It felt like hope. “Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure, but maybe there was another way. One I could survive. “I’ll remember that.”

  No goodbyes were needed. I let go, and she slipped away to freedom.

  When I opened my eyes, we were driving past a few houses on one side and a field on the other. I hadn’t been to this part of the town before. “Where are we?” I said. “By the way, you can pay attention to me now. If you want.”

  Frost started and smiled a little. “It was kind of impossible not to listen,” she said. “Is Winifred right? Were you talking to, uh…”

  “Sybil,” Winifred said from the back seat. She’d taken the middle between Quentin and Pastor Lennox, and now she leaned forward a bit. “That was her, wasn’t it? Can you speak to the dead any time?”

  “Um. Yes it was her, and no, not exactly,” I said. “Basically, I smuggled her soul out of the lighthouse and set it free.”

  “Of course,” Winifred said, not sounding convinced. “As one does.”

  “What about Renee?”

  I winced at the pained accusation in the pastor’s voice. At least I had the presence of mind not to say who’s Renee? “This was different,” I said slowly. “Sybil was stuck there. Like, on-fire-forever stuck. She couldn’t get out of the shadow.”

  “My wife’s body is still there, in that place,” Pastor Lennox said, his voice rising in pitch. “What if her soul can’t get out? I don’t claim to understand any of this, but you saved your evil friend’s soul, and that witch, from what you seem to be suggesting is eternal damnation. So what about my wife?”

  “Victor, you’ve got to calm down,” Quentin said. “I’m sure Renee is—”<
br />
  “Stay out of this. Your wife is still alive. They didn’t take her.”

  “All right. Stop.” I really didn’t want to let that evil friend comment slide, but I’d have to chalk it up to his grief for now. We needed him. “I can guarantee that your wife isn’t trapped there. And again, Frost was a different story.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his eyes narrow. “How do you know?” he said.

  “Because I’m the DeathSpeaker.”

  I felt terrible throwing that out there. I didn’t actually know whether his wife’s soul was safe … I was only mostly sure. Maybe I could’ve proved it, but it’d be a real bitch trying to reach all the way back through the gate and across the shadow town to her body — this time without any fiery pain to guide me.

  Pastor Lennox slumped back, his emotions spent. “All right,” he said hoarsely. “I believe you.”

  “Thanks.” Of course, now I felt even worse. “Listen, I really think we can get through this,” I said. “We just need a few minutes to regroup, and—”

  “Stop! We can’t go this way.”

  Frost slammed the brakes in response to Winifred’s warning shout. “What happened?”

  “They’re out there. His minions,” she said, staring through the windshield. “It’s much easier for me to scry now. I’ve been to the borders, seen the roads. They’ve destroyed the bridge on the main road and posted guards.” She shook her head slowly. “No one can leave this town, unless Malphas allows it. We can’t get to the woods.”

  Great. So much for that breather. “We have to go somewhere,” I said. “There’s no way we’re beating him unless I get this damned hex charm off, and we figure out how to get rid of the rest of the copies. So where can we go?”

  “Well, Victor’s place is next to the church, but mine isn’t far from here,” Quentin said. “It’s probably safe.”

  Probably wasn’t good enough at the moment. But before I could say that out loud, Frost suddenly put the car in reverse, pulled a U-turn and headed back the way we’d come. “I know where we’re going,” she said. “The one place they’ll never look for us, even if they figure out we’re gone.”

  “Where’s that?”

  A muscle clenched in her jaw. “The prison,” she said. “The real one.”

  CHAPTER 31

  I couldn’t say it was good to be back.

  We were inside the old prison, just beyond the wooden doors built into the cavern. It was far enough. No one wanted to check out the torture room or the cell blocks, even knowing there were no dead bodies in this one. Frost had parked the car behind a cluster of scraggly bushes near the cliffs — there was no way to completely camouflage it, but it wasn’t likely anyone would come far enough out here to see it.

  Just like the shadow prison, this one didn’t come with electricity. Quentin had managed to get a few of the old torches going with a book of matches he had in a pocket. Frost brought in three bottles of water she’d had in the car, and we’d already passed them around and polished them off.

  I guessed food and a shower would have to wait until we finished this. Unless we had to do it exactly the way they had the first time, in which case I wouldn’t need things like food or showers.

  Everyone had pretty much collapsed somewhere on the ground. I hauled myself straighter and said, “Okay, Winifred. Any idea how I can get this thing off my chest?”

  “Huh.” She looked at me, then stood and walked over. “Well, it’s a powerful hex,” she said. “I can break it, but I’ll need something.”

  “Your magic wand?”

  “My what … oh.” She laughed. “That silly twig Nova uses. Don’t tell her I said that,” she said. “A good wand does have its place in a witch’s arsenal, but they’re not required. Using them for basic spells is like having training wheels. I don’t need one.”

  Christ. If those were basic spells Nova was throwing with her wand, I’d hate to see the advanced ones. “So what do you need, then?”

  She smiled. “Just a bit of salt.”

  “Salt,” I said. “Well. I doubt there’s a three-hundred-year-old cafeteria in this place.”

  “So do I. Fortunately, there’s a whole ocean full of salt right outside.”

  I couldn’t help grimacing. I remembered exactly what salt water felt like on this burn. But if it was the only way to get the medallion off, I’d take it. “All right,” I said. “Who wants to go fetch some ocean?”

  “You and I will.” There was a strange look in Winifred’s eyes. “Take a stroll with me, Gideon. If I’m not mistaken, you could use the fresh air and moonlight.”

  She wasn’t mistaken.

  When I started to get up, it was with difficulty. Frost came over to help. She steadied me with an arm around my waist, and when I was more or less standing she said, “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll live,” I said. “How are you holding up?”

  “Besides remembering two very different weeks happening at the same time, and … everything else? I guess I’ll live, too.” She gave an unhappy laugh. “If I was you, I’d hate me right now. I mean, ‘get your hands off me, I will destroy your life’ levels of hate.”

  “Good thing you’re not me, then.” I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “Calla. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  She frowned. “What now?”

  Someone has to die, and it’s probably me.

  Before I could think of a less shitty way to say that, Winifred cleared her throat. “It can wait until we get back,” she said. “Oh, and we’ll need one more thing. A good, sharp knife.”

  That didn’t sound pleasant. “What’s the knife for?”

  “My magic can undo hexes,” she said. “Not fire. Unfortunately, you’ll have to cut the medallion free.”

  Damn. I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Frost shivered against me. “Are you sure he has to do that? He’s been through enough.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll heal.” Eventually, and it’d hurt like hell. Still better than leaving the thing where it was. “I have a blade in the car, but it’s — er, enchanted. To cause more damage. I’d rather not use that.”

  Frost sighed and pulled a jackknife from her back pocket. “Be careful out there. Please,” she said. “I can’t lose you.”

  I hoped the dismay didn’t show on my face. “I will be. The rest of you try to relax while you can,” I said. “We’re not out of this yet.”

  As I followed Winifred through the doors, I knew we’d have to be soon.

  Time was not on our side.

  CHAPTER 32

  The cold, clear, late March night smelled fresh and clean. Especially here in the open air, with green spring blooms and the tang of the ocean carried on a faint breeze. It was refreshing and invigorating after a long stint in the stale, washed-out shadow of Hell.

  And it really brought out the stench of filth and blood still clinging to me.

  Winifred brought us to one of the few places along the shore that wasn’t strewn with rocks, and we stood at the edge of the tide line where the surf couldn’t quite reach. I could tell she had something to say, so I waited.

  She looked out across the whitecaps flashing in the moonlight. “You know, Gideon. Those people you—”

  “They weren’t people.” I failed to keep the bitter edge from my tone. It was hard to see them as something else, but I couldn’t let them weigh on my conscience. Not like the acolytes I had to kill when we fought Zee, who were brainwashed people, or the pseudo-soldiers I’d mindlessly slaughtered the first time I went full Fae, who were just following orders. “I know they have to die.”

  “Yes. I can see that.” Winifred cocked her head slightly. “Why don’t you go ahead and wash up a little?” she said. “Two or three more minutes isn’t going to matter.”

  “What, in the ocean? In March?” I pulled a half-smile. “Good thing I probably can’t die of pneumonia.”

  I figured she recognized the sarcasm c
overing up my relief.

  Soaking wet and freezing was better than my current state. I waded in until the surf swirled around my knees, and then splashed water everywhere I could reach. When a good-sized wave crested a few feet ahead, I crouched and ducked my head in the foaming backwash. I came up gasping, with chattering teeth and a fierce renewed burning in my chest. But I felt better. Clear.

  I sloshed out of the surf and listened to my shoes squishing when I hit the sand. “Well, that was fun,” I said, trying not to cross my arms to combat the shivers. It would only make my chest hurt more. “Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t say it.”

  Winifred smiled. “I know.”

  “Hey, you never answered me before,” I said. “Are you psychic?”

  “I wouldn’t call it psychic, exactly. I have … a heightened sense of empathy. Most witches do.” She nodded at the medallion. “You can take that off now.”

  I frowned. “I thought you had to break the hex.”

  “It’s done. You already purified it with salt.”

  “Er, but you didn’t do anything. Isn’t there some spell you have to say?”

  She laughed. “When you’ve been practicing magic as long as I have, in a town like this, you learn to do it with your mouth shut,” she said. Her features sobered as she added, “I am sorry about the knife, though. If there were any other way…”

  “Not a problem. Like I said, I’ll heal.” I fished the knife from my pocket, opened the blade. “But, um, maybe don’t watch this,” I said. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”

  “All right,” she said, and turned away.

  I did it fast, wishing I had something to bite down on. It was just as excruciating as I expected. At least I was handier with a blade than I was with a gun, but even knowing where to cut and pry, fresh blood soaked my torn shirt and sluiced down my stomach by the time I finished.

  The instant the medallion came free, I felt like I could finally breathe.