by LJ Swallow
"Because you insisted." Morgan looks ahead. "They can help with you, but I don’t want them touching my... The box."
I chew on my lip and flick a look to Cillian. He gives a nod. This is about his brother. If he’s caught in something that could threaten the world, I know what the Horsemen’s reaction will be: destroy it.
"But if we’re really stuck?" I suggest.
Morgan strides away.
The mausoleum is partially hidden beneath tall willow trees. The building resembles a tiny church without windows. A cross protrudes from the steepled roof and I scoff at the angel statues. The carved stone figures flank the sealed door—small and cherubic with serene expressions. Nothing like the angels I’ve met. Creatures I don’t want to meet again.
That answers my question over who would bury nephilim.
I accidentally came across an angel weapon a few months ago, and when I touched the handle the thing scorched me using a magic I couldn’t detect.
Overgrown grass spreads from the rough path to this part of the cemetery. The green stops a foot away from the stone doorway. I crouch down to touch and the edges are crisp and brown, as if something prevents anything growing here.
Cillian runs his fingers along the door and pushes them into the gap between the stone and the doorway. He steps back and scratches an eyebrow. “How do we get in?”
I cross my arms. “If this is protected by angel magic, I’m not touching.”
Morgan gestures at Dex. “You can move this stone, surely.”
Dex blows air into his cheeks and stares at the door. Is he nervous of the magic the way I am?
“Yeah. Sure.” He strides forward and digs his fingers into the space between the door and wall. Muscles strain in his shoulders as he pulls. The door scrapes, stone on stone, the sound setting my teeth on edge. Inch by inch, a doorway appears.
A set of stone steps leading into darkness appears. Dex steps back, rubbing his fingertips, and Cillian steps forward. Cillian silently gestures for the torch in my hand, and I pass it over. The beam shines through dust disturbed by the door.
I can’t detect anything emanating from the space, so I head to the stairs. I pull a dagger from inside my jacket.
Morgan steps in front of me. “I’ll go first. If there’s someone waiting down there, I can throw a barrier up.”
“I don’t think there is,” I reply.
Morgan places a hand on my arm and says in a soft voice. “There might be something angel—or someone. I don’t want anything else hurting you.” His eyes implore me to listen, and his genuine concern stuns me enough to nod my head in agreement.
“Maybe I should wait outside.” Dex drops a rucksack he’s carrying onto the floor and I suddenly click why he has the bag with him.
“Are you going to turn into Spot?” I ask. Cillian chokes out a laugh as Dex scowls at me. “I’m not insulting you, it’s just the dog isn’t Dex to me. I like to keep the two separate in my mind, y’know?”
“I’m still Dex,” he mutters. “And I’m a good early warning system if demons come close.”
“Don’t tease him, Syv," says Morgan. "He's helping."
"I'm not teasing." I nod at Dex. "Thank you."
He makes gruff acknowledgement and slinks away behind the mausoleum. I creep down the steps with the other guys, and we enter the dank room. I wrinkle my nose at the mossy, earthy smell as Cillian shines the torch in a circle. We stand close together in the space, almost touching shoulders. The low ceiling adds to the claustrophobic atmosphere.
"Where's the sarcophagus?" I walk to the opposite corner and look from floor to ceiling. "Who told you the bones were here? There's nothing but an empty room."
"Ewan. He sent me a link to the place he found mentioned on the old board messages. This is the right place."
"Fuck!" I throw my hands in the air. "A false trail."
"Calm down, we haven't looked everywhere yet." Morgan stamps on the floor, making his way from slate tile to tile. "There could be an entrance to another chamber. Maybe underneath."
"Good point." Cillian shines the torch from the wall down to the floor. He joins Morgan in stomping on each one.
Nothing happens.
Cillian places a palm on the wall, feeling his way along. Morgan copies, searching in the opposite direction.
I turn to explore the cold wall behind.
Something jolts my arm and I'm flung backwards, landing on my arse. The pain shoots into my limbs, and I cry out as nausea instantly follows.
Angel magic, or something different because this doesn’t burn like the last.
"Syv?" Cillian immediately stops and crouches down. He helps me to my feet and I swallow down the bile rising.
"Look." We don't need Cillian's torch to see what's on the wall. Where I touched, a rune glows, faintly violet. As we stare, more shapes appear. They spread across the walls, in a row appearing one after the other until they create a line circling the room. We stare in silence.
"Do you know what these are?" Cillian asks me.
"Me? No."
"That one looks like your ketchup rune. Cillian. Check your phone."
I bark out a laugh at Morgan's words and the sound echoes. I clamp my hand over my mouth then whisper, "Sorry. Just... ‘ketchup rune’."
"It matches." Cillian pulls at his bottom lip as he stares at the image onscreen. He waves the phone at the walls. "Morgan, you know runes. How do these work?"
He shakes his head. "No clue. I've never seen these shapes before."
Oh great. But there's one person I trust who owns books filled with magic and has deciphered runes before. But if I need to go back to the Collector and ask if he recognises these, that's more time wasted. With a loud huff, I drag out my phone to take pictures.
"Oh, wait." Cillian traces one with his finger then steps to face the centre rune. Nobody speaks as he examines each one again.
A shuffling sound outside alerts me and I look back to the steps. Dex? I'd call his name, but don't want to draw attention.
"There's a pattern." Cillian points from one to the other. "Some of these lines and circles are contained in the shape of the larger one. Maybe we need to touch the matching ones?"
"Ah." Morgan straightens. "Yeah. That's not an uncommon way to break a seal. Problem is, if you pick the wrong shapes, or in the wrong order, you might trigger a spell or a trap."
"Then we choose the right ones," I say.
"From ten runes?" Morgan blinks at me.
"Good odds." I chew my lips as I compare the large central rune with the ones on the right. "This one. The intersecting lines match."
"Touch it," says Morgan.
"No. Didn't you see what happened when I touched the wall before?"
"She's right." Cillian steps forward and places a palm on the rune. The pale glow intensifies and the matching shape in the central symbol illuminates too.
Throwing Morgan a smug smile, I pace along the wall to study others. "Then this one. If you look, the triangle shape is in the bigger rune too."
Cillian places a hand on the triangular rune, and I wait for the same reaction. Instead, the ground beneath our feet trembles. The stones grind and slide from beneath my feet. I quickly side step the open space below and grab Morgan's arm.
Morgan peers into the black hole that appeared below us. "Can you see what's down there? Cillian?"
Chapter Twenty
He crouches down and shines the torch. "A black hole. No steps. And a bloody long way down."
We stand in silence a moment. Not an entrance, but perhaps a permanent death-like exit?
"Syv is right," says Cillian. "The two we touched match. Others do too." He gestures at a rune close to Morgan's head. "Maybe they need touching in a specific order."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter. "How many wrong guesses do we get before the whole floor disappears?"
Silence returns, and Morgan studies the shapes. I shudder as the atmosphere stifles—not from the silence but from magic pervading
the room. "I'll tell Dex what's happening. Check whether he's seen anything outside."
Cillian nods and I run back up the steep steps. I leave the torch with the guys—they need light more than me, and if anybody has followed us, a flashing torch could reveal we're here.
In the silent graveyard, a movement catches my eye. Spot—Dex steps from the side of the mausoleum and pads toward me. He cocks his head. As I explain what's happening, I look back into his orange eyes. The colour matches the shining orange rim found around Dex's human irises. This is weird. I'm talking to a dog who's really a man I am attracted to. No. I do not sleep with shifters. A Syv rule.
He gives a low growl, which I take as him understanding my words, and backs into the shadows. I tip my head, but all I can hear is the rustling leaves around and distant traffic. With one last look around, I head back inside.
Three runes now glow on the wall, but the room buzzes with an energy that sounds like swarming bees. A pain stabs behind my eyes like needles and spreads through my skull. "Can you hear that?" I ask.
"What?" Morgan tenses and looks back to the stairs. "Outside?"
"No. In here." Cillian touches another rune and the buzzing pitch grows, intensifying the pressure in my head. "Fuck, guys!"
I cover my ears with my arms and close my eyes. Maybe I should join Dex? No, this whole situation is about helping me—I need to assist. But I can't focus for the noise. I panic as Morgan places his palm on a new rune and the floor shifts again. Cillian says something, but I can't hear the words. The room sways—in reality or in my head? I place both hands on the wall and swallow down the nausea.
Through my blurry vision, I can see more shapes in the central rune now glow. Five shapes shine on the wall, matching. One shape remains. Morgan touches it.
As he does, air rushes forwards; the stone that the large rune is painted on slides to the side with a deafening sound. I'm pulled forward, towards the opening, but land on my knees. My bones jar and the impact bloody hurts my kneecaps. "Fuck!"
This is insane. I'm useless. My ears continue to ring, and I look up to Cillian, who hesitates in the open doorway.
Steadying myself on my hands and knees, I tip my head to the guys. "Is the skeleton in there?"
Both stare at me and the horrified look on their face unnerves me. Morgan pulls me to my feet. My legs fall from under me as the movement shoots more pain through my legs.
As he half-drags me to the stairs, I protest, "I need to be in the room. To help."
Morgan wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. I grip his shoulders but my legs give way again. The buzzing reaches a pitch that winds around my thoughts and squeezes them into oblivion. I cry out but the words won't come. Morgan says something to me, but I can't hear him or see him through the black spots dancing in front of my eyes.
The room lurches again, but this time because Morgan picks me up. Normal Syv would complain and pull herself to the floor, but this one can't stand. I shift my hands to grip his neck and my head lolls back as he carries me from the room.
Morgan gently lowers me on the hard ground and places a hand on my forehead. "Are you okay?"
I stare back as my vision re-focuses. He leans forward and his mouth moves closer to my face. I catch his woody scent and my pulse quickens, but his mouth moves to the side of my head. Dumbass. Did you seriously think he’d try to kiss you?
His breath tickles my ear and he places a hand on my chest, above my heart. My skin tingles despite the clothes between us. "Your heartbeat is slow."
"I'm fine." I shakily prop myself on my elbows. "My head hurts though."
Morgan sits back on his haunches and his mouth parts. "Your eyes."
My hands go to them. "What? Are they bleeding?"
"No. They're black. Pure black. Man, you look weird."
Heart racing further, I leap to my feet. "Black? Like demon black? What the fuck?" My buzzing head won't stop, and I pull at my jacket sleeve to look down at the black mark, which now spreads halfway along my arm.
Dex appears and prowls forward. I'm still staring at my arm when he lets out a high-pitched whine. He pads a few metres to the right and pauses before looking back. What's he showing us? I join him and blink into the darkness. Light bounces across the graveyard in the distance, heading our way.
"Go back to Cillian." I say. "Help him. You don't know what might happen next down there."
"I should wait."
Dex's whine becomes a growl and lights flash closer.
"Shit. Torchlight." Morgan tenses, and low voices join the light as the people move closer. The beam sweeps side to side and bounces off closer gravestones. "I bet they're not here to help."
"We have to face them. I can't go back in the crypt and stay upright." I indicate the stairs. "But we should tell Cillian."
Morgan shakes his head. "No. Stay here and maybe they won't know he's with us."
He extends a hand towards the top of the stairs, and the space between us and the mausoleum takes on a mirage-like appearance, the mausoleum behind shimmering in and out of view.
A Morgan barrier.
"Cillian will be okay. We can take whoever this is between the three of us."
My heart thumps. I bloody hope so. "Are my eyes still... weird?"
"Yeah. Do you feel any different?"
I drag Morgan into the dark patch beneath the willow tree and hiss for Dex to follow. We kneel down and I curl my hand around the dagger. "I feel like I don't want to die yet."
Morgan chuckles. "Always a good plan."
Dex crouches and his glowing eyes worry me—he's easy to notice in the gloom. My pulse hikes in trepidation. The last demons the four of us encountered weren't a walk in the park. We need to be prepared for something unknown and powerful.
Our time to prepare shortens to seconds as one of the party flash a light into our hiding place. I squint as the beam hits my eyes and my momentary blindness stops me moving as quickly as Dex and Morgan.
A snarl and thud.
Crackling magic and shouting.
I force my eyes open and duck behind the wide trunk. The black affecting my vision has switched to the blinding from torchlight. I cautiously peek from behind. A man, pinned down by Dex's hulking frame, flails his arms. Dex bares his frightening teeth and the saliva drips onto the guy's face. He howls out and rubs his eyes, but Dex clamps his teeth around the guy's hand who drops the dagger to the floor with a cry.
Buoyed by Dex's success, I flick my attention to Morgan.
Then my blood cools.
Morgan's held in place by a force as invisible as his barrier, arms pinned to his side. Unable to cast.
Shit.
I count our numbers. Three guys—demons maybe. Three of us. One turns and steps toward my hiding place, and I twist my head for somewhere new to hide. Taller gravestones nearby offer cover, and I duck behind one. I dive my hand into my boot for my dagger, and stand, readying myself to confront the three guys.
Something hits my neck and tightens from behind. I claw at the rope I imagine is there, but touch nothing. My head snaps back as the invisible bond pulls, and I stagger backwards before I choke completely. Hot, heavy breath hits my neck as an arm tightens around my waist. Fingers crush my wrist and I drop the dagger.
I assess the attacker’s height and strength before my automatic reaction kicks in. I slam my head backwards and jab my elbow into his solar plexus. The grip around my waist loosens but the magic grip on my neck remains. My head is yanked back again, like a dog on a lead being pulled back to its master. I trip over a broken gravestone and land hard on my back.
Catching the breath slammed from my lungs, I look upwards. I am on a fucking lead. A white, conjured one that not only strangles me but hurts like hell, as the stinging from where the magic touches my skin adds to the pain from my crushing windpipe. A man looks down at me, amusement pulling his mouth into a sardonic smile. He's familiar—the guy from the warehouse. This time, he's dressed in black clothes and gloves. In the moonlight
, his face appears paler against his dark hair.
He kneels on the floor and pulls his magic rope tighter.
"You know nothing cures a death mark, right?"
Grappling at the magic bond burns my fingers, but I'm not giving up yet. I kick out, foot colliding with his chest, but the guy remains unmoved. He winds the magic around his slender fingers and draws my face closer. Eyes with blackened pupils stare into mine, an abyss growing as my vision darkens.
I stretch out a hand, patting the patchy grass. Where's my weapon? All I touch are stones and sticks, and I can't twist my head to look for it.
"Someone needs you, sweetheart." I choke as the man tugs on the rope and drags me away from the mausoleum. The uneven ground scrapes against my back, through my thin jacket. I attempt to dig my heels in to slow us down, but just leave a long groove in the ground. The more I resist, the tighter the rope pulls around my neck.
The breeze picks up, moving leaves into the air. The wind whips my hair, growing enough to pick up small stones and dirt from the ground. My gasping mouth fills with debris and I choke harder. Fucking great. Grit hits my eyeballs, stinging, and I squeeze them shut. I cover my face with both hands as I'm pelted with debris.
The wind sounds in my ears as if I'm on an exposed hill, drowning out sound. The man's grip suddenly drops and the bond loosens. I choke for breath and attempt to open my eyes, but the dirt and rocks stop me. My body lifts as I'm torn from the ground by the tornado-like strength and I force my eyes open in shock.
One thought hits me as hard as the tree trunk hits my face.
Cillian. Again.
Chapter Twenty-One
My stomach lurches as I'm pulled back from the darkness towards consciousness. I cry out in panic, grasping around me for something to hold on to. My fingers grip a jacket.
The demon guys won. They have me.
I flail my arms and my hands connect with a face, my fingers scraping skin and scruff.
"Fuck, Syv, trim your nails." Morgan's face appears as my vision sharpens, and four red lines run down his cheek.
