by S E Holmes
course I was scared, but without successful facial identification, there was no way it would open. And if our caller was Seth, hadn’t he actively defied the Crone? Maybe he was on our side.
“Why don’t we just see who it is and ask what they want?” I panted in between the blasts of the siren.
As we rounded on the lift, Smith shot me a dark look that implied he wouldn’t dignify such lunacy with a response. Still, we really had no idea exactly who Seth was or the extent of his power. Smithy gripped my wrist in one hand. With the other, he jabbed the brass-plated button repeatedly, using far more force than required. The lift began its lethargic ascent with a moan.
“We should take the stairs,” Smith yelled over the racket. His cheeks were flushed with stress.
A more crucial task leaped to mind. “We need that diary.” I refused to leave it abandoned on the kitchen table. “Bea said it was important.”
Now his expression was murderous. “Bear,” he warned, tightening his hold on my wrist and pounding the button with added venom. “Come on!” he yelled in frustration at the tardy lift.
An experimental tug of my arm was met with brute resistance. “What difference does one more minute make? He can’t get in!”
“You don’t get it, do you? Our enemies shouldn’t even know we’re here! That could be a horde of Anathema knocking at the door.”
I began a concerted effort to liberate my anchored wrist, squirming and pulling. “We need that diary!”
“It can wait, Winsome!”
Above the incessant alarm, Smith sounded like an irate father. The elevator arrived, doors finally lumbering apart. He huffed relief and tried to hustle me inside. One look at the cramped box I’d managed to avoid for six years, its walls shrinking, sent my claustrophobia into overdrive. As he stepped within, I gave a desperate jerk to extract my arm from his clench, stumbling rearward. The siren abruptly stopped, the haunting melody of Fortescue’s ‘Danse Macabre’ floating down through the foyer hall.
“Packed in our brains incestuous as worms
Our demons celebrate in drunken gangs …”
My eyes went wide. “Oh, no.”
Fear animated Smithy’s face, his arm reaching for me in slow motion. The lift doors promptly slammed, locking my saviour behind a solid wooden barrier.
“No!” I heard him roar, unleashing a barrage of futile kicks against the doors.
“Scorpions, buzzards, snakes … this paradise,”
“He can’t get in, he can’t get in!”
I chanted over the rising clamour of violins, variously banging on the stubborn lift doors and jimmying my fingers into the tight gap of the central seal. The lights sputtered out, darkness enhancing the off-kilter creepy music.
“Of filthy beasts that screech, howl, grovel, grunt—”
“Smithy!” I screamed, as that familiar smooth voice caressed my mind with its toxic message.
“In this menagerie of mankind’s vice …”
“Smithy, Smithy! Please!” I cried, my insides contorting with terror.
Smithy swore furiously on the other side. If I had just listened to him! I berated myself for being so idiotic, wishing he’d heeded my advice and collected one of Fortescue’s axes instead of looking for guns. This was punishment for my oppositional behaviour and I deserved it. Vegas didn’t: he’d been trying to protect me and I’d made it difficult. If I got the chance, I’d never stop telling him how sorry I was. He could expect undying obedience from this point forward.
“It is time we met Keeper. Do not make me wait.” Seth’s commanding voice rang through the hall, more menacing because of its cultured British accent which I’d never noticed in our dream encounters.
Of its own accord, my body twirled around like an automaton, arms suddenly pinned by invisible bonds. My legs were rigid and my feet hovered centimetres above solid ground to commence the journey in the direction of the foyer entry. No matter how I tried to fight, my limbs were no longer in my own command.
Panic swamped me and sweat trickled my forehead. What had seemed an impenetrable barricade to the warehouse minutes before now became wretchedly flimsy. Seth dictated my movements from a distance like a remote-controlled toy. He’d trapped my Warrior with startling ease. What other superhuman abilities did he possess?
Smith’s hammered blitz faded as I levitated through the collection. I passed our archangel Mike, but his vacant orbs searched the heavens. He would not be delivering trivial humans from their own stupidity today. My thoughts skipped about erratically. I did not have the Stone. Was Seth aware of this? I would be of no use in finding it! What if it wasn’t the Stone he wanted. What else?
Gritting my jaw, I flung my head from side to side, praying to connect with something that would render me unconscious to no avail. I accidentally bit down on my bottom lip and tasted blood. So close, now.
Onward between rowed Ming and Quing Dynasty vases, past two imposing Czar Nicholas I cream-and-crimson urns from Russian Imperial Porcelain on pedestals at the end of each queue. And then I glided up three steps onto the landing where the carved animal visages of Isis and Osiris stared ahead with impassive disregard. What use were gods and angels if they refused to come to the rescue?
The ghostly music stopped. And finally, the most ominous sound of all. From this side, the bleep of facial recognition activating echoed loudly, and the doors swung wide on their automated mechanism. My pulse stuttered to a momentary halt, fright keeping my eyes riveted on the growing scene beyond. The storm raged, rain blasting inwards to plaster wet hair across my face and obscure vision. Leaves swirled on wind squalls and I blinked madly in a vain effort to sight my enemy, goosebumps stippling every millimetre of my flesh.
Still, I could not move. He must be somewhere close by to exert such influence. And then, as if on prompt, a figure congealed from the grey drear. Despite his hand spanning the distance between us, he remained an indistinct creature of shadow and fog. I flinched when a disembodied, manly knuckle lightly wiped blood from the bite in my bottom lip. Without further warning, a vaporous mist circled my waist in an impossible embrace. I was heaved out onto the street.
Bands of tight fabric constricted my wrists and velvety blackness covered my eyes. We were swiftly in motion, blowing through the city like a tornado. This was not a known type of transport. There was no engine’s whine, no rough transference of a limp hostage, banging doors or pinballing in the boot of a speeding car. I travelled slickly and silently. One minute, I felt cocooned in a strange swirl of liquid shadow; the next, the heat and hardness of his powerful body became uncomfortably apparent. He seemed to pulsate between solid and ghostly. I considered struggling when he next materialised. The intention was short-lived.
“Do as I say or it will not go well for you.”
All I had to do was comply with his wise request. He was not asking much and it was for my own safety. But there were questions to be answered. Weren’t there? Why were we outside? I wasn’t allowed outside! Dread clamped my throat around a scream.
As if in response to the turmoil, he murmured hotly in my ear, “Listen to me. Listen.” His fascinating voice lulled me to a dreamy stupor. I’d been stolen seconds ago. But I couldn’t remember from where. I belonged to him. I would stay with him forever.
“Sleep, little girl. Let the darkness take you.”
Twenty-Two
I found myself in a dimly lit, rectangular room. At the furthest end from me, an alcove of three shelved walls showcased a breathtaking array of literature, a grand elaborately carved desk nestled in the library’s cosy niche. On the desk sat a small silver tray, a decanter and two glasses. I stood at the other end, where a fire crackled merrily in the grate at my back, my bare feet sinking into the pile of a thick, burgundy rug.
A long, gossamer gown clung to my figure when I moved, its nude shade perfectly matching my skin. Looking down, I realised I was naked beneath, and felt very exposed. The filmy material did nothing to maintain modesty. My hand went to my hair, curls som
ehow piled on top. The room was empty, but I could not drag my attention from the door to my left at the halfway point of the longest wall, which was covered by rich crimson-and-gold flocked wallpaper.
I willed myself to go over and try that ornate brass knob, to check it was locked. Maybe I could jam a chair underneath it. My feet refused to move. What was the point anyway? I didn’t have a key or a suitable chair. Making a dash for freedom didn’t even enter my mind. A cool draught forced me closer to the warmth of the fire and I sank to my knees, still rapt by that door.
Something was very wrong, but I could not decipher the cause. Memories trickled away when I tried to concentrate, replaced by a void of confusion. Was I drunk or drugged?
And then the handle softly turned. My heart thudded like a sparrow trapped behind glass, riveted as the door swung slowly inwards. Seth slipped into the space, moving with leonine grace.
Up close, he was obscenely attractive. The type of man whose charisma sucked the oxygen from a room when he entered, slowing time, as all who looked upon him stared with open-mouthed envy and awe. People would fall over themselves to please him and bask in the privilege of his favour for even a fleeting moment. His magnetic pull was abnormal.
“On our knees a little early, aren’t we? We haven’t yet been formally introduced.” His eyes roved slowly over my body and I didn’t have enough arms to cover myself
