Felicity was shocked at the weight when he rolled into her waiting arms. Still screened by the altar, she lowered the lad to the floor and helped him sit up.
… we catch the fire from out the Goddess’s eye…
Thank goodness they were still looking inward at the circle, wrapt in their ritual. Felicity prayed the chant would have another verse. She feared the litany would end at any moment and that they would turn toward the altar.
“Can you walk? We need to get you out of here.” She grasped Adam’s shoulders and shook him gently.
Adam nodded. It was clear that he was still dazed, but he was aware enough to manage a half nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Felicity held her breath again as they rose to their feet. Adam was sufficiently unsteady; it wasn’t necessary to tell him to sway like a dancer. Felicity grasped his hand for support. They were halfway to the door when a dancer stepped out of the circle and approached the censer. As she did so, her hood slipped back. Felicity gasped. Lydia! She must have realized the Orbis Astri had her brother after all, and come for him.
Just then Felicity’s worst fears were realized. The chant ended and the Imperator turned to the altar. “Run!” Felicity shoved Adam toward his sister.
With horror she realized the boy must be more addled than she knew because Adam turned and ran the opposite direction— toward the Orbis Astri. A tall figure stepped out and swept him off his feet. “No!” Felicity shouted.
And then the stars fell from the sky. Or were they setting off fireworks?
Chapter 29
Later
Circling pinwheels and shooting skyrockets again pierced the thick blackness. Felicity groaned at the pain in her head, then realized someone was binding her hands behind her back. She struggled to hit at them.
“Hold still. I almost have you untied. There’s no time to lose.”
“Ryan?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
He continued to work at her bindings as he spoke. “The Serene High Mucky-muck wasn’t very serene. Hit you hard.”
Felicity nodded. That explained her throbbing head.
“They dumped you here for the moment, but they’re sure to be back soon to finish their work.” The cords cutting her wrists fell loose.
She realized Nancy was untying her ankles. Chloe stood at the entrance, keeping guard.
“We were watching from above,” Ryan went on. “Chloe went up to get pictures. It seemed best to stay. Wasn’t much else we could do to help.”
“Smart.” Felicity rubbed her unbound hands to restore circulation. She gingerly fingered the pulsing lump on the back of her head. “Where are we?”
“Um, best I can tell it’s the latrine block.”
“Oh, great.” She looked around. “Where’s Antony?”
Nancy squeezed her shoulder. “They have him. He rushed forward when that priest hit you.”
Felicity jumped to her feet so fast she almost blacked out again. “Where? We have to get him.” She started forward, then paused. “We lost Adam. They’re going to…” She turned and, ignoring the dizziness threatening to engulf her, hurried down what seemed to be a wide corridor toward a dim light at the end. She didn’t know where she was going— what she was doing— but it appeared to be the only way to go.
At the end of the corridor she realized she was back in the Great Hall, where the others were. She pulled Evie’s tattered dress off and tossed it to her. And now she could hear the service proceeding in the room beyond. “And so, you see, my sister votaries, the graciousness of the goddess. She has sent us a far more powerful sacrifice than an innocent youth.” The seductive female voice rose in a triumphant pitch. “Tonight we sacrifice a priest! My sisters, the kingdom and the power and the glory are ours.”
Shutting her ears to chorus of exultant praises, Felicity crossed the hall in a few strides. Only Ryan’s restraining hand on her arm kept her from charging straight into the chapel. “We need a plan.”
“You have one?” she asked.
“Well, we have surprise on our side. If we go in through different entrances they might think they’re surrounded. With luck we can grab the candlesticks and statues to use as weapons. Chloe, Evie and Kaylyn can run across the lawn to the outside stairs. Jared, Nancy and I’ll go in here.”
Felicity saw the sense at once. She looked around. “The east window.” The altar was directly below it. That would get her to Antony most quickly.
Ryan shook his head. “This isn’t the ground floor. It must be 20 feet off the ground.”
“More.” Felicity nodded, then wished she hadn’t because it stirred the throb in her head. “I’ll go across from this window.” She strode across the floor toward the last of the tall, arched windows looking out over the courtyard. It was only a step up to the sill. Grasping each side of the opening firmly, she looked across the space to the chapel wall jutting out at a right angle from the end of the hall. She judged she could reach it all right. But could she grasp the stones framing the window and swing herself over? Or would it be better simply to leap from one window to another? Her legs were long enough, her ballet dancer’s muscles well-conditioned for such an action. But was her aim good enough? She hesitated.
“Tonight, on this night of powerful convergence, we have two sacrifices,” the priestess’s voice floated clearly across the space. And now Felicity recognized the voice. Anne Morgan. The Serene Imperator—Imperatress—wasn’t Rhys Morgan. It was his wife.
Felicity’s mind filled with the image of Anne Morgan standing at the altar, triumphant over a bound Antony in the place Adam had been. In the danger Adam had been. Or still was. That must be what she meant by two sacrifices.
Below her across the corner of the courtyard she could see Chloe and the girls ascending the outside stairs to the chapel. In a moment everyone would be in place. Inside the chapel the chant rose:
Spirits of fire come to us; We kindle the fire,
Spirits of fire come to us; We kindle the fire,
We kindle the fire; We dance the sacred circle round…
A wafting scent told Felicity a fresh scoop of incense had been placed on the glowing coals.
Fire, Fire, Fire; Kindle higher,
In thy flame naught else remains:
But Fire, Fire, Fire…
Now the Imperatress extended her hands full above her head, high enough that Felicity could see through the crumbling window arch that she held something in both hands. A knife, to plunge into the sacrificial victim? A knife that in the next moment would be dripping Antony’s blood?
Felicity lunged. She caught the near rim of the opening with both hands, and her right foot found purchase on the sill. Her left foot scrabbled the wall for the smallest projection or hole. Anything to restore her balance. It was no more than an uneven stone in the weathered wall. But it was enough.
Her arms aching with the strain, Felicity pulled herself closer to the opening and peered around. Thankfully the priestess no longer stood behind the altar, but had moved aside to stand before the incense burner, its red coals billowing smoke. And beside her stood her deaconess.
Felicity blinked; even through the clouds of incense, there was no doubt. Lydia Bowen stood second in rank to the Imperatress.
“On this night of double power, we offer two sacrifices.” Now Felicity could see that she held not a knife, but the artifact from the piscina. The Imperatress raised her arms again and drew the object from the pouch, brandishing it in triumph. A folded parchment. They were going to burn a document that had been preserved for 2,000 years. And then a human sacrifice. The horror was inconceivable.
“This account has helped the enemy for far too long. Hidden for centuries, it resurfaced too often when spirits lagged. It will surface no more!” She returned it to the pouch and handed it to Lydia who held it likewise aloft, awaiting the moment to put it on the coals.
Fire blaze, Fire burn: Make the wheel of magic turn
Work the wish for wh
ich we pray: Eo-deo-ah-hey-yeh
The high priestess turned to the altar. And this time she, indeed, held the long-bladed knife Felicity had imagined before. Reflections of flames flashed from the razor edge as she raised it high in both hands.
Blood of Ancients pulse in our veins,
Forms may pass, but circling life remains…
As the chant rose, exceeding fever pitch, Anne Morgan raised the knife over Antony’s inert body.
With a shriek that carried above the cantillation, Felicity flung herself from the window at Anne Morgan, knocking them both to the floor.
Barely aware of the chaos engulfing the room, Felicity focused on her one task—to wrest the knife from the woman’s hands. Whatever it took, she had to keep Anne Morgan from plunging it into Antony.
Grappling on the floor, the roaring cacophony and frenzied melee blended with the pain in Felicity’s head, all but blinding her. Anne Morgan was the larger, stronger woman. For a moment Felicity grasped the knife, then felt it wrenched from her hand.
Felicity flung her arm out. And her hand brushed the stone the priestess had hit her over the head with earlier. Her fingers closed on it and she swung upward with all her might.
With a groan Anne Morgan slumped to the side, releasing her grip on the knife. Before it could clatter to the floor, Felicity grabbed it. She pulled herself unsteadily up by the altar. The room was spinning, but she sawed at the bonds on Antony’s wrists.
And then she felt herself slipping. The blackness was winning.
Chapter 30
Later
Felicity had no idea how much later she came to. For a moment she didn’t know where she was or what she was doing. But she knew all she needed to know. She was in Antony’s arms.
She looked around and realized they were sitting on the floor of the Great Chapel of the Bishop’s Palace, leaning against the back of an altar. The air was scented with incense. A few candles flickered but not enough to compete with the stars in the sky above the roofless room. She could hear voices and people moving somewhere off, and yet it was as if she and Antony were inside a wonderful bubble of peace. “What are we doing here?”
Antony laughed and squeezed her. “My lovely heroine. You mean you don’t remember taking on the entire Orbis Astri practically single-handed?”
Felicity blinked as images flittered across her mind. Robed figures, swaying, chanting… glowing coals, something about to be burned… a small figure on an altar… No, not small. The whole world—her world. Antony. Still and bound. With a knife gleaming above him.
She sobbed and turned her face into his chest. “Antony, they were going to…”
“Yes.” He paused. “I had it wrong. Not a heroine; an angel.”
“Huh?”
“The story in the Old Testament. Abraham was about to sacrifice Isaac. God sent an angel to stay his hand.”
Felicity shook her head and took a deep breath of the night air. It was coming back to her now. “And then you rushed in to rescue me and they got you. Fine pair we are.” She sat for a moment, reveling in being held by Antony. Then she thought. “Adam?”
“Michael has him.”
“Michael? Oh, no!” She struggled to sit up.
“Hush, it’s all right. He’ll explain. I don’t really have the story yet, either.”
Felicity glanced sideways and saw the censer laying on its side, a trail of coals spread across the floor. “The artifact! It was from the scrynne, wasn’t it? Lydia burned it.” Her heart sank with the sense of loss. “Now we’ll never know what it was.”
“She would have, Ryan tipped the censer over and rescued it. A few scorchmarks on the pouch, but after 2,000 years, what’s a couple more marks?”
“You mean we won? But there were only six of us.”
“No, my lovely. You’re good, but you aren’t quite that good. Constable Owen arrived with the troops. Then the bishop swept in like an avenging angel just about the time the police were rounding everyone up.”
Just then, Ryan and Nancy, holding hands, appeared around the corner of the altar. “Are you ready to go?” Ryan asked. “The police will want to talk to you more tomorrow, but I think I’ve satisfied them for the moment.”
Nancy grinned. “They have their hands more than full with that lot.” She jerked her head toward the courtyard where angry sounds of protest sounded.
“Bishop Harry said to tell you that the Requiem Mass for Father Hwyl will be at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, in the cathedral. He’ll do a cleansing of the palace after that.”
“Great.” Antony grinned. “I think Bishop Harry’s a convert to the importance of deliverance ministry.” He got to his feet, then held his hands out to Felicity to help her rise. Her head swam and her knees almost buckled, but Antony’s arm was firm around her. She made no protest at being all but carried back across the field to the van.
At St Non’s, sunk deep in the cushions of the softest sofa, Felicity held Sister Nora’s steaming mug of hot chocolate in both hands. Antony sat close beside her like a protective shield against all the horrors that had passed. It seemed more as if she had been the one so nearly slaughtered on the altar of a pagan god. She let go of her mug with her left hand, and sought Antony’s.
She looked around the room. The band of pilgrims. Unbelievable how much they had been through together. Everyone looked exhausted—shattered. And yet, on every face there was a glow. Confidence. Satisfaction. The sense of a job well done.
In the furthest corner Michael sat in an oversized chair, a sleeping Adam sprawled against him. “Michael,” she began. “I must apologize to you. I thought…”
Michael nodded. “Don’t apologize. I know how it looked. And I did go along with it all at first. I was trying to find the artifact for Lydia.”
“But why?”
Michael stared at the floor. “I had applied for a job with her father’s company. A brilliant job that would more than finance going back to uni. She said she would help me if I would help her. It’s no excuse. I knew it was wrong. But she was very persuasive.” He paused so long Felicity was afraid he wasn’t going to say more.
Then he shook his head as if to clear the memory. “If Lydia looked deep into my eyes and said I was going to do something— well, I did it. I can’t explain it. I just did. I had no idea what it was for, though. I swear. You must believe me.”
Antony nodded. “Yes. It’s quite a simple method of mind control, actually. A common occult practice. I’m sure Anne Morgan used it on Rhys as well.”
“And one other thing,” Michael spoke with more assurance now. “I also stayed close to her for Adam’s sake. I could see there were problems there and I really wanted to help him. He’s so much like my little brother.” He looked at the tousled head on his shoulder.
Felicity frowned. “But you were there when she abducted him—at his school.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She must have handed him over to someone from the coven when I took the minibus to the garage. Perhaps ‘the nice lady’ who danced with him on Twmbarlwym— if she was real at all.” His voice took on a bitter note. “I had no idea she abducted her own brother—until I got to that vile ritual tonight. I was looking for a way to rescue him when you two showed up. All I had to do was grab him and run.” He smoothed the pale hair on the sleeping head. “I hope he’ll be all right now.”
“I think he’ll give evidence against Lydia on a kidnapping charge. With her and her jealousy out of the way, maybe he can have a more normal relationship with his parents,” Antony replied.
“So that’s why you were doing all that digging?” Felicity said slowly, still working through it all. “ But the Orbis Astri already had the document. The Scrynne was empty.” Then she gasped, recalling Chloe’s picture of Michael’s head peering over the corner corbel. “You found it.”
Michael nodded, looking ashamed. “I’m so sorry. Lydia came on the walk specifically to search for it. She had a map with exact locations marked where she was to sea
rch. Places they thought it likely to be hidden. The Bishop’s Palace was the last marking.”
“Rhys must have seen the floor plan at Hwyl’s. Or Hwyl took it from him. I’m not very clear on that,” Antony said.
Felicity shivered, then drank deeply of her hot chocolate. “So were the Orbis Astri people following us all the way?” It was obvious, really.
“But why?” Antony asked.
Michael grinned briefly. “Because of you, Father. They couldn’t be sure Hwyl didn’t make contact with you before he fell. They couldn’t be sure you didn’t know too much.”
“What do you think he wanted to tell you, Father?” Ryan, sitting at the far end of the room with Nancy, asked.
Antony sighed. “I can only guess. But I think he must have learned somehow about their plans for the mass and was coming to me for advice.” Antony shook his head. “Nothing in that seminar I taught could really have prepared anyone to handle this in more than just a general way.”
Jared spoke up for the first time, “This whole black mass thing—I don’t get it. Why were they doing it?”
“The convergence…” Antony began
“No, I got that. I mean, what did they want the power for?” He shrugged. “I suppose everybody wants power in some general way, but I mean, this was really OTT.”
Antony smiled. “Over the top is certainly an understatement. I’ve been thinking about that, too, and from some of the talk I heard at the Restoration Committee meeting, I think it was the rebuilding project. I think they planned to use the chapel as a satanic cathedral—more powerful because it was on the site of ancient Christian worship.”
“And Hwyl found out about this from serving on the committee?” Felicity asked.
“He must have learned enough to make him guess. They probably let things slip that only someone especially attuned to spiritual nuances—of all sorts—would pick up on.”
“I still can’t get my head around the fact that it was Anne, not Rhys, behind all that,” Felicity said. “He must have been absolutely besotted by her to let her talk him into such a scheme.”
An Unholy Communion Page 34
