by Laura Powell
The dog barked again. Rough, urgent. Familiar.
I opened my eyes. The lamp had gone out. Darkness pressed all around me, thick as fear, heavy as stone. I shouldn’t be able to hear anything through that iron lid. Yet a dog had barked, and I had heard it. A flesh-and-blood bark. A bark from the ordinary world.
I tried to shout. It was hopeless – my voice was rubbed raw from screaming. All I could manage was a hoarse whisper.
Yet the dog answered me. It barked on and on, then began to whine. The whining turned into a creak. The creak got louder. With a rusty, straining sound, the iron lid inched upwards.
I saw a grey wolfhound, its panting breath steaming joyously in the night air. I saw Cally, crying. And Aiden, saying my name, over and over, like an answered prayer.
And then he was there, with me, in the pit, and we were clutching each other like we had in the wood, entangled, pulling at each other’s clothes, grasping at each other’s hair. His skin was warm bronze, and my tears and his were salt, running through my hair, down my neck, through our entwined hands.
Chapter 23
It was Cally, however, who had led the rescue.
‘I told Lionel you were his daughter,’ was how she began.
‘What?’ Even after everything that had happened in the last few hours, this made me start.
She nodded. We were walking through the cult cemetery, in which my tomb had been one of thousands. Row upon row of identical black stone urns. The names carved on the urns were identical too. I had already seen three Auras, two Caryas and an Opis.
The urns didn’t interest me, however. I kept looking from Cally to Aiden and back again. I wanted to keep touching them, to check they were real. Cally’s revelation, however, had jolted me out of my dreamlike state.
‘It’s silly,’ she said, ‘but I got the idea because you and Lionel both do that thing with your lip. You know – pulling at it when you’re nervous or worried about something. Well, Lionel was doing it when we were in the Chamber of the Oracle, and I remembered it’s something I always associate with you. And you do have the same sort of colouring.’
Aiden and I both started to object.
‘It wasn’t just the physical stuff,’ Cally said calmly. ‘It was more about how Opis talked about Carya . . .’
After Seb had ushered Cally out of the crypt, they were supposed to go back to the Sanctuary. But she was desperate to know what Opis had planned for me. So outside the temple, she told him she’d lost an earring, and wanted to return to the Sacred Hall to look for it. When she saw Lionel leaving, she hid behind a pillar, then sneaked back downstairs.
‘You see, Opis had already told me what happened with your mother and Harry Soames. She said it was proof of how you were lying about the oracle, and why Mr Soames had made those accusations at the festival. She said you were bad blood and cursed by the goddess. But when she got you alone in the crypt, and was so wild and ranting . . . so jealous of Carya, after all these years . . . that’s when I thought that maybe their rivalry was about love as well as power. And not for Harry, but Lionel.’
My mother had chosen the wrong man to love, and it had resulted in hate. A hate that had poisoned Opis, and nearly killed me.
I had thought the worst of my fears and regrets had been left behind in the pit. Now I realised this wasn’t true. Yet I couldn’t give in to them. I mustn’t let the poison spread.
‘How much else did you hear?’ I asked Cally laboriously.
‘Not much. Seb came to find me, just as Opis kicked you to the floor. He forced me back to the High Priestess’s residence, to wait with him and Lionel.
‘Lionel was really tense. The communications net-work was back up, and his phone was going crazy. What happened with the general in Parliament Square had really rattled him. The plan was to force you to publicly renounce your oracles on TV. They were going to blackmail you, you see, because they’ve got Cynthia and Leto locked up somewhere in the Sanctuary.
‘But Opis had told them they didn’t need blackmail, and that if she could just get you on your own she could make you see the error of your ways. I don’t think Seb and Lionel knew what she was planning. I’d guessed, though. I had heard it in her voice.
‘Suddenly I snapped. I couldn’t understand what had happened to me. Why I was just sitting there, in my ridiculous costume, like a little doll. I was just a toy to them. To everyone. So I got up and said I was going to find you. They tried to stop me leaving, and – and I kicked Seb. Between the legs. Hard.’
I laughed then, in spite of everything.
‘Attagirl,’ said Aiden.
Cally gave a small bleak smile. ‘That’s when I told Lionel you were his daughter. He was so shocked he just stood there, blinking and spluttering. He kept saying no, you were a boy, and you were dead. I ran past him and he didn’t stop me either.’
Cally had fled to the Sanctuary gates. Another Trinovantum Council car was outside, ready for when the Winters wanted to leave. She got in and told the driver she had an urgent errand. He was surprised, but she was the oracle, all dressed up in her ritual finery, and so he did as he was told. Only a few minutes later, she saw Aiden among a group of protesters heading towards the temple. She ordered the driver out, and Aiden in.
The two of them then drove to the cemetery. ‘I had this gut instinct that Opis would take you to the Place of Punishment,’ Cally said. ‘And then we saw one of her pearl hairpins lying on the ground by the gates, so we knew we were on the right track. But this place is huge. We didn’t know where to start – until Argos bounded out of the bushes. We all thought he was on the run with you. But it was like he’d been waiting for us the whole time.’
Argos licked my hand and wagged his tail. He must have been living rough ever since I lost him outside the squat, but although he was thinner, and there were burrs in his coat, he showed no ill effects from his adventures.
The lid of my prison had been covered in grass matting, and there was a black urn on the top, just like all the other graves. The lid itself was closed with an ordinary bolt, which had been recently oiled. Opis had made her preparations well. If it hadn’t been for Argos, I would never have been found.
As we approached the cemetery gates, Aiden and I hung back, our hands just touching.
‘Don’t disappear again,’ he said.
Argos woofed, as if in agreement. I took a deep breath.
‘Artemis was with me in the pit, just like she was with me and you in the woods. She’s still with me,’ I told him. ‘Still in me. I can feel it. Do you . . . do you understand?’
‘I do.’
We walked on in silence. There was dried blood on his forehead from his assault at the protest. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes, his hair was dirty and his nails were bitten down to the quick. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Beautiful, and forbidden.
Cally was waiting for us by the car. Just before we got there, Aiden came to an abrupt stop. He spoke quickly, with irritable little tugs at his hair. ‘OK. Here’s the thing. I just want you to know that I’m with you too. As well as the goddess. I won’t ask you for anything, I won’t get in your way. But I’ll be here, Aura, for as long as you need me. OK?’
I tried to smile, even though a shadow had passed over my heart. The small black urns had reminded me of the Sibyl in her jar. He had made a noble gesture, but it wouldn’t work in the real world. Not as long as Artemis had me in her grip. Until I was free, neither was Aiden.
In the meantime, we needed to find Lionel. Only he could put a stop to Opis. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a get-out plan,’ Aiden said. ‘She might already be on a jet to some tropical island hideaway.’
‘She’ll be wherever the Lord Herne is,’ said Cally. She squeezed my hand. ‘I’m sorry about Lionel. I . . . well . . . I know what it’s like, having a parent who isn’t up to much. But at least he didn’t know who you were.’
I squeezed Cally’s hand back. I decided that my mother had been right
: I was a child of the goddess. Lionel Winter was not, and would never be, a part of my true self.
Aiden parked a little way from the Sanctuary. We thought we would start our search there, but then we saw that all the temple lights were blazing.
Quite a few people were milling about in the square, even though it was midnight. A group had set up camp, ready for another day of protests. When we were recognised – the two rival oracles, arm in arm – there was quite a commotion. However, thanks to Cally’s set of keys, we were up the steps and through the temple doors before anyone could waylay us.
The Sacred Hall was lit up like on Festival Day. Bundles of lilies were everywhere; the smell was overpoweringly sweet. The altar itself was a mess. Among a clutter of amulets was a bowl of salt and a white dove, its entrails spilled on to a gold dish.
Aiden frowned. ‘What the hell . . . ?’
‘It’s the remnants of a purification ritual. For atonement,’ Cally replied.
I raised my brows. ‘Maybe our Honoured Lady isn’t so sure she’s immune from thunderbolts after all.’
‘So where is she now?’ asked Aiden.
Cally pointed to the door leading to the crypt. It was ajar.
Aiden wanted to go first, but I wouldn’t let him. I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t think I’d be afraid ever again. I had already been to the underworld and back today.
The three of us crept down the worn stone steps. There was no door at the bottom so I hung back in the shadows of the stairwell.
I heard Lionel’s voice, ragged with barely suppressed fury. ‘How dare you keep this from me? My own flesh and blood –’
‘Why would you care?’ Opis spat back. ‘She was under your nose the whole time. But you didn’t look. You didn’t want to know. Just like you didn’t want to know about Carya. You believed what you wanted to, like always.’
‘You lied to me. You tricked me. Carya –’
‘Carya was an even bigger fool than me. You played us both. The best years of my life I’ve given to you, and this cult. And what do I get for it? What do I have? Nothing and no one.’
‘Oh, please. Even now, you reek with ambition. I never wanted to involve the oracle in the coup. I did it to please you.’
‘And you’ve managed to screw that up too, along with everything else.’
‘What have you done with my daughter, you bitch?’
Opis began to laugh. ‘So it’s different, is it, now that she’s not somebody else’s bastard, some faceless temple brat? You should thank me for clearing up your mess. She’s in Elysium, Lionel. The goddess took her –’
I stepped out of the shadows. ‘But then she brought me back.’
Opis whipped round. Her tendrils of uncombed hair seemed to lift from her head, black and snaky. Her eyes were bloodshot slits. She hissed, and her tongue flickered.
Lionel’s face was all bones. ‘Aura,’ he said wonderingly.
Opis gave a strangled cry, and snatched up the ceremonial silver arrow that was lying on the altar. She rushed towards me, its point aimed like a dagger to my heart.
There was a loud crack. The stone room echoed with it. Opis bent over, clutching her side. There was a hole in it, bubbling and red. Behind her, Lionel was holding a pistol. His hand shook.
Opis staggered, fell, clawed at the altar. Slowly, painfully, she dragged herself on to it. She made a faint mewing sound. ‘God . . .’ she started to say. ‘God . . .’ Blood frothed out of her mouth. She let out a long, whispering sigh.
I went to her then, in spite of myself. But her eyes were already glazed.
‘It’s over.’
‘Yes,’ my father said. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, it’s all over. Too late.’ He gave a wry half-smile. ‘The police will be here soon. I called them, to take her away. Now they will come for me.’
He looked at me carefully, searchingly, in the way Harry Soames had. Looking for traces of my mother’s face, or his own.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said formally. ‘I loved her, you see.’
I didn’t know whether he meant my mother or Opis. I never will. This time, his hand didn’t shake. He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
I don’t remember much about what happened immediately afterwards. I heard somebody sobbing; I think it was Cally. Aiden put his arms round me and I barely noticed. Then more people arrived, in uniform, and there was more commotion and shouting and bright lights. It meant nothing to me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the body of the High Priestess, slumped across King Brutus’s altar stone.
Blood, especially the blood of a priestess, is a powerful thing. Sacrifice calls the goddess to us. It releases her too.
My head chimed, cold and sweet. And despite the noise and confusion, the blood-spattered horror of it all, I felt a loosening deep within me. I was slack as an unstrung bow.
It was over, and I was free.
Epilogue
I gave my final oracle two weeks later. It was my first and last fake.
Live on TV, I rode from the Sanctuary to the temple in the High Priestess’s gold chariot, through cheering crowds. I was crowned with the moonstone headdress and dressed in robes the colour of sea-foam with a girdle of amethysts. Lilies and amaranths were thrown in my path. As the handmaidens sang the processional hymn, I walked through the Sacred Hall and descended to the crypt. There I lit the candles on King Brutus’s altar, and drew back the curtain to the Chamber of the Oracle.
I sat on the tripod seat and contemplated the statue in the alcove. I prayed to Holy Artemis, Lady of the Moon, Queen of Beasts, to approve my words.
Then I gave my oracle to Harry Soames, the new Lord Herne.
The oracle was long and digressive. It quoted from Homer, Euripides and Rilke. You can read the full text, along with those of my other prophecies, in the display room in the cult archive.
The references may have been rambling, but the interpretation was clear. There was no place for the army in government. The principal evildoers within the cult had been purged, but much work remained to be done and we, the people of Britain, must remain vigilant. Reform must start with free and fair elections. And a new era called for a new oracle. My service to the goddess was done.
Afterwards, I put away the headdress and the jewelled girdle, the floral wreaths. I went back to Artemisia House and signed the papers formally releasing me from the cult.
Leto is High Priestess now. She’s the oldest on record, but in spite of her grumbles I reckon she’ll be going strong for a good few years yet. At least until one of the younger ones is ready to step in.
Perhaps it will be Cynthia. After a lot of thought, she decided she wanted to remain in the cult and has taken charge of its new community outreach programme – hospice work and soup kitchens and battered women’s shelters. The last time I visited she was almost like the girl I remembered, the girl with the dancing eyes.
Cally, though, has gone. I was the first person she told. We sat side by side in our bedroom, holding hands, in a way we’d never done even when we were little girls. Her voice faltered as she asked, ‘Do you think Artemis will forgive me?’
‘Of course. You were a victim in all of this too.’
‘Not at first, I wasn’t. It was exciting, all the attention and the fuss. All the people bringing me presents and compliments, telling me how special I was. How I’d been Chosen. And I did feel Chosen, to begin with. By Opis and Lionel and . . . and Seb.’
She winced. ‘Aura,’ she whispered, ‘I’m so ashamed. I just . . . I’d never felt that way about anyone before. It was overwhelming. And Seb said he felt the same, and that Artemis wanted the two of us to be together. That we had a special responsibility. Opis and the Lord Herne kept saying what a terrible state the country was in, and how my oracles could bring new believers to the cult, and help restore order . . . They brought my mother in, too, and she was so proud. So excited for me. Yet I knew it was wrong, inside. And it got more wrong as time went on. But I was trapped, because I’d agreed to the lies. I just h
ad to keep on lying.’
‘How do you feel about Seb now?’
‘That I wish I’d kicked him harder.’ She lifted her chin, with a flash of the old Cally. I knew then that she’d be all right.
She’s touring the States now, to promote a book about her time as the fake oracle. Noah Evans, Rick Moodie’s agent, is representing her. He reckons she’s going to go far. Cousin Seb, meanwhile, has also left the country, though in much murkier circumstances. There’s a warrant out for his arrest.
The Emergency Committee didn’t survive Lionel Winter’s death. He was too important a figure within the coup, and his and Opis’s murder–suicide was too huge a scandal to be covered up. Despite General Ferrer’s efforts, the committee had already lost the support of the army, and soon collapsed in disarray. Most of its members are in prison now, awaiting trial.
The woman I met in Westminster Abbey, the one-time shadow health minister, is acting prime minister. She’s got her work cut out. There are still protests and strikes, hardly any money, not enough jobs. Yet we came back from the brink, and – goddess willing – things won’t get so bad again.
After my last oracle, I left the city. Aiden had helped me leave the cult, and now he was helping me build a new life, for the two of us. We spent some time on a faraway island, where there was sunshine and sand dunes and nobody had heard of Artemis, let alone me. When I came back, Harry Soames had strong-armed the Trinovantum Council to come up with the funds for a new home. I even have a new name, which took a bit of getting used to. Aiden helped pick it out.
I have never felt the goddess again. I still listen for her, under autumn trees in a gathering darkness, when the sky is streaked with gold. Or else it will be a night when the moon is bright as ice, and a dog howls into the wind. Once you have experienced the divine as a living presence, once you’ve known the beauty and terror of their touch, the ordinary world can seem a pale and faded thing. Only sometimes, though. And not for long.
