by E. E. Holmes
“I guess so.” It was a relief to think that Seamus had not betrayed us all, but he was only one of dozens of Caomhnóir at Fairhaven. There were plenty of other places at which our ranks could have been infiltrated. “Look, Fiona, I’ve got to go. Finn is going meet me at the end of his shift and lead me to where the Caomhnóir common areas are, so that I can have a look around. With any luck, I’ll get some answers about what’s going on.”
Fiona bit her lip, and I knew that she was barely restraining herself from expressing more doubts about Finn’s reliability. “Be careful. Keep your eyes open and your guard up.”
“I will,” I promised her. “And I’ll let you know what I find out just as soon as I can.” I closed the distance between us, and though I couldn’t hug her—I wasn’t even sure I’d have dared to if I’d been in possession of arms—I tried to let my energy seep out toward her, tried to mentally wrap her in feelings of confidence and solidarity and hope. It seemed to work. She managed to give me a half-hearted smile, at any rate.
“Good luck, then, Jess,” Fiona said. “I reckon you’re going to need it.”
I slipped down the hallway, now panicking slightly about the time. I hadn’t counted on losing the time I spent in Fiona’s cell, and I wasn’t sure how long I had spent there, though I was sure it couldn’t have been anywhere as long as half an hour. When I reached the ground level, however, I was relieved to see a clock on the wall near the doors to the courtyard. I still had twelve minutes before Finn and I were due to meet.
I approached the staircase to the lower levels with caution. It was a part of the príosún I had not yet seen, and I had no idea what to expect. It was clear as I descended, though, that these lower recesses were among the oldest parts of the castle. The stairs arced downward in a wide spiral. There were no railings or hand holds at all—the stairs simply dropped off into the darkness a few feet to my right. This wasn’t a problem in my current state, but would have been terrifying had I been making this descent in my body. Rusty, empty brackets were spaced along the walls, the stones around them blackened with decades’ worth of soot and smoke. In the earlier days of the castle, they must have held torches, but now, outdated electric light fixtures had been installed above them, suggesting the burning heads of the long-extinguished torches with naked, flickering bulbs. There had been a fire here decades and decades ago, Eleanora had once told me. The smell of it lingered behind, imbedded and baked into the surfaces that would not burn.
I arrived on the first landing and looked down the hallway as far as the meager lighting would penetrate. This was the uppermost basement level, the first of the maximum-security cellblocks. If the floor where I was being kept had seemed grim, it was nothing compared to these damp and miserable quarters, which Finn had said housed spirit prisoners. I did not stop to investigate, only sent a thankful prayer that there were no living people being held on this floor. The thought of a human being having to endure such a place with no light and no fresh air was too awful to contemplate. I descended one more flight of stairs and arrived in the second basement cellblock. All was still, except for a steady sound of dripping water, and the electrical hum of the old Edison bulbs above the torch brackets, which also ran the length of the hallway. Somewhere to my left, a scurrying sound of rodents. I was glad that I could not properly smell the place. I pressed my form against the wall between the staircase and the nearest cell door, exactly where Finn told me to wait for him. There was no sign of him as of yet, but this did not worry me. I was early, and I knew that it was his job to patrol the entire cellblock. He would come into view soon enough; he would have to ascend the staircase to make his way back to the Caomhnóir sleeping quarters, and so I knew that I could not miss him.
The minutes stretched on. I heard no echoing sound of boots, no coughs or sighs, no clanking of an ancient ring of skeleton keys. Someone was humming, a woman, but I could not tell if it was a spirit or a living voice. I only knew that it wasn’t Finn’s voice, and that was the only one I cared about hearing at the moment. The absence of it was beginning to feel like the absence of oxygen.
I started to grow antsy, impatient. I knew I hadn’t been late for our scheduled meeting time, and yet I was sure that four o’clock had come and gone by now. What could be keeping him? Shift changes ought to run like clockwork, and Finn certainly wouldn’t leave me waiting any longer than necessary, not when he knew how much I was counting on his guidance through the upper levels of the príosún. Something is wrong, I thought to myself. Something is definitely wrong.
I hung there indecisively for a moment. I wanted to search the cellblock, but I did not want to take the chance that Finn would somehow slip by me if I left the designated meeting place. I looked down the length of the corridor to where it disappeared around the corner. It was narrow, with cells lining just one side of the hallway. There were no additional hallways leading off this one down which he might be able to slip unnoticed. It was unlikely, I reasoned with myself, that we could pass each other in this hallway without seeing each other. Unless he were hiding inside one of the cells, which made absolutely no sense at all, he would have to walk past me in plain sight in order to reach the staircase. Reluctantly, I made the decision to traverse the hallway as far as I could and see if I could figure out why Finn had been held up.
Further and further into the subterranean passage I traveled, passing door after identical door, and light after identical light. It was disorienting; I felt like a subway train barreling down a deserted line after last call. As I rounded another corner, I saw a single wooden door off of the hallway to my left, across from the prisoner cells. Being careful to stay tuned to the corridor in case I missed him, I quickly pushed myself through the plane of the door and into the space behind it. It was a tiny, dingy bathroom, but also contained a small table, a folding chair, a mini fridge, and a pile of outdated magazines. It was also deserted, with no sign that Finn had been in it recently. Disappointed, I slipped back out into the hallway and continued to follow it around one last bend, until it ended in a blank expanse of stone wall.
My panic began to peak. Not only did it seem that Finn was not here to guard the cellblock, but no one else was here to guard it either, leaving whoever occupied the many cells on this floor to their own, unguarded devices.
Just calm down, I intoned to myself as I fruitlessly scanned the empty stone wall for some kind of explanation, half-hoping some Caomhnóir might’ve written on it with a piece of chalk, “Gone to the loo, back in five.”
There could’ve been a change of plan, I reasoned. He could’ve arrived for his shift and then been told by a superior to report somewhere else. That kind of thing must happen all the time. It’s not anything he would have any control over. It’s not something that he could just pop back upstairs to inform me of, either. He would just have to trust that I would find my way around without his help, and without completely freaking out. So, that’s what I was going to do, until I could figure things out. And then I’d kill him for making me panic like this, obviously.
I prepared myself to make the journey back down the long corridor when a thought suddenly occurred to me. Fiona had said that Charlie Wright had been let out of his cell, that he may possibly have been branded with protection—the same protection that the Caomhnóir all possessed. That meant that the Necromancers and the Caomhnóir must already be working together in some capacity. What if… what if this corridor was not being guarded because there was no one left here to guard?
What if the prisoners were no longer prisoners?
I looked along the seemingly endless wall of cell doors and found myself wondering: was it possible that each and every one of these cells was now empty? Somehow, that thought was even more terrifying than the possibility that each of the cells held a Necromancer bent on my destruction. At least in the second scenario, they were in the cells; they were contained. But if they’d been released… if they were roaming the castle unimpeded…
I approached the nearest door with
extreme trepidation. And when I looked inside it, I was already prepared for what I would find.
Nothing. There was nothing. The cell was empty.
Quickly, I peered into the next cell, and then the next. I propelled myself past every cell in the entire ward one by one. Empty. All empty. Except…
The very first cell in the corridor—the one against whose wall I had pressed myself and waited those first few minutes for Finn to arrive, was the one cell that was occupied. Unlike the cells of the upper levels, which had been outfitted to make them fit for human habitation, this sewer hole of a space was barely fit for the rats that surely frequented it. Moisture glistened on the walls and iron chains and manacles hung from heavy iron pegs. A tattered bedroll occupied the back corner, along with a small collection of personal items—a hairbrush, a cup, a moldering magazine—hoarded by the occupant into a little pile the way a squirrel might hoard acorns.
And from the furthest corner of the room, the glint of a pair of eyes and a velvety chuckle penetrated the gloom…
“Well, well, well, it appears the rumors are true. Ms. Jessica Ballard has indeed penetrated the walls of Skye Príosún. Color me impressed,” said a familiar, languid voice.
Lucida leaned forward, detaching herself from the shadows to get a better look at me. It was hard to believe, seeing her now, that she was the same flawlessly chic woman who had slipped through my open bedroom window in the dead of night barely five years previously. Her lustrous black hair, which she had always worn natural, was a tangled nest upon her head. Her face was all points and angles now, her cheekbones threatening to poke through her skin, which was tinged with a sallowness. The whites of her eyes had a yellowish quality to them as well, and the sharp, fierce light that used to shine from them had dulled, though not completely gone out. She wore a prison uniform identical to the one I had just left behind on my body upstairs, but hers had grown filthy and threadbare. One of her knees poked through the cotton of her pants, and she was barefoot.
The sight of her in this state was such a shock that I found it difficult to respond to her words. “Hello, Lucida,” I said at last. “What rumors are you talking about?”
“Oh, poppet, haven’t you heard? You’re the talk of the town. The cat’s meow. The girl of the moment.”
“What are you on about, Lucida?” I snapped. “Just spit it out.”
“I didn’t believe them at first, oh no,” Lucida said, biting her lip in a strange attempt at coyness. “I was sure they must have been mistaken. The Northern Clans would never use a powerful, precious little commodity such as yourself as simple bait. That would be ludicrous, I told myself. But it would appear that I was entirely mistaken. I’ve been forced to eat my words. Best tasting thing I’ve eaten in years, I reckon.” She nudged a nearby food tray with her big toe. The contents of it appeared untouched.
Though it was more comfortable to have the solid steel door between us, I knew that Lucida couldn’t hurt me while I was in this form, and so I broke the plane of the door and arrived on the other side, where I could see her better.
Her eyes widened as she watched me enter, and her face curved into a sardonic smile. “Impressive,” she whispered. “Very impressive, indeed. I never had a chance to see this particular party trick of yours before they locked me up. I can see now why they made such a big fuss about it. You can just sail right in and out of these warded spaces, can’t you? Highly useful.”
“Who’s been talking about my being here?” I asked her. “Who’s been spreading rumors?”
“Oh, all the cool kids,” Lucida insisted. “The Necromancers, the Caomhnóir… well, it’s all really six of one, half a dozen of the other now, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“All cozied up together, aren’t they?” Lucida said in a stage whisper. “It’s taken many years of planning and persuasion. They’ve been at it ever since we first arrived here, in the aftermath of the Prophecy. Nothing much came of it at first. It started out very subtle, like. A callous remark about the Durupinen here and there, thrown about in the presence of disgruntled Caomhnóir who were likely thinking very similar sentiments. I would see it once in a while: they would catch each other’s eye, and an understanding would pass between them. And it just grew naturally out of a mutual hatred for the women who kept them stifled and under control. Full honor and duty are hard to maintain when you’re treated like the help, rather than equals and distinguished warriors. One would think the Durupinen could figure that out, but then again, they always had a knack for abusing their own at their own expense. Just look at yours truly, for example.” Her face broke into an angelic grin, which slipped off her features as quickly as it had appeared. “Just can’t get out of their own bloody way,” she added, shaking her head in disgust. “Goddamn fools.”
“Well, what are you doing in here, then?” I spat at her. “Why aren’t you out there, helping your Necromancer buddies take down the Durupinen, as usual?”
The smug light in Lucida’s eyes flickered, and her face gave a twitch, like she might suddenly burst into tears. “The Necromancers and the Durupinen have one thing in common. They are both exceptionally good at casting aside those who they have deemed are no longer useful to them. I am no longer the invaluable key to the success of their plans. And so, I’ve been relegated to rot in this cell by Durupinen and Necromancers alike. Sweet, really, that they’ve been brought together in their mutual belief that I am now worthless.”
I felt a great stab of pity for her, something I never thought I’d be able to muster. But she was such a pathetic sight, languishing there, still desperately cloaking herself in her signature bravado.
“So, you aren’t working with them anymore?” I asked her dubiously.
“Alas, I am not,” Lucida concurred. “Although, I very much doubt that you’ll take me at my word on that.”
“That’s for damn sure,” I muttered. “How long have they all been out of their cells?”
“Some Caomhnóir came through a few hours ago, and let them all out. I don’t know where they’ve gone.”
“And you don’t know what they’re planning?” I asked her, hardly expecting an answer.
Lucida cocked her head to one side, considering me. “It’s like I just told you: I’m no longer their golden child. I’m not included in their plans.”
“But you’ve been locked up down here with them,” I pressed. “If they’ve abandoned you as completely as you say, and they probably don’t pay much attention to you anymore, I bet you’ve overheard all kinds of things. I bet they’ve been careless.”
Lucida smirked. “Who’s a clever girl, then?” she whispered to me. “You’re right, of course.”
“And?”
Lucida paused again, and she seemed to be debating what to do. I’m not sure what convinced her to answer my question, but all of a sudden, her features crumpled, and her voice became small and hopeless. “They’ve turned all the Caomhnóir that they think will join them willingly. They decided the time has come to subdue the others, and claim dominion over the príosún.”
“Subdue?” I asked, my energy beginning to crackle and pop with fear. “How? What are they planning to do to them?”
Lucida gave a shrug. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I do know that they’ve released all the spirit prisoners from their cells in order to do it.”
“Have you seen Finn Carey?” I asked urgently. “My former Caomhnóir, Finn Carey. He was supposed to be down here, on this shift right now. Have you seen him?”
Lucida shook her head. “There’s been no one on shift here for hours, not since they took the Necromancers out.”
My mind was spinning. They must have intercepted Finn before he could make his way down here. But where had they brought him, and what had they done with him? My fear was making me feel dizzy, and weak. Lucida’s cell begin to swim in and out of focus.
“Something is wrong,” I mumbled. “Something is wrong with me.”
�
�That will be Castings, I expect,” Lucida said quietly.
“Castings? What Castings?” She was nothing but a blur in front of me, now. A tingling sensation was spreading through my form.
“The ones they’re surely putting on your body upstairs right now,” Lucida said. She didn’t sound smug at all. She sounded sad and resigned.
“On my body? But…”
“If Finn was supposed to meet you here, and he hasn’t, that will mean they’ve captured him. And if they have, then they’ll know by now that he’s been working with you, and that you’re Walking. My guess is that they’ll find a way to trap you back in that body, so that you can’t get away.”
“But… they can’t… I can’t…” Everything was blinking and shuddering around me, going light and then dark. I couldn’t see my own form any more, couldn’t remember how to propel myself through space.
“I’m sorry, love,” Lucida said. “The Necromancers are a force, and you can’t stop them.”
“Help me…” I whispered, and Lucida’s eyes widened in shock. “It’s not too late…”
She opened her mouth as though to answer me, but I never found out what it was she wanted to say. Suddenly, I felt myself being tugged and jerked, pulled and prodded, by invisible forces that I could neither resist nor fight against. I lost all my bearings, all of my ability to process my surroundings. All I knew was that I was being pulled against my will through space, and there was nothing that I could do to stop it. And then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped, and I felt myself collide with my own body with the force of a car crash.
My eyes were streaming, and I was thrashing and kicking and shouting before I even knew that I had regained the physical form in which to do these things. A heavy weight was pressing down upon my torso, and I could feel hands holding my limbs down to the bed. My body was in a state of sheer animal panic, and now that my spirit had come back, the return of my sentience only intensified my instinct to fight myself free of whoever was attacking me.
