Forgotten

by Lisa Phillips

  They both watched while the hedge grew over the brick, and the iron gate bolted to it.

  “What on earth.” Ben’s words were a whisper in the night.

  Daire didn’t think his voice would be that steady if he spoke right now. Where was Malachi? If they were going to get trapped in here until someone found, them he’d rather it was their teammate who did the discovering and not some local out for their morning walk.

  Daire looked around, gun still in his hand. “We can try the gate at the other end.”

  Other than those two, there were no more entrances or exits. It wasn’t like the old church needed more access than that. The whole place was no more than a couple of acres. Maybe a hectare at most.

  He took two steps, then realized Ben still stared at the gate. It was now completely covered in the branches and leaves of whatever bushes surrounded the church. It didn’t even look like a gate had ever been there.

  “If we’re going to get out we should move fast.”

  Ben glanced at him, but his face was hard to read in the dark. “If the other gate isn’t covered like this one before we get there.”

  “That’s why we should hurry.”

  They sprinted between headstones tilted over with the weight of centuries that had passed. Daire glanced up at the roof, where a dark figure tracked their movements. Waiting. Was it Malachi? Did the druid know they were here? Daire’s mind still fought the idea that the old man was alive. Then again, he’d seen Roy take his last breath and not long after walk into the house. He hadn’t exactly been alive as such. More like reanimated.

  It was one hugely insane thought. He might think he was stuck in some kind of Frankenstein story if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

  Then there were the men they’d faced in New York. No heat signatures. Dead, and yet walking around. Did that mean Penelope Silver would show up again with murderous intentions?

  Even Ben, with everything he’d gone through, seemed to be having trouble with the fact they were up against a druid who could control nature and the elements.

  The barrier between the seen and the unseen was thinner than most people realized. But this wasn’t angels and demons at war. They were in a battle between good and evil. But Daire had long since come to understand there was nothing holy about his life.

  Yes, he’d been given this existence. A sword for good in the face of so much evil.

  But not because he had done anything to deserve it.

  “Where is it?” Ben pulled up, breathing hard.

  Daire stopped beside him, then took two steps toward the hedge. The place where the gate on this end of the church grounds should have been. “We’re trapped.”

  “Unless we can jump the hedge,” Ben said.

  Daire strode toward it. Every sinew in his body stiffened to pull him back. This was wrong. Not just the fact the hedge seemed to be moving. Daire didn’t want to touch it, or even get near it. If they attempted to jump it, would they be dragged down?

  His whole body flinched and he saw the druid in his mind. Heard the sound of his laughter, flames dancing in his eyes.

  Daire reached toward the hedge. The beam of Ben’s flashlight hit the back of his hand. When his hand reached within two feet of it, the vine of the hedge twisted. Uncurled like fingers stretching from a fist to greet him. Reaching. Grasping for him.

  “Incoming!”

  Daire turned to find Ben had already met the threat. Gun lifted, Ben let off a barrage of shots from his weapon. The two men who’d attacked them were up now, apparently unhurt by the previous bullets.

  These didn’t even slow them down.

  Had they been reanimated like Roy? Daire didn’t give it more thought than that. He grasped the sword under his collar and pulled it from the sheath sewn into the lining of his jacket.

  Daire touched Ben’s right shoulder. The gunshots ceased.

  He squeezed his friend’s shoulder once, and Ben held his position while Daire went in. Two opponents, one to his left and one to the right. He softened his knees, planted his back foot and kicked off the soft earth.

  Daire swung the sword right to left and caught one man across the chest in a lateral slash. He screamed. The second brought his hands up fast enough Daire’s blade sliced across both forearms and hit bone before the force sent the tip into the man’s chest.

  He turned back and took the first man’s head from his body with a single swipe.

  The left hand man barreled toward him, blood soaked. He bleeds? The man’s eyes were full of murderous fire as he screeched. The short distance didn’t give Daire time to bring the sword back around. The man slammed into him.

  They hit the ground.

  He didn’t want to get bitten like Bryn had, so Daire shifted his grip on the sword hilt and slammed it into the guy’s ribs. In the split second of surprise, Daire planted his foot on the ground and rolled them both. He brought the sword up and planted it in the man’s chest.

  It slid in so far he felt it meet a rock buried under the grass.

  He stood.

  “Brother.”

  Daire glanced at Ben and saw the gleam of his teeth in the dark.

  “I’m gonna need you to teach me that.”

  Daire wiped the blade on the grass.

  “How do you get that thing through airport security?”

  “I met a medicine man in Rhodesia a few years ago. When metal detectors started to become a thing.”

  “Maybe you should teach me that too.”

  Daire shook his head. “I’m not proud of it. And I want nothing to do with it anymore.”

  “Have you thought about writing your memoirs?”

  “You think anyone would actually believe the story?” He didn’t wait for Ben to answer. “And I’d rather not have everything I’ve ever done out there for everyone to know, okay? Even if they think it’s fiction.”

  “I hear that.”

  “So let’s just figure out how we’re going to get out of here instead.”

  Ben was quiet. Daire turned to look at him, and saw his friend scratch the stubble on his jaw. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve never really known you?”

  “You know me.”

  “I know that. We have history.”

  Daire snorted.

  “You know what I mean. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  “Since that cave in Beirut.”

  Ben flashed a grin again. “Good times.”

  Daire glanced up at the roof.

  “He’s still there.”

  “Standing guard,” Daire said. “You think he’ll make the team?”

  “I haven’t made my final decision yet.”

  Another black figure crept along the tile roof of the church, coming up fast behind the one observing them. The man seemed not to even notice until the last second. In one twist he snapped the other man’s neck. The body sailed over the edge of the roof and hit the ground in front of them.

  Daire shined his flashlight on the man’s face. “It’s just another one of those things.”

  “What are they?”

  “Acolytes he twisted to do his will. They used to be people, now they’re just mindless beings.”

  “But not like the men you faced in New York?”

  “Those still knew their own minds. They were different somehow.” Daire turned and strode around the church again. There had to be a way out.

  “Why do I feel like you have no idea where you’re going?”

  He spun back. “I’m trying to find an exit.”

  Ben lifted both hands, one still holding his gun. Daire did a circle around the building. The church had been constructed in a cross shape so common in religious sites. He tapped his leg and tried to figure out how they were going to get out of—

  “Whoa!”

  He spun to Ben’s cry and saw the entire tree now bent to his friend. Branches encircled Ben’s body and pierced his arms and legs. He cried out, a scream that echoed across the space between them and bounced off
the stone of the church. Daire swung his sword and severed a branch.

  Ben yelled again. The sound was cut off. He disappeared from view behind branches and leaves.

  Daire hacked again and again. His ears filled with the sound of Ben choking.

  “Malachi!” He called out for his other teammate as loudly as he could, anger feeding the frenzy of his movement. Was he still watching? What kind of teammate just left them to this?

  Daire cut, and cut again, trying to reach his friend. Ben had been drawn to the center of the tree, his back against the trunk. Branches crisscrossed between them, thick enough he could hardly see.

  He swung, and swung again. Every branch that fell was replaced by another.

  Sweat ran down his face. It soaked his shirt. “Ben!”

  The ground beneath him rumbled. Daire ignored it and just kept swinging at the tree, trying to clear a path.

  “Go.” Ben’s voice was soft. Out of breath.

  “No!” They both knew that wasn’t the way things worked.

  He swung again. His arms shook. Daire nearly lost his grip on the sword, but managed to hold onto it.

  The ground rippled.

  The smell of fresh dirt wafted toward him and something fastened around his ankle. He looked down in time to see the ground open beneath him.

  Daire sank into the hole. In a split second it was all around him. Filling in as it poured over him. He gasped against the sensation of being buried alive.

  Pushed against the dirt.

  Dragged down, farther and farther.

  Daire squeezed the hilt of his sword so tightly there would likely be finger grooves in it. If he even got out of this alive.

  His lungs burned. Dirt moved around him as Daire was dragged by his ankle through the earth.

  Help.

  More branches surrounded him, snagging on his legs and arms and around his neck. Choked, just like Ben. The world was black, and pressed down on him. Suffocating him. His head swam. Lights flashed and erupted behind his eyes.

  The branches sliced at his arms like barbed wire. Hundreds of them, all over his body. Slicing up his jacket. His T-shirt. Shredding his pants. Criss-crossing him with wounds that stung and seeped blood into the dirt.

  Bryn.

  Those white lines.

  His thoughts popped like bubbles. They rippled away before he could catch them.

  His foot slammed against something hard. Like stone. Did the wall of the church go underground? His leg folded, and his chest hit his knee. All the air left in his lungs expelled in one breath. The pulling stopped. One leg still straight, covered in a thousand tiny wounds, Daire huddled under the dirt.

  He pushed against the hardness under his boot and tried to stretch out, one way or the other. It was like pushing against a building. Or a concrete block. The dirt was packed tight and pressed down on him. So heavy.

  His consciousness drifted away.

  So quiet.

  So dark.

  I failed.

  How long he remained trapped in the earth, Daire didn’t know. Then the stone under his foot cracked. The force rippled through his legs. A low moan emerged from his throat.

  Voices penetrated his thoughts.

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t answer them.

  Dirt shifted and he hissed against the pain of grit in every wound. This had happened to Bryn. She’d been surrounded by branches that had cut her skin. How much of her body bore those scars he’d seen on her neck?

  He knew this had happened to her. The same way he knew he’d been left here on earth to stand against the druid.

  She’d been pulled into the same evil web, the one Daire had never been able to get out of. And should he try? The Christ had allowed the druid’s magic to prolong Daire’s life. Why else but so that he could face the man down and send him to his judgment?

  “I see him.”

  Daire’s leg was tugged. He cried out, little more than a moan. His body shifted against the tight bands that wrapped around him and cut into his skin.

  “We’ll get you out, buddy,” Ben said. “I can’t believe we found you.”

  The crash of metal against stone. A great crack. The earth gave way. Daire shifted as dirt tumbled around him, onto the floor, while he remained suspended. He felt a blade against his hip and gritted his teeth as they cut through the branches binding his body.

  And then he fell.

  Dirt poured on top of him. Hands grasped his arms and legs. They pulled him across the floor out of the way of the earth coming in through the wall and then they flipped him over. Ben. Malachi.

  “What?” The word was little more than a whisper from his mouth. He couldn’t think straight. Could barely breathe. Air filled his lungs. His head spun with the sudden rush of oxygen. He tried to sit up. To escape.

  Ben set a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, friend.”

  “How…?”

  Malachi crouched. He looked over Daire’s face. “That’s a lot of blood.” He paled. Swallowed.

  “Malachi knew where you were.”

  Their teammate said, “As soon as you were sucked down, the tree gave up. It let Ben go.”

  “Didn’t need me anymore.” Ben didn’t seem all that happy about that fact.

  His thoughts were a jumbled mess. The pain of the cuts was almost overwhelming but he pushed it down to a corner of his mind and forced himself to picture her. Those dark blue eyes that seemed so haunted.

  This had happened to her.

  “Bryn...”

  “You need a doctor, not a woman,” Malachi said. “Unless she has some healing powers we’re not aware of.”

  Daire was the one with healing powers. Not in an instant, but the bleeding had stopped already. He let go of his sword and left the blade on the floor beside him while he looked at his arm. The leather of his jacket had protected him more than he’d thought, given the pain. And the wounds were already starting to close.

  The lines matched Bryn’s. And where his would be gone in a day or two, hers would be there for the rest of her life.

  He looked around.

  “We’re in the church.” Ben held out a hand and helped Daire to his feet. Then he bent and picked up the sword, and handed it over. “This thing doesn’t look like much from up close.”

  The hilt was wrapped with leather strips that had hardened the skin of his right hand. The steel had been overlaid so many times he’d lost count. Still, the years had dulled the sheen of it.

  Daire held out his hand and his friend placed the hilt in his palm. He shifted his grip on it, resting his mind on the feel. The weight of it. Normal was this—holding his weapon. Despite what came at him, and what he was called to, holding his sword and standing beside his friend was home.

  Ben set his hand on Daire’s shoulder and gave him a short nod.

  “We’re not going to talk about what the heck that was?” Malachi lifted his palms up and then dropped them by his sides.

  “He was buried and trapped, but we found him,” Ben said. “You found him.”

  “And if I wasn’t here?”

  “It’s good you were. I, for one, am extremely grateful for that.”

  “It was dumb luck,” Malachi said. “And I don’t even believe in luck.”

  “So I should be dead,” Daire said. “What else is new?”

  “And we’re just going to thank the Powers That Be and move on, is that it?” Malachi glanced between them. “Where’s the book?”

  “Daire is alive,” Ben said. “That’s what counts.”

  He shifted his stance and tucked his elbow tight to his side. It was still there. Where he’d stuck it.

  Ben counted lives as more valuable than the success of the mission—unless the life was his own. Still, Daire was glad that his friend cared enough to be here. Enough to dress down Malachi.

  Their teammate sighed. “We led him right here, and he thoroughly trounced us.”

  Daire frowned at Malachi. “We were trying to keep them out of his hands. And we
didn’t get too busted up in the process.”

  Ben winced and rubbed the skin of his neck.

  “And the third book?” Malachi asked.

  “I entrusted it to a family long ago. Passed down through their lines.” Daire took a breath and took a moment to process the fact this was turning out worse than he’d thought.

  Bested. Twice now. Distracted, sent in every direction.

  At least one good thing had come of this. He shifted and pulled the artifact, wrapped in cloth, from under his jacket.

  “You have it,” Malachi asked.

  Daire unwrapped the book and showed them. “I switched it out of the box for a small stone in the graveyard. If he took the case I dug up, that’s what he got for his trouble.”

  “He tried to bury you alive. And you’d never have gotten free.”

  Daire didn’t want to think about the fact he’d have been trapped underground forever.

  “We have what we came for.” He started for the door, pleading with Providence that the druid retreat now that he thought he’d won this round. “Let’s go. I need to talk to Bryn.”

  Chapter 16

  Reno, Nevada

  The thin scarf Bryn had “borrowed” from Amelia’s winter clothes box covered the wound in her neck. An oversized pair of sunglasses she’d found in the glove compartment completed the snooty-lady look she was going for.

  The woman behind the desk in the hotel hadn’t even blinked when Bryn used the English accent she’d cultivated having watched that nine hour Pride and Prejudice version over and over.

  She checked into this hotel under the name Elizabeth Brynlea with only the bare essentials she’d managed to grab from the room Amelia had put her in, and no clothes. She’d traded Amelia’s ride to a used dealer for three thousand and then walked to downtown Reno. She hit a thrift store on the way and got some clothes and a bag to put them in. A little extra cash to the hotelier and she’d checked in with no ID.

  She’d slept for two days and then checked out.

  By the time she pushed the key card into the lock in the second hotel, her hand shook. Despite the rest she’d had she was still weak. Her legs would give out any moment. Please work. The light turned green and the lock clicked. Bryn let herself in, threw the deadbolt on the door and managed to slip off her shoes before she collapsed on the bed.