Rory launched himself from the bed, and threw himself at the revenant.
But it flickered and suddenly wasn't where it had been a moment ago. Rory hit the concrete wall. Hard.
Stunned, he took a moment to recover. The blow seemed to knock the breath out of him.
In the top bunk, Gwydion rolled over, awake now.
“What the hell?” He said, sounding confused and sleepy.
The revenant rematerialized in the room. It had lost its grin. Gwydion's eyes widened as he realized, impossibly, what was happening in front of him. He didn't move.
The creature came after Rory again, leading with the knife.
“Down!” Gwydion shouted, recovering much more quickly than I would have.
Rory dropped, in time to completely avoid the knife. The blade hit the wall and shattered into a cloud of smoke.
Rory pushed himself backwards and his back hit the edge of the toilet hard enough to make me wince. He seemed to not notice it.
Rory muttered something until his breath, some kind of incantation. He started drawing a pattern in the air, but he wasn't fast enough.
Infuriated, the revenant grabbed Rory by his shirt and lifted him off his feet with one hand. Rory was still trying to incant something and trace a pattern in the air.
The revenant slammed him to the wall.
The knife began to rematerialize in its hand.
Gwydion jumped out of the bed. He stumbled as he landed on the floor. The revenant didn't notice, it was too fixated on Rory.
I wanted to scream at him to get away, but I was mute with terror. Besides, he was trapped in a jail cell. There was nowhere to get away to.
Rory tried for another spell, but the revenant slammed him in the concrete again, knocking the breath out of him. The knife flickered in the it's hand and then, an instant later, it seemed to solidify.
The revenant grinned, triumphant.
It brought the knife down, aiming for Rory's chest.
Gwydion lunged forward and grabbed its arm in mid-swing.
The revenant missed for a second time, but this time the knife didn't shatter when it hit the wall. Enraged, it batted at my brother like he was nothing.
Gwydion flew across the room, his hip striking the bottom bunk hard enough to vibrate the bed.
In horror, I watched as my brother struggled to push himself back up.
He has no weapons, I thought desperately. He has nothing at his disposal to fight this thing – what is he thinking? He's going to get himself killed.
“The salt!” Rory choked out, “Throw the salt at it.”
The revenant slammed Rory into the concrete again. The back of his head hit the wall with a thud that made my stomach turn.
The life seemed to slump out of Rory.
Gwydion plunged his hand underneath Rory's mattress and pulled it back out, clutching a fist full of salt. Rory must have opened all of the salt packets and poured them directly onto the bed frame.
The revenant had given up on the knife, it seemed. Instead, he was preparing to slam Rory into the wall again. This time, I knew that the blow would kill him.
Gwydion threw the salt.
The effect was instantaneous.
With a shriek, the revenant released Rory. He dropped to the ground, dazed but not unconscious.
The revenant...unwound itself. There was no other way to describe it. The human man it had looked like dissolved into thin tendrils of smoke. The pieces of it were distinct ribbons of pale white threading through the darkness.
Gwydion dropped to Rory's side, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the mass of white smoke in the center of the cell.
Rory, though swaying dangerously, held up one of his hands, his fingers splayed out. He spoke an incantation in that strange guttural-sounding language that I was, by now, far too familiar with. He drew a pattern in the air, something that looked almost like a tic-tac-toe board. Or like a cage. A light bloomed in the center of his palm.
In the same instant, the tendrils of smoke were encased with an identical light.
Gwydion looked sharply from Rory to the creature in front of them. From the look on his face, it was clear that he couldn't believe his eyes.
Rory finished his incantation. It seemed to take everything he had, because the moment the last word escaped his lips, he slumped against Gwydion.
The creature in the center of the room let out a piercing shriek and the light surrounding it intensified until it was blinding. And then it was simply gone, as though it had never been there in the first place.
Gwydion watched it all, his eyes wide with disbelief and horror. And then Rory, close to unconsciousness, gave pained moan in his arms.
Gwydion's eyes snapped down to Rory. He didn't hesitate.
“I need help in here!”
The memory faded into nothing, until we were looking at an endless expanse of darkness and fog once more.
I stared into the darkness. I could feel Rory's eyes on me, but I didn't turn to look at him.
My brother had risked his own life to protect Rory’s, without even having to think about it. Rory had called Gwydion a hero. And he had been right.
And I was faced with the sudden realization that, even though Gwydion had already done the unspeakable to protect me, that I had never – not once – seen him that way.
In the back of my mind, I had always wondered if what he had done was really about me at all, or if it had been all about saving himself from our uncle. It shouldn't have mattered either way, but it did. Gwydion had reacted so quickly when our uncle finally turned his attention to me. He had known exactly where our uncle stashed his gun. Like he’d been planning to kill him all along.
On some level, I had always wondered if Gwydion would have killed him either way. It was the same part of me that carried the guilt for what had become of my brother afterward. A part of me wanted to believe it, because if it wasn’t true, it meant that he really had killed our uncle to protect me. It would have meant that everything that had come after was because me.
And now I knew. Gwydion's first instinct, even when it was impossible, even when it might cost him everything, was to protect others. Even strangers.
Guilt washed through me. For a moment, it was almost overwhelming.
And then, little by little, I realized that I felt something else as well: relief.
Though I had always loved him, I had turned my brother into a kind of monster in my mind. I had never allowed myself to see what he had done clearly, why he had reacted that way to save me when I could never have done the same for him. Somehow, I had settled on the fact that we were different in some quintessential way, that he was more capable of darkness than I was. It was a conviction I'd never even known I had, up until now.
Yes, I realized, Gwydion and I were different in a quintessential way, but it wasn't in the way I had thought. He was willing to sacrifice everything to protect those around him. I wasn't.
Or, at least, I hadn't been. Until now.
I had risked everything to come here. To save him.
The last of my doubt fell away, and with it, a bit of the darkness I hadn't even known I had possessed, that I had always carried with me. Because I suddenly knew, with absolute certainty, that I had made the right choice in coming here. That risking everything to save my brother was the right thing to do. Up until now, I had believed that my brother was worth saving, that there was a goodness in him that was mixed in with the darkness. Now I knew it with an absolute conviction I had never possessed before.
I knew that I'd made the choice for him that he would have made for me.
I turned back to Rory.
“He is a hero,” I said, my throat burning with emotion. “I hadn’t known. Thank you for showing me that.”
“That isn't the half of it. Your brother cares about people, Kendra. It seems like you have that in common.”
“What happened…after?”
“Why? He helped you!”
“It's standard operating procedure for us,” Rory explained. His voice was calm, but there was a faraway look in his dark eyes. “Anyone who sees magic has to forget it. It's the only way that we can stay under the radar, the only way we can protect our secret.”
“Gwydion wouldn't have told anyone.”
“I know that,” Rory said. “He had plenty of opportunities to, and he didn't. I had passed out. I wasn’t there to come up with a story to explain our injuries. Everyone in the jail just assumed that he’d attacked me. It seemed pretty obvious, since I was the banged up one. They gave him more jail time for it. Put him in with the violent offenders. It happened pretty quickly, actually. Before we could fix it. And the entire time, he didn’t breathe a word to save himself.”
“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh no.”
“Don’t worry,” Rory said, suddenly grinning at me. His eyes were dancing with strange emotions I couldn’t decipher. “He wasn't there long. I went back for him. Gwydion doesn't have a criminal record either, anymore.”
“Why did you go back for him?”
“Well, I couldn't just leave him there. They were talking attempted murder charges. Because he'd helped me fight that thing and stopped it from killing anyone else.” He seemed to grope for words for a moment, then he continued, “He saved my life, Kendra. I would have died in that cell, if it hadn't been for him. I figured I owed him. I couldn't make everything right for him, but I could help him fix some of it. Enough that he'd be able to do the rest on his own. Enough that he'd be able to live like a regular person again.”
I'd been right. Rory had healed him
“That's how he recovered so quickly,” I said quietly, not quite sure what I was feeling. “He's been in and out of rehab all his life. Nothing has ever stuck.”
“I know,” Rory said, sighing. He added, “But your brother stayed that way under his own power.”
“And somewhere along the way, you fell love with him?”
“Something like that. Although, I think that maybe I loved him all along.” Rory said, pain darting across his face. “And my coven punished me for it. For loving him. For trusting him.”
I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I didn't.
A sudden silence dragged on between us. I glanced over at Rory and saw a storm of emotions on his face. Rory seemed to wrestling with something.
Finally, he stopped and turned to face me. My heart skipped a beat in fear. Something important had just changed between us. The look in his eyes was strange and imploring.
“Kendra, there's something I need to tell you. I wasn't completely honest earlier—”
Rory broke off in mid-sentence, his eyes widening.
I followed his gaze. A door had appeared directly in front of us, blocking the path completely.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nothing I had seen so far in the underworld have driven such cold dread into me, as the sudden appearance of the door blocking our path. Not because it was unfamiliar, but because I knew the door all too well. I'd only seen it once before, but it was seared into my brain. It was the door to the viewing room at the Hollow Hill mortuary. I'd passed through this door, hand in hand with Gwydion, on the day we buried our parents. The sight of it drove everything else out of my mind.
It was one of those study wooden doors that have a frosted window built into them, like an old fashioned private eye office from a black and white film noir. The wood was stained a dark mahogany color and the window was frosted blue-green glass. Simple black lettering was stamped on the glass: viewing room. The font was severe, with thick black lines, with no fussy serifs that might distract you, even for an instant, from the fact that you were about to step into a chamber of horrors. The ground just in front of the door was covered with checkered burgundy carpet. The sight of it made my stomach twist with a familiar dread.
“You recognize the door,” Rory said, watching me. He seemed to have forgotten what he was about to tell me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, swallowing hard.
“We can take a minute,” Rory said. “But we have to go through the door. You know that, right?”
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak.
I tried to steel myself against what I was about to see, but every fiber of my being was screaming me not to step through the door.
“It's not real,” I whispered, trying to steady myself.
Wisely, Rory made no indication that he'd heard me speak. He merely waited for me.
I took a deep, steadying breath. Then, before I lost my nerve, I stepped forward, grasped the cool metal of the doorknob, and threw the door open. It opened easily, swinging inward without a sound.
Though we were standing outside, and I knew that the door was somehow free-standing and not actually connected to anything, the space inside the doorway opened to a large enclosed room.
Slowly, I raised my gaze and looked everywhere but at the center of the room. Dark wood paneling, the same color as the door, lined the bottom half of the walls inside the room. The top half was a pale pink wallpaper decorated with a faint checkered pattern that matched the carpet. There were neat rows of chairs with metal legs and uncomfortable vinyl seats, many of which were cracked by time and use. They were arranged around a central walkway that led to the far wall of the room. I avoided following the path with my eyes. I knew exactly where it would lead and I wasn't quite ready to see it yet.
Every bone in my body screamed in protest, but I stepped through the door anyway. Gwydion had already done this by himself, if Rory could be believed. We were retracing Gwydion's footsteps and the only way forward was to enter the memory.
“Wait!” Rory cried, stepping forward suddenly, reaching out to grab my arm. “We have to go togeth—”
Whatever he was saying was cut off abruptly.
Startled, I turned back, but I was already over the threshold. For a split second, I saw Rory in the door frame, reaching for me.
My heart froze in my chest.
There was someone or something standing just behind him, close enough to touch.
I couldn't make out any features, or even tell if the figure was male or female, as it looked to be constructed entirely from darkness. I sensed cold eyes piercing into me.
At once, I knew that whatever it was that had materialized behind Rory, it was cold and unfeeling, utterly devoid of compassion. It was a nightmare creature, like the ones he'd warned me about. And it was there, just behind him on the path.
I tried to call out to him, to warn him.
It was too late.
The door didn't close, but it was somehow already shut, as though it had been closed all along.
Horrified, I stared at the door for a long moment, letting the realization sink in.
I was alone. Worse still, Rory was alone. With whatever that thing was.
I tried the handle, but it wouldn't turn.
Horrible things flashed through my mind about what was happening on the other side of the door, inspired by every horror movie I'd ever seen. What would it do to him?
Nothing good, of that I was certain. I'd only seen it for a split second, but I had seen it clearly. And more than that, I'd somehow sensed it in a way I couldn't quite explain. And it was like the revenant, like the creature that had destroyed the original town. It wasn't natural.
He's been here before, I thought desperately, trying to reassure myself. And he's a witch. He'll probably do a spell – he held off the entire coven with barely any effort all. He'll be fine.
I didn't quite manage to convince myself.
But an even worse realization sunk in: I was no longer alone.
I turned s
lowly.
There were suddenly rows of people seated on either side of me. Everyone was dressed in black. Most of them were looking forward, blank-faced and silent, as though stunned. Several people nearby were crying quietly. Then an elderly woman looked over, peering at me with ice-blue eyes. She leaned over and whispered something to the person next to her. Another elderly woman, this one in a large black hat draped in a veil, turned to look at me. Her hand rose to her mouth in surprise.
The door crashed open behind me. I turned, feeling a surge of relief, expecting to see Rory. Instead, the seven year old version of my brother stood in the doorway, his chest heaving and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He was wearing a black suit that was a shade too small for him. His black shoes were shined like mirrors. His unruly hair was slicked back. Seeing me, he ran forward and took my hand. His hand was cold in mine.
“Miss Stone is right behind me,” He whispered, leaning close to me. “She doesn't want us to see them. We need to hurry.”
Everything came rushing back: Ms. Stone was the social worker who had brought us here, so that we could be with family. It was misguided of her. The only family we had left was our uncle Greg. However, she'd kept a close eye on us and hadn't wanted us in the viewing room. She'd told us that it was no place for children. She'd been looking at Gwydion when she'd said it. A kind soul might have assumed that she was worried for him, that seeing our parents might have a bad effect on him. Gwydion and I knew better; she was afraid of what he might do.
I nodded slowly, “Yes,” I said softly. “We must hurry.”
Still holding hands, we turned and started toward the far end of the room. Hand in hand with Gwydion, I finally allowed myself a glance at the far end of the room, where the caskets were arranged side by side. They were slightly elevated on platforms. Usually for funeral viewings, the casket is positioned horizontally, but these ones were positioned vertically, facing the room. Maybe it was because there were two of them, but the effect reminded me of every Dracula movie I'd ever seen. The caskets were dark and polished to a mirror shine. The fabric lining was a pale cream satin. Both caskets were surrounded by subdued arrangements of flowers. The scent of roses, sickly sweet and cloying, was overwhelming. The frozen faces of our parents stared sightlessly at us from poster-sized photographs positioned on either side of the coffins.
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