The Labyrinth of the Dead

by Sara M. Harvey

  There were maybe a dozen women there, dressed in long white gowns and draped in lace veils that hung to their hems. They knelt before the young woman who had perched herself on a low couch. Kanika wore her power in a shimmering mantle that hung all about her, streaming down her back and pooling around her like a physical thing. Portia had to remind herself that Nigel controlled the girl now, wholly and entirely.

  Behind the couch, a woman stood with head bowed and hands bound before her in chains that ran up under her veil and encircled her neck. Portia recognized her amber flesh. Celestine, the abbess. Beside the couch huddled another woman, smaller in stature and paler of flesh, one of the many veiled maidens of the sanctuary. Her head drooped, defeated, and Kanika petted her idly.

  The other veiled women shied from the intrusion, and Portia immediately looked for Imogen among them.

  "You are so focused, my sweet sister, so devoted," Kanika murmured in a voice that sounded like her own but was riddled with Nigel’s inflections.

  "I am not here for you. I am only here for her."

  "And I am here because of you both. There is still time, my dearest sister, still a chance to help me in this endeavor. We three could rule this world and that of the living. Think of that. No more hiding in shadows, no more taking orders from the clandestine Primacy. We would be the governors of our own fates." Kanika sat up with a cat’s smile, twiddling a pair of chains. One was connected to Celestine, but the other snaked away from the couch and along the floor. The coin shivered toward it and the heat in Portia’s chest answered.

  Portia tried to follow it with her eyes, but it was obscured among the veils of the frightened spirits before her. Imogen could not be among these cringing ingénues. She could never bend her head in supplication to Nigel, no matter whose face he wore.

  The tower shivered, and the corona of light above them increased in intensity.

  "Nigel—"

  "Oh, call me Kanika. You say that name with such love. Such love that it made me begin to question your dedication to your lover. Does she know how precious I have become to you, Portia darling?"

  "Kanika was just a girl who needed Gyony protection. Is she lost to us now? That poor sweet child?"

  "Not so sweet as you might imagine. There was a reason her soul was easy to snatch, to melt and remold, to carry my spirit within it instead. Kanika was no innocent, I assure you."

  "And what now? You are the Queen of the Here-After. All of Salus lies at your feet, in ruins."

  "I am finishing what I began years ago, and you have been such good help, Portia." She glanced up, and the light took on a prismatic glow, swirling like the aurora borealis. "It won’t be long now. And then, what? Will you join me in triumph or will I be forced to dispatch with you instead?"

  Celestine shook her head and the chains whispered against her flesh. Without a backward glance, Kanika snapped her wrist forward and yanked the woman to her knees. "See how she is the one who kneels before me in this place? She is the mistress of it no longer."

  "You won’t find my legs so accommodating to bend to you."

  "So tart, Portia. You might want to mind your tongue. I do not take kindly to termagants." Kanika struck the small woman who crouched beside her, knocking her veil askew and sending her long brown braid whipping around her shoulders. The brunette fell gracelessly, striking her jaw against the floor. A spatter of bronze blood splashed from her mouth.

  "She would not keep her opinions to herself." Kanika plucked a shadow-gold coin from the front of her blouse. She rolled it between her knuckles, just like Nigel used to, back and forth several times before taking it between her thumb and forefinger. "I hadn’t realized it was so easy to do. Just closed her tongue in my hand and squeezed. It came away with hardly a sound and only the smallest trickle of blood. It was so easy. I was surprised Belial stopped where she did." Her gaze rested on the coin hanging from Portia’s axe, then trickled down the silver chain that lead to Imogen.

  Portia pounced on it, yanking it from Kanika’s hands. The girl merely laughed and made no effort to retrieve the restraint. "Go on. You hold her leash now. What will you do with it?" Crossing her legs, she propped her elbows on her knees and grinned. "She is the key to all of this and always has been. You’ve got a choice to make. I’ll wait."

  Portia wrapped the chain loosely over her wrist, tracing it through the huddled women. She came to a small door at the far side of the room. Glancing back, she saw Kanika watching her, a curious smile playing across lips that Portia had once found endearing.

  Portia turned her back on the girl and opened the door.

  —10—

  SHE WAS alone in the room with a silver chain wrapping both ankles and snaking up her legs to where it vanished beneath the veil.

  "Imogen," Portia whispered.

  The young woman stirred but did not answer.

  "Imogen." Gathering more strength behind her voice, Portia shut the door behind her and came slowly across the room. "My love. Speak to me."

  Her head turned, tilted to one side as if listening. "Who is there?"

  Portia fell to her knees beside her, dropping the axe onto the floor, and touched her shoulder. "It’s me, Imogen. It’s Portia."

  She flinched at the touch. "Portia?" The name seemed foreign in her mouth, although it was a word that she had uttered in tenderness so many times before.

  "Yes, love. We’re going to go home."

  She shook her head. "Impossible."

  "No." Portia drew back the veil. "No, it’s not."

  Imogen covered her face with her hands, the chains chiming. "But it is. I am not Imogen."

  "I would know you anywhere. Even when you might not know yourself."

  She sighed. "I may have been Imogen once, but not any longer."

  "Shhh, don’t say that." Tenderly, Portia pulled Imogen’s hands into her own. "You are and always will be my own true love. Nothing can change that. Not time, nor death."

  "You are optimistic." Her head was still turned away, with her chin tucked down against her shoulder. "But if anyone could, it would be you. I have seen what you are capable of."

  Portia found herself smiling. "I am Gyony. Just like you."

  Imogen raised her face, returning the smile sadly. "Gyony," she echoed. "Yes. I know what that means. Family."

  "Yes. And they’re waiting for you. For both of us." Portia stood and extended her hand. "Let’s get you out of these chains and show Nigel that if we can kill him once, we can kill him again."

  Imogen remained where she was, still gazing blankly ahead.

  Portia reached out toward her again. "Come on."

  It took two tries for Imogen to connect with Portia’s outstretched fingers, and as she was helped to her feet, Portia could finally see why. Imogen’s perfect meadow green eyes were gone. In their stead were only sockets filled with darkness. Portia remembered the vision she’d had, where shadows strange and deep had clung to Imogen’s face, obscuring her eyes. She had not understood what it meant before. Anger boiled within her, but she pressed her lips soothingly to Imogen’s cheek.

  "Oh, my love," Portia whispered. "They will pay for what they have done to you. Belial, Analise, Nigel, all of them. I swear it."

  "The axe."

  "What?"

  "The axe." Imogen crouched down and groped for it, finally catching the pierced coin in her hand. She snapped it free and let it lie on her palm. "Belial watched you through my eyes. From the moment Kanika put that axe in your hands, she knew your every step. And so did I."

  "Imogen…"

  With the coin clenched in her palm, it seemed that Imogen could see. She threw her arms around Portia with confidence. Gently, she ran her fingers across the sturdy feathers of Portia’s trembling wings. "They suit you, you know. I always wished for them when I was a girl, to be a proper angel and all."

  Portia shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "They serve their purpose, when they are not in the way."

  "They do suit you, my heart."


  Out in the main hall, a terrible racket sounded through the door. Portia could hear Nigel swearing loudly in Kanika’s voice.

  Imogen kissed her with a tenderness that barely covered the raw emotion beneath. "Why is it that we never have the time?"

  The chain rattled, spooling out quickly. Imogen tensed, readying herself for the jolt as it yanked her toward the door.

  "Hold still." Portia snatched up the axe and swung with all her might, severing the chain with a spark a few feet from Imogen’s ankles. "Do you trust me?"

  "Haven’t I always?"

  "Spread your legs."

  "I am sure you have a halfway decent reason for this, for this is hardly a time to be indecent, sadly." Still, she did as she was told, standing with her feet as far apart as she could manage. Portia struck the chains free from her legs and carefully unwrapped them. Gently, she unthreaded the shackles from Imogen’s wrists, caressing them gently as she touched them, and finally from around her neck, letting her fingers stray into the soft curls that nestled at the base of Imogen’s skull.

  The shriek from outside the door intruded in their reverie. It was followed by a heartrending sob.

  Imogen shivered in response. "These women have cared for me. Even though they knew they brought danger into their midst, they welcomed me."

  "I think that Celestine might not be as saintly as you give her credit. No one here acts out of charity alone. She stood to benefit from all of this; perhaps she still does." Portia frowned. "I think I understand at least some of it now. We have to stop this. Are you ready?"

  "As ready as I can be. But Portia, I can’t do what I did before. I haven’t the magic. I can’t even see!"

  "Yes, you do have the magic."

  "No, I don’t. Without the sigils and the incantations, I am useless."

  "Imogen, listen to me. Those are things of the mortal world. Those were the gateways that allowed you to touch your spirit, your true nature. We are born of angels—why do we need sorcery? You are all spirit now, with no body to trouble you. Call on the power, and it will be there."

  Portia’s own words haunted her. The gateway. Imogen was the gateway between the living and the dead. Her body still breathed somewhere in Penemue, yet her Nephilim soul wandered the shadow-side. And everyone wanted to use her for their own gain.

  Banishing those thoughts, Portia reached into the front of her corset. "Maybe this will help."

  In the small velvet bag was a necklace. Portia had guarded it with her life since stepping through to the shadow-side. It was the most precious thing she carried.

  Although it was a simple trinket hung on an old chain, Portia could see the waves of power that rose from it. Like the fine smoky strands of incense, the magic encircled Imogen, making her seem more corporeal.

  "I brought this for you."

  Imogen stood breathless with surprise. She squeezed the coin in her hand, as if the pressure on it would let her see more clearly. "Where did you find this?"

  "In the ashes of the convent. When I went back for Nigel’s books. It was in a box amid his things."

  Trembling, she reached out for it. "I was wearing it the night I…died."

  Portia nodded. "I only realized that after I found it. I never thought it meant so much to you." She held the chain up and the little tarnished charm twisted slowly. A heart-shaped padlock with a keyhole at its center.

  Imogen laughed, joy brightening her face. "Of course it meant something to me! You worked so hard to win it that day at the village fair." She blushed. "Our first date."

  "Take it."

  Imogen seemed afraid to touch the necklace, as if her hand might pass through it, but when Portia dropped it into her palm, it sat there firmly. "Do you have…?"

  Portia chewed her lip almost sheepishly and shook the bag. Out fell an equally tarnished key charm attached to a ragged ribbon. The heart-shaped key head bore a dozen empty indentations that had once held tiny paste gems.

  "Oh, you did keep it! You told me you lost it!"

  "I wish I hadn’t said that. I was just so afraid of being too sentimental. I always wanted to tell you that I’d kept it. But the time was never right." She felt thirteen years old again, blushing and tongue-tied and desperate to be the perfect Gyony: resolute, tough, and utterly untouched by such weaknesses as love and sentiment. "If I could go back, I would never have hidden it from you. I would never have lied. You deserved better from me. I’m sorry."

  "Portia, you idiot!" Imogen threw her arms around her neck and kissed her hard on the mouth. "You headstrong, exhausting idiot!" Tears gathered at the edges of her empty eye sockets and ran down her face in haphazard rivulets. "By all the saints in heaven, I love you. And I never believed for a moment that you lost the key. You are a terrible liar and always have been."

  "You knew?" Portia’s blushed deepened. "But why didn’t you call my bluff?"

  Imogen shrugged and smothered a giggle. "Who am I to blow your big, mean, brusque cover? Heaven forefend that Portia Penemue, star prospect of House Gyony, lose her tough, warrior credibility because she wore a key-to-your-heart charm on a pink ribbon around her wrist!"

  "The ribbon is mauve," Portia said. "At least it was, once. Appears to have gone a bit brownish-grey these days. Here, let me help you. We don’t have much time." Portia lifted Imogen’s thick red hair from her neck, holding it away from her body while Imogen fumbled at the clasp with shaking hands. After they had both tugged on it and found it secure, Portia stepped back and smiled. "It’s lovely. Still lovely after all these years."

  "I can’t believe you found it in the ashes."

  "It was calling my name, I swear. It just glittered in the light, amid all the ruins."

  Imogen reached out a little uncertainly and took the key charm from Portia. Even with the coin in her hand, her sight was shaky. "Your turn."

  Portia allowed Imogen to wrap the ribbon around her left wrist a few times before tying it snugly. The tiny charm felt cool against her skin, like a memory.

  "Sweet sisters," came Kanika’s haunting call. "I don’t appreciate the company you brought here!"

  They could hear the muffled sounds of battle from beyond the door.

  Portia hefted the axe, ready to fight. "Duty calls," she said.

  "Duty always calls," Imogen sighed.

  "Can you fight?"

  "I can hardly see." She looked around for someplace to keep the coin where it would be safe and still touch her skin.

  "I need you to trust me again" Portia took Imogen’s hand and held it to her mouth, kissing her delicate knuckles.

  "Always," Imogen whispered in reply.

  It was easier than she had thought it would be. Once the thought came to her, making it a reality was simple. Portia slipped her fingertips under her eyelid and plucked loose her left eye. It came away with small resistance and an audible pop, but she felt no pain. The blood-touched sphere glowed softly as she pressed it gently into Imogen’s empty socket. With a fine caress, Portia smoothed and settled the skin around it, pressing the palm of her hand over it in blessing. Light blossomed there a moment, and Imogen gasped.

  "What do you see?"

  "I see you, all of you…you brought your body! You don’t belong here like this. How did you manage, Portia?"

  "It’s a long story, fit for another time. Here, hold still. I need to give you the other."

  "But how will you see?"

  "Because I can do something you can’t. Watch." Portia repeated her actions, taking her right eye and seating it into the hungry hollow in her beloved’s skull. The world went terrifyingly dark. "Imogen, give me the coin."

  Portia could feel her trepidation as Imogen pressed the coin into her hand with trembling fingers. "You can still take this back, my love. You don’t need to do this."

  Imogen’s bare feet sighed against the floor and Portia found she could also hear the whisper of her gown against her flesh.

  "Shhh," she reached out and found Imogen’s lips, silencing her with a
touch of her forefinger. "I know I don’t need to, but I want to. I can give us both sight. And this way, we will not be one without the other. Wherever you go, I will be with you. And now, the same will be true of me."

  Portia put the coin on her tongue and swallowed it whole. At first, it lodged in her throat, as if fighting her intentions. Then it began to melt, to form into a tiny, intense ball of light like the ones she had seen whisked away to this very tower.

  Eyes of Imogen, power of sight, you are mine and none other’s. You will be servant to my will, spirit of my soul, tissue of my flesh. By my birthright I command you. What I freely gave, you shall replace. I bind you to me in body, in soul, in this plane and the next. So by my will, forever, be married to my flesh, my blood, my mind, and my soul.

  Portia was aware of the light. It grew steadily brighter, surrounding her. And when she opened her eyes, she saw what she had done.

  The floor of the tower was translucent and glittering, as if they stood on nothing more than a whim of the air. Imogen, too, was a glimmering thing, all soft light and dim shadow with nothing solid about her but a set of auburn eyes and a silvery heart-shaped pendant.

  Portia gazed beyond the insubstantial walls that surrounded them and saw that the city of Salus had crumbled entirely into soot and ruins. Above, the brilliant soul-light streamed upward, passing them in waves like a waterfall running uphill. Portia swayed on her feet and shut her eyes against the tremendous sight. She felt Imogen’s cool hands on her shoulders, steadying her and giving her strength. They intertwined their fingers for a moment. When Portia looked around again, she saw the blood seeping in under the door, turning the prismatic floor to stone. The tower shuddered and the blood spread a little bit more.

  Portia’s brow furrowed.

  "What do you see, love?" said Imogen.