by R. L. King
Stone didn’t have time to worry about them, though. Verity and Amber were still approaching, along with the four zombies. Padgett had moved around the back of the circle, still chanting and waving her arms in intricate patterns. It was hard to see in here, but it looked like she was inside the shield.
Where the hell was Brathwaite? Even with magical sight up, Stone couldn’t spot him floating around anywhere in the room.
“What’s the plan, Dad?” Ian called. He was panting, but it seemed to be with exhilaration, not fear or exhaustion.
“Keep the shield up. We’ve got to hold off Verity and Amber without hurting them.” He waved his hand, picking up an old desk and using it to bull two of the zombies backward and away from them.
“You won’t stop us now, Stone!” Miriam Padgett screamed. “You should have died before, like the rest of your accursed line!”
Stone kept hold of the desk, using it to shove the zombies away. Amber, her eyes burning with rage, dived at him, but the shield was strong enough to hold her off.
“Amber, you’ve got to fight it!” he yelled at her. “Jason’s in danger! You’ve got to throw this off and help him!” His thoughts were fragmented now as he tried to cope with multiple inputs, but Padgett’s words confused him. What did she mean about his line? How did she ever know about his line? Had Brathwaite told her? Where the hell was he, anyway? He should be here somewhere. He—
And then, all at once, he knew.
The image from his nightmare returned, of Brathwaite’s ghostly form pausing as it passed through Padgett’s. He almost smacked himself in the head for being so thick, for not catching on before.
“Bloody hell!” he yelled to Ian. “Padgett’s Brathwaite!”
“Huh?” Ian sent another zombie tumbling head over heels into a wall.
“That’s how she’s doing all this! That’s how she learned so fast! Brathwaite’s echo is possessing her!”
“Holy shit!”
Stone’s heart was pounding hard now. He had no idea how it was possible, but it was the only explanation that made sense. “I’ve got to stop that ritual. Can you handle the zombies on your own?”
“I’ll do it. You go.”
Stone snatched another glance toward the other side of the room. Padgett (Brathwaite, he told himself) was preoccupied, gesturing faster, almost as if she (he?) were trying to step up the ritual’s pace. Her (his!) face was lit with the eerie green from the candles and the wards around the circle, drawn and almost inhuman.
“Brathwaite!” Stone screamed, pushing forward. “I know who you are! I know what you’ve done!”
Brathwaite’s thin face lit up with an unholy grin. “Bravo, Stone. Took you long enough. Can’t talk now, though.” He returned to this chanting.
From the other side of the circle, behind Brathwaite, came a loud roar of pain. Lane had flung Jason into the back wall and was leaping forward, pressing his advantage. Tani still hung on his back, digging bloody furrows into his shoulders and his neck. She didn’t look civilized anymore—more like a savage animal.
But now Amber, who’d been pounding her fists against Stone’s shield, stopped. Her chin jerked up, her gaze darting away from Stone and back toward Jason. He was on the ground now, trying to get back up as Lane loomed over him.
She looked at Stone.
She looked at Jason.
Confusion wreathed her features for a second, and then, suddenly, her gaze locked in.
Smoldering rage lit her eyes.
She roared, almost like a real bear, and then she was gone, dashing back toward her fallen mate.
“Yes!” Stone cried in triumph. That was one down—or rather, one back on their side.
But the zombies were still coming. Ian had picked up another piece of furniture and was using it to swipe them away, but nothing he or Stone had done showed any signs of injuring them. And now the three from the hallway had figured out the door and were pushing in.
“Ian!” he yelled. “Levitate! Get above them and keep them off me!”
“Got it!” Instantly, Ian flew up into the air. The ceiling here was at least fifteen feet high. He continued peppering the zombies with spells, using the desk to shove them back toward the walls.
Stone watched only long enough to make sure the zombies couldn’t jump—they apparently couldn’t—and then focused his attention on the circle. He needed to disrupt the ritual. Everything else was secondary. He gathered energy and pointed his hands at it, preparing to unleash another blast of Calanarian power at it and hopefully overload it.
Something slammed into his shield, flinging him backward. He hit the wall hard and went down. The shield blocked most of the impact, but as he scrambled back up he saw Verity, her eyes cold and angry, aiming another spell at him.
Damn. She was still under Lane’s control, even though he had his hands full dealing with Jason and Tani, and now she was coming after him. The two other mages still seemed to be focused on the ritual, but they were snatching glances toward him. They could break free and join the fight at any moment.
“Verity!” he yelled. “Come on—it’s me. Fight it! You fought it before!”
She kept coming, showing no sign of recognition.
How had she managed to fight Lane’s influence before? That had been three years ago! She was far more powerful now. How could she—
His memory flashed back to that time, when they’d fought Lane, the late Hugo, and Richter at the house in Woodside. He remembered him looming over her, threatening—
Of course. The threat had been much more immediate then. Lane and Hugo, the male versions of what Deirdre had been, didn’t take energy from sex or seduction. They took it from rape. And that was what Lane had been intending to do to her at the time. No wonder she’d fought harder against it. “Verity!” he yelled, louder. “Fight it! I know you can do it!”
From the other side of the room came another yelp of pain—but this time it wasn’t Jason. Amber, free now of Lane’s influence, had joined the fray. Between her, Jason, and Tani, they had him pressed against the wall like a boxer on the ropes.
Roaring, he flung his arms out—the man was strong, possibly stronger than either Jason or Amber—sending both of them careening off to either side. They tumbled away, stunned, and two of the zombies changed direction to go after them.
But that left an opening for Tani. Moving like a rabid monkey, she crawled around from his back to his front, ripping at his throat with her long fingernails. He screamed, blood flying in all directions, and flailed at her, trying to get a grip on her so he could pull her off. But her thin, spring-steel body was tougher than it looked, and she hung on like she’d been stuck there with industrial-strength glue.
Verity flung another spell at Stone, forcing him to look away. He used a concussion blast to blow her back as gently as he could. “Ian! Do something! I’ve got to take out the shield around this ritual!”
Ian was still dealing with the zombies, but he changed focus to hit Verity with another spell. “I can’t hold them all! Somebody’s got to take Lane down!”
Stone dashed across the room, taking advantage of Ian’s diversion as Verity struggled back to her feet. He ran around the far side of the circle, using a concussion blast to knock one of the remaining zombies away from him.
The mage on that side flung a spell at him, but it bounced off his shield like a fly hitting a windshield.
“Don’t even try it!” he yelled with a manic grin, throwing one of his own in reply. The Calanarian energy sang through him, ripping into the mage and sending him careening into the shield around the circle. He staggered and dropped, and Stone kept going.
Lane was holding his own against Tani, Jason, and Amber, but not by much. His whole upper body was soaked with blood now, his pink T-shirt and neat blond hair stained with it. His muscles bulged as he threw off each of his attackers, but every time he got one away from him, another surged in and took up the assault.
Stone skidded to a stop, staring in
shock. All three of his friends looked more like animals than people now. Tani’s eyes blazed with feral madness, Jason’s glare was focused and cold, and Amber’s bearish nature had taken her fully over. None of them seemed to even notice Stone nearby as they all continued ripping into the increasingly desperate Lane.
“You’ve got to kill him!” Stone yelled. “He’s still got Verity!” He jerked a glance toward the other side of the circle, where Ian, still floating, was trying to deal with several zombies and Verity, who was throwing spells at him. As he watched in horror, one of the zombies picked up a steel crate and threw it at Ian.
“Ian!” he screamed, but it was too late. The crate slammed into him. His shield flared and died, and then he was falling.
Stone acted without thinking, Lane and his attackers forgotten. He managed to get a telekinesis spell off, grabbing Ian before he hit the ground—but he was still on the other side of the room, while the zombies and Verity were not.
“Kill him!” he yelled over his shoulder, running toward his son. “Break his hold on Verity!”
Inside the circle, Brathwaite/Padgett was chanting faster, with more intensity. Something was amplifying his voice, sending booming syllables echoing around the chamber. Even hearing them made Stone’s skin crawl. Whatever Brathwaite was doing, there was definitely necromancy involved. As he flashed by, he saw the fluid in the tubing was red and glowing. Inside the circle, Richter continued to float, bobbing serenely as the glowing fluid entered his body.
“Get him!” Brathwaite yelled. “I can hold this!”
Immediately, the two mages, including the one Stone had taken down, leaped free of the circle and began peppering Stone with spells.
Stone didn’t stop. “You need better help, Brathwaite!” He pulled up short as the zombies converged around Ian, and used a massive concussion beam to fling them away from his son.
“I’m okay,” Ian panted, pulling himself up and joining his father. He looked dazed, but coherent. “Thanks for the save.”
“We’ve got to take those zombies out,” Stone growled. “They aren’t going to stop until we destroy them.”
The two mages dived behind cover, throwing more spells at Stone and Ian. They were annoyances, but even annoyances could be a factor in a fight with this many participants. Stone dragged Ian behind some more boxes and grimly surveyed the battlefield as the zombies once again changed directions. He couldn’t see Verity.
“Listen,” he said quickly to Ian. “I’ve got to do something about that circle before Brathwaite finishes that ritual.”
“Can you?” Ian’s gaze darted all around the room. He put up another wave of concussive force, driving the zombies back again. “That’s a big ritual. If you disrupt it, it could blow us all up.”
“I know. That’s why you’ve all got to get out of here.”
Ian glared. “No way. I’m not leaving you here.”
“We’ve got no other choice. We can’t let him finish. Gods know what he’s got planned for Richter.” Stone picked up a crate and used it to bowl over a couple more zombies. Where was Verity?
“Then I’ll help.”
“You can’t help.” He shot a quick look at his son. “Be honest, Ian—has Gabriel taught you about rituals like this?”
Ian’s glare intensified. “No. But—”
“Listen. I’ve got a way out of here. I got out of the cell, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Do it, Ian. Get the others out of here. Fast as you can. Through those doors.” He pointed at the double doors they’d come in, and the similar set on the other side. “Get them out and hold those doors closed I’ll join you when I can.”
Ian looked like he was about to scream, or pound on something. “Damn it, Dad—”
Stone gave him a shove. “Now, Ian!”
With a loud growl, Ian held his gaze for a few more seconds, then leaped away, sprinting toward the other side of the room.
Verity popped out from behind a shelving unit and threw a spell at him. It barely missed, taking a chunk out of the concrete floor.
Damn it, you lot, you’ve got to kill Lane!
From the other side of the room came a high, keening scream.
Stone poked his head from behind his cover, shoving the zombies back almost casually, then gasped.
From here, it almost looked comical, like a scene from a cartoon where someone was fighting multiple adversaries. Jason had hold of one of Lane’s arms. Amber had the other one. As Stone continued to watch in shocked fascination, Tani, still hanging from his back, wrenched Lane’s head back and plunged her long, clawed fingernails into the soft part of this throat.
That was where the scream had come from, but it was abruptly cut off as Tani’s claws sunk deeper into his neck. Blood was everywhere, pumping from Lane’s severed jugular, spraying the ghoul, Jason, Amber, and even Ian as he reached them.
Tani roared something and ripped, wrenching Lane’s head free of his body until the only thing holding it in place was his spine. Then she leaped away, and the man’s body dropped into a heap.
“YES!!!” she screamed, so loud it drowned out Brathwaite’s increasingly frantic chanting. “That’s for Maisie, you son of a bitch!”
Verity, floating now, had been about to throw another spell at the group. She stopped, confusion crossing her features, staring at her hands like she didn’t believe they were hers. Her gaze fell on Stone, near the circle. “Doc…?”
“Get out, Verity!” he yelled, pointing toward the others. “Out the back door!”
“Stop them!” Brathwaite halted his chanting for just a moment, pointing even more wildly than Stone had. “Don’t let them go!”
The zombies, still unhurt, immediately began shambling toward Jason, Verity, Amber, Tani, and Ian.
“Go! Go! Go!” Stone yelled, already pulling in power. He’d need a lot of it to keep his shield up and breach the one around the circle.
His friends looked like they were going to protest, to run back toward him, but Ian snapped something at them. Tani and Amber still looked semi-feral, glaring back at him, but then Amber grabbed Jason’s arm and dragged him toward the rear doors. Tani loped after, and Ian followed.
Verity was the last to remain. She shot a pleading look at him. “Doc, come on!”
Stone barely noticed her now. “Go!” he snapped. “Do it, Verity! We’ve only got one shot at this!” The zombies were changing direction again, heading back toward him. He wouldn’t have long.
Verity’s gaze smoldered. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she spun and darted after the others, toward the doors.
Stone was fully focused on the shield now. It was a race, he could tell: Brathwaite was chanting faster, and massive power was growing inside the shield. He could feel it. The liquid in the tubes, which had glowed red before, now glowed green. Inside the circle, the robed, floating Richter began to bob more energetically in the air, shifting as if trying to get comfortable. His eyes were still closed, his face drawn.
Brathwaite’s eyes weren’t closed, though. As he continued the frantic chanting, spitting out syllables possibly never heard before by human ears—or meant to be—he was glaring at Stone.
Stone gathered more power, letting it surge through his body. The feeling was somewhere between pain and ecstasy, harking back to what he used to feel before he’d learned to properly channel the Calanarian energy. But would it be enough? He’d only get one shot at the circle—if he couldn’t break the shield and disrupt the ritual, he wasn’t sure he’d have enough left to make a second try.
He was about to let the power loose when something changed.
Brathwaite’s chanting was still as fast and focused as ever, but the humming sound providing a background to the ritual began to shift, growing deeper, more primal, and less controlled. Inside the tubes, the liquid, which had gone from red to green, shifted again, turning to a deep black that somehow still managed to glow.
Inside the circle, Richter screamed, his who
le body jerking as if someone had replaced the tubing’s contents with acid. His head snapped back, his eyes flew open, and his robe flapped around him.
Stone, momentarily shocked into inaction, watched with magical sight. Something was happening around Richter, but he had no idea what it was.
He snatched a quick glance at Brathwaite, who was glaring at him with an intensity of hatred Stone had never before seen. His body was bathed in sweat now, his fine clothes drooping on his skinny frame. Obviously, something wasn’t going as he’d expected.
“Curse you, Stone!” he screamed, pitching it so high it hurt Stone’s ears. “Curse you and your line for all eternity!”
And then he made a gesture—not at Richter’s writhing form, but toward the other side of the room.
The side where Ian and Stone’s friends were still trying to get past the zombies to the door.
Above them, the ceiling began to rumble. Cracks appeared, and chunks began to rain down.
Oh, dear gods…
Brathwaite’s yell became a high shriek of mad laughter. “Make your choice, Stone!” He ran into the center of the circle, grabbing the flailing Richter in a telekinetic grip and dashing toward the opposite door. The tubes, now free of their subject, began lashing around, squirting the black liquid in every direction.
Stone darted his gaze back and forth, his thought careening in his head.
Verity screamed as a chunk of ceiling came down and barely missed her. They were only a few feet from the door now, but that ceiling above the door was coming down fast.
“Go!” he screamed. “All of you! Go!” He gathered the power he’d been summoning to take out the circle, and instead directed it at the ceiling, holding it there. “Go!” He knew he barely sounded human now, but even his power wasn’t strong enough to hold even the localized collapse for long. He was too far away to make it himself. All around him, the place rumbled. He dropped to his knees, siphoning off a small part of the power to hold a shield around himself.
He didn’t see whether they’d followed his orders or not. His power broke, his control slipped, and with a deafening roar, the section of ceiling came down, blocking the door. The circle’s light went out, and all around him the world was coming down.
