by Hadena James
“No.”
“Then there is something else going on, because this door doesn’t have any. What would have the power to remove your magic?”
“Mine?” Pendragon gave me an incredulous look.
“My sister,” I answered.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but I wouldn’t think that was possible.”
“I find anything is possible.”
“Then why not open her own door?”
“I don’t know, let’s go find out.”
Pendragon began walking down the halls again. I followed, my stomach sinking at the thought of seeing Jasmine. I still hadn’t forgiven her, but I was trying.
We stopped in front of a door. There were several marks on it, not all of them belonged to Pendragon. The most telling was a talisman over the door frame. It was a small silver cross and glowed with my mother’s magic.
“Go away,” Jasmine said through the door.
“We can’t,” Pendragon said, opening a window in the door.
“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to her,” my sister’s face was suddenly in the doorway. Her skin glowed with anger.
“Hey, you tried to kill me, remember?” I retorted, feeling my own anger flare.
Jasmine began laughing. She pulled away from the window and went to her bed. She sat down and stared at us through the window.
“Why aren’t…” I started and stopped. I looked at Pendragon, a thought suddenly flowing through my brain. I shut the window quickly.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said to him. “It isn’t her.”
He frowned at me, but began to lead the way back down the hall. Another twenty minutes and we were in a small room with Pendragon pouring himself a cup of tea and handing me a soda. He took a seat across from me.
“She can’t get out because of all the magic on the room. Your magic, mom’s, dad’s, Rachel’s, and half a dozen others all have spells on that door, even Vishnu left a mark on it.”
“So?”
“So, Magnus got sucked into Pandora’s Box for using it. What if this is somehow Magnus’s mischief? What if he has found a way to fiddle with your magic through the Box because it is your magic?”
“I would say you are grasping at straws. Souls don’t live inside Pandora’s Box.”
“But Sonnellion’s soul came out of Pandora’s Box and who says it has to be a soul. Do we have hard, physical proof that beings die when they enter Pandora’s Box?”
“We’ve never locked anyone in Pandora’s Box.”
“Meaning you don’t know what happens in there.”
“No one has ever been imprisoned in it before, we only did it this time because of necessity.”
“What do you mean?”
“Magnus was immortal with no Overlord.”
“Why not?”
“His mate hadn’t been born yet, so he hadn’t been classified. Rachel as Premier could have done it, but so soon after giving birth, it’s a bad idea. Besides, we had to get sperm from him.”
“Ew, why?”
“His mate,” Pendragon gave me a stupid look. “The Box was the perfect solution.”
“We won’t get into that. So Magnus may be alive and well in the limbo of Pandora’s Box and since Pandora’s Box is chocked full of your magic, he may be futzing with it to see if anything happens.”
“Think he can get out of the Box on his own?”
“If he does, he will be in for a shock,” I thought about the spells in the ground, the floor of the Council Chamber and all the dirt on top of the box. Our home had enough magic poured into it that it fixed itself; the trees even healed themselves after being pelted with hail or damaging winds. I couldn’t imagine what the ground would do if a being suddenly started to climb out of it.
“Yes, I imagine he will be,” Pendragon gave a small chuckle. “You think that’s what is going on in this place?”
“I can’t think of anything better. If it was just the Prison, I’d be willing to point the finger at Jasmine, but…” I looked around. “It’s impacting the city as well and why are the gremlins suddenly emboldened? I’m pretty sure the book refers to them as mischievous ne’er-do-wells that are afraid of their own shadows. And the portal.”
“Portals,” Pendragon corrected.
“Fine, portals don’t open that easily between this Island and the main lands, Jasmine made a powerful potion to do it, but realistically, it’s a pretty short list of capable Witches. The Brothers’ can’t do it. I’ve also never heard of an Elder, other than you, being able to do it.”
“You think Magnus can open the portals from the Box?”
“Surely not, but who the hell really knows, Uther,” I stopped after the word popped out of my mouth. I had never called Pendragon by his first name or whatever it was.
“It’s all right,” Pendragon reassured me. “You have permission to use it, especially now.”
“Sorry,” I bit my bottom lip.
“You have had permission for forever, Brenna, formality between you and the Overlords is only upheld by you.”
“Ok.”
“So, your Magnus theory, who else knows about it?”
“My family, they think I’m nuts though.”
“I would agree, except I can’t think of anything better,” Uther Pendragon stood up, stretched and looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You remind me of your mother,” he gave me a small smile. “She’s a good strong woman. You are too. If you’re right, there is nothing I can do about the gremlins and I can only hope to hold up against some of the more dangerous beings.”
“Not necessarily,” I stood. “Jasmine is stuck in her cell because of the extra magic. What if we were to do that to the other cells?”
“Do you know how many cells are in here?”
“Nope.”
“Thirteen thousand, one hundred and sixty.”
“Oh, well, shit. Maybe just the ones that are dangerous.”
“But that would leave the ones like Stephen to get in and out.”
“Hey, I’m open to other suggestions,” I told him.
“No, that is probably the best I’ve heard.”
“Great, we’ll need my siblings,” I stood up.
“Ok,” Pendragon picked up what appeared to be a phone.
He talked for several minutes to someone before hanging up. He sat back down on the chair. His eyes fell to me again.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m hoping you’re wrong.”
“Funny, I am too. How many priority prisoners do you have?”
“Hundreds, maybe more, maybe as many as a thousand or so.”
“Good grief, really?” I frowned at him.
“I know, but we can mark one off because Jasmine is tightly locked away.”
“One down, hundreds more to go, woo-hoo,” I said sarcastically.
Pendragon gave me another smile, “I know, it sounds like a lot.”
“We could just protect the entire prison.”
“Good luck,” Pendragon rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what would happen if this prison sat on the same amount of magic as your house.”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel off when I visit there, it’s the amount of magic that I can do anything about. It gives me magic sickness.”
“Wow, you are the only pure bred Elder to ever admit to suffer from magic sickness.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you would call me.”
“You aren’t a pure bred?”
“I am, but I’m not like other Elders.”
“I know,” I told him. “And you have amazing magic.”
“Thank you, you do as well.”
“You can see my magic?”
“Yours? Yes. Most? No.”
“Learn something new every day.”
“You do indeed,” he said reminding me of Anubis in his manner of speech.
Chapter Twenty-Six
There were exactly one tho
usand, six hundred and ninety-four prisoner doors to protect. We put spells on one thousand, six hundred and ninety-three. The one we skipped was empty. My siblings and I frowned at the door. Pendragon turned white, then green, then red. I thought his head would explode.
“Whose cell is this?” Rachel asked.
“James Walters, but you know him better as Jack the Ripper,” Pendragon said through clenched teeth.
“Jack the Ripper is running around?” I nearly passed out myself.
“That would appear to be the case,” Pendragon suddenly slammed his fist into the stone wall. It rang against the wall like a hammer striking an anvil. Magic flared out from it and wafted through the air.
“Do you know how long he’s been gone?” Rachel asked.
“Can’t have been very long, he would have been fed earlier today.”
“Who does the feedings?” I asked.
“We have a group of dedicated staff,” Pendragon began walking down the hall again.
He stopped outside a door. He knocked once, the door opened. I was staring at one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet. She smiled at me and I felt myself swoon. My brothers seemed even more affected.
“Brenna Strachan, this is Aria, she’s a Succubus and for obvious reasons, very dangerous to be around,” Pendragon pointed to Eli, who had his eyes as wide as possible. “We find the inmates and myself are immune to them. They can’t roam the Island or they get eaten or worse. And they can’t live in the city for the same reason.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Brenna Strachan,” her voice sounded lyrical and song-like.
“Here,” Pendragon handed something to me. I took them, they were sunglasses. I put them on and felt the spell break.
“Wow, that’s powerful stuff,” I said.
“Succubi and Incubi can’t roam free without causing havoc.”
“Um, yeah,” I looked at her again. She was still radiant, but I no longer felt the pull that I had a few seconds earlier. “If I take these off, do I go back to having a hot flash?”
“Yes,” Pendragon answered. “When did you feed James Walters today?”
“Noon was the last time, we are preparing dinner now,” Aria answered.
“Was he there?” Pendragon asked.
“Of course, I would have told you if he wasn’t,” Aria actually looked horrified by the suggestion that she wouldn’t.
“He’s gone,” Pendragon told her.
She put a hand over her mouth and let out a shrill shriek that seemed to break the trance my brothers were in. They shook their heads and put their hands over their ears. Rachel handed me a small piece of metal. It was a pendant. I looked at it.
“I just made it, it will help,” she told me. I took the glasses off. The pull didn’t come back. I slipped it into my pocket, but kept my fingers on it.
She went back to work; I could now hear her bespelling another item. She handed one to each of my brothers. They took them gratefully.
Aria stopped shrieking as other Succubi and Incubi came to the door. They looked as horrified as she did. Several began talking and asking questions all at once.
Pendragon waved them away with a warning about reporting anything suspicious to him. This lead to another spur of chatter from the sequestered beings. They were yelling at Pendragon about the gremlins running around and the beings getting out of their rooms.
Rachel pulled my brothers along. I stood and considered the sequestered. They weren’t really prisoners in the sense that they had done anything wrong, but they were still captive. I felt sorry for them.
“Don’t,” Pendragon had snuck back up on me.
“Don’t what?”
“Everyone feels sorry for them, you don’t have to, Succubi and Incubi aren’t capable of breeding and sex makes them sick, physically. They aren’t like the rest of the Elders,” Pendragon told me, taking hold of my arm.
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“They are what happen when I mate,” Pendragon answered.
“All of those are your children?”
“Yep, that power seems to be what happens when I combine my magic with my mates.”
“Are they considered Keepers?”
“No, they are considered Succubi and Incubi. Another time, Bren, another time,” Pendragon moved me down the hallway, “right now, we have one of the most heinous serial killing Elders to ever roam the Earth free and his location is unknown.”
“He didn’t kill the last time he was free,” I reminded Pendragon.
“True, but not from a lack of bloodlust, if I had to put a finger on it, I’d say it was Cerebus’s influence. Cerebus has influence on some of the Elders impacted by Maturing Madness.”
“Okie dokie,” I shrugged and thought about it. “Would Jack the Ripper seek Cerebus out?”
“No, Cerebus would eat him. But in controlled circumstances, James would be drawn to Cerebus and the darkness that he carries,” Pendragon put emphasis on the name “James”, I was guessing he wanted me to use it instead.
“You know about Cerebus then?”
“Of course, I helped create the hell hound,” Pendragon gave me a look. “I’m more surprised that you know about Cerebus.”
“My brother has weird reactions to the dead and I have a soul trapped in my spell book.”
“Well, don’t go spreading it around, it is better for the world that Cerebus remain Cerebus.”
“Oh god,” I let out a hiss of air and my feet seemed rooted to the spot.
“What?” Pendragon asked.
“The Fourth Horseman,” I told him.
“What does that have to do with James Walters?”
“What if he kills someone who is worse than him?”
“There is no one worse than him.”
“Ok, what if he is the new Death?”
“That would be bad,” Pendragon hastened our steps.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was dark. The woods were even darker than they should have been. There were about a hundred Elders fanned out, searching the area with me. However, I was pretty sure we were either too late or in the wrong place.
Nick was practically glued to my side. He had volunteered to search Cerebus’s Woods, as they turned out to be named, without really thinking about it. Behind us, we had a parade of dead animals. They had all been restored to their original form and seemed very happy to follow us into the woods of the hell hound. However, if I had to guess, I would have bet they were food for him at one point.
His emotions were running high and with the dead animals following us, they were even higher. I had tried to convince him to go back to the safety of the city, but he had refused, not wanting to look like a wimp. I could sympathize with both his terror and his determination.
“Brenna!” Anubis’s voice cut the dark.
“What?” I yelled back.
“Bring Nick and get over here,” he responded.
I took Nick’s hand and began walking carefully through the woods. There were lots of small shrubs that had been beaten into the ground by the comings and goings of the giant Cerebus. The trees were surprisingly springy. They were not crushed and pulverized like the shrubs. If I touched them, they would bend to my touch and swing back into position when I let the pressure off. I wanted to ask someone about them, but it seemed wrong to do so while searching the woods for a deranged Elder and Cerebus.
“Well?” Anubis was pointing on the ground.
“Well what?” Nick asked as bones began to assemble themselves into a shape. Skin flowed over it.
“Not James, damn,” Anubis said as the form turned into a dryad and began to follow Nick.
“Can we not use him for the purpose of necromancy tonight? He’s having a hard time of it anyway,” Sonnellion came to Nick’s defense.
“It’s fine,” Nick lied to Sonnellion and everyone else that could hear us.
“We’ll get them back down before we leave the woods,” I squeezed his hand not sure how we were
going to do it.
“This is why we don’t have pets,” my father walked up to us. He touched the dryad, it fell to the ground, the skin melted off and the bones lay still.
“That’s all you have to do?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lucifer answered.
“Huh, can anyone do it?”
“Nope, just a Demon. I’m sure a Witch could with the right spell. Something about the dead being unable to heal causes the raised corpse to return to the grave,” he told me. “Although, it doesn’t work with Sonnellion.”
“Sonnellion was never dead…”
“I know, I know,” my father interrupted me and waved the rest of the sentence away, “for now, we have a search to continue.”
An hour later, we were all gathered outside a cavern that had been well hidden in the woods. No one was moving towards the opening. Even my father, his brothers and Pendragon all stood looking into the gaping mouth as if it were a death sentence to enter. All I could think of was the irony that I considered the cavern opening to be a gaping mouth considering it was the lair of Cerebus.
“Well?” Anubis asked.
“We should go in,” Lucifer agreed.
“Or Nick could call him out,” Rachel offered.
“Nick’s had enough tonight,” I pointed to the trail of revived corpses.
“I’d rather not call him,” Nick answered.
“First, let’s deal with these,” Levi said. He and the rest of our uncles began touching the reanimated beings. When they finished, Levi touched Sonnellion and gave everyone a grin. Sonnellion gave him a look.
“Just checking,” Levi broke some of the tension.
“Let’s clear something up. Is Jack an Elder with another soul or a Human with another soul?” I asked.
“James Walters is an Elder with a Witch’s soul and the Witch was a mean SOB long before he entered the Elder,” Levi answered.
“James is a Lycan,” Fenrir told me.
“Have you ever heard of Roanoke?” Rachel asked.
“The lost colony?” I frowned.
“That’s the one, in the winter of 1588, a Witch by the name of George Whittle met with a shaman from a local tribe. When the settlers discovered that Whittle was getting food and not sharing it, they decided to try him and put him in the stockade. Whittle cast a spell to get out and went on a killing spree. The Witches Council found him and beheaded him about a year later. That should have been the end, but three hundred years later, some Witch, desperate for attention, decided to cast the Double Soul Spell and they pulled forth George Whittle and shoved him into a young Lycan. Whittle won out and his bloodlust was even greater in the fractured mind of the impacted Lycan,” Rachel finished and looked at me.
