by Alex Temples
I tried again, hooking a finger under the edge and lifting. It lifted enough for Claire to get several fingers underneath. She ran them around inside the hole for a moment, before making a small noise of discovery.
I raised an eyebrow and she smiled, forcing her hand deeper into the tight hole and pulling out a tightly wound roll of paper.
It was my turn to gasp. Not thinking, I dropped the board back in place. The clatter of the board resettling echoed across the small room.
“What was that noise?” Someone asked from the hallway.
“Isn’t that the haunted room?” Another voice asked.
Whoops.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Claire and I extricated ourselves from the bed just as the tour guide walked into the room. Claire muttered some lame excuse about having lost one of her earrings and seeing it roll under the bed. I wasn’t entirely sure John the tour guide believed us, but after giving us a strange look, he’d turned back to the rest of the group to answer a question about the ghost of Gadsby’s. We’d taken that as our cue to leave. The three of us quickly made for the stairs.
“What does it say?” I burst out, the second we were outside.
“What does what say? Did you find something?” Orielle asked excitedly.
I nodded, and turned to Claire.
She pulled the small, rolled up paper out of her blouse. I reached out, tugging gently on the red ribbon keeping it together, and the paper unfurled to reveal a ragged piece of parchment, filled with tiny, cramped writing.
“It’s a letter.” She said softly.
“To who?” I asked.
“From who?” Asked Orielle at the same time.
“Oh, wait. It’s a will.” Claire exclaimed excitedly, and began reading out loud.
“Last will and testament of Ms. Abigail Curran.” Claire read through the usual language of a will, and I waited patiently for something of interest.
“Oh, wait – here is something about her burial requests.” She exclaimed.
“Why is that interesting?”
Claire glanced up from the letter, her green eyes glowing.
“Because she asked to be buried with a chalice.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A massive, mission-style church loomed before us. We’d covered the few blocks to St. Paul’s Episcopal Cemetery in record time. Squinting in the darkness, I wished we’d made it faster. The sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon, and the faintest strains of sunlight played over the tombstones, casting thin shadows across the vacant yard. Venturing into a cemetery at night was not on my top ten list.
“This way.”
Claire gestured, heading towards a small gate. I took a deep breath and followed her. Orielle trailed behind.
“What now?” Claire asked, pausing in front of a row of lichen-covered tombstones. They were worn and stained with age. This seemed to be the older section of the cemetery. The moist air smelled of grass and dew, with the muskier scent of rotting leaves underneath. I reached into my bag where I’d tucked the page with the drawing of the fallen soldier. Pulling it out, I was surprised to feel that the paper felt warm under my fingers.
“Woah.” Orielle squinted at the page. “Is it glowing?” She asked, squinting at the page.
“Yes, it feels warm too.” I held it out. Claire and Orielle both ran a finger over the paper.
“That’s a good sign.” Claire said excitedly. “I think that means we’re closer. Maybe the page responds to the treasure.”
Hmm. That’s not a bad idea.
We stared down at the drawing, waiting for something to happen. After a few minutes, it became apparent it wasn’t going to work that way.
“We need to find her grave first.” Claire suggested.
The three of us broke up, and began walking the rows. It wasn’t but a few minutes before Orielle called out from a shady corner of the yard.
“Right here. I found it.”
Claire and I crossed to where she was kneeling next to a long, rectangular stone placed on top of the grass. Writing covered the stone from top to bottom, and next to it a small raised plaque proclaimed it to be the tomb of female stranger. I read the inscription aloud.
To the memory of a Female Stranger
Whose mortal suffering terminated
on the 14th day of October, 1816
Aged 23 years, and 8 months
This stone is erected by her discon-
solate husband in whose arms she
sighed out her latest breath, and who
under God did his utmost to soothe the
cold dull hour of death.
How loved, how honor'd once avails thee not,
To whom related or by whom begot,
A heap of dust remains of thee
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be.
“Wow, that’s so romantic.” Claire said with a sigh.
I raised an eyebrow. “It may be, but I don’t hear anything in there that helps us figure out where the artifact is hidden.”
Claire frowned. The three of us stood staring at the tomb, glancing occasionally at the map to see if it had changed, but it remained as it was, warm, slightly glowing, but otherwise unremarkable.
“I guess we’re going to have to dig it up.” I said, eyeing the large stone.
Claire nodded, hesitantly.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right.”
“I don’t particularly want to take on the role of grave robber, but unless anyone had a better idea…” I said, trailing off. I looked hopefully from Orielle to Claire. Both were silent.
“Grave robbing it is, then.”
I glanced around to make sure we were alone. The cemetery had taken on an unearthly quiet. The birds that had been chirping went silent. I could still hear the muffled sound of traffic in the distance, but nothing sounded terribly close.
A warm breeze fluttered through the trees nearby, bringing with it the smell of the honeysuckle I’d seen growing on the surrounding brick wall. Light from the few streetlamps nearby provided the only reprieve from the encroaching darkness.
We were alone.
I raised my hands, palms facing the sky and drew upon the energy in the nearby trees and grass, pulling just enough energy to accomplish my aim. Then, turning my palms towards the stone, I pushed the energy into it, willing the heavy granite to move from its resting place.
It jolted slightly, vibrating with my power for a moment, before a sickening cracking sound filled the air. The stone budged. With a wave of my palm, I lifted it to the side, placing it gently on the grass.
Claire gasped as the paper I handed her flared to life in her hands.
“It’s in there.” She called excitedly.
I let out a breath, relaxing after the exertion of moving the heavy stone. Turning to Orielle, I raised an eyebrow.
“Earth is your element, is it not?” I asked the dark fae.
She nodded, eyeing the grassless, worm infested soil with a considering eye.
I’d never seen Orielle do magic. I thought perhaps Nia had instructed her not to use her magic here unless she needed it to defend us from the dark fae. Nonetheless, I could tell Orielle was a powerful one. I felt the energy that hummed around her, and that sixth sense deep in my gut told me she was not one to be trifled with.
Still, as she spindled energy in her core, I drew in a small breath of surprise at the vastness of it. I wondered how long it would take me to grow my powers to the point where I could call them up as easily as she did. For me, it was a slow process, clumsy even, as I battled for the focus necessary to pull energy into my chi.
For Orielle, it was as if she had turned on a facet. The energy poured into her, and then she turned her hands towards the damp soil, and it parted like a knife through soft butter.
From beneath the earth, a coffin emerged, aged and rotting, stained with dark earth, and shuddering under the power that pulled it.
Claire and I watched, mouths agape, as it settled
gently on the grass nearby. The page flared to life. This time, when I looked down, the chalice in the woman’s hands was glowing, the soft embers lighting the darkness around us.
I was so focused on the paper, I didn’t see him until it was too late. Orielle let out a cry and dropped to the ground, crimson blood spreading across her shoulder.
ChapterTwenty-Seven*
“Brin!” Claire shouted. At the same time, she raised a hand and blue light shot out of her palm, soaring over my shoulder and crashing into something with a thud.
The sound of a man grunting filled the air around us, and the cemetery came to life with the sound of battle.
I spun just in time to see Agfad raise his hand in defense. There were two of them, Agfad, and the burly Asian soldier from the library in Dublin. They both wore mortal clothing, jeans and dark jackets.
The Asian man advanced on us, throwing red darts of light at Claire as she poured blue energy in his direction. I shook off my surprise and threw up a green shield just in time to ward off Agfad’s attack..
Orielle was still down. I glanced around to make sure no one else was coming. It appeared to just be the two of them. How they’d found us, I hadn’t a clue. We hadn’t used magic until a few moments ago, so either they’d known to come to the cemetery for the artifact, or they’d been tracking us for a while.
My eye’s met Claire’s and we nodded. We’d each take one. They couldn’t be allowed to get their hands on another artifact, even if it mean one of us had to die to protect it. I wouldn’t be responsible for ushering in the end of mortal freedom.
“Yield, Brinmar. You are outmatched.”
Agfad’s grating voice rumbled across the tombstones, and I raised my eyes to his.
“Never.” I replied, my voice coming out sure and strong. I punctuated my statement with an arrow of green magic aimed at his head.
The bastard ducked to the side, excitement flaring in his dark eyes. He’d much rather spill blood than negotiate. A sharp blast of red caught me in the shoulder. I grunted, tilting briefing to the side before righting myself and retaliating with a blow to his shoulder. We circled each other, throwing our power back and forth, until we found ourselves only a couple feet apart, mere inches from the raised coffin.
Agfad’s long blonde hair shimmered in the darkness, and he glowed with an inhuman light.
“Your strength in growing, Brinmar.” He said, smiling cruelly at me in the darkness.
“Or yours is weakening.” I shot back.
His eyes flashed. “You enjoy the fight, don’t you, dear child?”
I glared silently back at him.
He continued, nonplussed. His lips curled. “You enjoy the spill of blood.” He said, confidently, and then added, “Perhaps as much as I do.”
I frowned at his words, unsettled by the thought that he could see right through me.
Lately, I had been enjoying the spill of blood.
He’d distracted me with his comment, and I didn’t see his fist coming up until it glanced off my cheekbone.
I gasped with pain, staggering to the side.
Agfad laughed.
I took that moment to step in and land a solid blow to his chest, cursing myself for letting him catch me off guard. I didn’t mind the switch to hand-to-hand combat. In fact, I welcomed it. My confidence grew as he grunted and staggered back a step.
I spun, landing a roundhouse kick to his stomach. As he doubled over, I followed up with punch to the side of his head.
His arm shot up, and he grabbed my wrist with one hand, and my upper arm with the other, pulling me to the ground. I hit the hard soil and rolled, using the momentum to spring back to my feet.
Staying on the ground for too long in hand-to-hand combat was a sure way to get yourself killed.
We circled like cats, snarling at each other. The cold, metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. He’d split my lip with his last punch.
I glared up at him, malice filling my eyes. A streak of red ran through his blonde hair as blood flowed from a gash in his scalp. We moved slowly, strategically, each of us biding our time. This was about endurance.
“You’re tiring.” Agfad said, smiling with amusement. “Why not just let me have the sword, and I’ll be on my way? Why do you fight their battle for them? Bleed for those who think so little of you?” He taunted.
He thought the sword was here. Hmm. I wondered for a moment if we were wrong, if it was the sword and not the chalice that laid in the tomb. Then I remembered the glowing chalice in the drawing. No. It was the chalice. I was sure of it.
“I fight for my people.” I hissed back at him.
“Your people would just as soon see you burned at the stake, if they knew what you were. You belong neither in Eden, nor in the mortal realm. Some would say you are an abomination.”
His eyes met mine and I swallowed the emotion rising in my throat. He spoke aloud the thoughts I’d silently ruminated over. I did not belong. I was an outcast in both worlds.
He laughed.
I lashed out in anger, my fist landing on his jaw, and instead of trying to block the blow, he stepped into it, throwing his arms around me and pulling us to the ground. The weight of his body propelled me backwards and we hit the dirt with a heavy thud.
Air whooshed from my lungs. I struggled weakly against him as I gasped for breath, my lungs desperate for oxygen, stars appearing in the corners of my vision.
I’d let my anger get the best of me. He’d been counting on that, hoping I would strike without thinking. Anger and disgust filled me. I heard scuffling from somewhere over my shoulder. That was a good sign. Claire was still fighting.
Agfad straddled me, pinning my lower body with his hips. I clawed and lashed out with my arms, but he caught my wrists and slowly began to lower them to the ground, my strength no match for his. My chest heaved as he pushed my arms further down. Panic blossomed in my chest, my heart pounding frantically. I was losing this battle.
He smiled down at me, and despite his sharply handsome features, the expression chilled me. He’d won.
“Brinmar. It is over.” He said, leaning down. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he licked softly at the blood dripping from my lip.
I writhed in disgust, turning my head to the side in an attempt to get away from him.
“Your magic tastes so exotic.” He said, his eyes burning with fire, black and crimson swirling in their depths.
I snarled at him, refusing to look away from his piercing gaze. My magic. I let it fill me then, and I felt my skin warming.
Agfad stared down at me with amusement.
What the hell? I’d tried to push my power into him. Why isn’t it working? I wondered, knowing my own skin blazed like fire.
“Ah, so little they’ve taught you young one.” He shifted his hand then so he was holding both of my hands with his right hand. His fingers pressed into the bandage I’d used to bind the cut on my wrist earlier. I winced in pain.
His left hand reached out, and he stroked my cheek.
“Don’t you dare touch me.” I hissed in warning.
He ignored me, running his fingers along my chin and down to my neck.
“How do we call forth the sword?” He asked softly, his dark eyes piercing mine.
I narrowed my eyes. He didn’t know how to find the artifact? Interesting. They had the book, which obviously led them to the artifacts, but perhaps it could only take them so far? Was that the purpose of the lost pages? Did they hold the secret to calling forth the artifacts? If that were the case, then how had the dark fae found the stone?
“Where is the stone?” I asked, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand stoking my throat.
He stared blankly down at me, and then raised his hand and struck me across the cheek.
My skin stung, but I forced myself to ignore the pain, and continued to meet his gaze. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do much about the tears that formed in my eyes as the stinging pain radiated through my j
aw.
“I asked you a question.” He hissed down at me, pressing firmly on my neck until I felt my face beginning to turn red. Once again, stars appeared as the lack of oxygen took effect.
“I don’t know.” I forced out, barely able to get the words out. My voice was a hoarse whisper.
He released the pressure then, watching with amusement as I sucked in a harsh breath. Cool, moist air filled my lungs. I sucked in great gasps of it.
“You don’t know.” He repeated, slowly. Then, he raised his hand and hit me again. This time the pain made me cry out as I heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
He broke my fucking nose. Excruciating pain radiated through my skull, threatening to send me into unconsciousness. I sucked in a breath, choking as hot blood ran down my throat and streamed from my nose down my cheeks.
A flash of light came from out of nowhere, slamming into Agfad’s chest. Suddenly, he released my hands. He ducked to the side, and I took advantage of the moment and rolled to the opposite side, flipping until I was on my hands and knees.
From the far side of the cemetery, I saw Siddarth. Next to him stood a small woman with dark hair and a towering giant of a man with brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. Siddarth shouted something to me.
I leapt out of the way as Agfad tried to grab my ankle. With a flash of his hand, Siddarth sent a flash of red fire in the dark fae’s direction. Agfad turned from me, toward the greater threat.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I scanned the area for Claire, and found she was standing over the Asian man. The small dark-haired woman stood at her side. It looked like they had things under control. I turned to the tomb and moved forward, pulling the map from my pocket once more.
The worn parchment glowed softly, flaring brighter with each step I took towards the crumbling casket. Standing before the final resting place of the fallen keeper, I examined the casket carefully. It was a simple pine box, with an iron frame, unlike anything I’d ever seen.
