I break our circle again and reach for the planchette. “I can feel something,” I say, and it is true—thoughts and whispering words in the back of my mind, trying to break through.
Balthazar quickly rises and returns with parchment and ink. “Go ahead, Jessamine,” he says. “Let the spirit board guide you.”
I place the planchette in the center of the board and lay my fingers upon it. For a moment nothing happens, but then the mist clears and I see letters and symbols again. It is remarkable. My hands zigzag quickly, as they did the first time, when I found the words Balthazar was thinking. A sense of dread settles over me as the planchette moves left, right, up and down. I feel a frightful rush of cold air—the dark and dampness of something under the earth. There is a smell, too—a sharp, putrid odor from which I want to escape.
Two pinpoints of red blaze in my mind’s eye.
I gasp, drawing my hands away from the planchette.
“What is it?” Emily asks.
“It was cold and damp,” I quietly answer. “I felt something dark. Something evil.”
Balthazar peers at the parchment in front of him. He cocks his head and then turns it around so I can see what is written. “Chislehurst … Caves?” I whisper.
“Yes,” he replies. “Curious. Most curious. There are caves under London, Jessamine. Chislehurst is one such place.”
“Caves?” Emily asks in astonishment. “In London? With bogeys?”
“Outside of London, Emily,” Balthazar replies. “They are old mines, now long out of use.”
“Some believe they were built by the druids,” Gabriel says, “thousand of years ago.”
There is a pause.
“What else did you feel?” Balthazar asks. “You came out of the trance quickly, as if you saw something that unsettled you.”
His gaze is intense. For I will always be watching.
“I saw two pinpoints of red in a field of black. That’s all it was, but I felt a terrible sense of unease.”
He nods, taking in my words.
“We must go to these caves,” Gabriel suggests, looking at me. “We must seek Mephisto out.”
“This is our first true lead,” Balthazar agrees. “And after Cora’s death, we cannot take anything lightly.”
Just hearing him speak of Mother makes me want to weep.
Balthazar looks at me, then at Emily and Gabriel. He stands up and seems to grow even taller in the dark room. “Jess, you’ll need your weapons.”
I pull the case from the leather satchel. The instruments lie in their bed of red velvet, waiting for their power to be unleashed. I draw out the lash. The handle is braided leather. The five trailing thongs feel weighted at the bottom, as if filled with stone or some other deadly embellishment. I saw what it did to the dressmaker’s form. But what would it do to a monster? I grip the handle and, releasing a breath, lash out, just as Mother did.
A deafening crack rings through the room. I set the lash down and pick up the compass. Now I can see how beautiful it really is. A fine filigree pattern runs along the two legs, which taper into points so sharp, I dare not touch them. I set it back down. Mother’s words come back to me:
To most people, these are just simple objects, but to those with supernatural abilities, they are deadly weapons.
Inside the satchel is a leather strap with two buttonholes at either end. I find the pegs on the satchel and push them through. There is a length of extra strap, like a belt that is too long, but by adjusting and fiddling, I somehow find a way to sling it over my shoulder, where it bounces against my hipbone. It feels right, as if it has been waiting for me. My proper English side notices that the leather is a complement to my brown boots, which Darby has cleaned to a fine sheen. But now is not the time for frivolous thoughts.
A malevolent force that lived in darkness and fed on fear. They are necromancers.
We take the South Eastern Railway from Charing Cross to the town of Chislehurst, which lies to the southeast. I wonder what the other passengers think of our little band of travelers: A father with his children? A headmaster with some of his pupils? If only they knew the truth.
We are the League of Ravens, and we are seeking evil where it sleeps.
We arrive at Chiselhurst Station at dusk. It is nothing more than a small depot with a signal box. A few malnourished cats and dogs slink about the place. A sign above a small booth reads STATIONMASTER, but there is no one to be seen.
Balthazar leads the way. “It is a village, really,” he points out. “A very old one, where the people keep to themselves and shun visitors.”
The moon is bright and gives us plenty of light by which to navigate. We are surrounded by open fields and pastures, here and there a small cottage or farmhouse. I smell wood smoke on the air and spy a windmill some distance away, its massive arms creaking in the wind. It’s colder here, without the shelter of buildings and houses, and I feel exposed, as if someone could swoop down at any moment and carry me away.
“So where are the caves?” Emily asks.
“Just up ahead,” Balthazar answers.
We stop in the middle of the dirt path we are on. Balthazar looks left, then right. “This way,” he says.
We make a right turn and come upon a stand of trees as tall as towering giants. Up ahead, a jagged entrance looms like a terrible yawning mouth.
“The cave,” Gabriel whispers.
“Yes, Gabriel,” Balthazar says. “Be on your guard. Jessamine’s vision has led us here, but we do not know what we shall find.” He looks at each of us. “Follow me.”
The air grows even colder as we approach the entrance. It is wet and damp, like the sea back home. But is it simply weather, or the presence of something more foreboding?
Balthazar sniffs like a foxhound on the hunt. For a moment he says nothing at all, and then, “Light, Emily.”
I hear Emily exhale, as soft as a whisper. I turn to see a nimbus of light radiate from the top of her head and then surround her. In an instant, the darkness is flooded with brilliant luminescence.
The light spreads outward from Emily’s body like a candle, glowing brightest at the top of her head. Her hair floats away from her face as if she is underwater.
“I take it Emily told you of her gift?” Balthazar asks.
“Yes,” I say, still staring. “But I thought it was only—”
“She is a lightbringer,” he says proudly. “A very rare elementalist, one who can bend light and heat at her will.”
I continue to gaze at her. I hear her father’s words from when I looked in on her past: I seen the fire inside her. The light seems to surround her and come from within at the same time. It is truly remarkable. She smiles. “Neat, innit?”
“Emily and Gabriel discovered their abilities early on,” Balthazar explains. “In time, you, too, will learn to control your gift.”
I pull my gaze away from Emily as we head farther into the cave. Balthazar leads the way, with Emily behind him. I come next, with Gabriel taking up the rear.
We are in a winding tunnel, its walls made of a yellow chalky substance. The dirt beneath our feet crunches as if we are walking on small stones and pebbles. It’s stuffy and clammy and reminds me of being in the wardrobe at home, which already seems so long ago. Every now and then I hear the plink, plink, plink of water dripping from an unseen roof. If not for Emily, we would be surrounded by darkness.
“The ancients mined these caves for lime and rare minerals,” Balthazar quietly points out. “It was a different world then, and much harsher.”
I wonder about that and think on what it must have been like to live a thousand years ago, without the modern conveniences we have today.
At first, the path is wide enough for the four of us to walk side by side, but it soon narrows to form a crevice.
“We’re stuck,” Emily says. “We can’t get through.”
My heart catches, but then Balthazar exhales deeply, turns sideways, and slides in.
“Skinn
y, that one.” Emily snickers.
We hear Balthazar’s voice through the crack. “Come in,” he calls, his voice echoing. “One at a time. You first, Emily. I need light.”
Emily nods and squeezes through. I look at the narrow passage, then let out a breath and shimmy in, the same way Balthazar did. The walls of the crevice close against my ribs, pressing in so strongly, I feel I will be crushed. Gabriel follows me with a quiet grunt.
When we come out on the other side, we are met by walls covered in a black crusty material, as if hot lava has rushed over them. Water trickles through fissures and crevices. I peer up at a forest of ivory-colored spears. At my feet are objects of the same color, but round and blunt, bringing to mind a graveyard of broken teeth. My clothes are filthy. I can feel the cold seeping into my boots.
Gabriel looks up. “Stalactites,” he says. “The ones below are stalagmites.”
I look up at the long, gleaming daggers and shudder. I pray that one does not fall.
Balthazar leads the way down the passage. There is no sound at all beyond the echo of our footsteps and the drip of water falling from above. There are places on the rock wall that look like ice, slick and shiny. The path veers to the left, and we walk a few more minutes in silence. Just as the quiet is beginning to unsettle me, Balthazar speaks. “Necromancers embrace the dark, for in the night they find their power. They know what humans fear, and use it against them.”
I shudder. Now he tells us this?
A howl echoes through the cave.
It is not a human voice. It sounds almost like an animal in distress. But before I can ask what it is, the answer is revealed.
Ahead of us, a figure in shredded black garments seems to appear out of thin air. The face is elongated, and the mouth, a black hole of nothing, hangs open in a silent scream.
“A ghoul,” Gabriel hisses.
“Your tools,” Balthazar whispers. “Open the satchel, Jessamine.”
Every instinct I have is telling me to run. There is a monster in front of us. But then I hear Mother’s voice in my head: Within you lies strength yet to be discovered. Like your father … and your mother. Never forget that, Jess.
I reach across my chest to open the satchel, and right at that moment, the creature comes screaming toward us.
I set my stance as Balthazar taught me to, but I trip on one of the stalagmites and fall back. I immediately rise, and the beast is on us in seconds. Balthazar reaches into his waistcoat and whips out two gleaming daggers. A cold blue light ripples along the edge of each blade. He slashes furiously, but the thing moves with lightning speed, bouncing from wall to wall, as if made of something besides human flesh.
A sound like shattering glass rings throughout the cave. My ears feel as if they will burst. What is it? I turn my head quickly to see Gabriel, his mouth open wide. It is coming from him. Is he singing?
“The lash!” Balthazar cries. With trembling hands, I quickly open the flap to my satchel and withdraw the whip from its case. The monster reaches for Balthazar’s throat, but he steps aside and slashes at its face. The stench is unbearable. Two rows of sharp teeth jut from its lower lip.
“Strike!” Balthazar commands me. “Strike now, Jessamine!”
I grasp the braided handle and, without thinking, lash out, just as Mother did. The weighted tails coil around the creature’s neck and then curl tight, like a snake squeezing its prey, as if it has a mind of its own.
The ghoul grasps at its neck, trying to loosen the whip, but then claps its hands against its ears, as if the sound of Gabriel’s singing is more painful. All the while, Gabriel’s voice is rising in pitch, an aria full of despair. Cracks appear in the walls. Light dances on Emily’s fingertips. She rushes forward and rakes the monster’s back with her fingernails. “No!” I shout. “Emily!”
She quickly darts away to stand by my side, breathing hard. Her small handprint begins to glow white-hot on the ghoul’s back. The monster screams and twists its arms, trying to reach the spot that now blazes a fearsome red. Balthazar lunges in with his blade, slashing at the demon’s heart. Though I wonder if it even has one. A note rings in the air—clear and strong. I turn to see Gabriel, golden harp in hand, plucking the strings. His face is set in fierce determination, his eyes as dark as ever.
“Stop!” the demon howls. “You filth! It burns!”
And then it collapses to the floor of the cave, rolling around in pain. The smell of burning hair and something much worse fills the air.
It opens its mouth, a deep chasm of shadow, and a low sound comes from its throat. After a moment, dread creeps down my spine, for it is speaking. “My master,” it says, “has something for you. All of you. You will die suffering.”
And then it shakes its terrible head and howls again. “Ring around the rosy, a pocketful of posies. Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!”
How can this thing know that?
“You pitiful beast,” Balthazar hisses. “Jessamine. Release this foul spirit.”
I look to Balthazar. What does he mean?
“The compass!” Emily shouts. “Use the compass, Jess!”
“Draw back your lash first, Jessamine,” Balthazar tells me in a much quieter tone.
Fearful, even with Balthazar’s instruction, I release the whip. The tails loosen and seem to slither away. I kneel to set it on the ground, then take the silver compass from the case.
“Where?” I ask, standing up.
Balthazar points to a space just below the thing’s monstrous feet. “Here,” he says. “It is the Circle of Confinement, from which no evil can escape.”
I kneel back down and pull the two points of the compass apart. Gabriel is still playing his harp, the notes like darts of pain in the beast’s body, for it can now barely move and lies on the floor breathing hard. Its eyes are a sick, vibrant yellow. Emily stands next to me, her light pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I put one point of the compass into the rocky earth and slowly turn it in a circle. I gasp. My hands are bathed in a golden glow. Sparks fly up from the ground.
“Now do the same above,” Balthazar instructs me. “A creature must be bound at the north and south points. Only then can it be destroyed.”
I don’t have time to think about it. I just have to do it, so I quickly rise and make a circle at the top of the monster’s head. I try to hold my breath, for it emits such a foul odor. Once again, my hands glow as I do my work. The thing’s eyes are rolling around like marbles.
“Now the holy water,” Balthazar says.
The monster writhes and moans, its body burned by Emily’s fire and pierced by Gabriel’s notes.
I grasp the vial of holy water and pull out the stopper.
“All it takes is one drop,” Balthazar tells me.
I let out a breath and hold the bottle over the circle.
“No!” the ghoul cries.
“Yes,” Gabriel hisses, and strikes a melancholy chord.
One drop lands with a plink, and the cave is filled with black smoke. I cough, waving my free hand in front of my face. There is another dreadful howl—and then silence.
Sweat pours down my face. Amidst all this madness, I can think of only one thing. It is unseemly for a lady to sweat.
I look down. All that remains of the ghoul is a pool of black ooze.
“Come,” Balthazar says, wiping his blades along the rough stone wall. “We must find their lair if we are to—”
He stops and narrows his eyes at something in the distance. I turn around.
Ahead of us, five hooded figures step from the darkness.
Emily’s light immediately dims, as if blown out by a foul wind. My legs begin to tremble. Gabriel takes a deep breath, as if he is about to use his voice like a trumpet.
“Wait,” whispers Balthazar, extending an arm toward Gabriel. “There are too many.”
I peer into the shadows ahead of me, and a voice drifts through the suffocating air. “The child,” one of them calls. “Come to us, darklin
g.”
My heart lurches, and I feel as if I will swoon, for the voice is unlike any I have ever heard before—as soft as a woman’s and as deep as a man’s, combined in an eerie pitch.
“Go back, revenant,” Gabriel hisses.
“Come to us, Jessamine,” it calls. “Come, darkling.”
No, I whisper in my head. It said my name. No. No. No. No …
“We do not fear the dark!” Balthazar shouts back. “Tell your master that the League of Ravens lives again!”
He raises his hands in front of him and, releasing a heavy breath, claps them together. He closes his eyes. A boom echoes in the cave. I feel it along my spine. The air around me stirs. The earth below my feet feels unsteady. Emily reaches out to the wall to steady herself. Small pebbles and dirt fall from the roof. I am blinded as a flash of light illuminates the cave.
“Follow me!” Balthazar shouts. “Now!
There is no time to think, only to act. My feet move of their own volition, and we race after Balthazar. I leap over the stalagmites, breaking some as I run. Sweat pours down my face. The roof of the cave is falling. My legs are burning. Emily and Gabriel are in front of me, moving with speed I cannot match. Behind me, amidst the din of breaking stone, I hear the strange voice calling me back. “Come to us, Jessamine! Come, darkling!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Cry in the Night
We are in the parlor. Weak morning sunlight bleeds through the windows. Emily is asleep in a wingback chair across from me, her breath coming in quiet, easy puffs. She didn’t even make it up the steps. I can still see her fingers glowing white-hot as she clawed at the devilish creature. Gabriel sits and scribbles in his little book. He used his voice as a weapon. How?
I have barely slept. Before I got into bed, I took one last look at my weapons. The braided ends of the lash were still wet with the ghoul’s blood. The battle remains a blur. All I can recall is the whip lashing out and then curling around the beast’s neck. To most people these are just simple objects, but to those with supernatural abilities, they are deadly weapons.
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