Hereditary Curse (The Gatekeeper's Curse Book 2)

by Emma L. Adams

  Silence answered. I stepped back and Morgan appeared at my side. “I vote we get out of this graveyard,” he said.

  “I would too, but can you sense anyone? River, where are you?”

  “Here,” he said from several feet in front of me.

  “I don’t understand.” Understatement of the bloody century. “Maybe the fetch is back.”

  The greyness continued to spread. I grabbed a headstone for balance as cold air blew from somewhere beyond the greyness, sharp and sudden, threatening to rip me free of my body.

  The air shimmered over the grey. Then the smoke went transparent, and before us lay… a castle. Shimmering overlaid the world, but the dark shape remained steady, where the church had been moments before. The graves had gone, leaving nothing but damp grass and shadowy edges.

  “Holy shit,” Morgan breathed. “Where are we?”

  “The Vale?” I said uncertainly.

  “Not the Vale,” River said quietly. “This is—was—a key point where the spirit lines intersect. A liminal space. The human and faerie realms merge here, I would guess. That castle is no human creation.”

  Like the Summer estate. But this place couldn’t be more different even from Winter. The castle sat beneath a night sky, dotted with stars brighter than any I’d seen, and behind it, shadowy edges suggested trees hidden by fog. But all else faded to the background when a familiar pale light reached me from the castle.

  “Oh my god.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “The book. It’s in there—it’s been hidden in a liminal space the whole time.”

  Not the Grey Vale. No… the Vale wasn’t controllable. The fetch must have been operating from here, too. It’d evaded our attention by using the exact same magic our family used to hide the Lynn house. Using a liminal space, a gap between the worlds. The book was inside the castle. Maybe Hazel was, too.

  “I’m going in,” I muttered. “I can’t say it isn’t suspicious that nobody’s guarding the place, but it’s hidden well enough that I suppose they don’t need to.”

  River swore under his breath. “I can’t use magic on the castle. It’s an illusion—a glamour. A really advanced one.”

  “This is basically Faerie, right?” said Morgan. “But… linked up to Earth as well.” He strode up to the door and shoved it. The door didn’t budge. “It’s sealed shut. No lock.”

  “Okay, breaking the door down won’t do it,” I said. “I wouldn’t use magic here. This place has enough power already. Too much. It’ll end up spilling over into the city if we’re not careful.” And where the faeries’ magic went, people died. The whole of Edinburgh was covered in endless spirit lines. It’d only take one misplaced surge of energy for the dead to rise once more.

  “The ghost isn’t here. She can’t leave the graveyard,” said River. “And the book won’t obey her.”

  “She seemed convinced it would. But even if she kills all of us, it’ll go into hibernation. It needs there to be a Lynn as Gatekeeper. And I thought she knew that.”

  “Oh, I know everything about your book,” said the ghost, appearing at my side “This is a nice spell, isn’t it? One of my half-faeries did it.”

  “You can’t leave your graveyard,” I told her.

  “We’re still in the graveyard… technically.” She laughed. “It was a powerful curse, the one your ancestor put on me. She took my power, almost all of it, and trapped me in this cursed human form, as punishment for taking her life. It’s too bad that you let the book slip through your fingers, Ilsa. This need not have happened. If only you’d handed your brother over while you had the chance. The fetch won’t let his victim get away.”

  “What the—?” Morgan broke off, choking, as two half-faeries grabbed him from behind, locking his arms behind his back. “You should be gone by now.”

  “Not as long as the gate is locked.”

  “That’s what you did,” I said. “You locked the gate. With my book’s magic?”

  “It had help.” She waved a hand. The castle walls went see-through, showing me a wide hall with a high ceiling. And in the middle, Hazel lay in a transparent coffin which stood upright, her hands clasped on her chest, around—the book.

  The book glowed bright, yet I felt none of it. I was locked out of my own power. From the glow, it was at full strength. Hazel shone all over with unnatural light, but she hadn’t claimed the book. She was in a drugged sleep, unable to fight.

  The half-faeries dragged Morgan towards the doors, and I ran forwards. A current of air hit me in the face, knocking me flat on my back. As I surged to my feet, a monstrous dog appeared at my side, its clawed foot slamming into my chest. Ow.

  The hellhound’s foot pinned me down, cutting off my breath.

  “Don’t struggle,” murmured the ghost. “I wonder how I’ll kill you. When your brother takes the book and becomes Gatekeeper, taking your life will no longer have adverse side effects. Of course, when he dies, the killers will take the curse onto themselves, but that won’t be our problem.”

  My head spun. The weight of the hellhound’s foot pressed on me. “You’re saying you want to force the book to choose Morgan instead?”

  “The book is bound to preserve the Gatekeeper’s life. I learnt my lesson from the last time.”

  “So you want to pass it on to Morgan… so the fetch can kill him, and if the fetch dies and comes back, you all escape the curse. And you’ll have the book.”

  “Right you are.” She smiled. “Too bad your ancestors didn’t see this one coming.”

  “You’re mad.” I struggled. “You have Hazel, who, by the way, is the Gatekeeper’s heir to Summer. They’ll come here when they know what you’ve done.”

  “No, they won’t,” she said. “According to rumour, the Courts are on the brink of war with one another. The Gatekeepers’ jobs will be unnecessary when they’re both destroyed. Your sister might even thank me for stopping her from having to deal with the fallout.”

  A humming noise struck up in my ears. Magic… no, the book, its power glowing brighter than even the castle. That power could destroy even us, the Gatekeepers. Morgan struggled against the half-faeries as they dragged him towards the castle.

  River lunged after him, but several half-faerie ghosts shoved him backwards. He spun around, seeing the hellhound, and stalked towards me, but the faeries reached him first. As his blade flashed, aiming at the hellhound, Winter magic struck his weapon hand. His body froze, ice creeping up his arm, as the blade fell harmlessly to the floor. Three half-faeries swarmed him, holding him down as he struggled, golden hair falling across his face, desperation in his eyes. He shouted my name, as the hellhound’s foot came down on my chest, and my vision blurred.

  “Take the book, Morgan Lynn,” the ghost said. “Or both of your sisters die.”

  23

  Under the hellhound’s crushing weight, I shifted, catching Morgan’s eye. Panic was etched on his face, and he hardly reacted when the half-faeries jabbed him with their ghostly weapons. They had him surrounded, backed up against the castle doors. In the end, the fetch didn’t need to persuade him, not with our lives in danger. He had no choice. If he didn’t take the book, the ghost would have Hazel killed. The doors opened, inviting Morgan into the castle. He swore, stepping over the threshold towards Hazel.

  “Take it,” said the ghost. “Take it, claim it. You’ve wanted to do it the whole time. Don’t deny you have. It’s yours as much as your sister’s.”

  “And I take it and let the fetch into my head, right?” said Morgan.

  “Naturally,” said the ghost. “If you’re planning to use iron to stop that from happening, then your sister dies. Stray from the path, and one or both of them will die.”

  He stopped, with a harsh laugh. “Like I think you’re planning to ever let them go,” he said. “You’re not going to let any of us leave here alive, are you? You won’t let the Gatekeeper go wandering off when you have the power you need. I’ll be your puppet for however long my life lasts, but you know Ilsa could
always take the book back from me, at any time. You won’t risk that. You’ll finish her first. And when Hazel dies, so does peace in Faerie and here. There’ll be nothing left to rule over.”

  “Some would choose nothing over war,” said the ghost. “As it is now, nobody can die. They exist in limbo, like us. Like those poor fools left in the Vale.”

  Limbo. The gate didn’t exist here. I swallowed hard, concentrated on the book, and I willed its power to come to me instead—but it didn’t respond. The coffin kept it ensnared. No wonder we hadn’t been able to find the spirit barrier’s boundaries. The coffin was the boundary. Nothing could enter it. And nothing could escape until someone picked up the book.

  Then I’d have to find another way.

  I closed my eyes, and floated from my body, directly in front of the hellhound’s face. They weren’t very bright, and when it raised a paw in confusion, I lunged back into my body, reaching wildly for River’s sword. My hands found the blade but missed the hilt, the sharp edge cutting my hand before the hellhound’s clawed foot came down again.

  The ghost laughed. “Take the book, Morgan!”

  Blood dripped from my cut hand onto the damp grass. “Hey,” I said to the hellhound pinning me. “Want to meet a friend?”

  “What are you talking about?” said the ghost.

  “What I said.” I sucked in a painful breath, the hellhound’s claws digging into my chest. “Hellhounds, I summon you. Open the Vale.”

  Her eyes widened. “What—”

  Flashes of light speared through the air, and a hellhound materialised, followed by several others.

  “They’re unattached, you fool,” the ghost said. “They won’t obey you.”

  “They will. I’m Gatekeeper. Attack her, and attack those half-faeries!” I shouted at the hellhounds.

  The half-faeries, realising they were solid enough to suffer damage, backed away—and River broke free, pelting for the castle door. It’d closed behind Morgan, sealed shut.

  As he did so, the hellhound pinning me raised its foot to swipe at its neighbour, and I rolled free, dragging my weary body upright. My hand continued to drip blood, and I caught up with River at the door.

  “I can’t open it.” He’d wedged the blade between the door and the wall, but even his faerie talisman didn’t make a dent in it.

  “Let me try. Wish I could fetch the book.” I grabbed the door and shoved it, pulled at the edges, blasted it with the little necromantic power I could conjure. It was like the damned castle had a forcefield around it. Of course it’d let Morgan through, but that was the plan.

  River grabbed one of the half-faerie ghosts by the scruff of his neck. The faerie yelped, struggling, but River dragged him towards us. “Tell me how to get into the castle, you bastard.”

  “You—can’t,” choked the faerie.

  “If you don’t want to be hellhound food, tell me,” I said. “How do I get my sister out of that coffin? You should know, hellhounds feed on death energy. Don’t think being a ghost means they can’t hurt you.”

  He howled. “Stop! The castle will only let people in who she allows.”

  Morgan shouted aloud from inside the castle. I spun around, my heart free-falling. Hazel and the coffin floated into the air, the book clenched in her hands. Glowing white power radiated off its surface, and raw horror pounded through me.

  The half-faerie broke free from River’s grip, snarling. “Serve him right. He’ll die from the very book you risked your friends’ lives to protect.”

  Morgan fell to his knees, clutching his head. Was the fetch back—or was the book hurting him somehow? If he’d tried to claim it… no. Please, no.

  “I summon you, fetch,” I gasped.

  It didn’t appear. It was still dead. So the book must be affecting Morgan. I hammered the door with my fists, my bleeding hand staining the glass-like surface, to no effect.

  The ghost floated overhead, laughing as the hellhounds tore into one another, half-faerie ghosts panicked, and Morgan screamed in pain. She halted beside the castle, letting out another wild laugh, watching the book’s power radiate from my sister’s unmoving hands and strike the walls of the castle like lightning bolts. I felt none of its power myself. The barrier was too strong. Hazel continued to hover, her eyes unseeing, her forehead glowing. Her Gatekeeper power must be reacting against the book, but being powered by life, like River, she couldn’t draw on any magic in this place even if she’d been conscious to use it.

  Using more blood magic wouldn’t help me. Think, Ilsa. I left my body, floating towards the door, but the ghost appeared before me, a manic grin on her face. “Only a Lynn can touch that book, Ilsa,” she said. “It’s raw, uncontained power. You can feel it, can’t you?”

  Morgan staggered to his feet and almost immediately fell down again, pushed by the book’s raging power. River fended off half-blood ghosts with his sword, but even a talisman couldn’t kill the dead. We were losing.

  Think, Ilsa. Blood dripped from my hand, and my head swum, my vision blurring. Blood magic… dammit. Ghosts blurred into one, into the grey fog. I swallowed, clenching my uninjured hand. What could I possibly summon to get us out of this situation? The ghost was dead right when she said the necromancers technically could use necromancy anywhere, not tethered to a circle. If they were powerful enough, and willing to take the risk of being overpowered by whatever they summoned, or ripped away beyond the veil. But summoning the Vale’s monsters wouldn’t help us now. Nor old Greaves, or any of the necromancer ghosts who might be around—

  “Grandma,” I whispered. “I summon you. Grandma—Rebecca Lynn.”

  For a moment, I thought it wouldn’t work. The ghost snarled, blood dripped from my hand, and fog closed in. River and the ghost faced off, and she laughed at his attempts to stab her.

  Then the air shimmered, and Grandma’s ghost appeared in front of me.

  “Ilsa,” she said. “What have you done now?”

  “Not me. Her.” I pointed at the ghost, whose attention remained on River.

  “Thea,” said Grandma, regarding the ghost with solemn eyes.

  “Wait—you’ve met?” I stared at her.

  “I’ve met most of the residents on this side of the veil by now. What’s she done?”

  “Locked up Hazel in a castle with the book. The only one who can touch it is Morgan, but if he does, he’ll be seen as trying to claim it. It’ll kill him, or me. I’d give it up, but Hazel—if anyone goes near her now, she’ll die.”

  “Then I’ll remove it,” said Grandma.

  “What—but you’re—”

  “The book can be touched by the dead as well as the living. And I’m guessing the arrangement involves anyone who bears the Lynn name. I’m the only one on this side of the veil who doesn’t belong to the land of the living. If I take the book, I won’t be able to claim it, and nobody will be harmed.”

  “Grandma!” I shouted, but she was already floating towards the castle. Thea turned on her with a snarl, but she passed through the door into the hall, past Morgan, whose mouth hung open.

  Grandma’s hands closed around the book. Power radiated out, bouncing off the walls, and my bones rattled with it. Hey… I can feel it. Come back, power. You’re mine.

  The word mine reverberated in my head as she lifted the book out of Hazel’s hands. The coffin fell away, and Hazel dropped. I ran forward, shouting her name, but Morgan got there first, catching her in his arms.

  The book glowed bright enough to burn my eyelids. I staggered towards the door, reaching out for the book, but a force slammed into me, lifting me off my feet. My back hit the earth and I barely rolled out of the way of a hellhound’s claws.

  Hazel let out a choked noise. Morgan’s hands were locked around her throat. “Then I will take him,” growled the fetch’s voice. “Too bad—the Gatekeeper dies, and I feast.”

  The ghost laughed. Hazel gasped, struggling against his grip. I ran towards Grandma’s ghost, reaching for the book.

  A
heavy blow hit me in the back of the head. My vision doubled, warmth trickling down the back of my neck. Pain pulsed from my wounded hand. Grandma shouted my name. The book was within reach, but even that couldn’t heal a fatal injury.

  No. I can’t…

  Hazel’s body went limp in Morgan’s hands, and he turned on me, grinning—

  As Grandma slammed the book into my hands.

  A familiar power rushed through my veins, but my right hand was too limp to turn the pages, my vision too blurred to read them. I croaked out the banishing words, but even they couldn’t banish the ghost. This place was locked out of death.

  Leave…

  I floated out of my body, still clutching the book. Without the pain distracting me, the right words came to mind, and I waved a hand, the hellhounds vanishing one by one. The ghost hissed in annoyance, but triumph shone from her features at the sight of Hazel lying half dead in Morgan’s arms. I floated towards them, shouting, “Hazel—the iron! In his pocket!”

  Hazel’s eyes opened, and she jumped out of Morgan’s arms, drawing a knife. As Morgan grabbed her, she shoved the iron blade into his hands.

  The fetch screamed, and I saw it float free of Morgan’s body, its malevolent dog-like form hovering on a level with me. Hazel shoved the castle doors open and all but dragged a dazed-looking Morgan after her. I backed up, seeing the fetch move behind them. It wasn’t dead.

  The fetch leapt, its body transforming. Its paws lengthened, its body growing in size, like a hellhound on steroids—and it jumped, straight into River’s blade. He sliced downwards, decapitating the beast, and it dissolved into smoke.

  “It shouldn’t come back this time, not with its spirit trapped in there.” He closed the castle door, then ran to my side. “Ilsa…”

  “I’m okay,” I said, touching the back of my head. Blood. Ow. Not good.

  “Hang on.” Morgan approached me, digging into his pocket. With one hand, he pulled out a witch spell. “I got a healing charm.”

  “Good.” River took it from him, passing the spell to me. I slid the bracelet-shaped charm onto my wrist and hit the switch, sighing in relief as the pain faded from my neck, back and hand. The rest of my body ached from the abuse, but I wouldn’t die today.