Seamus cursed.
“Thornton’s minions,” Regina hissed, cocking her pistol.
I centered my energy, and it burst through me. Three of the hooded figures slammed against the wall. Regina’s pistol echoed through the church and two more crumpled to the floor, clutching their chests. Seamus’s fingers blurred with movement, letting arrow after arrow fly through the air.
“There are too many of them,” Seamus shouted, retreating back toward the door. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not without Máirtín!” both Regina and I exclaimed at the same time.
More figures emerged to block the exit, their robes trailing on the dusty floor. As one body, they threw their hoods back, revealing white shriveled faces lined with spider veins. I gasped, a wave of sickness falling over me at the sight of their slimy, wrinkled skins. Their eye sockets were completely hollow except for blue pinpricks of glowing light.
A searing heat burned through my skull, and I grabbed my head as I collapsed to the floor, my brain nearly bursting with pressure. Regina and Seamus shrieked in agony, all of us writhing, trying to escape the invisible waves of pain tearing apart our minds.
Cold, slimy fingers latched onto my arm, and through the pressure beating down on my head, I managed to look up and came face-to-face with the death mask of one of the figures, its terrible gaping smile revealing black, rotting teeth. I made to scurry away, but he held me close, the stench of rotting meat making me gag. I tried to center myself through the daggers tearing through my brain, assert my aisling powers, but every time I did, the pain ripped through me, leaving me nearly blind. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, trying to find a way through the horrible sensation destroying my mind. Beside me, Seamus and Regina breathed hard, trying to suppress their cries.
“Ah, lovely,” I heard a familiar voice say. “More guests.”
Edward Thornton materialized from the shadows. His waxy face appeared jaundiced in the dim light, his limp hair combed in a tight part. He had given up his usual tailored suit for a long black robe, similar to the ones worn by his minions, and it made a whispering sound as he approached us.
“And look who it is, my children. Elizabeth Tanner. My, my…” Thornton traced his finger across my jawline. “This is a very pleasant surprise.”
Struggling against the cloaked zombie who had me pinned, I spit in Thornton’s face. He blinked once, studying me like a small fly. Then he smiled. A new level of pain exploded behind my eyes, and I doubled over, only the slimy hands of my captor holding me up. Black spots crowded my vision, and I forced myself to remain alert. Finn needed me, and I was running out of time.
Thornton crouched over me, and he ran his fingers over the crown of my head and down the length of my hair.
“You will have a special place in our little ritual tonight,” he said.
“Where’s Máirtín?” Regina snarled, lunging for Thornton. “Where’s my husband?”
He threw his hand in the air, and she slumped to the ground. Regina writhed on the floor, straining beneath an invisible weight. Her eyes turned dull, her head lolling on her chest. I glanced over at Seamus, who inched across the floor as if through a sea of mud. Thornton had somehow pacified these warriors, and now they squirmed, as weak as kittens.
Thornton snapped his fingers, and my knees turned to Jell-O, my arms heavy like someone had poured concrete around my body. I tried to scream, but the effort felt too great, and I crumpled against the floor, exhausted and out of breath. Closing my eyes, I tried to reach deep into the well of my powers, but whatever spell Thornton had put me under zapped my ability to even do a simple travel out of there. A wave of bile burned up through my throat, and it took all my will to swallow it down. Finn’s face, clammy and drained of color, kept flashing in my mind, but I was powerless under Thornton’s thumb.
His minions swarmed us, dragging us across the nave of the church and down a flight of stairs. They threw us into a small chamber in the basement, and the door clicked shut, a large key turning sharply in the lock.
“Regina!” Máirtín lay huddled in the corner, shaking from the cold. He tried to get up, but he fell back to the floor in a helpless heap.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his syllables slightly slurred with trying to talk.
“Yes.” She crawled over to him, each movement a horrible strain on her body. “But he’s done something to us.”
“A suppression spell,” Máirtín said through chattering teeth. “Both physical and magical.”
“Thornton said…something about a ritual…” I spoke through a fog, each word a struggle to enunciate.
He looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “What are you doing here?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It’s Finn. He’s hurt. He’s dying.”
“And you came to seek me out to heal him?”
I nodded.
Máirtín leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes. “He plans to sacrifice us to a demon. I heard his Adepts talking about it.”
“A…a demon?” I gasped. What fresh hell was this? “Demon, like pointy-tail and pitchfork demon?”
Máirtín exchanged a look with Regina, and she glanced away, a pained look on her face that told me all I needed to know. We were up shit creek Supernatural-style, and I was all out of holy water. A cold trickle of sweat trailed down my spine, my breath coming out in quick pants. Finn could be dead by now, and I was stuck in a cellar, my powers useless. I could barely wipe the snot from my nose, the tip burning from the chill in the room. I had to figure this out, and fast.
“Is there any way out of here?” Seamus scanned the length of the chamber, but only a few old robes and a stack of crumbling files remained in the abandoned storage room.
“The sublevel is solid rock.” Máirtín shook his head slowly. “We’re trapped.”
I choked back a cry, my chest tightening. The silence in the room overpowered me, and I folded my arms tighter around my legs in an effort to make myself smaller against the frigid air.
“Finn’s dying, Máirtín. What are we going to do?” The words sounded hoarse and tight in the small chamber.
“Finn is not going to die, and neither are we.” Seamus pressed his shaking hands against the stone, seeking a fissure in the rock. The only window was a tiny square about a foot wide, eight feet above us. Even if we had the strength to climb the wall, we’d never fit through it.
“We’ll find a way out of here.” Seamus crawled slowly around the floor, searching through the old robes.
“How?” Regina inched closer to Máirtín and took his hand. “We can’t access our weapons and there’s no way out.”
I stared down at my useless hands, willing my energy to return so I could break down the door. But not even a hint of power sparked through my fingers. I had to get beneath the spell somehow, see if I could unravel it. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes, and a memory flashed in my mind of how I broke the bonds connecting me to Bres, how the leather had burst into ash on the battlefield as I charged toward him. I had unwoven wards by pulling apart the magical threads holding them together. This spell couldn’t be so different, could it? I searched deep in the darkness, seeking out the weaves of the enchantment suppressing all my energy.
In my peripheral vision, I sensed the dark, shadowy strands of Thornton’s spell, and I reached out with my mind through the liminal plane where magic binds itself to our physical world. Something cold and corrupt brushed up against my consciousness, and my heart leaped into my throat. I lunged for it with my mind, but it slipped away just beyond my reach. I hovered alone in the shadowlands, feeling the spell recoiling and slithering away from me then disappearing into nothingness.
My eyes snapped open.
“Fuck,” I hissed, holding my head in my hands.
There was no way I could I unravel whatever evil magic Thornton used, not in the time I had. But if I could find a way to get Thornton to release me from the spell, then maybe I could get us a
ll out of there…and heal Finn. The only way to do that would be to beat Thornton at his own game.
“You guys.” I raised my head. “I think I have a plan.”
Regina quirked an eyebrow at me, and Seamus sighed.
Ignoring them, I turned to Máirtín. “Tell me everything you know about demons.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hours later, the door opened and the Adepts filed in, pulling us to standing. The spell had kept us pacified, barely able to lift our arms and legs the whole time. My throat burned with thirst, but I tried to focus on gathering the last ounce of energy I had left to execute my plan. The sound of chanting flooded the storage room, and a wave of some dark, powerful force washed over me, clutching at my insides. Máirtín cast me a disapproving look as one of the Adepts dragged him out of the chamber, but I stared forward, resolute.
A cold hand clutched my sweater, leading me up the steps.
“I need to talk to Thornton now.” I tried to wrench away, but my limbs felt too heavy.
“This isn’t going to work,” Regina hissed.
I ignored her. “Tell Thornton I can take him to The Tree of Life!”
With a sharp tug, the Adept forced us up the stairs and into the church. I crossed the threshold leading up to the altar, and the overwhelming smell of sulfur burned my nostrils, a deep, sickening feeling of dread permeating my limbs. The air felt thick, and my lungs constricted with the lack of oxygen in the room. The sound of chanting Adepts echoed louder through the rafters, their low voices reverberating in my chest.
Thornton stood at the head of the church, his eyes closed and his body swaying, lost in the incessant drone of some sort of spell. The air wavered around him, like the shimmer off a hot engine in July, but an unnatural cold clenched at my heart. I felt like I stood on the edge of a vast canyon, a dark abyss just beyond the edge of our reality pulling at my feet.
Thornton’s eyes snapped open, and he leveled his gaze at me. His pupils shone bright beneath the dark hood of his cloak, and the flickering black candles threw ghostly shadows against his pale, waxy face.
“Prepare our offerings for sacrifice,” he uttered to a nearby Adept. “Our Master draws near.”
The Adepts made to shove us toward the altar.
“No!” My voice came out choked and strained, and I swallowed, struggling against the suppression spell. “Let my friends go, and I’ll take you to The Tree of Life.”
The Adept holding me hesitated for a moment, and I stepped away, immediately collapsing to my knees. “I can do it. I know where it is and how to find it.”
Thornton shook his head. “That’s impossible. The Tree of Life is hidden in Mag Mell. Only a god can enter it.”
Mag Mell?
Recognition dawned on me. The heaven of the ancient Irish Gods. The “Plain of Joy.” Seems a good a place as any to store a magic tree.
“Yes, well,” I stammered, trying to hold myself up a little higher. “Birog told me how to get there. I can open a portal and send you through it. Just let my friends go.”
He cracked an oily smile. “Do you take me for a fool, Elizabeth Tanner?”
I swallowed the snarky comment tingling in the back of my throat. Finn was all that mattered.
“I know the magic is wearing on you,” I said. “I know how it eats at your soul.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know nothing.”
“I’m offering you The Tree of Life. Life, the universe. Everything. You want this, Thornton.” I gestured to the Fianna. “Just let my friends go.”
Thornton pegged me with a dark stare. “I can smell your lies. Your skin reeks of Fae treachery.”
I shrugged. “I could be lying, but there’s only one way to find out.”
The Magister paused. The chanting continued in the background, swelling in intensity like the roll of thunder before a storm. A wind from nowhere picked up, ruffling the papery thin pages of stray Bibles, blowing strands of hair across my face.
“So what’s it going to be?” I said. “How much power lies in your mortal body? Why expend it when I can give you what you want?”
He took a step toward me, and I realized how weak he appeared, his long cloak hanging off his wasted form. He gripped the edge of the altar, sweat beading on his upper lip.
“Tell me what Birog said. How can you reach Mag Mell?” he demanded.
My mind raced, thinking back to the Druidess who had never said boo to me my whole time in Teamhair. With a deep breath, I channeled her low voice and commanding presence. “It’s my aisling powers. As the heir to Tír na nÓg, I can create a doorway.”
“And have you done it before?”
“To Fae heaven?” I shook my head. “I hear they don’t get wifi there.”
Thornton’s eyes turned to two dark slits.
“No,” I huffed. “No, I haven’t created a portal, but I’m connected to its source. I can get you there. Just let us go.”
Thornton turned, his gaze glancing up to the rafters. Darkness had fallen and bats crisscrossed through the shadows.
“I know the spell is killing you.” I swallowed hard. “Even if you win The Tree of Life, you will be too weak to wield it.”
Thornton whirled around with a snarl, his glittering eyes boring into me. My stomach dropped to the floor, and for a moment I felt for sure he was about to use his magic to turn my brain to oatmeal. But then he snapped to his Adepts, and in quick synchronized movements, they pulled knives from their cloaks and set them against the Fianna’s throats.
“No!” I cried.
Thornton waved his hand and a ward sprung over Regina, Seamus, and Máirtín and the Adepts who held them captive.
I cursed beneath my breath. Smart. I couldn’t risk pulling a beam-me-up-Scottie and travel the hell out of there with the ward in place. I could never break it in time before the Adepts killed them. The Fianna flashed me wild stares, but I looked away, my attention returning to Thornton. I had to find a way to make this work, no matter what tricks the Magister pulled. If I failed, Finn would die.
“You open the portal first. Then I let the Fianna go.” A Cheshire cat grin spread over his waxy face. “If you deceive me, my Adepts will slit their throats.”
I bit my lip and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
“Deal,” I said.
He nodded and thrust out his palm.
A warm blast of air hit my face, and the tingling, soda pop feeling of my powers rushed back into my hands. I stood up, strength returning to my limbs and, squaring my shoulders, I marched up to the altar. My toe bumped against something electric, and I jumped back in shock. A pentagram scrawled in white chalk filled the entire chancel of the church, the air around it buzzing with negative energy. Something cold clutched at my chest and I gagged, my insides twisting in the grip of some horrible, unseen force. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, not even enough to scream.
The Magister raised his hands and the chanting stopped. The rushing wind ceased like someone had clicked off an industrial fan, and stillness covered the broken pews, the only sound the flutter of pigeon wings high above.
“Lead me to The Tree of Life, or there will be no end to the punishments I’ll force upon you,” Thornton said in a dark voice.
I met his gaze and stifled a smile.
We’ll just see about that.
I closed my eyes and pushed my energy up against the latent force in the room. While the chanting had stopped, the maelstrom the Adepts had summoned still swirled invisibly in the pentagram. I felt the vestiges of their spell like grooves on a carbon copy, the magic imprinting itself on the edge of our reality. Thornton may have given up on the demon temporarily, but the demon hadn’t given up on him. Its power pushed up against the walls of our dimensional plane, its dark fingers grasping and reaching. I forced my mind to pry open the door to our world, and bile rose in my throat as a sick, burning sensation washed over me, every nerve in my body screaming at me to stop. It wasn’t like the Veil, the seductive dance I waltzed with t
hat ancient spell, the way it bent to my will and devoured me at the same time. No. This felt like picking at a festering scab, the pain sharp and revolting, the body fighting it while the brain needing that satisfying rip of flesh. I fell to my knees, the edge of the pentagram right at my fingertips, searing the small hairs on my knuckles.
I screamed, tearing through the air, every nerve in my body bursting with effort.
Thornton shouted at the Adepts, and cold hands tore me away from the altar. I threw them back and they smacked against the pillars lining the aisle.
The smell of rotten eggs and ozone filled the room, and time stood still for a moment. The Adepts were suspended comically in the air. Regina’s hair stood on end. Thornton’s mouth stopped moving mid-scream. Then, with an earth-shattering womp, a dark figure burst through the floor, marble tile crumbling in its wake. A rush of sparks exploded from the altar, showering over us, smoldering on the oak planks. Two taloned feet planted themselves in the middle of the pentagram with a loud boom. The being rose from a crouch, growing in form, a sickly orange light radiating from its body. With a leathery snap, it unfurled its wings, lifting its horned head up to the sky with a piercing scream. The stained glass windows burst in a glittering stream of color, and I folded my arms over my head, the shards nicking my skin like a swarm of hornets.
Oh, sweet Jesus, what the fuck did I just do?
I had gone over the plan with Máirtín a dozen times, but standing in the actual presence of a real-life demon made me question everything that had led me to this point. Paralyzing fear froze my limbs, and I trembled, all my confidence draining from me. I knew when it came to Finn I didn’t have a choice. I would have done anything to save him. But I never would have chosen this path had I actually understood what evil I potentially unleashed on the world. No wonder Máirtín had fought so hard against me.
“Who calls me forth?” the demon spoke, but the words felt like they came from deep in my abdomen, each consonant scraping at my insides.
I glanced up through the crook of my elbow.
Yellow, tiger-like eyes bored into me, turning me inside out. Razor-sharp teeth protruded from its mouth, its nostrils flaring, its scaly body glistening with sweat and rage.
Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles) Page 15
