For a moment, Jocasta had to restrain herself from laughing. If she ever thought of a perfect villain for a story, Malachi would fit the bill.
“Who is this?” Malachi was looking directly at her, but obviously not talking to her.
“Ah,” Darius said. “This is Lady Jocasta, of House Whispering Pines. She has come to…ah…treat with you? To try to come to terms for her House. And this is Willow, who—”
“I know who that is,” Malachi snarled. “Do you think I’m an idiot? What’s she doing here?”
Jocasta was good at reading body language, and Malachi appeared to be uncomfortable in the presence of the healer. That was a good sign.
“She’s come to join,” Darius said. “I believe she sees the way things are going and wants in on the winning side.”
“I want to survive,” Willow said, her voice full of disdain. “Even if I do find your methods repugnant.”
Malachi stared at her, staying silent. Then, “We’ll see. I don’t trust you, healer.” He turned to Darius. “And I’m not sure about you, either. Why do I feel that you’re up to something?”
He narrowed his eyes, and Darius stiffened, sweat breaking out on his brow.
Jocasta knew next to nothing about magic, but given what they’d all discussed, she believed that Malachi was burrowing into Darius’s mind, trying to root out any hidden plots.
“It’s not him you have to worry about, you piece of filth,” Jocasta sneered.
She drew a dagger, her arm going down to grab it, then back up and over her shoulder for a throw in one easy motion. Her role was to be a distraction, but she had every intention of finishing the job if she could and putting the knife right into his eye.
Then, she remembered that she couldn’t. They needed him alive to tell them how to stop the madness infecting their Houses.
Malachi spun, snarling and raising his hands. A force hit Jocasta, not so much a physical one, although her head did rock back with the strength of it. Instead, it was as if something were squeezing her brain.
She’d never felt anything like it before, not even in front of that gate. That had been vile, wrong, a sickness that didn’t belong in the world. This was pure pressure.
She dropped her arm and let her gaze unfocus, watching Malachi smile.
“So, you did bring an assassin in,” he said.
“No!” Darius insisted. “She said she wanted to—”
His words were cut off midsentence.
“Silence,” Malachi whispered. “It’s a shame you weren’t here before. You could have taken your final reward with the rest.” He smiled. “It’s not too late. Besides, have you forgotten that you already belong to me?”
He curled his hand into a fist and twisted it in the air.
Darius cocked his head and looked back at him. Malachi frowned and repeated the motion.
“Something wrong?” Darius asked.
“The healer!” Malachi spat. “You must live up to your reputation if you were able to undo my work. No matter. I have other ways.”
He threw out his hands, fingers crooked, and a blue, shimmering light appeared in the air in front of him. Malachi’s eyes were focused squarely on Willow as the field spread.
“You first,” he purred. “You’ll be a powerful addition to the blood sacrifice.”
Willow stiffened, her eyes never leaving Malachi.
It was time. Jocasta pulled back, aimed, and threw in one swift motion. Her dagger flashed through the air between them and hit home with a satisfying sound.
Malachi let out a brief scream and dropped his hands, grabbing the dagger that stuck out of his right shoulder with his left hand. The blue shimmer in the air disappeared. Then, he started to laugh.
Jocasta frowned, unsure of what she was seeing. The man must be as mad as Jamshir.
He pulled the dagger free, still chuckling and tossed it casually back toward her. It fell on the floor near her foot, totally devoid of blood. There was none on the knife and none appearing on the front of Malachi’s robe.
“Children’s toys,” Malachi sneered. “Although how you’re resisting me is intriguing. You, I might leave alive. These two however…”
He slowly turned back to Darius and Willow.
They shrank back, and Jocasta drew her other dagger. The first one might not have hurt him, but one in the temple should be a different story.
Her throw went wild at a simple gesture from Malachi. The dagger flew up, impaling a ceiling beam overhead.
Malachi laughed softly. “You are persistent,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll….”
Then his voice dragged to a drawl and his eyes lost their focus.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Jocasta heard Thaddeus say behind her.
A sheet of flame, almost white hot in its intensity flared into life in front of Malachi, forming into a circle and starting to surround him.
Thaddeus entered the room, hands moving, manipulating the flame so that it formed a cage around Malachi, closing in tighter. Strangely, it didn’t leave any scorch marks on the floor as it moved inward.
Melanie came behind him, her face screwed tight in concentration. She moved to Darius, hand held out, and Darius took it. Willow grabbed her other one and the three stared at Malachi, held motionless behind Thaddeus’s tube of fire.
The strain was showing already. All three of them were sweating, their chests heaving. Only Thaddeus seemed calm.
“I’d rather not burn you alive, Malachi,” he said. “But I will. Give up. Let Melanie into your mind so we know you’re not going try anything and—”
With a roar, Malachi moved, his arms slashing through the air. Thaddeus’s fire snuffed out like a candle flame and the other three staggered, their hands losing contact with each other.
“Do you think me that weak?” Malachi screamed. “Even before the blood sacrifice, I was stronger than any of you! All of you! Now? Now you’re nothing more than insects!”
Flame roared to life again, only this time it was around Thaddeus. The mage threw his hands out to try to stop it. It closed in on him anyway. His screams split the air and Melanie moved toward him, getting no further than a step before she was frozen in place.
With a contemptuous wave of Malachi’s hand, Darius was thrown back against the wall, his mouth gaping as he fought for breath. Willow ran to him, and Malachi laughed at her efforts to pull him away, any attempt at healing obviously not working.
Jocasta sprang across the desk, slamming into Malachi. She wrapped her arms around his, trying to keep them pinned to his side, and slammed her forehead into his nose with a sickening crack.
Malachi grunted, and she did it again, then again. Each time, the crunch of bone rang in her ears.
There was a sharp pain across her lower back and she felt blood flow. Another followed, deeper this time, across her left shoulder.
She screamed in pain and rage and lifted Malachi, turning and slamming him down onto his desk. The roar of the flames around Thaddeus stopped and Darius drew in a tremendous gasp of air.
Beneath her, Malachi growled like an animal and she felt another cut open on her leg, then another in the same area.
She head-butted him again, but the pain she was fighting took most of the force away.
A hand touched her shoulder.
“My turn,” Solomon said.
Chapter 83
Solomon crept toward the doorway, listening to the activity inside the room. He heard the screams and the roar of flames. He heard Malachi boast of his strength.
He clenched his fists against his sides, fighting the urge to run in and put an end to it. Thaddeus had told him to stay put until he was summoned. Until Malachi was well in hand and unable to flee.
Then, he heard Jocasta scream, her voice full of agony. Something inside him twisted, his vision almost going blurry for a moment. A visceral reaction propelled him into motion before he even thought to stop himself.
He entered the room in time to see Thaddeus being bur
ned alive and Darius pressed against a wall fighting for breath, while Willow tried in vain to help him. Melanie was frozen in mid-step, trying to reach Thaddeus. He saw Jocasta lift the pale man in the black robes and slam him onto the desk.
When the cuts opened on her and she screamed again, Solomon had had enough.
He crossed the room in quick strides, coming behind the desk and reaching out for Jocasta.
“My turn,” he said.
Jocasta’s head turned and her usual angry glare was replaced by pure pain.
She rolled to the side, falling off the man who Solomon assumed was Malachi.
Malachi only had time to say, “You!” before Solomon hit him with all his strength.
Solomon was strong even for one of the Folk, and there weren’t many who could fend off one of his blows, especially when helpless. His fist caught Malachi under the chin, slamming the back of his head into the top of the desk.
Malachi sneered and started to sit back up.
Solomon hit him again, this time a straight shot to the nose, already bent from Jocasta’s attack. Malachi fell back onto the desk with a cry, then feebly tried to rise again. The third blow did the trick.
“Everyone okay?” Solomon asked, stepping back from the unconscious man.
They weren’t.
Darius was having a hard time breathing and Thaddeus was passed out on the floor, his skin blackened and oozing, smoke still rising from him. Melanie had collapsed before Malachi was driven unconscious, but now she sprang to her feet and staggered to him.
“Willow!” she screamed. “Thaddeus needs you!”
Willow stayed near Darius, talking quietly to him.
“Willow!” Melanie screamed again.
The healer turned her head, saw Thaddeus and rose to her feet, crossing the room in an instant. She knelt next to him and started chanting, her eyes closing and hands hovering over his body.
Good. For a moment, Solomon wasn’t sure she was going to help him. He was glad that she did. Willow never would have forgiven herself if she knowingly let someone truly suffer.
“Melanie, Darius,” he said, “come over here and let Willow do her work. You two need to make sure this one stays down.”
He turned to Jocasta, who had worked herself to the windows and sat with her back against them, smears of blood on the floor showing her progress.
“I can get Willow here in a few minutes,” Solomon said.
“Let her heal Thaddeus,” Jocasta said. “I’ll be fine. Just help me bind up the cuts.”
Solomon smiled at that. Tough as nails, this one.
He helped her stop the bleeding, although he still wanted Willow to look at her when she could. With the amount of healing Thaddeus would need, it would be a while, though; and he wasn’t sure if she’d have enough strength to tend to Jocasta as well.
“Solomon,” Darius said. “He’s coming around.”
Malachi was starting to stir, his eyes fluttering open. Solomon was impressed. Not many would have been awake this quickly after three of his blows.
“Do you have him?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” Melanie said, her voice dripping venom. “You put him out completely. We’ve got him now.”
Malachi started to struggle, but Melanie whispered a word and he stilled.
Solomon squatted down near him.
“How do we stop what you’ve started?” he asked. “Those gates in Glittering Birch. How do we shut them down?”
Malachi started to laugh. Melanie frowned and muttered a word, yet Malachi continued.
“She can’t hold me for long, you know,” he said. “Even now, she’s slipping. Aren’t you? Then I’ll get free and this time—”
Melanie uttered a strange sounding word and Malachi’s words were cut off, apparently along with his air. His mouth worked, but no sound came out and the skin around his lips started to turn blue.
“I think you’re vastly underestimating her,” Solomon said. “Now. Do you want to answer, or should she let you pass out again?”
With a gasp, Malachi drew in a breath.
“You’re all fools,” he said. “You can’t stop it. Not now. There is no way to shut the gates down.”
“He’s lying,” Darius said.
Solomon glanced at him. “Do you know that? Or are you guessing?”
“I know it. Mel has him in control, I’m reading him. I can’t get deep enough to find out what we need, but I can tell if he’s lying.”
Malachi laughed again. “Oh, very good. Very good. With the two of you, and that one over there, the blood sacrifice would have truly made me unstoppable.”
Solomon lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know. You went down pretty easy.”
“He’s not lying,” Darius said quietly.
“Be that as it may,” Solomon said, “they weren’t here, and now you’re in our control. You’re lying about shutting the gates down. You have one more chance.”
“And then what?” Malachi sneered. “What will you do?”
“I’ll kill you,” Solomon said simply. “Why keep you alive if you can’t help us?”
He stared directly at Malachi as he said this and watched the belief dawn in the other man’s eyes. He should have believed him. Solomon was telling the truth.
“You’re going to kill me anyway,” Malachi finally said.
Solomon shrugged. “Maybe. But not right now. If you cooperate.”
Malachi seemed to consider. “Kill me, then,” he finally answered. “You can’t shut the gates down.”
“He’s still lying,” Darius said, “but there is some truth to what he’s saying.”
Solomon thought. “Where are these gates? Only at Glittering Birch?”
“Yes,” Malachi spat.
“Lying,” said Darius.
“There are some here, then,” Solomon said. “Good to know. Mel, any way you can make him more forthcoming?”
“It will hurt him,” Melanie said, “so yeah, I can do that.”
Solomon got up and walked over to Willow while Melanie went to work. Behind him, he heard Malachi whimper, then silence. Normally, he abhorred such tactics, but all the evil that infected the Greenweald, from the Soul Gaunts forward, had been Malachi’s fault. Let him feel a little of what he so casually gave others.
Willow was sitting with her legs under her, her hands on her lap and hair hanging in her face.
“How is he?” he asked.
“He’ll live. He’ll be scarred. But he’ll be alive.”
Solomon placed his hand on her shoulder in thanks.
“If you can,” he said quietly, “Jocasta needs attention, too.”
Willow nodded tiredly. “In a moment.”
“Good enough,” he said and walked back to Malachi.
He looked at Melanie and raised his eyebrow. Whatever she was doing, she stopped, and Malachi let out a long, low groan.
“Where are the gates?” Solomon asked again.
Malachi raised one wavering hand and pointed at the bookshelves lining the wall. Melanie tensed as she let him do it, then clamped down again when it was done.
Without a word, Solomon rose and walked to the bookshelf. Of course, there was a secret door here. It was the work of a few minutes to find the book that opened it when pulled forward. Solomon almost laughed at the cliché of it.
Beyond, was a hallway, leading to a set of stairs going down. He took them, and came to a heavy, iron-strapped wooden door, exactly as in Dunfield. Unlike that one, this one opened easily, revealing an almost identical chamber.
Except the large gate filled with green and yellow colors in this one covered an entire wall, and instead of a few smaller gates around it, there were many. The one with the swirling grays of House Towering Oaks was near the greens of Whispering Pines in another. A muddy brown one that he felt led to Dunfield was on another wall. Others of various colors, all leading to different worlds.
And there. Solomon felt his blood run cold when he saw the blue and white swirls of
yet another gate. A gate that he was sure led to the home of his friends Lacy and Luke, and of course, Daisy, the Hunting Hound who chose to stay with them.
This was evil on an inconceivable scale.
It was all coming from that large gate. Even standing this close to it was enough to make his stomach turn over. He saw now why Jocasta had reacted the way she had.
It was sickening. Not only the pure wrongness of the thing, but beneath that, the joy. Whatever this was, whatever was beyond it, feeding it, it was doing it with great glee.
Malachi was only partially lying. There was no way to shut the gates down from here. There was only one way, the way Solomon usually attacked problems.
Go to the source.
He was steeling himself to do that when he heard footsteps behind him. Jocasta entered, her color better, but her steps still stiff, followed by Willow.
“Everything still okay?” he asked.
Jocasta stared past him at the huge gate and the riotous colors.
“It is,” Willow said. “Darius and Melanie have put Malachi back to sleep and are discussing how to best keep him there. Even with what they’ve done, he’s fighting them. Thaddeus will need rest.”
“Thanks for healing him,” Solomon smiled.
“It’s what I do,” she replied. “And what are you doing?”
“He’s going in there,” Jocasta said.
Solomon laughed quietly.
“Don’t see any other way to do it, do you?”
“Nope,” Jocasta answered. “So let’s go.”
“You’re not going,” Solomon said.
“Don’t be stupid, of course I am.”
Solomon opened his mouth to argue, and Willow cut him off.
“Let her, Solomon. Not that I think you could stop her. You’ll need help. And who better than…”
She faltered and both Solomon and Jocasta looked at her.
“Than?” Solomon prompted.
“Your sister, of course,” Willow finished.
“That’s impossible!” Jocasta said.
Solomon stayed quiet.
“I assure you, it’s not only possible, it is fact.” Willow took Jocasta’s hands. “Embrace it. There are far worse things.”
Jocasta tore her hands away and turned to Solomon. “I …”
Solomon's Journey Page 42
