by LJ Swallow
He scowls at my not-one-hundred-percent-sincere gratitude.
"How about 'thanks Morgan'?" puts in a nearby voice. He stands in the doorway, a smug look on his face. "I've found a clue to our Nephilim bone whereabouts."
I leap to my feet and grab my jacket—I'll deal with Dex later. "Where? How?"
"Cillian checked in with the Horsemen, and Ewan's found a record of bone relics. They're rumoured to be Nephilim but could be ordinary human bones."
"But if they're Nephilim they'll be bigger." I straighten. "Let's go."
"Hold up." Morgan waves at me to sit. "They won't be easy to access. They're held in a private mausoleum."
"Mausoleums? Been there, done that. Why complicated?"
"A well-protected one. First, we need to get near the place, then we have to break in. If something important is inside, you can guarantee it will be warded."
"By what?"
"Well, if you've never detected the bones, I presume angel magic will protect them."
"Shit." My risen spirits sink as quickly as they rose. "I can't go near angel magic. It hurts."
Cillian tips his head. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I'll show you the scars sometime. How about you guys?"
Morgan purses his lips. "We've never had dealings with angels, but I guarantee they won't want anybody's hands on the Nephilim’s remains."
"Is this a whole skeleton? Or just a pile of bones?"
"No idea, Syv. Why?" asks Morgan.
"Because we could just take a little bone." I hold my thumb and forefinger centimetres apart. "Like a toe or something? They might not notice."
A laugh rumbles from Dex. "I think they will notice. And if you have problems around angel magic, I'll have issues getting close too. I have demon blood."
"Good thing Morgan and I don't." Cillian touches my shoulder. "Don't stress, Syv. We'll sort this."
I force a smile, attempting to show I'm okay. Usual Syv, with her usual optimism.
Optimism lacking right now.
"Where's the mausoleum?" I ask. "Please don't tell me it's far."
"A West London cemetery."
My spirits lift. At least we’re in the right country. "Awesome. I’ll grab my coat." I stand.
"Wait until this evening, Syv. I don’t want somebody to see and report us for desecrating graves."
I sink back down again, without protest. He has a point. Once, an over-eager me sought out a vase left on a grave in daylight. I was spotted pulling the fresh flowers out and sprinting away with the stolen item. Let’s just say, it’s a good thing I can run fast.
My third harem member arrives, holding the contract they keep waving around.
One thing I hate is pressure into doing something I’m unsure about. This continuous badgering matches Bastian's coercion. "That better hadn’t be a bloody contract again." Morgan and Cillian exchange a look that pickles my scalp. "What?"
Cillian places the paper on the table. "We're in trouble with Donovan for allowing you to stay here without signing."
"Was this a ploy? Luring me from my awesome digs at the fae place?" I narrow my eyes. "I didn’t say I was staying."
"And you have nowhere to go," Cillian reminds me.
"Col would let me stay with him. Don’t think you can blackmail me because you think I’m weak. The death mark hasn’t affected me physically or mentally yet."
All three guys share a laugh. "Weakness is never something we’d accuse you of." Morgan smiles and I feel a strange pride from his understanding.
I grab the paper from the table and scan the contract. Seven boxes is a lot of money to earn. Plus, there’s the weird camaraderie growing between us. "I'm not selling my soul here, am I?
"No. We just need confidentiality. Exclusivity."
"We watch each other’s backs, Syv," puts in Dex. "I signed even when I had doubts."
Morgan nods. "We have complementary skills. That's why we want you on our team."
Team. The last time I played for a team, I was goal attack in the netball squad at school. My involvement was short-lived, thanks to an unfortunate accident between a ball I threw and the captain's face. She landed in hospital with an unwanted nose job.
So, I don’t do ‘team’. All attempts end in injuries for somebody.
I can’t. I don’t know—or trust—these people enough to sign a piece of paper. I thrust the contract back at him. "If you help cure my mark, I'll sign and help you find your boxes." Then I turn to Morgan. "Portal?"
He smiles. "This time, yes."
17
The mausoleum is located in a fenced-off area of a graveyard a short walk from the entrance. I’m impatient and the moment dusk falls, I was out of the car and at the gates. I rarely visit places like this because these are human domains. Most supernaturals have a longer life span or—such as vamps—don't die at all. Shifters age and die, but they have their own rituals to dispose of bodies. Piles of dusty dead demons don't need burying. Fae? They bury themselves beneath the court with family crests and inscriptions to mark their passing. There's no way fae would partake in human ceremonies.
The guys walk either side of me as we approach, and Dex hangs back a little as we tread along the narrow path between gravestones. I pause and look down at a shiny, modern black stone with etched gold lettering. A floral wreath adorns the grave, stirring a memory of the one funeral I attended. My human grandmother is buried in a cemetery close to my childhood home, but I never visited her grave since the day of her funeral.
I didn't know her well, but she rarely visited her only granddaughter. Once I discovered my origins, I wondered if my grandmother knew something about me. Someone had to. Demon spawn don't randomly appear for adoption. Do they?
The further we head into the cemetery, the older and more overgrown the stones become, and I can no longer make out the names and dates.
"Syv. Come on," hisses Cillian as I continue to think about my past. "Others will know we're looking for the bones."
I glance around. "Is anybody else here?"
"No."
"We should've asked the Horsemen to help," I say as I tramp onwards.
Morgan snorts. "No. This isn’t important to them."
Cillian pulls his collar closer around his face. "No. This is Dweller business. If they interfere, things could get confused. They don’t like cooperating and don’t understand enough."
I trip over a loose tombstone and he catches my arm before I fall. "We already asked for help."
"Because you insisted." Morgan looks ahead. "They can help with you, but I don’t want them touching my... The box."
I chew on my lip and flick a look to Cillian. He gives a nod. This is about his brother. If he’s caught in something that could threaten the world, I know what the Horsemen’s reaction will be: destroy it.
"But if we’re really stuck?" I suggest.
Morgan strides away.
The mausoleum is partially hidden beneath tall willow trees. The building resembles a tiny church without windows. A cross protrudes from the steepled roof and I scoff at the angel statues. The carved stone figures flank the sealed door—small and cherubic with serene expressions. Nothing like the angels I’ve met. Creatures I don’t want to meet again.
That answers my question over who would bury Nephilim.
I accidentally came across an angel weapon a few months ago, and when I touched the handle the thing scorched me with a magic I couldn't detect.
Overgrown grass spreads from the rough path to this part of the cemetery. The green stops a foot away from the stone doorway. I crouch down to touch and the edges are crisp and brown, as if something prevents anything growing here.
Cillian runs his fingers along the door and pushes them into the gap between the stone and the doorway. He steps back and scratches an eyebrow. "How do we get in?"
I cross my arms. "If this is protected by angel magic, I'm not touching."
Morgan gestures at Dex. "You can move this stone, surely."
Dex blows ai
r into his cheeks and stares at the door. Is he nervous of the magic the way I am?
"Yeah. Sure." He strides forward and digs his fingers into the space between the door and wall. Muscles strain in his shoulders as he pulls. The door scrapes, stone on stone, the sound setting my teeth on edge. Inch by inch, a doorway appears.
A set of stone steps leading into darkness appears. Dex steps back, rubbing his fingertips, and Cillian steps forward. Cillian silently gestures for the torch in my hand, and I pass it over. The beam shines through dust disturbed by the door.
I can't detect anything emanating from the space, so I head to the stairs. I pull a dagger from inside my jacket.
Morgan steps in front of me. "I'll go first. If there's someone waiting down there, I can throw a barrier up."
"I don't think there is," I reply.
Morgan places a hand on my arm and says in a soft voice. "There might be something angel—or someone. I don't want anything else hurting you." His eyes implore me to listen, and his genuine concern stuns me enough to nod my head in agreement.
"Maybe I should wait outside." Dex drops a rucksack he's carrying onto the floor and I suddenly click why he has the bag with him.
"Are you going to turn into Spot?" I ask. Cillian chokes out a laugh as Dex scowls at me. "I'm not insulting you, it's just the dog isn't Dex to me. I like to keep the two separate in my mind, y'know?"
"I'm still Dex," he mutters. "And I'm a good early warning system if demons come close."
"Don't tease, Syv," says Morgan. "He's helping."
"I'm not teasing." I nod at Dex. "Thank you."
He makes gruff acknowledgement and slinks away behind the mausoleum. I creep down the steps with the other guys, and we enter the dank room. I wrinkle my nose at the mossy, earthy smell as Cillian shines the torch in a circle. We stand close together in the space, almost touching shoulders. The low ceiling adds to the claustrophobic atmosphere.
"Where's the sarcophagus?" I walk to the opposite corner and look from floor to ceiling. "Who told you the bones were here? There's nothing but an empty room."
"Ewan. He sent me a link to the place he found mentioned on the old board messages. This is the right place."
"Fuck!"
I throw my hands in the air. "A false trail."
"Calm down, we haven't looked everywhere yet." Morgan stamps on the floor, making his way from slate tile to tile. "There could be an entrance to another chamber. Maybe underneath."
"Good point." Cillian shines the torch from the wall down to the floor. He joins Morgan in stomping on each one.
Nothing happens.
Cillian places a palm on the wall, feeling his way along. Morgan copies, searching in the opposite direction.
I turn to explore the cold wall behind.
Something jolts my arm and I'm flung backwards, landing on my arse. The pain shoots into my limbs, and I cry out as nausea instantly follows.
Angel magic.
"Syv?" Cillian immediately stops and crouches down. He helps me to my feet and I swallow down the bile rising.
"Look." We don't need Cillian's torch to see what's on the wall. Where I touched, a rune glows, faintly violet. As we stare, more shapes appear. They spread across the walls, in a row appearing one after the other until they create a line circling the room. We stare in silence.
"Do you know what these are?" Cillian asks me.
"Me? No."
"That one looks like your ketchup rune. Cillian. Check your phone."
I bark out a laugh at Morgan's words and the sound echoes. I clamp my hand over my mouth then whisper, "Sorry. Just... ‘ketchup rune’."
"It matches." Cillian pulls at his bottom lip as he stares at the image onscreen. He waves the phone at the walls. "Morgan, you're the wizard. How do these work?"
He shakes his head. "No clue. I've never seen these shapes before."
Oh great. But there's one person I trust who owns books filled with magic and has deciphered runes before. But if I need to go back to the Collector and ask if he recognises these, that's more time wasted. With a loud huff, I drag out my phone to take pictures.
"Oh, wait." Cillian traces one with his finger then steps to face the centre rune. Nobody speaks as he examines each one again.
A shuffling sound outside alerts me and I look back to the steps. Dex? I'd call his name, but don't want to draw attention.
"There's a pattern." Cillian points from one to the other. "Some of these lines and circles are contained in the shape of the larger one. Maybe we need to touch the matching ones?"
"Ah." Morgan straightens. "Yeah. That's not an uncommon way to break a seal. Problem is, if you pick the wrong shapes, or in the wrong order, you might trigger a spell or a trap."
"Then we choose the right ones," I say.
"From ten runes?" Morgan blinks at me.
"Good odds." I chew my lips as I compare the large central rune with the ones on the right. "This one. The intersecting lines match."
"Touch it," says Morgan.
"No. Didn't you see what happened when I touched the wall before?"
"She's right." Cillian steps forward and places a palm on the rune. The pale glow intensifies and the matching shape in the central symbol illuminates too.
Throwing Morgan a smug smile, I pace along the wall to study others. "Then this one. If you look, the triangle shape is in the bigger rune too."
Cillian places a hand on the triangular rune, and I wait for the same reaction. Instead, the ground beneath our feet trembles. The stones grind and slide from beneath my feet. I quickly side step the open space below and grab Morgan's arm.
Morgan peers into the black hole that appeared below us. "Can you see what's down there? Cillian?"
18
He crouches down and shines the torch. "A black hole. No steps. And a bloody long way down."
We stand in silence a moment. Not an entrance, but perhaps a permanent death-like exit?
"Syv is right," says Cillian. "The two we touched match. Others do too." He gestures at a rune close to Morgan's head. "Maybe they need touching in a specific order."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I mutter. "How many wrong guesses do we get before the whole floor disappears?"
Silence returns, and Morgan studies the shapes. I shudder as the atmosphere stifles—not from the silence but from magic pervading the room. "I'll tell Dex what's happening. Check whether he's seen anything outside."
Cillian nods and I run back up the steep steps. I leave the torch with the guys—they need light more than me, and if anybody has followed us, a flashing torch could reveal we're here.
In the silent graveyard, a movement catches my eye. Dex steps from the side of the mausoleum and pads toward me. He cocks his head. As I explain what's happening, I look back into his orange eyes. The colour matches the shining orange rim around the Dex's human irises. This is weird. I'm talking to a dog who's really a man I am attracted to. No. I do not sleep with shifters. A Syv rule.
Dex gives a low growl, which I take as him understanding my words. He backs into the shadows. I tip my head, but all I can hear is the rustling leaves around and distant traffic. With one last look around, I head back inside.
Three runes now glow on the wall, but the room buzzes with an energy that sounds like swarming bees. A pain stabs behind my eyes like needles and spreads through my skull. "Can you hear that?" I ask.
"What?" Morgan tenses and looks back to the stairs. "Outside?"
"No. In here." Cillian touches another rune and the buzzing pitch grows, intensifying the pressure in my head. "Fuck, guys!"
I cover my ears with my arms and close my eyes. Angel magic. This has to be. Maybe I should join Dex? No, this whole situation is about helping me—I need to assist. But I can't focus for the noise. I panic as Morgan places his palm on a new rune and the floor shifts again. Cillian says something, but I can't hear the words. The room sways—in reality or in my head? I place both hands on the wall and swallow down the nausea.
T
hrough my blurry vision, I can see more shapes in the central rune now glow. Five shapes shine on the wall, matching. One shape remains. Morgan touches it.
As he does, air rushes forwards; the stone that the large rune is painted on slides to the side with a deafening sound. I'm pulled forward, towards the opening, but land on my knees. My bones jar and the impact bloody hurts my knee caps. "Fuck!"
This is insane. I'm useless. My ears continue to ring and I look up to Cillian, who hesitates in the open doorway.
Steadying myself on my hands and knees, I tip my head to the guys. "Is the skeleton in there?"
Both stare at me and the horrified look on their face unnerves me. Morgan pulls me to my feet. My legs fall from under me as the movement shoots more pain through my legs.
As he half-drags me to the stairs, I protest, "I need to be in the room. To help."
Morgan wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. I grip his shoulders but my legs give way again. The buzzing reaches a pitch that winds around my thoughts and squeezes them into oblivion. I cry out but the words won't come. Morgan says something to me but I can't hear him or see him through the black spots dancing in front of my eyes.
The room lurches again, but this time because Morgan picks me up. Normal Syv would complain and pull herself to the floor, but this one can't stand. I shift my hands to grip his neck and my head lolls back as he carries me from the room.
Morgan gently lowers me on the hard ground and places a hand on my forehead. "Are you okay?"
I stare back as my vision re-focuses. He leans forward and his mouth moves closer to my face. I catch his scent, something new to me.
My pulse quickens, but his mouth moves to the side of my head. Dumbass. Did you seriously think he’d try to kiss you?
His breath tickles my ear and he places a hand on my chest, above my heart. My skin tingles despite the clothes between us. "Your heart beat is slow."
"I'm fine." I shakily prop myself on my elbows. "My head hurts though."
Morgan sits back on his haunches and his mouth parts. "Your eyes."
My hands go to them. "What? Are they bleeding?"
"No. They're black. Pure black. Man, you look weird."
