The Lightning's Kiss: Wylie Westerhouse Book 3

by Nathan Roden

  Holly raised her finger. Archer and Ned flinched.

  “Do you mean can I blow a hole in a stone wall with one finger?”

  Holly lowered her hand.

  “No.”

  Archer and Ned exhaled.

  “But Holly can do something that I cannot,” Tara said.

  “Tara,” Robert said. “Don’t. There is no need.”

  “Fine,” Tara said. She folded her arms.

  “What are you keeping from us, Robert?” Archer said. “Our lives and careers are on the line. Tomorrow morning we’ll be facing a room full of officers with red eyes and bad attitudes.”

  Robert closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He looked to his right, where Delbert Scoggins stood. Delbert stared up the hill, in his dirty, white, sequined Elvis outfit.

  “Go ahead. Show them, Holly.”

  Both men jumped when Holly reached and grabbed their hands.

  “The others are coming,” Tara said.

  Robert snapped his fingers in front of the faces of his dumbfounded friends.

  “Look,” Robert said. “Four more ghosts are on the way back from re-con inside the castle. One of them is a teen-aged boy. That boy’s brother is Holly’s boyfriend—in other words, he very much alive at the moment. He’s being held captive by Sebastian Wellmore. Wellmore is the last living member of the family that has lived in that castle for a thousand years. This same man kidnapped Holly’s parents and held them in the dungeon of that very castle for six months.”

  “What?” Archer said. “Wait—Holly’s parents—you’re talking about your brother?”

  “Yes,” Robert said. “My brother and his wife.”

  “No, no, no,” Ned shook his head. “We watched this whole thing on the telly, Robert. You were right there with us. We were playing cards when it came on the news! That couple rented a boat and it sank. They were stranded on a tiny Greek Island.”

  “That was what I believed until a few hours ago,” Robert said.

  “Why on earth would they lie about it?” Archer asked. “They made up that story—why? Why would they allow a kidnapper to go free?”

  “He’s far from being a mere kidnapper,” Tara said. “Wellmore has ties to…to power. To a power that you cannot begin to imagine.”

  “What kind of power?” Ned asked.

  Delbert stepped between the men and Tara.

  “Wellmore is friends with devils!” Delbert said. He pointed up the hill. “That place is full of devils!”

  Archer and Ned stared at Delbert.

  “Robert,” Archer said. “This is simply too much to—”

  “Oh, you don’t believe in devils, huh?” Delbert asked with his hands on his hips. “You’re standin’ here listenin’ to an Elvis impersonator who died in a boat explosion, but you don’t wanna believe in devils. You boys don’t even know what you believe do you?”

  “He’s talking about demons!” Tara said. “One particularly powerful demon, to be exact. His name is Reygar.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Archer asked. “Have you seen—?”

  “I have seen him, and I have talked to them both,” Tara said. “Reygar and Wellmore.”

  Archer and Ned stepped backward.

  “W-what is happening?” Archer said.

  A light began to glow around Tara. Her hair swirled though there was no wind. Her voice deepened.

  “The demon Reygar and the Heir of Alistair Wellmore plan an alliance. An alliance based on a bond of hell sworn to by Baron Wellmore himself—the man who once ruled these lands. This same man summoned Reygar from the depths, a thousand years ago. Their union requires that man and spirit drink the blood of one who sees into both worlds. The world of the living, and the world of the dead.”

  Tara’s hair fell limp against her head. Her knees buckled. Robert caught her before she went to the ground.

  “What madness is this?” Ned asked.

  Tara struggled to her feet. She pushed away from her father.

  “You do not know what madness is!” Tara said. “If that demon gains access to this world, you have no weapons that can stop him!”

  Duncan flew to a stop in front of Robert.

  “They’re in the dungeon,” Duncan said. “Wellmore and the demon. Wylie is alive. He’s still tied up. Wellmore is waving around some kind of ceremonial blade. We have to go, now!”

  “Which one is this?” Archer asked.

  “This is Duncan,” Robert said. “Duncan, this is Archer and Ned. They’re on our side.”

  “Who is Wylie?” Ned asked.

  “My brother,” Duncan said. “Did you hear me, Major? We have to go!”

  “What do they want with your brother?” Archer asked.

  “He has the sight, just like I do,” Holly said.

  “Are you all right, Tara?” Robert asked.

  Duncan pushed past Robert. He grabbed Tara by the arm. She wrenched away from him.

  “You’re Tara?” Duncan said. He sized her up. “I hope what we’ve heard is true.”

  Tara glared at Duncan. She bent down and picked up a stone. She stood and glared at Duncan as she ground the stone into dust.

  “I hope your skills extend beyond exhibitions,” Duncan said. “I’m going—now!” Duncan flew up the hill. The other ghosts were right behind him. Tara and Holly sprinted up the hill.

  “Tara! Holly!” Robert shouted. He turned and glared at his friends. He drew his pistol and ran up the hill.

  Archer and Ned swore.

  Archer held out his hand. Ned took it.

  “We’re way off script now, Mate,” Archer said. “Our careers may not survive the day.”

  Ned shrugged.

  “I’ve always wanted to have more time to spend in my workshop. The kids are grown. Maybe I could sell our place and get a little cottage in the country. I don’t think Greta would mind one bit.”

  They grabbed weapons from their car and followed the others up the hill.

  Forty

  Wylie Westerhouse

  Wellmore Village, Scotland

  I must have blacked out. When I came to, my first thought was that I was dead. I could see nothing but black. But then, I heard Sebastian Wellmore swear. My face pressed against his chest—and his black shirt. He pushed me backward and laid the dagger on the table next to the chalice. A minute later, I was chained to the wall.

  Wellmore picked up the dagger. I closed my eyes and prayed—a simple prayer; from a simple guy who was waaaay in over his head.

  Just another sparrow.

  I felt the sting on my palm—and a searing hot pain crossed my hand. As the pain fell away to numbness, a warm tickle took its place.

  I felt the blood drip from my fingers.

  The chalice was gone. I knew that Sebastian Wellmore held it beneath my hand.

  This will be the test! I don’t know if I thought that, or said it out loud.

  If my blood is the catalyst for this unholy union, then my body is a worthless host.

  If my blood serves no purpose, then my body becomes no more than a target for their rage.

  Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

  Damned if you do—damned if you don’t.

  Are you going to bite me? Why, do you taste good?

  How much blood have I lost?

  How much blood can you lose before…before…?

  Before you lose conscious…

  Blam!

  I jolted awake by the sound of the dungeon door slamming against the wall. Two, then three flashlights shone around the room. Beams of light landed on the startled and psychotic face of Sebastian Wellmore.

  For a second, I thought that I was watching a scene from one of my favorite old movies starring Christopher Lee as Dracula. Wellmore’s pale, gaunt face glowed in sharp contrast to the bright red liquid that ran down his chin.

  It was Blood.

  MY blood.

  I heard the chalice hit the floor. Wellmore reached into his waistband and drew a pistol. He fired three ti
mes and then dove away from me, into the darkness. In the bouncing lights of the flashlights, I saw men running toward me. I saw a muzzle flash at floor level from the direction that Wellmore had gone. I heard a man cry out. One of the flashlights hit the floor and did not move.

  “Ned!” someone said.

  “No!” Reygar’s roar rattled the chains on the walls. He flew across the room at me. I turned my head, but I could not bear to close my eyes. Reygar dove to the floor.

  He was not coming for me.

  He was coming for the chalice.

  Suddenly, it made sense.

  That was how this worked!

  Both Wellmore and Reygar had to drink my blood from that chalice!

  Not that this knowledge did me any good—I could only watch, helplessly.

  Reygar grabbed the chalice with his clawed hand. He raised it—and the chalice was kicked away. A pair of hands grabbed the beast.

  Small hands.

  A girl’s hands.

  Tara Jamison roared as she threw the demon across the room. He slammed against the far wall and slid to the floor. He was quick to his feet, his eyes blazing with bright orange flame. He took two steps toward me, and then he flew back against the wall. Reygar roared. Blue bolts of lightning blasted from Tara’s extended hands and pinned the beast against the stone.

  Tara transformed into something far beyond human. Blue electricity crackled all around her. Her hair stood straight out. Light projected from her eyes.

  “Close your eyes,” I heard Tara say.

  “Tara?” I said.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Are you talking to me?” I said.

  “Close your eyes! Now!”

  I did. I heard a loud crunch next to me. I peeked out of one eye. The chain that held me was torn from the wall.

  “I told you to close your eyes!” Tara growled. “Do you want to be blind and dead?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut; I felt the pressure release from around my arms and chest.

  I was free.

  And then, I wasn’t.

  Tara fell forward into me. I grabbed her arms to keep her from crashing to the floor.

  Tara loosed a scream of rage that was almost a match for Reygar’s. The shaft of a dart stuck out of her shoulder.

  “CRANE!”

  Tara waved her hand at the dart—missing it twice. She was already losing the ability to move.

  “Pull it out!” she pleaded. “Pull it out, or we all die.”

  I pulled out the dart—but it was too late. Tara was having a hard time breathing. She could not stand.

  I looked up and spotted the man with the rifle. A gunshot went off and the man dove behind an overturned table.

  Reygar got to his feet. His entourage of demons hovered around him—shouting encouragement.

  “Stay with me, Tara,” I said.

  I spotted Wellmore’s dagger and snatched it up. I grabbed Tara’s arm and made a few cuts around the area where the dart had entered. I only knew of one possible way to get that drug out of her system. I put my mouth to her shoulder—and sucked.

  And spit. And sucked. And spit.

  I thought it was working because my lips went numb. And then my tongue and my jaw. It would soon be my entire face.

  Tara pushed me away. She began to tremble, and a low growl rose in her throat. She held out her arm and her eyes began to blaze again. I stared at her shoulder. Her upper arm began to turn red. It started to glow, and smoke rose from it. A steady flow of blood and poison oozed from the wound and dripped to the floor.

  Tara grabbed onto me and pulled herself up.

  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The man with the rifle was aiming at Tara again. I reached for the dagger, but my hand was slick with blood. The dagger squirted away from me.

  Tara swatted at the air. Reygar’s demon minions swarmed around her head.

  “Look out, Tara!”

  I heard a scream. Something—or someone—dove at the rifleman from his side. The man that Tara had called “Crane” dropped the rifle and went down hard on the floor. His attacker jumped to her feet. It was Holly. She stumbled and grabbed her shoulder.

  I dove for the rifle, a second before Sebastian Wellmore did. I got there first.

  Reygar screamed. He dodged a bolt of electricity from Tara’s hand, only to be hit with a ball of flame from her other hand. He screamed at Wellmore.

  “Get the chalice, you fool!”

  I raised the rifle and aimed it at Wellmore’s chest. I pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened. The only thing I know about guns is what I had learned from TV and movies. This rifle had a bolt. I grabbed onto it and pulled it back. A dart ejected.

  Great. I had just unloaded the rifle. Wellmore lunged at me. I grabbed the rifle like a baseball bat and swung it at him. He ducked at just the right time. I missed him completely, which left me off-balance. Wellmore kicked the rifle from my hands. The cut on my hand opened up. He grabbed my wrist and pulled both of us to the floor.

  Another gunshot exploded. I felt the bullet go by my ear, between my head and Wellmore's. I had no idea who was being shot at.

  I kicked at Wellmore’s grip on me, but he was strong and motivated. I was feeling weaker by the minute. Wellmore was on his hands-and-knees—searching for the chalice.

  Reygar bellowed again and started across the floor toward Tara. Tara roared back, and flames struck the demon on his chest, he screamed and started to shrink. No, he wasn’t shrinking—it looked like he was—like he was melting. His writhing form passed down through the floor. As his horned head disappeared, his shrieks could still be heard from the depths below.

  “Hey, Wellmore! Is this what you’re lookin’ for?” Bruiser Brady asked. Bruise stood, twirling the stem of the chalice between his fingers.

  “Give that to me!” Wellmore growled.

  “I don’t think so, Dracula,” Bruiser said. “I don’t like your friends, and I don’t like you! And I sure ain’t gonna stand by and watch you two take over the world!”

  Wellmore roared and leaped to his feet. He dove at the chalice. Bruiser tossed it in the air. Dougie Day bobbled the chalice a couple of times before he caught it. Dougie tossed it back to Bruiser.

  Two gunshots rang out and bullets flew past Wellmore’s head. One of them passed through Bruiser’s stomach. He dropped the chalice. Wellmore dove for cover.

  “Daddy! Look out!” Tara screamed. Crane stood up and fired a pistol. I didn’t see Holly. A man screamed. Another flashlight hit the floor.

  “Daddy!”

  “I’m okay, Baby!”

  But Tara’s daddy was not okay. Maybe he was going to live, but the flashlight on the floor illuminated his upper leg where the bullet hit him. As far as I knew, three men had entered the dungeon. And at least two of them were down. I didn’t like our odds.

  Tara glared toward the table that Crane was hiding behind. Her eyes were flaming red. She opened her mouth and a violent wind blew against the table, forcing it backward. The table crashed into the far war, exploding into splinters. Crane rolled out of the way at the last second.

  I stared at this spectacle, which was a mistake. Sebastian Wellmore picked up the rifle from the floor and swung it at the back of Tara’s legs. Tara screamed and fell backward. Her head hit the stone floor. She was knocked out cold.

  Duncan dropped to his knees at Tara’s side. He patted her face and pleaded with her to wake up.

  We were sunk.

  I peeked up toward the ceiling, where Bruiser, Dougie, and Arabella huddled together. I didn’t know if they had the chalice, or were preparing a distraction.

  We had a distraction, all right.

  A bank of overhead lights lit up the room. The only sound in the room came from Tara’s father. Holly’s uncle. He moaned and his breathing was erratic. His leg was bleeding badly, and if he did not get medical attention soon, he was done for.

  A cackle of laughter started—just inside of the dungeon door. It was Cr
ane.

  “Oh, this is so very rich!” Crane exclaimed. “And it all makes so much sense now!” Demons!” Crane watched with delight as the dungeon’s cast of demonic characters flew before him.

  “Foul, evil spirits!” Crane spotted Duncan. “And even…even children! Mr. Wellmore, what a magnificent vision of hell itself! I certainly understand why you sought this sweet young thing!”

  Oh, God, no! I thought.

  Crane spoke as though he did not have an ounce of fear—and there was a reason for that. He had a shield.

  A human shield.

  Crane stood with his arm around Holly’s neck. He pressed the barrel of his pistol against the side of her head.

  “Let her go, you sick bastard!” Holly’s uncle said weakly.

  “I have every intention of doing so,” Crane said. “After the appropriate exchange is made.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but it gave me a glimmer of hope. A glimmer was all I had. We had one armed man left on our side, and I knew nothing about him. He was pinned down behind a storage locker—and between the pistols held by Crane and Wellmore.

  There was a noise near the ceiling above the back wall. I heard Wellmore curse. He pointed his gun toward the row of boarded-up egress windows. He fired a shot that passed through the ghosts and shattered one of the windows.

  The chalice fell and bounced down a stone stairwell. Wellmore leaped toward it. The man behind the storage locker fired at Wellmore. Another shot rang out. Crane fired at the man behind the locker. I couldn’t tell if he was hit or not. I didn’t hear him make a sound. I couldn’t hear much of anything. The sounds of the gunshots bouncing off of the stone walls was so deafening that my ears were ringing.