Only shouts of abuse followed her, and she was able to slip past the cop car and behind the barricade again. Within a minute, she was standing next to Cal. Tension rolled off him, Marius, and Satara in waves, and Edie inserted herself into the small circle they had formed near the front of the smaller crowd—counterprotesters, she realized now.
"Those are Blood Eagles."
"Yeah," Cal said, "we can see that now. How about not runnin' off and separatin' us? Some bad bullshit always happens when you do."
Edie cut him a look. "Yes, because I'm always the one who runs off."
"So what do we do?" Satara asked through clenched teeth. "Just stand here and watch them?"
"We could try to get somewhere we can get a better vantage point, so we're not in the thick of it." Edie looked around, but the street was completely blocked off, and she wasn't about drag Satara and Marius through that crowd. At least in her case, the Blood Eagles had assumed she was one of them. She glanced at the markings on her wrist again and felt heat rising up her neck. "If we could—"
Cal raised a hand, shushing her wordlessly, his gaze focused straight ahead. When she followed it, she realized that a woman had ascended the platform and was readying to speak. She was too far away for Edie to see in great detail, but she was young, thin, blond, wearing high heels and a raincoat with the hood pulled up.
The microphone on the podium squealed, and the woman began to speak over the rain, thanking the crown around the platform for coming. As she launched into the rest of her speech, however, the counterprotest around them erupted in a chant: "Say it loud, say it clear, Nazis are not welcome here! Say it loud, say it clear, Nazis are not welcome here!"
Edie had to strain to hear the woman's words but was able to pick up a few, interspersed with the sounds of her crowd cheering and clapping: "Collective interest ... your heritage ... victory ... European warriors ... sense of honor..."
Beside her, Satara's noise of disgust was audible despite the cacophony. She looked at the others and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Let's get out of here."
Marius and Edie nodded in unison, and they began pushing their way through the counterprotesters, back toward where they'd come. They didn't stop until they stood at the mouth of an alleyway, far enough that the rally and chanting were only a dull roar.
They stood in a circle, all arms crossed. Edie looked at the snow to avoid looking at her friends, mind swimming with indignation and shame. When she finally raised her head to search Marius and Satara's faces, the anger and hurt there were unmistakable. Satara shifted from foot to foot, and Marius stood still as a stone, staring in the direction of the rally.
Edie couldn't help her protective impulse. With nowhere to vent her frustration, she turned to Cal. "You should have told us what was going on before asking us to follow you."
"We should have done something," Marius murmured. "We should have said something."
"And paint targets on our backs?" Satara returned, turning more fully toward him.
"I— Look, I'm sorry!" Cal grimaced and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I thought it might be the Gloaming. Y'know, the people we're after, here?"
"Yes, Cal, I get it. I just— I don't—" Satara took a breath and wiped the air with both hands. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Marius took a small step toward Cal. "So, was it? The Gloaming?"
"Well..." He took his hands from his pockets, placing them on his hips with a sigh. "She's older than when I last saw her, but no doubt the bitch giving the speech was Daschla."
"Astrid's old shieldmaiden." Satara’s eyes shone with hope as well as anger. "That means—"
Something seemed to catch her eye, and she cut herself off, looking back toward where they had come. When Edie turned, she noticed that a group of people were approaching them, dressed like those she'd been surrounded by at the rally and carrying baseball bats. In a matter of seconds, her heart was thundering against her rib cage, and she could feel the whisper of magic skimming her arms. She'd rot them right there in the middle of the street if she had to.
"Five of them," Marius said, his voice ice. "Armed. Should we engage?"
"We can't," Satara replied, looking at him like he'd just grown an extra head. "The police are right there."
Cal took a step forward and spat, reaching for his gun. "We can take five humans. Easy."
"You're not listening to me." The shieldmaiden grabbed his arm, drawing his attention to her face. "Absolutely not."
They were about twenty feet away, now, and Edie was starting to realize ... something was different about these people. Their formation—four men circling one taller woman—struck her as familiar, but it wasn't until one of them summoned fire in his hands that she understood what they truly were.
Not Blood Eagles. Watchers.
Satara took a step back. "We need to go."
Beside her, Cal nodded and readied himself. "Run. I'll see if I can't put a dent in their little plan."
The group took off, but Edie lagged behind to watch Cal over her shoulder. One of the Watchers was charging up a fireball that would no doubt overtake the revenant and surge down the alley after the others. With inhuman strength, Cal grabbed a full Dumpster to his left and dragged it until it was mostly blocking their retreat, then took off running after her.
As they ran, the rain began to come down harder. The already snow-covered pavement became even slicker, and Edie nearly lost her footing a few times as she tried to cut through the impossible crowds on the city streets. Not only were the civilians getting in the way, they were in danger and they didn't even know it.
Satara led them from up ahead, and it seemed she'd had the same thought; she quickly switched direction, driving their retreat toward a nearby stretch of green—Central Park, Edie assumed. There was a chorus of honking as they cut across five lanes of traffic and pushed into the park.
Edie glanced back. Behind her, Cal was bringing up the rear but gaining on her. On the other side of the street, the Watchers lingered for a moment before following after them, cars be damned. She watched in horror as the tallest one jumped on top of a taxi and hopped the cars' hoods like stepping stones.
Adrenaline surged through Edie’s veins. She turned back around to focus on picking up speed. Their group wove between trees, heading for the more densely wooded areas of the park, but no matter what they did to try and shake them, the Watchers’ dogged persistence won out.
It was starting to look like they wouldn't have any choice but to fight them. Either that or draw attention to themselves by running through all of Manhattan—and that was sure to attract more police attention.
"Ahead! The arch!" Satara called back to them, her voice barely loud enough to be comprehensible.
Edie raised her head and squinted through the rain. Sure enough, up ahead of them was a stone arch, its opening barely big enough for two people to pass through side by side. Massive stones flanked it on either side, creating a blind spot just within the entrance.
She gasped, suddenly understanding Satara's plan. Ambush.
Pumping her legs harder, she was able to catch up with Satara and Marius quickly, Cal close behind.
And then she slipped.
A patch of black ice that she had been certain was a puddle brought her to the ground in an instant. The force of it knocked the air out of her lungs so hard she couldn’t even scream.
Propelled by momentum, Cal sailed right past her. He and the others were already through the arch by the time they realized what had happened.
Go! Go! she thought, wishing they would just leave her behind and go through with the plan. But Satara and Marius stopped, lingering as Cal doubled back sharply. He rushed toward her with an arm out for her to grab.
Hiss. A biting frost kissed Edie’s face as something whizzed over her head and thudded into Cal's chest with a sound like breaking glass. She watched in terror as an icy sheen spread over him, his movements becoming jerky and labored. When she whipped her head
around to see what had happened, she spotted the Watchers barely twenty feet away from her.
And then, another unexpected noise. Scarcely audible over the rain and her pounding heart, the sound of fabric rustling in the wind reached her ears.
Before she could even wonder where it was coming from, a figure touched down in front of her, having apparently been crouched atop the stone arch.
Edie couldn't make out much about this person in the thin light and rain, but she thought they were a man, of average height and build. Staring at the back of his head, she could see that his hair was short and snow white. He wore shiny dress shoes and what looked like a black robe.
The stranger turned his head as though to glance over his shoulder at her. As he did, a strange pale light flashed. The next thing she knew, she was looking not at the face of a man but at a sun-bleached, empty-eyed skull.
The Watchers were already upon him, and he raised his hands—completely skeletonized, with no flesh or tendons between the bones. He grabbed two Watchers by the napes and knocked their heads together in one swift motion, then reached without hesitation for the larger woman. Using her almost as a shield against the remaining combatants, he clutched her throat, digging his fingers into her skin. The flesh withered under his hand, and rot was climbing up her face by the time he threw her aside.
Two more men—a kick, a knee to the groin—and then he turned on the original two, shoving a blade that Edie hadn't seen a second ago into their abdomens one at a time.
Behind her, she could hear the familiar hum of Marius summoning his solar weapons, but the skeleton remained focused. He slashed a throat and summoned another blast of death magic, and the Watchers were lying at his feet, barely alive.
Just when Edie thought the battle was over, the skeleton adjusted his stance. He stood straighter and let his arms fall to his sides, palms turned upwards. As he slowly began to raise them, a strange, almost windy sound filled the area. Indeed, shortly after, a strange wind picked up, whisking Edie's hair all around her head and the stranger's robe around his ankles.
The bodies at his feet trembled, like they were writhing at ten times the speed of their normal motion. Edie watched as a pale periwinkle film, like a mask, appeared over their faces. The wind tugged the film. With the Watchers' features mirrored perfectly by it, it almost looked like the skeleton was peeling their skin off. As the wind blew harder, the purplish image began separating from the rest of their bodies, too, until a translucent copy of them shivered just slightly above their forms.
Suddenly, Edie realized where she'd seen such a thing before. The translucent, almost viscous forms; the agonized faces of once-living men. Like in the unquiet river in her dream, she was seeing a soul. A spirit.
And the skeleton seemed to be … sucking them into himself.
The spirits swirled, distant screams joining the harsh sound of wind as they wheeled around him. He stretched his arms out as if to welcome them, and one by one, they collided with and sank into his chest, causing a bright white spark of energy each time.
For a moment, the robed form glowed, just as the spirits had. He bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, like he’d just run a marathon, and Edie could have sworn she heard him panting. The wind died down, the normal rainy weather returning. With it went his odd glow—as well as his skeletal appearance.
Behind her, Cal had unfrozen completely, coming to stand next to her. The others lingered close by, watching warily. Was this strange man a savior, or was he an even bigger threat than the Watchers?
The stranger stood up straight again, took a deep breath, and finally turned.
He was an older man, light-complected and probably in his late sixties or early seventies. His square jaw, long, straight nose, and heavy brow gave him the look of a bird of prey, blue eyes intense behind a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. Now that he was turned toward them, Edie could see that it wasn’t a robe he was wearing but an old-fashioned Catholic priest’s outfit, white collar and all.
Thin mouth drawn, the stranger looked at each of them in turn, studying them. And then, he broke into a dazzling grin.
“I was wondering when you’d show up. Let’s find somewhere we can talk.”
Chapter Seven
The priest's apartment was relatively austere, with white walls and neutral carpeting, but was by no means shabby. Though, if Edie was honest, the giant stone coffee table—about six feet long, nearly black, and clearly very heavy—was a bit out of place, the only statement piece in a room decorated with nondescript furniture.
She and the others sat awkwardly in the living room, with Marius in an armchair and the rest of them squeezed onto the couch. In the adjacent kitchen, the priest whistled as he banged around—presumably getting them all tea, since he'd mentioned he wanted some.
Beside her, she could feel how tense Satara was, and she wasn't in a much more relaxed state herself. The priest's sudden appearance had been fortunate in that they hadn't had to battle the Watchers, but none of them had any idea what to expect from him. Only his promise that he was on their side had brought them to his home.
Before too long, a kettle's screech cut the silence, causing Edie to jump. A handful of seconds later, the priest exited the kitchen carrying only one mug.
Okay, apparently only tea for him, Edie thought, frowning. She could have used some, considering she'd fallen into an ice-cold puddle, but whatever.
The priest sat in a vacant armchair and propped his feet up on the stone coffee table nonchalantly, stirring his tea all the while. With a sigh, he spoke first: "It took you people long enough to get here. I could've used you earlier, to be honest." When there was no response, he added, "Before the blizzard, ideally. What the hell was the holdup?"
Aside from a priest cursing, this situation seemed … odd, to say the least. He'd been waiting for them? How had he known they were on their way, let alone that they exited at all?
Edie tilted her head as she responded, "We, uh ... we didn't realize you were expecting us."
"I wasn't expecting you"—he gestured with his free hand, observing her over the rim of his glasses—"that's for damn sure. But I was expecting somebody. It's been awhile since we got some new blood down here."
New blood? Edie glanced at Satara. Could this be related to the "Reach problem" Indriði’s contact had spoken of? Astrid had led them to believe that she was all there was left of the Reach, but clearly, that wasn't true. This man must be one of them. And given the powers he had...
"You're him," she said quietly, shifting to sit on the edge of her seat. "The other hellerune."
The priest leaned back to laugh. "Ha! No."
"Oh.”
"Why, are you looking for one?" He pursed his lips and examined her again. After a loud slurp of tea, he mumbled, "Ah, okay, I get it. You're a Holloway."
"I'm Edie," she responded pointedly. "This is Satara, Cal, and Marius."
"All right..."
Satara nodded in greeting. "With all due respect, if you're not a hellerune, what are you? That was ... a very impressive display of magic in the park."
The priest sighed deeply, then took another sip of tea before setting it on the stone slab. "Well, first of all, my name is Basile. Basile Bolet. I'm a priest. Although, uh, not a priest of who you'd expect." He leaned back again and waved a hand. “Go ahead, play your Twenty Questions. I know it’s coming.”
Marius was regarding him warily, and Satara didn't seem overjoyed to be in his presence either. Edie had to keep reminding herself that her Norse companions weren't exactly at ease with Christians. She wasn’t remotely religious herself, but for someone who'd grown up unattuned—and in Boston, no less—seeing priests walking around wasn't anything strange.
"Who are you a priest of, then?" Marius asked.
"Odin, of course."
Satara's brow furrowed. "If you're a priest of Odin, why moonlight as a Catholic?"
"It's the best way for me to keep my ear to the ground," he replied with a shrug.
"I can go almost anywhere in the city and make up some excuse, which some rando would never be able to do. And it gives me the quickest access to people I might be able to help along the way, attuned and unattuned both."
Cal crossed his arms. "Well, ain't you just a regular Mother Teresa. That's nice, but what about the soul flaying, pal?"
"Hmm … one dead guy to another"—Basile cut Cal a withering stare—"you might want to watch your attitude."
"Dead?" the revenant returned, in that dumbfounded tone he reserved for when he was truly confused.
"I guess, unless— Can you be dead if you were never alive?" the priest asked, drumming his fingers on his mouth. “Questions, questions…”
Edie squinted. "You can't be a revenant."
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. I'm not a revenant, young lady.” He spread his hands. “I'm a draugborn."
Edie looked at the others for guidance but was surprised to find that they all looked just as confused as she was. Even Satara—whom Cal and Marius had also turned to—seemed at a loss. The shieldmaiden shifted uncomfortably where she sat before saying, "I ... I don't know what that is."
"Not surprised." Basile picked his mug up again. "We aren't exactly widespread, thank the High One, or this world would be deeper in crap than it already is. Draugborn are children who die in the womb when they are cursed to be sál-skálpar."
“Soul scabbards?” Marius whispered.
"What is a … that?"
Satara could answer this one: "A sál-skálpr, or skálpr for short, is the vessel in which a lich keeps their soul. But..." She frowned, staring at Basile. "I had no idea people could be skálpar."
"Not all the time," he replied. "Not already-living ones. But the unborn are a gray area, and so..." Basile gestured to himself. "A ritual was performed, and I was emptied, prepared to become a vessel! How nice for me. Eventually, I was born, and the lich's soul was inserted."
"But if you ... died before you were even born," Edie began slowly, not wanting to offend him, "how are you ... you know, older?"
Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3) Page 7
