14. Matilda
14
MATILDA
The night stretches endlessly, dark and heavy with secrets. I sit in the window seat of my bedroom, watching shadows dance across the grounds of MistHallow. I can’t sleep. Won’t sleep. I am trying to get up the energy and gumption to go back to the ritual chamber and close that gateway. I have to go soon, or Annabelle is going to be pissed, and I really don’t want to piss off the Devil. My power hums beneath my skin, more restless than usual since we broke the curse. It wants something, but I don’t know what.
A soft knock at my door breaks through my brooding. “Come in,” I call, already knowing it’s Draven.
He enters quietly, closing the door behind him. There’s something in his expression that makes my stomach clench. “What’s wrong?”
“I talked to Anu.”
My whole body goes cold. “Why?”
“Because we needed answers.” He moves closer but doesn’t touch me. He’s a smart man. “About your father.”
“I don’t want to know.” The words come out sharp, brittle.
“You need to know.”
“Why?” I turn back to the window. “Why does it matter who helped that bitch create her weapon?”
“Because it matters to you.” His voice is gentle, probably the most I’ve ever heard, and the sharp bite of tears stings my eyes.
The truth in his words hurts. “Fine. Tell me.”
“Xanthos.”
One word. Just one name, and my world shifts again, but not as much as I expected. “Not surprised. I felt it. The first time. I thought he was a distant ancestor. How wrong was I?” The bitterness in my tone is hard to stop.
Draven moves even closer, finally close enough to touch. “If it helps, she did to him what he did to his creations.”
Laughter bubbles up, harsh and hollow. “Helps? Strange choice of word, Dray. But of course she did. Why am I not surprised? Birds of a feather and all that shit.”
He gives me a confused stare but shakes it off when I don’t bother to explain. “There’s more. She didn’t do it for the reasons we thought. This wasn’t about universal domination. It was about Hell, about overthrowing my mother.”
My power flares, responding to my anger. The shadows in the room shrink back from the aggressive Praxian magick. “She wanted to use me to take over Hell?”
“Unfortunately,” he says dryly. “She thought Hell should have been hers. Something about Lucifer’s magick falling at her feet was an omen. She is…”
“Deluded?”
“Pretty much.”
I clench my jaw and stare out of the window. “I hope your mum doesn’t find out about this.”
“Tilly.” Draven’s hand grips mine. “Doesn’t matter even if she did. That’s not you. You aren’t the generator Anu wanted you to be. You rewrote those rules. You changed what she made you into.”
“Did I?” I look down at our joined hands. “Or am I exactly what she wanted? This power keeps growing. Changing.”
“That’s because you’re finally free to be who you really are.” His grip tightens. “Not what she tried to make you.”
I want to believe him. But there’s still so much uncertainty, so much I don’t understand about what I’m becoming. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve seen what you can do. How you can rewrite the fabric of magick. That’s creator magick.”
The words resonate through me, touching something deep and true. “Magick is unravelling all over. I need to close that gateway.”
“We’ll all go.”
“How is Vex? ”
“He’s fine. Don’t worry about him. Only concentrate on you.”
I lean into him, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m tired.”
“I know.” His arms wrap around me. “But you’re a force of nature.”
“I need to do this now,” I say, pulling away from him. “Will you get the others?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
I watch Draven leave, his shoulders tense. He knows something’s off—he always does. The door clicks shut behind him, and I wait a couple of seconds before I dive off the window seat. My power ripples under my skin, practically screaming at me to move.
The truth about Xanthos, about Anu’s plans for Hell, changes things. Or maybe it just confirms what I’ve suspected… that I can’t keep relying on others to figure out what I am, what I can do.
I grab my boots and jacket, guilt already churning in my stomach. The guys are going to be pissed. But I need to do this alone, need to understand my power without their influence, their energy mixing with mine.
I open the window silently and stare down at the ground two floors down. Taking a deep breath, I climb out and reach for the drainpipe, just as I did all those weeks ago at home, but then something stops me. Instead, I turn to face outward and close my eyes. Taking the leap of faith, I step out into fresh air and stifle my scream as I drop to the ground, but land like a cat, with Chaos leaping down after me .
“Hey, you,” I murmur. “Thought you were asleep?”
He climbs up me and settles on my shoulder. I feel comforted, and a bit relieved that I’m not totally alone.
The grounds of MistHallow are bathed in mist, as usual, this one slightly thicker than most. I stick to the shadows cast by the ancient oaks that line the path. My boots crunch on the frost as I move quickly. The library’s gothic architecture looms ahead, and I pick up my pace.
I push the doors open to find it empty as I scurry along to the back of the ground floor. I find the stone circle etched into the floor and step inside. Crouching down, I press the button and start my cursed descent.
Only this time, it’s slow—a bit too slow—as I fall into a dense fog that drenches my hair and clothes.
Landing suddenly, but softly and on my feet for once, I test my magick by attempting a give-me-light spell. It flares to life but is definitely dulled. I can feel the magick straining inside me to make it bigger, brighter. The damage we caused has been fully repaired, much like the MistHallow above the ground.
“Okay, which way?” My magick flares, lighting the way, but I can’t see for shit with this fog. “Chaos? Any ideas?”
He chitters and leaps off my shoulder, diving into the fog.
“Hey, wait!” I call after him and rush forward, hoping I still see him.
That would be a no, but I can hear him. So, I focus on that and follow the noise .
We head deeper. The tunnels fight us at every step, shifting and changing. Twice, we have to backtrack when passages suddenly end in a solid wall.
“Stop being difficult,” I tell the tunnel system. “I’m trying to help.”
A grinding noise answers me as the passage ahead restructures itself.
It gets louder, and the fog thickens until I can barely see my feet. Chaos’s chittering echoes off the walls, bouncing back distorted and strange. My light spell flickers, struggling against the dampener trying to smother it.
A high-pitched warning sound from Chaos makes me freeze. The floor ahead ripples like water, and through the fog, I catch glimpses of stairs forming and unforming, the tunnel trying to reshape itself.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” I take a tentative step forward. The stone solidifies under my boot, but just barely. “Chaos, you still there?”
His response comes from somewhere above me. Squinting through the fog, I spot him perched on what looks like a half-formed archway. His amber eyes glow as he watches me.
“Show off,” I mutter, but I follow his lead, testing each step before putting my full weight down. The tunnel groans around us, with magick crackling through the stone like lightning through clouds.
We play this game for what feels like hours. Chaos leading, me following, the tunnel fighting us every step of the way. My power reacts the deeper we go, responding to something ahead. The gateway. It has to be.
Chaos suddenly yowls, the sound sharp with warning. The fog parts just enough for me to see him leap down as the ceiling collapses. I dive forward after him, rolling across stone that’s more liquid than solid now. My light spell sputters and dies.
“Enough!” Power bursts from me in a wave, Praxian magick colliding with whatever’s warping the tunnels. For a moment, everything freezes. The fog, the shifting stone, even the air.
Then the fuckery simply... gives up. The fog dissipates, the stone solidifies, and suddenly, I’m staring at the ritual chamber entrance. Chaos sits in the doorway, staring up at me, waiting for my next move.
The pit is still in the middle of the chamber where the altar once sat. The sulphurous stench of Hell wafts up, and the occasional shriek of something Demonic rattles my ears.
Chaos winds between my legs as I approach the pit, each step measured and careful. The gateway’s energy resonates stronger now, a nauseating rhythm that makes my whole body ache. Dark tendrils of power curl up from the depths, testing, reaching.
My magick rises to meet them without my conscious direction. The connection is instant and violent, like touching a live wire. Images flash through my mind: countless realities bleeding into each other, worlds colliding, magick unravelling at the seams.
“Shit.” I stumble back, catching myself on the chamber wall. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? You’re not just worming your way through the barriers to Hell anymore. You’re tearing holes in everything magickal. You want it all.”
The magick practically purrs at me.
“Well, I’m sorry, Praxy. I can’t let you do that.” I push away from the wall, moving closer again. I take a deep breath, centring myself. “Okay. Let’s try this again.”
My power flows more easily this time, meeting the gateway’s energy with purpose instead of reaction. The connection forms more smoothly, and I can feel the structure of it now. The fractures, the weak points, the places where different magicks clash and tear at each other.
It needs to be unmade. Just like I unmade Chris.
I gulp at the memory, but then I recall how badly he deserved it, and I grit my teeth.
Chaos howls a warning as I reach for the first thread of power. I ignore him and focus on the task. One by one, I locate the anchor points holding the gateway open. They’re like knots in a complex web, each one tied to different layers of reality. Through the haze of Hell’s scorching air, I see Draven and Luc’s Hellhound sister patrolling her side. As soon as she senses the shift, her three heads turn towards me. She lets out a low rumble, but it’s approving, not a warning.
Nodding to her, I then re-focus on the gateway. The first tether unravels under my touch, and the gateway shudders. The second follows more easily, and I start to find a rhythm. Unravel, redirect, rewrite.
The air grows heavy with ozone as I work, and distant thunder rolls through the tunnels. I’m dimly aware that I’m probably setting off every magickal alarm in MistHallow, but I can’t stop now. I’m too deep in it, too connected to the flow of power.
Just a few more threads to go.
The chamber trembles, dust and small stones raining down as I pull another thread loose. The gateway fights back now, its power lashing out wildly. A tendril of dark energy whips past my face, leaving a burning trail across my cheek.
My hands shake with strain, but I can’t lose focus. Two more anchors. Just two more.
“Almost there,” I whisper to Chaos, who’s growling continuously now. The sound echoes off the walls, mixing with the gateway’s otherworldly shriek.
The next anchor dissolves under my touch, and the gateway convulses. The pit edges start to crumble, reality buckling violently around it. One more. One final thread.
“Matilda. You are in so much fucking trouble.”
Vex’s voice cuts through my concentration, making me shiver with longing for a punishment of the sexual kind, but I can’t look away. Can’t stop. The final anchor is right there, twisting with dark energy.
“Stay back. I’ve almost got it.” My fingers close around the final thread.
Power explodes through me as the last anchor snaps. The gateway’s shriek rises to a deafening pitch. Before I can take my next breath, the pit collapses inward. The walls of the pit crack and buckle. Massive chunks of stone break free and crash down around us.
“Chaos!” I scream as the first boulder nearly crushes him. I grab him, clutching him to my chest as more debris rains down. My power flares instinctively, trying to create a shield, but I’m too drained from closing the gateway.
The walls give way completely as tons of rock and earth cascade into the pit. I curl around Chaos, trying to protect him as we’re buried alive. The weight of stone crushes down, pressing the air from my lungs. Darkness closes in, absolute and suffocating.