Chapter 24 Atticus
Atticus
Truly there is no such thing as finality.
—Bram Stoker, Dracula
It’s not just a prison cell. It’s a tomb. I should have known from the moment we set foot in this place. I sensed it in the air, a sick and twisted feeling. It’s in the walls and in the stones. This place is evil.
The malum…it survived, trapped in this prison for a century. When the tower fell, it was freed. For all I know, it could be close. My heart pounds, my skin goes cold, my vision narrowing to a pinpoint focus. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.
I take a step back, and then another. Dorian and Raven stand motionless, as if transfixed.
“We have to get out of here,” I say, fear burning hot in my veins. I grab Raven and Dorian, my hold viselike on their hands. “Come on. Please. We need to go. Now!”
We turn and run, sprinting back toward the passage that leads upward to the surface.
The light from the lantern bounces, making the world spin, but I keep running.
Raven and Dorian are right behind me, their feet pounding the rough stone, their breathing hard and ragged.
We hurry toward Adelina’s office, and we don’t bother closing the secret passage.
We rush through her abandoned chamber, and—
Something stands in our way, maybe twenty feet ahead.
My eyes don’t quite believe it. My brain is convinced it’s a trick.
It’s impossible.
In the soft candlelight of the lab, a shadow drifts through the room.
It’s here. Adelina Ward’s malum.
Raven lets out a little shriek, and we stop.
Every muscle in my body seizes up. I can’t move. It’s like I’m made of lead. My knees tremble, my hands, my body.
Dorian shifts, trying to process what he’s seeing.
Maybe shadow isn’t the right word. It’s almost as if a void has materialized right before our eyes, a kind of black hole that consumes every photon of light that touches it, creating a dark and shimmering illusion that makes my mind desperately try to fill in the gaps around it.
The shadow moves, twisting, revealing its true form.
It’s just like what we saw in the vision.
It’s taller than a person, with elongated arms, spindly legs, and a long and slender thing atop its shoulders that only vaguely resembles a head.
But it’s not a person. If it were, I could tell.
I could feel it or sense its thoughts. But there’s nothing.
The shadow grows as it moves, expanding until it occupies the width of the corridor, blocking the only exit.
It just stands there. It doesn’t seem at all surprised to see us. Or frightened.
It’s motionless, like it’s waiting.
Slowly, it tilts its head, and a soft hissing echoes in the chamber, growing louder. I don’t know how I know—it doesn’t have a face, or eyes—but I know it’s looking at us.
And then it takes a step forward. Soundless. Long strides. Coming toward us.
I don’t know what to do. My mind goes blank. Completely, utterly blank.
Raven—
Dorian—
Oh God—
Silently, the malum stalks forward. Wisps of shadow drift from its body like smoke from a candle that’s just gone out. Long appendages slither out of its arms, twisting like ink-black roots into fingers…and claws.
I snap out of my trance.
All at once, I’m moving before I realize it. I shove Dorian and Raven back.
“Go!”
They sprint in the opposite direction, toward the cell, and I turn to follow, but the malum hisses, and searing pain hits me.
I scream, but I don’t stop running.
The shadow is right behind me. It’s hungry. It wants blood.
Dorian and Raven run ahead of me, and I stumble to keep up.
It’s coming.
We crash through Adelina Ward’s office, back into the secret passage, back into the cage. Raven is the first to arrive, then Dorian. They’re screaming my name. The hissing and snarling of the malum drown out the world and grow closer—
I stumble, overcome with pain, dragging myself into the cell.
Dorian slams the door shut, and the malum crashes against the bars.
The iron, it’s protected, or so I guess. Maybe this magical prison can keep something out just as easily as it can keep something in.
The wards hold. For now.
Dorian stumbles back as the shadow drifts about the cell, its strange and spindly head turned toward us as it paces around the perimeter of the room.
As it goes, it melts into darkness, into a place the light cannot touch, but we still hear it, that unsettling hiss, like air being let out of a tire.
I’m reminded of a shark circling an underwater cage.
Only a few bars separate us from the predator.
Then the pain of my wound hits me. It cuts through me like a knife, and I cry out, falling to my knees.
“Oh God, Atticus! You’re bleeding!” Raven cries.
The back of my sweater is wet and warm. It sticks to my skin. My flesh burns, my nerves on fire. I know it’s bad. Raven’s hands fly to her mouth, and Dorian whips off his sweatshirt to press it against my back, hoping, perhaps, to stanch the bleeding.
My whole world is pain.
My vision blurs.
Raven and Dorian are yelling, but I don’t understand what they’re saying.
I want to tell them to stop, to leave it alone, but I can’t.
The pain prevents me from speaking. The hurt overwhelms me.
Hot tears dribble down my cheeks as the sickly sweet tang of blood fills the air. I taste it on my tongue.
I try to move, but the agony prevents me.
I think I’m going to die.
“No, you’re not,” says Raven.
Did I say that out loud? I don’t know, my mind isn’t my own.
“Hold on, Finch,” says Dorian. “Hold on.”
I feel Dorian’s warm embrace. His bare hands are touching me.
The world is slipping.
The pain, it’s fading…but so am I.
“Hold on,” says Dorian again. His voice sounds far away. “Just let me…”
And I fall into darkness.