Chapter 32 #3
With a rough tug, the hands started hauling Miles towards the fissure. He dug his nails into the floor, bit and kicked anything he could reach, but it didn’t matter. They dragged him closer, inch by inch.
Robin watched from beside the altar, a hand over her mouth. She made no move to help him.
Gabriel was yelling. Miles couldn’t make out the words over his own terrified wheezing and that low whine growing louder. These ghouls were going to drag him into the afterlife, straight into the bowels of hell.
His shoe reached the edge just as the hands went still and reluctantly pulled away. Wicked faces turned as one, awaiting Felicity’s next command.
Blood slicked Miles’s palms as he scrambled back. Part of him wanted to holler at Gabriel not to give in to Felicity, but he was so relieved, the words caught on the lump in his throat.
Except it wasn’t Felicity they were all looking at. Emily stepped from behind her, sweat glistening on her forehead and shaking hands outstretched. “You’re not the only medium here, bitch,” she spat.
“Another friend of yours?” Felicity asked Gabriel wryly. “How cute.”
Emily ignored her and pushed her palms forward, like she was straining against a stuck door. The demon ghosts started slinking back towards the crack.
With a mocking smirk, Felicity waved her hands, and they froze.
Emily huffed out a harsh breath, a bead of sweat rolling down her face. Felicity’s smirk faded. The horde stumbled back another step, limbs twisting and jerking violently.
It looked like they were having a mental wrestling match for control. Miles didn’t understand how Emily was even holding her own.
“Mother said our gifts were weakening,” Gabriel muttered, helping Miles to his feet.
“I don’t know if Emily can win, but she should be able to hold her for a moment.
” His focus shifted to Robin and the grimoire.
“We need the extra page, to see if there’s a second part to the curse that can undo it. ”
Aunt Robin didn’t put up a fight, letting him snatch the grimoire away with barely a whimper of protest. She looked about to collapse in on herself and curl into the fetal position.
The loose page was still tucked into the cover, wrinkled, but legible.
In return for continued gifts of power through the bloodline, the sacrifice must be repeated by one member of each new generation. The same sacrifice can be used, so long as there is still life to fuel the magic. Gifts will not be given until the ritual is complete and the entry of power accepted.
Once the magic is invoked, the sacrifice must be completed, or the summoner will be taken as an offering.
If the pact between magic and blood fails, all gifts will be revoked. A price will be paid for breaking the bargain.
That was it. All things that Felicity had already told them.
“There’s nothing,” he told Gabriel, defeat heavy in his voice. “Pretty sure that’s on purpose. If you want to break this deal, it sounds like it’s going to come collect in an ugly way, so you’re forced to keep going.”
“No one forced my family to do anything,” Gabriel uttered. “Each one of them came down here and made their choice.”
“What if we take Bram and Edmund and leave Thistle, so no one can rebind Jocelyn? That could end it.”
“Mother will never let us out of here, and even if she did, the shadows will come for us. They’ll kill Edmund.”
A piercing wail blasted through the tomb, the final demon ghosts slithering back into their crevice. Emily was ashen, trembling so hard it looked like she was vibrating, but a wide grin broke across her face.
Felicity shrieked, strands of hair sticking to her glistening forehead and a harsh flush crawling up her neck. She sliced her arm through the air and the two sides of the crack collided, slamming closed in a poof of dust.
“I’m done indulging you,” she snarled. Shapes rushed in the surrounding darkness and the shadow tentacles reemerged, wrapped tightly around Bram. They dragged him through the air, the tips of his shoes barely scraping the ground, and deposited him at Felicity’s feet.
No. He was supposed to leave with Jenna and Amy.
From Emily’s horrified look, she hadn’t realized he’d snuck back in either.
Gabriel dropped the grimoire. “Bram!”
Balthazar hurdled over the altar with a yowl, transforming midair into his monstrous guardian form. But when Felicity wrapped her arm around Bram’s shoulders, hand encircling his throat in a clear threat, he halted. Sinking back on his haunches, he growled deep in his chest.
Bram was on the verge of tears, bravely steadying his wobbling chin. The side of his sweater was torn, a ragged hole trailing wispy string.
“I tried being reasonable,” Felicity snapped, smoothing her dark hair back with her free hand.
“I really did. Here’s the new deal. Gabriel—do as you’re told and finish the sacrifice, or let the duty fall to your brother.
” The silver-tipped stake appeared in her hand once again and she gave Bram a meaningful shake.
“What kind of choice is that?” Gabriel demanded.
“One you have to make.” Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Decide now, or I’ll decide for you.”
“I—” Gabriel turned to Miles. He would never let Bram take his place, be forced to do something so horrible. The magic would doom them all either way, but the sacrifice would break Bram’s soul first. “Please, Mother. Don’t make me do this.”
Felicity released Bram and strode forward to cup Gabriel’s chin, fingers digging into his flesh.
“It’s alright to be afraid,” she murmured, the closest to tender Miles had ever heard.
“That all goes away once you let the magic in. Let me show you.” She pressed the stake into his palm, curling their fingers around it together.
Jocelyn gasped, piercing and desperate. In her chest, four identical stakes appeared, plunged deep into her body, pinning her to the altar.
Gabriel’s would make five. Five generations of Hawthornes who’d agreed to her sacrifice, each one sealing their dark deal.
Felicity stepped back as Gabriel shifted the stake into his dominant hand, his face painted with lines of grief. He’d made his decision, and Miles couldn’t fault him for it.
Miles couldn’t breathe. The knife was hanging from his belt loop, hidden by his jacket, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it. Couldn’t imagine stabbing Felicity, feeling her warm blood on his hand, or doing the same to his aunt if she rushed to stop him.
He couldn’t. Not even to save Gabriel from this.
Miles. A serene voice filled his mind. Time slowed as he met Jocelyn’s blazing gaze. I have one final vision for you. The gift of a choice for my noble knight.
The room stayed, Miles’s eyesight blurring, smudged in the background and around the edges. He had the sickening sensation that he’d taken a step out of his own body, his limbs not his own anymore.
Gabriel looked at him. His voice was quiet but clear. “I’m sorry.” He smiled, a small, fond curl of his lips.
With a lunge, he got behind his mom, an arm around her to mirror the way she’d restrained Bram. The pointed tip of the stake rested against her jutting collarbone. Her nostrils flared with shock and rage, but she stayed carefully still.
“Get out of here,” he begged Miles. “Take Bram and go. Please.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Felicity hissed. “You’ll doom all of us if you do this.”
“Perhaps we deserve to be doomed.” Gabriel dragged her back a step. “I think it’s time we find out.”
There was movement in the shadows behind him. Aunt Robin—forgotten and hiding in the darkness—rushed forward, wrenching his arm back. Felicity broke free, falling to the ground.
Gabriel wrestled with Robin as she clung to him and clawed at his shirt, madness blazing in her eyes before turning pure black.
They struggled for a split second, only a heartbeat, until Robin ripped the stake from Gabriel’s grip and shoved him away in a surge of violence.
He went down hard, head cracking against the corner of Jocelyn’s platform with a sickening crunch that sounded like thunder. The toll of Death’s bell, ringing in Miles’s ears.
Their time was finally up. That invisible countdown over their heads had struck zero.
Gabriel was dead when he hit the floor. Blood started to pool as his empty eyes stared up at Miles, his fingers stretched across the cold floor for him.
Everything stopped. Tears raced down Miles’s cheeks, but he couldn’t move to wipe them.
You already know the consequence of changing this future, Jocelyn’s voice warned. Should you choose that path, do not fear. Death is but a release to explore beyond this life, to venture to places unknown. Your story is not over yet, no matter which choice you make.
It was the last thing she could give him. The most important thing. A future that was his to decide.
A fate that was his to make.
Gratitude washed over Miles, a sense of peace. He knew what to do, which path he needed to be on. All that was left to do was step onto it and change the future.