Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
M y nose itched the deeper we descended. Dust was everywhere. In the air, on the walls, even softening out footfalls on the old, wonky steps. It was as if Hekate herself had made stairs that lead directly to hell.
Down we went, until the air was so thick with time that I sneezed and hacked continually to clear my throat. Arwyn side-walked down the stairs, spending most of his time looking behind him, rather than forwards. The ball of blue flame shrunk, as though even the air repelled such magic.
The walls were not man-made, but rough and natural stone which the stairs had been built around, rather than the other way around. Stale water dribbled down the walls, making the steps slippery and the odour of mould abundant. I was careful to keep my hands to myself, not wanting to touch anything. Although I could only see what Arwyn’s fire allowed, I couldn’t stop imaging the thousands of beady spider eyes watching us enter their domain.
‘What good is conjuring fire if it doesn’t warm you up?’ I asked, the question thundering around us. It was cold in the belly of the earth. We must’ve been walking for five minutes, taking hundreds of steps, perhaps more if I bothered to count.
Arwyn shot me a look over his shoulder, mouth pursed and brow peaked. ‘Would you like me to offer you my jacket?’
‘You’re not wearing one,’ I said, fixating on the bulge of his biceps for the umpteenth time.
‘How about my arm then?’
I pushed my arms, gently, into his back. ‘Just keep moving.’
In the end I didn’t need warm fire or the promise of a jacket, not when Arwyn’s soft chuckle warmed me up.
After another few minutes, Arwyn warned me that the floor levelled out. He wasn’t wrong. At the bottom of the stairs, a corridor stretched out on either side. It was deep enough that a small crowd could’ve gathered, but we soon came to the end of the wall. Arwyn lifted his fire around, exposing each side of the corridor. ‘It just goes on and on.’
He must’ve noticed torches on the wall, because with a wave of his hand, the blue flame shot from his palm and hopped between medieval looking sconces. One by one they burst to life, sharing the blue hue until every detail of this strange place was revealed.
I drank it all in as a shiver passed over my skin. This was no corridor you found in a house or castle, but something crafted into the bedrock of the earth. And the itch to the air wasn’t natural as I first believed. It was magic which weighed heavy around me, pressing against my skin. It was as though the dark hummed with it, calling us in whilst repelling us all the same. ‘It’s a tunnel.’
Thanks to Arwyn’s fire, I could see the far-off curve in the distance. If the tunnel was straight, I would’ve seen for a further distance. But the slight curve was evident.
‘You’re right. And it would seem to wrap around the castle,’ Arwyn said, speaking aloud the thought my mind had just pieced together. ‘I think we’ve found the boundary line, Hector.’
A tickle of excitement spurred deep in my gut. I pressed a hand over it, distilling the feeling. Excitement was the wrong word to use to describe the thing inside of me. Because it usually woke when I fought Witch Hunters to the death. A viper, blood-thirsty for revenge.
Why was it waking now?
Everything was screaming at me to leave this place behind and never look back. But I wouldn’t, not until we got what we wanted. Answers. If not to the questions I first expected, then to others.
‘Let’s just get on with it and get back to Romy.’
Arwyn stepped in, noticing the crack in my voice. ‘Don’t be scared now, Hector. You’ll ruin the illusion I have of you.’
That stopped me for a moment. ‘And what illusion is that?’
‘I think you know the answer.’
I looked to the wall at our backs, turning my back on Arwyn so he couldn’t see the physical effect his words had on me. We were, for all intents and purposes, alone. If something was going to happen between us, better here than in a room when Romy was sleeping
No. Stop. It was times like this I needed Caym in my mind, arranging my chaotic thoughts.
I searched the face of the stone for any marks that looked like runes. And it didn’t take long to find them. What I first believed to be natural marks were actually specific carved lines and shapes, no different to the symbols in Eleanor’s grimoire. I scratched centuries of grime from the grooves, brushing the dirt away until each one of the three symbols were clear beside each other. ‘Place markers. They’re here.’
I laid my palm on the ruins, and the viper inside of my gut stirred. It shifted like a python in a wicker basket, the stone the music played through a pipe.
‘And…’ Arwyn stepped in behind me, his body heat radiating across my cool skin. ‘The runes are facing inwards, just as you suspected.’
‘Keeping us in,’ I said, unable to take my eyes from the three rune marks. Protection, authority and home. I didn’t need to open the page on demonology to recall the information. Although one word was missing. Prison . That was what this place felt like now—like we were trapped in it.
Eleanor had said the stone used had to be blessed by both sun and moonlight, and at first thought these looked like they’d never seen either. But after running my hands around the wall, I found more grooves. As though the rune-marked stone had been slotted into the wall, like a piece to a puzzle.
A puzzle I had to work out.
‘Did the grimoire tell you how we can remove them? Perhaps taking one of the markers out will topple the entire shield, or at least create a hole big enough for a certain crow to slip inside.’
‘Only the being who crafted the boundary can remove it.’ That had been made clear. And I hardly imagined we could entice Hekate to do that, not when the Witch Trials were the only thing keeping the last scrap of her power safe.
Something else unsettled me, a bit of information my mind struggled to grasp.
‘No harm in trying to break them, right?’
I heard Arwyn’s question, but it seemed to join the list of others my mind played out. There was one far more pressing question I asked myself as I memorised the tunnel and its rune-marked wall.
‘These runes were mentioned specifically on the page about demonology. Why would Hekate use them here? If not to keep demons out, but to keep them in…’
The air seemed to drop in temperature, a violent chill racing over my body. I was suddenly glad for Arwyn’s close proximity. I almost leaned further into him, wishing to steal every ounce of comfort his body offered.
‘What’re you suggesting?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, looking over my shoulder at him, recognising the genuine concern his firelight exposed on his face. ‘…I saw something, before the Enduring trial. Jordan, that witch that was killed by the Witch Hunter, his body was taken by…’
The memory assaulted me, thick and fast. Shadow creatures, splitting the ground apart, reaching up like hungry hands to snatch the body of a witch into the bowels of the earth. And suddenly, as I looked back to the tunnel, I got the impression that if those creatures were around, it would be in a place like this that they would bide their time.
‘Demons,’ I said, admitting the word aloud.
Arwyn laughed at me like I was a madman. Then he shook his head, running a hand over his shorn head. ‘I’ve gone over every text from every Choosing. If there were demons mentioned, I think I would know.’
‘And yet we saw them in Eleanor’s time, and the history books don’t make mention of that either.’
The ground beneath our feet groaned in agreement. No. Not agreement—it actually fucking moved . The walls shook, and dust from the low stone ceiling fell over us like ash. It happened so quickly that both of us were forced into silence. But it was as if this strange place disagreed with Arwyn’s comment, mirroring my own.
‘What about now?’ I asked, panic spiking.
I blinked and the tunnel grew darker. And darker. It was Arwyn who noticed why, looking to either side as the most distant lit torches extinguished, one by one. ‘Time to go.’
My feet were rooted to the spot, refusing him physically although my mind screamed of the impending danger. ‘No, not yet. We need to break this shield. I need Caym.’
Now more so than ever. I could face Witch Hunters. I could face witches. But demons, the possibility of them being real, that was something I wasn’t prepared for.
‘No time.’ Arwyn reached for my hand, but I pulled free. Using my time, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the grimoire, frantically searching for anything to help with breaking the shield—if not completely, enough for Caym to reach me.
A high-pitched scream pierced the encroaching dark. It started off as one clear sound, then multiple screams began until they overlapped with one another.
‘Run.’ Arwyn snatched my arm and pulled me back. I tried to restrain him, but his strength far outweighed mine. ‘Hector, move .’
‘Get. Off. Me.’ My heart was hammering, my brain aching in my skull. The darkness was making reading the pages impossible. But I had to do something. We had made it here and found the rune marks. I couldn’t leave without at least trying to break the boundary.
The snake inside my gut was poised and ready to strike. I couldn’t waste that feeling.
There was more screeching darkness from either side of us. Then the sound of scratching, like iron-clad nails clawing at stone.
Arwyn, without taking his hand off my arm, raised the other and cast a ball of blue flame down the darkened tunnel. The bolt of light shot into the dark, splitting it apart, revealing red eyes, sharp teeth and lithe bodies of feather and fur. Bodies of differing shapes and sizes. From wolven-looking beasts with long limbs and snouts full of teeth, to little beings like imps from fairy tales, except not the kind that granted wishes, but hungered for flesh.
Fuck .
Panic overcame me. Urgency and fear, two clashing emotions. Arwyn pulled me back harder, dragging me towards the stairwell. He gave into flight mode, whereas I wasn’t prepared to leave without a fight.
As the first step crashed into the back of my heels, I threw out my Gift, casting it directly at the rune marked wall. The force knocked debris from the stone, but did little to break it. Again and again, I sent fist after fist of invisible power against the stone. The more I did so, the tighter the viper coiled, frustration boiling.
The need to break something. Shatter, ruin, destroy. It was as demonic as the creatures giving chase to us.
The dark was closer, the demons swarming around us. Awarding us time, I sent a wave down either side of the tunnel, banishing back the creatures of darkness and claws. Arwyn was shouting my name, dragging me up the steps. Time was slipping. Our window for escape closing in, all because I was driven by the need to act.
Act .
I couldn’t when my parents were murdered. I vowed that night never to waste an opportunity. It was both a strength and a weakness.
A feral scream crawled out of my throat as I tried one final time to shatter the rune with my Gift. The force was great as both my Gift and the viper joined as one. It was hard to tell if the shadows around us reacted to the force, but it was as if a bolt speared out of me, directly against the rune-marked slab.
The song of rushing water filled my ears. Time slipped away from me for a moment, as a wave of exhaustion followed. The viper sunk back into its basket, curling up and sleeping. And beneath it all, I was confident I heard a crack. A splitting of stone, a fissure of ruin casting through rock.
‘Hector.’ A voice called out above the terror. ‘Hector, move. Please. Move .’
Darkness swallowed the tunnel, just as small fingers and pointed teeth reached out for me. Arwyn pulled me into his lap, throwing out a boiling wall of azure flame. He was like danger incarnate, spilling his wrath down upon his enemy. It hissed and spat, but from ice instead of heat.
Like the snapping of an elastic band, my mind became mine again. The exhaustion was still there, but the need to survive was greater than any weakness that could devour me.
As was the need to protect Arwyn.
I scrambled up, hands fumbling for purchase on the slick walls. Arwyn’s icy flame crackled and spat, but no more spilled from his hand. It was as if the creatures realised it could not hurt them. They regrouped, thickened the dark into an impenetrable solid mass and began crawling up the stairs as one.
We began running up the stairs. Arwyn allowed me to pass, putting himself at my back, shielding me with his body.
I should’ve refused, but the need to survive was great as it was selfish.
If I’d thought the stairs were endless coming down, they were fucking eternal climbing up. My legs burned as painfully as my lungs. Breathing was wasted down here, where fresh air was refused entry. I had no doubt my lungs would be ruined by the time we reached the mausoleum— if we reached it.
When I finally saw a slip of light, I almost sobbed from relief. But it wasn’t over yet.
‘Romy!’ I screamed, but the sound was strangled and breathless. It would be a miracle if she heard. I was distracted by the promise of freedom that I missed a step and fell. My knees cracked into the edge of a step, splitting skin. Arwyn crashed into me, huffing out a breath which strangled into a cry.
‘Hector—’
I turned, just in time to see hands, claws, and teeth grasp at Arwyn’s ankles. The shadows overwhelmed his lower legs and stopped. It was as if the dark released a sigh of relief, celebrating a catch. Time slowed as we locked eyes.
This was my fault. I did this. My lack of focus caused him to fall and, in turn, get caught by the demons.
Arwyn managed a final word before he was tugged back. ‘Go.’
‘No.’ The answer was the easiest to give, and final.
There was no hesitation as I reached out for him. I wrapped my fingers around his hand, then my Gift around his arm. A pop sounded as it was pulled out of the socket. Arwyn pinched his eyes closed, grimacing against the pain, refusing to scream out of the need to protect his dignity.
I focused on resisting the demon’s pull. They were physically stronger, but my will was far more impressive. When Arwyn realised his end was not certain, he opened his eyes wide. They overspilled with disbelief, worry, and most of all… regret. It wore his brows together, knitting them until three deep lines worked into his flesh.
‘Don’t,’ he breathed. ‘I don’t deserve it.’
The shadows were clawing up his back, feral creatures snatching and tearing at his skin and clothing, trying to get better leverage. I smelled blood, saw cuts both shallow and deep, his torn shirt and skin beneath just before the darkness covered it. Even Arwyn’s skin was turning pale from unseen blood loss.
‘Shut up,’ I growled, lip curling over teeth, ‘and fucking fight them.’
This wasn’t a trial or test. This was reality, no matter how impossible and monstrous it was. Arwyn was many things, but he was my coven foremost. I may not have wanted this, but by Hekate I had it now and I refused to turn my back on him.
The shadows hissed and spat, screamed, and roared. It was as if they were speaking to me, trying to claim Arwyn as theirs.
I looked into the eyeless dark and screamed, ‘he is mine.’
Mine. Mine. Mine.
‘Get out of here,’ Arwyn said, his voice weak and tired. ‘Go, Hector.’
‘Mine,’ I shouted again, at Arwyn and the demonic shadows. The tension against my hold lessened a little, allowing me to pull Arwyn closer to me. There was the crash of a door, heavy footsteps and then a familiar breathless voice from above.
‘Hekate, bless me,’ Romy prayed.
I dared look at her, dared remove my focus from keeping hold of Arwyn. Soon enough her arms were beneath my armpits, locking around my chest and anchoring her strength to mine. The added help made Arwyn slip closer to us.
‘They… won’t let… up,’ Romy groaned as she helped me. ‘Until we banish them back.’
I didn’t have the energy to say that not even Arwyn’s icy flame could harm these creatures. Nor did my power do anything but force them back for a moment. We were only protected in Eleanor’s blessed circle, and we didn’t have the luxury of that since I had just found out that we were trapped inside with them this time.
I threw out another blast of power, knocking the body of a small, twisted mass of flesh and fur, into the wall. A high-pitched yelp sounded, followed the thud of a broken body.
So, you can die.
They seemed to regroup at the death of one of their own. Even with the added help from Romy, they were winning. The demons worked to get a better grasp and pulled. Arwyn began to slip away. All the while we refused to break eye contact.
A trickle of warmth fell from my nose. If I had a spare hand to clear it, I’m sure it would’ve come back bloodied.
Exhaustion of a Gift was a witch’s greatest weakness.
When Romy spoke again, her voice was calm. Focused. ‘Together. Both of you, repeat after me.’
‘Don’t let him go,’ I warned her.
‘I won’t… but you have to try this. Hector, copy me.’ Then Romy began to sing. No, not sing. Chant. ‘ In light thy burn, holy and cleansed. For darkness has no reign amongst friends.’
Romy’s voice cracked, but not from lack of confidence. It was as if her words split the air beyond her mouth, whipping it, sparking it, charging it.
The demons hissed, their strength faltering. I blinked as a sudden light burst into the stairwell, as though rays of light cast down like spears piercing darkness made flesh. But it wasn’t enough.
‘Repeat it…’ Romy commanded. ‘Repeat it, both of you.’
Romy spoke the words out again, this time with more vigour. I felt the magic then, as though it had lingered in this air and was awoken by the rhyme.
‘In light thy burn, holy and cleansed. For darkness has no reign amongst friends.’
I repeated the words. The threads of light came thicker, faster. One would’ve thought it came from a budding sun, but the truth was far more confusing. Because the glow emanated from my mouth, casting a beam down into the shadows as if carried by the words.
‘In light thy burn, holy and cleansed. For darkness has no reign amongst friends. In light thy burn, holy and cleansed. For darkness has no reign amongst friends. In light thy burn, holy and cleansed. For darkness has no reign amongst friends.’
Even after we spoke the incantation, the stairway echoed with it. The light continued to make the demons retreat. Smoke curled from their flesh. Bodies fell. Creatures were forced back, peeling them off Arwyn until I could see the mess of his back. His shirt no longer covered him but lay over his skin like tattered wings.
If it weren’t for Romy, I would’ve lost myself to the damage. She was my strength, her chant giving me purpose and focus.
Old magic. It was here, thicker and stronger than it had been. Again, I heard the crack of stone as I cast out my final chant against the rune. Had it worked?
‘Caym,’ I forced out down our bound. ‘ Now would be the time to… help me.’
My familiar didn’t reply. And yet a part of me recognised that the message had been received, but he was unable to answer.
I tore Arwyn from the demons’ grasp as they retreated behind the conjured shield of pure-gold light. They fought against it, bashing their bodies into the light and writhing in agony, corpses pilling beyond it, shadow and smoke hissing.
It wouldn’t last. I couldn’t explain how I knew that, but the feeling was overwhelming. As though my subconscious was somehow linked with the bubble of light.
‘Leave me. Leave me.’ Arwyn continued to repeat, each of his arms slumped over mine and Romy’s shoulder. His blood seeped into my clothing, soaking me with its warmth. Arwyn didn’t open his eyes again, not even when we burst out of the stairs, dragged him over the vault and ran out into the graveyard beyond. Romy carefully slumped him into my hold as she ran back, shut the door and began threading the iron chains around the handles.
I looked down at Arwyn, his head resting on my lap. Blood was everywhere. My hands, his body, my clothes. His eyes fluttered rapidly beneath closed lids, his mouth mumbling words whilst his lips turned a strange blue colour. I ran my fingers over his cheek, clearing the damp, cold sweat that built over his skin. Nothing I did woke him. It was as if Arwyn was trapped in a lucid dream, sobbing and moaning softly to himself.
My heart continued to hammer in my chest. I couldn’t begin to piece together what had happened. Not as my entire focus was on the man in my hold, bleeding out from hundreds of cuts into his skin. They were up to his neck, where the demons had managed to reach. It was so destructive, I couldn’t see his tattoos beneath the wounds.
Arwyn’s arm hung awkwardly over his stomach, dislocated from my desperate attempt to hold onto him with my Gift.
‘We need to get him back to the room,’ Romy said, suddenly beside me, paling as she looked down at the damage. There was no ignoring it beneath the dull light of afternoon. ‘Clean his wounds and prevent infection...’
‘Too late for that,’ I answered, heart hammering in my chest, ribs threatening to crack against the pressure.
I knew the state Arwyn was in. This fever, the reaction to a demon’s poison. He had saved me from it during the Enduring, and it was my time to repay the favour. But Arwyn was heavier than I was, there was no way we could carry his dead weight all the way back to the room. Not only was the distance an issue, but the witches out for blood stood between us and safety.
Although after what we had just faced, I dared another to stand in my way.
I encased Arwyn’s limp body in my Gift and hoisted him into the air. Arwyn floated beside me, steady as a board of wood. I felt the trickle of blood leave my nose, but I didn’t care. Nor did I try to clear it away. I fought against the exhaustion and weakness, promising myself just a couple more minutes, then I would let myself rest. My focus was on getting Arwyn to safety, before the poison took over.
Before it took him from me.
And with every step we took towards the castle, and through it, my mind repeated with a single word I had screamed at the shadows. It narrowed my focus, making time pass in a blur.
Mine. Mine. Mine.