Chapter 23
Chapter 23
A witch generally avoided entering churches and cathedrals—for good reason—yet Tuesday was fascinated as she followed Ethan and CJ as they descended below Notre Dame two stories. Savin’s contact had led them through the church basement, underground to a cold dark storage area, then had unlocked a vaulted door that had led into a cavernous blackness.
They’d quickly found a path. The walls were initially paneled with rotting wide boards, along which had been strung electrical cords—probably a good century old judging by the frayed cloth covering. As their footsteps tilted downward, the walls changed to limestone and the floors graduated from hard limestone to dirt.
Behind her, Savin and Gazariel brought up the tail. She didn’t argue having the hulkingly handsome reckoner guarding her back. But the demon’s presence tugged in her sigil.
By the seven sacred witches, why could she not simply tell Ethan how to break the curse? Revealing the truth wouldn’t matter. It was not something he could do for her. And the way to break the curse was not something she could ever ask of another person. It simply wasn’t done.
But giving him her truth suddenly felt important. If she told him, then she could move forward. Yeah?
“Bring Gazariel up front,” Ethan called back.
As Savin shoved Gazariel past Tuesday, the demon waggled his tongue at her. The magic she and CJ had put on him kept him docile, and the blood compass they’d drawn on his chest would react to Anyx’s presence. The demon didn’t have to do a thing. They could read directions from the glowing diagram drawn in his own sticky black blood on his chest.
The crew waited, staring at Gazariel’s chest, and were rewarded almost immediately with a flash of blue light.
“South,” Ethan said, and he turned to lead them down a narrow aisle carved from limestone. Here and there an old section of wooden paneling and some ancient electrical wires were nailed to the wall. Chalk symbols marked by previous explorers were either signs of direction or made-up nonsense, maybe even cataphile gang symbols as Ethan suggested.
Parisian cataphiles were a fascinating subculture. Tuesday knew the crazy compulsion to explore the underside of Paris had existed for centuries. Actually, for as long as the city had existed. Daring cave spelunkers held underground parties and challenged themselves to find new, unexplored and extremely dangerous sections of the labyrinths. The catacombs spread all under Paris and in some areas as far down as seven stories.
When they’d been waiting for Savin’s contact to find the right keys, Ethan had mentioned the legend of the vampiress who had been cursed by an angry lover in the eighteenth century. The lover had a witch bespell the vampiress frozen and put her in a glass coffin. She couldn’t move her body, but she had remained conscious, always aware of what was going on around her. They placed the coffin somewhere in these very labyrinths. She had been found by a man who truly loved her decades ago. Needless to say, she’d gone mad during those centuries of suspended animation, and still struggled with sanity. It was a long and interesting story that Tuesday would have loved to hear more about.
While she wasn’t much for spelunking, she wasn’t afraid of the closed confines or the darkness. She had pulled on a white light upon entering and now vacillated whether or not to expend some magic to light up the ground with an illumination spell. There were patches of wet on the uneven limestone and dirt surface and she’d not worn shoes for hiking. Her boots had three-inch heels, and she could run in them, but forget navigating the bumpy surface with any skill. But she didn’t know if they would find Anyx, and if so, how much magic she would require to stop the woman if she intended to activate the spell, so she holstered any nervous desire to use the magic for the time being and wobbled onward.
Gazariel walked ahead of them all, turning on occasion so Ethan could view the glowing map on his chest. The demon wasn’t tied up, but CJ and Tuesday had put a heavy shackle on him. He was connected to her through the sigil, and much like the bonding spell CJ had cast on she and Ethan, Gazariel had to stay close, within the magic’s range. And they’d wrangled as much of his demonic magic as possible. He was pouting, and every so often Tuesday felt the tug when she lollygagged behind.
If it wasn’t a vampire leading her around Paris, it was a pouting demon tugging her deeper into the underground.
Gazariel actually deserved a good pout. Poor spoiled prince of vanity. Couldn’t get the vampiress to love him so he had risked sacrificing the world to win that love?
Tuesday was able to stop herself from giving him a comforting hug, though.
They may need Gazariel to talk to Anyx. They may also have to use blood magic should the code already be activated. And that may require a lot of blood. From the same source. And they hadn’t discussed exactly who that source would be.
By the blessed goddess, she prayed the vampiress had not the smarts to figure out the code from that book. A notebook in which some muse had scribbled down angel names and sigils? How irresponsible to put such to paper. On the other hand, that book had been in the care of an archangel. And now it was not. Superirresponsible. Didn’t angels have their shit together enough to keep an eye on one very dangerous book?
Tuesday would give the asshole Raphael a piece of her mind. This whole experience was one big clusterfuck.
On the other hand, this adventure had introduced her to Ethan Pierce. And she wasn’t going to begrudge that happy side effect.
The men leading their merry gang stopped walking. Ethan turned and looked to her and Savin, cupping a hand around his ear as a signal that they listen.
Gazariel stretched out an arm to indicate they should continue walking. “What are we—?” Savin hushed him.
Ethan glanced at the glowing sigil on the demon’s chest and then nodded toward the end of the pathway, where the faintest glimmer of golden light flickered. The scent of flame mingled with the dusty dry limestone.
“Is it her?” Tuesday asked the demon.
Gazariel listened, swore, then nodded. He strode away from the front of the line.
“Onward,” Ethan announced and took up the pace.
When he reached a T-turn, he stopped without going around the corner toward the light. Tuesday walked up to him and he slipped his hand into hers. “Listen,” he said. They both listened to what the vampiress was saying just around the corner.
Tuesday didn’t have to eavesdrop for long, or even understand the meaning of the words. The vampiress’s tone and cadence made her heart drop in her chest. “She’s chanting an invocation. She’s cracked the code, Ethan. She’s begun the spell.”
“We need to move now.” Ethan pulled a stake from his thigh holster, surprising Tuesday that he would wield such a thing. He nodded to CJ, who confirmed the command to move. “Get the demon up here.”
Savin shoved Gazariel up toward the turn.
“What the hell do you want me to do?” Gazariel said in a tight whisper. “Did you see the scratches on my face? I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”
“Talk her down. Get her to stop speaking the spell,” Ethan said. “Or she dies.”
“With that?” The demon snapped a finger against the stake Ethan held. “That’s not going to scare her. She’s been staked once before. Survived.”
Savin gaped. Tuesday knew it was possible for a vampire to survive a staking if he left the stake in and allowed it to slowly work its way out of the body while it healed. Not a fast process, or, she imagined, painless.
“Then we’ll use magic,” CJ offered. “Get in there now, Gazariel. She’s speaking the spell. We can’t let her advance to a final declaration to open the very heavens Above.”
The demon stood firm.
So Ethan tugged out a blade from a holster at his back hip and flashed it before Gazariel’s face.
“Is that...?” Gazariel swallowed. “A Sinistari blade? Are you kidding me?”
“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Ethan asked.
With a sigh of resignation, the demon led the way into a vast chamber that was lit with dozens of black candles. Flames flickered wild crimson flashes on the stone floor and walls. A dais toward the back of the limestone chamber revealed Anyx standing with her back to them, her arms spread wide. Silver jewelry glinted in her hair and at her wrists and waist. She wore a black sheath and no shoes. All around her a circle of candles flickered. And a dark liquid glinted in the pentacle drawn within that circle.
“Blood,” Tuesday said as she recognized the ceremony. Where she’d gotten so much blood—the chick was a vampire. Stupid to even wonder.
Ethan joined Gazariel, who stood stymied by the scene. They didn’t walk up to Anyx because a shallow trench about three feet wide and flowing with water dissected them from her.
Tuesday gestured to the flames flickering on the water. “A repulsion spell,” she said to the men. “If you cross the water, even try to leap over it, you’ll go up in flames.”
“Defeat it,” Ethan commanded her.
Not at all miffed that he’d sharply ordered her to do something, Tuesday spread her arms wide and chanted a suppression spell. There was no spell a vampiress could enact that she, a witch, could not counter.
Meanwhile Gazariel, nudged on by the threat of Ethan’s blade, called, “Anyx! Come on, sweetie, let’s not destroy the world today. I really like having humans around. Who’s going to make my favorite filet mignon if they are all dead? And who’s going to feed you, huh? Have you thought about that? You’ll starve, bitch!”
The vampiress paused in her chanting, tilted her head, but did not turn to them. She was smart. If she paused the spell too long, it would dissipate.
A sweep of Tuesday’s hand and the utterance “Deflagro!” snuffed the flames on the water. With an all-clear nod from her, Ethan jumped across, followed by Savin. Gazariel stayed put.
“So much power,” Anyx called. “I must own it!” Now she turned, and with an elegant spread of her arms out from her sides and a curl of her fingers, she announced, “Sarax conti expulsius!”
The stone walls shuddered. Dust spumed from cracks, increasing the dry perfumed air. Ethan looked to Tuesday. She wasn’t positive, but those could have been the final words to activate the spell. When the blood surrounding the vampiress began to bubble, then she was sure.
“That was it,” she said.
“The code?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure of the words, but I’m pretty sure they can be interpreted as ‘open sesame, let the angels all fall down.’ Get her out of that circle!” Tuesday turned and CJ already stood beside her. “We’ve got to penetrate her casting circle and strangle the spell.”
Anyx shouted over her shoulder at Gazariel, “You were nothing more than a tool, you idiot demon!” And then she turned around completely. Elegant black hair, heavy like oil, spilled down her back. Eyes decorated with kohl glimmered with red. A visible red aura, much thicker than a vampire’s usual aura, floated about her body. She was a part of the spell. It was her blood flowing in the water. Her scanning gaze stopped on the approaching vampire. “Ethan?”
Tuesday felt the intensity of the spell falter. The vampiress had to hold her focus to keep it going. If she was suddenly reunited with her ex? Fuck, she really didn’t want to do this, but—“Go to her, Ethan!”
Stake held at the ready, Ethan approached the circle.
“It’s really you? I’ve missed you, Ethan.” Anyx took a step forward. Then, realizing she neared the edge of the circle, she stopped. Arms stretched out, she unfolded her fingers toward him. “Come to me. We can be together in the new world I am creating.”
“Really?” Tuesday heard Gazariel mutter behind her.
“Anyx, you can’t do this,” Ethan said.
Tuesday and CJ quickly drew a circle on the limestone floor with black chalk before the flowing stream. A channel cut through the rock from the stream to the dais, which was exactly what they needed. CJ flung out herbs and crushed troll hearts and recited a powerful cleansing spell.
Tuesday drew out the athame and looked at her wrist. Blood was needed.
“A whole freakin’ lot of it,” she muttered, feeling her heart fall to her gut. They needed as much blood as had already been spilled to counteract the spell.
This had become a no-return mission, and she was not happy about that. Because hey, she’d kind of thought that finding love would be a good thing. Like it was time to give it a go. And she’d found a man she wanted to risk that chance on.
Too late for regrets now. She wouldn’t ask anyone else to do this. The magic in her veins was powerful and dark. Strong enough to subdue a spell a mere vampiress had cast.
Tuesday closed her eyes. “Fuck. Really?” The cut of the blade against her wrist did not yet pain her because she hadn’t pressed deeply. If there was any other option, she wanted to hear it. Right now.
Five feet away from her, Anyx and Ethan had taken to arguing. He was trying to move her out of the casting circle but it continued to repulse him every time he tried to breach it with a stab of the wood stake.
“Gazariel!” Tuesday snapped her fingers. “Help him!”
With a heavy sigh, the demon leaped across the stream and started an argument with Anyx over her fickle ways. But when he mentioned her inability to come because she was a frigid bitch, she snarled and turned to face the dais again. One shout from the angered vampiress again ignited the flames in the stream. CJ hissed, as he was nearly burned, and then jumped inside the circle with Tuesday.
“We ready?” he asked her.
“I’ll provide the blood,” she said.
He looked at her then, knowing what the sacrifice would mean. They’d not discussed who would do this. Because it wasn’t something a witch on a suicide mission would discuss. They’d wait until the last minute and hope upon hope it wouldn’t be necessary.
“You sure?” CJ asked. “Maybe we should give Ethan a moment to see if he can get her out of the circle.”
“Not going to happen. And we’re all out of moments. We have to do this now.” And as if on cue, the stone walls rumbled and the stream spat up fire. Tuesday pressed the athame tight over her wrist. “It’s going to take a while to bleed out.”
“No!”
Tuesday ignored Ethan’s sudden shout. Bits of limestone began to rain from the cavern ceiling. It was now or never.
Tuesday drew the blade over her skin, but it didn’t cut deeply because Ethan grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her out of the circle. The vampire caught the athame as she dropped it. Tuesday landed hard on the stone floor. And she looked up to see Ethan draw the blade across his carotid. Blood spurted and he bowed over the circle as CJ directed.
“No!” she cried.
It was too late. She had been pushed outside the circle and Ethan’s blood had conjured up a seal. She couldn’t enter it if she tried.
Her lover dropped to the floor and stretched out his hand to her. She could not touch him. What the hell was he doing?
She crawled up to the circle. “I wish you hadn’t done this. I won’t let you bleed out. I can’t. There’s enough blood, yes, Certainly?”
The dark witch shook his head. “We need so much.”
Tuesday bowed her head. She would lose the one person she had just realized she cared about most. It wasn’t fair. Ethan was already growing weak from blood loss. His eyelids shuttered. The hand he held extended, dropped limply onto the stone floor.
“Help me!” CJ called as he began the chant that would shut off the Final Days spell.
Though her heart had just broken and shattered, Tuesday nodded and crawled forward. Compelled to stop an evil that could harm so many more, she spread out her palms, embracing the circle and sending energy through her being. She matched CJ’s tone with her own rhythmic chants.
Out the corner of her eye she saw the vampiress dash toward the entrance. Gazariel called to the reckoner to go after her and Savin did so.
And from behind her Gazariel suddenly let out an ear-shattering cry that harkened to the angels, who spoke in myriad tongues to mimic all the beasts on the planet.
Tuesday’s chest suddenly burned as if the fire had leaped from the nearby stream to singe her. She struggled to concentrate, to focus her vibrations toward the circle and her dying lover. Ethan now barely supported himself. His blood streamed toward the fire. When it touched the flames, they flashed brilliant white and danced up the channel toward the dais.
The fire in her chest was unbearable. Tuesday screamed. The magic she put out suddenly left her in one final gushing effort. In the circle, CJ managed to capture that magic and directed it toward the dais, where the magic ball splashed into violet flames.
The limestone walls ceased shuddering.
CJ dropped to his knees over Ethan.
And Tuesday fell backward, yet landed in Gazariel’s arms.