Chapter 5
Chapter five
Delilah
Huddled beneath my cloak, I crouched lower, trying to hide my entire body behind the squat headstone, but it was no use. The crisp autumn air still cut to the bone. Rubbing my hands together for warmth, I let out a frustrated sigh, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do now.
For my entire life, there had only been one plan: when the Order of the Broken Veil finally caught up with us, I was to run to Father Phips.
Well, I’d done that, only to be met with a new nightmare.
Father Phips was dead, and now I was all alone.
“Well,” I said, curling one hand protectively around the pouch across my chest. In my other hand, I held a tiny, glowing ball of witchlight, its muted glow offering little in the way of light but lots in the way of comfort.
Witchlight was surprisingly easy for me to conjure, coming almost without thought. It was something Heidi could never explain. “I guess I’m not entirely alone, right Pandora?”
Her tiny black nose poked out the top of the pouch as she sniffed the air. After a few seconds she offered up a couple of disgruntled clicks and then disappeared back into the warm confines of her cozy, makeshift nest.
“Yeah. I don’t blame you.”
Settling back against the headstone, I let out a frustrated huff of my own and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I knew I’d have to get inside the church and take a look around, but the middle of the night didn’t seem to be the best time to try and accomplish that.
Bringing my hand up, I toyed with the pendant hanging around my neck, feeling heartsick once again that I had been forced to leave Heidi behind.
I could still hear her terrified screams as she had stood her ground, giving me the time I needed to escape.
Had I known I’d never see her again, I would have stayed, fought beside her.
But she’d insisted and I’d listened, as I always had.
And this time, it was Heidi who’d paid the price.
Blinking back yet another wash of tears, I shook my head. There would be time for crying later. Right now, I needed to figure out my next move.
Heidi had told me that Father Phips was a Guardian, and as such, he was supposed to act as a safe haven for everyone who needed shelter from the darkness.
Glancing at the front of the church, I could see the yellow police tape that still hung from the wrought iron fence, blowing in the cold October wind, and I shivered.
Phips was a Guardian no longer.
And that meant I was well and truly fucked.
Standing, I brushed the dead grass and leaves off the hem of my cloak, ready to find a more appropriate place to bed down for the night before I returned tomorrow morning, when a noise on the far side of the churchyard caught my attention.
In her pouch, Pandora chittered madly, wriggling and clawing as she fought to escape.
“Easy,” I cooed, undoing the drawstring and making room for her plump little body to climb out. “If you’re hungry, just say so.” She waddled into my cupped hands, her pointy spines all standing at attention as she sniffed the air rapidly, continuing to click and squeak animatedly.
“Pandora, what in the—Oh!”
I froze, the squirming hedgehog clutched to my chest, as a thick black something started creeping through the cemetery like fog rolling in off an angry ocean.
Crawling between the gravestones and towering statues, I watched as the liquid shadows inched along, their ends whipping this way and that, as though searching for something.
“Fuck!” Stuffing Pandora back into her pouch—and ignoring her indignant squeaks while I did it—I reached into my own bag, withdrawing a smudge stick and lighter.
Other witches could conjure a flame with the briefest thought, generating anything from a spark to an inferno in the blink of an eye.
But, thanks to my stunted magic, a lighter was more reliable than any attempts I could make on my own.
Usually, anyway. This particular lighter seemed to want to be a pain in my ass today.
“Come on. Come on!” I whispered, my trembling thumb failing to generate a spark on the second or even third try. “Please!”
Finally, the lighter flared to life, and I held the small flame to the end of the bundle of dried white sage leaves. Exhaling a gentle breath, the sage began smoldering brightly in the night as I pocketed the lighter and began to chant.
“Custodi me de tenebris. Custodi me in lumine.”
Over and over I whispered the words Heidi had taught me, whipping the smudge stick back and forth as the shadows crept closer and closer. Backing away, because I refused to take my eyes off them, I moved slowly until I found my back pressed against the fence that surrounded the cemetery.
And the shadows kept moving.
“Fuck.” Throwing the smudge stick down, I shoved my hand into my satchel, feeling around for the leather drawstring pouch I knew was there. Once I had it, I poured a fist full of the contents into my hand.
“Custodi me de tenebris!” I panted, sprinkling the consecrated salt in a rough circle around me, attempting to create a barrier.
I may have been lacking strength in most aspects of my magic, but I was a rock star at consecrating things.
The shadows immediately stopped advancing, instead climbing higher and higher, creating a near solid wall around the edge of my salt circle. “Get the fuck away from me!”
“Now, now,” came a voice like velvet, and I froze, the small hairs on my body rising. “That’s no way for a lady to talk.”
I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, the pure energy radiating across the cemetery and straight into my soul.
I knew he was dangerous—I could tell that easily—but there was something about that voice and the energy that danced around me that was almost seductive.
It was as though all my self-preservation instincts were going haywire, telling me that the most dangerous man in the room simply wasn’t a danger to me.
But that was crazy. Right?
I nodded to myself, even as something stirred within the depths of the void in my chest.
The shadows, stalled at the edge of my haphazard salt circle, continued to writhe, poking and prodding at my protection, looking for a way in.
I had heard stories about shadows like those, whispered tales so far-fetched they couldn’t have been anything other than fiction, and yet...here they were, like a nightmare come to life.
I stared at them, my panicked brain trying to process the sight of sentient shadows while also attempting to come up with an escape plan, because I knew that I couldn’t stay where I was.
Whatever was coming for me now was bigger than anything the Order of the Broken Veil had ever thrown at Heidi and me.
“Bruja.” A new voice spoke to my right, startling me and drawing my attention away from the pulsing energy pounding at the inside of my skull.
Rougher and less refined, this voice was low and animalistic, feeling like an immediate threat.
“Strega. Heks. Noita.” Over and over he spoke, his breathing picking up with every word he uttered.
“However you wanna say it, boss, she’s a witch. ”
Above me, the whispered sound of feathered wings beating against the air hissed by my head, and I ducked reflexively before I could stop myself. From my other side came a low, resonating growl, and I knew that I was surrounded, one on either side and him right in front.
“I’m aware, Vine. Thank you.” The first voice was closer, sounding like it was coming from right before me, but the thick wall of shadows prevented me from actually seeing anything.
I might as well have been wearing a blindfold for all I could see.
In her pouch, Pandora squirmed but made no attempt to intervene.
“The real question is, what is a witch doing here all alone when we have a dead Guardian and a stolen artifact on our hands?”
His words caught me by surprise, and I felt my eyes widen.
Stolen artifact?
If what he said was true, then I really was in trouble, because lost witches weren’t the only thing Father Phips was supposed to be protecting.
Eyeing my backpack on the ground by my feet, I considered my options. I could stay, stand my ground and fight the way Heidi had, but that was a long shot.
Not only had I spent my entire life running, but I was fairly certain I’d never seen enemies like these before.
If I stayed, I was dead. No question.
That left running. Sighing internally, I mentally said goodbye to my backpack, knowing that if I made a move for it, I’d give away my intentions and be caught before I even took a step.
Instead, I hunched forward, rolling my shoulders as though I was trying to protect myself from the encroaching shadows still pawing at my salt barrier.
As I did, my cloak moved, sliding in front of me and concealing my hands from view.
I may not have been able to see more than twelve inches in front of my face, but I knew for sure that whoever was out there was watching me.
Closely.
“Please,” I whispered, not even having to fake the shakiness of my voice. Carefully, I slid my hand back into my satchel, my fingers hunting for a specific item while trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s what the last witch said,” the second voice, Vine, sneered, and I could feel his hatred of me in every syllable. “Right before I ate his soul.”
Now I was really shaking. Soul eaters? I was so fucked.
“Please let me go,” I whispered, my fingers wrapping around the small glass vial I was looking for. Heidi had drilled into me that this particular item was not to be trifled with. 'Only as a last resort,' she'd warned. 'It'll buy you time, but it'll also let everyone know exactly where you are.”
My hand trembled as I stroked the cork stopper with my thumb, careful to keep the vial sealed up tight. White phosphorus was no joke, but when it was mixed with Holy Water and oxygen, it transformed into more than a weapon.
It became my last hope for salvation.
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“I do love it when they beg,” the first one said with a low chuckle, and I was done.
Pulling the vial out, I lifted my head, offering a sarcastic smile as I stared into the black shadows, estimating where I thought his condescending voice was coming from.
“Please,” I spat, any desperation I had felt now turned to angry resolve. “I’m begging you to fuck off.”
Then I tossed the vial, hopped the fence, and ran as the night exploded behind me.