Page 5

CHAPTER 5

FIONA

T he staircase felt endless. Each step took us deeper into what had to be the most cliché evil lair I'd ever seen. And trust me, I've seen plenty. Purple light pulsed against the weathered stone walls. As you guessed, it cast eerie shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Why does all evil magic involve shadows? Likely because there were few things scarier. They’d been used so much, I barely gave them a second look.

"Ten quid says there's a pentagram," I whispered to Aislinn, trying to ignore how the temperature kept dropping.

"Twenty says it's drawn in blood," she muttered back, her breath visible in the unnatural cold. The banter helped remind me we’d been through enough to be able to predict what we would see. It would take away the fear when we eventually reached the bottom.

"You're both terrible," Violet hissed, but I could hear the smile in her voice. Sometimes, gallows humor was all that kept us sane in situations like this.

The narrow staircase opened suddenly into a chamber that would have made any wine connoisseur weep. The space was massive. It was easily the size of a small cathedral. It had vaulted ceilings held up by ancient stone pillars. Rows of enormous oak barrels lined the walls. Their surfaces were carved with intricate Fae runes that stored and enhanced magical energies. Now, they pulsed with that sickly purple light, corrupted by whatever ritual was taking place. The air was thick with the scent of winter roses and something metallic that made my stomach turn. And speaking of rituals. I won the bet. Again.

At least thirty robed figures stood in a circle around an enormous pentagram that dominated the center of the chamber. It wasn't drawn in blood. I almost smiled when Aislinn grumbled something about owing me money. Rather, it was carved deep into the stone floor and filled with what looked like liquid darkness. It flowed against gravity and formed shapes I couldn’t make out. The chanting grew louder as we crept closer.

Aislinn pulled me into the shadows cast by the massive wine barrels. "That's not Latin," Aislinn breathed. "It's something else."

"And much older," Violet agreed. "It’s pre-Roman. It might even be pre-Celtic. The cadence reminds me of those texts we found in that tomb in Wales."

I was about to suggest we call Gadross for backup when one of the robed figures turned slightly. There was a familiar notebook tucked into his belt. "Peterson," I mouthed to the others. Well, that confirmed our suspicions about the overly curious constable. His hood was pushed back just enough to reveal lips moving in the ancient chant. His skin was showing the telltale pale translucence of someone who'd been working with death magic.

The chanting reached a crescendo and the liquid darkness in the pentagram began to swirl like a whirlpool of concentrated shadow. Again with the damn shadows. Ghostly faces emerged from the surface. They were twisted in eternal screams. We were looking at the souls of the dead. They'd been bound and corrupted. And now they were being forced into servitude. The temperature dropped even further. Ice crystals formed in the air around us. Each one contained tiny reflections of the trapped spirits.

Behind the circle of chanters, I spotted something that made my blood run colder than the supernatural chill in the air. Three bodies lay on stone altars. Their skin was marked with the same binding runes we'd seen at the accident sites. Purple energy pulsed through the markings in time with the chanting. Dark veins were spreading across their pale flesh like ink through water.

"Now?" Violet asked. Her hands were already glowing with protective magic.

"Now," I agreed and stepped out from behind the barrels. "Evening, folks! Lovely weather for a bit of illegal soul binding, isn't it?"

The chanting stuttered to a halt as thirty hooded heads turned our way. I cast a protective bubble around us. At the same moment the leader, who was taller than the rest and wearing robes trimmed with purple (because this guy was a walking cliche), raised his hands. Purple energy crackled around his fingers like dark lightning. "Kill them," he commanded in a voice that seemed to echo from all around us.

"Really?" I called out as I deflected the first blast of corrupted magic with a shield spell that turned the air blue with force. "That's the best you've got? 'Kill them'? No monologuing about your grand plan? No villainous exposition?"

"Fi," Aislinn warned as she threw up a barrier of pure energy that sparkled like frost in sunlight, "maybe don't antagonize the evil cultists?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Snark was how I dealt with assholes in situations like this. As an added bonus, it usually threw the bad guys off.

I lobbed magical bombs like I was playing fetch with an enthusiastic dog. Except these toys went boom, and the recipients weren't nearly as cute. The resulting chaos sent robed figures scrambling in every direction. Their dignified cult aesthetic was completely ruined as they tripped over each other like drunk penguins at last call.

Most of them scattered faster than roaches when the kitchen light flicks on. Guess Evil Overlord School skipped combat training day. There's always that group that didn't get the ‘run-away' memo, and about ten of them stood their ground. That illustrious group included Peterson and Mr. Purple-Robes-Are-My-Personality.

They hurled spells at us with all the precision of a toddler food fight. Purple lightning crackled, black energy sizzled, and darkness writhed through the air like angry snakes. Our defensive spells met their attacks in a light show that would have given a rave DJ an inferiority complex. The chamber lit up like a disco ball in hell. It was all strobing purples and blacks with occasional bursts of ‘oh shit, that almost hit me’ blue.

"Is this really the best the forces of evil can do?" I shouted as I ducked another wildly aimed spell. "I've seen better coordination at a headless horseman party!"

I ducked and rolled as a blast of shadow magic sizzled past my head. It left a trail of frost in the air. The stone where I'd been standing crystallized and shattered. Damn that was close. I couldn’t dwell on that when two cultists rushed me. Their hands were wreathed in that sickly purple energy. I reached for my magic and let it flow through me like wind through trees. The air around me began to shimmer with power.

"Hey, discount Voldemorts!" I called out as my spell gathered force between my palms. "Let's see how you handle this!"

I released the built-up energy in a wave that sent them flying into a rack of wine barrels. The ancient wood splintered, which released spurts of something that definitely wasn't wine. It moved like liquid shadows and smelled of decay.

Violet's phoenix-enhanced magic blazed golden as she used her fire to disrupt the binding circle. Her flames cut through the corrupted energies like sunlight through fog. The trapped souls rose from the liquid darkness like a tornado of spectral energy. Their screams of rage shook dust from the ancient ceiling. The temperature fluctuated wildly as they swirled around the chamber. Ice formed and melted in rapid succession.

"The vessels!" the leader shouted, gesturing toward the bodies on the altars. "Protect the vessels!"

I ducked behind a fallen barrel as another blast of dark magic ripped through the air. "Anyone else wondering why the vessels are important?"

"Less wondering," Aislinn grunted as she deflected another attack with a wall of crystalline energy, "more fighting!"

She was right. I focused my power. I allowed it to build like a storm about to break. "Hey, Mr. Purple Robes!" I called out, gathering force between my hands until the air itself seemed to vibrate. "Catch!"

I unleashed a wave of pure force that sent several cultists flying into the walls. Their leader stood firm, though. He simply lifted his hands to catch my spell. The energy twisted in his grasp and was quickly corrupted into something darker. He rebounded with purple lightning, but Violet was ready. Her shield spell flared golden and absorbed the corrupted force in a display that lit up the entire chamber.

Peterson chose that moment to make his move. He slipped behind a pillar and emerged with hands full of what looked like black fire. He hurled it at Aislinn, who responded with a blast of water so cold it turned the ebony flames to ice. The frozen fragments hit the ground and shattered. Each piece contained tiny screaming faces.

"You cannot stop what has been set in motion," the leader intoned as he gathered power. His hood had fallen back slightly. I caught a glimpse of a neck that was so pale it was almost translucent. His face remained in shadow. It was hidden by magic older than any we'd encountered before.

"Watch us," Aislinn snarled. She stepped forward. Her Fae heritage was evident in the way she wielded the elements.

The leader actually laughed at us. The sound was like breaking glass. "Your power is nothing compared to what we will achieve. The old ways will return. The barriers between life and death will?—"

"Oh, shut up," I interrupted and used my magic to fling a barrel at his head. He dodged it. But not quickly enough to avoid Violet's binding spell. Golden chains of energy wrapped around him. A snarl of rage echoed from beneath his shadowed hood.

"Now!" Aislinn shouted.

We combined our magic. My nicotisa power, Aislinn’s elements, and Violet's magic and phoenix fire. We channeled it into a single devastating attack. Our combined power broke through the leader’s defenses. He screamed as our magic struck him. His robes smoldered with golden flames as he staggered backward. I caught glimpses of ritual implements and ancient scrolls tucked into his belt. "This isn't over," he spat in a voice distorted with power. "The vessels are already prepared. At midnight—" We increased the energy we funneled into our spell. An explosion cut off his words, filling the chamber with light bright enough to blind us. When it cleared, the leader was gone. Along with Peterson and the other cultists. The bodies on the altars had vanished, too. Frost patterns and the lingering scent of winter roses were all that was left behind.

"Why do they always have to be so dramatic about leaving?" I muttered as I leaned against a barrel. The adrenaline began to fade. My hands were shaking slightly from channeling so much power.

"Says the woman who asked for villainous exposition," Violet teased in a voice that was tight with exhaustion.

I straightened up, eyeing the corrupted barrels. "We should strip this place. Take out all the dark magic before they can use it again. Like magical pest control, but for evil."

"Right now?" Aislinn raised an eyebrow. "You can barely stand."

"I'm standing just fine, thank you very much." I demonstrated by pushing off the barrel and promptly stumbling. "Okay, maybe I'm a little wobbly. But come on. When do we ever get the chance to be proactive instead of reactive?"

"Usually right before everything goes spectacularly wrong," Violet pointed out.

"Five minutes," I insisted. "Quick cleansing, in and out. No muss, no fuss, no more evil wine cellar of doom."

Aislinn sighed that special sigh she reserved for when I was both right and annoying about it. "Fine. But we do this fast."

We formed a triangle, each taking a point around the chamber. We'd done enough cleansing spells to write a book about them (not that anyone would read it). This was different. The corrupted magic had seeped into every stone and every barrel, like mold in a bathroom. It was persistent and would be really annoying to get rid of.

"On three," I called out. "One... two..."

We raised our hands in sync. Violet’s magic combined with mine, and it met Aislinn's elemental magic in the center of the room. The energies twisted together. They formed a spiral of light that expanded outward like a shock wave. We were the first ones to successfully combine witchcraft with Fae magic. And we’d only been able to do it because I had shared my nicotisa powers with them. I could only do that with Aislinn because I was part Fae as well. We’d since taught the Six Twisted Sisters how to combine both sides of their heritage to create a more powerful force.

Where our spell touched, the purple glow retreated. It hissed like angry cats being sprayed with water. The barrels creaked and groaned as the dark magic was forcibly extracted. One actually exploded, showering us with fragments of wood and the last remnants of whatever evil juice they'd been storing. Gross. It was going to take a Silkwood shower to get clean after this.

"Next time," Violet panted, "let's check for exploding barrels before we start."

"Where's the fun in that?" I grinned, even as I wiped something suspiciously slimy off my jacket. "Besides, look. No more creepy purple light."

The cellar did look better. It was still creepy as hell. But in a normal abandoned-wine-cellar way rather than an evil-cult-headquarters way. The air felt cleaner, too. Although, that might have been because we'd just magically pressure-washed the place.

"That's going to leave a mark," Aislinn muttered, looking at the scorch marks our cleansing had left on the floor.

My phone buzzed, interrupting what would have been a brilliant comeback about home improvement. The message was from Gadross. Need you at the morgue. More bodies. Must contain situation before mundane authorities arrive. Hurry.

I showed the message to the others. "Well," Aislinn sighed as she rubbed her arms where frost still clung to her jacket, "at least we won't have to worry about finding parking?"

"Small mercies," I agreed, giving the now-cleansed barrels one last suspicious look. "Think they have coffee at the morgue? I could murder a latte right now."

"Terrible choice of words," Violet said as we climbed the stairs. Her golden magic still flickered around her hands, refusing to settle after channeling so much power. "Also, you still owe me ten quid from the robes bet."

"I'll buy you a coffee instead?"

"Deal."

Behind us, the cellar stood clean and quiet, free of its purple corruption but still holding echoes of what had happened there. The leader's words about vessels echoed in my mind, mixing with memories of those bodies on the altar. We'd stopped whatever was coming at midnight and made sure they couldn't use this place again. That didn't mean they wouldn't regroup and try somewhere else. I had a feeling we were going to need something stronger than coffee to deal with it. The morgue was going to be fun. At least we still had that bottle of Winter's Embrace waiting in the car. Something told me we'd need it before this night was over.