Sky Pirates (39 page)

Heavy drops of dark red blood and pus dripped onto the ground between his paws; his thick black fur was matted with it.

The hound lowered his heads onto his paws to rest a moment. He had followed his prey to the village, but in his weakened state, he could not go after her with so many people about. So instead, he waited in the shadows, growing ever weaker as time wore on.

And here she was, standing in the open, bathed in
moonlight. The hound studied the men that surrounded his prey. There were five of them. Two of them were on the other side of the barrier, in the Shadow side, watching on. The other two were just men, although he decided that he would take great pleasure in later killing the one who had driven the blade into him.

But it was the last man that bothered him the most. This was the man who had been there when he had been summoned to go on this hunt. It was the man who smelled of the underworld, the smell of home. No mortal was allowed to carry that scent. And this made the beast very angry. The man was after the hound’s prey and that was unforgivable.

The hound’s ears pricked up. Something was about to happen. The air was suddenly filled with the scent of aether.

With great effort, the hound pushed himself up onto his feet. He stumbled slightly as he took the first steps toward the source of the light. It was always there, even in this cacophony of smells. Always just on the edge of the divide between the two realms, the scent of freesias and engine oil.

“No,” Elle said the word softly, yet somehow it seemed to fill the entire temple courtyard around them.

Patrice cocked his head to one side. “What was that you said?”

“I said no. I will not do your bidding, Patrice.”

Patrice formed his face in an expression of affected shock. “You dare to defy me, even now?”

Elle felt a bright surge of anger from within. She had always been prone to bursts of anger and her temper had got her into a whole lot of trouble before. She had always ascribed it to the fact that she had inherited the Chance disposition, but now, as she stood there seething at Patrice, it all made sense. This was not your ordinary garden-variety temper lost. No, this was something far more complex. This was something that had a character all of its own. And in that moment she knew what it was: It was the unbridled fury of the Oracle.

She turned to Patrice. “And why should I obey you? You are nothing but a docking clerk in an expensive suit.” As she spoke, her voice grew louder and thicker with a strange ghostlike quality, eventually sounding like many women speaking in unison.

Elle closed her eyes and she felt the power of her mother and grandmothers surge through her. She smiled. She had nothing to be afraid of. The voices were here and they were fighting for her.

Patrice moved his pistol and took aim. “Move or I
will kill you here, where you stand. I am sure the next Oracle will be far more obedient than you could ever be.”

“You have ideas above your station, Warlock,” Elle said. “You do not deserve the place you hold.”

Patrice let out a laugh of surprise. “Oh no, my dear. You know the rules when it comes to warlocks. You keep what you vanquish, and I vanquished Grand Master de Montague fair and square. I am the leader of the warlocks now.” He wiggled the gun at her again. “Now start moving.”

“You dare to order us around?” Elle said.

“Aha! So the sisterhood has finally joined us? Don’t think I don’t know about the existence of their secret little hiding place. Its location is going to be one of the first things I torture out of you when we get home.”

Elle remained where she was. She could not have followed Patrice’s orders even if she wanted to, for she was holding back so much power that it was impossible to move.

Patrice let out an exaggerated sigh. “Very well then, if you don’t value your own life, then perhaps you might value the lives of others.” He gave Dashwood a dismissive look. “Not that one. He’ll be forgotten before long.” He looked around, his eyes narrow. “No, I think I have just the right thing to dampen that little temper of yours. I see you have learned to control it now at least.”

As he spoke he moved toward an invisible spot just off the edge of the corridor they were standing in. He stowed his gun and reached into the air with both hands as if he were separating two curtains. He tore into the barrier and a shimmering purple light appeared around the space he had made.

Patrice reached into the gap with his arms, all the way up to his shoulders. Then, in one fast move, he dragged something out through the hole he had just made.

There was a loud whooshing sound and then, quite abruptly, Old Jack and Hugh Marsh fell onto the stone floor.

Elle’s fury evaporated the moment she saw him. “Hugh!” She sank on to her knees beside him.

Her husband looked awful. He was as white as bone, and in places the tissue had worn so thin that Elle could see the outline of his skeleton glowing beneath. It was something she had seen in her mother when she had met her in Delphi. It was the mark of those born in the Light who dwell within the Shadow afterlife.

Marsh looked up at her, with his white wraith eyes. “Elle,” he whispered.

Patrice started laughing. “See, I told you they were here. Standing with their little noses pushed up against the barrier like children outside the toy shop. Isn’t that true, Jack?”

Old Jack stood up and dusted himself off. Then he opened his cloak and drew out a lantern. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought we would never get through in time. First, let’s get some light in this place,” he said, ignoring Patrice. He clicked his fingers and the lantern sprang to life, sending long shadows shooting up the walls of the temple around them. “That’s better. Now I can see. What was that you were saying?” He turned his gaze to Patrice, who was staring at him.

“Doesn’t anyone recognize what danger you are all in?” Patrice said, brandishing his pistol. “You must fear my wrath.”

“Yes, yes. You are the great warlock and we should all quiver with fear in your presence. We know. Eleanor dear, please don’t touch him,” Jack said, just as Elle reached out to put her hand on the side of Hugh’s face. “You don’t want to turn to dust on the spot, now do you?”

Hugh flinched and pulled back. “Please. No touch. Touch will kill you,” he wheezed.

Elle pulled her hand back in frustration.

“There is nothing you can do about this, my dear.” Jack shrugged. “Some muddles just can’t be undone. It’s best you take that nice young captain of yours and go and live a life of adventure in the skies. That’s my advice, if anyone is interested in hearing it.”

“She is coming with me. After I put an end to the both of you!” Patrice interrupted.

“I think the lady can decide what she wants to do all by herself, Shadow Master,” Jack said. “And besides, she owes me a favor or three. There’s no way of protecting my investment if you have her, now is there?” Jack said.

Elle closed her eyes in despair. She had come so far and fought so hard for something that was not meant to be. The realization sent a fresh wave of pain through her tattered heart; the sorrow was too much to bear.

The
apsara
had said that the secret to freedom would lie within her, that she had the power to do this, but that there was a price to pay. She now understood what that meant.

Marsh was still on the floor before her. He was gazing at her with so much sadness that it was almost too much to look at him.

“Well, I think she should be getting back now, old friend,” Jack said to Marsh. “It’s not good for you to be on this side for too long. Come along, say your goodbyes. Let the lady go and live her life in peace.” Jack lifted his lantern and turned toward the rent in the barrier. “I promise I’ll look after him until it is your time to join us,” Jack said to Elle. “It won’t be too long. A human life passes in the blink of an eye, when measured against eternity.”

Elle’s vision had suddenly gone blurry with unshed
tears. She blinked them away and looked at Marsh who had made no effort to move.

“I will always love you,” he said. “Now go.”

The words were Elle’s undoing. Marsh was really gone. The creature before her was a pale remnant of the man he had once been. To touch him would instantly drain her of everything she was, but somehow none of that mattered anymore.

“I must fix this,” she whispered. “No matter what the price.”

She reached out and placed her hand on Marsh’s cheek.

His skin was ice cold and dry like withered paper. Marsh recoiled in shock at her touch. Elle felt a deep vibration build inside her as aether rose up, ready to spill over.

“I did this to you. And now I am fixing it,” she whispered. “Patrice was right. I should be the one to go. You should live. Perhaps the next Oracle will be better than I ever was …”

Elle closed her eyes and let go of the energy she held. It felt as if she was inside a waterfall of golden light. It gushed and spilled around her before she had a handle on it, forcing it to re-form and pour into Marsh where he lay.

Use your control, Elle. Be strong and fight. Control it and it will not destroy you
.

Vivienne’s voice sounded in her head, clear as a chime.

“It’s too much, I can’t …” Elle said as she held on to Marsh.

You can
.

I don’t want to die
, she thought in the breathless moments of panic that followed.

Then live …
 The voice faded away.

Elle straightened her back as she fought to take control of the waves of aether that streamed through her.

Below her fingers, she felt Marsh’s cheek fill out and grow warmer. Slowly his emaciated frame became more substantial.

Elle held on, fighting with every drop of willpower she had, until Marsh sat up. With extreme effort he wrenched his face away and broke the connection.

The sever felt like someone had closed a sluice gate in the middle of a deluge. Elle gasped as she felt herself become the bottleneck in the flow of aether.

I’m going to explode
, she thought in a panic.
There is too much. I am going to go the same way the
apsara
did, except messier
.

Control it. Do it now!
Vivienne said.

Elle closed her eyes and focused all her concentration on the aether, pretending it was just a small globule of power rather than enough to fill an ocean. Slowly she extended her will, molding it until the flow became more like a river than a tidal wave. Then, slowly but surely, she focused all her strength on pushing the power back from where it came. The gap was no different from the gap in the barrier, and she had closed dozens of those. There was no reason why this should be different. Except it was about a thousand times bigger.

She started to shake from the effort. Large beads of sweat rolled down her back. Every joint and tendon in her body creaked and popped. Her bones ached as if they had been set on fire, but she fought on. And then, with one last supreme effort, she closed the gap.

The golden light went out and Elle fell to the ground, exhausted.

“Magnifique!”
Patrice said. “That was the most impressive thing I think I’ve ever seen. And you may believe me when I tell you that I have seen and done many impressive things in my life.”

He grabbed Elle by the collar of her shirt and pressed
his pistol against her temple. “But the fun and games are over. You are coming with me now. I have had just about enough of your obstinacy. It’s time to go.”

Elle tried to struggle but she was exhausted. Her legs were like jelly when Patrice lifted her up from where she was crouching next to Marsh’s unconscious body. He lay there, eyes closed and perfectly still as if he was sleeping.

“No. Stop,” she said as she reached out to Marsh.

Patrice just laughed and started to drag her along.

He had taken only a few steps when a giant black hound with two heads leaped out of the shadows, the storm rider’s blade still wedged deep in the muscle. It let out an unearthly growl before it attacked, launching itself at Elle and Patrice.

One of its massive jaws closed around Patrice’s arm, the one with which he was holding Elle. The other set of jaws clamped down into the soft skin around Patrice’s throat.

Elle fell to one side as Patrice went down under the shaggy mass of the hound.

“Elle!” Dashwood shouted. He leaped forward to grab her, but as he moved, Patrice pulled the trigger.

A shot rang out, reverberating in the empty hallways of the temple.

“Logan!” Elle gasped as she watched Dashwood recoil with the shot. His legs buckled under him and he fell to the ground. His hand went to his chest, where a patch of blood had started to bloom through the cotton of his shirt. He gave her an agonized look. Then his eyes closed.

“No!” Elle said.

The hound let go of Patrice’s arm and looked at her with one set of yellow eyes. She could see that it was deciding whether it could manage to grab her too. Patrice made a terrible groaning, gurgling sound.

It was strange how that sound, the sound of an enemy dying, was what galvanized Elle into action. It was time to end this thing, once and for all. She stood up, her back as straight as an
apsara
’s, and reached into the barrier. She was still weak and shaky, but she managed to grip it firmly.

The barrier was a strange and sickly-looking mass of purple and gold swirls, as the various aether energies competed in the space. She stuck her hands into the mass and focused all of the energy she could muster into it.

The result was like air filling a vacuum. There was a loud whistling, sucking sound as the barrier corrected itself.

Meanwhile, Elle heard a horrible growl behind her. The hound had dragged Patrice over to where she was standing. The stupid beast was preparing to attack her while still holding on to Patrice.

She watched the hound leap up; one set of jaws dragging Patrice behind him, the other splayed open, and aimed straight at her throat.

She reached into the barrier and ripped open a hole, then she ducked down low just as the hound reached her. His jaws made a loud clacking sound as the hideous teeth snapped together in the air where her head had been. The momentum of the jump propelled him past her and into the hole she had just made, dragging Patrice with him.