When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy) (28 page)

“Are you done wallowing in pity?” Theosodore asks.

I look up to find his hardened stare boring into me. “How can you not feel anything when you look at all of this?”

“It’s my Malady.”

“Some Malady,” I say, wiping the dust off my coat and standing.

“I suppose I was just lucky.”

Pulling in a deep breath, I trudge forward in anticipation of what the main road holds. From where I stand, enormous thick roots skewer the sky. Cathedral Reims appears untouched, its various turrets, spires, and towers devoid of plant life. It seems safe, for now.

Theosodore squeezes into a narrow alley. Just as I follow behind, a voice crosses through my mind and stops me.

Amelia, help.

The voice is Colette’s. Malva disappears, replaced by a vision of a shack guarded by several Shadowmen. Inside the shack is Colette strapped to a chair, some unknown Shadowman speaking unheard words, and then beating her. The vision moves to the corner of the shack, revealing Gisbelle. What surprises me most, however, is not Colette’s sudden change of scenery from a vine cage to prisoner in a shack, but that Gisbelle is cradling my little brother. I suck in a hiss of air. He isn’t dead. He isn’t dead! There is light in his bright blue eyes. I could cry. I could scream. He is alive. Dear Colette, how could I ever have doubted you?

Colette’s voice enters my thoughts again. On the last road. You’ll see the shack.

The vision disappears, Malva appearing around me. Theosodore has a firm grip on my shoulder. I shrug his hand off.

“That was Colette,” I say. “She and Nathaniel are being held hostage.”

“So the boy isn’t dead.” Theosodore groans. “Oliver will have to wait, I suppose. I can’t have you getting killed on my watch.”

We hasten through the narrow alleys, fly across the root-choked roads, and find the shack Colette showed me. It is at the end of the last road, right on the point of the endless field soaked in snow. Just as the vision showed me, two Shadowmen guard the entrance, a flimsy door that could be blown down by a single breath. I start forward. Theosodore blocks my advance with a hand.

“I know you can control your fire, but let me assess the situation first. Some Shadowmen are far weaker than others, and I can sense that these are. They’ll be easy to manipulate.”

The more I learn about Shadowmen, the more mysterious their world becomes. “Your power isn’t effective against every Shadowman?”

“The stronger the mind and will, the harder I have to work, or else Asch would have been easy to do away with.”

I stay hidden in the narrow alley behind a pile of wood, keeping myself discreet as I peer at Theosodore. He approaches the Shadowmen. Once they see him, they start up. For a moment I think a battle is going to ensue, until Theosodore flips his wrist and the Shadowmen walk away as if their shifts are done. They cross my path, distant looks on their bone-pale faces.

Theosodore gestures to me with a crook of his finger. “Now stay behind me,” he whispers. “There are a few Shadowmen inside. They’re not as weak as those. Try to avoid confrontation, if at all possible. We will fetch Nathaniel and Colette and leave. We’ll determine what to do from there, but our next objective has to be Oliver.”

The increased frequency of the quakes shows that Theosodore is right. There can be no more detours.

Theosodore presses his side against the door and peers through a crack. He nods once, then kicks the door down, drawing a gasp from someone, followed by a terse, “Kill him!” The voice belongs to Gisbelle.

There are only two other Shadowmen besides Gisbelle and Colette, and from the blasé look on Theosodore’s face, he isn’t concerned about his ability to defend me. He nods toward Gisbelle, and I race out behind him, prepared to defend myself.

Gisbelle screams a “Get out of here, you bitch!” but she doesn’t do anything beyond that, not with Nathaniel cradled in her arms, so I decide to take care of Colette first.

Colette is not only tied to a collapsed bed, but also gagged. I have to undo the ropes first with a thick shard of glass, and then cut the gag to release her.

“Amelia!” She throws her arms around me, and for a moment I can ignore the smell of death on her and imagine that she smells like clover. She pulls away, her demeanor growing grave. She looks at Gisbelle. “We have to get Nathaniel and run. Gisbelle herself isn’t very powerful, but--”

“But what?”

“I think you can assume what her powers are. Human men find her hard to resist. She will use them as shields should she have to.”

“But there aren’t any around.”

“That doesn’t matter. She has bound several to herself, and they’ll come when she calls. We can’t allow any more people to be harmed.”

Outside, Theosodore fights the other Shadowmen. They’re stronger than the two that guarded that shack. His brow is furrowed in concentration.

Breathing in, I allow Colette to lead me over to Gisbelle, who sits crouched in a corner on a pile of dirty blankets. She cradles Nathaniel as if he is her son. He looks at me with a tear-streaked face, his lips pursed.

“Get away from us!” Her features are akin to the features of a lioness mother. She rocks Nathaniel, shushes him, and says, “I’ll take care of you, you sweet creature. Those girls won’t hurt you. I won’t let the Shadowmen hurt you.”

Her arm crosses a streak of sunlight that drapes across the dirt flooring. It is burned, her black sleeve tattered. “You saved him, didn’t you?” I ask.

Gisbelle narrows her eyes. “No thanks to you. You wretched excuse for a sister.” Nathaniel whimpers. Gisbelle coos, stroking his hair with her slim, white fingers.  Her eyes are soft. “There, there, dear boy. She won’t hurt you.” Rage simmers away the gentleness as she looks back at Colette and I. “How could you be so careless? They were going to kill this child. He would have suffered!”

Colette steps back, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t, you traitor.”

“I don’t understand because the Shadowmen want Nathaniel for the power he may potentially have as a Shadowman,” Colette continues. “Why are you so opposed to this?”

Gisbelle looks to Nathaniel, then to Colette, then to me. Her eyes widen as her frown deepens. Is she fighting some internal monster? Colette closes her eyes and moves her lips. She’s channeling something to Gisbelle, a vision, or some sort of memory from the distant past. Gisbelle cries out, pushing Nathaniel’s face against her bosom.

“You had a son,” Colette says, keeping her eyes closed. “Your husband died when he was an infant, so your son was the only thing you had. He was murdered at fifteen.” Colette relays Gisbelle’s past with unflinching detail. “Someone accused him of being a witch, though he wasn’t. Witches cannot beget other witches.” Now that is something I did not know. I suppose Deus has some mercy. “The priests were trying to draw the fire out of him. They tied him up and threw him in a lake. He sunk and never rose.”

Gisbelle shrieks. “Shut up! Shut up! You wretched bitch! You conniving tramp!”
Nathaniel’s whimper heightens, and Gisbelle’s tone changes. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean you. You’re safe.”

Colette snaps her eyes open. “Her need to mother is her Malady.”

“And she’s using Nathaniel to replace her son,” I say.

Colette nods. “I’ll try to distract her so you can get Nathaniel. Once you get him, you need to run. Take him back to Cathedral Reims. I think he’ll be safest there until all of this passes over.”

So much for not wanting to take another detour. “All right.”

Colette closes her eyes again and makes another connection with Gisbelle. With Gisbelle’s Malady, I doubt she will be able to connect to her marked men any time soon.

Maladies. What wretched things.

Colette starts speaking while I draw upon Gisbelle. “No one ever knew you were a witch. You committed suicide after viewing your son’s bloated body as they pulled him from the lake.” Gisbelle screams again, digging her fingers in Nathaniel’s thin arms. Nathaniel cries out in pain. All I have to do is get her to release him, and I can grab him, and we can run. “His name was Tobias. You shortly drowned yourself thereafter. They never retrieved your body. You turned into a Shadowman and were found by Asch.”

Gisbelle shakes Nathaniel around as she cries, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Nathaniel whines more, and for a brief moment Gisbelle wants to soothe him. Colette’s connection, however, seems too strong.

“Asch is dead, Gisbelle. I cannot connect to him.”

Screaming, Gisbelle lets Nathaniel go, the connection to her Malady gone, and flies out at Colette, all sharp nails and snarls and wild eyes. Nathaniel prevents himself from falling by leaping away and landing on his hands and the tips of his toes. I pull Nathaniel up, allowing him no time to process the situation.

“We have to go, Nat, now!” I grip his wrist and run out of the shack. I don’t see Theosodore or the other Shadowmen, but what I find is even worse.

True to what Colette told me, Gisbelle has called upon her marked men, and they barricade any chance I have of escaping to Cathedral Reims.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They’re all ordinary men: fishermen, fruit sellers, store clerks, accountants, and perhaps a pastor or two. Their eyes are glassy, their bodies tall and strong as they press together to form an impenetrable barrier. They don’t appear hostile, but they are the oppressors the Shadowmen want to get rid of.

Nathaniel sniffles. I squeeze his hand, and the men press in on us, forming a circle that we’re trapped in the middle of. I don’t want to harm these men. I may have to, but I’m not certain how I can do this without killing a single one. They’re too close together, getting too near to us.

That feeling of wanting to collapse and give up creeps back into me, but as my little brother presses himself against me, defeat is not an option. Nathaniel is alive, not dead like Asch and Sash claimed. I have to fight with every last cell in my body to keep him alive. Nathaniel did not choose this life, did not choose to be caught up in something I could have prevented so long ago.

The men stop encircling us once they cannot squeeze together any further. Now they just stand there, a human wall.

Nathaniel’s voice comes out small. “Amelia, what are we going to do?”

I ignite a flame in the palm of my hand. “Nat, can you control your fire?” He shakes his head. I sigh and hold the flame up to one of the men. He doesn’t flinch. Gisbelle’s marking must have also suppressed their instincts. If they were on fire, would they put themselves out, or would they keep trying to block me in, even while aflame? That is my primary concern, for I cannot stay back and beat the flames out for them. “We’re going to have to make a few sacrifices, Nat.”

Nathaniel shakes his head, letting out a teary, “No.”

I swallow hard. “We have no choice, Nat. It is either us, or them. And if we’re dead, then that leaves Theosodore and Colette to deal with all these Shadowmen.”

“But what can you do?”

“I can convince Oliver to stop this, Nat. I have to.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, and I build the fire up inside me. Nathaniel tugs on my hand, tears sliding down his sooty face. “Amelia, don’t!”

I shake my head. Tears choke me. “There is no other way.” I squeeze my eyes to fight the tears. “This won’t be me. This will be Gisbelle. She is the one who put me in this position.” And I know Colette said we won’t let any more people be harmed; however, not even she can predict how this rebellion will finish -- whenever we can stop it.

I bring my hand back to funnel forth the burgeoning fire. Nathaniel screams, and I let the fire fly free, wispy flames unfurling like butterfly wings as they fly out and latch on to the men. Our surroundings cloud with smoke. With Nathaniel under my arm and a hand over my mouth, I run headlong into what was once the barricade, and push free, breaking into a sprint.

“Forgive me, Deus,” I say, forming a cross on my chest that will hold my sadness for a later time.

Nathaniel and I have to run in between alleys, duck into shacks, and hide behind rubble to avoid further Shadowmen encounters and reach Cathedral Reims. Weeds now choke the roads, tendrils creeping along the sides of the cobbled stones and buildings in search of more victims. Blood paints the stones of the roads, forever marking Malva with the history of those who died today.

We fast come across the dormitories of the north transept and cross through the same place where Ann accused Nathaniel of being a witch. We stop by the doors to the north transept, a minuscule part of me hoping that, with one tug, the door will open. It does not. After sermons are through, Cathedral Reims locks all of its portal doors, and only unlocks them when schedule demands. With this war going on, I doubt the cathedral is maintaining its tidy schedule. If anything, Mother Aurelia would have done the responsible thing and herded everyone in the basement.

But it is unusual that Cathedral Reims remains intact in the first place. Perhaps Oliver cannot disengage himself from this place any more than I can.

Nathaniel squeezes my hands. “We can’t get in!”

“Shush, Nat.” I pull him along and scale the side of the cathedral, searching for a loose brick, something that will let us in. This cathedral is hundreds of years old, so its structure is not as fortified as it once was. There has to be a way in, particularly to the basement.