Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 14

If it wasn't for Sachath hounding my every power move, I'd use my freakish fireball of an arm and burn my way free. But then pa.s.sing out in the hallway where I'd be found and confined again wouldn't really do me any good.

"Ugh!" Hours of waiting. Hours of wondering. If they were going to interrogate me, then: "Get it over with already!" I wanted a fight, to avenge Hank, to give the Circe a taste of their own medicine, but they weren't going to oblige. I kicked the door again and marched back to the wall to sit down. I drew my knees to my chest and pulled the fabric of the white gown around my legs.

I closed my eyes. Okay, chill. Find your Happy Place.

Of course, my Happy Place was Emma, which was a bad idea. I was too charged, too emotional. I really should have a backup Happy Place where things were good and warm and-my stomach growled-and satisfying. Ooh. Like Aeva buns. The Happy Imp Bakery where all things were fluffy, white, and delicious.

I rested my forehead on my folded arms and imagined myself lounging on white clouds, eating an Aeva bun, savoring every bite, every sugary flavor . . . Finally, I felt exhaustion easing its way into my body and mind.

Note to self: using food to induce a calm state of mind while imprisoned is not the brightest idea in the world-I woke to an aching a.s.s, stiff neck, and a really p.i.s.sed off stomach.

My feet were freezing cold, but at least the ends of the gown had dried. I got up and brushed off my gown, then worked out my stiff joints.

The door to my cell opened. I glared at the siren guard, all my earlier ire resurfacing. I did not plan to be a good prisoner or make it easy for my captors; it was the principle of the thing. "It's about f.u.c.king time."

He grabbed my arm to pull me to the door, but instead swung me in an arc so that I slammed into the wall next to the open door. "Oops, sorry," he said, and then jerked me through the door and into the hallway.

a.s.shole.

But I did note, as we went down the pa.s.sageway, that his voice didn't have much effect on me. The Circe were another matter, of course, but I'd been caught off guard before. This time I'd be better prepared.

I was taken into the main chamber, the ma.s.sive cavern where the sea flowed in and out, the sound echoing off the walls. Some of the white blossoms we had placed in the water during the Panopeic rites remained in the calmer pools. The Circe were gathered behind the altar, their attention fixed on the altar's surface.

The urge to be sarcastic and disrespectful almost had me saying Yo, b.i.t.c.hes. But I said nothing and parked a glower on my face as I was led forward.

They looked up in unison and I decided the whole triplet thing was getting old. I glanced down and saw what they'd been hovering over. Oh great. A certain stone tablet, yea big, with rounded corners and symbols just as Leander had described.

There was my ticket to free my sister and the others from their ash addiction.

Ephyra stepped around the altar and grabbed my right arm, holding it out to examine the writing as I concentrated on bracing myself against her voice. "It is the same," she said. Her fingers dug into my skin. My arm was still sore from the night before and it felt as though she was digging into a bad bruise, but her voice was so pretty . . .

C'mon. Concentrate on your power! I drew my energy into my core and envisioned it as a barrier against the Circe's voices.

Arethusa shoved the tablet at me. "What does this say?"

A wave of giddiness swamped me, but I held strong to the barrier I envisioned, finally finding my voice. "How should I know?" I tried to pull away but was held tight. "You're the old ones, not me."

"Yet you have the same writing on your arm."

"You must know what it means."

I jerked out of Ephyra's grip, rubbing the offended arm and taking a deep breath to steady myself against their thrall. "I don't. I have no idea what my markings say or what that tablet says. It's probably an ancient receipt for cows or something," I added just to irritate them.

"She lies," Ephyra said.

Calliadne touched my bare shoulder and walked around to my back, trailing her hand over my skin to the marking on my shoulder blade. Her touch made my skin crawl. Barrier. Think Barrier. Don't let them in."And this, do you know what this means?" she asked.

I swallowed hard, using my anger to focus. "I'm guessing the answer doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Not really," Arethusa answered, her eyes narrowing. "All we need to know lies with another. With Nierian, as he bears the same mark on his chest."

"His name is Hank."

"No. His name is Nierian," Ephyra said, challenging me with a lift of her chin.

Fury leapt hot and ready to the surface, rising in me with every word I spoke. "Well, if you wanted him to keep his given name so badly then maybe you shouldn't have lied to him, labeled him a traitor, killed his entire family, and then tortured him to death, you stupid b.i.t.c.h!"

Her slap was so quick I didn't see it coming. There was enough power behind it to send me airborne. I landed in a heap on the cavern floor, so angry that the initial landing didn't hurt as much as it should have. I saw stars, though, and the side of my face felt numb.

That whole don't kill the Circe thing? f.u.c.king dissolved. Disappeared. Gone. I stood, rage tearing around inside me like a tornado.

Rational Charlie reminded me I couldn't let loose the power gathering inside me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring Sachath here in front of them.

"Her arm, sisters, it's glowing."

I glanced down and covered my arm with my hand, not that it helped. The markings glowed blue from my hand to my shoulder. s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t. Calm down. Must calm down. Think of the bakery. But that only made me see red because I was starving, and that was another strike against them.

I never had the chance to calm myself because they approached me like I was some kind of interesting bug. A specimen. They began jabbing at me, pus.h.i.+ng me to lose control; they wanted to see what would happen.

"Stop it!" I yelled, hearing the panic in my voice as I backed away until my foot slipped in the water. I struggled to retain my balance, going deeper into the water until it covered my calves. "You don't know what you're doing!"

Before I could blink, I was grabbed by the neck, hauled out of the water, and shoved against the altar. The tablet was stuck in my face. "Read it, then."

"I can't!" I cried.

"Try," they all said at the same time. With my defenses down, there was no barrier, yet I was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with divine power. When I looked at the words . . . I knew them. I began reading, not knowing what I was saying. I was just a vessel, a conduit from the words in front of me to a language that was eerily similar to the way Sachath had spoken to me and Ahkneri had spoken in my dreams.

I spoke the words and then collapsed onto the altar, but was given little mercy as I was grabbed once again and shaken. "But what does it mean?"

"I don't know," I answered tiredly.

"Liar! You just read them! You know!"

I straightened, my endurance at an end, feeling drunk and reckless off their voices. I held my hands wide in a gesture that said I really didn't care whether she believed me or not. "I don't. Get over it, Ephyra. Now feed me because I'm hungry."

That really got under her skin, as I knew it would.

A vein popped out on her perfect forehead and a growl erupted in her throat, which turned into a screech as she came at me. Arethusa stepped in front of her and said very evenly, "We have much to discuss. Let us convene with the oracle once more."

That got my attention. "Alessandra isn't part of this. She doesn't take sides. She didn't know-"

"Oh, but the oracle knows everything." Ephyra smirked. "She's ours now. Just like Panope, just like Nierian, just like the Malakim, just like the king."

"Full of yourself, aren't you?" I shot back, but her words were burned into my brain and I had a very keen sense that something terrible had happened to Alessandra. I turned my attention to Calliadne, who seemed like the nicest of the three, if such a thing were possible. "What did you do to her? I swear . . . Please . . . just . . . don't hurt her."

A dimple formed in Calliadne's cheek as she considered my plea, met the eyes of her sisters, and then shrugged. "See for yourself if you'd like."

"Perhaps granting you this wish will encourage you to grant us what we wish," Arethusa said.

They led me down the pa.s.sageway to the chamber with the three doors, through the center one and then instead of going right toward the cells, they turned left, the same way they'd gone earlier with Sandra.

As we walked, I tried to prepare myself. She was probably just in a cell, or shackled to a comfortable couch or something. Who'd hurt the oracle? She was one of the most famous people alive. They wouldn't do something so foolish as to harm her.

I'd all but convinced myself of that when the Circe opened a beautifully carved door leading into an equally beautiful room that resembled the palace in style, art, and architecture. There was power in this room. Old power. In the center was a circular hole, a huge chasm in the ground, and in the middle, in a smaller ring, was a rock jutting up from the depths of the chasm. On the rock was a statue, a female figure rising out of the waves reaching for the sky. She looked like gla.s.s, water somehow made solid, but not. A gold, glittery sheen sparkled in the gla.s.s and from her hands a shower of radiant gold light spilled upward and disappeared into a round disk in the ceiling that also glowed.

As we drew closer, I saw that the chasm went all the way around the statue. A small bridge connected the main floor with the statue; the chasm was too wide to jump.

The drone that came off the statue and the shower of pearly gold was enormous, like a heartbeat filled with energy and power, much like the spheres and the henge in the Grove.

We kept our distance, moving around the centerpiece and into the next room, which was smaller than the vast main chamber. The room was round with niches built into the walls. Some niches were empty, some held pedestals with relics, objects, and statues.

We went up two wide steps at the end of the room and into another yet smaller round room. "Ah, here we are."

My instincts screamed at me not to look. I knew this wasn't right, them bringing me here to see, the feeling in the room. But I had to look for Alessandra's sake because whatever they had done to her I had to know, so I could figure out how to save her.

But as my eyes found her, I realized with a sickening turn that saving her would be impossible.

13.

"Hungry now, human?" Ephyra whispered as she breezed past me to park herself next to the pedestal in the center of room.

I struggled to stay standing. To stay conscious. Horror warred with such overwhelming grief that I could do nothing but stand there in shock and stare at my friend's head perched on the pedestal like some G.o.dd.a.m.ned trophy.

Oh G.o.d, Sandra. No.

I slapped my hands over my open mouth so I wouldn't scream or vomit, but tears flowed instantly from my eyes and down over my hands.

Her eyes were shut. Her skin gray, lips purplish blue . . . Her beautiful black hair fell around the pedestal like a curtain. A crack drew my attention. In the back corner of the room a griffin fed on her headless body. "Oh G.o.d." I stumbled back, dazed, sickened, falling and then scrambling up, crawling away, but getting trapped in the folds of the gown. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed and gasped for air.

Keep crawling. Just get away. Oh G.o.d, Sandra. Sandra . . .

I was vaguely aware that someone pulled me up. A siren guard. I could barely see for the tears clouding my vision. The Circe stood behind Alessandra's head. I turned away but rough hands grabbed my face and forced me to look. A groan burst from me. Hadn't I seen enough?

"Let us consult the oracle, shall we?" Arethusa said.

"And see the human's future for ourselves."

They chanted a short phrase together. Dread slid down my spine and all the blood in my body felt like it had drained out of me, leaving me with nothing but the cold.

Alessandra's eyes popped open.

I jumped and felt the siren guard jerk in surprise. Her eyes were vacant, but they were her eyes, the same earthy green, the same ones that had sparked with life and laughter. G.o.ddammit!

Her mouth dropped open and a voice came out, and I knew this was crafting at its worst and most powerful.

"One sleeps. One wakes. One weeps. One takes."

She stopped and blinked. A frown wrinkled her brow. "Charlie?" Her voice was lost, like a child in the dark, unseeing. Her eyes blinked, looking around wildly, but not finding me.

"I'm here, Sandra," I said in a strangled voice.

Her gaze snapped in my direction, though it seemed to look right through me. "I lied, Charlie. I have always been able to see my fate." A stunned whoosh left my lungs. "Charlie . . . the answer, the . . ." She gaped like a fish out of water, the instinct to breathe still with her. "Accept yourself to make the shadow whole . . . together, together . . . but not by your hand," she warned, ". . . and death will come to death . . ."

My heart hurt; the tight, aching squeeze unrelenting. I couldn't watch her gasping for air she didn't need, would never need again. Her words blazed a path into my memory and would haunt me forever. I squeezed my eyelids shut and forced away the image of her and the sounds of the griffin in the background, turning in the guard's hands as much as I could.

Then I was being led away, past the statue and down the hallway to my cell.

It seemed like ages ago that I wanted desperately to leave it, and now I wanted nothing more than to go inside, shut the door, curl up on the floor, and just lose myself in silence.

Sandra was gone.

As I lay there curled on my side, my back tucked against the wall, I wished time would reverse. So many instances played through my memory, times where if I'd just done something differently, she'd still be alive.

I stayed in that cycle, constantly replaying events, unable to stop until I exhausted my mind.

If Sandra was with me, she'd laugh and tell me I couldn't escape Fate. One way or another, no matter what path I chose or decisions I made, I'd always come right back around to whatever significant event Fate had in store for me.

And she knew. That's what was killing me inside. She knew! She'd walked right into that pa.s.sageway knowing what would happen. And still she went. The image of her looking back at me, all the emotion, the flash of fear in her eyes, it all made sense now. Now, when it was too late.

Her convictions and beliefs were infuriating. How could she have given up her life like that? She hadn't even tried to prevent it. d.a.m.n it, Sandra! f.u.c.k your stupid Fate!

And yet her bravery, to walk the path of her beliefs, to have such faith . . . It put me to shame.

And it all hurt, it hurt so much . . .

I cried until my face was dry and hot and my head pounded. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sleep or rest my thoughts. After a time, I sat up, wiped my face with the end of the gown, and just stared at the bland stone walls in disbelief.

Eventually, her prophetic words seeped into the numbness, and I let them roll around, repeating, listening, trying to make sense of what she'd said.

Far be it from me to guess the mind of an oracle, but it sure as h.e.l.l sounded like Alessandra had been talking about Sachath.

To make the shadow whole. Death will come to death.

Sachath was one of my biggest obstacles. In order for me to have any kind of power at all, I had to defeat it. And I didn't have the answer on how to do that. Sandra knew, and the more I thought about it, the more I believed she was trying to give me the answer-how to kill Sachath. But I had no clue what not by my hand and together, together meant.

My head fell back against the wall, wis.h.i.+ng she was around to tell me.