Uncertain Allies

23

Meryl lay propped up in her bed in Briallen’s guest room, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Upstairs, Briallen and Nigel prepared the sanctum sanctorum. I played with Meryl’s hand, twining my fingers through hers. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, Meryl, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t trust Nigel, but Briallen says this might work. I can’t stand seeing you like this, but I’m afraid, okay? I’m afraid you might never come out of this, and I’m afraid Nigel has some motive I haven’t figured out. But I can’t not do anything. I’ll be right beside you, and so will Briallen.”

She didn’t answer. That would have been too much to ask, never mind too-perfect timing. A cool touch against my forehead preceded Briallen’s sending. We’re ready.

I lifted Meryl’s hand and kissed it. “Time to go.”

Her weight barely registered in my arms as I picked her up. She curled into me like a child, her head bowed and leaning into the crook of my shoulder. I didn’t rush to the fifth floor of the house, worried I’d slip or bang against something. At the top of the stairs, I paused to catch my breath.

Soft yellow light filtered out of a stone arch centered in the wall on the top-floor landing. The stone door stood open, Celtic spirals and knots inscribed over its entire surface. Essence flickered in the swirling patterns, glowing shades of blue, white, and yellow. The door replaced another that had been destroyed last year. That was my fault, but I didn’t feel guilty about it. No one got hurt that time, and lives were saved. Briallen never said a word about replacing it. The new door was more ornate than the last one. I was sure it cost her a pretty penny. Not that I could afford to pay her back, but I liked to know my debts. Despite its weight and size, it moved with a bare touch, balanced on carved-stone hinges.

I waited in the doorway as Briallen and Nigel finished their preparations. Dressed in plain muslin robes, they faced each other across a long granite slab that took up the center of the oval room. The room was a jeweler’s dream, every surface encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other gemstones that glittered in the light from candles set in niches. The floor tiles had bloodstone and quartz embedded in them. Sapphires and opals—ward gems of a moon worshipper—clustered about the foot of the table. Some stones glowed with their own inner light, evidence of the resonant essence that created a safe environment in the room, sealing it from outside forces.

I had seen Briallen’s sanctum once before when she needed me to act as her anchor while she went into a trance. What Nigel had proposed was similar. The problem was that none of us had been designated as an anchor when whatever happened to Meryl happened. The challenge would be getting her essence to latch onto someone, who would then guide her back to the waking world.

That someone wasn’t going to be me. Nigel explained his intentions, which depended on a fine understanding of body essence. The dark mass was a wild variable. Without knowing what the black mass was, it was impossible to take it into account in the spells. I understood and had to accept that. It didn’t mean I liked it.

I lowered Meryl onto the slab. A thin white cloth over the table didn’t provide much cushioning. Briallen arranged Meryl’s arms and legs in as comfortable a position as she could for someone lying on cold stone. Nigel moved to the head of the table and placed his hands on Meryl’s shoulders. “You need to leave now, Connor.”

He didn’t say it with the usual snide tone he had adopted for me. It was a statement of fact. Even without the ritual starting, the dark mass in my head pounded against my skull, eager for the ambient essence in the room. I caressed Meryl’s hand and stepped away.

Briallen wrapped her arm in mine and escorted me out onto the landing. “Remember: This will either work or it won’t. If it doesn’t, we’ve lost nothing.”

I kissed her on the forehead. “Okay. I’ll wait in the parlor.”

She squeezed my arm and let me slip into the hall. Our eyes met as she pushed the door closed behind me. It will be fine, she sent.

More spirals on the door flared as it closed. I reached out, wanting to help, but the dark mass in my head shot a dagger of pain down my arm. It wanted the essence in the door, maybe even in the people on the other side. I clenched my jaw as I backed away, trying to understand how to make the darkness behave. It receded either because of my thoughts or my moving away from the door.

I descended the stairs all the way to the kitchen and made coffee. Trance rituals took time, and I had to distract myself. I brought a tray up to the parlor with some cookies Briallen had made. Only Briallen would think of baking my favorite cookies before embarking on a complicated essence experiment. I wished I was that attentive and organized.

I placed the tray on the table near an armchair by the fireplace. The blue flames burned in the grate higher and brighter than usual. From my years living in the house, I knew they did that in reaction to essence in the house.

I browsed through Briallen’s bookshelves. The fascinating thing about her library was that it always surprised. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve looked through her books, yet whenever I approached it with a new question, I found a new book. Part of that was the sheer wealth of information. Many times, I didn’t get beyond the first shelf before I discovered something I had to read right then. Like now, I started looking for something on powered stones and instead ended up seated with a book on dwarves and their customs.

I startled at a noise and realized I had dozed off. My book had slipped to the floor, but that wasn’t what had awakened me. Something fell in the next room. I hurried across the second-floor landing to the workroom. Briallen crouched on the floor beneath a table, rummaging in boxes.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.

She didn’t look up. “Nigel is deep in trance. We need more crystal to anchor him.”

I came around the table to help her. “What’s happening, Briallen?”

She looked up at me, tired but pleased. “We found her, Connor. Her spirit was lost, but Nigel found her. We need to pull them back.”

Relief swept over me. “What do you need?”

“Orbs. Quartz crystal, preferably selenite. Check those shelves.”

I pulled a large fabric box from a high shelf and placed it on the table, tossing aside paper wrapping. “You used to keep some in here.”

She cocked her head at me. “And you know that how?”

I threw her a guilty look. “I accidentally climbed up there once and found them.”

She shook her head with amused annoyance. “Never doubt the inquisitiveness of a teenage druid.”

I lifted a rose quartz sphere from the bottom of the box. “Here’s the one.”

The dark mass in my head spiked as a wave of essence washed over me. I clutched the sphere to my chest to avoid dropping it. Another wave hit, crashing over me, and a spear of black shadow stabbed out of my right eye and struck the table. Briallen leaped out of the way, backing against the wall.

The room trembled. Boxes and papers slid from the shelves. Glass bottles along the windowsill rattled against each other as the worktable danced in place.

“Are you controlling this?” Briallen asked. Her voice sounded far away.

I thrust the sphere at her, and she grabbed it. I slipped to my knees. My right hand curled into a stiff claw of black. Another wave of essence swept over me. I recognized it then, knew it as intimately as my own. Meryl’s body signature permeated the air. “It’s not me. It’s Meryl.”

Shadow filled the room as Briallen stumbled out the door. I crawled after her, pulling myself to my feet. Out in the hall, Briallen struggled up the stairs. As the house shook around us, I followed, unsure if I would make matters worse or not. The darkness blinded me on one side but enhanced my sensing ability. The air seethed with essence, roiling clouds of angry colors grinding against each other. As we turned the stairs to the top floor, a concussion of air slapped us back. Briallen stumbled into my arms, knocking me off-balance. We fell, rolling to the landing, our fall cushioned by her body shields.

The shaking stopped. The crazed essence that had filled the air retreated up the stairs. Briallen and I faced each other, our legs tangled where we had fallen. The darkness in my eye withdrew, a thick, painful ooze into my head. A heavy panting sound filled the silence.

I pushed myself up. “Meryl.”

I half ran, half crawled up the remaining stairs as I tried to move before my feet were under me. Meryl sprawled on the landing, her head propped up against the banister. She turned her head—my heart raced to see it—she turned her head to look up at me. I fell to the floor and gathered her in my arms. “Are you okay?”

The warmth of her body pressed against me. She didn’t move at first, then her arms came up and hugged me. “Why the hell am I wearing a pink sweatshirt?” she asked.

I laughed into her hair and kissed the top of her head. Pulling back, I held her face. “Are you back?”

Her eyes went wide as she focused on me, then looked over my shoulder as Briallen arrived. “I’m fine.”

“What happened? Is Nigel all right?” Briallen asked.

Something in her voice—something horrified or angry—made me turn. The door to the sanctum was closed—not only closed but fused shut—the door and its frame one seamless whole. The circular stone had been burned white from essence discharge, a dark spot in the center where the bolt had struck.

Meryl’s face pinched in anger. “Screw him. He tried to kill me.”