Chapter 15

15

S pencer

I’m perched on the smallest piece of wood known to man, clinging on for dear life as the thing vibrates and shakes beneath me. I swear any minute the thing is going to fling me off. It’s the most fucking uncomfortable method of transport I’ve ever experienced, certainly not designed for big people like me.

Rhi on the other hand, she’s loving it, whooping and squealing as she glides through the air, her long dark hair streaming out behind her, her eyes bright with excitement and her cheeks all flushed.

That crazy motherfucker Barone seems equally at home, turning somersaults and doing loop-de-loops even though he’s carrying the pig and it earns him a lecture from Rhi every time.

I take my right hand from the handle, the broom wobbling violently beneath me, and swipe the sweat quickly from my eyes, before clutching the wood in both hands again. Then I squint into the distance. Not that I can see a thing. We’re flying above the cloud layer so we can’t be seen from below. It worked a treat when we left the mansion. Kennedy’s men had only just spotted us before we plunged into the wet mist of the clouds and they’d lost us. Sure, they’d fired at us anyway. One bolt sailing mighty close below my feet, but we got away nonetheless and have been flying for four hours straight now.

“How about a break?” I yell at the man in black. My fucking backside is beginning to cramp and I swear my palms are blistering.

“No point,” he yells back, “we’ll be there in another twenty minutes.”

I shake my head in disbelief, regretting the action almost immediately as the broom teeters to one side.

“Fuck.” We must be traveling at some fucking speed. No wonder my face feels like it’s been stretched to twice its size. I work my jaw and soon Azlan is signaling for us to stop. We hover above the clouds, the moisture catching the rays of sunshine and painting fine rainbows beneath our feet.

“The convent is somewhere beneath us,” Azlan says. “I’m going to descend and see where exactly we are, check out what I can see.”

“No.” Rhi shakes her head, her broom somehow remaining perfectly still even with that motion. “You’re gigantic, Azlan. Someone will notice you swooping about in the sky – you look more like a flying gorilla than a bird.”

“Thanks,” he says, flatly.

“I’ll go,” she continues, “I’m less noticeable and besides, I have my cloaker.” She points to the locket hanging around her neck. “No one will see me. ”

She doesn’t wait for any one of us to argue. Instead, she dives straight through the cloud, disappearing into its misty depths and then it’s the five of us, looking like the biggest bunch of dorks on earth.

“I fucking hate this thing,” I say as the broom begins to vibrate, rattling my bones and making the beast inside me growl.

“Really, man?” Barone says, sitting with his arms folded over his chest, not holding the broom at all. “I fucking love it.”

“I just want to get my feet on solid ground,” I hiss, wrestling with the handle again.

Rhi soars back through the cloud, her face covered in a fine layer of moisture. She licks her lips and dries her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.

“We’re right above the beach,” she says, “the convent’s some distance away across the sea and on the isle. I can’t see anyone obviously on the lookout. I think we’re safe to go down and land on the isle.”

“Land on the isle?” Stone shakes his head. “The only way into the convent is via the water, there’s a passageway that leads right into the heart of the building.”

“Okay, let’s head down to the beach then,” Rhi says.

Once again, she doesn’t wait for a response, dipping down into the cloud and forcing us all to follow.

As soon as my feet touch the soft sand, I fling the broom away and nearly drop to my knees, tempted to kiss the damp ground. If I can help it, I’m never ever flying on one of those damn ridiculous things again.

Behind us the sea crashes onto the shore, the roar loud in our ears, and a thick mist hovers above the water. In the distance we see the craggy isle, emerging from the shifting fog and the outline of the convent built into the gray rock.

Stone’s right. There’s no obvious place to land. And the convent windows, all long narrow slots carved into the stone, are too narrow to fly through.

“Any ideas?” Stone asks.

“A boat?” Barone suggests.

“Great idea, genius,” Stone scoffs, “but where do you intend to get one of those?”

“Over there?” the assassin says, pointing up the beach where the sand is dry and tall spindly weeds are determined to claim the land. Huddled among them is an old wooden rowing boat.

“It probably has a hole,” Stone mutters, but Rhi’s already striding that way, peering into its hull.

“Looks good to me,” she says, pulling the rope tied to its bow from the sand and beginning to tug on it. We all rush to help her, each taking a grip of the rope and heaving the boat over the sand and down towards the shore. The boat bobs as it hits the waves, salty spray slapping our faces and the cold water making my legs ache. The waves become higher, thrashing ferociously around us as we plow further into the depths and soon my clothes are soaked through and my teeth chattering.

“Get in the boat!” someone yells as another wave crashes over my head and then we’re all scrabbling inside, the thing rocking violently and threatening to throw us out.

We use our magic to propel the boat forward, eyes stinging with salt, boat rocking up over the waves and slapping back down. For a moment I think we’ll never make it past the surf but somehow we do and then we’re floating in flat water, a freezing mist crawling in around us.

“Keep your magic active and alert,” Tristan says, waving his hand through the impenetrable fog. “There are things out here, I can feel it. ”

I peer into the gloomy depths of the mist. A few weeks ago I’d have laughed at such bullshit. I never believed the tales of spirits and ghouls lurking about in forests and other supposedly haunted places. But then, I also didn’t believe in dragons. I certainly thought they no longer existed. Now I’m prepared to give anything the benefit of the doubt.

As we sail deeper into the mist, the temperature seems to drop by several degrees and it was already a cold day. We use our magic to dry our clothes out but Rhi still shivers and we all pull our coats more firmly around our bodies, Barone lifting the collar of his leather jacket.

The sea is a lifeless gray color, the seabed lost within its depths and the water remains still and calm around us, despite the constant roar of the waves on the shore.

The mist becomes denser as we drive the boat further, so dense I struggle to see Stone sitting right in front of me or Barone behind me. I can hear his heavy breath though, the slight wheeze in his throat, plus the splash of the boat as it cuts through the water, until the density of the fog seems to swallow all the sound, muffling it completely and the darkness is so oppressive, all the color leeches from the place. No ghouls though. No spirits. Although, I swear I can feel the crackling of something dark and magical just out of sight, watching us, observing us.

I let my own magic flow strongly through my body, bold and aggressive, challenging whatever’s out there, and maybe it is that that holds it at bay, keeps it away.

I start to relax.

I should know better. Hasn’t dueling taught me that? You can never fucking relax. That’s when you’re at your weakest. That’s when they come for you.

The boat slows .

“You hear that?” Tristan asks from the front of the boat and we all strain our ears.

It’s that whistling sound, that wheeze in Renzo’s lungs. Except it isn’t in his lungs. It’s somewhere else in among the mists, whining, pleading. I strain my ears even harder, because I swear, goddamn I swear, it sounds just like … just like …

“Aunt?” Rhi calls out.

But it wasn’t. I swear it was my brother. Calling to me. Begging me to come play. Like we used to. Racing through the trees, chasing one another, rolling around in the dirt.

It can’t be real. It can’t be. And yet, it sounds like him, just like him, so much so that the breath catches in my lungs and my magic wanes, fades.

My brother’s isn’t the only voice I hear. I hear my Maman’s voice too and my Papa’s and the were’s, Jacob, from that cell. I see their faces peering at me from under the surface of the water. Their eyes filled with sadness, and the mist crowds around me, closer and closer like the walls of that cell. The memory of all that pain returning to my body.

“Spence!” my brother calls out.

And then he’s there right beneath the surface, the water rippling and distorting his perfect face. But he’s there. Right there, reaching up towards me, promising to save me.

All I have to do is take his hand.