Chapter 33

The shuffling of bodies was all around me. I could back out, the way I'd came in, but then what? I still needed to speak with Vesuvius.

Fear raced through me. It was so dark; I couldn't even look for a place to hide. What I needed was a way to see, and fast.

Warmth seeped through my leg, and I looked down to see the wand in my pocket glowing with a soft white light. That would do it. Apparently my desire for light was enough for the wand to react. Good to note it was picking up my intent.

I didn't dare touch it still, but it did light the room for me some.

Coffins were all over the room, the lids closed. All except for one, which was wide open. I stared at it.

Maybe it was empty?

I hurried toward the open coffin and found myself staring into Richart's face. He blinked up at me. "What are you?—?"

"I think I should hide from your friends before they wake up," I whispered at double speed. "So you let me in your coffin, just don't lock the lid."

"The lids don't lock, that's ridiculous," he muttered and yawned. Like he had all the time in the damn world. And then his eyes popped wide. "Mon Dieu! What are you?—?"

I grabbed his arm and all but yanked him out of his coffin. "I have a way to stop everything. I need to speak to the ghost who lives here. The one you didn't get rid of. Now move before your friends wake up because most of them agree with the psycho running the show!" Again, all in rapid time as I climbed in where he'd lain.

Richart spluttered, but I ignored him and pulled the lid down. Praying to whatever gods would listen that the other vampires wouldn't find me.

I breathed as quietly as I could, knowing that my heart was thumping hard.

"Richart, who have you got in your coffin? You don't usually have friends visit."

Laughter followed. A string of French I didn't understand from Richart. Then more laughter. I swallowed hard. Kept my mouth shut.

Waited. The lid finally opened, and I stared up into Richart's face. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now. That would solve everything."

I sat up and Richart stepped back, giving me room. "The spell was never about vampires." I quickly filled him in on the way the spell had been cast incorrectly. How it would tear at the fabric between our realm and the demons. How that would be a very bad thing for all of us.

"Mon dieu," he said again, leaning back. "I don't want to believe you."

"But?"

"I cannot deny the sense it makes. I saw the first wave, the one that Joseph created with Evangeline. It was a mess. And Evangeline's power has never made sense to me. Her control over others was too much. Vesuvius…I have seen him here. I know his name. I know he was a mage. It all fits. Is there any way to be sure?"

I nodded. "Her sister…she's dead, but she confirmed it all."

I realized as I sat there that I could still sense the dead. Like I'd flipped a switch on, and it had stayed on with a steady hum.

"Now what?"

"I need to speak to Vesuvius. You…you can hear him too? Then you will know what I know," I said, thinking that at least if something happened to me, Richart might be able to do something to stop Evangeline. Or at least he would know the truth and be able to tell the others. It seemed he had the same thought.

"That is a good idea. Call him, you have that power in you."

I took a deep breath and centered myself. Here we go. Time to talk to the dead guy.

"Vesuvius," I whispered his name. "I hear you would speak with me. I…don't think I should come further if I don't have to, and if you can come to my voice, it would be great if you would come down here. Really stellar."

The shadows shimmered around us, and a moment later a figure appeared in front of me.

"Lady of the Dead, Sentinel of the Living…it has been a long time that I have waited for you to arrive."

I grimaced. "Sorry about that. Been a busy week. How come you didn't come to see me when I was in the dungeon?"

Richart cleared his throat. "Evangeline knew Vesuvius might try to speak to you. She had Remy block him from entering the dungeon."

I stared at Vesuvius. He was dressed in long robes, had a long gray beard, and might have been mistaken for Gandalf. Or maybe that other gray-bearded mentor to a young wizard. Fumblebutt or whatever his name was.

"I needed to know…if you were the one," Vesuvius said, his voice a low bass that rumbled in the air. "I needed to know if you were worthy. I saw that you were willing to die. I saw that you were willing to fight. Both are needed to stop what your family has started all those years ago."

I felt Richart shoot a look at me, but I kept my eyes on the ghost. "Tell me what I have to do. Alan and Phillipa, they both said you have knowledge of the spell. How is that?"

He shrugged. "Because I created it."

Richart sucked in a sharp breath. "That is why Evangeline does not want you around—you truly know the very start of the spell."

"Exactly," Vesuvius said. "And why I never spoke of this is because of the curse she laid on me. I can speak the truth of the spell only once. It was put out into the world, incorrectly, by her demon. I've been haunted by the knowledge that it would eventually fall to the wrong hands and be used to free the demons and destroy our world."

I kept a hand pressed to my chest. "You truly made the spell."

He smiled. "I did. And now I will tell you how to cast it correctly. As you already understand, it never had a thing to do with vampires. Not one thing. The words were misconstrued over and over again. On purpose. Speak it now, not for casting it, but so that I know you have it correct. Your intent is to practice the words."

I nodded and spoke the words softly, just in case there was someone else listening.

"Of demon skin and angel wing

Of stolen cross and healing spring

Blood of a ghost, and an unmarked grave

Soul of a witch, and a siren's cave.

Bound swiftly neath the darkest night

Those of the blood shall have their sight

Of death and power, of magic and pain

That which comes shall find those slain

Raised anew and given life

A warning once, this call is strife

One last line to lock this spell

A soul whose blood has tasted hell.

Thus shall the ambrosia be brewed and given life to death."

"That line," Richart said, "In the middle. Those of the blood shall have their sight. That is referring to a vampire."

Vesuvius took a swat at Richart. "Not the way those fools are taking it. So you would have your sight? What does that have to do with a vampire army? Anything? No. Everyone is trying to make the spell what they'd like it to be, to change the intent, and the truth is…"

He slumped and I thought we'd lost him. Straightening slowly, he turned to face me again.

"Will you accept this gift I offer you? A way to stop it all, the truth from the beginning?"

A gift. An offering. I found myself looking at Richart, feeling like maybe he was here for a reason too. "Will you help me?"

He nodded slowly. "You have my oath to help you succeed in this task."

Vesuvius nodded and held his hand out to me. "Take my hand, and you will see how the spell is cast. How it always should have been cast."

I held out my hand and pressed my palm to his. Richart did the same on the other side of Vesuvius.

And just like that, the spell spooled out in front of my eyes, like watching a child's picture book come to life, every image showing me exactly what items we should have gathered, what words needed to be said. The items were almost all correct, that much was good.

All except one. I gaped at the image in my head. "Is it even possible?"

Vesuvius let my hand go. "It is. But only by very few people. People like you, Lady of the Night. Sentinel of the Living. You must return to where the spell was started. Where you took the first ingredient into your body. I have given you this gift, and so my curse has been lifted. I fare thee well."

"Wait!" I reached for him. "What if…what if I screw it up?"

"You'd best hope for all those you love that you do not, in fact, screw it up."