“Vincent, my darling!” cried Agatha, rushing past the others to embrace the strange figure.
“Agatha, dearest. Good day to you all—I was not expecting so many visitors. I am Vincent Forcier. It’s a pleasure to make your various acquaintances.” The man’s voice was soft, bordering on eerie, yet somehow strangely hypnotic. “Did I hear someone mention a spot of bravado?” he asked, his mouth pulled tight in what Alex presumed was meant to be a smile, but the effect was disconcerting on the man’s unnaturally pale, almost transparent skin, giving him a slightly manic look.
“We need some help finding the Kingstone essence, and Demeter has told us you’d be willing to help,” Alex explained, finding his voice.
“A remarkable task, one that I would be honored to assist with, in any way I can,” Vincent replied. “You don’t mind if I take the lead?” His impossibly large, black eyes, completely devoid of white, surveyed the group.
“Lead the way,” Alex said.
Vincent strode along with assured, knowledgeable footsteps, pointing out rooms to avoid and corridors to keep out of, due to the unsavory characters within. It was like being led by a tour guide, Alex thought wryly.
“It is truly a shame you had to be present for such a thing,” Vincent said quietly. “An awful way to begin—you must all have been so frightened. I know it passes, but still, it’s a terrible thing.”
Alex realized he was talking about the nightmare fog, though it had taken him a moment to tune in, he was so mesmerized by the lilting, soothing cadence of the words upon his tired and aching soul.
“Were it not for the recollection of feeling a little strange, I might never have known it happened. I trust it is the same for you?” Vincent asked the group.
Natalie nodded, clearly as mesmerized as Alex was. “I can hardly remember it now, and I cannot recall what I saw.”
“That is the way of these awful measures Caius has put in place—they last just long enough for us to fear and remember and never want to experience it again. The details don’t remain, but the feeling does, am I right?” Vincent asked, his piercing black eyes staring intensely into Natalie’s.
“That is exactly right. I could not have put it better myself!” she piped up.
“Even the most powerful among us fear the wrath of Caius,” Vincent admitted. “He has an inexhaustible arsenal of tricks, and I’m certain I have experienced a thousand or more in my time here. It’s what keeps us compliant. Fear is a potent weapon, when wielded correctly, and Caius is the greatest marksman I know.”
There was a bitterness to the unnatural man’s words that resonated with Alex, and, looking around, he could see that the rest of the group were just as hooked upon Vincent’s every feeling. Where Demeter’s presence made Alex feel calm, Vincent’s presence had already made him feel a whole spectrum of emotions, in a short span of time.
“What did you do? To land yourselves in prison, I mean,” asked Jari eagerly, his gaze flitting between Agatha and Vincent. It was the question Alex had been too polite to ask.
Vincent smiled his peculiar smile. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing toward Agatha.
She blushed. “Oh, no! You go first, Vincent.”
“Very well,” he acquiesced with a delicate wave of his hand. Every movement he made seemed deliberate and exquisite, like macabre cabaret. “You wish to know my story?”
The group nodded, and Alex found himself nodding too.
“Well, young ones, I am afraid to say I was placed in here for necromancy. As you no doubt know, necromancy is frowned upon among our kind,” he began, his voice like honey.
Unless you’re a noble, Alex thought, remembering what the Head had done to Malachi Grey and had been encouraged to do again with Renmark.
“I admit that I moved in shadows, and I was duly punished for it, although I sought discovery of the darkest arts for a pure purpose. My heart was in the right place, as they say. You see, I am not like other necromancers you may come across, though I hope you never meet another—the other necromancers held within these walls are here for good reason. They are cold and cruel and unnatural and should never be permitted to feel daylight upon their faces again, for the acts they have committed,” he seethed, his dark eyes flashing. He seemed too disgusted to tell them the actual crimes these other necromancers had been imprisoned for, but the emotion lacing Vincent’s voice reinforced the certainty that it was bad beyond words, whatever it was that had led to their incarceration.
“What kind of necromancy did you do?” pressed Jari, his eyes as wide as saucers.
Vincent grinned oddly. “Those are not tales for mortal ears.”
Alex felt disappointed he wasn’t going to hear the nitty-gritty of what had put the strange man behind bars.
“Shall I take it from here, dear heart?” Agatha asked.
Vincent nodded, his thin neck bobbing with unexpected grace. “The floor is yours, dear lady.”
Agatha seemed a little eccentric, but far too nice to be a criminal. Alex couldn’t imagine her committing any misdeed worthy of as harsh a punishment as Kingstone.
“Well, cherubs, I was put in this place many moons ago for the petty crime of theft and the somewhat larger crime of trying to kill a royal… though I didn’t know he was a royal at the time.” She winked. “If I’d known, I’d have tried twice as hard. I’m not even anti-royalist—well, I wasn’t before they put me in here. I sure am now!”
“What did you steal?” asked Ellabell shyly, pushing her spectacles back up onto the bridge of her nose.
“Just the question I was hoping for!” Agatha cried with delight. “I stole a diamond as big as a Thunderbird’s egg—oh, you should have seen it! It was a beauty. I saw it through a window, and it was in this glass box, just sitting there, sparkling away, calling my name, and I couldn’t just walk past it. So, into this great big house I slipped, and I nabbed it, and on the way I ran into some problems, what with alarms and guards and whatnot. That’s where the almost-killing part comes into play. But I held that glorious diamond in my hands for a good hour before they could pry it away from me. I can still feel it now, if I close my eyes and wish hard enough.” Accentuating the point, she squeezed her eyes shut and rounded her palms, as if she were holding an invisible egg. A smile spread across her face. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Impressive.” Ellabell grinned. Alex could see why; it was hard to imagine this old hippie as a jewel thief, no matter how unsuccessful she’d been.
“Oh, you’ve no idea how lovely it is to have some young blood wandering freely about the place, with the blooms still freshly in your cheeks and your whole lives ahead of you. Goodness, what I wouldn’t give to be your age again. The things I got up to!” She cackled mischievously, and Alex could only imagine what this woman had gotten up to at his age. On second thought, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “I say that, but I suppose it can’t be so lovely if you’re in here, can it? It’s devastating when they bring those youngsters through from that fancy-pants school. Terribly sad, the way their minds depart for greener pastures, leaving only the wild-eyed husks behind. Is that why you’re here? I do hope you don’t end up the same way, cherubs. You’re such dear things!”
“These ones are more like guests than prisoners,” Demeter explained. “They’re here purely to make a pit stop while they build a portal home. And, with your assistance, they’re going to be able to do it all the swifter,” he added in a low voice.
Both of Demeter’s friends shared a smile at this news, which made Alex feel even more hopeful as they pressed on, moving deeper and deeper into the keep in search of the essence that would take them home.
Chapter 5
As they walked, it began to dawn on Alex that the keep was far bigger than he had imagined. Taking a quick look out of one of the nearby windows, he could count at least ten other windows descending beneath, but that was only what his eyes could see. The more they mapped out, the more he realized just how vast this pla
ce was.
Passing hallways upon hallways of cells, Alex noticed there was a small vestibule at the end of many of the corridors, and each one had a long, cylindrical contraption attached to the wall. Sometimes it was beside an open window, looking out on the bronze fog; sometimes it was in the center of a solid stretch of masonry. The contraptions themselves were built from pure gold that shone in the torchlight. Alex wondered what purpose they served, thinking that, perhaps, they were some kind of alarm system that alerted the guards when a prisoner escaped. It would certainly explain why they seemed to be at the end of most corridors.
Coming into a space with a dozen or so tunnels stretching out from the central point, they passed another of the large, golden cylinders, clinging to the wall beside a wide, open window that looked out on the many stories below. Alex wanted to pause and take a closer look at the object, but the others had already powered on. He thought about following, but the cylinder called to him. Knowing he would catch up eventually, he placed his beetle beacon down beside the tunnel through which they had passed and walked over to the strange gold object.
The outer shell was embossed with swirling designs, which seemed out of place in the dank misery of the prison. He let his thumb trace over the shapes of flowers and vines. Something sparked against his skin, like an electric shock, and he jerked his hand back. He knew he really shouldn’t be going around and touching random things.
Listening closely, he could hear the sound of something whirring within. There were six small screws along the length of the golden exterior, making Alex think it might be made of clockwork. He was desperate to know its purpose. However, he stopped short of prying off the metal to see what lay hidden inside. If it was important, it would undoubtedly be booby trapped.
Perhaps Vincent or Agatha can shed some light on it. He turned back toward the hallways that led off from the inside courtyard, but as he looked at each one, he realized his beetle had gone—leaving him with no idea which one the others had disappeared down. They all looked so similar.
Cursing under his breath, he tried to wrack his brain, hoping it would remember which path his friends had taken. He thought the third hallway seemed the most familiar, so, deciding to chance it, he walked toward it.
As he stepped over the threshold, he saw something twinkling just ahead, tucked into the bottom of either wall. It looked familiar, somehow…
He realized too late that it reminded him of the mechanical triggers that had been used at Stillwater House. A great blast of raw magical energy came rushing out of the darkness toward him. It hit him like a blockade, knocking him off his feet and sending him hurtling backward, away from the third tunnel and through the wide, open window.
“ALEX!” he heard Ellabell’s scream as he went soaring over the ledge, catching a glimpse of her and the others appearing in the doorway of the sixth tunnel as he went over.
Six, not three. He cursed himself as solid ground disappeared.
Before he knew it, he was falling, unable to do anything to stop himself. He was aware of only three things: Ellabell’s terrified blue eyes looking down from above, the increasing speed of his descent, and the thought of the ground rising up to meet him. The latter contemplation caused his whole body to tense up, in preparation for the impact. As he rushed to meet his fate, he kept his gaze firmly on Ellabell, who grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He realized he wouldn’t mind if she was the last thing he saw on this earth, but he was too young to die. There were so many things he hadn’t done, and this was going to hurt so much.
He had almost forgotten about the moat, but the cold, icy impact of the water all around him reminded him of it immediately, as he hit the surface with crushing force. It pushed the air out of his lungs, and it felt more like he had slammed into concrete than liquid. He sank beneath the surface, feeling the water close over his face as he descended into the murk. Everything hurt, but the realization dawned on him that he was not, in fact, dead.
Feeling his muscles twinge, he kicked his legs and dragged his arms through the freezing water, pulling himself back up toward the beacon of light that signaled the moat’s surface. With a gasp and a splash, he emerged, grateful to be alive, with all of his limbs in apparent working order. He heaved in great gulps of air, and though the cold temperature of the water was biting, he had never been more grateful to feel such an intense chill.
With chattering teeth, he swam toward the muddy bank, climbing it awkwardly as his fingers clawed at the slick surface for purchase. He managed to haul himself onto the grassy lip of the bank, a short distance from where the bronze fog began. He didn’t dare to think what might happen if he crossed it, and, though he was curious about whether he could simply pass through it with his anti-magic, he didn’t feel like pushing his luck after what had just happened. Sitting on the edge of the bank, gathering his thoughts, his heart racing, he found himself staring out toward the moat.
It was the first time he had seen the moat close up, and the sight disturbed him. The water was a murky black, as far from natural-looking as it was possible to be, so thick and opaque it almost looked like oil. Not to mention the fact that it absolutely stank; he could smell it on his skin already, reeking of all things rotten and festering. The stench made him gag, but since he was drenched in the stuff, he wasn’t sure how he was going to evade the smell.
Looking back up toward the window he had fallen from, he saw that Agatha and Ellabell were still peering over.
“Are you okay?” Ellabell yelled, the words barely audible to Alex’s ears.
“I think so!” Alex shouted back.
“We’re trying to find a rope long enough—Vincent says we can’t conjure one in case it sets off the fog!” Ellabell replied. “Hold on, we’re ransacking rooms for bedsheets!”
“Quite right—if we set off the barrier, you’ll be stuck down there!” Agatha cackled. “Now, don’t get too close to the water. You don’t want to slip back in!” she added, while Ellabell disappeared from sight.
“Okay… I’m, uh, not exactly going anywhere,” Alex called back. He guessed it made sense that they couldn’t simply conjure a magical rope. If mages could just dangle magic ropes out and climb down them without repercussion, Caius would have needed to reassess his security measures. Plus, Alex doubted he’d be able to keep hold of a magical one anyway, given the way his anti-magic was prone to attacking magic.
Suddenly, something slithered beneath the dark water, rippling the viscous surface. Alex jumped to his feet and stepped back, seeing the flash of something moving beneath the black water. Whatever was living under there, it was big, and he was almost certain there was more than one. A splash a short distance away confirmed his chilling suspicions.
The next thing he knew, something was lunging toward him from the moat. Alex toppled backward, losing his footing on the wet grass. A huge black creature that looked part snake, part lizard surged from the black liquid, darting toward Alex at alarming speed, its amphibian nostrils flaring. It paused, sniffing the air, seeking something out.
Lying flat in the grass, feeling the blades tickling the back of his neck, Alex kept entirely still, hoping the creature wouldn’t see him. It lurched over him, giving him a closer look than he would have liked. Where eyes should have been, there were none—the beast was blind. With water that thick and black, Alex supposed eyesight wouldn’t make much difference. The beast’s head was horribly oversized, with two strange, three-pronged fronds above where eye sockets would be that twitched as the creature sniffed more insistently. The body was long and sleek, as it had seemed beneath the water, though the black color changed to a lighter, gunmetal gray when it turned its body this way and that. Alex wondered if it was camouflage of some sort—in between the coursing panic that the beast was about to make a meal out of him and the desperation to keep himself still and silent.
The monster curved too close for comfort, the dank scent of swamp and rotting meat making Alex gag as droplets of black water dripped from the slimy
body onto his face. But he stayed still, not daring to move.
With a few final snorts, the beast slunk back into the water with a barely audible splash. Whatever it had been sniffing for, Alex guessed he wasn’t it.
Though he wanted to run from the moat’s edge, he waited a moment longer, just in case the creature decided to rear its ugly head again. Once he was confident it was gone, Alex sat up in the grass, wondering what the thing had been smelling for. Magic, perhaps? It would explain why it had left him alone, he mused, contemplating its presence in the moat. Was it just another deterrent to escape, the fear of climbing down the walls only to meet a grisly end down the throat of a giant amphibian? Alex shuddered to think.
Not wanting to get too close to the water’s edge again, he waited patiently for the makeshift rope to be lowered, though he realized with some trepidation that he was going to have to get into the moat again in order to reach the proffered mode of rescue.
As he looked up, he saw that Agatha was still peering out over the window ledge. It was hard to make out at this distance, but there was something odd in the way she was surveying him. Her head was tilted in contemplation, her mouth set in a grim line, but Alex couldn’t be sure how much was simply his own imagination as he turned back to watch the surface of the moat, praying no more beasts came out to attack him.
“Alex, we’re lowering the rope!” Ellabell called, reappearing at the window. It was a sight he was happy to see, now that he knew it wasn’t going to be the last thing he saw. Well, as long as a beast didn’t get him on his way out.
Finally, a rope made of countless bedsheets was lowered from the window. It seemed to take forever, and Alex waited with as much patience as he could muster, until the very tip of the last sheet dipped into the murky black water. Taking that as his signal to move, he dove into the icy moat, swimming for the bottom of the rope.