Rise of Souls

  She stepped off the path, making her way through the tall grass toward the rocky beach below. When she stepped onto the sand, she turned around in a circle, looking for Fenris as the wind blew her robe and hair this way and that. She pulled a strand away from her face, peering into the shadows.

  Was there someone there? The silhouette of a figure, hiding in the shadows cast by the big rocks at the bottom of the cliff?

  “Hello? Fenris?” she called out, her heart beating swiftly in her chest. “Is that you?”

  The figure moved, taking three long strides toward her in a decidedly aggressive approach that forced the blood to move more quickly through her veins as her body prepared to fight or run.

  “And here I thought I was the only one with whom you were engaging in late-night rendezvous,” Fenris said, a wicked smile playing on his face as he stepped into the moonlight. “Clearly, there is more than one possible suitor lurking on the island.”

  She slugged his shoulder, not bothering to be careful. “Ugh! How could you? You scared me half to death!”

  He rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. “I was only being playful.” He reached down, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her so close she could smell the cloves on his breath. “I thought you liked playful.”

  She sucked in her breath, forcing her mind to clear, to come out of the fog induced by his nearness.

  This was Fenris, after all.

  “I do,” she said, “when I’m not fearing for my life.”

  He leaned closer. “There is nothing to fear here, Una,” he said softly.

  She wondered if she was imagining the tenderness in his voice. Tenderness was not one of Fenris’s aims except where it would gain him favor with whichever Sister he happened to be wooing this week. That he had been wooing her considerably longer, that she had heard no tales of his exploits with the young Sisters of the island in some time, did little to lower her guard. She had no intention of treating Fenris as more than an entertaining distraction. To do so would be the worst kind of denial, regardless of his assertions to the contrary.

  “Of course there isn’t,” she said, lifting her chin. “Now that I know it’s you, I’m not afraid at all.”

  He chuckled, and the vibration of it rang against her chest, sending tendrils of desire across her skin, bare beneath her robe.

  “I wish I could say I am surprised.” He lowered his head, his lips only inches from hers, his green eyes flashing with desire. “But I would expect nothing else from you, Una Whelan.”

  She braced herself against his kiss, reminding herself that time spent with Fenris could only be for the pleasure of his company. No attachments. No expectations. It was the only way to protect the carefully walled fortress of her heart against a blackguard like him, someone who would break down the walls only to pillage the village and flee with its riches without so much as a glance behind him.

  His lips had just touched hers, the familiar heat spreading like brushfire through her veins, when she heard the cry near the rocks.

  She pulled back. “What was that?”

  Fenris was still looking at her like a wolf preparing to devour its prey. “What was what?” he asked distractedly.

  Una heard the muffled cry again, and all at once, Fenris’s body snapped to attention, shoulders straightening, body poised for action as he scanned the beach. He turned around, shielding her with his body.

  “Who is it?” he called out. “Who’s there?”

  Silence. And then, a rasp and a cough from the rocks to their right.

  Fenris turned to look at Una. “Stay here.”

  She was quick on his heels as he made for the water.

  He stopped, looking back at her. “I thought I told you to stay.”

  “And I thought you knew I’m not a pet to be ordered to and fro,” she snapped.

  His eyes were conflicted, his gaze torn from her to the sound of another cough near the water. Finally, he sighed, moving forward without another word, the desire to find out who lurked in the shadows greater than his need to argue the point.

  She stayed near his side, her eyes combing the beach, instinct on high alert to possible danger, though she could not have said what she feared. As they approached the waterline, she heard a whimper, closer now, and she followed the sound to a craggy boulder near the base of the cliff.

  Someone was there, sprawled out in the sand, the water rushing over the person’s lower body each time a wave came in, revealing more each time it went back out to sea.

  Una rushed forward. “Here!” she called to Fenris.

  He came to her side, and they half dragged, half carried the person to dry sand. It was a woman, her dark hair fanned out like ropes of seaweed around her head.

  “We have to turn her over,” Una said, grabbing hold of the woman’s side. “Help me!”

  They turned her onto her back, and Una saw that it wasn’t a woman at all, not a full-grown one, anyway. Her face was ghostly white, her lips a pale blue. She could not have been more than seventeen years old.

  Una’s gaze swept over the girl’s body, taking in the sandals on her feet, the robe, its violet silk stained dark purple with seawater. She looked vaguely familiar, and Una thought she had been steering the ferry when Una had met her brother, Gareth, at the pier the last time he had come to Altus.

  Una raised her eyes to Fenris. “She’s a Sister!” she cried. “A guide, I think.”

  “What is she doing in the water?” Fenris asked.

  Una shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Fenris tipped the girl onto her side. She sputtered, a cough sounding from the depths of her lungs, water spraying the sand at her side.

  “That’s right,” Fenris said. “Cough. Get it all out.”

  The girl let out a string of wet hacks, as if Fenris’s instructions had given her the permission she needed to rid her body of seawater.

  Una pulled the girl’s hair back, already thinking ahead, to the time when they would need help. When they would need to get the girl to the Sanctuary and warm her with blankets to stave off hypothermia.

  But the girl surprised her by slapping Fenris’s arms away from her own. “Stop,” she heaved, rolling onto her back. “You must tell them.”

  Una shook her head, wondering if she had heard the girl correctly. “Tell who?” she asked. “What?”

  The girl grabbed Una’s hand, her eyes, haunted and sunken, burning as with fever. “Lady Amalia, the Sisters…the Brothers…all of them,” she rasped.

  “She’s delirious,” Fenris said. “In shock. We need to get her back to the Sanctuary.”

  “Listen!” The girl’s voice came out in a hoarse shout. “You have to warn everyone. They’re coming!”

  Una leaned down, bringing her face close to the girl’s. “Who is coming?”

  “The Souls,” the girl said, her head dropping back to the sand. “Samael’s Guard.”

  Una ran as fast as her feet would carry her. At first, she had made the argument that Fenris should be the one to warn the others. He was undoubtedly faster.

  But Fenris had argued that without his help, Una would not be able to get the girl off the beach to safety. It made more sense that he carry the girl to the infirmary while Una ran ahead. She would tell the Lady of Altus and Brother Dimitri, and they would issue the orders thereafter. “When the warning has been sounded,” Fenris said, looking into her eyes with an expression she had never seen before, one she could not define, “meet me in the gazebo on the hill.”

  She hesitated, wishing there were more time. Time to say that she was worried for him. That, despite the casual nature of their affair, she would not like anything to happen to him. That perhaps he was more important to her than she had allowed herself to believe.

  She turned to go and was stopped by his hand on her arm.

  “Una?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay off the path,” he said. “And be vigilant. If what she says is true, they could be all over the island
by now.”

  A knot of dread formed in the pit of her stomach as she nodded. Then she ran.

  She hurried away from the beach, staying off the path, as Fenris had instructed. The boulders that dotted the hill stood like faceless guardians in the early morning light. She maneuvered around them as quickly as she could, all the while watching for movement around her, half expecting the Guard to appear at any moment.

  She was out of breath when she reached the top, and she paused to survey the path leading to the Sanctuary and the other main buildings that housed the Sisterhood, the Grigori, and their business. It was empty, the torches not yet extinguished. She wondered what time it was, if the torches were normally extinguished by now or if the Souls had already breached the compound.

  But no. Had the Souls made their presence known, the island would not be a vision of quietude but one of chaos. Which meant she was not too late.

  She took off at a run, staying to the shadows at the side of the path. Her sandals slapped noisily against her feet. Finally, she stopped to remove them, casting them aside before continuing toward the Sanctuary.

  The ground was cool. She only dimly registered the rocks biting into the soles of her feet. She pictured Brennus and Connall, bodies nestled together in the cradle, eyes closed, tiny arms flung out at their sides. She had to get to them. Had to warn Lia and Dimitri. If what the girl said was true, the island would soon be under attack—was under attack already, though the serenity of the grounds seemed to defy the possibility.

  And that was not all that defied it. Logic itself refuted it. The Gate was closed. Lia had closed it herself with the sacrifice of her sister, Alice. Samael would never reunite with those Souls who had been amassing for centuries in the physical world, awaiting his leadership.

  Yet…what of the Souls who had been abandoned in the physical world? The ones who had crossed through previous Gates, appropriating the bodies of mortal men? Would they slink into the shadows? Sample the pleasure of this world only to die without flourish, like simple men?

  Or was this an overthrow of their own? An attempt to take what Samael had promised them, though the archdemon himself would be trapped forever in the Otherworlds?

  It was a question that had long nagged her. At first, she had assumed security procedures would remain the same on the island. That guards would still be posted at celebrations and guides would continue to ferry only those visitors who had been vetted at the highest levels of the Sisterhood.

  But little by little, the people of Altus had begun to feel safe. Guards were more likely to participate in celebrations than stand watch over them. Guides were given orders to ferry visitors by any number of people in the Grigori, the Sisterhood, even some of the higher-ranking Brothers.

  And the guides complied, for who would seek passage to a mystical island shrouded in fog? One that sat between the physical world and the others, unknown to virtually every mortal alive? One that had little to offer in the way of mortal riches?

  One day, Una had found the courage to voice her concern to Dimitri. Lia had been visiting with Louisa, who had come to spend the warm summer months on the island. Una had been in Lia’s working chambers, sorting her correspondence, the question of the Souls and the possibility of their ongoing threat weighing heavily on her mind as Lia and Louisa wandered the island alone and without protection.

  Dimitri had come in, shuffling through some of the papers on Lia’s desk, looking for a requisition made by the stable master.

  Una had bit her lip, trying to summon her courage, before speaking.

  “Brother Markov?”

  “Hmm?” He was distracted, his attention on the stack of papers in his hand.

  “Do…do you think…” She had not figured out how to phrase the question in advance. Now she was worried that it would sound challenging, disrespectful.

  Dimitri looked up at her. “What is it, Una?”

  “Well…I was simply wondering if it’s truly safe for Lady Amalia to walk the grounds unattended. If the danger has well and truly passed.”

  His eyes darkened, his body coiled for action, as if he might race after Lia that very second. “Is there a threat at hand? Something you have not reported?”

  She shook her head. “No, no. Nothing like that. I was just thinking about…about the Souls.” She did not like to say it out loud. They had grown to nearly mystical proportions to all who lived on the island.

  Dimitri’s expression softened. “The Gate is closed, Una.”

  “I know. But what about…Well, what about the Souls who had already crossed? The ones already in the physical world?”

  “They have no leader,” he said simply, turning his attention back to the papers in his hand.

  “And they cannot bring harm to us without one?” she asked, growing braver with Dimitri’s calm acceptance of her questions.

  “That would seem unlikely,” Brother Markov said. “They are not sentient. Not in the way one would need to plan an attack on the island.”

  Una bit her lip, hesitant to push the issue further but knowing it was now or never. “And we know this? For certain?”

  “Why else would they wait for Samael to lead them?” Brother Markov muttered. “If they had been able to launch an overthrow themselves, they likely would have done so, rather than wait thousands of years for Samael’s return.” He looked up then, meeting her eyes as if he had just remembered her presence. “Yes?”

  She considered his words. He was right; the Souls had waited centuries for Samael to cross from the Otherworlds. Either they were very patient or they simply lacked the cognizance to plan an attack of the scale required to overthrow the Sisterhood, the Brothers, the Grigori.

  She had smiled, feeling some sense of relief. She had been paranoid, that was all, her common sense colored by her desire to protect Lia and the island that was her home.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she had said, forcing a laugh. “I’m sorry to be such a ninny.”

  But now, running toward the Sanctuary as the sky slowly turned from indigo to the palest of gray, the rising sun blocked out by the early morning fog, she knew she had been right; the Souls would not be content to live mortal lives.

  They were here to demand the power they had been promised. To take it.

  The realization prompted her to move faster, the Sanctuary growing nearer and nearer. When she finally reached it, she took the steps two at a time, hurrying along the portico until she came to one of the archways that acted as a threshold to the main building.

  She took the corner at a dead run, her robe billowing out behind her as she continued along the hallway. The sconces were still lit, their flame casting flickering shadows along the walls. When she finally reached the door to Lia and Dimitri’s chambers, she hesitated for just a moment, half afraid of what she would find, for wouldn’t the Souls come here first? Wouldn’t an attack be easier without a leader in place to issue commands?

  But there was no time to contemplate the possibilities. She pushed open the door and hurried into the room, crossing to the cradle, her heart in her throat as she waited for the sleeping babies to come into view.

  Time seemed to slow as she peered over the edge, her mind already preparing to see the tiny infants, nestled together as they always were, Brennus fast asleep while Connall gazed about as if he were afraid to miss anything in the name of slumber.

  The cradle was empty, even the blankets gone.

  Una spun around, surveying the room, wondering if the Souls lay in wait, if it might still be possible to stop them from taking the babies.

  But the room was silent. Her gaze fell on the door leading from the nursery room to Lia and Dimitri’s private chamber. It was ajar.

  She looked around, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She was not trained in or accustomed to the art of physical defense, but she would do what she could, sacrificing her own life if necessary, to keep the twins from the Souls.

  There was little to work with save a silver fili
greed letter opener resting on one of the side tables. Una recognized it as one that had belonged to Lady Abigail before her death. Una had used it several times when opening Lia’s correspondence. She didn’t know why it would be in the baby’s room, but perhaps Lia had been trying to work while seeing to her sons.

  Una picked it up, reassured by the weight of it in her hand, and approached the partially open door.

  She stepped carefully across the floor, grateful for the large carpets, woven on Altus and installed to muffle noise both within and without the infants’ room. The wood floors underneath were impeccably maintained, but there was never any guarantee against the creaking of an occasional loose floorboard.

  When she reached the door, she paused, holding very still and listening for noise from within the room. She thought she heard the muffled sound of voices, and she leaned forward, willing her ears to decipher the words.

  It was Lia, that much was certain. Una would know her mistress’s voice anywhere. But she could not make out the words themselves, and she readjusted her grip on the letter opener as she pushed open the door just enough to slip through the crack.

  The room was still dark, the gray light of morning fighting its way through the draperies at the window. A single candle was lit on a table at the far side of the room, a figure splayed out on the bed. She craned her neck for a better view, her heart catching in her throat as she saw that it was Dimitri, facedown atop the coverlet.

  But where were the babies? Where was Lia?

  “Una?” a voice called out softly from the shadows. “Whatever are you doing? Is everything all right?”

  Una’s gaze followed the voice to the rocking chair in the corner. It was Lia, sitting with one of the infants—Connall, probably—at her breast.

  She exhaled a long rush of air. “Lia…where is Brennus?”

  “With Dimitri on the bed,” Lia said. “Brennus went right back to sleep after being fed, but little Connall here is too curious for sleep, as always.”