Hoarfrost (Whyborne & Griffin Book 6) (20 page)

Griffin

The
basement was familiar. Chicago.

Far from
the accursed sun, but still in pain. Hurting; afraid. Alone, so
alone—hatched alone, grown alone, save for the cruel things, the monsters
whose words burned and broke and bound. Life was nothing but agony and fear,
and sometimes food.

Not fed
in too long, hungry, so hungry.

When the
compulsion awoke,
guard this place
, I barely even minded the pain. At
last there would be something to eat, something to soothe, just for a moment.

The creature
came into the room. It was shaped like the cruel things, the ones that hurt me,
making this all the sweeter. The hunger surged, and I grasped the creature as
it screamed, feeding on blood and flesh. Another came and began to scream also.
I reached out for it, touched it. But I was too weak from long starvation to
drag it to me, and it pulled free. I cried out my hunger and pain and
loneliness, and it screamed and screamed and ran, and left me alone again.

~ * ~

I
awakened from long dormancy, my only refuge against the crushing loneliness of
existence. The words cut into me, pulled at me like fishing hooks sunk into my
body. The creature on the other end of the line tormented me with them, tugging
and tearing, so I hunted it, knowing the pain wouldn’t end until it died.
Others were with it, would feed my starveling self, but the one bound to me had
to die first, to end the pain.

Almost I
caught it, but it escaped into the sun, an even greater agony. I howled my fear
and fury and torment, then lay in the shadows and waited. Hours and hours, and
the threads connecting me with the creature hurt and hurt and hurt, worse the
farther away it went. I had to catch it, to stop it, to end my torment.

Finally
sundown, and I could leave, the cool desert unfolding beneath my wings. Life
was agony and loneliness and torment, but if I killed this creature, the
anguish would become less acute. I would sleep again, beneath the pyramid, and
for a while be free of pain.

~ * ~

Grief,
grief for the children, how terribly they had suffered. Raised alone,
tormented, mutilated, broken and bent. My heart shattered, and tears mixed with
the blood on my face. A creature cried out a name—Griffin—but I
didn’t recognize it.

Had they
come with the thieves? The ones who stole my daughter?

Thanks
to what I saw in this one’s mind, I knew what they would do with her. They
would torture her endlessly, force her into a shape she’d never been meant to
take, her mind broken from isolation and pain. Hatred boiled through me, and my
attention shifted to the other two creatures, the ones who dared breach the
nursery. They huddled at the end of a collapsed passage, and I looked out
through a soldier’s eye as she closed on them. One was our kin from the sea, whom
the children had thought an ally.

We had
been fooled.

The
ketoi clutched the other creature to it, eyes wide and staring in the dark,
hood thrown back to reveal spiky hair and a face gone pale with terror,
and—

“No!” I
screamed. “Stop! Please! Don’t, I beg you, please don’t!”

The
soldier stopped.

My heart
thumped in my chest. Voices—Jack and Iskander—shouted a name. My
name.

Griffin.

“What’s
happening?” I asked through cracked lips. “Who are you?”

I felt
as though something vast hovered just above me, watching.
“The masters
called me the Mother of Shadows.”

“Masters?”
I asked, dimly aware of Iskander and Jack exchanging baffled looks.

“Griffin,”
Jack said. “It’s me. Your brother.”

I closed
my eyes and tried to focus on the voice inside my head. The voice I’d been
hearing for days now, even if she hadn’t been aware of me. With my eyes shut, I
could see Christine and Whyborne, huddled together and staring blindly into the
darkness. Waiting for the soldier they must know was there to finish them off.

How
could I have heard her? Why did I hear her now?

“You
have touched the minds of my kind twice.”

The
umbra in the basement beneath Chicago, which killed Glenn so horribly. Had I
just seen its suffering? But how could I have known its thoughts?

“It
called out to you, as all my kind do. This is how we speak, mind to mind. The
only voice we have.”

No
wonder I’d run screaming through the streets once I escaped. Howled and
shrieked at the hospital, until they shut me away in the asylum with the other
lunatics. It left an imprint of its own suffering on me, even if I hadn’t
understood at the time.

No. The
umbra killed my partner, my best friend. It was a monster; it didn’t have any
concept of suffering. It hurt others—it didn’t hurt itself.

Memories
bloomed, drawn out by the thing in my head. The Occultum Lapidem beneath the
lightless pyramid. I’d looked into the damned thing and found myself bound to
the daemon of the night, an ancient umbra grown to monstrous proportions. It
followed me, would have tracked me to the ends of the earth.

Of
course it would have. Because that was the only way to end the pain, the
sensation of cruel hooks in its body, reeling it along in my wake like a fish
on a line.

Just as
I’d seen in the dreams that had haunted me ever since.

“No!” I
shouted. Then rolled over and emptied my stomach. Someone touched
me—Jack, I thought—stroking my brow and saying it would be all
right in a terrified voice.

But it
wouldn’t be all right. I clung to the memory of terror. The daemon of the night
had chased us beneath the pyramid, would have stripped us all to the bone. I
forced myself to relive the moment of utter, heart-stopping terror when it
appeared out of the darkness later, born on vast wings. The screams of Iskander’s
kin as they died trying to stop it. Running from it, Christine refusing to leave
my side, certain we were both about to die horribly. Then the thunderclap, and
Whyborne amidst the exploded jelly of its remains, covered in blood and dying.

A
mindless force of nature, acting according to the commands of ancient sorcerers
long dead, I could accept. A cruel horror, whose kind took Glenn from me,
justly struck down by the lightning Whyborne tore from the heavens—even
better, because at least I’d had some sort of indirect revenge.

But it
wasn’t
a victim. The thing that melted Glenn’s face from the very bones of his skull
couldn’t have been driven and twisted by the pain inflicted on it by others.
This creature, this Mother of Shadows, had put the idea into my head, but it
was a lie. It had to be a lie.

This
grief flooding me, this frantic fear for a stolen child, wasn’t real. It was
some sort of trick.

But to
what possible end?

Somewhere
in this mad underworld, Whyborne and Christine huddled together in darkness, at
the absolute mercy of the umbrae. Why not just kill them?

No.
Wait. I understood now.

“You can’t
leave,” I said. “The seals keep the soldiers in, even on this night, with no
moon in the sky. We’re your only hope of retrieving the chrysalis Turner stole.”

Another
pulse of anger left me breathless. Behind my eyes, I saw the soldier turn away
from Whyborne and Christine and drift away down the corridor.

“Come
to me.”

Griffin

“Griffin?
Speak to us, man!”

I
blinked my eyes open, found myself sprawled on the floor, with Iskander to one
side and Jack to the other. My mouth tasted of blood, and warmth trickled over
my upper lip.

“I’m…I’m
all right,” I managed to say. I tried to sit up, and Jack immediately slid an
arm around me, to keep me from falling back. I leaned on him gratefully.

“What
happened?” Iskander’s black brows drew down sharply. “You were shouting, then
you started bleeding from your nose. You seemed to be having some sort of fit.”

The
words made me shiver. If I had fits, if the dark spaces underground held a
special terror for me, it was the fault of the umbrae. They’d done this to me. Haunted
my dreams, made me think I was going mad. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

I looked
at Scarrow, who stood a short distance away, a frown of concern on his face. “The
Mother of Shadows. Do you know what that means?”

Scarrow’s
expression shifted to one of outright fear. He turned to the door, and the
carving of the great worm on it.

Not
good. “Something calling itself the Mother of Shadows touched my mind.”

“The
voice you’ve been hearing?” Iskander asked.

“You’ve
been hearing voices?” Jack demanded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I
ignored the question. “The seals kept her from sensing me, and…muffled, I
suppose one might say, what I was overhearing. Now that we’re here, with no
magic between us, she can sense and communicate with me.” I told them what I’d
seen.

“Then
Christine is alive.” Iskander’s shoulders slumped in relief. “And Whyborne, of
course. Thank God.”

“For the
moment,” I said. With Jack’s assistance, I regained my feet. “And it seems
Turner has already fled with a chrysalis.”

“The
noise Iskander heard?” Jack suggested. He didn’t seem entirely certain what to
think. “Nicholas left Dr. Whyborne and Dr. Putnam, then. As he promised.”

“To be
killed by the umbrae he angered,” Iskander said, shooting Jack a venomous glare.
“How can you hope to defend him after this?”

Jack
looked utterly miserable. “Jack,” I said. “Surely you agree we have to save
Christine, at the very least. The Mother of Shadows wants the chrysalis back. She
isn’t going to let Christine and Whyborne go without it.” I licked my lips and
tasted blood. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to save them,” I said. “And
I’m asking you to help me. Please, brother.”

Jack
slowly raised his gaze from the floor to my face. “You’re my little brother,”
he said at last. “I can’t let you go without me.”

I
smiled. “Thank you.”

“I
cannot let Turner leave with the umbra,” Scarrow said. “I’ll try to find him
before he leaves the city. Slow him down, if there’s any way possible.”

Jack
winced, as if he wanted to object. “He means well, reverend. Don’t hurt him.
Tell him we just want to talk to him.”

“The
last member of the Cabal who tried to talk to the Endicotts ended up strewn in
pieces across England as a warning,” Scarrow replied grimly. “But as Turner is
from a subsidiary branch, I shall pray him more open to reason.”

“We’ll
join you as soon as we can,” I said. Perhaps I could somehow talk the Mother into
letting us go. And if not, Whyborne might find a way to kill her.

“God go
with us all,” Scarrow said, turning back to the doors.

“Wait.”
When he looked back, I hesitated. It was stupid to ask, but… “The umbrae. When sorcerers
take them as servants. It doesn’t…hurt them, does it?”

Scarrow
looked astonished I had even thought to ask. “Of course pain is used to train
them—how else would one get them to obey?” I must have looked disturbed,
because he said, “I wouldn’t trouble yourself overmuch, Mr. Flaherty. Such
creatures don’t really feel things the way we do. They’re merely animals.
Tools, even.”

I didn’t
know how to reply. Plenty of men thought it perfectly fine to whip a mule half
to death to make it work harder. I’d never understood how anyone could do such
a thing, when all one had to do was look at the poor beast to know it suffered.

The
umbra suffered in my dreams that were really fragments of memory. If the Mother
told the truth, if the one in Chicago had reached out to me and I’d carried
some part of its pain buried deeply in my mind…

God. I
couldn’t
actually feel sorry for the monster that killed Glenn. It would be a betrayal
of the highest order.

Scarrow
apparently didn’t expect a reply, because he hurried back the way we’d come,
the light of his lantern vanishing up the ramp. Jack touched my shoulder; when
I turned to him, he looked deeply worried. “Griffin? Are you all right?”

“No,” I
said. “But it doesn’t matter right now. Let’s get to Whyborne and Christine.”

Whyborne

“Did it
leave?” Christine whispered into my coat, after what seemed an eternity of
waiting.

We both
flinched, instinctively expecting her words to trigger something to pounce on
us from the darkness. But nothing happened. There was no sound save our labored
breathing, no acid-coated touch. Nothing but impenetrable darkness, and stone,
and us.

“I think
so,” I whispered back, afraid to speak too loud.

We both
began to tremble, then to shake as reaction set in. We clung helplessly to one
another. Christine’s breathing whistled between clenched teeth. As for me, I
felt as though I couldn’t breathe deeply enough, my lungs unable to expand. My
hands and feet had gone cold, and my teeth chattered.

“W-Why?”
she managed at last.

“I don’t
know.” I pressed my face against her hair; her hood had fallen back at some
point. “Or if it will come back.”

Eventually
our shivering subsided. I lifted my head, but saw nothing. No light had
penetrated this place since ancient times. Since the mountain itself rose from
the primeval seas, for all I knew.

How would
we get out now? I’d sacrificed our only lantern. Thanks to Turner, we carried
no extra supplies with us. Was there anything to use as a makeshift torch?
Perhaps if we ripped up bits of our clothing and set them on fire at intervals…

And then
what? An occasional flare of light, which would die before our eyes could even
adjust, wouldn’t be enough to help us find our way out of here. Not past
dozens, or hundreds, or for all I knew thousands of umbrae. Why they’d
withdrawn I couldn’t guess, but the chances of it happening a second time
seemed unlikely.

Christine
must have been thinking along similar lines, because she said, “We’re going to
die here, aren’t we?”

“No,” I
said automatically. “You mustn’t say such things.”

“Why
not?” She rested her head against my shoulder. “No light, no food, barely any
water, one of us injured and the other unable to pass the damned seals…it doesn’t
look good.”

I
sighed. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither
of us spoke for what seemed a long time, although amidst the absence of light,
and with little in the way of sound, I couldn’t gauge how long had passed. At
length, though, she stirred. “Whyborne?”

“Yes?”

“I’m
sorry I called you a monster.”

“Of all
the things we have to worry about at the moment, that’s the one you choose?”

She
laughed weakly. “Well, it’s the only one I can do anything about.”

“I know
you didn’t do it to be cruel.” I rested my cheek against her hair.

“Still,
it
was
cruel. And I’m sorry.”

“I
forgive you. Think no more of it.”

She
sighed. “I wonder…do you think Iskander and Griffin…”

“Managed
to escape?” I asked, because I wouldn’t think of the other possibility.

“Exactly.”

“Yes,” I
said with as much confidence as I could. “Griffin’s been in some rather sticky
situations before, and Iskander is no stranger to peril. They’ll be fine.”

“I hope
so.” Her voice caught. “I just wish I could…could know for certain. I wanted to
marry Iskander, but I was fr-frightened. Giving someone, even someone I love, so
much power over me.” Her shoulders convulsed. “Especially after what happened
to my sister. I know Iskander would never hurt me, but…I don’t know. When it
came down to it, I was glad for an excuse to put off the wedding. God, I wish I
hadn’t.”

Tears
stung my eyes, accompanied by a longing to see Griffin again. If only I knew he
was safe. I tried to picture him back in Widdershins, sitting in our study with
our cat on his lap, some other man beside him. My throat tightened, and I
brought my left hand to my mouth, resting the cool ring of gold against my
lips. Ah, God, I almost heard his voice.

No.
Wait. I
did
hear his voice.

I
jerked, heart hammering wildly, but saw only the endless black. “Hello!” I
shouted.

“What
are you doing?” Christine exclaimed.

I
ignored her. “Help! We’re here!”

“Whyborne?”
came the faint call.

Christine
gasped, then added her voice to mine, both of us yelling like lunatics. Within
moments, I caught the faint glimmer of light reflecting from the stone wall.

I
lurched to my feet—and there he stood, face pale in the shadow of his
hood, but alive and real and here.

I didn’t
remember crossing the space separating us. Between one moment and the next, I
had my arms around him, and his around me. “Ival,” he said, and pulled back
just far enough for his mouth to find mine. He tasted of tears and blood, and I
could have kissed him forever.

“Christine!”
cried Iskander. “You’re hurt!”

Griffin
and I broke apart. To my horror, Jack stood only a few feet from us. “You!” I
shouted. My voice echoed oddly, and a breeze stirred my hair.

Jack’s
eyes widened in alarm, and he took a step back. I advanced on him, rage
pounding in my veins. It was his fault this happened, his fault Christine had
been stabbed—

“Ival,
no!” Griffin grasped my arm, holding me back. “Jack is helping us.”

“Oh, he’s
been very helpful. Luring us to this godforsaken wilderness, handing us over to
Turner, holding you hostage,” I snarled. “Unhand me, and I shall be helpful in
return.”

“Wait,
please!” Jack held up his hands. “I only meant to protect Griffin from you!”

I felt
as if I’d been punched in the gut. “You what?”

“Not
now.” Griffin tugged sharply on my arm. “We have to see to Christine.”

“Turner
stabbed her.” I sent one more glare in Jack’s direction, then let Griffin lead
me back to the rock fall, where Christine still sat.

“Kander,
please. You’re making more of a fuss out of things than needed,” Christine
said. Iskander ignored her, instead peeling back her parka. “Damn it, man, I’ll
freeze.”

“No, you
won’t. We’re too far underground.” He gave her a stern look of his own. “Now,
for once in your life, do as I say and remain still.”

“Ha! If
you think I’ll do what you tell me just because we’re to be married, you’re in for
an unfortunate surprise.”

“I don’t
expect you to obey me, sod it,” he snapped. “I expect you be intelligent enough
not to bleed to death in this hellhole.”

It
silenced her. The makeshift bandage around her coat was sodden with blood, and
Iskander shook his head angrily. “Honestly, I can’t believe you didn’t have
the—the wit to stop for five minutes and replace this with a proper
bandage.”

“It had
stopped bleeding,” she replied with an air of wounded dignity. “I didn’t think
it a good idea to get it started again. Only it did anyway, and then the damned
soldiers started chasing us. Speaking of which, how on earth is it you three
are here and not, well, dead?”

“Because
Griffin is apparently communicating with the things,” Jack said.

Christine
and I exchanged a glance. “Oh,” I said. “I suppose I was right.”

Griffin
looked startled. “You guessed this would happen?”

“Well,
no! Not that you’d actually be able to
communicate
with them. Or it. Is
it their queen? We thought they might be like ants, you see—”

“Whyborne,
be silent and let the man tell us,” Christine snapped. Iskander had helped her
out of her coat and shirt. Blood soaked the arm of her union suit, and he drew
out a knife I recognized as being one of a set he’d used with great
effectiveness against the ghūls in Egypt.

“Christine,
hold still,” he said. “I’m going to cut off the arm of union suit—it’s
useless against the cold now anyway, covered in blood like this. I don’t want
to saw your arm off as well.”

Griffin
met my gaze, his eyes haunted. Hunted, almost. Now deeply worried, I took his
hand, and to the devil with what Jack might think of the gesture. “It’s all
right, darling. Whatever it is you have to say.”

His
smile was wan, only the faintest shadow of his usual devilish grin. “Thank you.
But really…it’s not all right at all.”