Legacy of a Dreamer (13 page)

“How many of our allies will be arriving?” Titus said to one of the new warriors, and then turned to the priest instructing him to ‘prepare the women for immediate departure’.
 

“At least five more,” the newcomer answered, his tone dejected. “Aidan has fallen.”

Chantal glanced at Mathias with worry, watching as his guarded expression portrayed the pain he felt at the news of a lost comrade. She wanted to comfort him, but with Lydia wrapped around her so tight, and the room surrounded by his kin, she didn’t think her affection would be appropriate at this time. They still had a lot to work through and talk about when this was over.

“Callistus, you and the rest of the guard take the women and children to the next safe location,” Titus said. “Mathias, Andreu, Lukas, and I will take care of Chantal.”

Callistus nodded and headed back to the collection of his kin, some still coming in from the Shade.

“Conlan!” Lydia squirmed in Chantal’s arms, and her face lit up. “Conlan! I’m here!”

“Lydia!” A warrior tall and muscular with a thick mess of auburn curls, made his way to where they were standing. He had a large gash across his cheek that was dripping a steady stream of blood, but the smile he had for Lydia surpassed any pain he must have felt.

She finally set a squirming Lydia onto the floor and she ran into the waiting arms of Conlan.

“I’ve missed you, muscle man,” she said, laughing when he shook his fuzzy hair in her face.

“I’ve missed you too, munchkin. How you been holding up?”

“You have a big ouchie on your face,” Lydia said, placing her little hand on his chin.

“It’s okay, and it will be gone before you know it.”

His face, the way he seemed to make Lydia feel so safe in his hulking presence, made her take another look around the room. Keeping a steady eye on the little girls, she looked for any sense of fear or discomfort around these large men.

A little toddler, no more than a year and a half, reached out to one of the men. Shocked to see the man take her in his arms, Chantal saw the expressions of all the men seem to melt when they saw the little girls. And the children seemed more comfortable in their presence, as if they knew they were protected.

“Amazing,” she whispered, forgetting her surroundings.

“Just because we play in the dark doesn’t mean we’re the boogie man.” Mathias laughed, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

“Chantal,” Lydia said. Hand-in-hand with Conlan, she tugged the large man toward her. “This is my friend, Chantal. She’s the Woman in White.”

“Honor to meet you.” Conlan smiled, and she detected the slight hint of an Irish accent.

“Likewise, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Yes, I agree. Come on, Lyd. We need to grab your pack and get going.”

Lydia pulled away to give Chantal another hug, her chocolate-brown eyes filling with tears.

“I’m going to miss you.” She sniffled, wiping her nose on Chantal’s pant leg, and she bent down to her level.

“We will see each other soon,” she said. “I want you to listen to Conlan, okay? If he says hide, you do it. If he says to look away, close those beautiful eyes for me. Okay, sweet girl?”

“Okay.” Lydia hiccupped and then wrapped her arms around Chantal’s neck in a fierce hug.

“Hit the lights!” A deep voice boomed, and Chantal looked up just in time to see the swing of a blade. A warrior stood inside the darkness, half- solid, half-formed, fighting a beast the size of the entire wall.

Lydia screamed and several babies started crying. Titus lunged for the wall switches and slammed them on just as the unknown warrior landed a heavy blow on the creature’s humongous skull, sending it whirling back into the abyss. The beaming lights made the Shade disappear completely, and the warrior fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

“They have this place surrounded by many different beasts,” the injured man said. “But the Kajola are coming. We have no choice; we must get them out now.”

“Callistus, go!” Titus yelled, pointing toward the back of the room. Callistus opened a trap door in the floor and helped the women down. The warriors then pulled large blades and swords, arming everyone who could carry a weapon. Some of the women also had a knife in one hand, the other protecting the baby in their charge.

“I’m coming with you.” Father Ralph joined their small group, his expression sad, yet determined.

“They need you to—” Mathias started, but stopped when the priest aimed a pointed glare in his direction. “So be it.”

“Never argue with a man of God, my son. You will most likely lose every time.”
 

Chantal ran, keeping Titus’s hasty pace, her hand resting firmly in Mathias’s massive grip, yet his presence couldn’t calm the fear racing in her mind.

   
They’d found her, the beasts who hunted her at night, both in her dreams and now in the real world.

Images of the monsters she’d seen both in the subway and in her apartment played behind her eyes. Would these demons be as harsh and cruel as their predecessor’s would? Would Mathias and the others have to fight? Would they win?

The minutes seemed endless, numbing. Her heart raced as they continued both out of fear and out of the warriors’ long strides. She did her best to keep up the fast pace, but she was tiring. Narrow corridors twisted and turned, making her feel disoriented and lost, not knowing where the tunnels would lead. Her breathing becoming more haggard as she was practically running to keep up, and with the narrow passages, she was beginning to hyperventilate and feel claustrophobic.

No matter what her fears may be, a concern for her own safety was eclipsed by the aching worry she had for the children who, at that very moment, were fleeing in the opposite direction.

“Are the girls going to be okay?” Her words echoed off the walls, sounding meek and unsure even to her own ears.

“Don’t worry about them. Worry about yourself.” Mathias’s short answer did not comfort her. Not in regards to her own safety, nor that of the other Oracles. She glared at the back of his head, hating that he seemed to become an emotionless, stone-cold warrior once again.

“A few more feet,” Father Ralph said, and Chantal heard the ting of metal as warriors unsheathed long blades in preparation. “The sanctified ground ends just beyond the backdoor of the sanctuary.”

“It won’t matter if the ground is Holy or not,” Andreu said. “If the Kajola show up before we can get her out of here, they’ll be able cross onto any barrier, unlike the other creatures.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Lukas said, earning a sharp thwack to the gut from Andreu.

“I don’t understand,” Chantal whispered. “How were those monsters able to appear down in that room if they can’t set foot on hallowed ground?”

“Only part of it is blessed, my child,” the priest answered. “Makes it easier for the warriors to appear when needed, like tonight.”

“Both of you quiet down and prepare to fight,” Titus said, coming to an abrupt halt. He peered out through a peephole of a hidden door, a faint light illuminating half of his face. Everyone became deathly silent, listening for any sound of approaching creatures, ready for battle.

Titus pushed the door open, giving his warriors one final glance before crossing the threshold. The group of six walked into an open alcove made of rock, almost as if carved out of the mountain.

It wasn’t a cave, Chantal realized, but a small, stone grotto. Flickering candles held in etched glass lit the hollowed rock in a soft glow. A beautiful marble depiction of the Madonna stood at the apex. Mary, frozen forever in agony, stared at her son’s vacant body. The heartbroken mother holding her dead son in her arms offered a symbol of ultimate sacrifice. Chantal couldn’t take her eyes off the devastated expression on the statue’s face.

“To the garden. It’s our best bet to get through the Shade undetected.” Father Ralph pointed toward a lush green oasis just outside the grotto. A walkway made of brick that led to the modest space, lined with white benches meant for worship.

“Let’s go.” Mathias tugged on her hand, while clutching his blade in his other. They moved through the courtyard in a silent procession with each person’s senses heightened and aware of their surroundings, waiting for the enemy to strike.

Chantal felt a gentle change in the atmosphere at they left the grotto’s steps, and she looked to Mathias to see if he had a similar experience.

“We just left hallowed ground,” he said without meeting her eyes. “The beasts cannot cross onto it, nor can the Shade penetrate it.”

“Quiet,” Titus said with a palm held out. He stopped, looking toward the far end of the garden. Though it was empty to the naked eye, the atmosphere suddenly felt charged. Green turned to a muddy gray. Flowers sagged against the heaviness in the air, almost wilting. Everything became bleak, oppressing. A stark chill ran up her spine, and Chantal knew without a doubt, they were not alone in the garden. A sudden chill engulfed her, and she knew danger was near.
 

“Get back!” Mathias pulled her behind him, both arms held out wide, acting like a shield. He shuffled back toward the grotto pushing her with him.

“Look out!” Lukas pointed toward the blackest part of the fog as a huge beast appeared from the darkness. The creature was massive in size and looked like a deformed grizzly bear as it came barreling toward them on all fours, a thick string of acrid drool hanging from its mouth.

The warriors fanned out, squatting low, ready for attack. The beast swiped a huge paw toward the guard. Giant-sized talons racked across their group, sending Lukas and Andreu flying through the air. Mathias lunged with his knife buried to the hilt in the creature’s neck and causing a huge gash to open and a spurt of foul, black liquid as he pulled it out and stepped back. Despite the hit, the thing came at them again. A long, whip-like tongue snaked out of its mouth. The end of it wrapped around Mathias’s leg and flung him head over heel.

“Nick!” Chantal screamed, running toward him without caution.

“No!” Father Ralph yelled, holding her back. “He will be fine. Let’s move!”

He tugged her backward, crossing onto the hallowed ground. She watched in horror as the four warriors, all badly injured, fought off the beast in a clash of metal and flying bits of flesh.

“We should be safe,” the priest said, his arms remaining protectively around Chantal.

“No, we have to help them!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“They are warriors, my dear. It’s their duty, what they trained for. They will be fine.”

“Yes, they will,” a dark voice replied from behind them. “But who will save you while they play with my pet, I wonder?”

Before Chantal could see who spoke, Father Ralph had shoved her out of the way stepping between her and the voice. She fell, pain shooting across her palms when they hit the ground. Chantal attempted a cry of warning as a dark figure approached, but no sound came out. The priest had come prepared. From beneath his robes, he pulled out a sword, a Gothic cross majestically etched into the steel.

“You think you can fight me?” the unknown figure said. “You are nothing but a mere mortal.”

“You have chosen the wrong side,” the priest said. “Denounce the Kajola and the Evil One. It is not too late!”

The horrible voice laughed, and Chantal’s mind seemed to recognize that dark sound. She’d heard it before; there was no doubt about that. But from where?

“It has always been too late. My dear father saw to that.”

“Damon!” Mathias whirled into the grotto, his sword held high and dripping black blood of the creature.

Damon . . .

The name jogged something in her mind, and she shuffled backward, wanting to get as far away from the voice as she could. The sound of shifting rock beneath her feet caused Damon to turn, and Chantal gasped.

Eyes as black as night. The face she recognized; older now, more mature, yet unforgettable. But how could it be? He couldn’t be the boy from the subway . . .

Damon smiled and took a step in her direction, evil palpable in the room—Chantal backed away, her confusion turning to panic in an instant.

A knife blurred through the air, sinking deep into the back of Damon’s shoulder. Without so much as a grimace, the Kajola soldier pulled out the blade and dropped it onto the ground without a hitch in his step as he turned a brief glance at his attacker and then continued toward her. “Mathias, my long lost kin,” Damon said with false happiness. “It’s been ages, brother.”

“You are no brother of mine. Stay away from her,” Mathias said as he circled Damon, keeping the priest on the outer circle as the last layer of defense.

“It’s too late for that,” Damon replied. “I’ve been ordered to take her in.”

“You take your orders from the Evil One now?” Mathias tightened his grip on his sword, and a stream of blood trailed down his arm.

“Seems you have been wounded. Hand her over and everybody lives to fight another day,” Damon said, his wicked smile growing in intensity. Mathias shrugged off the comment, never taking his eyes away from the enemy.

“You’re a little outnumbered, brother.”