Mistress of the Stone (23 page)

“The more you struggle, the tighter the bonds.”

That voice.

She tried to turn, but her limbs refused to obey.

“Are you daft as well as deaf, my dear?”

“Is that you, Sorceress? Where are you?”

The thin, frail figure of a woman materialized in front of her.

Sibyl stuttered a greeting. “My lady. I had hoped we would meet.”

“Eh, why is that?” The gaunt woman paced to and fro, her skirts swishing in step.

Sibyl grimaced, unable to move even her little finger. “Please, Madam. If you hold power over these limbs, I wish you’d free them.”

“I’ve already told you how to free yourself. The harder you struggle, the tighter the bonds. Let go, Sibyl. You’re the only one holding back.”

Sibyl did as she was told, or tried at least. She relaxed her arm and managed to wiggle the fingers on her right hand. Next came her foot, but it was nearly impossible to move. She thought of Xander and how she’d like to kick her dear brother’s arse for all the trouble he’d been. And just like that her foot twitched. She grinned, and Izabel threw her a cross look.

One by one her limbs thawed and moved freely. Sibyl rubbed her arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, girl. You have something I want.”

“Madam? What is that?”

“Your youth.” She tickled her under her chin. “Your pretty face.”

Sibyl’s breath caught in her throat, the first time it had done that in a long time. “I beg your pardon?”

“You died young and with all your vigor. Exactly what I needed to replenish my own.” Izabel traced a finger across her withered mouth. “Even spirits wither, albeit slowly, and I tire of this ragged body. When I asked the Oracle for a soul to replenish the strength of my own, it pleased me to see it had chosen you. But I never expected it to return you to life.”

Sibyl swallowed hard. “Merciful God. Then it’s true. I’m alive?” She examined the skin on her arms, goose flesh springing up where she touched it. Her fingers settled on her wrist. A pulse. At her chest, a heartbeat.

But was this some unholy act? Was she a demon reborn? She fell to her knees and thanked God. “Praise be to the Almighty.”

“Bah! Get off your knees, girl. The Almighty had nothing to do with returning you to the living. That was the Oracle’s doing.” The crone studied her like a piece of fine boiled lamb. “My problem now is how to merge your essence and mine. Your body was a bonus. Your youth I can absorb, but how do I make your flesh my own?”

Sibyl thought her blood had run out of her veins. “You’d diminish me into oblivion—with not even a soul to bathe in God’s mercy?”

“Come now, child. We all have to make sacrifices.” Her mouth crooked downwards. “But the spirit must be shorn from flesh delicately. The blood moon would be best, when the divide between flesh and spirit is fragile.”

“By all that’s holy, you can’t do this. It’s a sin against God, against humanity.”

A cackle rose from the recesses of her belly. “My dear. Sinning is the least of my worries.” She snapped her fingers. “Shadrach,” she shrieked. “Come here. I need you.”

A heavy door scraped open, and Sibyl’s beloved ducked his head as he crossed the threshold. Long hard sinews were etched into his arms, and his wings were so massive he had to enter sideways.

Her heart skipped a beat. Shadrach. Her Shadrach.

“Take the girl to my chambers and lock her in. I need time to figure out how best to proceed. The blood moon is nearly upon us.”

Shadrach barely glanced at Sibyl. He obeyed blindly, taking her by the arm without so much as a word. She tried to speak, but he squeezed her arm until she winced.

“Hush,” he murmured then tugged her along.

He loosened his grip as soon as they were out of Izabel’s presence. Sibyl pressed her hand in his. She could feel him, really feel him, not like before when flesh felt more like mist and shadows. It was a moment she thought they’d never have again, yet here she was, alive and whole.

Shadrach took her to the top of the tower, Izabel’s tower, where she kept court with her gargoyles, all men cursed into stone.

Sibyl entered first, dazzled and horrified to bear witness to this witch’s inner sanctum. Is this why Shadrach rarely spoke of this place? Most of the candles had been snuffed out, but it was light enough to see the skulls of many animals and men.

The candelabra was made from human bones, softly lighting an old book. There was parchment, and ink the color of blood. Izabel had been making a list with the names of women, islanders who had died here—like her.

The main table lay littered with bottles and pottery containing poisons like belladonna, monkshood and arsenic. A second table was laden with live serpents and toads. Here, all manner of flesh and bone sat in various jars, and the smell of blood and vinegar mingled with candle smoke.

Shadrach shut the door behind them, then grabbed her by the shoulders, his rough hands touching her hair, her skin, her mouth.
 

“We thought the worst when we found the Oracle destroyed.”

“We?”

“Aye. Xander and Luísa went looking for you. I found them traipsing through the jungle and gave them a lift.” His eyes twinkled in the telling.

Sibyl lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Xander must have been livid.”

“I hope so. I never could stand his arrogance.” He picked her up, whisking her off her feet in a twirl. “But you. Look at you. You’re flesh and blood. Surely this wasn’t Izabel’s doing.”

“No. It was the Oracle. She restored me.”

He was gentle with her, lightly rubbing his stone hand against her flesh. “Then this is real? And is such a thing against the laws of God?” Shadrach’s face grew somber. “Not that I care. I’ll take you back anyway I can have you. And I’ll not lose you again.”

“Then we have to run, my love. Izabel reached the Oracle before me and asked it for a way to regain her youth. I was the answer to that prayer. Now Izabel plans to seize me body and soul.”

“Never!” His dulcet voice spiked with rage. “I’ll not lose you again.” He raced to the barred window and wrapped his hands around a bar. “I can pull these out and we’ll fly away. Far from this island and out of Izabel’s reach.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Shadrach, but I can’t leave my brother, not while he needs my help. He’s in mortal danger. I’ve seen it in my cards. I pulled a Death card.”

Shadrach’s wings expanded, knocking down a cold brazier and a book stand. “The blazes with your brother! I must get thee away from here. Xander will have to make it on his own.”

“I won’t leave him!”

“Damn it, woman. Think him a lad? Xander is more than capable of taking care of himself. You could’ve misinterpreted those cards.”

“I didn’t. It warned of an ultimate sacrifice. A life for a life. I know Xander too well. That fool brother of mine will sacrifice anything to save that pirate girl.”

“Aye, but now he doesn’t have to. You’re alive again. He’ll not risk the girl or his life, now that you have yours back. Let me take you away from here, and I’ll bring word to Xander that you’re safe.”

Sibyl hugged him. Beneath the stone façade, he was all man. Blood pumped through his veins, and his chest rose and fell with each breath. And when his lips touched hers, she wanted it to last forever.

“All right, Shadrach. Take me away from here, but only far enough to keep me out of Izabel’s grasp, then come straight back and bring Xander with you.”

He laughed. “Aye, it would please me to see that look of annoyance on your brother’s face when I pluck him from the ground again.”

“And then we’ll be together. Forever.”

“Yes, luv. Forever. I like the sound of that.” He lifted her into his arms and twirled her around. For the first time in months, she had seen him smile.

Sibyl rubbed her face against his, soft flesh against the scored grooves of chiseled stone. Shadrach never told her how long ago he met his fate, but she knew it was Izabel’s doing. All her gargoyles were once men. Cursed for all time.

The woman had no pity and no conscience.

He pressed his lips against hers, searing her with a kiss that gave rise to every tender feeling she’d suppressed, everything she’d hidden from Xander and Luc.

Shadrach parted from her and thumped her nose. “It’ll take but a moment to pull out the bars. In a few minutes, we’ll be well away from here.” His wings extended, and he made a little hop over to the barred window where he wrapped powerful hands around a bar as thick as anchor chain. He pulled, dislodging bits of stone, cracking the mortar and forcing iron to submit to brute strength.

A little more.
Sibyl clasped her hands together, giddy at the thought of leaving this place and having a life, a real life together.

The stone began to crumble, and the first bar was freed. They’d need only two more to make their escape. Shadrach had started on the second bar when an unholy cold seeped into the room and into her bones. Sibyl recognized the presence of a ghost even if she couldn’t see it. Her heart caught in her throat, and she looked for a new way out. They’d have no time for windows.

Too late.

Every candle lit at once.

Even Shadrach, so consumed in his task, hesitated, then turned around slowly.

A laugh dripping with malice murmured in the shadows. “Going somewhere, Shadrach?” The Sorceress manifested between them.

“Milady.” The second bar was still in Shadrach’s hand. “I can explain. Someone has tampered with these bars.”

Izabel shook her head. “Long time have I been here, my ugly man. Long enough to know your plan. Think I would let you steal my prize?”

“Madam, it’s not what you think.”

Her mouth curled into a snarl, and she snapped her hand in his direction, conjuring a ball of lightning. It struck a pitcher on a table, shattering it into tiny pieces.

Sibyl ran at her and screamed. “Let him alone!”

Izabel knocked her aside with the flick of a finger. Her fury was for her servant alone.

Sibyl was no match for Izabel in her mortal state and worse yet, her knotted belt had disappeared. She had no way to summon the winds to her aid.

Shadrach moved toward Sibyl, but she shook her head as subtly as she could. They had to appease the old hag if only to give them time.

Izabel’s breath rattled in her bony chest. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Did you honestly think I didn’t know you visited this girl?”

She took another step, her eyes flashing like candle light.

“She’s mine now, Gargoyle. You cannot have her.”

“Milady—”

“Silence!”

The hearth came to life, and every loose object in the room jumped to her temper.

“I can make a thousand of you, Shadrach. I don’t need you. I don’t need your treachery.”

“I’ve served you faithfully, madam.”

“Now you need serve me no longer.” Her eyes narrowed into black slits, and she raised both hands palm side up. “Fire for the cauldron to melt the fat. Melt the stone just like that.” Izabel pointed her crooked finger at him, shaking with the palsy of madness and age. Shadrach roiled in agony, his body curling into itself, desperate to evade the scourge she inflicted.

A melting curse!

More ancient words in a tongue Sibyl hadn’t heard in a long time. But she knew its power. How could she stop her?

She grabbed Izabel’s book and tore out a handful of pages, feeding them to a fat candle that ate them up greedily.

Izabel’s eyes bugged out, outraged at the desecration. She lashed at Sibyl like a woman possessed, knocking her against the table littered with jars of live snakes and toads. Sibyl cracked her head against the back of the table and sagged to the floor. Broken glass was everywhere, much of it on her.

Books, papers and potions buried her, and she grappled over several broken jars thick with poisons. She read the label of one clay pot and then another. Henbane, toad eyes, mugwort, mallow. No, she thought. No good.

She reached into the pit of broken glass and something stabbed her. When she drew her hand away, a banded snake in red, yellow and black had sunk its fangs deep. She choked back a sob and whispered a prayer for clemency.

They had been so close to bliss. Once more, it would be stolen from them.

Her breath grew short, and her eyes widened, suddenly aware the room had become darker. She stared at Izabel, a thin smile creasing her face. “You’ve lost, witch. You’ll not have me to quench your lust.” She pulled the snake off her flesh and tossed it at the crone.

“No!” Izabel shrieked. “You’ll not die. Not yet.”

She tried to get up, but fell.
So cold.

The wound was a mortal one. It wouldn’t be long now.

Sibyl sat on the floor, musing to herself. How many people get to die twice in one lifetime? And then another thought struck her. She had pulled the Death card. The card that foretold of a sacrifice. Could it be… Was the card meant for her after all?

Shadrach ran to her. “No, Sibyl. Not again. Please.”

“I had to do it, my love. For you. For us. I’m sorry.”