Nightshade (44 page)

Oh God.
I scuttled backward as two grasping arms and then a flailing body dropped out of one of the tall portraits that hung on the walls.

The figure jerked to its feet and ambled toward us, its moans constant, growing more and more desperate. All along the halls bodies lurched and rolled from the paintings until the corridor was filled by the scrape of slow-moving feet on the stone floor. Dozens of the moaning creatures came forward at an awkward, jerking gait.

The first of them emerged from the dark corridor and was suddenly bathed in moonlight. I whined, swaying on my feet. Despite the sunken features and vacant expression, I would have recognized him anywhere. It was the Searcher whom I’d turned over to Efron and Lumine for questioning. My muscles quaked and I thought my legs might give out.

Calla!
Shay’s alarm brought me back to my senses.
What the hell is happening? What are those things?

I don’t know, but there are too many.
I couldn’t hide my own panic.
We can’t fight them.

Shay darted past me, shifting forms. “Come on!” He hurled himself against the library door, flinging it open, and I rushed after him into the dark room. The moment I was through the door, he slammed it shut and locked it. He banged his forehead on the wood, drawing a ragged breath. I could hear the screams of the succubi on the other side of the door.

“Damn,” Shay whispered.

I shifted forms. “I know. We have to find a way out of here.”

“That’s not it.” He was shaking his head.

“What are you talking about, Shay?”

“The door, Calla,” he murmured. “The library door. It wasn’t locked.”

My throat closed.

“They weren’t chasing us,” he continued. “They were driving us.”

I jumped as a ruddy orange glow poured through the library. Flames burst to life, dancing and weaving in the fireplace. A lone figure stood in front of the roaring fire, his frame outlined by the flickering light. Fear wormed beneath my skin. The shadow cast by the Keeper wasn’t the shape of a man. I didn’t know what it was.

“Very perceptive of you, Shay.” Bosque Mar smiled, his eyes rolled up at the portrait above the mantel. “Your parents would be proud.”

“Uncle Bosque.” Shay’s voice quaked. “You’re here.”

Bosque continue to smile, the play of light and shadow from the undulating fire etching his face into a grotesque mask. The cruelty of his expression made my knees weak.

What is he?
I grabbed Shay’s arm, tugging him back.

“I was called back from business,” he said. “It seems things in Vail have gotten a bit out of hand.”

His eyes moved to me, narrowing into slits. “Tell me, Calla. When precisely did you turn my nephew into one of your own kind?”

I forced steel into my voice. “He is not your nephew.”

Bosque’s laugh was like shattering glass. “How very little you understand. You’re a warrior, a leader of warriors.” He took a step forward. “I never expected such foolishness from an alpha Guardian.”

“She isn’t foolish,” Shay said, twining his fingers in mine.

“She belongs to another and she betrayed her own kind. She is the embodiment of rash decisions.” Bosque glanced at our clasped hands and shook his head. “I’m afraid this will not do.”

“Who are you?” Shay managed to keep his voice level, though I could feel his pulse pounding.

“The only family you have left,” Bosque murmured. He glanced at the painting again. Tristan and Sarah’s faces appeared even more sorrowful than when I’d first gazed at the portrait. “I’m the one who knows what’s best for you.”

“You want to kill me,” Shay whispered.

Bosque cocked his head, smiling. “Why would I want to kill my own nephew?”

I gripped Shay’s hand. “Stop it. No more lies. They tied him up! Brought him to be sacrificed at the union. We know about the prophecy, the sacrifice. We read
The War of All Against All.
”

“I know,” Bosque replied smoothly. “But why do you think we forbid the study of that volume?”

“To protect yourself and the Keepers,” I said. “To keep us from knowing the truth about our past. You’ve enslaved us.”

“No, dear girl. We saved you.” Bosque assumed a pained expression. “Keepers have always been the caretakers of our Guardian soldiers. That book is poison, full of lies produced by the Searchers. It has been circulated by our enemies for centuries in an attempt to seduce others to their wicked cause. We work hard to suppress it because of the harm it can do. And look at what has happened because of it. That text has brought bloodshed to our very doorstep.”

“It wasn’t the book that attacked us!” I shouted. “I don’t even have a name for what came out of those paintings.” I pointed at his bizarre shadow. “Or for you! What are you?”

Bosque’s face darkened, but a second later a placid smile rested on his lips. “I’m sorry if you were frightened, but this exceptional circumstance made it necessary that I gain a captive audience with the two of you. You must listen to reason.”

“Reason?” Shay spat. “I want to know the truth!”

“Of course you do, Shay.” Bosque nodded quickly. “If I’d realized what an independent spirit you’d developed, I would never have put this library off-limits. What else would a bright young man like yourself do but find a way in? Your thirst for knowledge is admirable.”

His smile had the keen edge of a blade. “I blame myself. I still think of you as a little boy. I wanted to protect you from your enemies, but I failed to see how much you’ve grown up. I’ve neglected you, and for that I have much regret.”

Shay’s fingers clutched my hand so tightly it hurt. “Tell me who you really are.”

“I’m your uncle,” Bosque said calmly, walking toward us. “Your own flesh and blood.”

“Who are the Keepers?” Shay asked.

“Others like me, who want only to protect you. To help you,” Bosque replied. “Shay, you are not like other children. You have untapped abilities that you cannot begin to imagine. I can show you who you truly are. Teach you to use the power you have.”

“If you’re so invested in helping Shay, why was he the sacrifice at my union?” I pushed Shay behind me, shielding him from Bosque.

Bosque shook his head. “Another tragic misunderstanding. A test, Calla, of your loyalty to our noble cause. I thought we offered you the best of educations, but perhaps you aren’t familiar with Abraham’s trial with his son Isaac? Isn’t the sacrifice of one you love the ultimate gauge of your faith? Do you really believe we wanted Shay to die at your hands? We’ve asked you to be his protector.”

I began to shake. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Bosque smiled, and it almost looked kind. “After all you’ve been through, have you no trust in your masters? You would never have been made to harm Shay—another kill would have been provided in his place at the last moment. I understand such a test may seem too terrible to be fair, too much to ask of you and Renier. Perhaps you are too young to have faced such a trial.”

I couldn’t answer him, suddenly questioning everything I’d done up to this moment, wondering if my own desires had carried me far off course, skewing my ability to see the truth. I didn’t know what to believe.

“I’ve cared for Shay since he was a tiny child. Provided for his every want and need. Surely that proves my concern for his welfare.” Bosque paused a few feet short of us, stretching his arms out to his nephew. “Please, give me your trust.”

The stained glass windows behind Bosque exploded into a shower of multicolored shards. I pushed Shay to the ground and curled my body around his, shielding him from the jagged rain. I threw an arm up to cover my face while the falling glass sheared the fabric of my sweater and sliced my skin.

Shouts sounded in the room, the pounding of footfalls on the library floor. I raised my face to see at least twenty Searchers leaping through the shattered windows, surging in a wave of glinting steel and buzzing arrows toward the Keeper. The air around Bosque shimmered and the flurry of projectiles sailing at him bounced back like they’d slammed into a shield. Bosque raised his arms. The leaping flames of the fire extinguished and the red haze illuminating the room gave way to the blindness of heavy shadow.

A few of the Searchers stumbled and fell; others jerked awkwardly to a stop, struggling to regain their bearings. Shay pushed me off him and rolled to his feet.

“What happened?”

“Searchers,” I hissed. “More than I’ve ever seen.”

Bosque threw his head back and cried out. I covered my ears against the sound, which made the library’s books vibrate on the shelves. The darkness covering the room collected into distinct pools that rose into the air and slowly took shape. I gasped and grabbed Shay’s arm.

“Are those . . .” His voice was tight.

“Wraiths,” I murmured. “But it’s impossible.”

“Why?” His eyes were wide as the shadow guards descended upon the invading force.

I could barely draw breath to get the words out. “No one can summon more than a single wraith at a time. They’re too hard to control.”

“Wraiths incoming!” one of the Searchers shouted. “Ethan, Connor! Get the boy and get out now! The rest of you clear a path for them!”

Another Searcher, a woman, screamed when black tendrils snaked around her waist. Yet another hacked futilely with his sword at the looming wraith that engulfed him; he made strangling sounds as his body disappeared into the black veil.

“Go! Go! Go!” the first Searcher yelled.

Bosque’s face twisted, full of outrage. With fingers extended like talons, he pointed to the library door, twisted his hand, and jerked his arm back. The door flew open and the horde that waited on the balcony sprang to life, rushing into the fray. Succubi and incubi hissed and screeched as they flew through the library, spouting flames while the Searchers’ arrows buzzed through the air. Several of the winged creatures screamed and dropped to the ground, feathered shafts protruding from their chests.

The chimera bounded into the room and pounced on a Searcher who screamed as the lion’s jaws clamped on his shoulder, its serpent tail striking at his legs over and over. Shuffling feet and moans announced the arrival of the painted undead, who lurched into the battle, jaws agape, eyes hollow and hungry. A few of the Searchers dropped their weapons, screaming at the sight of these slow-moving, desiccated creatures.

Bosque began to laugh and waved his arms as though conducting a symphony. The chorus of moans grew louder.

“Don’t look at the Fallen!” the first Searcher shouted. “Our target is all that matters!”

“Monroe! The boy is over here!” A man bolted from the other side of the room toward us. I recognized him instantly, even without blood gushing from his nose.

I bared my teeth as he raised his crossbow.

“No talking this time,” Ethan said.

I shifted forms, launching myself at him, but my breath came whistling back out as a pair of crossbow bolts buried in my chest. The force of my leap sent Ethan and me tumbling over each other across the floor. I smashed into the far wall. Pain rocketed up my spine. I could feel blood running over my stomach as I fought to remain conscious.

“Calla!” Shay hurled himself at us, shifting in midair. Ethan swore, twisting away from Shay’s snapping jaws.

“Monroe, Connor! Get over here now! They’ve turned the Scion,” Ethan yelled, and another string of curses erupted from his throat.

A blurred figure sped across the room, weaving through the chaos of wings, claws, and weapons. I saw Connor fling his body across the floor, rolling just out of reach of the slithering shape of a wraith. He leapt to his feet and bolted toward Shay, who snarled when Connor drew his swords. He held the blades low, wolf and Searcher stalking in a slow circle facing each other.

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid, but we don’t have time for this.”

I watched them struggle through a haze of pain. My breath sounded wet each time I sucked in air. Despite the spike of pain I tried to drag myself toward them.

While Shay’s eyes tracked Connor, Ethan struggled to his feet. His hand dipped inside his leather duster and he threw himself onto the wolf’s back. Shay yelped when the Searcher plunged a syringe into his neck. Shay bucked, snarling, and Ethan flew back onto the stone floor. The wolf pivoted, muscles bunched to leap at Ethan, but abruptly shook his head. His limbs shuddered and he whimpered, swaying on his feet and collapsing onto the floor. He didn’t move again.

I howled, struggling across the floor to his side. Each step was agony. The crossbow bolts still protruded from my chest. The blood in my lungs was slowly drowning me.

When I reached him, I shifted forms, buried my hands in his fur, and shook his shoulders.

“Shay! Shay!” Even as I clung to him, I could feel strength ebbing from my limbs.

“Enchanted bolts; hope you’re enjoying the ride.” Ethan’s gravel-rough voice drew my eyes to the side. He had the crossbow trained on me once more. “Are you the one who turned him?”

My chest was on fire, my vision blurred. I nodded and slumped to the floor, rolling alongside Shay.
So this is how I die?
I reached for his hand.

Ethan’s finger tightened on the trigger. A long moan from behind me pulled his eyes away. He gasped, stumbling back. “Kyle?”

I twisted my neck. Through a haze of pain I saw the corpse-like Searcher who’d emerged from one of the paintings ambling toward us, his arms grasping mindlessly at the air in front of him.

“No!” Ethan started toward the lurching body.

The Searcher who had been shouting orders loomed over me, blocking Ethan’s view of the moaning creature.

“Get out of the way, Monroe,” Ethan said. “I have to help him.”

“He’s not your brother, Ethan.” Monroe gripped the other man’s arms. “That isn’t Kyle. Not anymore. Forget him.”

I heard a choked sob as Ethan’s shoulders crumpled.