The Blood Binding (6 page)

Steve stumbled again, but
didn’t fall. He rounded the final corner, the Spirits of the Black Water had
enveloped his body, and were grasping and writhing so that his face was the
only part of him still visible. Belladonna could see his jaw tighten as he
sprinted the last few yards as the final drips of the binding potion fell from
the bottle and joined the first. He dropped to the ground, gasping and
coughing. The binding should have been complete, yet still the shadows
screamed. Belladonna knew she couldn’t stop speaking.

“…attorlathe, stune…”

Steve rolled over.

“Why hasn’t it worked?” His
voice was a rasping gasp.

“You must bind it,” whispered
Branwyn, her voice barely audible. “You must bind it.”

“…wegbrade, maethe, stune…”

Belladonna stopped. Mrs. Jay
had been wrong, this
did
need the Spellbinder. It
did
need Words
of Power, just not ancient Sumerian ones. It needed English words. English
words to imprison the worst of the Old Magic of England in this ground forever.

“This is a seal of the Old
Times,” she yelled, each word coming faster than the one before. “A vexation to
fear, a mortification to pain, a shackle to disease and despair. It has power
against three and against thirty, against the hand of a fiend and the spell of
vile creatures. It has might against the onflying, it binds you here until the
seas slip apart, until the sky falls away, until the earth beneath the feet of
men turns to salt. This spell is bound, the Spirits of the Black Water are
bound, the ground beneath them is bound, the air above them is bound. All is
bound and will not be undone. By the power of Nantosuelta, who is the Queen of
the Abyss, and the power of the Spellbinder, you shall move not, live not, die
not!”

She stopped. That was all.
She hoped it was all…that it was enough. She could sense Steve and Elsie
staring at her, their mouths hanging open, and she could feel the crowd of
ghosts watching and waiting behind her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off
the Spirits of the Black Waters.

The screaming stopped first.
Then the roaring whine that had followed Steve around the parade ground. Then
the spirits themselves split apart and flew, swirling into the sky, only to
recombine and like an arrow shoot towards the ground, vanishing beneath the
muddy grass with a mighty groan.

The crowd of ghosts cheered
and applauded.

“That was amazing,” said a
man in a smart suit.

“Fantastic,” enthused a 1920s
Flapper, the fringe on her dress swaying as she ran to congratulate the live
girl.

“You must be a mighty seer to
your people,” said the man who had asked about the binding.

“Thank you,” said Belladonna,
suddenly feeling very shy. “It was nothing. Steve had the hard part.”

“Best Halloween
ever
,”
said a girl who looked an awful lot like Jane Austen.

“Seriously, Belladonna,” said
Steve, scrambling to his feet, “that was even better than the standing stones
thing!”

“It would’ve been better with
a few “thees” and “thous,” though,” said Elsie. “Maybe a “begone” or two as
well. More Shakespearian.”

“But I’m not Shakespeare,”
said Belladonna, feeling a tiny bit deflated.

“Well, thank goodness for
that,” said Steve, laughing. “I wouldn’t have understood a word you said!”

The crowd were still talking
and laughing when a small voice broke through the cacophony.

“I’m free.”

Belladonna whirled around.
For a moment she’d forgotten why they were there. It was for Branwyn, the girl
who had been sacrificed, who had spent two thousand years, wet and muddy and
protecting the world from the Spirits of the Black Water.

She was still sitting on the
railway tie, but the mud and water had gone. She was holding her hands up and
staring at them. Staring at the pale skin she must have forgotten she ever had.
She turned to Belladonna, her face flushing with joy and her eyes a sparkling
blue. The linen dress was white again and the flowers fresh in her hair, which
turned out to be light brown, not red at all.

She stood up and flung
herself at Belladonna, but fell right through her.

“You’re free,” explained
Elsie. “Not alive.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care.
This is…how do I get to…to…”

“Um…actually, I don’t know,”
said Elsie. “I seem to remember someone helped me. I’m not sure how it’s done.
Not the first time.”

She looked toward the crowd
expectantly.

“A charnel sprite showed me
the way,” said the smart-suited man.

“Me too,” said the Flapper.

Most of the others agreed and
started discussing their own experiences, and how nice it was to get some tea
and cake and relax a bit underground with the charnel sprites after all the
fuss of their funerals.

They were still comparing
notes when the bushes next to the parking lot started rustling and a small
purplish man stepped out onto the gravel. Silence fell over the crowd.

“Perhaps I can be of help,”
said the purpleish man. “I received word from regional head office that there
might be someone in need of a guide for the initial journey.”

“Yes,” said Belladonna,
stepping forward. “That was Aya. We spoke last night.”

“Oh, right,” said Steve, “and
I was the one who stayed up too late.”

“I visited the graveyard for
five minutes, I didn’t stay up all night watching a zombie flick!”

“What’s…I mean who…?” Branwen
was staring at the newcomer, confused and a little worried.

“This is…I’m sorry, I don’t
know your name,” said Belladonna, anxious to do things properly.

“I am Nolo, and I will be
your charnel sprite.”

“This is Branwyn,” said
Belladonna. “She’s been waiting for two thousand years.”

“Well, then, we’d better get
going,” said Nolo. “It is my job to show you the way to the Other Side, young
lady. Unless you’d prefer to stay for a party? There are a great many of them
tonight, you know.”

“Does the sun shine on the
Other Side?”

“Almost all the time, I
believe.”

“Then I’d like to go. I’d
like to be warm again.” She turned to Belladonna and Steve. “Thank you. Thank
you both. I didn’t think it would work. But…oh, I wish I could touch you!”

“Perhaps you’ll meet again,”
said Elsie, helpfully. “When they’re over on our side, you can hug to your
heart’s content…if you’re that sort of person. It’s not very British, you know,
all that display of emotion.”

Branwyn smiled.

“I don’t care,” she said.
“I’ve waited a long time.”

Nolo held out his hand and
led Branwyn gently back toward the bushes. She glanced back, her eyes shining.

“Goodbye! And thank you.
Thank you all!”

The crowd of ghosts applauded
again, then started wandering away in small groups, still chatting excitedly
about what they’d just seen. Belladonna watched until Branwyn and Nolo had
vanished into the thicket, then picked up her backpack and turned back to Steve
and Elsie. Steve brushed himself off and shrugged on his jacket.

“Right,” said Elsie. “Shall
we go?”

“Go?” said Steve. “Where?”

“Why to Belladonna’s house,
of course.”

“My house? What for?”

“Well, partly because I’ve
never seen it and it’s Halloween, so I can,” said Elsie. “But mostly for the
party.”

“What party?”

“Oh, you are dense! The party
your mother’s been planning for months.”

“So that’s why she hasn’t
been home so much?”

“I think this might be a
‘duh’ moment, Belladonna,” said Steve, grinning.

“Did you know?”

“No, of course not. But it
makes sense. Come on, I think there’s a bus in a few minutes.”

“A bus?” said Elsie,
excitedly. “An omnibus? Oh, how spiffing! My parents would never use them. They
said they were--”

“Yes, we know,” said
Belladonna and Steve, laughing. “
Vulgar.
”