The Harrowing of Hell, part 12
They didn’t emerge for breakfast until almost noon, yet the whole house seemed sluggish and they had plenty of company in the kitchen. As they arrived, Nick was leaving with Phoebe, the pair of them arm in arm, caught up in an animated debate about forms of exercise; Nick was arguing for jogging, while she seemed to be against. At the table, Kristen sat close to Jaimie and giggled a lot. Derek and Elise weren’t the latest risers; they were lingering over coffee when Alex came in, with Jacob a suspicious thirty seconds behind her. Derek idly wondered what arcane goings-on had taken place during the night.
An air of lazy euphoria hung over the house all day, yet there were pockets of great activity. There were things still to arrange for the ritual and a site to be chosen to enact it. Preparations for the feast were afoot and although Dominick complained ceaselessly at the hijacking of his kitchen, he secretly enjoyed overseeing the work and sharing the witches’ recipes. Strange vats and cauldrons boiled on his stoves, meat was basted and fish steamed, eggs were beaten and cream whipped, and there was a running argument about which herbs to add to which dish, and how much, and whether the seasoning was right. Nick fell foul of the rule that anyone who quoted Macbeth would be ejected from the room; he’d barely mentioned newts’ eyes and frogs’ toes before Alethea seized him by the earlobe and showed him the door, and how to use it.
Time slid away in uneven pieces, fat minutes and thin hours, and Derek moved through it as if in a dream, unable to focus and give anything his full concentration. Elise shared his mood, spending most of the afternoon wandering through the gardens and drifting along the edge of the lake, like a restless spirit.
Derek was surprised when Dominick sounded the gong for dinner; he’d been in the library, scanning through his father’s journal in search of any clues he’d missed that would help them face the Fallen. He splashed some water on his face and found something appropriate to wear - Jacob had declared that the occasion was ‘joyful casual’ - and, although he hurried, he arrived late. They were waiting for him, of course, with the staff hovering to serve the soup and starters, and he muttered his apologies as he slid into the seat at the head of the table. Elise was on his left, a vision in a dress of pale-green lace, yet Alex was no less lovely in something crimson and floaty to his right. Kristen had taken a seat at the far end of the table, still wary of his wrath.
Once again, his expectations were shattered. He’d anticipated a sombre affair, with everyone daunted at the prospect of the forthcoming ritual, but the feast was happy and relaxed. The room was lit only by candlelight - some were scented with calming vanilla and soothing lavender. The food was all excellent, from an odd herb and citrus soup to the centrepiece tagine, a medley of roasted lamb and vegetables on a bed of cous-cous. Derek sampled a little of everything and was particularly taken with two of the offerings, a chicken dish flavoured with dates and almonds, and some cute filo parcels filled with brie and cranberries. Wine had been banned; they drank a fruit cup, a blood-purple tart liquid that tasted of spices and blackcurrants, with just a hint of claret. As the meal progressed, the laughter grew louder and more frequent.
“What did you put in this food, Jeb?” Elise demanded. “No narcotics or hallucinates, I trust?”
“Hey, it’s all organic, guaranteed free of pesticides, pollutants and arcane genetic meddling!” Jacob shrugged. “It contains a plethora of herbs and spices, all beneficial and magically potent. The only disinhibitor we added in any quantity was alcohol and that was mainly to boost the flavours.”
“Blame the atmosphere for our mirth, or the company,” Phoebe said, winking at Nick. “We aren’t drunk, just enchanted!”
The sweet course was served and Derek sat out, letting all the cream and meringue creations pass him by. Dominick and the staff left the desserts and cheeseboard on the table, brought in coffee and herb tea, and withdrew, most to catch the last ferry back to the city. Only the butler stayed on the island overnight, and today he had instructions to lock himself in his room and not come out, no matter what he saw or heard.
Jacob called a halt to the festivities at eleven, suggesting that the company prepare for the ritual. Maia was mistress of the wardrobe, and she issued the Legacy members with ceremonial dress, heavy robes of black brocade that fastened on the left shoulder with silver celtic-knot pins, but otherwise just overlapped at the front. When Nick’s eyes widened in horror, she laughed and showed him the hidden hooks. “Don’t worry - they aren’t as revealing as they look, except in high winds!”
“Uh, what exactly do we wear under them?” Nick asked, still anxious.
“Most men wear T-shirts and shorts, or jeans,” Maia was still grinning. “Us girls are braver - we strip down to our underwear, mostly!”
“We don’t ask you to go sky-clad. We won’t - it’s too cold outside!” Jacob added. “We have a very basic dress code; bare feet, loose hair, only simple ornaments that have magical significance or sentimental meaning to the wearer, and no weapons.”
That earned him a frown - Nick had intended to take his gun along to the party. He took the robe and stalked off in a sulk.
Derek and Elise retreated to his room to change. He unbuckled his watch, but kept the precept’s ring on his finger, and wore the robe over his clothes.
Elise’s robe was green, a clear, lucid shade a fraction darker than her eyes. She went naked under it, combing her hair loose and kicking off her shoes.
“Do you think it’s appropriate to go out like that?” he asked.
“Should I lose the robe?” she reached up to unfasten it. “Let them take it, for there’s more enterprise in walking naked.”
“Maybe not - you’d be too much of a distraction. You have no taboo against nudity, do you?”
“I have no shame. That’s part of the human mind-set, which I don’t have. Most of the time I conform - it’s easier that way - but I do have to consciously remember to do it.” she began to adorn herself with jewellery; earrings, a necklace and bracelets all of silver, set with opals and emeralds, and a simple moonstone ring. “Clothes are still a novelty to me - and I like dressing up!”
Derek had never seen her wear so many ornaments. “Hey, chérie, have you been filching jewels again?”
“I had my accomplice do the stealing!” she giggled. “Jacob brought them with him; they belong to Ursula. She wears them as coven priestess, when she calls down the Goddess. I crafted them for her though - all my own work!”
She raised her arms and struck a pose, her hair as bright as fire and the borrowed gems flashing on her breast and about her wrists. Derek held his breath, afraid that she was too lovely to be real, afraid that she might simply vanish and he’d discover that all of this had been a dream.
“It isn’t,” Elise said. “If you’re ready, you go downstairs first. I have to make an entrance - to boost morale, or so Jacob says. He wants me to give the coven a brief pep-talk before we go out.”
“Okay,” Derek planted a swift kiss on her cheek as he passed.
The witches were gathered in the hall, awaiting Derek and his people. They looked different in costume, wilder and more dangerous. With his hair combed out into a wavy mane and his full beard, Jacob had the aspect of a real wizard. Alex had also fluffed her hair out and wore a necklace that Derek didn’t recognise, a pretty amber and silver piece. Nick and Kristen were the last to show, moving clumsily in their borrowed robes.
The company fell silent as Elise came down the stairs. Her flame-red hair stood out in vivid contrast to her robe of elven-green, and her pale skin shone with an inner radiance that rivalled the glitter of all the silver and gemstones she wore. She seemed ethereal and otherworldly, as if she’d shed her human persona along with her clothes. She halted on the fifth step and turned to face them.
“Jacob, as master of this coven, has asked me to say a few words,” by some magic or psychic trick, her voice carried to each of them as if she spoke to them individually, instead of addressing them as an audience. “Some of you know me as Elise, some as Galadriel - tonight I’m acting as your high-priestess. I don’t know what made each of you answer Jacob’s call to this extraordinary meeting of your Circle - loyalty, perhaps, or friendship, or curiosity or even the thrill of playing with danger - whatever the reason, I’m glad that you’re here. The ritual we are about to perform is risky; how could it be safe when it involves calling up fallen angels and opening a gate into hell? Don’t let that depress you. All you need to stand up to evil is a true heart.”
“A little courage helps,” Nick added, when it became clear that she’d finished.
“And an unquenchable will,” Jacob said.
“And a large dose of stubborn bloody-mindedness!” Derek continued.
“How about nerves of steel?” Jaimie wondered. “And a strong stomach and cast-iron bladder?”
Jacob laughed. “Okay, people, that’s enough with the attributes. Let’s up and at ‘em!”
They left the house a little after eleven thirty. It was a clear night, with enough moonlight to see by, and even a sprinkling of stars. The witches had constructed a site for the ritual on one of the lawns close to the house; hours had been spent in argument over exactly where to put it. Maia had talked endlessly about feng shui and Phoebe had dowsed most of the gardens with a pendulum, tracking the dragon-paths and ley lines. Eventually Jacob had cut through all the obscurity, told his people not to be so bloody stupid and chosen the lawn at the south-west end of the terrace.
The wards had been laid out as three concentric circles of coloured sand, the innermost one picked out in black and just large enough to take the sepulchres, ringed closely about by a second in vivid rainbow-hues, surrounded by a much larger outer circle of ochre sand splashed with colour at the cardinal points. Matching candles were set in iron holders at each of the compass points, massive things with three wicks; red in the east, white in the south, grey in the east and black in the north. A portable altar had been set up in the northern part of the outer circle, set with bell, book and candle, and a fancy bronze brazier for incense. The outer wards were still incomplete, broken in the south-west to allow access into the circle.
“Don’t worry about the mess,” Jacob said. “The sand vacuums up a treat and we’ll scoop up any spilt wax. We’re masters of black-ops, us witches - in and out again without leaving a trace.”
“What do you think?” Jaimie asked.
“It looks fine,” Derek was impressed at how hard they’d worked, how much they’d thrown themselves into a cause not their own. “All we lack now are the druids’ boxes - I’ll fetch them.”
Derek had intended to move all the sepulchres himself, not wanting the witches to touch them, but Nick appeared at his elbow as he opened the vault, and the silent man was behind him.
“You don’t have to do this, either of you...”
“One volunteer is better than ten pressed men,” Nick grinned and the silent man winked. “You’ve got two.”
They brought the druids’ arks out one at a time and Derek placed them in the inner circle, mindful not to disturb the sand. Jacob checked the integrity of the wards and declared them sound. All that remained was to bring out the keys; Derek did and called the members of his house to him as he unlocked the case. He took the pierced iron key, the one that belonged to the sepulchre that imprisoned the demon that had taken his father.
“That’s mine,” Elise said, as Nick reached towards the jade key.
“Why?”
“Because it goes with my eyes,” the silversmith hung it around her neck.
Nick frowned. “Give it back to me - I have sentimental reasons for choosing that key.”
“Because Julia once wore it?” her smile was all sympathy. “All the more reason for me to have it, with such unlucky associations.”
“We’re wasting time,” Derek nudged Nick. “Take another.”
The ex-SEAL did, picking the key to Azazel’s sepulchre. Alex selected one from the final pair and then Kristen gingerly claimed the last one.
“It’s almost the witching hour of the night,” Jacob reminded. “Are you ready? Are you resolved to go on with this?”
Elise glanced at Derek. He took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
Jacob whistled to the witches and led all of them into the circle. Derek followed, then Elise, and the others crept after. Jaimie and Phoebe were in charge of the sand; they poured it skilfully to close up the gap. Leigh and Maia moved deosil around the circumference, lighting all of the candles, and then kindled the incense in the brazier. Hot, sweet smoke curled slowly up towards the stars, smelling of cinnamon, honey and sandalwood.
“Move to the right around the circle, sunwise,” Jacob snapped, pointing at Kristen, who was straying. “We aren’t Satanists here, setting a curse!”
He pulled a sack from beneath the altar - with his black robe, long hair and beard, he looked to Derek like a dark Santa - and from it he produced a wide silver cup that brought to mind Tania’s fake grail, except that it was decorated in harmony with the opal and emerald theme. Jacob handed it to Elise and filled it with wine. Next out of the sack was a flat silver platter inscribed with a pentacle which Jacob presented to Alex.
“What do I do with this?” she asked.
“Just hold it upright, like this,” he adjusted her grip and aligned the object. “It’s a powerful weapon - use it as a shield to ward off evil or as a mirror to turn magical attacks.”
The third object was a either a short staff or a long wand depending on your perspective, with spiral carvings at its blunt end. Derek knew that it would be made of rowan wood, the bane of demons and malevolent spirits. Jacob kept it, then pulled the final item from the bag, a dagger as long as his forearm, with an ebony hilt and a silver blade. He offered it to Derek.
At the sight of the weapon, chills crawled along his spine. “No.”
“You may not practise magic yourself, Dr Rayne, but you’re aware of the tools of our craft and their significance,” the warlock said. “She has the cup, which represents your element of water, so, to keep the balance, you must hold the athame, the black knife, the symbol of her element, air. The yin and the yang, male and female - conjoined they bring blessing.”
Derek frowned. “Is that why you have the staff and Alex has the pentacle?”
“What, Dr Rayne, jealous?” Jacob grinned wickedly. “Take the athame and follow me around the circle, three times sunwards to set the charm.”
Derek reluctantly took the dagger. It didn’t bite or cause any disturbing visions. It was a finely-balanced weapon that sat in his left hand as if it had been made for him. The blade was etched with a delicate tracing of runes of some kind and the pommel was studded with green gems in the shape of a star.
Jacob turned to face his people, who had spread out around the circle. Kristen and Nick were looking lost; Derek guessed that those nearest to them would walk them through the ritual. When the warlock spoke his voice carried across the lawn, clear, commanding and so full of music that it made Alex shiver. “Many are called to this path, but few choose to walk beneath the stars. I have summoned you here - are you prepared to do my bidding?”
There was a mixed chorus of shouts of ‘Yes!’ and ‘Aye!’, and the silent man nodded.
“So be it,” Jacob bowed his head. “I call you here to form the Circle of Protection, to watch and ward against the legions of evil and despair. I charge you to stand fast, and not to flee, whatever terrors are called forth under the sky. I ask of you courage and resolute will, that we may face this danger and overcome it. In the name of the Goddess, I ask this - are you all resolved to do my will?”
Again came the shouts of assent, louder and more confident this time. The silent man punched the air in a gesture of defiance.
“So mote it be,” Jacob turned to face the altar. He swung his staff in a loop above his head, touched its tip to the ground, then dipped it in the cup of water standing next to the brazier and waved it through the smoke. “You ancient elemental powers four-fold, with magic dire this rowan stem instil; so be it vessel for my holy will, and ‘gainst all fearful things this spell shall hold!”
Oh great, improvisation! Derek thought. Less boring than the traditional cant, just as long as it works.
It’ll work! he heard Elise chuckle inside his head.
Jacob set off around the circle, the tip of his staff three inches above the outer wards. Derek knew the theory - the warlock was visualising a flow of energy from the magical weapon to form a psychic barrier around the circle. He followed, using the knife to do the same. On their third circuit, Maia came with them, carrying the bell, and Alethea too, with a joss-stick lit from the incense; at each of the cardinal points they halted, the bell was struck three times and the sweet smoke wafted in the air as Jacob invoked the guardian spirits of the circle.
“I summon, stir and call you, twilight spirits of the mist-grey west. I beg your presence, you noon-day spirits of the white, burning south. I invite you, gentle spirits of the east, keepers of the rosy dawn, and I invoke you, midnight spirits of the dark, powerful north - hedge this circle with your might and keep it safe!”
Maia set the bell back on the altar and Jacob turned his attention to the centre circles, drawing his wand around the rainbow. Derek followed dutifully.
“Three times round to craft the charm - all evil bound, to do no harm. From heaven’s vault to hell’s foul deep - watch and ward eternal keep!” he paused for an instant, shaking his head as if dizzy. “The circle’s cast. Now, taste of the wine and accept the protection of the Goddess.”
The witches filed around the circle, all sipping from the cup as Elise offered it to them. When they were done, she served Alex, Jacob and Derek last of all. He noticed that she didn’t drink, but emptied the rest of the wine out in a dark pool under the altar.
“That’s our bit done,” Jacob said, with his crooked smile. “The show’s all yours, Dr Rayne.”
Derek hesitated. There was no magic here, no flow of power. He felt nothing, just the light breeze of an ordinary night and the dusky silence of the gardens. The ritual had been empty, devoid of any significance, mere stagecraft.
“What do you want, the full lightshow?” Elise touched his arm. “Don’t fret, chéri - that’s still to come.”
Derek stepped up to the inner circle. “The keys. Put them in the locks and turn them - but be very careful not to touch the sand!”
Nick obeyed without hesitation. Kristen’s hands shook as she followed suit. Alex glanced at Derek in the vain hope he’d had a change of heart; when she saw he hadn’t, she sighed and turned the key. Elise slipped the jade key into its lock, then Derek, holding his breath, put the final key into place and twisted it round. They all stepped back hurriedly, retreating towards the altar.
Nothing happened.
“Merde!” Elise muttered. “Jacob, call the bastards out!”
The warlock shuffled his feet. “You sure that’s a good idea, Lisi?”
“Summon them.”
Jacob lifted the wand and smacked it down hard on the nearest sepulchre. “Wake, foul fiend! I conjure thee, in the name of the Triple Goddess, Maiden, Mother and Hag! I command thee - come forth!”
A thin blue mist began to spill out of the aperture in the lid of the sepulchre, rising in a languid spiral, then the same thing happened to the next box and the next, widdershins around the pentagon, until all five were pouring out cobalt fog. Derek went cold and, on the far side of the circle, one of the girls squealed.
“Stand fast!” Jacob warned. “Our will is strong - it will prevail.”
There were cries of alarm from all around the circle as the five sepulchres moved of their own volition, snapping into place to form the portal into Hell. White corpse-light blazed through it, rising in a pale corona and falling back again, as the freed Watchers assumed their grotesque skeletal shapes.
“No!” Jacob yelled, jabbing the air with his wand. “Stop! Come not in that form - I command thee! Come in a fairer shape, in the name of the Goddess!”
“You’re crazy!” Alex whispered. “They won’t listen..!”
“Not a cat’s chance in hell..!” Nick echoed.
The Fallen swirled between solidity and mist, then shaped themselves into dark cowled shadows. They lurked on the rim of the portal, which waxed and waned with an eldritch radiance. Nothing emerged from the infernal regions and Derek began to hope that Lucifer would keep his word.
One edged forwards, the leader of the five. It spoke in a low, ugly voice, full of unnatural subsonics. “You dare to command us? You dare to call us as if we were common imps? What you have summoned is your own death!”
The Watcher surged towards them and, as it tried to cross the inner circle, the wards sparked with golden fire, hurling the hideous creature back. Derek squinted through the moonlight; now he saw the mystical barriers they’d created as arcs of saffron luminescence, auras of power that the Fallen couldn’t cross.
“Maybe not,” Jacob said, watching the spectre right itself. “You can’t reach us - you’re trapped in that circle...”
“Only while your pathetic spell holds, warlock!”
“Which is all the time we need!” Derek declared. “So, Azazel - remember me?”
The figure turned to face him. “Rayne,” the echoing voice rang with contempt. “Why have you done this?”
“You know why,” Elise said.
All five of the Fallen swayed at the sound of her voice, muttering in wordless menace. Azazel growled. “You we know! Star-child, sun-spawn, interfering bitch! What is your part in this?”
“Don’t waste our time pretending ignorance!” Derek snapped. “You hold a soul in your keeping, the soul of my friend - return him!”
“Is that all this is about, that trifle, that piece of detritus..?”
“If you think that little of him, give him back!” Elise demanded.
“And if we do not, what then?” Azazel hung in the air, a malign shadow against the lambent flame of the portal. “Will you attempt to take him from us?”
Derek, Elise leaned close as if she whispered to him, yet her voice was only in his head. Use the athame to pierce the inner wards and call Sloan’s name - that will free him.
Are you sure?
Pray that I am!
Jacob somehow sensed their exchange and staged a distraction. He flailed the wand, struck a dramatic pose and claimed Azazel’s attention. “Don’t think that we won’t fight you, demon! We aren’t afraid of you!” he waved his free hand at Alex, bringing her into the act. “Use the pentacle, girl! Zap them with it!”
Alex moved the dish around in a threatening fashion, feeling like an idiot, and as the silver flashed in the moonlight, Derek dived forwards.
“Sloan!” he cried, carving a foot-long slash in the invisible wall. A shower of molten gold sparks burst out of the tear and fizzed on his skin. “William Sloan! Come out!”
He saw nothing, felt nothing tangible. Elise let out a cry of delight and leapt into the air, one hand outstretched as if to touch an invisible, insubstantial fragment of something as it fled into the night. Azazel howled in fury and flung itself at the rift in the circle. For one terrible, elastic moment it seemed that the Watcher would break through the fragile boundary, and Derek recoiled, afraid that his drastic action had freed the evil again. The wards held - with a blaze of fire, the magic bounced the fallen angel back.
“Miserable human!” Azazel fumed. “We will rend your soul! We will shatter this feeble cage and devour all of you..!”
“Be silent!” Elise said, acidly. “We’re done with you. Go back into your boxes.”
“Go back?” the loathsome figure that was Azazel appeared to swell, such was its rage. “When the armies of Hell issue from this portal, your stupid spell will be crushed! We will tear you to pieces, every one of you - but you, Rayne, you shall die first! She won’t be able to save you then...”
“Hell isn’t coming,” Derek cut in.
The four silent Watchers leaned closer together, joined in unspoken debate, a mass of brooding, virulent darkness.
Azazel hissed in shock. “You made a pact with Hell? You stooped to that, betrayed everything that you hold dear..?”
“How could he?” Elise exclaimed. “I dealt with the Morning-star - I take the credit and the blame.”
Two of the shadowy figures that had been huddled together behind Azazel now edged forward.
“Mortal,” one said, in a shivery voice. The pale glitter of eyes took form in the dark haze where its face should have been, fixing their icy glare on Derek. “Our brother knows your name and bears you enmity, yet we know you also. Were you of the company that harried Hell?”
“Yes, I was there,” Derek was bewildered by the question. “What of it?”
“You know our history. We have been trapped for centuries in these coffins, and for eons before that, in the deeps of the earth,” the voice trembled with pain, with immeasurable torment. “Have we not suffered enough?”
“What?” Elise laughed. “You would ask us to free you?”
“You made your descent into Hell on a mission of mercy,” the Watcher still directed his words to Derek. “Is there no redemption for us?”
“Our sin was so small, that we dared to feel a forbidden emotion,” the other shadow added. “Cast out of Heaven for love - where’s the justice in that?”
“Where would you go?” Elise asked. “Heaven won’t take you back.”
“We’ll pass beyond the compass of this world,” the first shadow said. “Many of your kind have taken that path, Star-born, have abandoned this reality for another. Have any returned?”
“There’s no way back,” Elise shrugged. “As for where that path leads, to oblivion or just to another place, I couldn’t say.”
“Then give us leave to go, and we won’t trouble this world again.”
Derek turned to Elise, in a wordless plea for advice, but she shook her head. “I can’t help you, mon cher. Their sin was against your race, not mine. It’s your choice.”
Azazel laughed, a sound that made the hair ripple on Derek’s scalp. “Then you are damned all over again, my brothers! This is a Legacy man, and his kind have no mercy or compassion. If he had the power, he would destroy all of us without a thought, but will he grant your freedom? I think not!”
Alex touched Derek’s shoulder. “You mustn’t trust them! One of them killed your father - and we don’t know which...”
“I remember!” Derek snapped.
Alex recoiled from the pain in his eyes. Why did she always upset him, when she only meant to help? Jacob quietly slipped his free hand around her waist; the contact steadied her.
“We did not kill Winston Rayne,” the second shadow said. “Yet we are not innocent - we have killed mortal men. All of the Eternal have the power to take life or bestow it; that is our nature and even our fall from grace couldn’t strip it from us.”
“Let us bargain with you,” the first shade whispered. “For every life we have taken, we will restore two when you free us from these sepulchres. At each instant of the day or night, tens or even hundreds of mortals hang in the balance between life and death; we can tip the scales so that they fall back into the living world.”
"An act of contrition from a repentant demon?" Jacob laughed at the irony of it.
“Can they do that?” Nick asked.
“Yes,” Elise frowned. “Whether they will or not is a different matter.”
Derek recalled his lover’s own words and threw them back at her. “They were angels once. Perhaps a little of that virtue still remains.”
“You can’t free them!” Alex protested. “What if every word they’ve spoken is a lie?”
“He won’t do it,” Azazel stated, with iron confidence. “The ways of the Legacy are too strong in him, and they do not sanction forgiveness. The only boon they would grant to beings such as us is destruction!”
Derek was aware that Elise was watching him closely, but covertly. There was a strange tension in her, a thread of anxiety that had nothing to do with Hell’s Gate or the Fallen. He was the focus of her fear, and he sensed that she had no inkling of which way he would jump. So, the boot’s on the other foot, and you don’t much care for the feeling of uncertainty, he thought, with a slight smile. Don’t fret, chérie, you’ve schooled this boy well - he won’t fail you.
“I won’t bargain with you,” he told the Fallen. “If you choose to save lives, that’s between you and your own consciences, if the Eternal have such things. I won’t be bribed or tempted by your offer. You can’t buy your freedom from me - it’s a gift freely given. Go - you have my leave to depart!”
The two shadows cried out in joy and amazement, a scrap of song so sweet, so holy that Time itself stopped to listen. There was a burst of white light, like a flashbulb popping, and two sudden, sharp sounds, like gunshots. Two of the sepulchres split into pieces. The bronze key glowed dull red and melted, dripping onto the wet earth like wax. The jade key fell into dust and blew away on the breeze. Derek shared Elise’s thoughts, clear and distinct, as if he was the mind-reader; C’est fini! Now all we have to do is shut the portal!
Azazel screamed in pure demonic fury. With his heightened senses, Derek immediately realised why - without all five sepulchres, the portal was useless. If they could shut it this time, it would remain sealed for all eternity.
A small whirlwind swept widdershins around the circle, killing all the candles and breaking the line of coloured sand. Derek felt the flux of energy as the wards collapsed - it hit him as a dull, forlorn thud in the solar plexus.
“No!” Jacob yelled, holding the rowan staff out like a spear. “You are held by our collective will, compelled to stay within the circle...!”
“Idiot mortal!” Azazel assumed his skeletal form. “For that, you can die first!”
Elise stepped between them. The whirlwind caught her hair, spreading it out around her like a fiery halo. She spoke five words very quietly, under her breath, then she was cloaked in fire, bright golden tongues of it. She raised her arms and it seemed to Derek that she had wings of flame. As the three Watchers surged forwards, she hurled the vicious, burning curtain into their path. Azazel hit it first, his triumphant laughter twisting into cries of pain as the fire enveloped him. His two brothers tried to turn back, but the flames wound about them, eating away at their bones. The Fallen fled, wrapped in a wicked blanket of fire. They had nowhere to retreat, nowhere to hide but their sepulchres and Elise used her elemental weapon to drive them back into confinement. Within seconds, they were trapped and the last remnants of the fire flickered over the grass.
“The keys!” Derek shouted, stumbling forwards.
Nick started to move towards the sepulchres, just as the keys turned in the locks, twisted by an invisible hand.
There was a moment of silence, then Kristen spoke. “Is it over?”
“Not yet,” Derek said. “The portal is still open.”
Elise turned to face him. Little sparks danced in her hair, yet her green eyes glowed brighter. “Now comes the hardest part, chéri. Only blood will shut Hell’s Gate - use mine. Kill me.”
“No..!” All of the fragments fell into place - the phrases he’d only partly understood, the angry reactions of her friends, her initial premonition... Derek cursed himself for being so blind. “You knew this would happen, right from the start! You saw it!”
“Oui, bien sûr...”
Jacob moved between them. “I’m the alien here, the one who doesn’t belong. If anyone has to die, it ought to be me...”
“No!” Alex squealed, taking a grip on the warlock’s arm and trying to drag him back. He resisted, digging his heels in.
“I didn’t ask for volunteers!” Elise snapped. “This isn’t open for debate. We don’t have time. The longer this portal remains open, the more certain it is that the demonic hordes will break through - and I can’t keep the lid on Hell for ever!”
“I won’t kill you!” Derek protested.
“What other option do we have?” Elise said. "Do it now."
The ebony-hilted knife felt like lead in his hand, a dreadful weight dragging his arm down. "I can't..!"
"You have to," she raised her chin, tilting her head back. "Please, Derek... "
He slashed at her wildly, but his aim was good enough and the wickedly-sharp blade bit into her throat. She didn't flinch as he struck her and there was no fear in her eyes, only an absolute, terrifying calm. She even smiled as she fell, twisting her body so that her blood gushed out over the sepulchres, a great wave of it, her life pouring away like a surge of molten gold.
"No!" he staggered back, the knife slipping through his numb fingers and tumbling end over end in the eternity before it hit the floor.
He was never quite sure what happened next. There was a sunburst of vivid fire and a furious gust of wind, a desert dust-devil as hot as a furnace, laced with sand and the scent of spices. The vortex of the portal spun back on itself, like the poor serpent swallowing its own tail, corkscrewing away into nothing. Then there was only silence and darkness and Elise's body sprawled across the two broken sepulchres.