Chapter Twenty-Two: Fate

I pounded my fist against the door of Tome Traders.

“Mr. Peters!”  I shouted.

Please still be here.  Please still be here. I prayed.

I raised my hand and pounded on the door again.  Just as I struck it for the third time, the door swung open and Mr. Peters peeked out at me with bewilderment in his soft brown eyes.

“Sophia?  What are you doing standing out in the rain?”  His eyes drifted down to the golden sword I held at my side.  “No commoner carries such weapons…”

“I have no time to explain!”  I stepped inside and Mr. Peters shut the door again.  “You know Dragon Valley better than anyone.  Are there catacombs beneath the city?”

“They retreated to the lowest level of the city.”  Regan had said.  It was my only clue as to where she had gone.

“Catacombs?”  Mr. Peters scratched his head.  “Well yes, there are Catacombs.  Beneath city hall, commissioned for by the Mithrilen family in 1839 to serve as the burial place for-!”

“Do you have a map?”  I asked, already hurrying towards the back of the bookstore.

“Yes… yes of course.”  Mr. Peter stammered, rushing ahead of me and rummaging through the shelves.

I paced back and forth as I waited for him to locate the correct book.  The longer he took, the harder my heart pounded.

BOOM!

An explosive crack of thunder shook the building.  I whirled around, clasping my sword in both hands.

When the lightning faded, it was replaced by a new light.  The raindrops that battered against the window changed, taking on a soft green glow. 

My grip on my sword loosened, and I stepped forward, my eyes widening in disbelief.  “What sorcery is this?”

 I heard pages rustle and a book snap shut.  Then, Mr. Peters appeared at my side, his mouth drawn into a taunt line.

“Bewitching rain.”  he whispered, shaking his head.  “I’ve only read about it.  The atmosphere has been charged with an overpowering volume of residual magic.  There must be a large group of spellcasters practicing their arts nearby…”

He held out a book to me, his finger still tucked between the pages.  I opened the book to the page he marked and saw an extensive series of maps, precisely what I had been looking for.

 “… or one very powerful spellcaster.”  Mr. Peters murmured, tapping his fingers to his lips.  “Very… very powerful.”

I fought to swallow down the bile rising up in my throat.  Was I too late?  Did this rain mean the Lucians had already cast the curse?

I shut the book and yanked the front door open.  Immediantly, I was assaulted by a storm of the cracking green rain.  I gasped, and fell backward.  Every single drop felt as though it were charged with electricity.

I took a moment to catch my breath.  Then, biting my lip, I held my sword arm out and let the rain pour over it.  It was as if a hundred pins and needles danced across my skin.  The sensation was strange, and startling, but not unbearable.  I gripped my sword in both hands and stepped into the doorway.

I turned back to look at Mr. Peters.  “Thank you.  I-!”  My voice broke with emotion and I was forced to stop and swallow down the sob that threatened to burst from my throat.  “I do not believe I ever properly thanked you for everything that you have done for me.  For the job… and the books…  I love you dearly, Mr. Peters.  I wanted you to know that… before… before…”

Mr. Peters stared at me with the same lost, far-off look in his eyes that I had seen a hundred dozen times.  I sighed, my sword arm dropped back down to my side.

A hundred horrible images flashed through my mind.  Daria’s lush green leaves turned shriveled and brown.  Nirina’s scales blistered and bleeding from thirst.  The round baby faces of Bowen and Gawain turned gaunt and pale.

“Promise me… promise me you will be strong no matter what happens.”  I said, lifting my eyes up to Mr. Peters.  “That you will take care of and watch over my children as you did for me?  I… I am not sure that I…”

I could not force the words from my mouth.  Mr. Peters remained silent.

“Mr. Peters?  Can you promise me?”

I wanted him to say something.  Anything.  But he just stood there staring at me.  A crease appeared in the space between his brows.

I shuddered, and squeezed my eyes shut, stepping out into the rain.

“For that time it was his destiny to die…”  His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

I stopped, turning back to him.  He leaned up against a bookcase, his eyes closed.

“…or, as some say, to be carried off to Avilion, where he could wait for better days.”

“T. H. White.”  I said softly.

He smiled, his eyes still closed.

“Here lies Arthur, king once and king to be.  The Once and Future King.  I've always loved that part of Arthurian lore… the part that says though he is dead, he will one day return to complete his mission.  It leaves the ending open.  An odd thought, isn’t it?  That a mythological figure might return from the grave, and have a second chance.”

I blinked, and my lips parted.  I almost spoke, but despite the racing thoughts that flooded my mind, I had no words.  His eyes cracked open, and his small, delicate smile widened just a sliver.

He knew.

"Yes... impossible.”  I said at last.

 His head moved, just a tad, from side to side.  That knowing smile returned to his face.

“Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” he whispered.

I clasped my hand to my mouth, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes.  Until that moment, I had not realized how much I longed to share this part of myself with him.  There were a hundred questions I wanted to ask him.  How long had he known?  How had he figured it out?  And what did he mean? 

KA-BOOM!

The heat and light seemed to strike an instant before the overpowering noise.  I whirled around and saw a tower of light and smoke surging up from somewhere near city hall.  I spared one glance backwards at Mr. Peters.  His serene expression was gone, he clasped both hands to his ears and stared back at me with wide eyes.

“Goodbye…”  I whispered, stepping backwards and plunging into the storm.

The electric rain striking my skin sent shivers up my spine.  I clutched the book of maps close to my hammering heart, and ducked my head down.  The water rushing down the street now lapped at my ankles, and took on a sick, almost radioactive, green radiance. 

Through the downpour, I could still make out the familiar shadows of town square.  That ridiculous golden statue shimmered with the light of the rain.  I spotted Regan’s car crookedly parked next to the curb, the headlights still on.

My heartbeat quickened.  I surged forward and slammed into the back of the vehicle.  My hands fumbled for the handle.

“Evangeline!”  I screamed.

I threw open the trunk.  Empty.

A rumble shuddered beneath my feet.  I looked up just in time to see a flickering column of light appear behind the statue.  I walked towards it, my breath caught in my throat.

In the back corner of one of the garden plots, a large space had been cleared.  When I grew closer, I could see that the bushes and trees had been reduced to smoking heaps of ash. 

The smell wormed its way into my lungs.

The forest in flames.  My village an inferno.  Mother.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.  My feet gingerly trod through the charred remains of the garden.

At the center of the smoking brush, there was a pair of open trapdoors, and a stairway that lead down into darkness.  The smell of smoke was even stronger within.

I took one step down at a time.  Light flashed on the steps from beneath the staircase.  As I descended, the sound of the storm faded away and was replaced by the sound of magic crackling from some distant place.

Safe from the onslaught of the rain, I opened the book Mr. Peters had given me.  I held it up to the light of the torches that lined the walls.  The air in the tunnel turned colder the deeper I descended.  The sounds that echoed against the walls grew closer.

My foot hit something soft and I stumbled.  I dropped the book with an oath.  I had tripped over a body.

It was a woman.  I had never seen her before.  I brushed her dark hair from her neck and felt for a pulse.  There was nothing, and her neck was cold.  Her eyes were open and vacant, staring at me with the same icy blue irises as Constantine.  I shuddered, stepping around her and searching along the floor for the book.

I saw another body just a few feet away.  A man.  I caught sight of a third as I lifted myself to my feet.  I held my breath, my sword gripped in one hand and the book of maps in the other.

A new sound was echoing against the walls.  Raised voices.  One high-pitched, another rough, and still a third that blended in between them.  A shot rang out like cannon fire and the hallway was flooded in green light.  I froze, my fingers tensing around my sword.

One of the bodies on the floor moaned.  I gave a start.  The body shifted, and I saw that it had frosted sapphire hair.

“Regan!”  I hoisted her up into my arms. 

Her eyelids fluttered.  “He’s… too powerful…”  She coughed.  Blood dripped from her mouth.

“Who is?  Constantine?”  I glanced behind me, in the direction of the flashing light.  “Where is Evangeline?”

Regan closed her eyes, her head shook from side to side. “I’m so sorry, Sophia. I tried… I tried to catch her...”

That fiendish little imp!  I thought scornfully, even as my stomach twisted with fear.  I turned back to Regan, my grip on the sword loosening as I bent to inspect her abdomen.  “Where are you injured?”

“Stop…”  Regan murmured.  She pushed my hands away.  When I tried again, she seized my arm with an iron grip.  Her eyes were wide with fright.  “Leave me!  You have to stop him!”

At that moment, there was another rumble in the floor. The hall was illuminated with light. A shrill scream echoed among the raised voices.

A little scream I knew too well.

“Evangeline.”  I whispered.

I bolted upright, clutching my sword in both hands.  Regan’s body slumped to the floor and the book of maps thudded down next to her.  I took off running down the corridor, closer and closer to the light.

“Evangeline!”  I screamed, bursting into a room at the end of the corridor.

Someone attacked me from behind, her arms going for my throat.  I whirled around and ran her through, casting her body off to the side.  I turned, and there was a wand pointed in my direction.  I swept my blade through it, sending its sparking pieces to the floor, and slammed my fist into the face of the wizard who held it.

“Mommy!”  I heard a cry across the room.

My little girl stood shaking in Constantine’s shadow.  He squeezed both of her forearms in his massive, calloused hands.

A sly smile curled at the corners of his lips.  “Well… isn’t this interesting.”

From the center of the room, a low, rough voice spoke.  Every word quivered with rage.  “What is she doing here?”

I stared back at my daughter’s wide eyes, and then focused on Constantine’s hands clenched around her arms.  Both hands.  He was not practicing magic.  Then who…?

I turned, my eyes darting around the room.  Gaia stood in front of an open tome, her jade eyes narrowed at me.  Quintessa was just a few feet away, her wand at the ready.  At the back of the room, in front of a boiling cauldron, was a woman I did not recognize.

Hundreds of candles formed a circle on the floor, and in the center of them…

“Quintessa.”  the rough voice spoke again.  The towering figure in the center of the room squeezed his hand into a fist and the veins that lined his muscled arms bulged out.  “What. Is. She. Doing.  Here.”

I ceased to breathe.  My eyes were locked on the tattoos that encircled his arms.  His skin was a tapestry of claws and teeth.  The heads and tails of dragons were intertwined on his shoulders and wrapped around his wrists.

Quintessa shook her head, her mouth open.  “I… I can dispose of her, my Lord.  Please, continue the ritual…”

But her wand made no move towards me.

 “You told me you would take care of her.”  The man in the center of the room said, turning as he did.  “That was the only reason I agreed to this!”

He looked different without his elegant suit and his finely combed hair.  Like some deeper, more feral side of him had been unleashed.  But staring at him now, it was hard to believe I had ever known him any other way.  The rich young bachelor had been nothing but a façade.

“Thane!”  Gaia snapped, drawing her wand out.  Her eyes were on me.  “The ritual!  We only have until-!”

Thane shoved out his hands and light exploded from his fingertips.  Quintessa was blown off her feet and sent hurtling into the wall.  Every inch of the room crackled with magic.  I felt the energy send tremors through my bones.

He had no wand.

“Stop!”  Gaia screamed.  “Stop it!”

Her voice sounded like it came from the end of a long dark tunnel.  I took an instinctive step backward, my eyes trailing up the walls as tendrils of green mist floated up to the cavern roof.  The flashing in the catacombs, the residual magic turning the rain outside into a bewitching storm of horror, it had all been him.

My lungs were constricting into my chest, my blood turning to ice in my veins.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter!”  Quintessa shouted, coughing and sputtering as she lifted herself from the floor.  “Kitsune was nothing but a greedy lunatic!  We all knew it!  Tell him, father!”

I was screaming for my feet to move, but they would not budge.  I was paralyzed.  I could not breathe, but I still smelled smoke.

“Shut up!”  Thane shouted.  His hands went up again, and once again Quintessa was blasted into the wall.

His eyes.  Those fiery eyes that had always brewed unease in the pit of my stomach.

“Enough!”  Gaia pointed at me with her wand.  “Kyra… get rid of her!”

The young red-haired witch in the back started forward, her wand drawn.

“No!”  Thane held his arm out in front of the red-haired witch. 

His mouth curled into a blood-chilling wry smile.  He glared down at me, and I was entrapped in the heat of his eyes. 

“I’m going to kill you again.”

How could I have ever forgotten those eyes?

“Emrys.” I breathed.