Juliet Dark - The Angel Stone

About twenty of my students had resisted my homesickness spell and stayed—or, rather, they hadn’t had to resist the spell, because they had found a new home with their friends here at college. As they filled my house with laughter and loud voices, the smells of apple cider and fresh-baked goodies, I realized they’d turned my house into a home, too. I didn’t want to leave it, but as it drew closer to midnight I knew I had to. I waited until they were all in the living room playing a game of fishbowl (a version of charades that allowed talking—or at the moment some kind of wolfish howling), and I slipped out the front door.

A chill wind bit into my skin as I left the warmth of the house. I wrapped my wool tartan shawl tighter around my shoulders and hurried down the steps before I could change my mind and turn back. The howling and laughter from inside already sounded far away and from a different world. I was alone in the cold and dark …

Or not quite alone.

Something squeaked at my feet. I knelt and picked up Ralph. Someone had tied an orange ribbon around his neck. “Thanks, little guy. But are you sure you don’t want to stay here and cadge some caramel apples?”

But as I looked up at the house, I saw that neither of us was going back. Three sentries stood on the front porch—an ancient stooped woman in a black dress, a tall redheaded man in patched jeans and a flannel shirt, and a black cat grown to the size of a panther—my jack-o’-lanterns kindled into life.

“You’ll watch over them?” I asked, worried about my unsuspecting students.

The witch, scarecrow, and cat inclined their heads in assent.

“All right, then,” I said, slipping Ralph into my skirt pocket.

I started to go, but the scarecrow stepped forward and handed me a lit lantern like the one Adelaide had held.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the light from his hand. Then I turned and headed into the woods.

The needfire lit my way through the woods, its glow carrying a little bit of the warmth I’d left behind in my home. And not just the warmth of my home but the combined goodwill of the community. Its glow split the darkness and sent the shadows skittering off the path into the woods. I knew that some of the creatures were the ones who had been trapped here when the door closed. They were most likely watching me to see if I’d be successful in opening the hallow door, waiting for a chance to slither through the door before they perished without Aelvesgold. I thought of the creatures Volkov said were lurking in the tunnels and in the woods. Mostly I hoped there weren’t nephilim—although the rustle of wings in the branches above me suggested otherwise.

The deeper I went into the woods, the lower the branches were. I was in the honeysuckle thicket, where the bare branches intertwined above my head like bony hands clasped together. The creaking they made as they rubbed against one another sounded like knuckles cracking—or like nephilim flexing their razor-barbed wings.

At each crack, I ducked my head, and I nearly dropped my lantern more than once. I didn’t like to think what would happen if my lantern went out … but of course I did think about it, imagining how quickly the nephilim would be on me, how their barbs would sink into my flesh and mind, how they would suck the marrow out of my bones and my hopes and memories out of my soul. Those monsters don’t just kill you , Frank had said. They make you wish you’d never been born .

I’d miss Frank in the circle, I thought. Moondance had said that Frank was one of the most powerful wizards she’d ever encountered. Would we be strong enough without him? Had Duncan attacked him to take out our most powerful member, so we’d be too weak to succeed without him?

A fluttering above my head made me flinch. I had the sensation that I was being herded down this path to my death—like cattle driven through a chute to slaughter. Once all the remaining witches of Fairwick were gathered in one place, the nephilim would be able to destroy us all …

What if this is a trap?

The question so startled me that I stopped abruptly, caught my foot on a root, and tripped. I slammed hard onto the ground, the lantern rolling away from my hands, glass shattering, its light sputtering …

Darkness rushed in around me with the sound of wings. The nephilim crashed onto my back and dug his claws into the nape of my neck. He took my breath away, and then he started to take my self away. The pointy barbs were in my brain, scraping away its tender parts: memories of my mother and father, Annie, my college boyfriend Paul, Liam, Bill … I could feel them all begin to slip away …

Then I heard a strange yelp. The nephilim’s hold loosened enough for me to twist around to see what was happening. The creature was still straddling my back, but he was sitting up, his hands flailing at something behind him, his wings beating—something was crawling on the wings. Ralph! I saw the flash of tiny sharp teeth. Ralph was biting the nephilim to distract him, but how long would he be able to?

I had to help. I unpinned the Luckenbooth brooch from my shawl and jabbed it into the nephilim’s thigh. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and reared back. I was surprised that it hurt so much—maybe these nephilim weren’t so tough after all. But then the nephilim bared his fangs and I revised my opinion. Those fangs were heading straight for my jugular—and then he was flying backward through the air. The nephilim landed on his back, wings pinned beneath him, Anton Volkov crouched on his chest. The vampire’s fangs were bared, his eyes flashing red in the fire’s glow …

Fire?

I looked behind me and saw the honeysuckle thicket in flames, kindled by my broken lantern. The fire was quickly spreading from the ground up to the arching canopy. Soon we’d be encased in a fiery tunnel.

“Go!” Anton hissed. “I can’t hold him forever. Go to the circle.”

It startled me to realize that Anton couldn’t kill the nephilim. We needed the angel stone to do that—which meant I needed to get to the circle and open the hallow door.

“Will you be all right?” I asked.

Anton’s amber eyes flicked to mine. Reflecting the fire, they seemed huge and inhuman—a tiger’s eyes. “Your concern is touching,” he said hoarsely. “I will … manage. Now … go! ” He roared the last word, putting some compulsion into it, which got me to my feet and had me running down the path before I remembered that Ralph was no longer with me. But it was too late to go back, even if I had been able to resist Anton’s compulsion. Ralph was forged in fire; he’d find a way out—but I might not. The fire raced with me, devouring dry wood like a hungry animal. At least I no longer needed a lantern to light my way. The woods were bright with the clear orange glow of the needfire. Above the crackle of the fire, I heard retreating wings. The nephilim couldn’t reach me in my tunnel of fire, but they wouldn’t need to if I burned to death.

When I reached the entrance to the glade, though, I saw a welcome sight. Mac Stewart and his clan stood in a circle around the glade. Every man, each in a flannel shirt bearing the Stewart tartan, stood with his arms stretched out to his sides. Filaments of red, blue, green, and yellow ran from fingertips to fingertips, forming a shimmering plaid hanging in the air. Sparks from the fire sizzled and died when they reached the plaid. The Stewarts were protecting the glade from the fire—and no doubt from half a dozen other threats.

Mac smiled at me when I reached him. “Callie, we were worried you wouldn’t make it! It’s almost midnight.”

“A nephilim tried to attack me, but Anton Volkov stopped him.”