“She told me she was going back to Daigh, that after what she’d seen she couldn’t possibly fight on the side of humans. She went back through the gateway he’d made for her, and as she was leaving she told me that the fae were going to be at the church for Connor’s baptism, and that’s when I ran to tell you.”
“Okay, but then how did she go back to Daigh through the gateway with our wards in place? Don’t tell me – the same way the fae got into the church. What was that hole in the floor and the black fog?”
“That fog is the blackest, darkest magic – like a primordial soup for demons. The cracks are another kind of gateway, similar to the one between earth and Tir Na Nog, only that one was made by witches and this one was made by something entirely different.”
“Who?”
“Somehow – and I don’t entirely understand how he did it, but it’s evil and mad andbrilliant– Daigh has gone direct to the source. Direct to the place where he will raise the Slaugh.”
“Meaning?” Corbin glared.
“Meaning,” Blake’s eyes narrowed right back. “The fae are in the underworld.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MAEVE
Icouldn’t help it. I snorted back a laugh. “Blake, be serious.”
His eyes blazed. “I am, Princess. I know you don’t believe in things you can’t empirically measure, but think about what you saw today – that crack in the earth, the black fog seeping out. You know that the fae cannot cross over from Tir Na Nog into our world except through the gateway at the sidhe. But they did, which means they’re not in Tir Na Nog anymore. In the words of my new favourite author Mr. Conan Doyle, it’s a simple deduction.”
“Seriously? They’re in theunderworld, with fire and brimstone and demons and pitchforks?”
“The pitchforks were an invention of the Renaissance painters,” a croaky voice spoke up. “But the rest of it is true, to an extent.”
I whirled around. Clara stood in the doorway, balancing a tray with a tea pot and several cups and saucers.
“The underworld Blake’s speaking of is not the same as the Christian concept of Hell,” Clara explained, shuffling into the room and placing the tray down on the table. “It’s like a waiting room. The souls of the dead go there to endure punishments for their sins and await their judgement.”
“Purgatory?” Flynn asked.
“That’s the most recognised of its descriptions on earth, yes. But it isn’t as sinister as all that. More of a sorting place. It is from this place where the Slaugh will get their riders, but they must first strike a bargain with the creatures in charge for the use of those unfortunate shades. That bargain has been paid in the blood of the innocent tonight.” She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes wide. “Ah, it’s so wonderful to be back in this beautiful Hall. A few more swords than I remember, but otherwise it’s exactly the same.”
“Who is this person?” Arthur demanded.
“Clara owns theAstarteshop where Corbin and I got those books from the other day.” I reddened slightly as I remembered the title of one of mine:Sacred Polyamory. “She knew all our parents, and even helped them with some of their spells.”
“I remember you, young man.” Clara poked Arthur in the chest. “You owe me three quid for that dreamcatcher you got tangled in your beard. The feathers are rumpled, so I can’t sell it. Your mother wouldn’t approve of such behaviour.”
Arthur looked shocked. It might have been the mention of his mother, but probably it was the fact that an old lady one tenth his size was bossing him around.
“How do you know anything about this?” Corbin swunging to face Clara with all his fury simmering.
“Sit down, dearie.” Clara thumped the cushion on Corbin’s favourite chair. “You’re going to pull something with all that strain.”
“But what are you?—”
“Now, now.” Clara gave his chest a shove, pushing him down into the chair. She lifted the teapot and started pouring out cups. “I know you’re all scared and you want answers. What you saw today was not something human eyes were meant to comprehend. But all this yelling and swearing won’t help matters. We all need to calm down. Here,” she shoved a cup and saucer into Corbin’s hands, then turned to Arthur. “Now, do you take milk and sugar?”
SMASH.
“We don’t have time for tea!” Corbin screamed, hurling the cup at his feet. His voice reverberated around the hollow hall. Obelix leapt down from on top of the fireplace and fled deeper into the castle. “The fae are about to raise the Slaugh and our magic is useless against them!”
“Use your indoor voice,” Clara scolded. “And yes, you have time for tea. The fae have made good on their bargain with the beasts who dwell below. The unfortunate souls who were taken today are already dead, their blood forming the final ingredient for the spell to unleash hell on earth. However, they can only raise the Slaugh on the first night of the full moon, and we still have fifteen days until then. That gives us plenty of time to figure out how to stop them.”
I remembered the fae saying they would see us again on the full moon.
“As for the fae’s immunity to your powers, you have Sheryl Brownley to thank for that. I saw her toss a charm that must have blocked your magic.”
