I would’ve laughed at the image if not for the fact that the retelling of it took yet more precious minutes.
“Whathas remained in darkness?” Arthur growled. He was already losing patience. I didn’t blame him. Inside my head, a clock ticked down the seconds until our fourth day was up and we lost our window to save Corbin and Maeve.
“Rumours have circulated over the centuries that if you wore the blood of all three magical creatures – fae, demons, and witches – and knew the proper incantation, you would be able to walk through the worlds unbidden.”
“In non-magical gobbledygook, that means you could be raised back to life from the dead,” Aline said from her spot beside the globe bar. She tapped her fingernails on the lid in a steady rhythm, as if she too was counting down the seconds.
“You’re not suggesting that we might be able to recover our son and Maeve from the underworld?” Andrew Harris asked, his arms around his wife. His voice was stern, but the lilt at the end of his sentence betrayed his hope.
“That’s what Corbin has led us to believe.” Clara flipped to the page in the book with the picture of the alchemical diagram. “Here, the writer recounts a famous Orthodox tale about Lazarus’ life after he returned from the dead. He was forced to flee Judea for Cypress, where he became the first Bishop of Kition. He never smiled in the thirty remaining years of his life,as he was haunted by the visions of the unredeemed souls he’d seen during his four days in the underworld. The only exception was one time when he caught a thief stealing a pot from the market, and he remarked, “The clay steals the clay.”
“Corbin said that,” I whispered, gripping the doorjamb. I tried to force my leg over the threshold, but it wouldn’t budge. “In Maeve’s dream.”
“Some witchcraft scholars believe – and the writer of this page agrees with them – that Lazarus’ comment carried a double meaning. He referred in the first instance to the transience of humans, and of life. That in the grand scheme, the thief’s life was no as dirt between the fingers. He was part of a greater whole, a building block of the world, crafted by God for his divine purpose. The other meaning refers to the mysteries of Lazarus, to the spell that brought Lazarus his eternal life. For as clay is a raw material that must be moulded by a creator, so too is blood in ancient medicine the raw material, the carrier of life. And who was it that granted him this everlasting life? Jesus, the blood of God, who would wash away the sins of the world. The son of God was the clay who stole the clay.” Clara pounded the book with her tiny fist. “Don’t yousee?”
I didn’t see anything, except a ticking clock. Arthur frowned. Flynn stroked his beard. Neither of them had a clue, either.
Corbin would’ve got this immediately. It would’ve been so obvious to him, that’s why he said he’d written the spell down for us, even though he clearly gave us nothing but?—
“I’ve got it,” I said. “It’s the spell. The clay steals the clay. It’s the incantation to bring them back to life.”
“It’s been right here in this book all this time,” Clara breathed. “And I never saw it. But your Corbin did. He’s a truly gifted witch.”
“He is the most gifted witch of his generation,” beamed Andrew.
“He’s a bloody book nerd—” Arthur leaned over the book, his beard twitching. He jabbed a finger at the page. “What’s this cross here?”
“That’s the cross of Lazarus,” Clara explained. “It was the symbol of a particular chivalric order. The knights tended the sick, and some witches believed they were beings of power themselves, who guarded a store of demon blood they could use to bring worthy souls back to life. At that time, of course, the fae were of this world, so their blood could be easily acquired. But demons do not come to our world, nor ours to theirs, unless something has broken in the universe. Only the fae could travel into the Underworld and collect demon blood, and they did so at great sacrifice?—”
“I’ve seen this cross before,” Arthur interrupted, his gaze flicking around the room. He bolted across the room and stormed through the door, nearly knocking me over as he stomped down the hallway.
“I wish he’d stop doing that,” Flynn sighed. Everyone filed out of the library and followed Arthur as he slammed doors and peered into cupboards. “Isadora,” he bellowed. “Get your bony arse out here right now!”
“Such language.” Isadora appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. She didn’t even glance up from her phone screen, which she tapped with her red talons.
“Show them your tattoo,” Arthur growled.
“I’d be glad to, as soon as your friends pay my fee.” She waved her phone at him. “Will that be cash or credit card?”
“She has a tattoo of that Lazarus cross on her arse,” Arthur muttered, folding his arms.
“How did you see that?” Flynn grinned at him.
“I walked in on her in the bath. It looked all grotty and diseased. Where did you get it? ”
Isadora slid her mobile down her impressive cleavage. “I hardly see how that’s any of your business.”
“It’s our business because we’ve got less than a day to bring back Maeve and Corbin.” Venom flashed in Arthur’s eyes. His hands balled into fists. I noticed that he couldn’t quite pull his fingers together on his injured arm. “It was Daigh, wasn’t it? This is something to do with your bargain with him. What secret of yours was Daigh carrying?”
“Isadora, please,” Andrew implored her. “That’s our son down here. We might have a chance to save him and give him a normal life. You have to help us.Please.”
Isadora’s face remained impassive, but her bottom lip quivered. She slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ll tell you, but you must swear an oath that you’ll not reveal my secret to anyone. It could destroy the Soho coven.”
“We don’t care about your secrets,” Flynn said. “We just want to get to Maeve. Tell us about the tattoo.”
“Not until you swear it,” Isadora held out her hand. “A witch’s oath is binding.”
“Fine. We’ll swear this oath.” Flynn flicked a knife out of his shoe. He nicked a cut across his palm. Arthur held his hand out for the knife, but instead of handing it to him, Flynn drew the blade across Arthur’s palm, leaving a cut so tiny it barely broke the skin. “You’re not getting your hands on one of these until you prove you can use it responsibly, Aragorn.”
