“He’s screaming,” Riley argued.
“But he’s alive,” James said quietly.
“He’ll get through this.” Zach patted her arm, but his reassurance was directed at James as much as at her.
“How do you know?” she asked as they made their way toward Highgate Underground station.
“He has to,” James replied at the same moment as Zach answered, “Because James screamed just like that.”
God. The knowledge churned in her gut as they caught their train. That heartbroken, desperate agony was what James had endured, convinced he was alone.
He would never suffer like that again. Not while she still breathed. It was time to end this.
They reached their station and emerged from the Underground into the bright summer sunshine and busy commercial activity of Fleet Street. Riley gripped James’s hand, keeping their fingers laced as she allowed her Shadows to expand, sending questing tendrils out into the bustling street.
Her awareness shifted through the busy working energies of the bankers, accountants, barristers, and advertising executives who worked there. Below that surface layer, her Shadows found the half-remembered rumble of printing presses and the first London newspaper. She followed them down deeper to the tanning presses and the surrounding taverns and brothels, the dirt and squalor, the horrors of the Plague, and the destruction of the Great Fire. And then further down, all the way to the Romans and the thoroughfare they built through the marshes.
There was the River Fleet, long before it was a polluted ditch and then a subterranean sewer, back to the time when thefleotcarried water to the Thames. Back when it served the holy wells of their ancestors.
The Shadows lapped at her awareness as they made their way to the distinctively tiered pinnacle of St Bride’s.
The church’s website glossed over the site’s pagan heritage. St Bride’s was dedicated to St Brigid of Kildare without reference to Brigid’s Dru-vid history as the daughter of an Irish prince and a druidic slave, or the holy Brigit who came before her, a powerful Healer of the Dru-vid. But even though the truth was hidden and the well was long dried, enclosed beneath layers of stone and concrete, the Shadows were still there.
Thousands of years of worship and prayers and healing were embedded in the stone. Riley could feel their weight as they moved slowly through the church with its striking black-and-white floor.
They made their way down to the crypt and over to the tiny, ancient, white-washed chapel alcove. Stone and Shadows pressed down on them as they spread out, looking for the perfect place to shatter the blade and scatter the broken pieces.
Here the stone would be just one more offering, its dark energy unraveled and allowed to disperse until it disappeared entirely, surrounded—and neutralized—by the healing, wisdom, and protection of Brigit’s sacred well.
It was the perfect burial place for the blade. And Gordon would believe it… because it was true.
Their footsteps echoed hollowly, all of them quiet and watchful as the minutes ticked past.
Riley walked slowly past the displays in the small museum and then moved on to read the inscriptions on the tombstones that flanked the tunnel-like corridor. Beside her, James emanated tension. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw, and his free hand kept creeping up to rub the back of his neck.
They were deeply fortunate to have the space to themselves. But the silence, the waiting, the pressure of the rocks above them, and the mass of thousands of years of Shadows seemed to grow increasingly oppressive.
Riley checked her watch. It was nearly twelve. Had they miscalculated? Had Gordon genuinely waited for them in the nearby train station? Or had he prioritized his plan to take a role in government and gone to his meeting with the Prime Minister? They had no way to know.
James grunted. “This is taking too long. We should finish it. Destroy the blade before any tourists arrive and get back to David.”
“You’re right,” Kay agreed. “He’s not coming.”
“Agreed,” Zach said, his expression hard. He lifted a hand, and a misty Shadow swirled out to cover the CCTV camera keeping watch over the museum from the ceiling.
Kay unzipped her bag and pulled the bundle out. As soon as it was in the air, the Shadows in the crypt swirled and eddied, growing more electric. The sharp smell of ozone scraped at the back of Riley’s throat as Kay unwrapped the blade, taking care not to touch it directly except with Shadows.
“Guardians?” Kay muttered, and Riley and Emma stepped back.
Zach and James reached out to grasp Kay’s shoulders and each other’s, forming a closed triad while leaving Kay’s hands free to balance the Shadow-swathed blade.
Their Shadows spiraled out, interlacing midnight, sky, and ocean blues in an intricate web. It was beautiful to watch. Three Guardians in their prime joined by trust, love, and countless hours of training. Their Shadows following their murmured commands as they wrapped the blade in a swirling net and raised it slowly through the air.
“Three,” Kay counted down, her eyes fixed on the rocky space they’d chosen on the far wall, a small distance away from the museum exhibits. “Two.” She clenched her fists, raising them higher, Shadows churning as the blade lifted. “One!” She heaved her hands out in a mighty push toward the wall.
The knife flew through the air, hurtling toward the rocky surface, about to shatter into a thousand pieces. But at the very last second, a massive blue-black Shadow raven swooped down and snagged it out of the air.
Shadows exploded in turmoil. A flock of vicious clawed ravens burst into the room, accompanied by a flurry of navy-and coal-colored flying darts.
