nothing but a sleeping child minotaur, while in the cell opposite, two
cannibal Windigo lay unconscious alongside a trio of oni. An entire corridor
of cells was given over to dragon-kin, wyverns and firedrakes.
Perenelle didn't think they were prisoners none of the cells were locked yet
they were all asleep, and they were secured behind the shining silver
spider s web. Still, she wasn't sure whether that was to keep the creatures
prisoners or keep them apart. None of the creatures she d discovered were
allies. She passed one cell where the web hung in ragged tatters. The cell
was empty, but the web and floor were clogged with bones, none of them even
vaguely human.
These were creatures from a dozen lands and as many mythologies. Some like
the Windigo she had only heard of, but at least they were native to the
American continent. Others, as far as she knew, had never traveled to the New
World and had remained safe and secure in their homelands or in Shadowrealms
that bordered those lands. Japanese oni should not coexist alongside Celtic
peists.
There was something terribly wrong here.
Perenelle rounded a corner and felt a breeze ruffle her hair. She turned her
face to it, nostrils flaring, smelling salt and seaweed. With a quick glance
over her shoulder, she hurried down the corridor.
Dee had to be collecting these creatures, had to be gathering them together,
but why? And more importantly, how? Capturing a single vetala was unheard of,
but a dozen? And how had they managed to get a baby minotaur away from its
mother? Even Scathach, as fearless and deadly as she was, would never face
down one of the bull-headed race if she could help it.
Perenelle came to a flight of steps. The smell of salt air was stronger now,
the breeze cooler, but she hesitated before putting her foot down and bent to
check the stair for silver strands. There were none. She still hadn't spotted
whatever had spun the webs that festooned the lower cells, and it was making
her incredibly nervous. It suggested that the web creators were probably
sleeping which meant that they would wake up sooner or later. When they did,
the entire prison would be swarming with spiders or maybe worse and she
didn't want to be out in the open when that happened.
A little of her power had returned certainly enough to defend herself, though
the moment she used her magic, it would draw the sphinx to her and
simultaneously weaken and age her. Perenelle knew she would only get one
chance to face down the creature, and she wanted needed to be as powerful as
possible for that encounter. Darting up the creaking metal stairs, she
stopped at the rust-eaten door. Pushing back her hair, she placed her ear
against the corroded metal. All she could hear was the dull pounding of the
sea as it continued to eat away at the island. Gripping the handle in both
hands, she gently bore down on it and pushed the door open, gritting her
teeth as old hinges squeaked and squalled, the sound echoing through the
corridors.
Perenelle stepped out into a broad courtyard surrounded by ruined and tumbled
buildings. To the right the sun was sinking in the west, and it painted the
stones in a warm orange light. With a sigh of relief, she spread her arms
wide, turned her face to the sun, threw her head back and closed her eyes.
Static crackled and ran along the length of her black hair, lifting it off
her shoulders as her aura immediately began to recharge. The wind whipping in
off the bay was cool, and she breathed deeply, ridding her lungs of the
stench of rot, mildew and the monsters below.
And then she suddenly realized what all the creatures in the cells had in
common: they were monsters.
Where were the gentler spirits, the sprites and fey, the huldra and the
rusalka, the elves and the inari? Dee had only gathered the hunters, the
predators: the Magician was assembling an army of monsters.
A savage howling shriek ripped through the island, vibrating the very stones
beneath her feet. Sorceress!
The sphinx had discovered Perenelle was missing.
Where are you, Sorceress? The fresh sea air was suddenly tainted with the
stink of the sphinx.
Perenelle was turning back to close the door when she spotted movement in the
shadows below. She d looked into the sun too long, and the golden ball had
left burning afterimages on her retina. She squeezed her eyes shut for a
moment; then she opened them again to peer into the gloom.
The shadows were moving, flowing down the walls, gathering at the bottom of
the steps.
Perenelle shook her head. These were no shadows. This was a mass of
creatures, thousands, tens of thousands of them. They flowed up the stairs,
slowing only as they approached the light.
Perenelle knew what they were then spiders, deadly and poisonous and knew why
the webs were so different. She glimpsed a seething mass of wolf spiders and
tarantulas, black widows and brown recluses, garden spiders and funnel webs.
She knew they should not exist together which probably meant that whatever
had called them, and now controlled them, probably lurked below.
The Sorceress slammed the metal door shut and wedged a lump of masonry
against the base. Then she turned and ran. But she had only taken a dozen
steps before the door was ripped off its hinges by the weight of the massed
spiders.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
J osh wearily pushed open the door to the kitchen and stepped into the long
low room. Sophie turned away from the sink and watched her brother slump into
a chair, drop the stone sword onto the floor, lay his arms on the table and
rest his head on them.
How was it? Sophie asked.
I can barely move, he mumbled. My shoulders ache, my back aches, my arms
ache, my head aches, I have blisters on my hands and I can barely close my
fingers. He showed her his raw palms. I never realized just holding a sword
would be so hard.
But did you learn anything?
I learned how to hold it.
Sophie slid a plateful of toast across the table and Josh immediately
straightened up, grabbed a piece and shoved it in his mouth. At least you
can still eat, she said. Catching hold of his right hand, she turned it over
to look at his palm. Ouch! she said in sympathy. The skin at the base of
his thumb was red, bubbling up in a painful-looking water blister.
Told you, he said through a mouthful of toast. I need a Band-Aid.
Let me try something. Sophie quickly rubbed her hands together, then
pressed the thumb of her left hand against her right wrist. Closing her eyes,
she concentrated and her little finger popped alight, burning with a cool
blue flame.
Josh stopped chewing and stared.
Before he could object, Sophie ran her finger over his blistered flesh. He
attempted to pull away, but she held his wrist with surprising strength. When
she finally let it go, he jerked his hand back.
What do you think you re , he began, looking at his hand. Then he
discovered that the blister had vanished, leaving only the faint hint of a
circle on his skin.
Francis told me that fire can heal. Sophie held up her right hand. Wisps of