The Mesmerist(30)

I don’t have time to think about it. I just have to do it, so I quickly rise and make a circle at the top of the monster’s head. I try to hold my breath, for it emits such a foul odor. Once again, my hands glow as I do my work. The thing’s eyes are rolling around like marbles.

“Now the holy water,” Balthazar says.

The monster writhes and moans, its body burned by Emily’s fire and pierced by Gabriel’s notes.

I grasp the vial of holy water and pull out the stopper.

“All it takes is one drop,” Balthazar tells me.

I let out a breath and hold the bottle over the circle.

“No!” the ghoul cries.

“Yes,” Gabriel hisses, and strikes a melancholy chord.

One drop lands with a plink, and the cave is filled with black smoke. I cough, waving my free hand in front of my face. There is another dreadful howl—?and then silence.

Sweat pours down my face. Amidst all this madness, I can think of only one thing. It is unseemly for a lady to sweat.

I look down. All that remains of the ghoul is a pool of black ooze.

“Come,” Balthazar says, wiping his blades along the rough stone wall. “We must find their lair if we are to—”

He stops and narrows his eyes at something in the distance. I turn around.

Ahead of us, five hooded figures step from the darkness.

Emily’s light immediately dims, as if blown out by a foul wind. My legs begin to tremble. Gabriel takes a deep breath, as if he is about to use his voice like a trumpet.

“Wait,” whispers Balthazar, extending an arm toward Gabriel. “There are too many.”

I peer into the shadows ahead of me, and a voice drifts through the suffocating air. “The child,” one of them calls. “Come to us, darkling.”

My heart lurches, and I feel as if I will swoon, for the voice is unlike any I have ever heard before—?as soft as a woman’s and as deep as a man’s, combined in an eerie pitch.

“Go back, revenant,” Gabriel hisses.

“Come to us, Jessamine,” it calls. “Come, darkling.”

No, I whisper in my head. It said my name. No. No. No. No . . .

“We do not fear the dark!” Balthazar shouts back. “Tell your master that the League of Ravens lives again!”

He raises his hands in front of him and, releasing a heavy breath, claps them together. He closes his eyes. A boom echoes in the cave. I feel it along my spine. The air around me stirs. The earth below my feet feels unsteady. Emily reaches out to the wall to steady herself. Small pebbles and dirt fall from the roof. I am blinded as a flash of light illuminates the cave.

“Follow me!” Balthazar shouts. “Now!

There is no time to think, only to act. My feet move of their own volition, and we race after Balthazar. I leap over the stalagmites, breaking some as I run. Sweat pours down my face. The roof of the cave is falling. My legs are burning. Emily and Gabriel are in front of me, moving with speed I cannot match. Behind me, amidst the din of breaking stone, I hear the strange voice calling me back. “Come to us, Jessamine! Come, darkling!”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





A Cry in the Night


We are in the parlor. Weak morning sunlight bleeds through the windows. Emily is asleep in a wingback chair across from me, her breath coming in quiet, easy puffs. She didn’t even make it up the steps. I can still see her fingers glowing white-hot as she clawed at the devilish creature. Gabriel sits and scribbles in his little book. He used his voice as a weapon. How?

I have barely slept. Before I got into bed, I took one last look at my weapons. The braided ends of the lash were still wet with the ghoul’s blood. The battle remains a blur. All I can recall is the whip lashing out and then curling around the beast’s neck. To most people these are just simple objects, but to those with supernatural abilities, they are deadly weapons.

Sleep was troublesome, and although I was exhausted after our ordeal, I tossed and turned before finally falling into a tense slumber. It is not only my body that is drained but my mind and spirit as well. I stare at my hands.

I have killed a ghoul.

A ghoul.

Balthazar strides into the room, bringing me back to the moment. He is wearing cream-colored jodhpurs, a houndstooth jacket, and a white ascot. Black boots rise to his knees. I almost laugh aloud, as if some sort of hysteria has overtaken me. Amidst the madness we have just experienced, I imagine he must be a faerie who likes riding. He takes a seat next to Emily and looks into her sleeping face.

I swallow hard and ask the question that is plaguing me. “‘Darkling.’ What does that mean? Why did they call me that?”

Balthazar shakes his head slowly, as if he is also perplexed. “I truly do not know, my child. I have never heard such a name before. But it seems as if you are the prey they seek.”

Come to us, Jessamine. Come, darkling.

“These creatures have some intelligence guiding them,” he continues. “Their reference to a master is troubling, and never before have I heard a ghoul use human speech.”

“What were they like before?” I ask.

“Thralls,” Balthazar says. “Undead servants with no intelligence, controlled only by the necromancers who raised them.”

I try to imagine what kind of person could revel in such unholy evil, but I am confounded. I have so many thoughts, I don’t know where to begin. “How did you—?what was it? Our escape. The lightning and the breaking stone?”