The Night Everything Fell Apart (The Nephilim Book 1)(66)

“Not a demon,” Cybele said. “I mean, just look at him.” Jack, lying flat on his back on the ground, blinked up at them with wide, sad eyes. “What self-respecting demon would manifest like that?”

“Good point,” Arthur murmured. Still, an angel? It seemed so improbable.

“Please. Please come.” Jack held up a trembling hand.

Cybele grasped it and pulled him to his feet. “Jack,” she said. “Where do you want us to go? Did someone send you to get us?”

He looked at her beseechingly. “Please. Come.”

Cybele sighed. “We should just go with him and see what happens.”

There really wasn’t much choice, Arthur supposed. “All right. I can’t say I like this, but...lead the way, Jack. We’ll follow.”

Jack nodded and darted down the narrow passage. “Here!” he called from the gloom.

The lad was bouncing on his toes, pointing to a narrow crack in the cave wall. The wailing grew louder, clearly emanating from the crevice. Arthur was inclined to dismiss the path as impassible, but Jack seemed determined to get through. He turned his thin body sideways and stuffed himself in. With a sound like the popping cork, he disappeared.

“Bloody hell,” Arthur said in exasperation. “How are we supposed to follow him through there?”

Cybele went down on her haunches and peered through. Arthur let his demon light dip, to better illuminate the crevice. “Can you see him?” he asked.

“No. There’s a turn, about ten feet in. I think...” She swallowed, and wiped her hands on her jeans as she stood. “I think...I think it’s wide enough to get through. For me, anyway.”

Her anxiety was obvious. “Fuck that shit,” Arthur told her. He tugged her away from the crack. “Stand back,” he said, calling hellfire into his hands.

Cybele regarded him warily. “What’re you going to do?”

“Blast our way in.”

“Arthur, I don’t think—”

He launched a concentrated stream of fire into the crevice. Unfortunately, he’d misjudged the force needed. The explosion was enormous. Cybele cried out. He grabbed her and slammed her into the ground, covering her with his body. Rock and dust rained down all around.

“Can’t...breathe.” Cybele shoved at him. He rolled to one side. She gasped and then dissolved into a fit of coughing.

“Shit,” he said. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He helped her to her feet and pounded her back.

She swatted his hand away. “Damn it, Arthur, the entire cave could’ve come down on our heads.”

“But it didn’t.” He nodded toward the crevice, which was at least a foot wider than it’d been. “And now we can go through.”

He plunged in sideways, Cybele close behind. Once around the bend, the passage opened up considerably. Another turn to the right and one to the left. They emerged into cool, clean air.

Arthur let his demonlight sputter and die. He no longer needed it. They stood on an upper ledge in a light-filled underground chamber. A dark pool filled most of the space. A flat rock rose from the center of the still water, in which a staff of twisted wood, topped by a crystal orb, stood embedded. A stream of sparks shot upward from the orb. The light arced in every direction, spilling to the ground in a many-streamed fountain of brilliance. The eerie moan rose and fell with the light.

Arthur’s breath caught. He stood mesmerized, his body frozen, his vision dazzled.

Cybele laid a hand on his arm. “We’ve found it. We’ve found Merlin’s staff.”

Her voice was wavy and indistinct, as if it had journeyed to Arthur’s ears from a place far, far away. Merlin’s staff, with its massive Druid touchstone, filled his senses. Arthur’s most powerful ancestor had fashioned that rod and held it in his hand. He’d used the crystal sphere as a focus to his fathomless magic. And now...

“It’s mine,” Arthur breathed.

The moaning grew louder, rising and falling with the rushing pulse in his ears. His vision went white, obliterating everything. Everything but the staff itself. Dazzled by its beauty, by its endless possibility, Arthur plunged toward the water’s edge. Dimly, he heard a voice call his name. He paid no attention. He was about to dive into the pool when a hand on his belt yanked him back. He spun about, wings lifted, hellfire crackling, left hand raised.

Cybele grabbed his arm with both hands and shoved it up over her head. Hellfire shot from his palm, and hit the cave’s ceiling. A shower of sparks and rock shards rained down.

“Arthur! What’s the matter with you? Get a grip.”

A large stone hit Arthur’s skull. “Wha—?” He gave his head a shake, blinking. Cybele. She stood glaring up at him. His arm was lifted. For some reason, she was holding it above his head.

He blinked down at her. “Cybele? What...what’s going on?”

She slowly let her hands fall. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Why was his arm up? He lowered it. His gaze was drawn by the staff, glittering on the other side of the water.

“I need to get over there,” he said.

“You need a plan first,” Cybele countered. “If you’re not careful, that staff could tear you apart. How are you going to approach it? How are you going to judge its power before you touch it?”