I led Emma down a winding stairwell within the secret passage, then came to a door at the bottom of the palace. It opened up to the gardens. Emma went to step forward, but I put an arm out, and held her back as a guard walked by.
His steps faded away into the night, and we took off running toward the palace wall. I reached into my sweatshirt pocket and pulled out my trusty old grappling hook. I fired it off, and it hooked onto the wall. Once it had attached, I grabbed Emma by the waist, and pressed the button so the hook could pull us up. I jumped down from the wall to the other side, and caught Emma as she leapt off.
“Didn’t get rid of all your Phantom gear, did you?” Emma asked slyly as I set her down.
“I’ve still got a few old tricks.” I grabbed her hand, and pulled her along into the trees.
We met up with Delmare, Stefan, and Arthur near a thicket a half a mile from the palace gates. The rest of our friends had heard of our plan, but remained at the palace to keep lookout, and make excuses for us if anyone figured out we’d gone missing.
“Let’s go,” Arthur whispered, and he led the way. We walked a winding dirt path through the trees in the direction of the Willow Maiden.
When we were about halfway there, an ear-splitting scream tore through the wind. It caused all of us to freeze in place. The scream died out, accompanied by a long list of curses that scattered upon the air.
“That sounds like a woman,” Delmare said, pausing to listen. The harsh screeching continued, growing louder in the brush.
Stefan gave a sniff, then stilled. “Smells like blood.”
I could smell it, too. Had someone been unfortunate enough to run into a monster, out here in the woods?
Emma was already investigating. She diverged from the path and headed toward the sound of the voice. The rest of us followed, keeping our wits about us.
There was firelight glowing within the trees. Low chanting, hummed by male voices, drowned out the other sounds of night. We kept low to the ground and peered out of the bushes to see a clearing had been made in the trees. Men in black robes with skeletal masks were dancing around a fire, where a cauldron had been placed. The cauldron was hot with boiling water, steam rising to the sky.
The area around the cauldron wasn’t a pretty scene. Bones littered the area, and pools of blood stained the grass red. I grimaced as I witnessed the bodies of several fae mounted on wooden stakes around the clearing, creating a circle. More sacrifices for the dark god by cultists.
At the head of the clearing, two figures were chained up to separate trees. The first was an older man, with peppered gray hair and broken glasses, a sloppy tie around his neck. Several feet away, a woman with long red hair and a torn velvet dress panted, as if she felt more rage than fear.
A cultist danced in front of them, weaving a knife menacingly. The cultist drew the knife across the old man’s scraggly face, and he swallowed.
“Gentlemen, this has been a very informative cultural experience,” the old man said shakily. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way now.”
“There’s no reasoning with them, Elliot,” the woman sneered, and she wrenched at her bonds. “Just get me out of these chains, and I’ll kill these bastards myself!”
“Black Claw enforcers,” Emma whispered, and I nodded. These were the soldiers of the cult that we’d been warned about, the ones Gabby had kept for her army. It churned my stomach to know they were still in Malovia, and hadn’t fled after the cult’s demise. I’d hoped we’d eliminated the Black Claw entirely when the catacombs collapsed, but we’d been warned that enforcers were still crawling around. Looks like we ran into some— and so close to the palace, too. It was worrying.
“We know the Black Claw believes sacrifices to Droga makes their magic stronger,” I whispered.
“Looks like they just found their next victims,” Stefan hushed back. His eyes moved as he counted, but I already had— there were twenty cultists within the clearing, and we were outnumbered.
“Look,” Emma whispered. “That’s Acolyte Vesper.”
My head turned, and my mouth soured as I saw a hated elderly figure step into the firelight from the trees. He had nearly sacrificed all of us to Droga before we’d claimed the griffin stone. I had hoped he’d died in the collapse of the catacombs, but apparently, he was alive and well.
Acolyte Vesper raised his arms. “Droga, dark god of malice, hear my prayer. Accept this sacrifice and increase our power, so we may serve you all the better.”
The cultist moved in. I watched the man tremble as the knife was placed up against his neck.
The woman yanked at her chains even harder. I noticed that they began tomelt, turning into molten as a result of what I assumed had to be her magic— though the chains weren’t melting fast enough for her to save the man in time.
“We have to do something,” Delmare hushed.
Emma was already on it. She stepped out of the brush and shouted, “Hey, dickheads!”
All the cultists turned at once, including Acolyte Vesper. His face paled when he recognized her.
The other cultists turned to attack, but Emma cast out a spell, and her blue magic divided in mid-air. It hit several cultists in the chest, creating cavities in their bodies and dropping them to the ground.
“Do something!” Vesper hissed.
