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Then I'll come down.
She knelt on the second step and climbed over the edge, hanging by her fingertips for several seconds before she let go. He steadied her as she hit the ground, keeping her upright. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. It was a kiss he was more than ready to return. Welcome back, she thought when they finally parted.
He smiled. I'm not sure all my memories have returned, but at least now I can call you something more than woman.
Thank God. She turned around, scanning the room in the same careful manner he had. What's that? She pointed towards the box. Flames leapt across her fingers as she did so, throwing warm light across the darkness.
I don't know yet. It seems to be lined inside, because I can't see past the wood. He walked over to the alcove. The box was about six feet long, made of rough-hewn planks, and was hinged and locked at the top.
You know, she said, a touch of uncertainty running through her mind voice. That looks an awful lot like a coffin.
The graveyard is on the outskirts of town. They wouldn't be burying the dead in the church cellar. Yet he had to agree with her—it did look an awful lot like a coffin. He grabbed the old padlock and felt energy run across his fingertips. Some kind of magic protected whatever was inside the box.
Stand back, he warned. Just in case .
She stepped back. He tightened his grip and pulled back as hard as he could, wrenching the lock away from the box.
No magic, she said, relief evident. In the heat of her flames, her eyes appeared to glow a rich, warm gold.
There's magic inside. He undid the clasp and carefully lifted the lid. He wasn't sure what he expected to find, but it really wasn't a body.
Ohmigod, she said, peering past him. It's Weylin.
Emmett, not Weylin, he said grimly, recognizing the small differences. The fatter cheeks, the scar near the eye. The sour, almost petulant, look to his mouth.
Her eyes widened. But Emmett's been dead for close to a hundred years! He can't possibly be this well preserved!
He can, and is, with the aid of magic. He skimmed his hand across the top of the box. Power crawled across his skin, stinging like bees.
But—She hesitated, the horror in her amber eyes stronger. Why?
The soul needs a proper house. In this case, it's original body. She swallowed convulsively. How could Weylin have maintained the spell all these years?
It would take regular sacrifices. He glanced at the floor. In the light of the fire dancing across her fingers, it appeared to be nothing more than dirt, but when he switched to vampire vision, the stains of old blood leapt to life.
There was no sign of a pentagram, but then, it would be easy enough to draw one in the dirt. But maybe he didn't need one. The old legends about vampires not being able to enter holy ground had some basis in truth—because some evil couldn't enter. The devil spawn was here only because it had been summoned by someone within the confines of the church. For the most part, evil tended to avoid churches.
Are you sure Weylin intends to use the sacrifice site in the Standard Mine to perform his ceremony later tonight?
She nodded. That's where Emmett died. That's were he must be brought back to life. Or so Seline told me . Her gaze rested on his. Why?
Because he's been doing sacrifices here for many years. I was just wondering if he'd risk moving his brother's bod—
He cut the words off as an odd sort of hissing filled the silence. His gut clenched, and he knew without looking what that hissing would be. Grabbing Nikki's arm, he ignored the flame that jumped from her flesh to his, but didn't burn. He yanked her behind him as he slowly turned around. Yellow-tinged smoke billowed into existence in the corner of the small room, curling through the darkness with unnatural heaviness.
The second devil spawn. He should have known it would be down here somewhere. He pressed his hand against Nikki's stomach, keeping her behind him but forcing her backwards. What do we do?
Her fear crowded his mind, becoming his own. Though in his case, it was fear more for her than himself. Get out.
It'll come after us the minute we make any sudden movement, and we don't have anything to protect ourselves here.
Nothing stops a spawn. Not until it hits something to consume. Water can repel it, and water can also contain it.
Her voice was so matter-of-fact he glanced over his shoulder at her. How do you know?
She grimaced . Um ... I didn't tell you about my encounter with the second spawn in Jackson Hole, did I?
No. Though it does explain the burn scars on your calf. The ones you kept waving away as not being important.
