Chapter VIII
The catacombs were cold. Tess rubbed her arms against the damp chill as she continued along the small passageway, lit only by the flickering glow of the hovering flame she maintained. The smell of decay and dank air got stronger as she reached the actual mortuary chambers. She felt like walking for ages but eventually the passage began to widen as she finally exited in a large, open space with a comparatively low, vaulted ceiling.
She drew in a sharp breath at the sight of it. Rows and rows of open tombs, just slits cut into the rock, filled with old and decrepit bodies, some in moulding shrouds, some in rotting coffins, others simply shoved into the slots haphazardly. Some bodies still bore stretched skin along their limbs and others, nothing but crumbling bones. The space was nothing but a wider corridor, stretching ahead into the dark endlessly branching off seemingly at random.
It's… it's a damn maze. Where do I go? she thought, gulping.
Again, despair threatened at the edges of her composure. The place gave her the creeps – few things did that anymore. It wasn't the prospect of the dead that did it, either; with her potent Deep Sight, life with the dead was an inevitability. The dead, with their pleading, demanding voices, their hungry eyes, grasping hands and their dried tears, you get used to them after a while. It's the dead who had power in life that are dangerous. And these wiccans buried under the coven had power aplenty in their time.
The potential of getting lost in there is what scared her even more though, and for an embarrassingly long moment, she felt like a child lost in a store, looking for their parent. Suddenly, she desperately missed Roy. Her gruff, ever-reliable familiar; when he wasn't too busy devouring tangerines and mellowing with tangerine liquor, that damned cat alternated between putting up with her and buoying her through her worst moods.
Tess hadn't seen him in five years.
He just vanished, one day. Tess had been sick after a successful 'expedition' of her own devising to the site of a potential demon infestation. She'd been feverish and forced to stay in bed. Roy had set out for an entirely mundane purpose, to buy some more tangerines and something to cheer her up. He never came home. Roy sometimes would go off on his own for days on end, either for what he mirthfully called his 'me-time' or to inspect his natural home. He always came back though and almost always informed her beforehand.
So she waited. When a month had passed there was no sign of him, that's when she truly got worried. She spent years looking for him, exhausting herself, much of her resources and the coven's patience with her petitions for aid. Nobody cared. Roy had not been well-liked in the coven.
Because nothing with enough power of its own is welcome in the coven, Tess thought bitterly. Regina always hated his ass because she couldn't control him. Come to think of it, she hated me too, even before this.
Thinking about Roy made her upset and she had to stop to collect herself, to stop her eyes from welling up with tears. Roy was powerful enough that she actually should be comfortable in knowing he probably was not dead but… all the same, she did worry. She missed him terribly. She needed him here, now, to help her. His gruff, quiet wisdom would've guided her through this maze and his presence would've been a calming balm.
The creeping whispers from the vaults ahead of her snapped her out of it, steeling her for the feat she was about to attempt.
"There you are…" she muttered to herself.
She bravely marched into the darkness with just her maintained fire as a light source. The whispers grew in magnitude around her and she began to discern them a little more clearly.
"The book… the book… the book…"
"The blessed book… stored in a time we knew not…"
"The cursed book… the cursed book… does it never cease!?"
"It taunts."
"It promises."
"It whispers, ever whispers."
"It never stops! Make it stop! No, do not silence it!"
"Why does it fill my slumber with unquiet dreams?"
"It sings so sweetly… It hurts so much to hear but may it never cease!"
"Let me read it just once! It calls and it promises!"
"It whispers sweet nothings in my ears, even now!"
"The things it promises! So sweet and so depraved!"
"All of my desires before me… It asks for so little… so little yet so much!"
"No, no, mustn't listen… mustn't hear… it speaks lies and feeds us fear!"
"Why does it never cease…? Why does its voice live on?"
"Sweetest oblivion, where is thy mercy?"
"Let me hold it just once more!"
"The book…"
"Goddammit, enough of this, all of you," Tess muttered fiercely, making her way past the rows of tombs, the rattling bones and the creeping whispers.
She could've taken the time to exorcise every single one of these poor wretches, bound to the catacombs – whether to guard them or as prisoners was anyone's guess. Tess had felt a blanket of asphyxiating, vague nastiness in the catacombs that had nothing to do with the dead. She had a rough idea that it was the effect on the book. These priests and priestesses spent their whole lives fighting the influence of the book – but had they really? The whispers implied otherwise.
She felt it, the deeper into the catacombs she went, following that vague feeling to its source. The more she approached, the more she felt the tug of it, a strange, siren allure. She speculated that the full force of the book's effect wouldn't come into play until she'd come face to face with it. She had to prepare for that.
Tess pitied the poor wretches buried down here. They were denied peace even in death; the book haunted them and by the sound of it, they were all too aware of it.
She stopped at a crossroads to focus and determine which way to follow. The damned vaults all seemed the same. Rows and rows of holes with bodies piled high. It was staggering that the coven would have such an extensive catacomb network.
She finally chose her path and started down it, when the whispers changed their tune.
"Hark! A footfall where there must be none…"
"Breath where there must be none!"
"A beating heart to be tempted by the book!"
She sensed them before she saw them. Then there came the rattle of shifting bone and the whisper crumble of stone. The dead wanted an audience.
The first of the ghosts, a gaunt woman with empty eyes and a vacant expression emerged before her from the floor. She was dressed for a Renaissance court, her clothes dull and featureless in death. She blocked Tess' path and loomed over her.
"The book… the book…" she moaned.
Another came gliding languidly down the hall from Tess' back, a reverent old man in monastic habit, leaning on his walking stick still, unaware that he no longer needed it. His eyes too, black voids of nothingness.
"Just one more…" he intoned. "Just one more glance at the pages…"
They swarmed, gradually appearing out of nowhere as they closed in around her. Tess looked around, more frustrated than afraid. These wraiths were nothing new to her, but they were potent, she could feel it. The air grew cold and heavy around her, as they sought to smother her out. If they all got too close, they would do just that.
"Damn," she muttered, looking around her.
She had to work fast. Trying to exorcise them, whether one by one, or en masse, would take hours. She did not have hours. She needed to get through them now. Fortunately, she had a solution of sorts.
"For once I'm grateful to be the 'death dabbler' of the coven," she muttered.
She stood still, willed fire to come to live around her and seared a relatively small circle of power on the ground, inscribing in its periphery a plethora of warding signs. The advantage of controlling primal elemental fire was the ease in creating these circles – no need for consecrated implements of power when you've got a personal way to control one such consecrating power!
The phantoms, grasping and reaching, stopped cold at the edge of the circle. They circled tightly, staring and looming, pressing against the edge. They crowded around, whispering and muttering of the book's promises like they'd talk about the loving embrace of a paramour.
Tess reached into the inner pockets of her coat and withdrew a small vial of ink. She uncorked it and dipped her fingers in it, using her left hand to inscribe a series of runes on her right arm, after she drew back her sleeve as far as it would go. She returned the bottle to her pocket and braced herself. She made a fist and raised her inscribed hand as though brandishing a sword ready to descend upon someone's head.
She then spoke a series of sharp, cutting words and her hand started to emit a low, thrumming glow and a mass of white licking flames engulfed it.
At the touch and very sight of the glow, the wraiths balked. They surged back and away from the circle, howling incoherently. Tess bravely stepped out of the circle and started to walk down the hallways again. The ghosts bellowed their displeasure in loud, whining peals, throwing themselves at her in rage before the light from her spell flung them backwards into the darkness.
She nearly ran down the passage now, following the ever-increasing sense of wrongness that she was certain now came from the Tome of Rites. The wraiths made their displeasure even more palpable, gathering to attack, a gestalt of withered faces, empty sockets and gaping mouths united in a singular howl. Tess grit her teeth and held fast, never moving her arm from the position it was in, maintaining the repellent light – a single flinch could break the thread of power and plunge her into darkness. Fatigue would soon set in if she didn't get through.
The gestalt hurled itself at her and Tess stood her ground, barking a razor sharp incantation that caused a thrum of power to surge through the passage, shaking the very bedrock around her. The gestalt was thrown back, wailing in impotent rage, forced back by the exorcism pulling it apart. Tess pushed on and walked through it, holding her arm firmly in position and allowing the repellent light to force the torn gestalt apart like a wave as she passed through.
By the time she felt the pull of the ghosts waning and their whispers growing fainter, she was breathing hard. She paused, free hand on the wall to brace herself and regain her composure. The wraiths hung back, in the periphery of the light. Her arm hurt now but she didn't let up. She glanced back at the ghosts. They bobbed and rocked around in the back, just beyond the light. They were no longer fixated on her, though. She looked into the darkness ahead of her.
There were no more tombs carved into the walls.
She had reached the end of the catacombs. The feeling of dread had increased tenfold by now, leading her to speculate she was very close.
Tess sighed, stood straight and moved forward. She looked back again. The ghosts made no motion to follow her at all. They retreated into the shadows again, moaning and whispering.
They're frightened, she realized. They're enthralled to the book but they still don't want to go near it. And here I am, rushing headlong where the dead are too terrified to go. The fuck am I doing?
A few feet ahead their peals were now almost silenced and Tess dared to lower her aching arm. The white flames and light surrounding it died out, leaving her hand raw and reddened, as though sunburned. She winced, wishing for some water to dip it in for comfort and just pressed on with only the weak light of some fire she conjured once more. The tunnel grew taller, the stone more roughly hewn than the catacombs behind her. She reached the end of the passage, delineated by the arched gate that loomed into existence as if birthed by the shadows, parting before the light of her fire.
It rose tall above her, the stone gently sloping upwards to accommodate the height, the arched frame carved directly out of the natural limestone of the passage. It was smoothed to a pristine, if aged, surface. Wards of protection, oaths and declarations were carved deeply into it. The doors themselves, two huge solid slabs of wood closed shut, carved with raised reliefs of astronomical designs and bound with metal. The door was ancient, but overflowing with magic that kept it new.
This is it, she thought. If I get past this door, I'll have the book.
This was a door built to be unbreakable, to last for centuries. One witch, even a powerful one, could never hope to get it open. But the architect of this vault probably only had in mind pureblood wiccans, demons and humans. Hybrids were likely unthinkable. Surely, the mastermind of this must've reasoned, the coven will never allow a hybrid in its ranks. Surely there can never be a witch or warlock with the blood of theaos sí in their veins, whose power cares nothing for witchcraft or demons.
Surely, nobody will come down here with the power and the knowledge of how to undermine the wards.
Tess scoffed bitterly and shook her head. She felt sorry for the creators of this place and she felt sorry for herself.
This is why it had to be me, she lamented. I'm perfect for this theft. I'm the only one who can do it.
She huffed and entwined her fingers behind her head, staring at the doors with pursed lips. It would take a little doing to open it by force, but she felt she could do it. Undoing mass wards like this one was somewhat like unravelling cloth. You just had to find the right thread to loosen and pull, and the whole tapestry came undone. She'd long made a study of these kinds of things because it taught her how to subvert demonic seals of the same cast. While she still lived with the coven, her insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge and improvement had been admirable as it had been tiresome.
She approached the door and put her hands on it, feeling for the epicentre of the wards. She slid her palms along the surface of the wood and frowned. No loose ends. She'd have to force her way through the hard way.
She started to repeat a scratching of flinty words, an incantation to disrupt the great seal placed here. Not enough to undo it, just enough to leave a tiny hole that she could exploit. She felt it resist so she pressed harder, forcing it to yield and pull back like a curtain, just enough for her to make her assault. She stepped back and focused on that crack in the ward she'd created. The wood of the door started to darken and wither – time and decay were creeping up on it from the crack and she knew it had worked.
A flick of her hand towards the door was all it took. There was a build-up of pressure, a glimmer of flame pressing against the door before it exploded inwards, away from Tess. A flash of surging flames roared as the door disintegrated, the wards collapsing with it. The primal fire devoured wood and wards indiscriminately, rending them apart. Splinters and twisted metal pinged off the walls, clinging desperately to their original fixtures for all it was worth. A last blast mark was scorched on the ground where the door had stood by the time the fire extinguished itself in the last echo of its fury.
"Ugh…!"
Tess crumbled to her knees, hands on the carved stone floor, panting deeply. That had taken a lot out of her. Her neck started to hurt again, but she didn't have the strength to stand up just yet so she bore it, shutting her eyes and just concentrating on her breathing. When the pain got too much for her to be able to breathe she stumbled onto her feet and moved forward.
The passage brought her to a large, domed room, carved out of the natural bedrock in an octagonal base that rose to a round dome. The walls were carved into several smaller recesses housing large, ornate sarcophagi. As she walked through the arch into the hall, torches on the walls came to life, spreading a flickering light in the hall. That's when she saw that the floor was laid with pristine, dark marble and granite, like the pillars standing between the recesses. Statues of matronly figures and reverent sages, all bearing shields, stood between each recess.
Inevitably, her gaze was drawn to the middle of the room; a pedestal of hewn granite was flanked by two torches, held by two bronze snakes wrapped around the bases. A book lay demurely on the pedestal. Instinctively, she knew it was the Tome. She could feel its pull but she had to force herself to concentrate. She strode towards it decisively.
"I'm impressed, Tess."
Tess stopped dead in her tracks, just a foot or two away from the book and cursed quietly, shutting her eyes in resignation. Honestly, she would've been surprised to not encounter Regina down here, come to deal with her personally. She turned, calmly to face the High Priestess with a frosty look. Regina stood at the entrance she'd just come through, with her face a hard, grave mask of anger, her dark dress making her look, more than ever, the witch that she was.
"I knew you had potential, child, but to see that you've advanced enough to destroy ancient seals and terrorize the sentinels of our catacombs… you exceed my loftiest expectations."
"Really," Tess countered sharply. "Don't you mean I've exceeded your highest suspicions? I think, Regina, that rather than impressed, you're fucking terrified."
Regina flinched at the accusation.
"You're terrified because you were right: I am powerful enough to have usurped you any time I wanted. Except I never cared about leading this coven," Tess exploded, allowing her built-up anger show. "Because I figured your game out years ago. You've been blighting people with the power of demons and exploiting their loyalties so that you don't have to dirty your own hands."
"That is enough," Regina snapped and stepped closer. "You've always had a sharp tongue, you little viper. Yet here you stand: the greatest betrayer of the coven, in the chamber of the Tome, about to steal it for the wretched masters you serve. You think I didn't know?"
Tess glowered at her. "Then you understand that I have no choice."
Her neck hurt again.
"You think it matters? It is treason is all the same," Regina barked. "You never would submit and you never would do as you were told!"
"And that's what bothers you," Tess smirked angrily. "I never would be a puppet like your son. But I guess that's how you are. Even your own blood is a problem is he doesn't do as he's told. What did he do exactly; try to experiment without your okay?"
Mentioning Ricardo seemed to enrage Regina the most and she flicked her hand at Tess. "He sought knowledge that wasn't his to have. And just like him, you've learned more than what was allowed for you."
"Regina, back down. Stop this before it goes further than it already has. Let go of the damned book, I can tell you've indulged," Tess said coldly. "You may not have embraced a demonic power but you sure as hell have been using them. The taint is all over you."
And surely, Tess could see the black, sickly streaks veining her otherwise bright aura.
"You ungrateful little mongrel," Regina muttered, her voice dripping with anger and disgust. "I tolerated the presence of your filthy blood in my coven and this is how you repay me. You are your father's child, after all. A murderer and a traitor."
Tess' body tensed. She knew what was coming and she didn't like it. But she wouldn't tolerate it. "You don't know anything about what my father was like. So I'll thank you to keep him out of your filthy mouth, you pitiful old bag."
Regina palmed her face with one hand and laughed, a shrill, acidic cackle that made Tess wince. "You shall not have the book. I care nothing for your masters. You will be stopped."
Tess felt the tightening of the air before she even sensed the spell. She teleported away from where she stood, just in time to evade a dark circle of binding that formed on the ground like a burn mark, emitting a foul, smoke-like aura. Tess responded with a wide swath of flame as soon as she had moved, causing Regina to hold her hands out, mutter a word and disperse the flames. She pointed her hand to Tess and started to scream a clutch of bitter words.
Tess held both her arms out, shouting an incantation herself, flighty, crackling words like electricity. A circle traced itself in fire before her, gathering power. Two invisible forces collided in a single front with the crackling and grinding of stone as the chamber shook violently from the pressure of the two spells colliding. The torches lining the room flickered dangerously low. Eventually the forces negated each other with a booming noise, forcing the two women to stumble backwards.
They paused for a long moment, regarding each other like dogs poised for combat.
What followed was a flurry of alternating spells as the two witches engaged in combat as only witches do – an unseen combat fought by invisible forces invoked by the two combatants, aimed at subverting each other's powers and leaving the hapless victim vulnerable to a more direct attack. They both spoke, Regina using hard, sharp words full of anger while Tess' incantations followed an almost musical tempo to carry their power. Circles were traced and breached in succession, fading from view as others appeared in their place like forms rising in water or shapes seared into flesh. Forces collided and negated each other in turn. The chamber was rocked by the powers at play, statues rocking on their bases before toppling over and smashing – even the heavy lids of the sarcophagi rattled from the din.
Both women were on the move, constantly flitting in opposing circles, an eerie harmony of gesticulating arms and lips moving in silent invocations. To an ignorant viewer, they might as well have been engaged in a strange form of symmetrical interpretive dance.
Eventually, Regina seemed to realize that she and Tess were pretty evenly matched – and by look on her face, she seemed deeply unhappy about it, something confirmed by the angry, frustrated cry she let loose before she blew Tess back with a sudden surge of a foreign, unnatural power. She spoke two acidic words and a mass of black energy rose from her shadow, penetrated Tess' wards and flung her backwards against one of the sarcophagi.
Tess groaned as she slumped against it, dazed from the sudden hit. Even so she knew what she'd sensed. Regina was done screwing around and playing her true hand. She was starting to use spells she knew from the Tome. They had to be, because somehow Regina had struck at her with powers distinctly demonic in nature. Before she could stop another assault, the furious priestess repeated the process, seizing her in a mass of the same power and throwing her against the walls of the chamber again and again, slamming her on the floor before dragging her across it and flinging her into one of the statues.
Despite the assault of pain, Tess ground her teeth and focused, pulling off an instantaneous teleportation between throws that broke her free from the spells grasp. It broke Regina's line of sight and Tess kept on teleporting around the room as fast as she could manage, preventing Regina from 'locking on' to her again to resume the assault. It was exhausting to strain her skill with teleporting this rapidly but it had to be done, ignoring the blood running from her nose and burst lip.
She retaliated with a series of rapid consecutive blasts of raw fire, abandoning whatever witchcraft Regina could expect. Regina belted out several whispery words and her own shadow came alive and wreathed her protectively with demonic forces she was summoning through her own shadow. Regina shielded herself well but Tess just increased the intensity of her barrage. One powerful blast hit directly from the side, forcing Regina off balance and back towards a wall. Tess felt sweat running down her back from the intensity of the fight and the heat of the fire. Her head throbbed and her neck was on fire.
Regina was weakening, regardless of her use of demon-taught tricks. Tess caught a break when a direct blast knocked Regina off her feet and into the wall, causing her to lose her concentration. Tess felt Regina's control over her wards slipping and dove at the chance. She closed in while Regina was reeling, and attacked the high priestess with a furious heel-kick to the abdomen.
Oh, sure, they both were potent witches but experience had taught Tess that when you really wanted to hurt another wiccan, it really was better to do it with your own bare hands. Relying on witchcraft alone can have its drawbacks. The kick stunned Regina further, who probably had never been struck in her life before, and was further assaulted by a beautiful left hook as Tess' fist connected with her jaw. With an angry but triumphant growl, Tess grabbed her by the back of the head and with a vicious yank, slammed Regina's face right into her knee. She didn't want to kill Regina, regardless of what she'd done, just knock her out. But Regina foiled her plans.
She remained conscious despite the powerful blow to the head and with a shrill, frustrated scream, regained control of the demonic shadow manipulation, to fling Tess off her feet and onto the floor. Regina stood straight, furiously muttering a long incantation. Tess could feel the entire room trembling and the intense, murderous hate on Regina's battered face gave her chills. Blood was running freely from the priestess' nose and passing over her grimacing mouth with clenched teeth – the effect making her looks turn feral and beastly.
Tess watched Regina's shadow spread across the floor until he covered the entire surface of it. Tendrils of it rose up like smoke and Tess felt herself sinking in it. She knew what Regina was doing, some powerful incantation she'd gleamed from the Tome of Rites: Trying to open a crack to Hell itself.
"Regina! Regina, no!" she screamed.
Her words fell on deaf ears as Tess panicked. She wasn't even sure how it happened, in the end. She lashed out with a protective ward and all the reserves of her own power.
The next thing she knew, the power gathering was fading, the shadows beaten back by a large, brilliant flame. Regina was screaming. The high priestess was on fire like a wick. Her screaming seemed to go on forever as she flailed with her robes and body on fire, ducking this way and that, running like a frenzied horse let loose in the field. Nothing would put the fire out and Tess, petrified at what she'd done, backed up against a wall, aghast in utter horror. She watched Regina thrash, stumbling about while the conflagration consumed her. She had no mind to use witchcraft anymore and the fire ate away at her body. The foul stench of seared flesh filled the chamber and Tess made a strangled scream as Regina hurled herself towards her.
Regina fell to the floor, making choked, gurgling noises and Tess could no longer look. She shut her eyes and slid to the floor with her back firmly against the wall, grabbing her head while trying to breathe. The full brunt of her act dawned on her and it was horrifying. She'd killed before but this was the first time she'd ever burned someone alive and it was the most horrible thing she'd ever experienced. She was so completely shocked that she ignored even the painful throb of her neck, the hot, suffocating pain that pressed her on. She couldn't move from the spot for shock. She needed several moments to recover enough and tremulously stand up. Regina's body still smoldered and the charred and pitiful remains lay in a curled heap, her hands clutching like the withered talons of a bird.
Tess felt sick rising to her mouth from the sight and smell of it, turning away hurriedly, unable to bear the assault on her senses. She staggered over to the book, trying to ignore the pain of her throbbing neck. In the half light of the torches it looked so demure; it was unexpectedly small but thick and plump like a well-fed cat, in its handsome, weathered leather with metal binding and wooden toggles. She put her hands out to pick it up, somewhat fearfully.
Immediately she felt like two hands dropped on her shoulders, weighing her down and holding her in place. Her head felt like it was about to split open. She winced and shut her eyes against it but then opened them again as she sensed a presence.
Two frozen, bony hands were gripping her wrists firmly, holding her hands against the book. She was staring into and the dark eyes of a wraith-like woman, whose face loomed just inches away from hers. The same woman as her earlier vision, more ragged, more tormented. Her face was bone white with hollow cheeks and torn lips. Tess felt her mouth sag as she was fixated in place by the wraith that leaned over the pedestal to look at her closely. She looked… disgusted by what she was seeing.
"Take it," she said unexpectedly clearly, though her voice was ragged. "Give it to them. You will taste its poison all the same." The woman relinquished her and started to fade. "What evil comes of this book… will be your doing."
Tess stumbled back from the pedestal as the wraith floated back and away from her, holding the book. It felt unexpectedly heavy and she loathed having to touch it. It felt… tainted. And now she was tainted too. It crawled up her spine like a snake.
Tess saw the wraith move as she faded, to stop front of the pedestal of a statue that had fallen over in the earlier fight, revealing a chain that went into the wall. Tess flew at it without quite knowing why and yanked on the chain hard. A heavy grinding noise echoed from beside the chain and a slab of stone shuffled inwards and aside, revealing a narrow passage.
Tess stared dumbly at the almost cliché secret passage but she counted her blessings and raced into it. She didn't want to linger in the same chamber as Regina's charred body anymore. She clutched the horrible book against her chest, suffering the sick feeling it gave her, and ran.
