Chapter II

The Sword out of Stone

The narrow alley twisted and turned in a labyrinthine web as the scant sun ducked behind the towering buildings. Cass's focus narrowed on the distant figure darting through the mists in front of her, the thief's dark cloak stretching out as though to greet the growing shadows lurking along the damp brick walls.

Gas lamps dotted the path, miniscule beacons of relief as the light struggled against the thick London fog.

This is wrong.

The thought sprung, clinging like a burr. She had been running for too long. Surely, she should have run into a cross-street by now?

Perhaps she had missed it, she told herself.

The thought did little to quell the unease growing in her stomach.

Cass pushed the feeling away with practiced ease, deep into the recesses of her mind to be dealt with later.

But the break in concentration cost her.

"Curse it!" She spat, stopping before the bricked-up stoop of a door. Her chest heaved as a line of cold sweat trailed its way down her spine.

The thief was nowhere in sight. There one minute, gone the next, swallowed by the fog.

I won't lose him, Cass thought. I can't lose him.

She strode forward, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of the figure. The fog had become so dense that she almost did not see the wall in front of her before her forehead ran smack dab into it.

It was a dead end. Solid brick walls rose on three sides, so tall she could not see their full height through the mists.

Cass spun as her heart hammered in her chest, turning to try and find any way the figure could have escaped.

Impossible. Absobloodylutely impossible.

Where could he have gone? Could he have doubled back and snuck right by her?

But no. The alley was too narrow. Even in the poor visibility, Cass would have seen him. She was sure of it.

Frustration welled at the corner of her eyes. Was this it? Did she squander her chance to redeem her career just like that?

Why had she not tried harder? She could have run faster. Focused better. Called out to the thief, even. If only, if only –

Her hands shook, the emotions too strong to toss away into that long-neglected pile in the corner of her mind. The one that stank of failure and regret and dead dreams. That chased away her sleep and lurked in the bags beneath her eyes.

The weight of it settled on her shoulders, dragging her down. And, for the first time in years, she let it.

Cass leaned back, expecting to feel the scratch of rough, centuries-old brick.

Only to meet air.

Cass stumbled backward, one foot shifting to catch her before she fell.

She rose on shaky legs, eyes wide with disbelief as the brick wall she had expected to feel seemed to crumble before her to reveal a grimy London street, the kind that made a person clutch their belongings more closely and maybe even pull out that little key fob of pepper spray.

She took one hesitant step forward, then turned.

A brick wall stood where she had just been, looking as sturdy and steady as can be.

But that could not be. She had just –

"You're late."

Cass jumped, turning toward the sound of a gravelly voice. A hooded figure lurked in a doorway just down the road, the face obscured in shadow. The building reminded Cass of the old Victorian storefronts that lined so many of the city's streets, but something was different. It leaned just a little too far, its chimney a touch too askew. It looked more like the mighty maw of a beast about to snap down on the two figures at its door.

She felt her breath catch as she got a closer look at the other person. It was the thief!

And he was looking her way.

Her heart thundered to a stop. Quickly, she ducked behind a pile of discarded barrels stacked haphazardly along the cobblestone street.

Please, please don't fall. She plead, hoping beyond hope that the pair had not seen her.

Cass barely dared to breathe as her ears strained to hear what they did next.

For a moment, there was nothing. No footsteps. No shouts of anger.

Then, the thief spoke.

"I ran into some trouble." The man replied, annoyance dripping from his too-smooth vowels. "Easily handled, of course."

"But you have it?"

"Such doubt, Antilus. It's almost like you don't trust me."

The man in the doorway gave a grunt. "I trust the Regnant. You're just unfortunate baggage."

The thief gave a soft laugh. "Are you ready to begin, or would you like this 'unfortunate baggage' to take the sword to the next highest bidder? I assure you, there are several excellent offers on the table."

"You wouldn't dare. The Regnant would have your head on a spike."

There was a brief pause before the thief replied, his voice soft but sharp as a knife. "And where do you think your head will be if he finds out about your little side dealings?" Another laugh, bereft of humor. "Yes, I know about those. Open the door, Antilus, and let us begin. Unless you'd like to tell the Regnant just why we were delayed?"

"Let's just get this over with." Antilus growled.

Old, rotted wood creaked open before slamming shut once more, a bolt sliding into place behind it.

Cass waited for one breath, then two, before she crept out from behind her cover.

This must be some sort of illegal auction house. Perhaps the Regnant was the ringleader?

Cass bit the inside of her cheek. There was too much she did not know. What she had thought was a serial burglar – clever but operating alone - seemed now to be something much more elaborate.

Her story just grew. Exponentially, perhaps.

She had to learn more.

Cass crept toward the lopsided building, taking care to avoid stepping in the oil-limed puddles dotting the crossway.

Something about the place made her hair stand on end. The uneasy creaking of a cauldron-shaped signpost swinging in the breeze did little to help the feeling that Cass had somehow stepped straight onto the set of a horror film.

The door was locked, but surely there was another way in. She had to hold on to that hope.

Hope, or stupidity, Cass thought with a grimace.

How many times had she watched a slasher movie only to yell at the protagonist for going into the absolutely haunted building when clearly it was where the knife-wielding maniac was hiding?

But curiosity held her fast. All she could do now was obey its call.

She almost sighed with relief as, miracle of miracles, she found a small passage that ran along the right side of the building. Though Cass was by no means the tallest person in a room, she had to duck to avoid dragging her head along a portion of another structure that jutted out to lean against its neighbor.

And there along the wall, barely perceptible through the thick layers of grime, was a narrow door.

Perhaps luck was on her side after all. Cass figured she was owed a bit after all these years.

She paused, sparing a precious moment to listen if someone might be on the other side.

Silence, but for the thundering of her heart.

She had never exactly broken into a building before.

Cass grasped the doorknob and turned, eyes widening with surprise and relief as it opened with ease.

Before common sense could gain a purchase, she slipped into the darkness that lurked beyond the threshold.

Cass blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Somewhere a lamp flickered to life, a dull glow that revealed rough floorboards and cobwebbed corners.

This place had not seen a caring hand in many years. Perhaps illicit antiquities dealers preferred a touch of underground ambiance?

Cass suppressed a shudder as a shadow of something with too many legs skittered across the floor toward a darkened hallway.

She glanced around, taking stock of the rest of the house. The two men had to have gone somewhere. But where?

To her left she spied the front door, a single candle flickering by the door. Half-rotted furniture was strewn across the area, stacked in piles as though it had been intended to be moved, only to be forgotten halfway through the process.

Footsteps tracked through the dust and grime, leading toward the only other option – the dark hallway.

Cass's heart sank. Follow the spiders it was.

She crept along, certain with every tentative step across the rotting floorboards that she would be discovered.

The low hum of voices drew her toward a tall doorway on the opposite end of the hall. She peered into the black void, just barely making out the outline of steps stretching down into a cellar. A tiny pinprick of light danced at the bottom, as though beckoning her.

Sending up a small prayer to whatever god was listening, Cass descended.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, the pinprick of light growing to reveal itself as a sturdy lamp hanging beside a threadbare velvet drape.

The sound of conversation grew from behind the curtain, the words still indistinguishable. She needed to get closer.

Cass's jaw dropped as she pushed the drape aside, peering into the room beyond.

Impossible.

She had lost count of how many times she had thought that in one day.

What should have been a small, decrepit cellar room was anything but. Beyond the tattered cloth lay a cavernous chamber, stone pillars stretching skyward to support an arched stone roof. Braziers of blue fire crackled silently, casting an eerie glow over mosaiced floors that drew the eye toward the center in a mesmerizing spiral.

In the middle stood at least a dozen figures, draped in long black cloaks.

This was either London's only cosplay-themed illegal auction house, or Cass had just stumbled upon a goddamn cult.

Either way, she knew her story was going to make waves.

She moved deeper into the room, grateful for a pile of crates that kept her shrouded in shadow and provided a barrier between her and the others. Being as silent as she could, she peered into one of the open crates.

Her eyebrows raised as she caught a gleam from a small brooch, whorls of jewels and gold knotted together in intricate designs.

It was one of the Anglo-Saxon artifacts that had gone missing. She had been right. It was the same thief, not just coincidence.

"Did you see that?" One of the figures turned toward her.

Cass dropped to a crouch, heart thundering in her ears.

Footsteps drew closer to her hiding spot.

This was it. She'd be discovered. And then…who knew what next.

The footsteps paused.

"Probably just another mouse." Replied a feminine voice before turning back toward the center of the room.

Cass leaned her forehead against the crate as she struggled to get control of her breathing. She was only steps away from the strangers and had no idea if they were armed or not.

I need to be more careful, she thought. There's no story, no career, if I die here. I –

The thought was cut short as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder.

Cass spun; surprised yelp cut short by another hand closing over her mouth.

Mischievous blue eyes peered at her through a crop of curly dark hair as a familiar man withdrew his hands, coming to crouch beside her.

"You!" Cass whispered in disbelief. It was the well-dressed stranger that she had run into – quite literally – earlier. "Did you follow me?"

"It's not every day you see a muggle sprinting down Knockturn Alley." He shrugged. "I was curious."

"Muggle?" Cass blinked, utterly confused and more than a little concerned. "And curious? Who on earth follows a complete stranger into dark alleys just because they're –"

Her jaws snapped shut, realizing that she was, in fact, exactly the kind of person who would follow a complete stranger into the dark unknown.

As though he read her thoughts, the corners of the man's eyes crinkled with humor. Cass's jaw clenched, embarrassment and frustration rising. "You –"

"Bring the sword." A deep male voice rang throughout the chamber, drawing their attention back to the gathering of cloaked figures.

They had arranged themselves in a circle, surrounding an imposing looking man at the center. He stood almost a head taller than anyone else in the room, confidence and power radiating from him. His long pale hair was pulled back, highlighting the sharp angles of his face.

He was the kind of person who knew how to command attention and used that knowledge liberally.

One of the figures stepped into the center of the circle, the cloak more worn than the others. The thief, Cass recognized.

"Regnant." The thief bowed low, hefting a heavy wrapped package before him. "I present you with Mordred's Grace."

The Regnant stepped forward, pulling back the cloth and lifting an ancient sword from its wrappings.

"Beautiful." He said, his voice softening with awe as he ran a hand along the rough, stone-like texture that coated the weapon. "Exactly as the legends said."

The stranger beside her sucked in a breath. "It can't be…"

Cass turned toward him. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing good." He replied, worry furrowing his brow as he peered between the crates.

A shuffling drew her attention back to the circle where a petite figure was brought forward to kneel before the Regnant.

It was Cass's turn to suck in a breath. "It – it's a girl."

The child – she could not have been more than nine or ten years old – swayed slightly as she knelt at the center of the spiral mosaic.

"Welcome, my acolyte." The Regnant began. "Are you ready to ascend?"

A chill ran up Cass's spine. Yep, definitely a cult.

"I am ready." The girl replied, her voice whispy and dreamlike.

"She must be under the Imperius curse." The man beside her muttered as he pulled something long and thin out from his sleeve.

Cass frowned. "Imperi-what?"

He did not have a chance to respond as the figures began a haunting chant. Cass watched, mesmerized, as the mosaics around the room began to glow an eerie green. If she looked from the corners of her eyes, she could have sworn that they had begun to shift and slither like a snake.

The chanting grew louder, echoing throughout the chamber as though spoken by hundreds more than the dozen cultists in the room.

Then, unbelievably, the sword began to rise, hovering above the Regnant's hands.

As if by magic.

The Regnant stepped back, the sword remaining in place in the air before him. There was a hunger in his gaze that turned Cass's blood cold.

This was not just a cult, Cass realized with shock. These people were using magic. Real, actual, terrifying magic.

She felt numb. It was too much to process. Too much to comprehend.

Her career-making investigation piece suddenly withered on the vine.

Hell, she would not believe herself if she wasn't seeing it happen before her very eyes.

The sword turned toward the child, guided by an unseen hand. Though it appeared to be made from roughly hewn stone, a sharp, obsidian-like edge glinted against the blue-green light in the chamber.

The chanting continued to rise, the air vibrating with an energy that made Cass's hair stand on end. The mosaics – there was no mistaking it now – were moving. Twisting and turning, stretching out toward the sword.

"They're going to kill her." Cass whispered with horror as the tip of the sword angled downward, pointing directly at the child's heart.

But what could she do? These people – these wizards and witches – were using godbedamned magic.

And that girl was going to be their sacrifice.

Bile welled in her throat.

She could run.

She could leave this room and never turn back. Pretend it was all some sort of stress-induced hallucination. Brain poisoning on account of low-quality hair dye, or something.

No. Cass grit her teeth as certainty settled like a stone in her core. She'd done enough running from her stinking pile of regret.

Cass darted out from behind the crates before she could second guess her decision.

"Wait!" The stranger reached out a split second too slow, hand just grazing the back of her arm. "I can—"

Cass ignored his plea as she lunged forward, placing herself between the sword and the girl.

"Stop!" She shouted, "You can't –"

A jolt of surprise rattled through the circle. The Regnant's face twisted first with shock, then anger.

But it was too late.

The sword surged forward as the chanting reached its crescendo.

Straight toward where Cass now stood.

Her eyes widened as it drove toward her, blade glinting eagerly as the mosaics spun beneath her feet.

Oh.

She stumbled back as it struck. She looked down in shock at the blade now piercing her chest, just below her heart.

The chanting ceased. Someone was shouting. It all felt so far away.

Pain blossomed, slow at first, and then erupted. It seemed to sear through her soul, scouring every inch of her body. It was too swift, too widespread.

Sparks of blue seemed to crawl along her arms. Her legs. Everywhere, coalescing around the sword. It felt as though she was being stabbed from all directions.

Cass gasped, the sound echoing through the now silent chamber.

"Oh." She sighed as her legs collapsed beneath her. "Shit."

Cass gasped for air as her lungs struggled to respond. Her brain felt like it was enmeshed in fog, aware of the pain but too slow to react.

Everything felt slow.

From her reaching up to grasp the hilt.

To the Regnant stepping forward.

To the spears of bright red light that suddenly began shooting out from behind her, followed by shouts of pain as the cultists fell to the ground.

Too slow.

Too

Bright,

Too

…

Much.

Was this what it felt like to die?

But even as the thought crossed her mind, a warmth grew where the sword had pierced her chest. It grew and grew until she gasped in pain as heat seared along her veins.

Her vision danced with flecks of blue, leaving black sunspots in their wake.

"What have you done!" The girl screeched, teeth bared as her hair flared behind her. "You've ruined everything!"

Why was she upset? Cass wondered. Her thoughts meandering through molasses. She tried to reach up to grasp the sword but found nothing.

How odd.

Someone was picking her up, pulling her away from the screaming child. Flares of red and green darted across her vision this way and that.

Nothing made sense.

Her thoughts were a jumble. Pain and shock settled over her like a blanket as darkness began to creep along the edges of her vision.

Across the chamber stood the Regnant, steadfast among the chaos churning around him like a rock in a stormy sea.

"It will devour you." His lips moved, and his smooth voice sounded as though he was right beside her ear.

Cass did not know how she could hear him, but his words rang clear even as her vision began to fade.

"And when it does, we'll be there to pick apart what little remains."

He grinned, a wolf marking his prey.

It was the last thing Cass saw before darkness finally, blessedly, claimed her.

Who is the mysterious stranger? What could the Regnant and his cronies be up to? What will happen to Cass now? Stay tuned to find out!

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Thanks for reading!