Asmodeus wouldn’t have remained satisfied with just kissing and groping for long. She was thankful Oswald and Thomas had showed up when they did.
She wanted to change the subject. “The sparrow—Odile was my mother’s familiar. She must have lingered at the fortress after my mother died. She found me when I came back. I haven’t met my own yet.” She was lucky her mountain lion hadn’t appeared in the castle, or she would have had to explain her initiation into a coven. “Do you have a familiar?”
“Had one. A meadowlark. Meraline.”
She was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?”
“She flew between the bars of the torture chamber. Asmodeus crushed her in front of my face. Burnt the carcass in a brazier.”
She winced. She had no reply to that.
“I haven’t seen Eden’s lark,” he continued.
A lump rose in her throat. Maybe it’s better if we walk in silence for a while.
Ahead, faint streams of silvery light shone through a metal grate. As they approached, she could see that it was carved with a leafy design, like a decorative storm drain. A tendril of fear spiraled through her when she thought of shoving the cover away, potentially drawing the attention of a nearby guard. “I see the opening. You think this will come out by the portcullis?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s a solid guess.”
Great. A solid guess. She closed in on the tunnel’s end. She could see only the stars gleaming in the night sky. She turned to Oswald. “Are you ready to chant the cloaking spell?” Odile perched on her shoulder.
He nodded, and they incanted the spell together, the three of them shimmering to transparency when they finished.
He touched her arm. “As soon as you remove the cover, we’ll need to move quickly. If a guard sees it move, they’ll sound the alarm.”
Celia turned to push on the grate, straining her arms, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Here, take Thomas.” Celia felt a nearly limp body collapse into her arms, and she suppressed a shudder. They would all need that plague spell now.
Oswald pushed past her, and her pulse raced as he slid the cover aside. Metal scraped against stone, but there was no sudden onslaught of guards.
She shoved Thomas toward Oswald, and he hoisted out the dead weight. Celia followed, a cool breeze chilling her skin.
She exhaled with relief when she looked around at Lullaby Square. They weren’t by the portcullis—they were just in front of the Lilitu Fountain. Night guards would be standing watch by the fortress, but the drain was out of their view.
Celia peeked back at the tunnel covering. Her chest tightened as a memory flashed through her mind—her mother’s head was hacked off just on top of the Lilitu Fountain, and the blood had spewed into this very drain.
“Celia!” Oswald tugged her arm, trying to snap her out of her trance. “Let’s go!”
She shook her head, trying to lock the image into a dark recess of her mind where it wouldn’t haunt her waking hours. She turned to focus on the storefronts across the square. Odile circled her head, fully visible. “Not now,” she whispered to her mother’s familiar.
A few lanterns lit the square, and the night was so silent that she could just hear the ocean’s waves on the other side of the fortress. She squinted her eyes in the darkness, searching for the temple among the cramped shops that stood across from the fortress.
“There,” whispered Oswald.
Celia recognized the circular sign above one of the doors of a timber-framed building. The sign was painted with the Theurgeon’s symbol: a snake curling around a wooden staff.
Still carrying Thomas, Oswald’s breathing was labored as they crossed the square, and the sounds of his struggles traveled with her all the way to the temple’s door. They crept up to the front steps, and she glanced back at the gate with a shiver of joy. I’m almost free.
Oswald whispered close to her ear, “After I unlatch the door, we must slip in quietly. There are two guards inside. Stay with Thomas while I take care of them.”
Take care of them? She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it wasn’t the time to argue.
The sound of jangling keys seemed to fill the quiet square, and Celia cringed. Oswald slipped a long key into the keyhole, and it clunked against the lock. Her pulse raced as he slipped it out again and tried the next. What if none of these keys actually opens the door? By the sixth and final key, she was ready to run back into the storm drain to live forever underground like a mole person—until the lock clicked open at last.
“Ready?” he said softly.
She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she whispered.
He edged the door open, dragging Thomas inside. Odile fluttered in with them, circling to the vaulted ceilings high above, before Celia had the chance to shut the door. Colored lanterns lit the cavernous hall, casting garish light onto a long table. Vines hung from the ceiling to the floor, their curling tendrils gripping books and potions.
Dazzled for a moment, she almost didn’t notice the two enormous guards barreling toward them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Celia