Large windows, almost gothic in style, dotted the front. Was that a gargoyle? I almost wondered if the whole shebang had disappeared from Europe into the Realm at one time, only to be spat out here. Things like that had been known to happen, close to a gate or not.
As I passed the trees, I did a double take. Wearing a purple velvet sweat suit and night-vision goggles, Callie stood with her hands on her hips like she had been waiting for me. Beside her, wringing his hands and staring at the church, hunched Dizzy, without goggles.
I stopped dead, dread and relief passing through me in turns. “What are you doing here?”
Callie braced her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, ‘What are we doing here?’ The question is, why didn’t you wait for us to pick you up?”
“What?” I glanced at the church, feeling the thrum of magic vibrating off the outside. It was a doozy of a spell, one that would have made me pass out if I had my old weapon. I’d stored magic into both the ugly brooch and my sword. I was ready. Ish.
“I told you we’d pick you up at sundown.” Callie scowled.
Dizzy poked her. “We need to get going. I don’t like the silence. They must be planning something.”
“I didn’t hear you say that,” I replied, not liking the extremely hostile look on Callie’s face.
“Honey.” Dizzy poked her again.
“I said it when we dropped you off. Did you really think we would let you come here and battle all this on your own? Are you insane?”
“Honey!” Dizzy nudged her.
“What?”
“That’s new.” He pointed.
A glow flickered under the door. Fire.
Mr. All Powerful was challenging me to a fire walk.
I started laughing and quickly recounted the contents of the letter—and what I thought it meant.
“How would he know?” Callie asked, the anger melting away into concern.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head, at a loss. “I would’ve felt a demon if it were close enough to feel me.”
“Would Darius have told?” Callie asked.
“Never.” Dizzy waved the thought away.
“He doesn’t know that side of me. I’m almost certain of it,” I replied.
“He wouldn’t tell.” Dizzy shook his head with a knowing, upside-down smile. “No way. He was a noble in the French Revolution. He risked losing everything to keep his people safe.”
“What”—Callie turned to him with an incredulous expression—“does that possibly have to do with him keeping secrets?”
“He would’ve eternally died instead of giving away secrets! He could have saved himself, but didn’t.”
“Regardless, I have to go in there.” I patted my weapons, feeling the pull of battle. The adrenaline and anticipation.
Dizzy nodded and started pulling things out of his satchel. “Reagan,” he said with a tight voice, staring at the church, “the protection spell is going to come down in a hurry. A moment later, I imagine it will be outright war. You’ll run in first, and we’ll walk quickly to follow. I don’t run anymore.”
“I understand,” I said, bracing myself beside them while watching what they were doing.
“Throw some spells to get everyone ducking for cover,” he went on. “Use that to get to some sort of cover for yourself. Don’t worry about them throwing spells at you. We’ll handle that.”
“Got it.” I shifted from side to side, ready to run. Eager to meet the challenge.
Dizzy collected more ingredients while Callie palmed a rock and a few blades of grass. “After that, you’re on your own.”
“If you use your fire,” Callie said in a strange, distant voice, “you’ll have to kill them all. We can’t let that information escape.”
“Get ready,” Dizzy said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dizzy put his fists around his collection of ingredients and banged them together. Callie rose her rock and grass into the sky, her lips moving but no sound coming out. Dizzy banged his fists again, his lips moving as well, the words no louder than a whisper.
Dizzy started to stomp. Callie joined him. Together they began to chant in Gaelic, their words almost keening, a song of the dead.
Shivers raced up my legs and coated my body. I kept my arms at my sides, fingers lax, no weapons in hand. I didn’t know what I’d need. I wanted to keep my options open.
The two reached a sort of wail. A black substance, thicker than smoke, darker than the night sky, pooled around their hands and drifted upward.
Callie changed her language to Latin; Dizzy started to grunt in a rhythmic way. The pair moved their bodies jarringly. The black substance, almost solid, floated higher. It started to roll, twisting and turning, a violent thing. They reached a crescendo in their chanting. Then stopped. The black shot out like a cannonball, heading straight for the church. It hit, splashing across an invisible wall.
I jerked forward, ready to go.
“Wait,” Callie said in a wispy voice. “Wait.”
Hands opening and closing in furious anticipation, I stood, braced, ready to run, as the black spread out across the barrier of the spell. It sparked in various places, tiny lights.
“Go!” Dizzy yelled.
I took off running like a lion was chasing me. The sparks brightened. Grew larger. Sizzling and covering the front of the church with smoke.
Still I ran, not grabbing my sword. Trusting in Callie and Dizzy. Hoping the warring spells didn’t slice me up.
Ten feet away, the brightness of the sparks made me squint. The pulsing of the spell quaked my bones.
Five feet. Brighter still.
I really hoped this didn’t melt my face off.
Three feet, and I reached for my sword.
The spells blinked away. The power evaporated.
My face smacked into the door.
I fell backward onto my butt.
“Open the door, you idiot!” Callie yelled.
“Good advice,” I grumbled. I’d been so worried about that spell that I’d forgotten about the hard wooden surface in front of me.
I sprang up, grabbed the iron handle, and yanked it open. A flash of red light shot at me immediately. I dropped to the ground while reaching into my satchel. My fingers closed around a volatile spell. I pinched and threw at the same time, quickly crawling to the side.