“The ritual’s already started,” said Selene urgently.
“Shit,” growled Indigo. The door, though ajar, was enormously heavy and had no handle, and Indigo figured it had a hidden catch or lever, but she had no time to look for it. Instead she extruded shadow into the narrow gap and then flexed it like a muscle. The door did not want to open, but its resistance was nothing compared to her desperate will.
With a rasp of stone and a protest of ancient iron hinges, it moved. An inch. Then two. The nuns all reached out to grab the edge and pull. Even the golem gripped a corner of it, and still the door resisted them. Then, with a muffled snap, some restraint broke. The door suddenly swung easily, and they moved inside. Xanthe paused long enough to turn down the lantern flame, plunging the vestibule into blackness.
They stopped at the second door, which had been secured by a stout padlock on a heavy chain, but the chain now lay coiled to one side. Indigo carefully opened the door, and the sound of the ongoing ritual became louder. They bent to look, and to Indigo it was like viewing a scene from Hieronymus Bosch, a scene from hell itself.
Beyond the door, a long set of stairs widened as it swept down to a huge chamber that must have run the entire length of the cemetery. Fat stone columns supported the ponderous weight of the ceiling, and every exposed inch of floor, walls, and columns was covered with hieroglyphs and pictograms from scores of ancient languages, most of which Indigo could not even place. She saw some cuneiform and some Egyptian symbols, and there was Hebrew and Greek, but the rest were unknown to her. All of the symbols seemed to glow as if lit from within, as if the very granite into which they were carved had come alive with some kind of unnatural and luminous vitality.
There were at least a dozen Phonoi. No, more. Many more. Too many to count because their numbers were confused by flickering torchlight. She could see groups that clustered together, each marked by different-colored robes or arcane symbols embroidered on their garments. Many were naked, their bodies elaborately tattooed. Despite their differences in race, nationality, and clan affiliation, they were united in the chant they all uttered. The inhuman language hurt Indigo’s ears to hear, as if the human parts of her could not bear the sounds of those words and what they meant.
Central to the room was a stone platform, which was also covered with carvings, but these were directly representational and showed scenes of murder and rape and torture. Atop the platform was a figure, stripped naked and helpless, her wrists and ankles tied with leather straps secured to iron rings set into the stone.
It was Graham Edwards’s twelve-year-old daughter, Anastasia.
Her eyes were wild with fear but also glazed as if drugged. Or, Indigo thought, maybe she had been pushed past sanity by the knowledge of what was about to happen to her.
Three people stood on the far side of the table.
One was Rafe, and Indigo wished she could tear his throat out with the power of her own desire. The second, Graham Edwards, was stripped to the waist, his body painted with the same symbols that covered his daughter. And the third was a boy of ten. Andel, Anastasia’s brother, son and heir to Graham. Like his father he was bare chested and painted. But unlike his father he was armed. In one trembling small fist he held a gleaming dagger. Indigo recognized that dagger. So did the others with her, for they all hissed and a shudder of hatred ran through them as they watched. The dagger was small but wickedly sharp, with a bronze blade and a crossbar fashioned like wings that swept down to guard the hand; and with a deep blood gutter that ran the length of the blade. Inside those sweeping wings was a black void that would send the flowing blood from this world into the next. The very nature of this abomination of a weapon was an offense against life itself. That it was held by a child made it worse, and that the child stood ready to plunge that knife into the heart of his own sister compounded the blackness of sin that filled the air with a toxic spiritual poison.
Rafe was leading the chanting, but it rose to a sharp crescendo, and with a shouted word he ended it. Silence crashed down on the chamber.
“We stand on the precipice above the abyss, my brothers and sisters.” Rafe raised his hands and spread his arms wide as if to embrace everyone. “We have worked so long, buried so many of our friends, faced so many challenges, and now here we are. All that we have endured has brought us to this moment. Everything we have fought for is now within our grasp. Listen to the heartbeat of eternity … can you hear it flutter? Can you hear the winds of fate catch their breath?”
The gathered Children of Phonos cheered Rafe, but he waved them to silence again.
“Ours is not an easy path.” His words echoed from the stone walls. “Ours has never been the easy path. Ours has never been a simple task because the easy and simple path is for the weak and the unenlightened. But we know, my brothers and sisters, we see. We are diligent and precise. We have taken all this time because greatness is only possible when everything is done exactly right. Every detail, every step, every facet. Rituals will fail if the slightest error is made. But the locks to the treasure trove of unlimited power open if the right key is used and if it is turned with the subtlest, deftest hand.”
The others nodded but kept their silence.
“And now we come to this moment and to what must now be done.” Rafe gestured to Anastasia Edwards. “Only two things need yet be done for us to claim our place as the masters of this world. Of this and many worlds. This boy will forever earn his place as a true Child of Phonos, as a warrior of our faith, as a hero whose name will be praised for a thousand years.”
Indigo looked at Andel, and the boy seemed to be feverish with excitement. Or fear. Or madness. She couldn’t tell.
“Andel will sacrifice his sister, and Graham Edwards will sacrifice his daughter, for us. For all of us.”
There was a massive thunder of applause and cheering. A strange and twisted smile came and went on Edwards’s face. The body shivered as if he stood in a cold wind.
The girl wept and begged, but no one heeded her.
When the applause died down, Rafe smiled a dark smile at the crowd. “But before that can happen, there is something I must do. Something that I have spent many years preparing. So many years of study, of preparation, of research and prayer. Behold!”
Rafe reached down and took Andel’s wrist, raising it and the knife high so that everyone could see it. The empty space in the knife’s complex crossbar was empty only for a moment. As everyone watched, the space seemed to blink. No, it was more like an eye opening. One moment it was a hole and the next it was a perfect circle of darkness. Not shadow precisely, but a deeper and more profound darkness. An eternal darkness that was as bottomless as space but yet totally alive.
It was suddenly there.