I grasp the braided handle and, without thinking, lash out, just as Mother did. The weighted tails coil around the creature’s neck and then curl tight, like a snake squeezing its prey, as if it has a mind of its own.
The ghoul grasps at its neck, trying to loosen the whip, but then claps its hands against its ears, as if the sound of Gabriel’s singing is more painful. All the while, Gabriel’s voice is rising in pitch, an aria full of despair. Cracks appear in the walls. Light dances on Emily’s fingertips. She rushes forward and rakes the monster’s back with her fingernails. “No!” I shout. “Emily!”
She quickly darts away to stand by my side, breathing hard. Her small handprint begins to glow white-hot on the ghoul’s back. The monster screams and twists its arms, trying to reach the spot that now blazes a fearsome red. Balthazar lunges in with his blade, slashing at the demon’s heart. Though I wonder if it even has one. A note rings in the air—?clear and strong. I turn to see Gabriel, golden harp in hand, plucking the strings. His face is set in fierce determination, his eyes as dark as ever.
“Stop!” the demon howls. “You filth! It burns!”
And then it collapses to the floor of the cave, rolling around in pain. The smell of burning hair and something much worse fills the air.
It opens its mouth, a deep chasm of shadow, and a low sound comes from its throat. After a moment, dread creeps down my spine, for it is speaking. “My master,” it says, “has something for you. All of you. You will die suffering.”
And then it shakes its terrible head and howls again. “Ring around the rosy, a pocketful of posies. Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!”
How can this thing know that?
“You pitiful beast,” Balthazar hisses. “Jessamine. Release this foul spirit.”
I look to Balthazar. What does he mean?
“The compass!” Emily shouts. “Use the compass, Jess!”
“Draw back your lash first, Jessamine,” Balthazar tells me in a much quieter tone.
Fearful, even with Balthazar’s instruction, I release the whip. The tails loosen and seem to slither away. I kneel to set it on the ground, then take the silver compass from the case.
“Where?” I ask, standing up.
Balthazar points to a space just below the thing’s monstrous feet. “Here,” he says. “It is the Circle of Confinement, from which no evil can escape.”
I kneel back down and pull the two points of the compass apart. Gabriel is still playing his harp, the notes like darts of pain in the beast’s body, for it can now barely move and lies on the floor breathing hard. Its eyes are a sick, vibrant yellow. Emily stands next to me, her light pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I put one point of the compass into the rocky earth and slowly turn it in a circle. I gasp. My hands are bathed in a golden glow. Sparks fly up from the ground.
“Now do the same above,” Balthazar instructs me. “A creature must be bound at the north and south points. Only then can it be destroyed.”
I don’t have time to think about it. I just have to do it, so I quickly rise and make a circle at the top of the monster’s head. I try to hold my breath, for it emits such a foul odor. Once again, my hands glow as I do my work. The thing’s eyes are rolling around like marbles.
“Now the holy water,” Balthazar says.
The monster writhes and moans, its body burned by Emily’s fire and pierced by Gabriel’s notes.
I grasp the vial of holy water and pull out the stopper.
“All it takes is one drop,” Balthazar tells me.
I let out a breath and hold the bottle over the circle.
“No!” the ghoul cries.
“Yes,” Gabriel hisses, and strikes a melancholy chord.
One drop lands with a plink, and the cave is filled with black smoke. I cough, waving my free hand in front of my face. There is another dreadful howl—?and then silence.
Sweat pours down my face. Amidst all this madness, I can think of only one thing. It is unseemly for a lady to sweat.
I look down. All that remains of the ghoul is a pool of black ooze.
“Come,” Balthazar says, wiping his blades along the rough stone wall. “We must find their lair if we are to—”
He stops and narrows his eyes at something in the distance. I turn around.
Ahead of us, five hooded figures step from the darkness.
Emily’s light immediately dims, as if blown out by a foul wind. My legs begin to tremble. Gabriel takes a deep breath, as if he is about to use his voice like a trumpet.
“Wait,” whispers Balthazar, extending an arm toward Gabriel. “There are too many.”
I peer into the shadows ahead of me, and a voice drifts through the suffocating air. “The child,” one of them calls. “Come to us, darkling.”
My heart lurches, and I feel as if I will swoon, for the voice is unlike any I have ever heard before—?as soft as a woman’s and as deep as a man’s, combined in an eerie pitch.
“Go back, revenant,” Gabriel hisses.
“Come to us, Jessamine,” it calls. “Come, darkling.”
No, I whisper in my head. It said my name. No. No. No. No . . .