A Witch's Feast (34 page)

When they reached a dark road dotted with a few old plantations, Tobias took the opportunity to sneak inside an old wooden house to steal water for Mariana. They had to soak Alan’s shirt in it and drip it into her mouth before she revived enough to drink on her own.
 

They walked for hours along tree-lined streets, passed every so often by cars driving to and from Williamsburg. It was unusually chilly for this time of year, and Fiona rubbed her arms for warmth. Whenever their bodies began to glimmer back into view, Tobias would renew the spell. After a few hours of walking, Fiona’s feet began to bleed. Tobias wore nothing but his underwear, and his feet must have been equally battered, but he carried Mariana through the woods and open fields.
 

By the middle of the night, Fiona had become increasingly frantic to find a pay phone to call her mother. If they existed anywhere anymore, it wasn’t by the side of a dark Virginia road.

Tobias’s body seemed to radiate heat, and Fiona stuck near him to warm herself. It must have been close to four in the morning by the time they approached Williamsburg. They’d hardly spoken throughout the journey, and Fiona had tried not to think about what had happened to Jack. But with fatigue smothering her defenses, she couldn’t suppress it.
 

She’d been relieved when Alan pulled the pendant from Jack. She couldn’t have done it herself—Tobias would have never forgiven her. But she couldn’t stomach the idea of allowing someone to burn to death. Still, a Fury was a spirit of vengeance, and Jack obviously had a lot of blood on his hands. Maybe death at the hands of a Fury was a fitting end for him.
 

The pavement was rough beneath her feet as they walked along the cool sidewalks toward the Williamsburg bus station, passing short brick buildings lining the leafy streets. Apart from one or two drunken college students, the roads were entirely deserted.

Fiona cleared her throat. “Tobias?”
 

“Yes?”

“Why was Jack screaming about someone named Dorcas?”

“No idea.” His tone indicated that he wasn’t the least bit interested. After another minute, he said, “Furies are fueled by guilt. He must be feeling bad about one of the hundreds of people whose lives he destroyed. I’m not sure why one would stand out above the others.”

“Why did the Purgators use the Fury’s blood?”

“She was Blodrial’s unwilling vessel. The Furies are linked to Blodrial. He is a god of repentance.”
 

“Do you feel better now that Jack is dead?”
 

He didn’t answer. By the time they approached the redbrick bus station, Fiona’s feet had gone mercifully numb. The station doors were locked, and Tobias laid Mariana down on a bench to rest.
 

He crossed to a second bench, and Fiona joined him. She hugged herself, shivering, and Tobias pulled her close to him. She hesitated for a moment before leaning into him, resting her head on his warm chest.
Warmth is one of the perks of alignment with the fire goddess, I guess.
 

They would wait here until morning. While invisible, Fiona would steal someone’s cell phone to call her mother, and Mrs. Forzese would collect them all here. If for some reason she’d been delayed, they could always sneak onto a bus.
 

That was the plan, anyway.

Odile swooped down from the ceiling, landing on her shoulder. She must have taken shelter during the fight.
Wise little sparrow.
 

“There.” Oswald reached for a green book just behind Bathsheba’s throne.
 

She peered at the gold lettering. “What does it say?”

“Resheph, the demon of plague-healing.” He paged though the book. “His name means
flame.
He is
the fever that burns away an infection.”

She stared as he left crimson fingerprints over each yellowed page. “So that’s the connection to fire.” Maybe some of this stuff actually made sense.

He paused at a short spell, a smile lighting his face. “The token. I’ve got it.” He turned to Thomas, the open book in his hand, and crouched in front of him.
 

The words rolled off his tongue. Beads of sweat ran down Thomas’s forehead as he listened to the short spell, and at its completion, Thomas’s chest swelled. He flashed a brilliant smile, and the sides of his neck shrunk back to their normal size. He rose, lifting his arms over his head. For a moment, Celia was worried he’d whoop for joy and call attention. Instead, he pressed his hands over his mouth, staring at Oswald. His eyes glistened with sheer elation.

Oswald returned his smile. “Seems like it worked.” He lifted the book. “Now I just need to get this to William. And you two should get back to—”
 

A deep, wailing noise interrupted him.
The alarm.
Either the wardens had found Asmodeus, or the powerful plague spell had created an aura that triggered the alarms. Her throat went dry, and she gripped Oswald’s arm. “They’re coming for us. You don’t have time to get to William. Anyway, I’m not sure that I can say the portal spell without your help.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to travel with a potential psychopath, but his Angelic was certainly much better than hers.

Anger flashed across Oswald’s bloodied face. “I can’t go with you. I’m needed here. In Maremount.”

“What good are you dead?” she shot back. “Give me the spell. I have a plan.”
 

Oswald glared at her, gripping the book with one hand and a knife in the other.

“Now!” The force of her voice surprised even her.
 

Reluctantly, he handed it over, still holding on to his knife in case she decided to betray him.
 

“We’re going to send the spell with Odile.” She tore the spell from the book, making the page as small as possible before rolling it into a tiny scroll.
 

“Brilliant.” Thomas nodded, ripping a thread off his ragged clothes. Using the string, he secured the scroll.
 

As if understanding she was needed, Odile fluttered to Celia’s hand, perching on her finger. “Take this to William Corvin in the Tuckomock Forest,” she whispered.
 

Odile gripped the miniature scroll in her feet before fluttering toward the front door. Celia pulled the portal spell from her bodice, shoving it into Oswald’s hand. “You need to read this. Hurry.”

He frowned, glancing at the golden stand, and grabbed the marble bowl, tucking it under his arm.

She shook her head. “What are you doing?”

“If I’m going with you, I’m taking this.” He knitted his brows, scanning Celia’s spell. “This doesn’t take you to a place. It takes you to a person.”

“Whatever. Just read it. Just get us out of here.” She cringed at the hysteria in her voice.
Not very regal.
 

He glared, unwilling to leave his home. Just as he began chanting, the front door burst open. A horde of armed guards swarmed the room, swords clanking. Celia thought she saw one of them loose a fireball just before she heard Oswald utter the word
Tobias.

Tobias awoke with his arms wrapped around Fiona, a smile on his lips. She was lying against him, and his head rested on the wooden armrest.
 

An unquiet thought tickled the back of his mind.
What am I doing here?

He jolted with the realization that they were fully visible, lying outside the Williamsburg bus station. Fiona rested against him in her ripped ballgown, and Tobias wore only his singed black underwear. He was practically naked. He blinked in the bright sunlight. Cars were pulling into the parking lot. “Fiona.” He nudged her awake, and her head shot up.
 

She looked at him with horror before sitting up. A middle-aged woman in a floral dress shot them a dirty look, tutting as she walked past them into the station.
 

Alan slept near a flower bed, and Fiona jumped up to wake him before rousing Mariana.
What are we supposed to do now?
They would need to sneak in somewhere privately to make themselves invisible. But this entire task of fleeing Virginia would be near impossible without their own mode of transport. He didn’t want to panic Fiona, but had a growing feeling of unease about the fate of her mother.
 

A battered car with a smashed taillight pulled up to the station, and Tobias hunched over, hoping to avoid attention. A young man with spiked, green hair stepped out. He slammed his door, leaning against the hood of his car to squint at Tobias. “Good party last night?”

Tobias nodded. Maybe there was some way to get clothes off this guy. “It was quite a party.”

The green-haired boy pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping them in his palm. “You guys hear about the terrorist thing last night?”

There goes our plan to avoid attention.

“Oh? What did you hear about it?” Fiona pulled at the front of her dress, and her smile was as fake as the boy’s hair.
 

He pulled out a cigarette, popping it into his mouth. “Bunch of teenagers lit the Ranulf plantation on fire.” He flicked his lighter. “Rich kids. They’re all from a private school.”

Fiona’s voice was shaky. “You can’t trust anyone these days.”

The stranger took a long drag of his cigarette. “I don’t have a problem with it. I think all politicians probably deserve it anyway.” He seemed to study them intently. “But I imagine these rich kids wouldn’t want anyone finding out where they were.”

Tobias’s jaw clenched.
He’s going to try to blackmail us, isn’t he? Good luck with that. I’ve got nothing to give him beyond my burnt underwear.
He scrubbed at his face, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw something that froze the blood in his veins.
 

It must have been the Fury, drawn after them by his own guilty conscience. There was no other explanation. It was the people he’d left behind. Thomas, in the ragged uniform of a pearly cap, like the one Tobias’s mother had tried to sew for him. Celia dressed as a Throcknell princess. And Oswald—an avenging angel, draped in white silk and drenched with blood.
 

Tobias staggered to his feet. He pushed past the stranger, stumbling toward Oswald, who stalked toward him across the parking lot. The Fury was here to kill him, disguised in Oswald’s form. There was no point in trying to run.
 

Tobias tottered toward him on aching legs, kneeling down before him. “I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “I tried to save Eden. I thought she had the plague. She wouldn’t have—” He nodded, resigned. His voice cracked only a little when he spoke. “It’s all right. I know. You have to kill me.”

Oswald—the Fury—frowned. “What are you jabbling on about, you soft-headed pike-stroker?”

Tobias let out a long breath.
That’s no Fury.
He cocked his head, rising to gape at his blood-soaked friend. “Oswald?” He shot a glance at Thomas, clad in the tattered costume of a wealthy Maremount philosopher. “I don’t understand. How did you get here? Why aren’t you in Maremount?”

Thomas rubbed at the side of his neck. “We broke free from the Throcknell Fortress. We were nearly dead by the time we got to Celia. She helped us escape the city.”

Tobias’s jaw dropped. “No one breaks out of the Throcknell Fortress.”
 

Thomas shrugged. “Eirenaeus did. And he left me some clues.”

Oswald gripped a marble bowl in his hand.
“
Celia’s portal spell brought us to you. And I got us a Throcknell purse.” He reached into the bowl and grasped a handful of gold rocks the size of pebbles.

The philosopher’s stone.
Oswald wasn’t his avenging angel. Apparently, Oswald was his guardian angel.
It’s really him.
He stared, disbelieving, before gripping his friend in a hug.
 

“Careful.” Oswald pushed him off. “I’ve got gold bits.” He eyed Tobias’s burned underwear. “Nice outfit.” He nearly smiled, until he noticed the scar on Tobias’s chest, and his features darkened. “Please tell me that’s not a demon—”

Tobias waved a hand. “I’ll tell you later. Anyway, you don’t look any better than I do.”
Celia hadn’t spoken yet, and Tobias shot her a hard look. “The last time I saw you, you were selling us out to save your pearl-encrusted cousin.”

Her eyes glistened, and she looked like she wanted to hide her face behind her billowing white sleeves. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake.”

Thomas scratched his stubble. “She helped get us out. And she healed Oswald. You would not believe what we’ve been through.” His eyes were bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
 

Tobias’s head throbbed. He’d have to sort through all this later. Right now, he had a green-haired stranger to bribe. He nodded toward the gold. “We’re going to need that.”

*
 
*
 
*

A few handfuls of gold was enough to buy them silence, the car, the young man’s cell phone, and the cans of Diet Mountain Dew that went with it. Tobias could have kissed Oswald, if he weren’t still covered in dried blood. Fiona, Alan and Thomas took turns driving through the day. In between driving, Fiona dialed her mother’s number over and over, increasingly panicked that something had gone horribly wrong. Her mother always answered, she said.