Inception (The Reaping Chronicles, 1) (48 page)

“She sent them into a slaughter under the guise of redemption,” Gabrielle said in a whisper.

Cecily knew who she was. She knew Javan. What would be the motivation be to lure Gabrielle out to the middle of nowhere for a fake attack on a group of teenagers?

All at once, Gabrielle knew why.

“Lucas!”

Chapter Seventy-six

Lucas ~ The Book of Barabbadon

Javan walked to the rear of his car, and like the door that seemed to open by itself back at the gym, the trunk opened for him before he put a hand on it. It was as if an invisible chauffeur was always several steps ahead of him.

Lucas didn’t know what Javan was getting, and he didn’t care. He took the opportunity to look back in the car at Gabby, who still seemed to be out of it. He sighed and started to turn back around. He hoped Javan would let her go after he got the book, but he wasn’t sure if either of them would make it out of this.

Just as he was about to fully face the direction he’d originally turned from, something landed hard against his chest, knocking him into the car. What had felt like a railroad tie when it hit him was now in his arms, and was just a simple long-handled shovel. He looked up at Javan. The smug smile plastering his face was exactly what Lucas had imagined during their conversation in the car.

“I have to dig up the book you want?”

“That’s right.” The voice didn’t come from Javan or either of the occupants in the car. It came from his left, and it belonged to a female.

Because of the shadow she was walking through, all he could see of the woman was her black knee-high boots. As she moved closer, the light rose up her body until he could see her face. He knew from the red eyes that she was a vampire.

An exceptionally beautiful vampire.

Like with the Elders, once he looked at her eyes, he was unable to look away. He hated this feeling. And tonight he didn’t need to feel any weaker or more useless than he already did. Once again, he was caught in the midst of yet another being who was more powerful than he was in every way.

She stopped in front of him. She was so close he could smell her—rosemary and lemon. His two favorite scents. Lucas felt the desire to move closer to her so he could enjoy the scent more.

She leaned in, inhaling deeply near his neck, then moved back enough to meet his gaze. “Mmm … yummy.”
She licked her lips slowly.

He was suddenly aware he couldn’t, or didn’t want to, move. His heart pounded harder in his chest than he thought possible. She was surely able to see the rhythm of the blood thrust through the veins traveling up his neck that she was staring at intently.

“Cecily,” Javan said from behind her.

Cecily looked away briefly. It was long enough to release Lucas from the hold she had on him. His hand flew to his chest, and he sharply sucked in air. He hadn’t realized he’d failed to take a breath since she first looked at him. It was the same experience he had the last time he was face to face with a vampire, only this time, Gabrielle wasn’t capable of saving him.

“Cecily, I know you’d like to have fun with Lucas,” Javan said as he made his way to her, “but we need him alive. And we don’t have time for games—even though I’d love to play a few of my own.” Javan glared at Lucas, then smiled and kissed Cecily from behind on her neck. Cecily didn’t hide her enjoyment. She closed her eyes and placed her hand behind Javan’s head, pressing him harder into her. When he was finished, Javan moved away from Cecily, positioning himself between her and Lucas. “Here’s what you need to do. Take these directions into the cemetery, and when you get to the point where it’s buried, dig. When you find it, bring it back to me, and I’ll release Gabrielle. Do you think you can handle that,
human
?” Javan continued to glare; his black eyes seemed to be rummaging through Lucas’s mind. Lucas wondered if he’d always been like this.

How could Gabby love someone so malicious?

“Yeah,” Lucas answered dryly. “I can handle it.”

Lucas studied the small piece of paper in his hand. A rough map of the cemetery and its tombs were drawn on it. There were simple instructions written below the map. Lucas glanced at Javan, avoiding Cecily’s gaze. He didn’t want to be spellbound again.

“Are you going with me?”

Javan grinned. It wasn’t meant to be friendly. “You’re on your own. We’ll be waiting here—with Gabrielle.” Javan’s smile turned back into a sneer. “Make sure you move quickly and quietly. I’ve taken steps to ensure a certain amount of time for you to be alone in there, but I won’t be able to keep people away long. Especially tonight.”

Javan stood and stared; the expression on his face showed his growing annoyance. “GO!”

The sound of his voice was less than human. Lucas jumped, his heart lurching for several beats, remedying the feeling of being unable to move. Lucas’s feet seemed to be moving without his prompting, likely his mind trying to force his body to flee to safety. He knew that wasn’t possible, so he forced his mind to slow down.

He stopped at the opening of the cemetery and looked at the unadorned white pillars flanking the passage between the walls that ran the entire border of the cemetery grounds. Spanning across the top between the pillars was an iron cross that any who entered would have to pass under. Lucas recognized where he was. As he read the simple plaque on the side of the entry, the words confirmed it.

“Saint Louis Cemetery Number One.” Lucas spoke the words aloud and stepped into one of New Orleans’s cities of the dead.

The caw of a crow came from above. Hair stood on the back of his neck and down his arms. He didn’t bother to look up. He knew by now what he’d see. The crow cawed again as if to protest not gaining his attention. Lucas kept his eyes down, focusing on the piece of paper in his hand. He read the directions and went to his left as it indicated, then proceeded to the next to last walkway on the right.

As he walked, Lucas tried to calm his mind and nerves. He recalled the trip he took two years earlier with his grandmother to try to stop focusing on Javan, Cecily, Mara, and Gabby’s condition—to distract himself from thinking of crows.

They’d come here on a cemetery tour during a long weekend get-away because it was supposed to be one of the most haunted places in the world. Lucas found the idea silly at the time, and he caught himself laughing humorlessly at his ignorance. Now, he knew spirits and far worse existed.

He came to the next step in the directions and made the right, then the next to last right. The cemetery was spookier now than the first time he’d been there. He was here at night then, too, but this time, he was aware there were things lurking in shadows.

“Now I believe in monsters and fairytales,” he said under his breath.

The map showed he needed to follow the path he was on to its end. It wasn’t far, according to the drawing, and made an L shape. He was supposed to dig where the path ended, so he followed it until it did. Except for a narrow space between the tombs to his left that led to another path, he was completely shielded from view.

Lucas stuffed the piece of paper into his front pocket and slammed the spade into the earth. Maybe it was soft ground or anger trying to escape his body. Maybe it was the book, under who knew how many layers of soil, helping in some way because it wanted to be free, but for whatever reason, Lucas was able to remove the dirt with little effort.

He felt eyes on him, watching what he was doing. He didn’t want to see whatever the eyes belonged to, so he never took his attention off the ground he was butchering. Every time he stabbed it, he wished it was Javan, or a vampire, that he was ripping apart instead of a bunch of dirt. Through the anger and terror, he had a profound need to hold Gabby safely in his arms.

She’s all that matters right now
.

He didn’t know if he’d survive the night, but he would do anything he could to save her.

As he raised the shovel again and thrust it into the ground, it hit something hard. The force caused his hand to slip down the wood handle, shoving a splinter that felt like a chopstick into his palm.

Lucas dropped the shovel and grasped his hand, bending over in pain as he tried to stifle a cry. The last thing he needed was to give Javan another reason to get rid of him. He could stay quiet if it kept the situation he was in more stable.

As he stared at his palm, a stream of blood dripped from his hand onto the dirt he’d ripped from its home. He looked at the fresh earth he had exposed—smelling its scent, realizing the pain it would have been in from his abuse if it were capable of feeling. With all that he had learned existed in the world, what he thought were impossible things, that lived and breathed—could
feel
—the idea that dirt could feel pain from the beating he inflicted upon it became less unrealistic.

“I guess you got me back,” he said to the dirt.

Lucas turned his attention to his palm and picked as much of the splinter out of his hand as he could. It came out mostly in one big, painful piece, but little ones were still embedded in his skin. Something he’d have to take care of later.

“If I have a later,” he mumbled, not wanting to speak the words too loudly. He hoped he and Gabby would make it through all of this somehow.

He directed his attention back to the hole, more specifically to whatever it was he’d hit. Alternating between his hands and the shovel, he finally was able to bring up a box. He studied it for a few seconds, wiping dirt from it as he did. The box was made out of wood. It didn’t look like much. He wondered how old it was and why the book in it was so important. More importantly, he wondered why it needed to be buried in order to keep it out of someone’s, or something’s, possession?

Lucas placed the box on the ground. He raised the spade, bringing it down just above the lock. It didn’t break. He was surprised by its resolve, considering the decaying timber it was attached to. He raised the shovel again, and with this attempt, he dredged up as much strength, anger, and frustration as he could and struck it again. It surrendered, along with most of the front panel. A gust of cold wind pushed around him. Lucas crouched down and tried to look into what remained of the book’s coffin. He could see a deep red cloth but nothing else. He reached into the box, moving the remaining pieces of wood that continued to keep it in its confines.

When he pulled it out, he was amazed at how heavy it was. He’d thought the weight was the result of the box, but it was the book. It didn’t appear to be big, maybe the size of a small paperback. And even though it must have been in the ground for a long time, it looked as if it had just been placed inside. The fabric was unfaded, clean, and completely dry. As he unwrapped the book, it seemed to get heavier and bigger. By the time it was entirely lit by moonlight, it was the size of a coffee table book and at least four inches thick. The cover was made from leather, embossed with a symbol of a sword with a snake coiling up its blade. Raised lettering made out of some kind of metal was attached. Lucas ran his fingers over the cover.

A foggy image of a man dressed in clothes from long ago, sobbing over a body, flashed in his mind—the faint scream of a woman and children crying for their father accompanied the vision. Lucas shook his head, trying to clear his mind. The image and sounds disappeared.

What was that?

Lucas didn’t have time to dwell on it. He angled the book to catch more of the light, wanting to read the title.

“The Book of Barabbadon.”

Lucas felt another movement in the air, this time from directly above him. It pushed down around his body. He froze, not sure of what to do. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer and began to wrap the Book back in the cloth. He felt its size and weight change. This time, in reverse, larger and heavier to lighter and smaller. He would’ve studied it more carefully out of sheer curiosity if it weren’t for feeling he was being scrutinized by a growing number of eyes. He really didn’t want to stay around and find out what had just disturbed the air above him, either.

Once he had it wrapped and secured again, he turned and started back, all the while feeling eyes boring into him.

At one point, he was sure he heard his name called from above, but there was no chance he was going to look up and chitchat with something flying silently over him. He almost did, thinking it might be an angel who would help him, but he decided his luck hadn’t been the best lately and continued to make his way back to Gabby. As soon as he turned the corner to where he’d left her, his heart skipped a beat. Gabby stood between Mara and Javan but was still in need of support. Javan had his arm around her back and waist. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her eyes were still closed.

But she was alive.

Lucas didn’t know how much longer she could have those bindings around her before it was too late, and he wondered how long it would be before she would be strong enough for the two of them to get back home.

If that moment ever came.

As he approached, Javan’s stony face split into a true smile of self-gratification. He’d gotten what he wanted. Lucas stopped about fifteen feet from where the three stood. Someone was missing.

Cecily was nowhere to be seen.

Then, she dropped out of the sky beside Javan and gracefully landed next to him, leaning to whisper something to him.

Javan’s smile broadened. “You have the Book.” Javan put his hand out to Lucas.

“I have it. But I want you to send Gabby over to me without the bindings.”

Lucas tried his best to look stern while he struggled to keep from losing the contents of his stomach. The corners of Javan’s mouth dropped; his eyes seemed to grow an even murkier shade of black.

He raised Gabby’s head and whispered something in her ear, then unbound her—letting the bindings drop to the ground. They immediately lost their glow and looked like a length of ordinary thick rope you’d get from any hardware store.

Gabrielle opened her eyes briefly and looked at Lucas. “Lucas.”

She barely got his name out. She was weak.