Torment (Soul Savers Book 6) (42 page)

“Neither do I.
I’m pretty sure they’ll be all over Noah as soon as we
leave. I’m glad Char’s staying here to protect him.”

“I think we
should take him with us.”

I climbed the stairs
ahead of him and looked back as he closed the door. “What?”

“Charlotte needs
to focus on the campus and the people there. If they’re
attacked, we can’t have her attention and her powers divided.”

“What are we
going to do with him?”

“We’ll
leave him with T.J.”

I hit the landing and
turned toward him again to get a read on his face. He was dead
serious.

Owen and Char must have
been saying their goodbyes when we entered, because her reddened eyes
blinked rapidly and she threw her arms around me.

“You guys be
safe, you hear me?” she said, her voice tight and firm. “Don’t
do anything stupid. If you can’t get to them, then you come
back here, and we figure out a new plan. And no matter what, you be
back here by midnight. You understand?”

A small grin tried to
reach my lips. “You sound like my mom.”

“Good. She’d
want me to.” She tightened her embrace. “We need you,
Alexis. The Amadis do. Humanity …
I
do. You and that
baby are our hope. Maybe our last hope.”

I nodded against her
shoulder. “We’ll be careful, Char. I promise. And we’ll
be back in time. Then maybe you’ll finally tell me the story
about why Mom called you Charred sometimes.”

She chuckled. “We
get through this, kiddo, I’ll tell you, as frightfully
embarrassing as it is. I promise.”

Owen redid the bindings
on Noah so Tristan could use his power to force him along with us,
and then he created the portal. A moment later, we left our little
refuge—and what remained of our family—behind and stepped
through the portal. We’d decided earlier that appearing at the
Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, or anywhere else directly
on the Mall would be too conspicuous, so we’d picked the Thomas
Jefferson Memorial, which happened to have an entrance to the tunnels
underneath it. And, overlooking the calm waters of the Potomac Tidal
Basin, still happened to be my favorite site of them all.

Although, I didn’t
appreciate the Satanic symbols graffitied on the walls, the
colonnades, and even the interior of the shallow dome of the
pantheon-like structure. The peace I used to come here for was
snuffed out by the black magic that hung heavily in the air, singeing
my nose hairs, prickling my skin, and making my stomach clench. Sasha
let out a low growl, feeling it, too. I wondered how long anyone
could be surrounded by such evil before their soul dissolved into a
black, oozing pool. I could only hope ours were strong enough to
withstand it for as long as it would take to complete our mission.

While Tristan and Owen
situated Noah—they really were going to bind him to old Thomas’
statue that stood in the center of the domed portico—my eyes
fell on the quotes inscribed on the walls. I knew the excerpts from
the Declaration of Independence and letters to prominent statesmen by
heart from when I used to come here all the time. Certain parts stood
out to me now, though, as if a soft light illuminated them especially
for this moment.

Vanessa must have
noticed them, too, because she read aloud, “I have sworn upon
the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over
the mind of man.” She paused before saying, “I can’t
imagine a worse form of tyranny than Lucas controlling the world.”

With a nod, I turned to
the next one, my eyes skimming over the words: “We hold these
truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal …”
Mr. Jefferson and the rest of our founding fathers must not have
known about supernatural creatures posing as men. Or, maybe they had
and this line had more than one meaning—a statement to the
Daemoni that they would not bow down. That supernaturals were equal
to them. That evil would hold no power over them.

Unfortunately, evil
held as much power as people would give it, and today’s world
had given it too much. They’d fed the bad sides of themselves,
and not enough of the good, creating a gross imbalance. And now evil
would rule, and they would lose their liberties, if not their lives,
if we weren’t able to free them first.

With a heart growing
heavier by the moment, I read the next one out loud: “…with
a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually
pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”

The phrase felt like a
prayer, or perhaps an oath I was taking this very moment. I
hoped
we truly had the protection of God and the Angels. With no word from
Mom, Rina, or Cassandra, I had to believe they saw us on the right
path, doing what was necessary to win this war. Otherwise, they
really had abandoned us.

Owen continued casting
binding spells while Tristan held Noah in place, so with these
thoughts and ideals tumbling around in my mind, I wandered outside.
Both Vanessa and Sasha stuck close to my side, and we stopped at the
top of the marble steps that circled the monument, this side leading
down to the water. The memory of the last time I’d been here
came vividly. It’d been the night I’d first met Tristan,
Owen, and Vanessa, but I hadn’t known it at the time. I’d
been sitting here on these very steps, feeling as though someone
watched me. I knew now it had been them.

How the world had
changed since that night.

I lifted my gaze from
the smooth surface of the water reflecting the blue, late afternoon
sky and tried to peer across the basin to the Mall, toward the
Washington Monument and beyond it, the White House. My vision was
good enough to see that far, but trees still held onto enough of
their red, orange, and yellow leaves to block my view. The autumn
scene would have normally been breathtaking, but the yellow, hellish
haze blanketing the area diminished the beauty. As did the feeling of
trepidation that hugged me like a second skin, making both my insides
and outsides tremor with electrified nerves.

“They don’t
look right,” Vanessa said from right next to me, with her hands
on her hips as she also gazed across the water to the other side. A
few people meandered around the trees to the edge of the basin. “Look
how they walk.”

I nodded. “Must
be those zombies James mentioned.”

“Want me to run
over there and check it out?”

“Nah. We’re
not going that way. From what I can see through the trees, though, it
looks like there’s a bunch more on the Mall. I wonder why
they’re all here, but there weren’t any by the campus or
in Virginia.”

Vanessa tapped her
fingers against her hip. “My guess would be Lucas has them
contained here by choice.”

“To keep Normans
out of the area?”

“Bingo.”

“Heh,” I
said, shaking my head. “Zombie boobie traps. Who would have
thought?”

“Lucas would.”

I snorted. “Of
course. He’s such a sick freak.”

Her head turned for the
first time as she looked down at me. “You don’t know the
half of it, sister.”

“Let’s go,”
Tristan said from behind us.

With a last glance at
the zombies, we turned toward the shadowed interior of the monument,
where Noah was bound to the statue, back-to-back with Thomas, only
able to move his eyes and mouth. Owen shielded and cloaked the four
of us and Sasha, and we passed Noah as he glared at the red symbols
on the walls with a mix of hatred and awe in his eyes. He didn’t
give us so much as a cursory glance as we walked by, headed to the
door that led downstairs.

“Alexis,”
he suddenly murmured, and I turned to look at him from the doorway.
“Aim for directly under the right ear. It will put them to
sleep.”

“What?” I
asked.

He clamped his mouth
shut and stared straight ahead again.

Whatever
, I
thought as we went downstairs to the gift shop, which had been left
in a shambles. Shelves lay on their sides, and miniature replicas of
various monuments and several snow globes littered the floor.
Postcards and other pieces of memorabilia lay scattered everywhere,
too, never to be seen by another tourist again. I paused for a moment
to pick up a postcard of the sun setting over the monument before it
had been vandalized, folded it up, and stuffed it in my leather top
as my own souvenir for how the world used to be.

At the back of the shop
was a door to stairs that led downward. One flight down, we entered
what appeared to be an office under the monument with another door
leading off of it. Through there came more stairs, another two
flights downward, and then we entered the tunnel with a concrete
floor and white tiled walls displaying more offensive graffiti. If
the evil felt thick above ground, it was positively suffocating down
here. Sasha let out a soft whine.

“I know, girl.”
I reached up and rubbed the back of her head. “It hurts all the
way to the bones, doesn’t it?”

After Owen gave himself
a magical boost and provided a tiny point of light in the pitch
blackness, we sprinted through the tunnel that stretched far into the
darkness beyond. My internal compass felt as though we headed north,
which meant we ran under the Tidal Basin. Then we reached a few forks
that I figured meant we were under or near the Washington Monument.

“This way,”
Tristan said, turning right.

We ran for only a
moment when he stopped and the rest of us plowed into him. A horde of
Daemoni gathered not too far ahead, their voices carrying to us. The
stink of more zombies floated on the air. I assumed they guarded the
Capitol building. When I tried to reach out for mind signatures with
my faulty ability, I could barely grasp onto vampires and werewolves,
as well as a couple of were-felines.

“No Summoned or
Lucas here,” I whispered, unable to mind-talk.

“Let’s go
back and try a different way,” Tristan said.

We followed him through
the tunnels, finding a similar crowd of Daemoni and zombies at the
entrance to the White House, but still no Lucas or Summoned. Same
with the tunnel that led to the Lincoln Memorial.

“There’s
another way to the other side of the Capitol building,” Tristan
said. “They must be over there.”

“Do you think
it’s safe to flash?” Owen asked.

“Flash or
portal—if they want to trap us, they will. At this point, what
do we have to lose?” He took my hand and Vanessa’s.
“Sasha, hide.” The lykora shrunk down to her toy-dog
size, leapt into my arm, and then crawled into my jacket. “I’ll
lead the flash.”

We arrived in a grand,
round room with marble walls and columns that reached upwards toward
a dome that arced high overhead. The ceiling stretched down to large,
semicircular windows, separated by statues between them. Below the
windows were two rows of balconies displaying more statues and
archways, and then tall, rounded doorways on our level. We stood
among three rows of tables encircling the room with a round counter
and what appeared to be a service desk in the center, all made of
dark, polished wood. The extent of the room’s beauty and
majesty exceeded anywhere I’d ever been, including the Amadis
mansion.

“Where are we?”
I whispered.

“The vastest
collection of knowledge on Earth,” Tristan answered. “The
Library of Congress.”

Vanessa sniffed the
air. “Holding a vast collection of the Summoned and their
descendants in its belly.”

Reader-and-writer-girl
inhaled the intoxicating pulp-and-leather smell of old books and
wanted so badly to geek out. We were in the freakin’ Library of
Congress, surrounded by more books than my head could wrap itself
around. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury to bathe in its
glory. In fact, I’d probably never have such luxury again.

Vanessa, whose sense of
smell was even stronger than Tristan’s and mine, led us to the
far side of the room, through double doors, and across a corridor
that stretched to our right and left. Ahead, we entered a utilitarian
stairwell meant for employees and definitely not Congressmen and
dignitaries who visited the library. We left the polished marble and
wood behind for plain gray walls, darker gray rails, and concrete
stairs. Once again, we headed downward. Three flights down, we
entered another tunnel, but only walked a few yards before Vanessa’s
nose led us through a doorway and into a space that appeared to have
been a conference room.

Unlike the rooms and
halls of yesteryear above with their ornate murals, beautiful
sculptures, and fine details, this room belonged in today’s
world. The contrast reminded me of the difference between the media
room and the rest of the matriarch’s mansion. Much like our
media room, huge flat screens lined the walls of this room, but
rather than comfortable home-theater type seating, the rest of the
space was devoid of any furniture. Towers of stackable chairs stood
in one corner, leaving an expanse of gray commercial-grade carpet
stretching from wall to wall. In a time when the rest of the world,
or at least what we’d seen of it, had lost electrical power,
overhead fluorescent lights somehow illuminated the room.

Like the lights, the
monitors were somehow powered on and somehow connected to cameras
around the world. I figured the “somehow” must have been
magic, in the same way Amadis Island was powered. All of the screens
showed a similar scene, but at different locations with different
backgrounds. Norman super-soldiers lined up on the left side with
guns pointing at masses of human men, women, and children on the
right. The people on the screens appeared to be of various
nationalities, wailing, pleading, and crying for help in a multitude
of languages. One camera showed the Eiffel Tower in the background,
another the Egyptian pyramids, one snow-capped mountains, and yet
another what was obviously an American mall.