Entombed Read online

  “Wait, if he can fly… You’re right. Where the hell is he?”

  Heads up—landing.

  Jack still had nothing to hang on to, so a warning wasn’t particularly helpful.

  As soon as they’d come to a surprisingly gentle landing, Jack slid from Marin’s back to the ground.

  Her wings, usually tucked close to her body when she was at rest, were spread out and resting on the ground.

  He slashed the undersides of my wings.

  Disturbing on more than one level. “He can fly. Did we know that he can fly?”

  “No,” Marin said in her very real, very human voice as she stood up from her prone position on the ground. “Shirt?”

  Jack pulled off his T-shirt and handed it to her. “Worrisome that he knew exactly where to strike and damage you most.”

  She stretched out her arms and rolled her palms up, then proceeded to inspect the deep scratches that ran along the underside of both upper arms. They were already clotting. “A serious wound in one form can be much less so in the other.”

  Jack counted three furrows on each arm. “The fleshy part of your arm hardly seems debilitating. I get striking to diminish your mobility in the air—but why not come back and finish us off once you’re struggling to stay in flight? Why leave, and where is he?”

  “Not the vaguest. On a positive note, while you were chattering away, I was not only keeping us from crashing—”

  “Stellar job. Many thanks.”

  Marin inclined her head. “Once I figured out how to control the descent, I also scoped the area for Nate’s particular magical signature.”

  Jack grinned. “You found something.”

  “I did. The question is, do we investigate now?”

  The T-shirt he’d given her went to about mid-thigh, and a bare-chested man would hardly cause comment. And she seemed fit enough. “How far is it?”

  “Not far at all. I chased the signature as I landed.” Marin didn’t wait for him to decide, just turned on her heel and marched across the field to a road. Over her shoulder, she said, “We’re just outside our disappearing-rat town, by the way.”

  Jack trotted to catch up with her. “I’m having a hard time shaking this nasty mental image of some faceless guy with bat wings biting the heads off rats.”

  “That’s unusually specific.”

  He thought so too, and didn’t really want to know where the images came from, on the chance they were accurate. Because the images were bloody, detailed (minus the man’s face), and thoroughly disturbing.

  His phone rang just as they were approaching a church. It didn’t look particularly old. In fact, it appeared to be one of the newer concrete houses. “You’re sure?”

  Marin nodded and pointed to the back of the church as Jack answered his phone.

  He glanced at the caller ID then said, “Abi, is everything okay?”

  “Thank goodness you’re all right. Marin’s with you? She’s okay?”

  He paused. “Yes, but almost not. What do you know about it?”

  “Grandmother started rattling the china we left out on the table for her. We also made a kind of impromptu communication board for her, so it would be easier to catch her messages. It took a while to decipher the message, but basically she says you’re close to the cage and that you were in great danger. She did her best to chase away the beast, but didn’t know how long he’d stay gone.”

  “And that was it?” Jack had lost sight of Marin when she’d gone round the back of the church, and the mention of danger had him jogging to catch up.

  “Well, I was hoping you’d know what it all meant.”

  “Sorry, yes, I understand the message. The aswang attacked Marin. Apparently it can fly, something we hadn’t considered. But after its initial attack, it just disappeared. We were baffled, since it had a clear advantage.”

  “I’m baffled as to how my grandmother was able to chase it away. Thrilled—but baffled. Didn’t you tell me that spirits are usually tied to specific locations or people?”

  Jack spotted Marin standing in front of a small stone structure. “That’s my understanding. And I’d very much like to know how long the aswang is out of the picture. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and I’m not so certain Marin will be able to fly us back out to your place. We’re sitting ducks.” He came to a halt next to Marin.

  “I can fly us back,” she murmured, but her attention was on the small building.

  He covered the phone and said, “A crypt?”

  Marin shrugged. “Why not?”

  Jack removed his hand from the phone. “I think we’ve found something that might pass for a cage. Is that everything that your grandmother had to say?”

  “Yes,” Abi said. “Maybe her efforts against the aswang tired her? Or traveling so far from the shop or her ashes… But yes, that was all. Text me when you’ve arrived here and are safe home. Otherwise I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “We will. And thank your grandmother when she checks back in with you.” Jack ended the call. “So are we going to open this thing or what?”

  Marin blew out a breath and finally looked away from the little building. “Yes. Of course.” She shook her head. “It reeks of him, Jack. It’s a nasty stench.”

  “Since I’m not smelling anything, I’m guessing we’re talking about a magical signature stench.”

  She rubbed her forearm absently. “Yes. It’s a filthy feeling. You know how the stench of a corpse gets up in your nose and you can’t get it out?” Her nostrils flared.

  “But worse, because it’s not just your nose.”

  She shivered. “Exactly. But enough already. Let’s get this door open. You noticed it’s new?”

  “Yeah, really new. Maybe just within the last few weeks new. That’s not suspicious at all.”

  Marin tried the handle, but it didn’t turn. “How are we feeling about vandalism?”

  “I think we’re feeling pretty good, since I don’t have a way to pick the lock.”

  Marin gave the doorknob a forceful twist and then rammed it with her shoulder. Jack would have been black and blue, but Marin didn’t flinch, even with her recent injuries.

  The moonlight that had lit their path to the churchyard and crypt didn’t reach far inside the building, even with the door swung wide, so Jack used his cell to illuminate the small space. Inside was just enough room for a coffin-sized stone tomb. All they needed was for the lid of the tomb to slide to the side and an Egyptian mummy to sit up and they’d have a B-movie set.

  “Any chance you can shift that tomb?” he asked. “Because I’m not seeing anything in here that could lead to the pit of despair that I’m envisioning Nate inhabiting for the last however many years.”

  “I’ll just give it a shove to the side and see what that gets us, but they’re not usually moveable.”

  The harsh grate of stone moving against stone echoed in the tiny building.

  Marin dusted off her hands. “Okay—definitely not your usual tomb.”

  Jack stared down into the hole the tomb had covered. “I’m guessing there’s not usually a big hole in the ground under them, either.”

  “Affirmative. And the stench coming out of it makes me want to puke.”

  Since Marin had a stomach of iron, that was saying a lot. But it must have been the smell of magic because he didn’t smell anything but damp, musty earth.

  Jack tried to get a look inside, but it was just a dark hole. The light from his phone didn’t extend far enough to reach the bottom. Evidence pointed to Nate’s cage lying under the tomb and the hole as the likely entry and escape point. “So we’re agreed that this is Nate’s cage?”

  “Yeah. I can smell rodents, decay, and his magical signature. There are also faint traces of some other kind of magic—perhaps what bound him to the space.” Her voice came from behind him, near the entrance.

  Jack turned to find Marin standing in the doorway, her hand covering her nose and mouth. He tried to move the stone back in place, but
it didn’t budge. “Can you close it back up again? Just in case someone comes in to investigate, maybe notices the door and wants to poke around.”

  Marin took a breath and then quickly entered, shoved the stone tomb back over the hole, and exited again. Once they were outside the crypt with the door shut, she said, “There’s enough metal here that I can weld the door shut. Hopefully that will keep casual passersby from checking it out.”

  He expected a pinpoint, laser-like flash of fire, but Marin puffed gently on the mechanism. The air shimmered, but no colors or flames were visible. “That’s new.”

  She flashed her toothy dragon grin at him. “I’ve been experimenting with superheated air.”

  Terrifying. Basically, she could flash-boil flesh with a skill like that. Okay, pretty cool—but still terrifying.

  “I think we better haul ass, before Nate comes back. You overheard what Abi told me on the phone?”

  “I did. No clue how, but Grandma Abi was our savior, and I have no idea about the length of our reprieve. It’s been a while, so Grandma Abi must pack a vicious punch.” She gestured to an open area. “That spot will work, and should get a little further from the church.”

  “You think someone’s lurking in there in the middle of the night and didn’t bother to yell when we broke into their crypt?”

  “It’s actually more of a mausoleum, and you’re not the one running around naked and turning into a big, scaly beast. I really don’t want to do that on the doorstep of a church. It’s just weird.”

  She very intently stared ahead, refusing to look at him, so he bit back the laugh that had been about to erupt.

  “Okay. By the way, how has that crypt—or mausoleum or whatever you want to call it—not collapsed into the hole underneath it?”

  “Small, deep hole? Magic? I don’t know.”

  Jack snapped his fingers. “You said you felt traces of magic—other than the aswang’s. Could that be what’s holding the place together?”

  “Hm. Hard to say. I couldn’t identify it because it was so faint. For it to still function in some regard when there is so little of it left…I don’t know.” Marin stumbled to a stop. “Wait. I am so dense.”

  She wasn’t, but Jack didn’t argue. “Whatever epiphany you’ve had can wait till we’re airborne, right? We’re still under threat of attack.”

  “Dead people, Jack. That’s the key to our aswang problem.” Marin yanked off his T-shirt, chucked it at him, and became her dragon self.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dragon-Marin gingerly stretched out her wings. She tucked them against her body and spread them again. She gave a few little flutters then fell still.

  Come on.

  Marin’s voice in his head was impatient.

  He was feeling a little impatient himself. “What’s with the dead people?” He climbed up, again using the little ridge to leverage himself onto her back.

  I think the dead have some kind of power over Nate.

  As she took a deep breath, her sides expanded. Ah, this was likely to hurt. Jack kept his mouth shut while Marin launched herself in the air.

  It was a rockier ride this time. And while her wings must have healed a little as they’d investigated the crypt-mausoleum, she’d sustained deep flesh wounds. He didn’t know the specifics of how Marin accomplished flight—some bizarre combination of magic, brute strength, and gliding, but otherwise it was a mystery. He could see that her wings lacked the range of motion they’d had before, and yet they still managed to take off.

  Once their ascent stopped and Marin wasn’t working so hard to stay in the air, he asked, “What’s with the dead people?”

  Churches tend to be rebuilt on the same location. The church was new, but I’d bet you that the site has held some religious significance for a while.

  “And how does that help us? Oh, wait, you mentioned cemeteries. You think there was a cemetery there that isn’t marked any longer.” Jack dared a look down. As the world tilted, he quickly looked back ahead. The sky was cool. He could watch the sky. He didn’t need proof of how high they were or how very mortal he was. They didn’t

  Graves, yes. It may never have been a proper cemetery. And it’s possible I might have missed the presence of death magic in the mausoleum.

  “Oh, shit.” Death magic was bad. Very bad…and very powerful. “Shit. You think they sealed the cage with a sacrifice.”

  Possibly. Consider the historic cultural influences of the area. The Mayans believed in sacrifice, and some of those beliefs—especially if they conferred great power, as death magic does—might have persisted in the magical community. And we don’t know how long he was down there. Maybe long enough to have been interred during the reign of the Mayans.

  “But killing someone to supercharge the wards on a cage—that’s messed up.”

  Even if it saves a town from a rampaging beast?

  “You are not saying we consider it?”

  I’m not. Death magic is taboo for a reason. I’m just trying to explain what might have happened. We need to know how that cage was powered, and death magic would pack a pretty big punch.

  “Let’s go back to the dead people.”

  Right. If our guy’s weakness is the dead, that explains how Grandma Abi was able to chase him away. It might also explain the cage’s location. If that area is a forgotten cemetery or gravesite, then placing the cage there would make sense. Being surrounded by the dead either made him weaker or somehow fed into the ward that surely must have been wrapped around the cage to contain him.

  “I see what you’re saying, but there are some serious issues here. The evidence we have is very limited, and—”

  Are you doubting my deductive skills?

  “I think you’re guessing—does that count?”

  That weird grumbly noise echoed in his head.

  “Don’t do that. It’s seriously creepy.” Jack paused, considered his current elevation, and added, “And your deductive reasoning is stellar.”

  Your second concern?

  “Assuming you’re right and that location holds some power, why in the hell would Nate go anywhere near it?”

  We already knew that was a challenge.

  True.

  “Well, more so than we expected. It’s not just about the cage, but about the power of the location. I wouldn’t go near that place, if I’d been locked up for decades, or maybe even centuries.”

  We count on ego. A massive, ancient, powerful being’s ego. All other creatures are merely little things that scurry below. Trust me. If anyone knows about ego, it’s me. You’ve met Lachlan and my dad, right?

  Jack winced at the mention of her dad. Yet another reason to wrap this mess up fast. Not that the imminent murder of another townsperson wasn’t motivation enough. Damn, he was tired.

  Heads up: we’re about to land.

  He should have realized, because for a while now they’d been gliding.

  They touched down with only a few bobbles. Jack slid off her back and went to fetch her clothes at a jog. He found them in a pile nearby, scooped them up, and headed back in her direction—but she was still in dragon form. Still lying on the ground, the position she’d taken so he could more easily hop off her back.

  Her wings were outspread and resting on the ground, as were her long neck and even her chin. If he couldn’t see the glint in over-bright green eyes, he’d have thought she’d passed out.

  “Are you okay?”

  I hurt. And I’m tired.

  That wasn’t a very Marin-like admission. Then again, her dad had never been AWOL before.

  “Uh, would you hurt less in your human form?”

  Puffs of steam came out of her nostrils in a very dragonlike sigh.

  He laid the clothes out next to her, then scanned the house for any signs of Abi.

  He was untangling his cell from the harness they’d rigged so he could more easily text her, when Marin said, “She’s headed this way.”

  First he checked that he’d actua
lly heard Marin’s voice with his ears and not in his head, and, finding her very human self standing behind him, he followed her gaze until he spotted Abi.

  The poor woman was dressed in a nightgown, robe, and tennis shoes with no socks. He pocketed his phone and then lifted a hand in greeting.

  He and Marin headed in her direction. When they caught up with her, she nodded toward the house. “There’s coffee or tea if you’re interested. I know you’ve both got to be tired.” She frowned and peered closer at Marin. “And I can have a quick look at your wounds.”

  The wounds had clotted earlier, but that was before Marin had flown them who knew how many miles. They weren’t bleeding profusely, but enough to seep through the material of her shirt in just the short time she’d been dressed.

  Marin glanced at one of her bloody sleeves. “That’s probably not a terrible idea. Maybe a poultice? A little yarrow…”

  “I’ve got a special recipe that should do just the trick,” Abi said. “Let’s head up to the house. Iris took a sleeping pill, so I doubt anything short of a bugle will wake her at this point.”

  Jack could smell the coffee as soon as they walked into the house. “I would love a cup of coffee. Can I help myself while you patch up Marin?” When Abi nodded, Jack asked, “Can I get anything for you guys?”

  Marin and Abi replied in the negative, so Jack fetched his coffee. There were mugs, sugar, and a small pitcher of milk sitting next to a pot of French press coffee. It looked like Abi had been up and waiting for a little while.

  He grabbed his mug and joined the ladies at the kitchen table. Abi was applying the poultice she’d already made to Marin’s right arm. She met Jack’s gaze and said, “Grandmother told me Marin had been injured, so I gathered a few supplies.”

  Jack couldn’t believe their luck. “When was this? And what else did she have to say?”

  “She popped in briefly; I’m not sure when. She wants to know what your plan is.”

  Jack wouldn’t mind knowing that himself. “Do you know when she’ll back in touch?”

  “I asked, and she says keeping an eye on you guys has been pretty exhausting.” Abi gave Marin and Jack a critical look. “Maybe you guys can try to get in less trouble?”