Page 55 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

Stepping up to Caedmon’s cell, I thrust the book at him. “Your book of prophecies is no longer speaking,” I tell him. “We need answers and it’s remained blank ever since you ... were brought here.”

Caedmon doesn’t take the book from me; instead, his eyes are on the light hovering over us. “What’s wrong with your powers?” he demands.

I grit my teeth and tap one of the tooth-like bars of his cells with the edge of the tome to get his attention back to the matter at hand. “The book, Caedmon,” I say. “I need to know why it isn’t giving us any more information.”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, his hand shoots out between the bars and latches on to my wrist. I jerk in surprise as the book falls from my hands and clatters to the ground, pages flying open as dust rises up. Caedmon’s nearly black eyes seek mine out and he doesn’t even seem to notice that the sharper edges of the bars are digging into his hand.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I glance down to find that blood has already started to pour from his wounds, plopping onto the dirty stone beneath our feet. “Fuck, Caedmon.” I try to yank myself away, but he grips tighter.

“You didn’t,” he hisses. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Frowning, I attempt to pry him from my wrist with the fingers of my free hand. “Didn’t what?” I snap. “What are you talking about?”

“TheTraiectusCeremony.”

My fingers stop tearing at his as I turn my head to Ariadne at her answer. “The what?”

“The ceremony of transference,” Caedmon snaps, shaking me slightly. The movement causes the sides of the bars to slice into him even more. Blood drips faster over his flesh onto the floor.

“I don’t…” I blink and try to remember the night of the Cleansing. Images of fire and statues and wine and … skin on my skin invade my head. Despite the drink that Kalix had forced us to take to ease the pain afterward, merely trying to recall that night still leaves me with a lingering sense of foreboding and soreness at my temples.

“Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Ariadne suggests. Her voice is calming.

I do as she commands. In through my nose, inhaling until my chest squeezes with the lack of space and then expelling it through my mouth. I repeat the action several times, dimly hearing her voice, though she’s not talking to me. After the pain in my head eases, I blink my eyes open, realizing that I shut them, and find that my arm has been released and Caedmon is standing back from the bars, staring at me with an unfamiliar expression on his face.

“I don’t know what theTraiectusCeremony is,” I repeat. “But the Gods called us for a Cleansing ceremony a few nights ago.”

Caedmon continues to stare at me, not speaking. It’s Ariadne that steps forward and begins asking me questions. “What did they have you do?” she demands.

“I…” The pain from before lingers at the edges of my mind as if waiting for a chance to come racing back. “I don’t really remember much,” I finally say. “It was held in the garden of statues,” I tell her. “There was a large fire and we were told to rub the ashes on ourselves when they fell on us.”

Her face blanches. “Was there drink there?” she asks.

“Yes.” I nod, that much clear in my mind. “It tasted so good … the best thing I’ve ever had. There was music and everyone danced.” The wine, though, that was what I still remember. My stomach turns and gurgles with need. My hands shake as I raise them to my head. “The wine was?—”

“It wasn’t wine.” Ariadne’s voice interrupts my words.

I look at her. “It wasn’t?”

“It was a spell,” Caedmon finally says, his voice guttural and strained. “A very old spell meant to transfer the abilities of the strong to the weak.”

“One of the side effects is the loss of inhibition and memory,” Ariadne says.

The sense of something lost that I’d felt the morning after the Cleansing ceremony returns with full force. Slowly, I lower my hands to my sides and stare at the two Gods. The only thing separating us are the fangs of their cages. My mind is drawing conclusions from their words, but I’m afraid to confirm them.

The light above us flickers again. This time, no one looks at it. My back aches. My skull pounds. More sweat dampens my palms and I close my eyes to try to keep my emotions contained as I focus more energy on keeping that little flame burning. I’ve never had to work this hard and that is yet another piece of evidence that I no longer need.

“They didn’t take it all,” I murmur, reopening my eyes once the light flares a bit and I feel more in control. “Why?”

Ariadne shakes her head, her forehead puckering as the two silver lines of her brows draw together. “I don’t…” She doesn’t finish the statement, choosing instead to look at Caedmon as he speaks.

“TheTraiectusCeremony can be performed by itself,” he states. “But in combination with two others, it can cause great catastrophe.”

“What kind of catastrophe?” I demand. My heart pounds inside my chest, the sound growing louder in my ears.

His eyes leave mine and go to the ground. I trail him and realize he’s staring at the book. Reaching down, I pick it up and hold it back out to him. It might be a little difficult to get it through the bars without him getting cut, but he reaches for it this time and finagles it through the slender openings where the bottom teeth and top ones meet.

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