Read Online Labyrinth (Book 5) by Kat Richardson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kat Richardson
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could be attacked and Wygan’s plan could begin to move into its final phase—and no, I don’t know why he needs Edward either. When I met Alice in London, she told me the man who killed me did it under her influence. I had every reason to believe her.”
“Is she still out there, then?” Mara asked.
I took a couple more deep breaths before I answered, tamping down a sudden spike of nauseous memory. “No. I killed her. I dropped her head into some kind of magical hole and left the rest to rot. I don’t feel bad about it: She helped kill me and she helped keep my dad a prisoner.”
Mara shook her head, her coppery brows pinching together. “You’ve lost me. When was your father a prisoner?”
“He still is. Wygan has his ghost in some kind of magical . . . oubliette—sort of a one-way prison hole. Two birds with one stone: leverage against me if I refuse to do what he wants, and a chance to torment Dad for kicking over the traces in the first place. Wygan’s like that: He carries grudges for a long time. This business with Edward seems to go back to something that happened between them in England two or three hundred years ago. When I called you guys from Los Angeles, I was trying to find my dad’s ghost, but all I could get was the ghost of his receptionist and a big, fiery hole where Dad should have been and a really pissed-off guardian beast running around it whenever I got close.”
“ The Guardian Beast,” Mara said in an absent manner, biting at her lower lip and staring into nothing.
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“If it’s running around something like that at the edge of the Grey, it’s not just any guardian beast; it’s the Guardian Beast, protector of the Grey.”
I felt my own eyebrows draw down as I peered at her. “I thought there were a lot of guardian beasts.”
“In general, there are,” Ben put in. “Lots of them. Lots of types of them, too, guarding all sorts of things. But as Mara said, there’s just the one for the Grey. At least that’s what my—our—research shows.”
Out of the blue, Mara asked, “How do you know your father’s in an oubliette?”
That startled me a little. “I was told, but the hole I found at the site where he died kind of reminded me of the place Marsden tried to shove me into—the same hole I dropped Alice into.”
“Hm. I can’t say I’m knowin’ enough about how the Grey works to tell you if such a thing is possible without a spell in place, but a spell can be undone.”
“The one I found in London wasn’t created by a spell. It was more like a . . . black hole: Things around it had warped the magical landscape until it sort of folded on itself. It was kind of a magical vortex around a tree in a graveyard.”
“Hardy’s tree?” Mara asked. “At St. Pancras Old Church?”
I nodded. Being from Ireland, Mara must have at least heard of most of the magical oddities in the British Isles, even if she hadn’t seen them herself.
She pursed her lips. “Oh. Yes. Something like that is going to be a lot harder to extract anyone from.”
“Yeah, but I suspect Dad’s not locked down quite as thoroughly as Wygan thinks.”
She raised her eyebrows into quizzical arches. “Oh? Why ever do y’think that?”
“Because I keep getting hints. I’ve had several brushes with—not really ghosts, but energetic things like poltergeists and collective entities. They keep calling me ‘little girl.’ That was my dad’s nickname for me, and crazy as it sounds, I think he’s been trying to warn me in whatever way he can. I have a feeling that if I can get to him, he might know something about Wygan’s plans and how to stop them.”
“If that’s so, then you’ll have to be findin’ a way to your father’s ghost.”
I nodded. “I don’t think that’s going to be easy, what with the Guardian Beast around and that . . . fiery whatever in the way, but I would guess that the guy who killed me two years ago might have a few clues. He’s
“Is she still out there, then?” Mara asked.
I took a couple more deep breaths before I answered, tamping down a sudden spike of nauseous memory. “No. I killed her. I dropped her head into some kind of magical hole and left the rest to rot. I don’t feel bad about it: She helped kill me and she helped keep my dad a prisoner.”
Mara shook her head, her coppery brows pinching together. “You’ve lost me. When was your father a prisoner?”
“He still is. Wygan has his ghost in some kind of magical . . . oubliette—sort of a one-way prison hole. Two birds with one stone: leverage against me if I refuse to do what he wants, and a chance to torment Dad for kicking over the traces in the first place. Wygan’s like that: He carries grudges for a long time. This business with Edward seems to go back to something that happened between them in England two or three hundred years ago. When I called you guys from Los Angeles, I was trying to find my dad’s ghost, but all I could get was the ghost of his receptionist and a big, fiery hole where Dad should have been and a really pissed-off guardian beast running around it whenever I got close.”
“ The Guardian Beast,” Mara said in an absent manner, biting at her lower lip and staring into nothing.
“Pardon me?” I asked.
“If it’s running around something like that at the edge of the Grey, it’s not just any guardian beast; it’s the Guardian Beast, protector of the Grey.”
I felt my own eyebrows draw down as I peered at her. “I thought there were a lot of guardian beasts.”
“In general, there are,” Ben put in. “Lots of them. Lots of types of them, too, guarding all sorts of things. But as Mara said, there’s just the one for the Grey. At least that’s what my—our—research shows.”
Out of the blue, Mara asked, “How do you know your father’s in an oubliette?”
That startled me a little. “I was told, but the hole I found at the site where he died kind of reminded me of the place Marsden tried to shove me into—the same hole I dropped Alice into.”
“Hm. I can’t say I’m knowin’ enough about how the Grey works to tell you if such a thing is possible without a spell in place, but a spell can be undone.”
“The one I found in London wasn’t created by a spell. It was more like a . . . black hole: Things around it had warped the magical landscape until it sort of folded on itself. It was kind of a magical vortex around a tree in a graveyard.”
“Hardy’s tree?” Mara asked. “At St. Pancras Old Church?”
I nodded. Being from Ireland, Mara must have at least heard of most of the magical oddities in the British Isles, even if she hadn’t seen them herself.
She pursed her lips. “Oh. Yes. Something like that is going to be a lot harder to extract anyone from.”
“Yeah, but I suspect Dad’s not locked down quite as thoroughly as Wygan thinks.”
She raised her eyebrows into quizzical arches. “Oh? Why ever do y’think that?”
“Because I keep getting hints. I’ve had several brushes with—not really ghosts, but energetic things like poltergeists and collective entities. They keep calling me ‘little girl.’ That was my dad’s nickname for me, and crazy as it sounds, I think he’s been trying to warn me in whatever way he can. I have a feeling that if I can get to him, he might know something about Wygan’s plans and how to stop them.”
“If that’s so, then you’ll have to be findin’ a way to your father’s ghost.”
I nodded. “I don’t think that’s going to be easy, what with the Guardian Beast around and that . . . fiery whatever in the way, but I would guess that the guy who killed me two years ago might have a few clues. He’s
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