Read Online The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leanna Renee Hieber
Ads: Link
conduction. The spirit shrieked in Percy’s ears, and the fortitude of his vile proclamations was renewed.
“Bind,” Alexi called. The group formed a circle, save Jane and Percy. Without taking his eyes from the victim, he knew precisely where his betrothed had sunk into a seat. He transferred one cord of light into the palm opposite, as if they were luminous reins, and his swift hand caught her arm and pulled her up and into the circle where a bond of bluish flame connected each heart in light. A woven star that for years had known six now had seven points.
Percy felt The Guard’s power, but there was another sensationhere, something else pressing in: the unwelcome and stifling dread of death. Then there came a laugh—Michael’s soft laugh—and she could breathe again.
The moment all hands clasped, Alexi shouted in their unknowable tongue, “Hark.” Music burst tangibly into the air, magic that this union alone created, called sharply into service by their leader. It was lovely, coming partly from the air and partly from their throats, drawing now into a sweet pianissimo.
For a moment the spirit writhing in Van Courtland seemed to listen. The possessed man then began to shake so violently that Jane could hardly control him. He flopped about, gasping for air in a hideous display. Jane swung her arm over him, now bending over his torso, her glowing, healing hand pressed directly to his heart. Maintaining life was a struggle, and she nearly had to pound upon his chest. He was hideous, his skin inhuman, flickering from pale to bruised to rotting before their eyes. Each horrific shift, Jane countered with a renewed healing burst. But she was tiring.
“Alexi,” she called softly, and with a fierce cry he threw an arm toward the floor. There was a veritable explosion as he, in his rich and masterful voice, issued a powerful torrent of an otherworldly chant that Percy could compare only to an Old Testament proclamation from God. The possessor hissed as if scalded, and the nauseating metamorphoses of Van Courtland ceased.
The group heaved a huge communal breath, and their circle closed in. Rapt, Rebecca suddenly rattled off a philosophical admonishment that Percy believed was from Sophocles. The spirit growled and hurled unspeakable curses toward her, and Percy gasped until Alexi tossed a fireball down its throat, sufficiently garbling the sound.
“Thank you,” Percy murmured.
“I wish you were as deaf as we tonight, dear,” Alexi offered.
Van Courtland’s body was now bound wholly by flame, and a peculiar chant Alexi named the Cantus of Disassembly flowed from The Guard, a music connected with wind, heartbeats and eternity, bequeathed to their minds and hearts many years ago upon the Grand Work’s birth within them. Yet it was somehow familiar to Percy.
There came one last gruesome gasp. Dark fluid was rustling beneath Van Courtland’s nearly transparent flesh, in patterns as if he were full of liquid marble. Whether this was blood or the spirit’s vile, vaguely tangible essence, it could not be determined, but whatever purity and magic the assembled company had brought to the air, it was being fouled by noxious gases from the usurped body, slipping out every orifice and leaking from beneath his fingernails.
Percy felt her stomach heave. Jane was rotating the star of her palm in slow curves over Van Courtland’s body, leaving traces of light hovering there, a misty shroud of a Celtic knot. Her healing white light and Alexi’s blue light of purification now bound together over Van Courtland. A punctuation rose to each of their lips, Percy included, and their incredible benediction lulled into a final “Shhh.”
In a puff of sour-smelling smoke and with a final damning curse, the spirit at last departed the ravaged body of its victim. The group saw their foe for what it was, so rotted and disintegrated that it was but shreds of skin and muscle. This decomposed form lifted up to hover before them,
“Bind,” Alexi called. The group formed a circle, save Jane and Percy. Without taking his eyes from the victim, he knew precisely where his betrothed had sunk into a seat. He transferred one cord of light into the palm opposite, as if they were luminous reins, and his swift hand caught her arm and pulled her up and into the circle where a bond of bluish flame connected each heart in light. A woven star that for years had known six now had seven points.
Percy felt The Guard’s power, but there was another sensationhere, something else pressing in: the unwelcome and stifling dread of death. Then there came a laugh—Michael’s soft laugh—and she could breathe again.
The moment all hands clasped, Alexi shouted in their unknowable tongue, “Hark.” Music burst tangibly into the air, magic that this union alone created, called sharply into service by their leader. It was lovely, coming partly from the air and partly from their throats, drawing now into a sweet pianissimo.
For a moment the spirit writhing in Van Courtland seemed to listen. The possessed man then began to shake so violently that Jane could hardly control him. He flopped about, gasping for air in a hideous display. Jane swung her arm over him, now bending over his torso, her glowing, healing hand pressed directly to his heart. Maintaining life was a struggle, and she nearly had to pound upon his chest. He was hideous, his skin inhuman, flickering from pale to bruised to rotting before their eyes. Each horrific shift, Jane countered with a renewed healing burst. But she was tiring.
“Alexi,” she called softly, and with a fierce cry he threw an arm toward the floor. There was a veritable explosion as he, in his rich and masterful voice, issued a powerful torrent of an otherworldly chant that Percy could compare only to an Old Testament proclamation from God. The possessor hissed as if scalded, and the nauseating metamorphoses of Van Courtland ceased.
The group heaved a huge communal breath, and their circle closed in. Rapt, Rebecca suddenly rattled off a philosophical admonishment that Percy believed was from Sophocles. The spirit growled and hurled unspeakable curses toward her, and Percy gasped until Alexi tossed a fireball down its throat, sufficiently garbling the sound.
“Thank you,” Percy murmured.
“I wish you were as deaf as we tonight, dear,” Alexi offered.
Van Courtland’s body was now bound wholly by flame, and a peculiar chant Alexi named the Cantus of Disassembly flowed from The Guard, a music connected with wind, heartbeats and eternity, bequeathed to their minds and hearts many years ago upon the Grand Work’s birth within them. Yet it was somehow familiar to Percy.
There came one last gruesome gasp. Dark fluid was rustling beneath Van Courtland’s nearly transparent flesh, in patterns as if he were full of liquid marble. Whether this was blood or the spirit’s vile, vaguely tangible essence, it could not be determined, but whatever purity and magic the assembled company had brought to the air, it was being fouled by noxious gases from the usurped body, slipping out every orifice and leaking from beneath his fingernails.
Percy felt her stomach heave. Jane was rotating the star of her palm in slow curves over Van Courtland’s body, leaving traces of light hovering there, a misty shroud of a Celtic knot. Her healing white light and Alexi’s blue light of purification now bound together over Van Courtland. A punctuation rose to each of their lips, Percy included, and their incredible benediction lulled into a final “Shhh.”
In a puff of sour-smelling smoke and with a final damning curse, the spirit at last departed the ravaged body of its victim. The group saw their foe for what it was, so rotted and disintegrated that it was but shreds of skin and muscle. This decomposed form lifted up to hover before them,
Similar Books
