Crushed (City of Eldrich Book 2) (18 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A
nnie had also
found an apple and some cheese, which she’d cut up and placed on a paper plate. She’d even fanned out the apple slices to make them look nice. Meaghan smiled when she saw it. Annie and Russ really were perfect for each other.

The small room had no windows, so they could actually turn on the lights instead of stumbling around in the dim light from the street.

“We don’t have time for this,” Owen growled.

Meaghan, calm again, handed him the plate of cookies. Her eyes and nose were still leaking a bit, but the fear was gone. At least for now. “Shut up. We mortals need to recharge for a few minutes here and there, and you need to tell me more about this prophecy.”

“I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“Don’t be difficult. Have a cookie.”

Owen sipped the mug of tea Annie had handed him and munched on a mint Milano. “It’s a long story, so understand this is going to be an abridged version, and if I don’t tell you everything, it’s not because I’m lying, but because we have other stuff to do so the world doesn’t end.”

“I understand,” Meaghan said, nibbling on a slice of cheddar. “Abridged is fine.”

“I guess the easiest place to start is telling you where the prophecy came from. Have you ever wondered about the irony of this town being called Eldrich?”

“What irony?” Meaghan asked. “It’s named after the guy who founded it.”

“Yeah, but the other meaning, the i-t-c-h spelling.”

Meaghan shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Owen frowned at her. “What sort of stuff do you like to read?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You read any horror, fantasy, that kind of stuff? Any Lovecraft?”

Meaghan wrinkled her nose. “Bleh. I had a friend in college into all that crap. He convinced me to read a Lovecraft story, but it was so overwrought and racist I couldn’t finish it.”

“So, let me guess,” Owen said. “You prefer realism.”

“I prefer nonfiction. How is this an abridged version?”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Lovecraft used the word eldritch—i-t-c-h—a lot in his stories.”

“It means eerie, spooky, sinister, that kind of thing,” Natalie said.

“Okay.” Meaghan nodded. “I get the irony now. But what does that have to do with this prophecy?”

“I’m getting to that. Using the word eldritch to mean spooky is from the early sixteenth century. Scottish. Some linguists think the derivation comes from ‘elf’ but it doesn’t. It comes from a name.”

Meaghan’s eyes widened. “Eldrich. Our boy Welland had a spooky ancestor?”

“He had many. But it was Alastair Eldrich, his great, great—” Owen stopped to count on his fingers. “I don’t know, a lot of greats, grandfather who wrote down the prophecy.”

“Made it up, you mean,” Meaghan said.

“No, had brain-pounding, insanity-producing visions that he put down on paper before he set himself on fire in the village square with a jug of whiskey and a lit taper, screaming ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’”

Meaghan set her mug down with a grimace. “Ouch. How do you know about this?”

“I was there,” Owen said. “I’m the one who shoved him in a horse trough to put out the flames. Too late, of course. Nobody had the medical knowledge back then to deal with burns like that. And no opiate painkillers. I tried to help him when nobody else would go near him, but after a few hours of listening to his moans, I put a pillow over his face.”

Natalie gasped. “You killed him?”

Owen shook his head. “He was as good as dead. All I did was put him out of his misery.”

Meaghan, her horror overruled by hunger, reached for a chocolate-covered cookie. “Is that the thing you did that got you in trouble?”

“No.” Owen shook his head. “That was something else. But it was why I was living in Scotland in the late fifteenth century posing as a human dwarf instead of living as a leprechaun.”

“You got banished,” Meaghan said.

Owen seesawed his hand in the air. “Sort of.”

“For stealing something, right?”

Owen nodded. “Yeah, but I gave it back. So no harm done.”

Meaghan gave him the sheepdog stare.

“Fine, not
much
harm done. I’ll tell you that story another time. When we aren’t fighting a horde of asshole wizards. I thought you wanted to hear about the prophecy.”

“I do. Was Alastair crazy before all this happened?” Annie asked.

“No . . . well, not
that
crazy. But the Eldrich family all had something odd about them. They knew things, felt things. Alastair, especially.”

“They were psychic?” Meaghan reached for another cookie.

“Psychic plus,” Owen said. “The use of their name to describe something spooky started before Alastair, but he’s the one who made it stick. There was occasional grumbling about witchcraft, but, fortunately, they didn’t live in the Highlands. They were a lowlands family with English ties and wealth and land so nobody got burnt. Until Alastair, that is.”

“They never went after those people,” Natalie said. “Only the poor and friendless. Little old ladies who knew about herbs, that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah.” Owen nodded. “And who didn’t have any power. Real witches only got burnt if other witches—”

“Or wizards,” Natalie added, shoving away her mug and half-eaten cookie.

“Or wizards,” Owen repeated, “were involved.”

“Like right now,” Natalie said. “Please don’t let them do that to me. If it comes to it, shoot me or something. I . . .” She shuddered. “Not fire.”

“Nobody’s shooting anybody,” Meaghan said. “And nobody’s burning anybody either. Not in my town. So, what’s this prophecy gotta do with Natalie? Or with me? Or Jamie? Finn mentioned the prophecy in relation to both me and Jamie.”

“Well, the thing is a big rambling mess, as you can imagine. No tidy Nostradamus-like quatrains for Alastair.”

“Don’t tell me Nostradamus was for real.” Meaghan snorted. “You can make that vague crap mean anything you want it to.”

Owen laughed and shook his head. “No. Nostradamus was a total bullshit artist. If he were still alive, he’d be laughing all the way to the bank. Honestly, humans will believe anything.”

Meaghan raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, not all humans,” Owen said. “I know, you’re a lawyer, you don’t trust anybody, blah, blah, blah.”

“Tell me what Alastair’s prophecy says,” Meaghan said.

“The key part for you two—” He pointed at Meaghan and Natalie, “involves an impervious man and a witch who have two daughters.”

“Which is why they told me it didn’t refer to me,” Natalie said. “Because they only had one daughter.”

“But what about the burning?” Meaghan asked. “Why do they want to burn Natalie?”

Natalie moaned and put her head on the table. Annie rubbed her back.

Owen sighed. “Because the prophecy talks in a few places about the need to purify witches with fire. How the burning will open the door to humanity’s new masters.”

“But they already have Marnie,” Meaghan said. “What about her? Finn told me Marnie was the sacrifice.”

Owen grimaced. “Oh, trust me. They have plans for her, too. But in one of the references it talks about the daughter witch. And how they need to burn her to . . . stop you.”

Meaghan noticed the hesitation. He’d almost said something other than stop.
Kill me, maybe?

“And,” Natalie said, her voice shaking, “here I am.”

“But the prophecy says two daughters,” Annie said. “Matthew and Vivian only had you. Meaghan has a different mother.”

Owen shook his head. “You’re being too literal. They did have two daughters. Just not together.”

“Which is why Matthew and Mom tried so hard to hide me from everyone.” Tears glistened in Natalie’s eyes.

Meaghan reached over and took her hand. “And why Dad was so reluctant to bring me into all this.”

“He tried to find somebody else to do the job in your place, but finding impervious people is tricky to say the least.” Owen rubbed his face. “I need a shave.”

“Why is it tricky?” Meaghan asked.

“You can’t use magic,” Natalie answered, her voice steadier. “At least not efficiently. You can hex groups of people and look for the one still standing, but . . .” She shook her head. “It’s the needle-in-a-haystack thing, only in this case, the needle is invisible.”

Owen said, “There’s also some stuff in the prophecy about the kings of the lost tribe.”

“John and Jamie,” Annie said.

He nodded. “And wizards using beacons to heaven to free something evil.”

“City hall is the beacon to heaven,” Annie said. “Right?”

“Well, not necessarily,” Owen said. “Here’s the thing—Alastair might not have been a con artist, but he was even less clear than Nostradamus. He was a raving lunatic. The guy set himself on fire, for God’s sake. The prophecy is inherently untrustworthy. Not through any intent by Alastair to deceive, but because he was nuts. So, who knows?”

Meaghan snorted. “Which means this prophecy is a load of crap like all the others.”

Owen shrugged. “They aren’t all crap.”

“Yes, they are. I don’t believe in prophecy.”

“Of course you don’t. One of the daughters is described as having a mind like granite, a tongue like a knife, and the gift of plain sight. According to Alastair”—Owen shifted into a thick Scottish brogue—“‘she will refuse to heed these words.’”

Natalie snorted back a giggle. “That does kind of sound like you.”

Meaghan smiled, relieved to hear Natalie laugh. “What does it say about you? Magic skills, hair like flame?”

“Um.” Natalie stared at the table. “I don’t think Alastair knew about Clairol.”

Annie grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t start with me,” Natalie said. “I’m having a really bad day. Wizards want to burn me.”

Annie giggled. “Because you turned one of them into a newt?”

Natalie giggled back, and said, in a fake British accent, “I’m
not
a witch. This isn’t my nose, it’s a false one!”

The women laughed.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall,” Annie said. “First door on the left.”

When their laughter subsided, they sat silent for a long moment.

“Why am I joking about this?” Natalie’s voice shook. “I’m so scared.”

“That’s why,” Meaghan said. “I do the same thing. So does Russ.”

“Promise you won’t let them burn me.”

“I promise. And as long as Jamie’s still on his feet, I don’t see how they think they can do it. If he doesn’t squish them with a chunk of city hall, he’ll blow a hydrant.”

“Or one of the sprinkler pipes in the lawn,” Annie said. “You’ll be too soggy to burn.”

“You think?” Natalie asked, her face worried.

Meaghan nodded. “Of course he will.”

Natalie sighed. “Don’t get mad,” she said to Meaghan. “Do you think Jhoro is okay?”

“Is the spell still working?”

“Yes,” Natalie and Annie said in unison.

“Annie?” Meaghan didn’t need them at each other’s throats again. “Keeping it together?”

“I’m fine. But you have to admit that thing with the shirt—”

“Was really hot,” Natalie finished, “and he really looked good in those undies.”

Annie sighed. “You could see everything. And the hair. He has really great hair.”

“Yeah,” Natalie said. “And the whole hero thing makes me all . . . melty.”

Meaghan smiled. “Brian may not have the hair, but he’s got the hero thing down cold.”

Natalie looked thoughtful. “You know, I do prefer to be the pretty one in the relationship. Jhoro’s . . . I’m not sure I’m confident enough to be with a man that beautiful.”

“I know,” Annie said. “Brian’s not a looker, but . . .”

“He’s a surprisingly good kisser,” Natalie said. “He’s had some practice since high school.”

“You’ve both had some practice since high school.” Owen poked his head into the break room. “If you’re done doing each other’s nails and talking about boys, can we please go save the world now?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

A
nnie spun open
the combination lock on the trapdoor leading into the tunnel.

“I threw Brian’s gun down there,” Meaghan said. “We need to find it.”

Owen frowned. “You can’t use a gun against the wizards.”

“I know that. But I promised Brian I’d get it back for him. I’ll leave it down there, but I don’t want anybody to step on it.”

Nobody moved.

“Fine,” Owen said. “I’ll go. Point the flashlight at the ladder so I can see where I’m going.”

Meaghan held the flashlight. She pointed it as directed.

“Meg,” Owen said. “Why’s your hand shaking?”

“She doesn’t like small places,” Annie said.

“You’re claustrophobic?” Owen asked.

Meaghan nodded. “A bit.”

“How big a bit?”

“Oh, pretty big,” Meaghan said. She took a deep, shaky breath. “But, if I have to do it, I’ll do it.”

“She was a trouper coming through the other way,” Annie said.

“But now she’s had to time to think about it.” Owen looked at Meaghan. “I can help you with that.”

“How?”

“You know magic doesn’t work on her,” Natalie said.

“This isn’t magic.” He asked Meaghan, “You ever been hypnotized?”

“No,” Meaghan said, suspiciously. “What are you proposing?”

“Simple little relaxation exercise. Should take about ten minutes. Once you’re under, I’ll give your subconscious a pep talk and a way for you to remind yourself to relax when we’re in the tunnel.”

Meaghan hesitated.

“Annie and Natalie are here to make sure I don’t do anything weird, okay?”

“You’re a leprechaun,” Meaghan finally said. “I still don’t totally trust you.”

Owen nodded. “Understood, but you trust Red and you know she’ll blast me into chunks if I try something hinky.”

“In a heartbeat,” Natalie said. She looked at Owen. “Nothing personal.”

Meaghan frowned, still not convinced. “How do you know hypnosis?”

“Something I picked up along the way,” Owen said.

Now Natalie was frowning.

“For strictly non-nefarious purposes,” Owen said in defensive tone. “Geez. I started grinding my teeth in my sleep from stress, all right? I went to a hypnotherapist when I started getting migraines and it worked so well, I took some classes.”

Meaghan nodded. “Okay. That sounds reasonable. I doubt it will work, though.”

She was wrong. A few moments listening to Owen’s measured voice telling her to breathe deeply and relax and Meaghan was out. When she opened her eyes a few minutes later, she felt great, like she’d woken up from a restful nap.

“If I start clucking like a chicken, I’ll kick your ass,” she said to Owen, but she was smiling. “I feel great. What did you do?”

“Nothing major.”

“He reminded you how tough you are,” Natalie said. “Can I tell her the rest?”

“Sure.”

“And that when you feel the walls closing in, you’ll remember a sunny open place where you feel safe.”

“The desert,” Meaghan said. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Once down the ladder, they found Brian’s Glock. Natalie tucked it carefully into a corner and put a protection charm on it so only Brian could pick it up.

They headed down the tunnel. Meaghan was amazed at the difference. By now, she should have broken into a cold sweat. But this was a stroll in the park. Whenever she felt the fingers of panic try to work into her, an image of the desert meeting the bright blue Arizona sky filled her mind.

Whatever else Owen had done, he’d turned her from skeptic to true believer in hypnosis. “So my claustrophobia is cured?”

“Well, no, you’d need more sessions for that and even then you’d need the occasional tune-up.”

“I may have to look into it. Normally I need a whole lot of Valium to do something like this. Can you use hypnosis for other stuff?”

“Sure. Whatever you want to get a handle on. You have to want to make the change, though.”

“Hmm.” There were certainly things she’d like to change about herself. And others. “Would it work on . . . say . . . alcoholism?”

“You mean would it work on John?”

“Well, yeah.” If she could be sure John wouldn’t drink again maybe she wouldn’t be so scared to let things move forward with him.

Owen sighed. “Probably not. I mean it might be able to help with cravings, but . . . it’s kind of like a love spell.”

“But it’s not magic.”

“No, but remember what I said about love spells creating an artificial emotional connection? Sometimes it can lead to a genuine relationship, but only if that chemistry is already there. Or could be there. You can’t use magic to make someone fall in love with you unless they want to. Otherwise the infatuation ends when the spell does.”

Meaghan thought about this for a moment. “Hypnosis won’t work unless you really want it. And alcoholics, on some level, really don’t want to stop drinking. That’s their struggle.”

“Exactly.”

Meaghan sighed. “It was a nice thought.”

“But it seems to me,” said Owen, “that the problem isn’t with John.”

“It’s with you,” Annie said. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s not like I can give you any space down here. You want to be with John. He wants to be with you. You’re both scared, but you’re more scared.”

Meaghan felt the need to retort, but couldn’t find any words. Because Annie was right. She was absolutely right. “God, you really are perfect for my brother. First, you pull a Martha Stewart with the stolen break room snacks and now you’re doing the know-me-better-than-I-know-myself routine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Well, a little, but I’m so chilled out from whatever Owen did to me, it’s not worth fussing about.”

“If we survive this,” Natalie said, “we’re bringing Owen on as staff hypnotist. You should be ripping Annie’s head off right now.”

“Really? I’m not like that, am I?”

“Where John’s concerned,” Natalie said, “um,
sex
with John to be perfectly accurate, yeah, you are. We’ve all been tiptoeing around you since you got back from Fahraya.”

“I thought I’d gotten mellower.”

“About some stuff,” Annie said. “Not about that.”

“Is this why Sid keeps telling me I need to get laid?”

“Yes,” Annie and Natalie both said.

Owen laughed. “Oh hell, that’s the Troon response to everything.”

“Really?” Meaghan asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Owen said. “They’re notoriously promiscuous. They think the whole male-female, gay-straight thing is kind of silly. And limiting. They think humans would be a lot happier if you didn’t try to categorize everything by genital plumbing and fashion sense, and focused on the person instead.”

“Yes,” Meaghan said. “That does sound like Sid.”

“Did he really sleep with Jhoro?” Natalie asked.

Owen laughed again. “Troon are also notorious liars when it comes to sex. I’m sure Sid
tried
to sleep with him.”

Now Meaghan laughed. “That sounds even more like him.”

“So,” Annie asked. “He’s only been sleeping with Marnie? I’m still confused by that. He spends his whole life with a man and his rebound relationship is with a woman? That doesn’t sound right to me. His grief for Finn is enormous . . . soul-shattering—and the first thing he does is switch teams?
That
sounds like a love spell to me.”

Owen nodded. “Yeah, you know it does. This can’t be the first spell Marnie cast on him.”

“Then why did this one go wrong?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know,” Owen said. “Maybe this was the first one Marnie cast out in the woods near Finn’s grave and the residual gateway magic amped it up somehow.”

“Or, maybe,” Meaghan said, “somebody else cast their own spell first.”

“I told you that in confidence,” Natalie said in a small voice.

Owen stopped short.

Annie bumped into him, too amazed by Natalie’s admission to wonder why he stopped. “You hexed him first?”

“Owen,” Meaghan said from the back of the line. “What’s going on?”

“Not us,” Owen said. “Get up here and look at this.”

Meaghan squeezed past Natalie and Annie. “What am I looking at?”

“Up ahead,” Owen said, handing her the flashlight.

She peered over Owen’s head and pointed the light in front of her. A tangle of debris snarled the corridor about twenty feet ahead. “Shit. We need to get closer and see if we can get through that.”

“Through what?” Annie asked.

“Some kind of cave-in, it looks like,” Owen replied.

“Let me see.” Annie squeezed close behind Meaghan. “Crouch down a little so I can see over you.”

Sandwiched between Owen and Annie in the dark, cramped tunnel, Meaghan closed her eyes and imagined walking through the desert. The sun shone down on her. A slight breeze blew.
This hypnosis shit is amazing
, she thought.

“We’re under city hall,” Annie said. “That’s the entrance to the stairway. We aren’t getting in that way.”

Meaghan took a deep breath, her calm fading a bit. “Annie, switch places with me, okay?”

They squeezed around each other and Meaghan found herself next to Natalie, who took a close look at Meaghan’s face in the dim light and took a big step backwards. “Let me give you some space. You okay? Hypnosis still working?”

Meaghan nodded, her heart pounding. “Mostly. That just got a little close in there.”

“
You
aren’t getting in that way,” Owen said. “But I might. Shine the light up there. The hole. On the left.” He shook his head. “I can’t tell from here. Let’s go take a look.”

Annie followed him down the corridor, leaving Meaghan and Natalie alone.

“I’m sorry I outed you about Jhoro,” Meaghan said.

Natalie sighed. “I’ll live.”

“Do you think Marnie knew you’d hexed him?”

“I think she suspected it. Which is why she did her spell.”

“To make him forget you? And Finn?”

“Yeah. And to keep liking girls. No wonder it went wrong. I’m such an idiot.”

“Well,” Meaghan said. “You aren’t the only one. I’m betting a few other witches did exactly the same thing.”

“Me too. Do you think maybe he . . . I don’t know . . . contributed to it?”

Meaghan laughed. “By being too hot to resist?”

“No, I mean something about him hexed us all first. I thought Fahrayans didn’t do magic, but he’s got some kind of power.”

Meaghan nodded. “Yeah, Ruth said something similar and John told us Jhoro had been training himself to be a shaman before he got here. Which is why he knew how to mix up the stuff he gave me that took me on my little psychic trip.”

“Trippy drugs and shamanism do kind of go together. You think he’s been taking the stuff, too? That’s why he’s manifesting all the weird stuff Annie’s seeing?”

“It didn’t have any lasting effects on me, but I only took it that one time.”

“And you’re impervious.”

“Hmm. Good point.” Meaghan nodded. “They’re coming back.”

Owen and Annie made their way through the tunnel.

“It’s blocked,” Annie said.

“On purpose?” Meaghan asked.

Annie shook her head. “Nope. Looks like a cave-in of some sort. Maybe from all the damage Jamie’s doing to the building.”

Meaghan looked at Natalie. “Can you clear it?”

She shook her head. “The tunnel is warded against magical sabotage. Built right into the bricks. I’d bring the whole building down on top of us. We can’t get in that way.”

“But I can,” Owen said. “I’m small enough to crawl through the gap in the pile. The stairs look undamaged. I can get to him while you find another way in.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Meaghan said. “He could crush you like a bug right now.”

“And so could the wizards. And whatever the hell they’re summoning. If it’s the same things Alastair saw in his visions, crushed might be the best-case scenario.”

Meaghan shook her head. “Owen, this isn’t your fight.”

“Bullshit, it’s not. I was there, remember? I saw what those things did to Alastair.” He looked up at Meaghan. “What they’re trying to do to Jamie. Those symbols they carved on him? I’ve seen them before. Alastair wrote them in his own blood on the front of the village church right before he set himself on fire.” He shook his head, his face grim. “Not again. Not if I can do anything to stop it.”