Vision in Faith (Legends of the North Book 3) (19 page)

"The best way is to work hard for it, earn it. Makes it that much sweeter. Don't sell your soul. It's not something to bargain with. Look how he suffers now," he said, pointing to the man who was still doubled over. "Poor William. He got what he wished for—wealth." The man waved his hand and Altenbury Hall replaced the stone room. "A family of great repute."

Vicky gasped as she recognised James's gran amongst the gathering of Altenburys standing outside the hall, dressed in their finest clothes.

"His soul remained his own, but it is the children who pay for the sins of the father. He won't rest until he has an Altenbury soul for payment. He's coming to collect his dues."

Vicky glared at him and the strange man lifted his hands, palms up.

"Don't shoot the messenger," he said with a laugh.

Vicky stumbled back in surprise, but the man had disappeared. When she turned her head to look back at William, he had vanished too. She closed her eyes and her hand came up to her throat.
 

When she opened them, tied to the tree was a man with the same face of the devil.

He pulled at the ropes around his hands and laughed when he saw her. His flat, empty eyes stared straight at her before he collapsed back against the tree. "Sins of the fathers thee shall reap."

Vicky took a step back from the venom in his words. When she did, he stepped closer to her, the ropes that had bound him on the floor in a heap. He pushed his face close to hers and whispered, "Sins of the fathers thee shall reap."

She raised her hands to try to ward him off, but he wrapped his gnarled fingers around her wrists.

"Sins of the fathers thee shall reap. A soul will be mine to keep." He threw back his head and cackled at his own words.

She flinched as spittle landed on her face, and she tried to wrench her hands free. "No, no, no," she cried out.

Hands gripped around her upper arms and she cried out again.

"Vicky. Wake up."

At the sound of her name, her eyes flew open and the relief at seeing James in front of her left her breathless. His gaze met hers and then he pulled her into his arms.
 

"Shh, you're okay. I've got you." His hands stroked up and down her back, and she sagged against his chest.
 

I'm safe, in James's arms. In James's bedroom.
She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly to reassure herself that he was there, that he was real. Where their chests touched, her pyjama top stuck to her and she felt the dampness on her skin. Pulling back, she glanced down as a red stain bloomed across the middle of her chest.
 

At her gasp, James followed her gaze. "What the fuck?" His hands lifted towards the stain—blood, she realised, as she smelled the coppery tang of it—but then he hesitated. Instead, he dropped them to the hem of her top and gently peeled it up.

A shallow cut between her breasts was oozing blood. Feeling a little faint at the sight, she lifted her gaze back to James's and said, "He had the sword."

"What, sweetheart?" he said, his gaze still on the cut.

"He had Harry's sword."

***

James's head snapped up at her words, bringing him out of his daze at the sight of Vicky in his bed, blood dripping from her chest.
I thought I'd lost her.

The panic that thought made him feel was just a taste of how he might feel seeing her fight in, God, only three days' time.

"Who had Harry's sword?" he asked as he pulled her to her feet, needing to clean the cut, to stop the bleeding.

"The devil. Only it wasn't the devil."

James led her to his bathroom and glanced at her out of the side of his eye. That didn't really make sense, and he wasn't sure how worried he should be by it at that moment. Gently pushing her down to sit on the toilet lid, he started to clean the gash on her chest.

Ten minutes later, they sat across from each other in the kitchen, a coffee each in their hands with a healthy slug of whiskey in it. Vicky looked a lot less shaken. She had more colour on her face and a large bandage over what, thankfully, was only a shallow cut.

"So, the devil had Harry's sword," he prompted.

Vicky lifted her head and gazed at the ceiling. "Remember when I said the devil had the face of a man?" James nodded but didn't say a word. "Well, it was that man who had Harry's sword. He was tied to a tree. It was an oak tree—I remember the leaves. Then he started shouting the same thing at me over and over when he broke free and pushed himself right up in my face."

"What did he shout at you?"

Vicky dropped her gaze to his, her eyes scrunched up in confusion.

"It doesn't matter if you can't remember."

"No, I remember. It just doesn't make sense. He said, 'Sins of the father thee shall reap,' and, 'a soul for him to keep.' Then he dropped his hold on my wrists, and suddenly the sword was in his hand, and he plunged it into my chest. That's when you woke me up."

James's mind went blank as he stared at her. She reached a hand across the breakfast bar to hold his. "James? What is it?"

"Those words."

She gripped his hand tighter and asked, "Do they mean something to you?"

"Jess's vision. In Jess's vision, the prisoner was tied to a post, and he screamed those words at her."

"Do you think the prisoner and the devil are the same person? Because the devil, when he had the man's face, it was remarkably similar to the carved head from the tree."

James nodded, too stunned to form words or to fathom what that meant.

"That's not all of it either."

"There's more?" he asked.

"Before that, I was at Altenbury Hall…"

"And?"
 

She swallowed slowly, and he wondered how bad it could be.

"Then, it was gone, and a man who looked a lot like Matt was outside a small stone building. Then another man, calling himself the messenger, said you shouldn't sell your soul. And then there were all these people—your family, I assume because I recognised your gran."

Jesus.
James rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wondering what the hell his family was responsible for. "I'll be back," he said as he stood, walking out of the room with his head down.

He'd always been proud to call himself an Altenbury. Proud of their heritage and what they had done for the village. He was beginning to doubt those feelings.

Rooting around the books strewn across the desk in their makeshift office, he pulled free the one he was looking for. Flipping through the pages, he found the one he wanted, and made his way back to Vicky.

He stopped by her side and put the photo album on the breakfast bar in front of her. She took her time looking at the photos and the people in them, and then he heard her gasp. Her fingers shook as she pointed at the yellowing paper that was curled at the edges where it wasn't taped down.

Pointed to a sketch of William Altenbury, the man who started the building of Altenbury Hall.

"He said that this man had kept his soul, but it was his children—no,
the
children—who would pay the price. He was after a soul. An Altenbury soul."

James dropped down into the seat next to Vicky, resting his elbows on the top and his head in his hands.

What a fucking mess.

Chapter 21

Later that day, the others joined James and Vicky at his house. She let him tell them about their revelations the previous night; after all, it was his family that had started this chain of events, or so it would seem.

"So, if we're to believe this vision then William… what? Sold his soul to the devil so he could be rich? So his family would be important? So bloody important their souls are hunted for generations to come?" Jess stopped pacing and slouched as though the words had sapped all her energy.

"I thought they shouldn't be taken literally?" Vicky asked.

Matt dropped an arm around Jess's shoulders and pulled her against his side. "I don't think they are. Well, not completely, anyway. But some things, like finding the shields and the sword, they're like pointers, guiding us in the right direction. But just like regular dreams, they're open to interpretation."

Vicky's lips twisted at his answer. She wasn't quite as convinced.
 

"At least we know why our family has been targeted," James said. He wrapped his arms around Vicky, his gaze fixed on Jess and Matt. "I think it's about time we ended this, put right what our ancestors started once and for all."

***

They waited until twilight had fallen before the six of them made their way down Altenbury Lane. As they walked past the tree that had held the carved head, Vicky stopped.

"What is it?" James asked, turning towards her.

"It looks like it's dying," she said, raising her hand to trace a black ring that ran around the trunk. One of six rings she counted.

"It has hardly any leaves left but it's not autumn yet, and it has these odd rings too. In my vision, the devil was bound to this tree. What if this tree is tied to all of this?"

Matt moved beside her and said, "She's right. After we found the first ring on the trunk, I spoke to the gardener, and he had no idea what they were or why they had appeared. And Vicky isn't the only one to have visions that included this tree." He looked at Emma and she nodded.

"It was in my first vision. Why didn't we think of that before?"

"Maybe you would have if you'd found the sword then as well," Vicky answered, giving Emma's arm a squeeze. "Matt, can I have some of that kindling, please?"

"Why? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to burn it down."

"You c-can't do th-that," he stuttered.

"Why not?" she asked, moving towards the bag of supplies he'd dropped on the floor.

"Because… because…"

"Exactly," Vicky said as she unzipped the bag and pulled out some small sticks of wood and the firelighters. "If I'm wrong, I've burnt down a tree," she said with a shrug, and waved the kindling at Matt. "But if I'm right, and the devil is tied to this tree, then maybe, just maybe, I might save one of our lives." She stared at Matt, waiting for him to challenge her, but he just flicked his gaze to the tree and slowly nodded.

James took the kindling from her and tied it into a bundle, tucking the firelighters in between. He looped the end of the twine around his wrist and shimmied up the tree.

Vicky threw the lighter to him and, after positioning the bundle of wood in the hole where the sword had been, he lit it. As he jumped back down, the flames began to lick at the top of the branches and a puff of grey smoke escaped, bringing with it the smell of rotten eggs.

The flames crawled up the branches and caught on the leaves as a wailing noise began. It sounded like a wounded animal calling for its pack—to Vicky, anyway.

"Come on," Matt said. "We haven't got long. It's coming."

Hurrying towards the field, Vicky laid the shield on the ground as she lit the candles, while Matt drew out the pentagram with the salt. Emma filled the bowl with the anointed oil and sprinkled holy water around the pentagram.

Jess put the earth and the rest of the water each on a point of the pentagram and candles on the others as James and Rob kept watch. As prepared as they could ever be, they waited.

Vicky felt the ground shake beneath her feet, and an icy chill snake its way around her. The fading light suddenly disappeared, plunging them into darkness. The hiss of a cat came from behind her and she spun around.

"Stay where you are!" Matt shouted. "Stay inside the pentagram."

At his words, the darkness receded to be replaced by the biggest cat she'd ever seen. It towered over her as it clawed at the earth, leaving gouge marks in its path.

"It's not real, remember," she heard Emma whisper to Matt. Looking at them out the side of her eye, she saw her take his hand.
 

She turned her attention back to the cat in time to see it morph into a wolf.
What the hell are we facing?

"We beat it last time, Rob. We can do it again."

At Jess's words, Vicky glanced over her shoulder in time to see Jess reach for Rob. "I love you," he whispered back, and Vicky bit her lip.

Faith.

As if in response to Rob's words, the wolf howled and Vicky watched as it turned into the man from her vision. He stumbled forward, almost within their reach, and shouted, "Sins of the father thee shall reap. A deal is a deal. He tricked me. I gave him wealth. I made his family great. I even made his stupid bridge from the reeds of the River Alten. I'm owed a soul."

The last word trailed off into a wail. Behind him, she saw the tree erupt into flames, consumed by them, and the man screamed and contorted.

Finally, she saw the devil that had attacked her and James at his cottage, but its eyes weren't quite as red. Its wings spread open, but the eyes remained closed, and it screeched as if in pain, staggering forward.

As it did, Emma shoved at it with her shield as Matt thrust his sword into its side. When he withdrew it, the blade was covered with a green liquid, and drops of it oozed from the monster. As they hit the ground, they gave off a hiss and Vicky rubbed a finger across where the burn mark had been on her neck.

The creature turned and James lunged out of the pentagram, driving Harry's sword forward and slicing through one of its wings. It let out a howl in response and its smaller, hand-like wings grabbed the sword from James, pulling him towards it.

The sword fell to the ground, and Vicky lunged to grab it, but from the corner of her eye she saw the monster's tail snake up, its pointed end aimed at James. She flung her shield to the ground and grabbed the sword with both hands. Swinging around, she sliced the sword through its tail, but she knew she was too late as James's screams filled her ears and tore at her heart.

 
Dear God, no. He can't die.
She desperately wanted to go to where he lay on the ground, but Rob dragged him back inside the pentagram, and she yelled as loud as she could.

She charged forward and drove the sword—Harry's sword—deep into its chest until she saw the tip of it poke out of its shoulder and pierce its neck. Her stomach heaved at the sight.