Retribution (Anna Strong Chronicles #5)

Retribution (Anna Strong Chronicles #5) Page 48

SOPHIE STEPS BACK, HER GAZE SWEEPING THE room, the cot, the objects placed in front of her on the floor. She turns. "You three had better wait outside."the floor. She turns. "You three had better wait outside: '

Williams and I answer as one. "No way."

Only Sandra moves to the door. "I'll be in the bar. I've reopened it and we have customers."

She hurries out, not looking back, obviously relieved to be allowed to go. She must have regretted agreeing to come here every day since Culebra came back from his "vacation."

Sophie frowns at Williams and me. "If you stay," she cautions, "you must not interfere. No matter what happens. Do not approach me or Culebra. I won't be responsible for what happens if you do. Understood?"

Williams and I both nod that we do. Williams' thoughts are concealed beneath a black layer of hatred toward both Burke and her sister.

I suspect we'll be watching for different things. If I see further harm coming to Culebra, I 'll interfere any way I can. He'll be watching for any indication that Sophie is betraying us to her sister. Either way, agreeing is meaningless.

Sophie must suspect our acceptance of her terms is a hollow gesture; still, she turns away from us and steps toward the cot.

She makes no other move that I can detect, and yet all the candles spontaneously light, the flames leaping toward the ceiling like Roman candles before retreating to burn in a steady glow.

The sight makes the hair stir on the back of my neck.

She lays a hand on Culebra's chest and begins to chant. She picks up the vial and dribbles a little of the holy water into Culebra's mouth.

It bubbles up like peroxide on an open wound. A thin wisp of smoke rises. Culebra gasps and my hands curl into fists. I take a step toward him.

Sophie turns to me, her eyes clouded again. "Don't."

One word, spoken in a voice that resonates to the depths of hell. It freezes me to the spot.

Like her sister before her, Sophie has the power to immobilize.

Why didn't I see that coming? Why didn't she use it on Williams when he attacked her?

She watches me a moment, turns away when she's sure I can't break free. She returns to Culebra.

The chanting continues. I strain to break the bonds holding me, but it's no use. Williams. Can you move?

His voice comes back, rough, angry. No.

Shit.

Then the rumble begins. Like distant thunder. For a moment I 'm conscious only of the sound until, suddenly, darkness descends as if from a fast-moving storm. The room is plunged into night. The flickering candles cast grotesque shadows on the walls. Sophie 's shape distorts, her face turns ghostly, indistinct against the gloom. Only her voice is the same, strong, unwavering.

My skin crawls.

The room begins to shake. Gusts of cold air swirl around us, stinging my face like the gale of an arctic storm. The candles sway in the violent blasts of air. My guts heave. I feel as if I'm on the deck of a bucking ship, helpless in the face of a raging storm.

Sophie's voice carries over all. Only the tempo and volume increase. I don't understand the words. All that I see are her eyes-bright, fever-lit, consumed by an inner fire. It's frightening and compelling and I can't look away.

Sophie pauses in her incantations, pours another drop of holy water on Culebra 's tongue. This time, he groans, his back arches as if pulling against invisible bonds.

He's in pain. I struggle to break free of Sophie's hold. I can't. Did I make a mistake bringing her?

What choice did I have?

Sophie continues the chant. The wind increases, whipping her hair around her face. A small cut appears on her cheek, followed by another and another until her face is streaming with blood. It drips onto her clothes, onto Culebra, a crimson stain that spreads until they're both covered with it.

Still, she persists. Her voice carries with it power and energy. Yet the opposition she's fighting is powerful, too. I'm watching a clash of titans. Two mighty forces in a battle of wills.

The howling wind shrieks, filling my head until I think my eardrums will burst. Head and heart pound with the pressure. I want to press my palms against my ears but my arms refuse to move.

The charm around my neck gives the first warning. A fiery blast of white-hot heat. I can't protect myself from it. All I can do is cry out.

Suddenly, there is another sound. A voice. Shrill, furious.

"You are my sister," Belinda Burke's scream rattles the walls and shakes the floor beneath our feet. "If you break this spell, you break the bond."

Her image floats in the air above Culebra's cot. Not the image of Simone Tremaine or the younger Burke Frey and I battled months ago.

This is the true image. An old woman, face contorted in anger, body stooped and bent. Her eyes burn red and focus with mad intensity on her sister.

"Stop. Stop now. You can't win."

But Sophie doesn't stop. The chanting continues. Tears stream down her face, mixing with the blood. She picks up the vial and flings it into the apparition.

Hell breaks loose.