“I barely know him.” My teeth chattered. I was cold all over.
“Do not lie to us, girl.” The man, if that’s what he was with his short gray hair and ragged linen pants, floated around the table. His bare chest was a mockery of Darren’s, bony and sunken. His feet didn’t touch the ground. “When we felt him above, he reeked of love and affection.”
I froze as the creature became transparent, fading to black. He slithered through the air and wound his form around me so that I retched from the unnatural stink. His filthy energy, tamed by the talisman in my pocket, was a concentration of Garneria.
“This mortal was perfect. We needed him. We’re weak. So we called for him. So kind of him to answer us.”
A chorus of assent rose from the assembled spirits. Behind me, I heard the click of a gun.
I whirled. “George, no!”
The guard fired several wild shots at the crowd. The bullets tore through the beings, making them shimmer in and out of existence. I watched in horror as the spirit who had spoken to me became whole once more before shoving his hand through George’s chest.
It was akin to the sound of a watermelon being punched, punctuated by the crack of George’s ribs as they yielded beneath the monster’s fingers.
I watched in slow motion as he hit the ground face-first, twitched once, and was still.
The creature stood in front of me, a messy, red organ throbbing in his fingers.
George’s heart.
I couldn’t stop the wave of nausea. Falling on my knees beside the security guard’s body, I vomited.
“It is pleasant,” the spirit hissed, becoming translucent again. He rotated until he was upside down, his face in front of mine. “You fear for your friend? He is in a better place, now. The same place where you shall be shortly, along with your lover.”
“What place is that?” I choked out. Wiping my mouth, I met the creature’s eyes.
“With our gods, of course.” He righted himself, wandering back to Darren. George’s heart slipped from his fingers and landed on the floor with a splat.
“Gods don’t demand this!” I threw out a hand to encompass both George and Darren.
“On the contrary, girl, this,” he mocked my gesture, flashing his teeth, “is what keeps us alive. Innocence and happiness destroyed. Pain is power.”
The tears came, rolling silently down my cheeks. George was dead. Darren was dying, and I couldn’t do anything against an army of creatures that bullets hadn’t stopped.
I thought of Adara, safe at home with her cards. She would wonder why I didn’t come home. I wouldn’t see her grow up, plan her wedding, or hold my grandchildren. I was a fucking Empath. But what good was that power against evil?
I could only hope Missy would take care of my daughter.
There was no way out.
Chapter 10
“I could make it painless,” my tormentor cooed, running a hand down Darren’s prone body. “But our gods much prefer torture, so of course, I will not.”
I pushed myself upright, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Only a few more moments now, and this one will be gone,” another creature hissed, stepping forward to survey Darren. It had long hair, the same shade of gray as the others, and wore an ankle-length white dress. I assumed it was a she. Her red eyes fixed on me. “Shall we finish him more quickly so as to prepare her for the journey?”
The first spirit nodded, reaching with his bloody hand toward the crowd behind him. A dagger was brandished, handed off, and he raised it above Darren.
Red rage filled me. I’d only just found the man. After years of mourning the love of my life, I’d found someone who made me feel. He made me laugh. I’d even started blushing again for the first time since my husband passed, for fuck’s sake. Sure, we were only just beginning and tomorrow, we could go our separate ways. But I would be damned if that small chance for happiness was taken from me.
I reached for the talisman in my pocket, seeking strength, and launched myself at the table.
My goal was to shield Darren’s body with my own, even if it meant going down with him. Instead, I stumbled on an uneven stone in the temple, losing my balance as I drew near him. I ripped my hand from my pocket to catch myself, bringing the talisman, a simple rose quartz, with it.
The stone connected with the slab upon which Darren lay, crushed between the table and my palm. Instantly, loud cries rose from the assembly and the table cracked in two, jarring Darren. I jumped away. Nothing was left of the rose quartz but powder, which drifted to the floor.
The leader’s form shimmered before me, agony on his face as the stone slab hummed an angry tune. With a loud screech, the spirit passed through Darren’s body and into the stone table.
Darren jerked, his eyes opening wide. Terrified it would kill him, I leaped forward, ripping him from the table with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. We collapsed to the floor in time to see the stream of Garnerians begin flowing into the table.
It was over in less than a minute. Hundreds of souls disappeared without a trace, Darren’s blood drying in their wake.
*
I came to accept the fact that my daughter was psychic.
In the moments of silence following the exodus of spirits, the SWAT team flooded Garneria to find a naked Darren clutching me next to George’s body. Adara had phoned the police on a hunch, reporting a possible hostage situation, hoping for the big guns. The girl was just like her daddy.
The museum, the media, and the general public wrote off our story as fiction. Garneria remained open, a haven of peace and harmony that had been tainted by a supposed “psycho” who had killed George, terrorized us, and disappeared into the caves.
Jordan Ivey’s body was discovered deep within the temple, slit from navel to neck and drained of all bodily fluids. His blood was found to be part of the river flowing down the steps: another victim of the missing serial killer.
But we knew Garneria wasn’t empty. That it was only dormant. We had felt the spirits there, stilled and held captive beneath the stone table in the cavern.
They were waiting for someone to come along and release them.
*
I sold the house. My love for my childhood home wasn’t strong enough to keep me in Clifden.
Darren and I married; my daughter made a beautiful maid of honor.
We moved across the country, seeking salvation and putting distance between the restless spirits of Garneria and ourselves.
When they finally returned, we knew they would seek us out.
Darren’s blood belonged to them.
#
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About the Author
Heather Marie Adkins loves magick and words, but not necessarily in that order. She can often be found wrangling chickens in her backyard, cackling while she pulls weeds from her herb garden, and saving field mice from her cats—when she isn’t plotting her eventual move to Ireland.
A practicing witch, Heather is a columnist for the Correllian Times as well as the author of numerous published titles including The Temple and Abigail. She lives in north-central Kentucky with a house full of animals and the love of her life—all of whom drive her crazy.
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Acknowledgments
If it weren’t for Eden Crane, the cover of Underneath would still be a way-too-dark image of a cave waterfall from Ireland that I slapped together in Photoshop. So a million thanks to Eden for this lovely cover art!
As often as I go on and on about how I think I suck and I shouldn’t publish books, I send out lots of hugs and appreciation to my friend and fellow author, Julia Crane. If not for her and her constant shoving, not to mention that she adores Underneath, this book probably would have stayed dusty on my hard drive.
For all you betas out there who helped me polish this gem: Erin, Mayme, Katy, Tamra—gratitude. Lots and lots of gratitude.
Other Books by the Author
The Temple, Book One in the Vale Avari Novels
Abigail, Book One in the Witch Faery Trilogy
Constant State of Disaster
Cause & Effect
Short Stories
The Darkest Night, prequel to the Hedgewitch Mysteries
Young Adult Titles
Heaven Below
Eternal Youth, co-written with Nolia McCarty
Short fiction featured in these anthologies:
Eclective: Halloween Collection
Eclective: Holiday Collection
Eclective: Celtic Collection
Eclective: Pride Collection
Eclective: Haunted Collection
Pink Snowbunnies In Hell
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