She considered retracing her steps, but changed her mind and pulled magic to jump back to the chamber next to the front door. If Seeker magic wouldn’t do it, she’d use her Seer gift and ask it to take her back in time to when Fionn and Rune had entered the prison.
More than anything, the length of time it took her to return to the chamber told her how far underground she’d been. Much farther than where Slototh had dragged her. Something nagged at her. The dark god’s name. She could think it now and say it without struggling not to puke. Did that mean he was neutralized? At least for now? She dared to let herself hope.
Settling near the open, arched doorway, she reveled in feeling sunshine on her back. Was it still the same day, or had she been underground so long that it was tomorrow? She shook her head hard. It didn’t matter. The only thing that did was finding Fionn, Rune, and the others.
Unbuckling her pack, she shoved it under her butt. She still felt sore and stretched from the Minotaur’s bulky member. How the hell had Dewi done that?
The same way Rune merges with me. The difference is he respects me. She doesn’t.
Recalling exactly what Fionn had done when he’d led her into her Seer magic, she closed her eyes and summoned a trance state. When she thought she had it, she asked the magic to show her Fionn leading his company through this very room. Spectral bodies marched past her. Ones that got close dissolved when they ran up against her, only to reanimate on the other side. She sent her astral self trailing after the last of the company.
Shades blocked her way, but she shoved though them. Her astral projection wasn’t warm, so she didn’t have anything they wanted. The ghostly company went into the prison itself, not down where she’d been. As Aislinn followed them down long, stone walkways, she was amazed how large the place was.
Must have housed thousands…
Finally, she saw dazed humans, wandering from cell to cell, and her heart leapt. They were here after all. It was the damned labyrinth that had confounded things. Her joy faded as she watched them. It was like they’d been hypnotized, eyes glazed, staring straight ahead. Fionn! Where was he? Or Rune? He should be easy enough to find. She tried calling, then realized no one would hear her. She needed her body for that.
Because she didn’t have to wait for the spectral soldiers to show her the way, Aislinn sped back to her body, shoving shades out of the way as she went. The disorienting thump as astral and physical bodies collided practically flattened her. She wondered how long it had been since she’d eaten.
Pushing the thought away—there’d be time to eat later—she took off at a lope for where she’d found the humans. The shades were more than an annoyance this time. She was warm and breathing. They wanted what she had, so they swarmed her, clawing at her with skeletal fingers. One sliced her with a knife, but the cut wasn’t deep. She kicked the blade out of his hand and pocketed it so he couldn’t jump her from behind. Enemies who were already dead were such a pain in the ass.
Shoved hard from the rear, she sprawled face down on the floor, spitting out dirt. God only knew how many had piled on her and pushed her down. Aislinn reached for her magic, but it was useless against shades, since they were beyond feeling pain.
“Let me go,” she begged. “You have to let me go. Friends are trapped in this building.” She wondered if telling them that was a mistake. Shades fed on life. If they didn’t already know a bunch of live bodies could be found nearby, she’d just torn the lid off that can.
“And you’ll be a’lettin’ her go,” a low, melodic female voice with a strong Irish lilt said. “Now. I won’t be a’tellin’ you agin.”
Aislinn gasped as the weight holding her down evaporated like dew on a hot morning. She’d know that voice anywhere. Getting to her feet, she ignored the cut places on her hands. She searched the gloom, didn’t find what she sought, so she cranked more lumens into her mage light.
“Mother? I know you’re here. Show yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tara Lenear stepped out of the mass of shades. Her red hair was still long and luminous. Her golden eyes glowed with delight. She held out her hands. The nails were cracked, the skin split and desiccated. “Ach, mo leannán,” she crooned. “I never thought to see you agin in this life.”
Aislinn’s throat thickened with unshed tears. “Thanks, Mom,” she managed brokenly. “If you could keep the rest of them off me, I have people to rescue.”
Cold, dead fingers closed on Aislinn’s hand. She squeezed back. Stepping close, she hugged her mother. Underneath the stench of dead meat, she could still pick out the smells she’d always associated with Tara: lavender, cinnamon, and musk.