Velocity (The Gravity Series) Read online

  “Serious concentration going on in here, huh?” Hugh said, looking over my shoulder at the screen.

  I sat back and stretched my legs, which were starting to cramp. “I’m looking into the original Thornhill Society more. So far, I’ve found out that Umbra Regnum is Latin for Shadow Kingdom. Not exactly a happy slogan. If that doesn’t make their intentions obvious…”

  “What else have you found out?”

  “Not too much, yet. But I’m not finished.”

  Kissing my hair, he rested his chin for a second on my head. “Don’t stay up too late. You have school in the morning.”

  He made me chop suey for a late dinner and I ate it while still researching, deep in detective mode. I kept coming across bits and pieces of information, but they led to dead ends. I researched each member of the 1930s society, taking the names from the photo I’d found of them. It was currently propped up against the laptop screen, and showed five people in grainy black and white―John Dexter himself, Cynthia Warwick, Hazel Ford, Paul Rhodes, and Dr. George Slaughter. All distant relatives of my current foes.

  The main man himself, Dexter, was considered by many to be philanthropic and generous, although reclusive and a bit strange. He’d left a good legacy in the tiny paragraphs describing him.

  But his darker history came out as I dug into wikis and messageboards about ghost stories. The stories that Warwick had told me originally―involving ritual sacrifice, child abuse, mysterious deaths―were all described by varying accounts. While I was curious to learn about him, the more I learned, the sicker I felt. This was what I was related to?

  Cynthia, or Sissy, as she was commonly known, was some young socialite. There were a few black-and-white photos of her during the twenties as a flapper. Then she just disappeared and I couldn’t find any more information about her.

  Hazel Ford was an old, rich widow who had lived to almost ninety and left all of her money to a series of bachelor nephews and bountiful nieces. I traced her family tree, clicking through the branches until I’d hit all dead bodies.

  On to the good doctor, George Slaughter had spent a good stretch treating TB patients at a Michigan state infirmary up north. He’d lived and died without getting married or having children.

  The final person that I looked up was Paul Rhodes. He seemed fairly nondescript―I couldn’t even find another picture of him. Considering how much press and attention Phillip was fond of getting, it surprised me. The hole I found when looking for Paul stirred the fires of my curiosity.

  As I was searching, I committed every detail about each person to my memory. I wanted as clear of a picture as I could get in my head to improve my chances of getting back to their time. I didn’t know how hard it would be to go back that far―after all, I’d only attempted thirty years before. Eighty was a whole different ball game with very old equipment.

  Finally, just as my fried eyes were about to give up, I googled down a poorly made blog that held promise. The background was black with garish red text. Glowing red flame animations danced all over the page, as an invitation for epilepsy. Those were not the promising parts.

  It appeared to show information about Dexter and the rituals. I started scribbling down notes as soon as I began to read.

  Dexter planned the ritual of Umbra Regnum, or shadow realm, for years. He executed his sacrifices spread out over the course of nine years, so as not to draw suspicion to the deaths. Even though he practiced on the orphans in his care, there were other deaths, though no one talked about it.

  Each seal under his town, the town of Hell, MI, which is still there today, required a certain amount of blood to activate. Just like the other Dark bringing rituals, there is a final seal under a certain point. Using a soul amulet, Dexter planned to open the seal and harness the Dark energy into himself. It did not work out as planned, however, although the details of that night have never been spoken of. I spoke to a relative of the widow Hazel Ford, one of the survivors of the failed ritual of Umbra Regnum. The man gave me her personal diaries that outlined the evening.

  The ritual began with a great feast around the dining table. Then, they retreated to the final seal, where three girls of precious blood were supposed to be sacrificed. What happened then is unknown, but Dexter failed at the ritual and disappeared. His Dark legacy follows him to this day.

  A great feast around the dining room table? I could definitely imagine that, since it was the same one that Henry, Alex, Theo, and I had had the séance on back in the day. I’d been drawn to that room on several occasions and it made sense. Rubbing one of my dry eyes, I scrolled down the page, and clicked on a link called True Angels.

  Angels are all around us, it’s true. But they are invisible, and not the good, noble creatures we’ve always learned of. They inhabit a morally ambiguous area. Our laws are meaningless to them, and our lives trivial and as short as the blink of an eye. But occasionally, a angel will cross over and find favor with a human. They will mate with them to carry on the Luminos blood. Those who have Luminos blood will display great potential―strong spirit Sight, lack of aversion to blood, the ability to command soul amulets for Dark travel, and even the possible potential to tap into the holy light. But their powers are unstable, and most will not be able to harness them. Some will be destroyed by their own efforts to use the powers.

  Curious as to who cultivated such a sophisticated blog, I searched around for an about me page. The picture was an animated devil, and the guy went by the name DeathSeagull. I didn’t find email. And to be honest, I was not sure that I wanted to exchange emails with someone who would go by that moniker.

  I sat back, shutting the laptop. So that was it. I had all of those things, save for the last. I really was part angel. But how did I stop myself from getting hurt or losing my mind as I used the powers?

  I knew my next step. Dexter and his clan had been attempting a much bigger ritual, unlike Phillip’s high school experiment. Just like we were up against now. I wanted to see what stopped them.

  CHAPTER 16

  I’D NEVER SEEN so many people crammed into Callie’s apartment before. Not only were the core members of the opposition group there, but Madison, Alex, and Henry had arrived with, curious about the grounding stone. Most everyone was gathered in the living room, but my friends were sitting beside me in the bedroom.

  Several people had shown irritation at Henry being included. I heard whispers of protest about him being Rhodes’ son.

  “He’s a part of this whether we agree or not,” I’d heard my father say to Joe Reed earlier.

  I was propped up on Callie’s cozy bed. Her entire room was decorated in tones of soothing blue, down to the lamps and the sky blue Kleenex box on the side table.

  Theo was coaching the others on what to expect when I went under. “She totally looks like a corpse, but don’t worry. She pops right back up again.”

  “Is it safe?” Henry asked, frowning.

  “That’s what all the monitors are for,” I said, gesturing.

  I still hadn’t had any luck reaching any of Thornhill’s recent history, so my path was sure. I had to go back and see John Dexter and the original Thornhill Society’s Umbra Regnum ritual.

  “This is going to probably be by far the longest of these you’ve undertaken,” Hugh said. “If anything bad happens, come back. If we notice a severe drop on any of the monitors, we’ll remove the stone and pull you out.”

  “I’ll be checking your stats every fifteen minutes,” Callie piped up. “Alarms will sound if your respiration or heart rate drops too low or too fast.” She adjusted the wires around me so I had more room to move. “I know it’s not the most comfortable setup, but this way we will be sure to catch anything before it goes wrong.”

  “I don’t like this,” Henry said. He leaned forward and squeezed my hand. “This doesn’t sound safe at all.”

  “I’m fine, Henry,” I insisted. “Let’s get started so I don’t have time to change my mind.”

  “Hugh, you’re reall
y okay with this?”

  “We don’t have any other choice,” he said, staring hard into Henry’s eyes. “I was doubtful at the beginning, too, Henry. But she’s used the stone before and been fine afterward.”

  Henry stood up, kissed me on the forehead, and went to the door. “Be that as it may, I don’t want to watch. I’ll be right out here, Ariel.”

  Although I was trying to keep it together, I was very nervous about seeing Dexter in the flesh. Especially now that I know we’re related. And I didn’t think that the black dog would be happy.

  I lay back, watching everyone else retreat from the room. Alex gave me a double thumbs up on the way out. With my shaking hand, I balanced the grounding stone on my chest. It had definitely gotten heavier―it could have easily weighed ten pounds now. I listened to the sounds in the next room until I found the blackness.

  I pictured the members of Dexter’s Society sitting around the dining room table, his portrait staring at them. Candles glowing in the candelabras. Dexter at the head, watching them all with intelligent, soulless eyes.

  His painting was scary enough, but in the flesh, John Dexter gave off a presence that was intimidating, even from across the room. He stared at the flames reflected in his wine goblet. He wore a heavy, long coat, the bottom of which draped along the edges of his chair. I noticed Eleanor’s necklace hanging against his chest, in a triangle of bare skin revealed by his undone buttons. His hair was longer than the photo and painting in which I’d seen him, hanging in scraggly chunks. Just the sight of him made my blood run cold.

  Yet, I felt drawn to him. I looked him over, searching for any sign of kindness or softness. But all of the bones of his face were hard and his expression was merciless. There was nothing to show he that had a heart. The softer side of Dexter didn’t exist, apparently.

  His guests were talking amongst themselves softly. I walked around the table, watching the animated corpses in the candlelight. The room was decorated beautifully, with a red satin tablecloth, oil paintings on the walls, and a cabinet full of gleaming goblets and delicate china that looked like it had never been used.

  I thought of how he’d dressed the orphans in potato sacks and torn nightgowns and thought I might be sick. All of his guests had dressed well for the evening, the men in slick suits and the two women in beautiful dresses on opposite ends of the fashion spectrum―Sissy wore a knee-length, sequined red dress, and Hazel Ford was dressed like a Victorian duchess.

  I noticed a grandfather clock on the other side of the room. I didn’t remember seeing it before. As I looked closer, I realized it was just like the one we used to have in our dining room. The pendulum swung gently, as if rocking a child to sleep.

  Sissy twisted her short, uneven hair around her fingers. She was muttering to herself in a high baby voice. “Don’t look now, here comes the star. Don’t look now, don’t looky look.”

  Well, at least someone here had been touched by the crazy.

  The widow Ford and Paul Rhodes, who looked quite a bit like the other men in his bloodline although not as handsome, were huddled together in quiet conversation. His eyes kept shifting around the room, never focusing on one place. Dr. Slaughter was twisting a dinner knife on his palm and staring into the candle fire.

  “Will the Mortius pendant work?” Rhodes spoke up from his spot.

  “How can you ask such a thing?” Dexter replied coldly. His voice was surprisingly soft, not what I’d imagined from such a large, imposing man. “Of course it will work. It is hot, even now, with the power from the captured souls.”

  “I mean no harm. I was merely wondering,” Rhodes said. But there was a restless, shifting gleam in his eye that I didn’t trust. I’d seen the same look from Phillip.

  Sissy picked up a fork full of food from her still-full plate. She glanced around the room, then dropped the fork again, eying it longingly. The food didn’t look at all appetizing―there was some kind of gray slop that looked like brains, and a bloody piece of steak with some beans beside it. For a feast, none of them had eaten much. I didn’t blame them.

  “I was able to bring all of the equipment you requested,” Dr. Slaughter said. He was younger than I expected him to be. He gestured to his leather satchel. “The scalpels were easy enough to conceal. The tranquilizers might illicit an inquiry.”

  “If there is anyone around to ask questions after tonight,” Sissy said, letting off a nervous giggle. The idea either terrified or excited her.

  Anticipation filled the room, electric and suffocating. I could feel it against my skin. Dexter drank his wine.

  “You won’t have mixed feelings, will you?” Doctor Slaughter asked. “About Ruby?”

  Dexter’s tongue covered his teeth. “I have no real feelings. She’s the closest thing I have to kill.” The others didn’t look convinced, and I wondered who this woman was. It was the first I’d heard of her.

  “Where are the rest of the orphans?” Rhodes asked. “The ones that are left?”

  “Most of them are fertilizing crops in the field,” Dexter said casually. “But the others are tied up downstairs, just in case.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Rhodes asked, tilting his eyebrow. He was pushing it again.

  Dexter seemed to find that humorous, and traced the top of his goblet. “They’ll all die soon enough.”

  The clock struck midnight. “It’s time,” Dexter said, and rose to his feet. The rest of them followed his lead.

  At the huge fireplace, Dexter paused, tapping the ashy grate with his foot. Then, just like that, he walked right inside and to the right. I’d never thought of checking the fireplace, too creeped out by its size and icky smell. Behind the fireplace was a hidden corridor. I followed them down a long, twisting passageway.

  At the end of the passageway, the tunnel spilled out into a wide cavern. The walls and floors were made of dirt, with a rough wooden structure supporting the ceiling. There was a gigantic seal in the middle of the ground. I’d never seen this one before, and my breath caught in my throat. The final seal, the one that Phillip had told me didn’t exist. He must have really thought I was stupid.

  It was twice as large in diameter as the others, and much more ornate and ugly. It looked like it was carved out of stone, and there were copper symbols set directly into it. Beastly shapes―not quite animals, more like demons―had been carved into the stone. It looked as though each was eating the one next to it.

  There were iron plates in the corners of the large room, and I could make out fuzzy, humanoid shapes standing on them. But even when I squinted, I couldn’t see them exactly. I must not be able to see spirits mingling with the past, I thought.

  Three girls were bound together on the seal. The one in the middle looked very familiar, but I could only see part of her young face. All of them had their heads bowed, and were dressed in long, white tiered dresses―just like the one I’d dream myself into several times.

  Dexter definitely had the ceremonial touch.

  The woman in the middle lifted her head, and I saw with a shock that it was the woman in red. Only she looked pale and scared now. I caught a streak of defiance in her eye as the group drew closer.

  I knew in an instant that she was Ruby, and it didn’t take long to make the connection. Ruby was my great-grandmother, and something had turned her into the red woman. I had a creepy instinct that I was about to witness exactly what that was.

  The other orphans, about ten girls and boys in all, were tied together in the corner. They watched the proceedings with frightened eyes. All of them had very short hair and were wearing baggy, brittle clothing.

  Sissy picked up a rock from the cavern floor and chucked it in Ruby’s direction. Ruby tilted her head and the rock missed her by an inch. Dexter turned and glared at Sissy, wiping the smile from her face.

  I felt a stirring to my right, and turned. Eleanor was suddenly beside me. This time, I tried not to freak out. She would have already hurt me or attacked me if she could or was going to. She was my
grandmother, after all.

  “Watch closely,” she said in her slithering whisper. The dog was sitting and watching the proceedings intently, his eyes trained on Ruby.

  Dexter turned around and stared right at Eleanor and me. My skin crawled and I froze on instinct. He turned back to what he was doing, but I knew he had sensed us there in the shadows.

  “His power is strong, but he can’t see us. We weren’t there in his time,” Eleanor said in answer to my unspoken fear. “The most he can feel is our energy.”

  “Umbra Regnum,” Dexter said. The others repeated the phrase. “Now is the time to call forward the Dark realm.”

  Lifting up the familiar book that Rhodes had used, Dexter began to speak the same words, his voice booming against the high ceiling. “Oh Dark Master, we call to thee…”

  The others lit candles as he spoke. When he reached the end of the first section he paused and picked up the ceremonial dagger by its ivory handle. Staying there was becoming a struggle. My heart pounded in protest as I grew sick and nauseous. I was shaking with effort of trying to hold on.

  “Stay. You need to see the end of this,” Eleanor warned.

  Dexter walked around in front of Ruby. He rested the blade up against her rosy cheek. She winced and closed her eyes. I prepared myself for the violence to come. But then Dexter paused, keeping the tip of the knife still. I hesitantly walked around and looked into his face, and for the first time saw emotion. He had feelings for her.

  Even though I struggled to keep the vision before me steady, I couldn’t hold on anymore. Reality hit me much harder than it ever had before. A cracking sound reverberated through my ears as I came to, and I was instantly on my feet, the room spinning fast around me.

  For a second, I didn’t know who anyone was.

  “Ariel, it’s okay. We’re here,” said a cute boy with brown eyes. He grabbed on to me to hold me steady. I blinked, focusing on his tentative, pained smile. Henry.

  The girl with red hair beside him tried to smile at me, too. She was wearing a lot of glitter and a polka-dotted dress with little skull patterns on the collar. But her vivid green eyes were worried. “She’s usually not this upset,” she told the others. “We should go get her dad.”