Ireland, today
“I can’t believe we got this before the Serpents did,” Baird said as she and the Librarians hustled across the moonlit ruins to reach the gateway they had used earlier. Stone lugged the empty Cauldron, which was lighter than it looked. Baird hurried the others along, anxious to get the Pot back to the Library before the leprechaun led Max and his henchmen to its former hiding place. “Let’s get a move on, people.”
“But what about Grady?” Cassandra asked.
“I don’t know,” Baird admitted. She didn’t like the idea of the sly old fiddler being in the Brotherhood’s clutches either. “Hopefully we can rescue him later, after we make sure the Cauldron is locked up tight.” She checked in with Jenkins via her phone. “Heading your way. Got a door waiting for us?”
“Raring to go, Colonel,” he answered. “I look forward to your timely return.”
“Me, too.” She spied the archway up ahead, where the gatehouse used to be. Heaps of rubble and fragments of bygone walls and buildings rose from the grounds of the derelict monastery. Baird was already anticipating the successful completion of their mission, not to mention being warm and dry again. “Portland, here we come!”
“I wouldn’t count your cauldrons before they’re collected,” an unwanted voice intruded as Max stepped out from behind the remains of a crumbling chapel, accompanied by his hulking bodyguard, as well as a female companion who matched the description of the woman Stone and Cassandra had encountered at the Serpents’ safe house. The former carried an aluminum carrying case, while the latter had Grady, in his true guise, on a leash. The leprechaun’s hands were cuffed before him. Gunmetal glinted in the moonlight as Max held his firearm on Baird and the Librarians. “It appears we arrived at this godforsaken location just in time.”
“Later would have been better,” Baird said coldly. She glanced around, weighing their chances, even as more henchmen emerged from the scattered ruins, surrounding them. Baird counted at least four additional hostiles. “Brought plenty of backup this time, I see.”
“A prudent precaution,” Max said, “given how Librarians are multiplying these days.” He surveyed the opposition. “I take it Mister Flynn is still otherwise occupied?”
“Lucky for you,” Baird said.
“Oh, I doubt his presence would significantly alter the equation,” Max argued. “I have the upper hand … and a hostage, to boot. I’m certain you wouldn’t want any harm to come to Mister O’Gradaigh here.”
“Forgive me, me friends,” the leprechaun said forlornly. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “’Twas never me desire that ye should be caught up in me sorrows.”
“We’re Librarians,” Ezekiel assured him. “Filing evil under history is kind of what we do.”
“Not for much longer,” Max said smugly. “It’s high time that the eternal war between the Brotherhood and the Library ends in a decisive victory … and not for your side, I’m afraid.”
He nodded at Owens, who put down the case in order to frisk Baird and the Librarians while the other henchmen stood guard. Baird scowled, but she wasn’t ready to cry uncle just yet. The Librarians’ best weapons were their brains, so she still had an arsenal at her disposal. If anybody could think their way out of this predicament, it was her team. Preferably before Max made off with the Cauldron.
“Colonel?” Jenkins’s voice emerged from her phone. “What is it? What’s happening?”
Snarling, Owens snatched Baird’s phone from her hand. His surly expression made it clear that he hadn’t forgotten Baird kicking his butt back at the pub in Chicago, as did the bandage taped over his busted nose. He took obvious pleasure in snapping the phone in half with his bare hands and hurling the pieces in her face before disposing of the other team members’ phones as well.
“Now then,” Max said, “onto our main objective.”
Owens smirked as he claimed the Cauldron from Stone, earning him a dirty look from the unhappy Librarian. At Max’s direction, Owens placed the relic atop an aboveground stone tomb that bore an unpleasant resemblance to an altar. Max admired the Cauldron as he took a moment to savor his triumph.
“Magnificent,” he pronounced. “And mine at last.”
Coral looked equally thrilled. “We’ve found it, just like you always said we would!”
“Aye,” Grady said bitterly. “Ye have what ye asked for. Now will youse let me free?”
Coral looked hopefully at her boss. “Max?”
“Not yet, Coral,” he stated. “If nothing else, he still makes a valuable hostage.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” She regarded the Librarians warily before apologizing to the leprechaun. “I’m sorry, Mister O’Gradaigh, but it’s for the greater good.…”
“Sure it is,” Baird scoffed. “Nothing like human sacrifice and turning people into zombies to make the world a better place.”
“What are you talking about?” Coral gave Baird a puzzled look. “We’re going to use the Cauldron to feed the world, eliminate want and hunger.”
She sounded utterly sincere to Baird, who almost felt sorry for her. “So I’m guessing your boss left out the part about the Cauldron being able to bring the dead back to life—and not in a good way?”
“No, you’ve got it all wrong.” Coral turned to Max for reassurance. “Tell her, Max. Tell her that’s not what we’re about.”
Max smirked at her distress. “Well, to tell the truth, I may have indeed kept you in the dark regarding certain aspects of our operation. The Cauldron is far too powerful a relic to waste on charitable enterprises and, personally, I have little interest in overseeing a magical soup kitchen.”
“But … but I thought we wanted to help people.”
“Aside from all the leprechauns you murdered to steal their pots?” Cassandra challenged her. “Both in Ireland and America?”
“Murdered? We never…”
Max chuckled. “You were better off not knowing, my dear.”
Coral’s face fell. She clutched the prism dangling around her throat as she backed away from Max. “This can’t be true. I would never have helped you if had known.…”
“Which is precisely why I never told you.” Max nodded at his bodyguard. “Owens, please relieve Coral of her precious brainchild.”
The pink-haired woman quailed as the looming thug took the prism from her and thrust it into his pocket. Stepping behind her, he claimed the leash holding Grady as well. Tears ran down Coral’s face as the betrayal sunk in. Guilt rattled her voice.
“I’m such an idiot. I should have known you were just using me. I’m never going to be able to live with myself.…”
Max shrugged. “Allow us to relieve you of that difficulty.”
He nodded at Owens, who was now standing behind Coral. Before Baird or the others could even think about intervening, Coral gasped and toppled face-forward onto the ground, exposing the bloody stiletto in the bodyguard’s hand. Crimson drops fell from the blade.
“Ye cold-blooded devil!” Grady raged. “That poor colleen had a trace of a heart in her, unlike the rest of youse. Ye didn’t need to do that!”
“I beg to differ,” Max said. “A sacrifice was required, per the old ways, so Coral had one last role to play in these proceedings. Behold.”
He beckoned to Owens, who handed Grady’s leash over to Max before lobbing the bloody knife into the waiting Cauldron, which reacted immediately to the grisly offering. Steam rose from the Pot as its bowl filled with a bubbling, sickly green brew that smelled like a bonfire. The brew fumed and foamed as though it were cooking over hot coals. An eerie glow lit up the Cauldron from the inside, illuminating the Celtic art adorning the outside of the Pot. A wild wind came out of nowhere, whipping up the grass and weeds around the ad hoc altar. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees in a matter of moments. Baird felt goosebumps breaking out across her flesh.
“Uh-oh,” Cassandra murmured. “This can’t be good.”
“Not one bit,” Stone exposited, filling in for Jenkins. “The blood sacrifice has brought out the Cauldron’s darker nature.”
“So, no all-you-can-eat deal?” Ezekiel sighed. “I knew I should have grabbed a snack on the way.”
Max procured the aluminum case. “Keep watching, Librarians. You don’t want to miss this part.”
Cracking open the case to reveal a human skull with matching bones, he carefully fed the osseous remains into the Cauldron, saving the skull for last. The bleached death’s head appeared to grin in anticipation, flaunting a pair of curved fangs that struck Baird as distinctly serpentine in nature. The fangs reminded her of Jenkins’s account of how an earlier Guardian had decapitated a female Serpent centuries ago—and of the looted grave they’d found beneath that overturned monument a few days ago. How had that inscription on the megalith gone again?
“Here lieth the bones of that foul serpent which once infested our shores. Let no hand disturb these unholy remains, on peril of your soul.”
Baird feared she saw where this was going.…
With a dramatic flourish, Max cast the fanged skull into the bubbling Cauldron, then stepped back to await the results of his conjuring. Thick black fumes billowed from the Pot, obscuring its contents. Flashes of eldritch energy could be glimpsed through the smoke, like lightning glimpsed through churning storm clouds. The brew bubbled furiously. Bones clattered loudly before falling ominously silent. Thunder rumbled overhead. Dark clouds grew darker still even as the eerie glow of the Cauldron got brighter.
“Wait for it,” Max said.
A figure rose sinuously from the Cauldron, like a cobra called forth from a wicker basket by a snake charmer. The swirling mists dissipated to reveal a tall, raven-haired woman clad in a silvery sheath that glittered like the scales of a serpent. Her pale skin had a faintly iridescent sheen.
“Lady Sibella,” Max greeted his reborn predecessor. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”
I knew it, Baird thought. He’s literally brought the Serpent back to Ireland.
“Wait,” Ezekiel asked. “Where did her dress come from?”
Cassandra gave him a look. “Seriously, that’s what you’re worrying about now? It’s magic, okay?”
“Whatever,” Ezekiel said. “Excuse me for asking.”
Sibella stretched her arms above her head, luxuriating in her unholy resurrection, before stepping gracefully out of the Cauldron and onto the damp, grassy earth. Slitted yellow eyes surveyed the desolate surroundings.
“And you are?” she asked Max.
“Maximillian Lambton,” he replied. “Current heir to the glory of the Serpent Brotherhood.”
Lambton, huh? Baird filed Max’s surname away for reference. However, that he had openly divulged it in front of her and the Librarians spoke volumes about his intentions regarding them. He’s not planning to let us go.
“I see,” Sibella said sibilantly. “I take it I have you to thank for my rebirth?”
“You’re quite welcome,” Max said, laying on the charm. “And with you at my right hand, my leadership of the Brotherhood will be unquestioned, as we finally achieve our greatest goals.”
Baird remembered what Jenkins had said about revenants being under the control of whomever brought them back to life. She assumed that Max was diplomatically reminding Lady Sibella who was in charge now.
“In that case, I’m at your disposal,” Sibella replied, getting the message. Her expression hardened as her reptilian gaze shifted to Grady, whom Max still had on a leash. Venom dripped from her voice. “We meet again, little man.”
Grady glared back at her. “I don’t suppose ye’re inclined to let bygones be bygones?”
“Hardly,” she said. “We have unfinished business, you and I. Time has been kinder to you than I shall be.”
Baird piped up to keep her from taking any steps against Grady right away. “Spoken like a Serpent. Still holding a grudge after fifteen hundred years.”
Sibella turned her attention to the captives, crossing the churchyard to inspect them. Her nose wrinkled in distaste.
“I know your kind. You reek of the Library.” Her smooth brow furrowed as she swept her gaze over Baird and the others. “But … more than a single Librarian in this age?”
“That’s right,” Baird said. “We’ve expanded the franchise. Try to keep up.”
“Ah, you must be their Guardian.” Sibella’s hand went to her throat, as though to reassure herself that it was intact once more. “One of yours cost me my head in days gone by. Dear Deidre is doubtless dust by now, so I’ll have to settle our account with you.”
Baird had faced down terrorists, demons, and the Egyptian god of chaos. She wasn’t going to let this slinky snake-woman intimidate her.
“Do your worst. The Library outlived you before and it will again. Even if you kill me, there will be another Guardian to squash you Serpents, as many times as it takes.”
“Ah, but now we have the Cauldron,” Sibella pointed out. “And you and your companions are at our mercy, so it will be a simple matter to sacrifice each of you to the Cauldron, one after another, and thereby transform you all into thralls serving the Serpent Brotherhood. Under our command, you will grant us admittance to the Library, bypassing its myriad fortifications, so that we may lay claim to its treasures and secrets … before finally destroying it once and for all time!” She glanced at Max. “With your permission, of course.”
“By all means,” he consented. “I applaud your initiative, Lady Sibella. We are indeed of like minds.”
Baird fought to maintain a poker face. She wasn’t sure what dismayed her more, being killed in cold blood or personally letting the Serpents penetrate the Library’s defenses.
That last one, she decided. Definitely.
“Hang on there!” she said. “I hate to break it to you, toots, but human sacrifice has gone out of fashion since your day. Maybe you need to update your act?”
Her argument carried no weight with Max. “What can I say?” he quipped. “We’re traditionalists at heart.” He smiled at Sibella. “Would you care to do the honors, milady?”
“It will be my pleasure.” She eyed Baird with vindictive glee. A forked tongue licked her lips. “You first, Guardian.”
A cold hand grabbed Baird’s arm, locking onto it like a vise, and began dragging Baird toward the waiting Cauldron. Baird fought back with all her strength and skill, punching and kicking expertly, but, just as Jenkins had warned, Sibella had returned from the grave inhumanly strong and indestructible; she shrugged off Baird’s blows as though she were being swatted with a feather. Baird dug in her heels, but succeeded only in leaving two deep grooves in the ground behind her.
“Let go of me, you witch!”
Her Librarians shouted in protest as well. They tried to go to her rescue, but were held back by Max’s goons, not to mention the gun aimed in their direction.
“Stop it!” Cassandra yelled at Max. “You can’t do this! It’s barbaric!”
“Patience,” he counseled her. “Your turn will come soon enough.” He glanced down at Coral’s lifeless form. “A shame I can’t resurrect an even more cooperative version of Coral, but her sacrifice was required to bring Lady Sibella back to life after all this time.”
Grady buried his face in his hands. “May the fates forgive me. This is all my doing.…”
“Please,” Max said. “Give me a little credit as well.”
“You son of a bitch!” Stone snarled. “You better hope that Cauldron works as advertised or I’m coming for you, man!”
“What he said!” Ezekiel added.
Baird overheard the heated exchange as, despite her furious efforts, she arrived at the makeshift altar bearing the Cauldron. Her fists pounded uselessly against Sibella’s immaculate visage as the undead aristocrat gripped Baird’s shoulders with both hands and bent her backward against the brim of the Cauldron, which was still bubbling and boiling. Baird felt the heat of the scalding brew against the back of her neck. A bitter aroma filled her nose and lungs.
“Say your prayers, Guardian,” Sibella said. “And give my regards to Deidre during your ever-so-brief stint in the underworld.”
Sibella’s jaws opened wider than was anatomically possible, baring twin fangs that absolutely had to be venomous as all get-out. Baird refused to cringe, but she flinched inwardly at the thought of Sibella’s fangs plunging into her neck … as well as the horrors that would come afterward.
I’d rather stay dead than become a Serpent.…
Before Sibella could strike, however, a bell rang out across the ruins.
The serpent-woman winced at the sound. She hissed angrily, forgetting Baird for the moment, although the Guardian remained caught in Sibella’s unbreakable grip. Sibella glared balefully in the direction of the ringing, as did everyone else.
“No!” she cried out. “Not that damnable bell again!”
Twisting her neck around to see what was happening, Baird saw Jenkins striding toward them across the ruins, ringing a plain iron bell.
And not just any bell.
“Ohmigosh,” Cassandra blurted. “It’s Saint Patrick’s Bell!”
Straight from the Library, Baird guessed. “Seriously, I’m actually being saved by the bell?”
The sight of the Bell enraged Sibella, who flung Baird away in order to charge at Jenkins with frightening speed. Screeching more in anger than in pain, she tore the Bell from the ageless caretaker’s grasp, then struck him with a backhanded blow that sent Jenkins smashing through a decrepit stone wall, leaving him sprawled on his back amidst the debris. He blinked and shook his head, looking dazed by the impact.
“Saint Patrick?” Sibella said furiously. “That was his reward for hindering me?”
“Narcissistic much?” Jenkins sat up slowly, recovering from her attack. “Not everything is about you, Lady Sibella. I regret to inform you, but you’re little more than a footnote in some dusty old archives these days.”
Sibella hissed and flashed her fangs at him. “No matter! I am stronger and more invincible than I ever was before. This irksome relic is a mere annoyance now.” She crushed the iron bell with her bare hand, the metal crumpling loudly. “Did you truly think I feared its ugly pealing now that I am reborn?”
Jenkins brushed pulverized stone from his suit as though it were dandruff. “Who said I was ringing the Bell for you?”
A mournful wail echoed across the ruins, sending a chill down Baird’s spine.
The banshee had found them again.