Page 127 of Divine Oaths

Such sweet sorrow

THE GENERAL, HIS WRAITH FORM now separated from the president’s body, led us through a series of tunnels—tunnels none of us had ever seen—that connected to the medical ward. Even Angelica seemed lost as we marched forward. The Sigmas bound our hands behind our backs with their silver rope, so tight that even moving my wrists was painful. But they didn’t touch Jojo. General Winhall insisted he remained unbound.

“I would like to give him a chance to redeem himself. If he can finish what he started and kill his brother, I will put him as the head of the Westfield University Board of Trustees. The first on his side of the family. Do you see how I’ve progressed with the times?”

Jojo spat at the general.

“Forgive him, General Winhall,” the president said, a few paces behind. “He cannot comprehend all you have in store for us.”

Seemingly appeased by the president’s praise, the general nodded and continued leading us through the tunnels. We emerged at a door that led into a hallway I recognized. And in front of the medical center were two police officers.

Jojo turned to President Saint James, watching carefully to see if the general was listening.

“I don’t need your misguided protection from this anymore, Uncle. Help us. None of us stand to gain anything if you let him destroy the university.”

“You don’t think I’ve been trying to stop him?” the president seethed, whispering. “All my life, our side of the family has lived under his curse. Every president forced to be a passenger in his own body while the evil we believed our forefathers slayed still exists. All because Duncan thought to make a trophy out of Winhall’s relic. And now the curse exists and both of our families are haunted by it. Do you think I want this for Alaster? Do you think I want this for myself?”

“Capitulating to him and the board of trustees isn’t fighting, Uncle. Neither is being a reluctant host for his soul. You think he’ll let Alaster live? If my research on the affinities of time is correct, Winhall will murder him like he killed Duncan. But this time, he’ll have Sianna keep Alaster’s corpse animated until her affinity is strong enough for a permanent resurrection. That is the legacy he’s left your side of the family. Death. Horrors against humanity beyond fathoming. Alaster will die too if you don’t face the scourge he’s instilled in your lineage.”

“I will destroy the ring when I die and banish him. I’ve instructed Sigma and Theta,” the president said. “This is where it ends.”

A few feet away, Winhall was giving orders to his wraiths, unperturbed by Jojo and the president’s bickering.

“Don’t you see?” Jojo said. “He infiltrated Sigma and Theta. He knows you betrayed him. That’s why he poisoned the Board and Honey. It’s why he’s unleashed his fury on us all.”

There was no other help coming. It was just us.

The officers stopped us in front of the medical center, and the president nodded to the Sigmas.

“No one leaves or enters,” one of the officers said. But the Sigmas were too fast. The wraiths discarded the bodies they possessed and charged into the officers, forcing masks on them. They too fought the possession, their eyes rolling to the backs of their heads, their screams primal.

Alaster appeared at the medical center’s door, shock written across his face. Just behind him, Kasem held Honey. She was alive. She looked pale, and faint, her breathing shallow. But she was alive.

“Take Honey,” Alaster said. “Now.”

Kasem glanced across the hallway, to where Angelica, Jojo, and I stood.

“Go,” I whispered. “Please.”

He nodded, giving me a look that spoke a thousand words and more, before retreating into the safety of the medical center.

Alaster stepped out, locking the door behind him and staring at the wraith of Winhall with a mix of horror and awe.

“Now, why on earth would you do such a thing as that?” General Winhall said. “Unlock the door. It’s almost midnight.”

Alaster turned past the general to stare at his father.

“Do what the general asks, Alaster.”

The words had come from the president’s lips, but it had been in the general’s voice, his mouth moving in tandem with his puppet, the gold ring, his relic, allowing him to control the president in his separate wraith form.

“It’s the ring,” I said. “If you sever the connection, your father will be free.”

“Sianna’s right,” Angelica said. “Your line of the family has been cursed too, and this is its vestige.”

“Enough,” General Winhall said. “Kill her.”

Suddenly, President Saint James lurched forward, grabbing Angelica by the throat.