The Sunken Tower

by J A Campbell

  The one she thought might be Darien and a shorter Greek man argued about something, but they were too far away for her to overhear. Finally, the Greek man shook his head, and a couple others peeled off and headed back toward town. The rest continued on in Elise’s direction.

  They glanced at her, and Elise blushed. She’d been staring. Dropping her gaze, she quickly finished her scone and sipped at her cool chai.

  “Hello again,” the dark-skinned man said.

  Elise looked up, recognizing his voice and his vibrant smile. “Hi, Darien, right?”

  “Elise.” He said her name as if he savored a fine wine. “May I join you?”

  “Of course.”

  He pulled his long, heavy coat around him and perched on the bench next to her and waved at his companions as they continued on their way.

  “I’m glad to see you,” she said. “I wanted to thank you, again, for helping me the other day.”

  “You seem to have found your wallet.”

  “Yes. It’s cool now, but would you like a scone?” She offered him the uneaten one.

  Darien considered her for a moment before nodding. “I’ll split it with you.”

  Elise grinned as he took the other orange-frosted delicacy and broke it in half. He offered her the larger of the two pieces, and they ate in silence for a moment.

  “What brings you out this early?” Darien stared out over the lake, his expression blank.

  “Dreams.” She hugged her arms to herself. “There is something strange about the tower. It disturbed my sleep.”

  “It’s a portal,” he whispered, almost as if to himself. “Evil.”

  Wanting to question him, Elise hesitated. What did he mean? Did he mean literally, as they suspected, and if so, how did he know? Or was he talking about some of the local superstitions?

  Darien shook himself. “Forgive me. If you will permit, I have something for you.”

  “For me?” Elise frowned.

  “Your emerald eyes captivated me.” Darien grinned. “I found this and thought of you. It’s something my family turned up, so it wasn’t expensive.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant. It looked like a sea-green emerald mounted in a wire wrap. The piece tingled with energy.

  That wire wrap looked very familiar.

  “Where did you find it?” Elise pulled her hair aside, permitting Darien to fasten the silver chain around her neck.

  “I’m not sure. Truthfully, there’s a bit of a rift in my family right now. However, some small treasures they turn up become communal for any to take. I wanted to give this to you. So I, too, hoped we would meet again. However, I must catch up to my friends. It was a pleasure, Elise. Perhaps I’ll see you again before you leave.”

  Elise stood when Darien did and briefly clasped his hands. He gave her another beautiful smile before walking away.

  Grinning, Elise headed back toward the hotel. She wanted to tell Melanie about meeting Darien again, and she wanted to investigate the pendant.

  A familiar black-cloaked figure stopped her in her tracks, her heart hammering in her throat. She snapped up a shield, unsure what to expect, but the woman’s kid-gloved hands spread in a gesture of peace. Her hood obscured all but her cruel mouth, bowed in a tiny cat-smile. Elise could almost feel a single talon hooked in her clothing, holding her back from moving on, part prey’s fear and part morbid fascination. She hoped the evil woman hadn’t seen her talking to Darien.

  “I’m here to offer you a deal.” Valonna Macrow’s low, rich voice sounded nearly as chill as the frozen lake.

  “What would that be?” Elise inquired. Treating with Valonna would be tantamount to selling her soul to the devil, with, probably, less assurance of a decent outcome. Still, she thought it prudent to learn what the woman schemed.

  “The three of you can walk away alive,” Valonna said.

  “In exchange for what?” Elise asked.

  “Tell the fae girl to return to her former lover,” Valonna’s voice sounded amused.

  “She won’t.”

  “Then tell her to take her other offer.”

  “What?” Elise hated herself for asking, but she had to know whether Melanie was being duplicitous or not.

  “The singer she sat next to on the plane wants her,” Valonna said. “All she need do is accept his dinner invitation and he’ll be hers.”

  Elise’s eyes widened. Melanie had not mentioned this at all. “She said nothing of a dinner invitation.”

  Valonna chuckled. “You think she won’t have one, should she call him? The fae girl can charm a monk, should she choose to do so. He would make her career, and I suspect he’d content her. Imagine the music the two of them would make together. She would be happy once again, after the untimely death of her first lover.”

  Elise swallowed back a bitter taste. She could imagine that, actually. She’d overheard bits of their convivial conversation on the plane, and the two of them had hit it off brilliantly. The man’s music got more play than any other artist on Melanie’s iPhone. That’d break Marcus’ heart.

  “And?” She knew there was more.

  Valonna held out her hand for Elise.

  “Give this to Hagatha. Tell her to take it and then go see Marcus.”

  “What is it?”

  Beneath the cowl, Valonna’s mouth twitched only slightly. Elise could feel the magic even through her magicked glove: a disguise, a charm, sex…

  Her stomach boiled. “What are you going to do to the two of them?”

  “Nothing that would be worse than their deaths,” Valonna answered calmly.

  “You’re…”

  “Oh child,” Valonna chuckled. “At least consider it... Take these things to the two women. They’re entitled to know what they couldhave, rather than a cold, grave. It would be the honorable thing to offer them both their options. And you’ve enough honor of your own to do the proper thing.”

  Elise hissed, wanting to throw the charm back in the woman’s face. Instead, she tucked it into the pocket of her jacket as the woman faded into the cold mist, leaving only the jarring echoes of her taunting laughter behind.

  She let out a long gusty breath as she entered the hotel.

  Safe.

  For a moment, she considered dumping the handful of evil magic her mother had handed her in the trash. Her fingers closed on the despised things she’d shoved deep in her pocket, but her head shook in denial. What if an innocent got hold of Valonna’s workings? She’d need to destroy the items safely. That would take some serious shielding, and she might need the power for some other purpose, considering her encounter.

  Should I tell... She couldn’t even finish the question. Of course, she’d tell the others. She was Marcus Macrow’s daughter and Richard Winters’ as well. Neither man would make decisions about another person’s life without giving them a choice in the matter.

  She hastened upstairs to Melanie’s room. The fae girl was already up, and she would not have to waken her.

  A discreet knock and a few words to identify herself, and Melanie let her in. Her room was tidy—her bathroom had the few personal care items and cosmetics she’d re-purchased arranged neatly around the sink. The television was turned on with the music video channel playing quietly so as not to disturb anyone else.

  The massive king-size bed was still turned down. A half-full cup of tea sat on the nightstand. Half a dozen bracelets of fae metal lay atop the quilted coverlet. Melanie had received the original one from King Oberon while passing through the Ways.

  “What are you doing?” Elise asked.

  “King Oberon plucked a hair from his head to make the bracelet,” Melanie said, doing the same with a long strand of her own gleaming blue-black hair. “He worked some magic, and the thing appeared in his hand.” To illustrate, the bracelet appeared in her palm. “It’s very adaptable. I can change the bracelet to a sword or whatever...” Melanie held the bracelet and glowered at it, her dark blue eyes narrow with annoyance. “Oh yes!”

/>   Elise’s eyebrows rose as Melanie repeated the process and this time came up with a glowing saber. She grinned, moving the shining sword with practiced ease, then transformed it back to a bracelet.

  “What did you do differently?” Elise asked, surprised that Melanie would even try magic when her attempts had been so disastrous. But she realized she hadn’t wanted a bracelet. She wanted a portable weapon. Her throat tightened, and she nodded, understanding.

  “Obviously, I had not had enough tea.” Melanie grinned. “I changed intention. First, I thought that I wanted the bracelet King Oberon gave me. Then I realized this last time I wanted the faery equivalent of a multitool. And here it is. You get what you ask for.”

  Grinning, she bowed and tossed the bracelet to Elise.

  Elise reflexively caught the cool metal bracelet, then told it to become a sword. A saber with a purple blade extended from her hand. Her mouth spread in a grin.

  “You have no idea how much I have wanted one of these,” she said.

  “I’m Yoda and you’re Mace! Kind of fits, he was the most badass. I figured we might need them,” Melanie replied. “I’ll conjure one for Hagatha next.”

  Elise paused. “Do it, but keep it on your own wrist for a while, please.”

  “Very well,” Melanie said. She didn’t ask why, which Elise appreciated. Hagatha had been a mainstay and a friend for more than half her life. She didn’t even want to think that she could not trust her—let alone say those words. Something weird was going on with her cousin.

  For a moment, Elise stared at the fae girl. She had no idea where to begin or how.

  Melanie caught on, her eyes shifting to concern. “What happened now?”

  “I encountered my mother,” Elise said. “I was right. It seems a good bit of the trouble we’re encountering is due to her. She offered us a deal. Do as she wants and we all live.”

  Melanie quirked a raven brow at her.

  Elise laid out the terms for her.

  Melanie shook her head. “No. The truth is, I’m afraid to start a relationship after the last one, but I’m engaged to Marcus, and we either work our relationship out or we don’t. If it was simply a kind deed on his part to give me a decent option for training, I will remain faithful until I learn my craft so I do not dishonor him. As far as blackmailers, there’s no bloody assurance she could give me that if I capitulated, she wouldn’t come to me for something else whenever her whims dictate.”

  Elise nodded. It was the answer she’d hoped for, but she’d still held her breath waiting.

  Melanie picked up her phone and pressed a button. “Time to call Marcus and tell him what’s happening.”

  She frowned. “No answer.”

  She hit another button. “Hey, Tallon, you know where Marcus is?”

  A more serious frown. “If you hear, please tell him to get in touch with me.”

  She nodded. “Thanks for offering to help.”

  “Marcus got a call yesterday he wouldn’t tell anyone about and left in a hurry. Tallon has no idea where he went or why, and said he looked worried—and he offered to help, but Marcus declined.”

  Elise nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle on her chest. They were in over their heads, and she couldn’t find him to ask for help or even warn him of the potential danger.

  “I’m going to blood scry for him,” Elise said.

  Melanie switched her bracelet to a knife and passed it over.

  Elise pricked her finger with the needle-sharp blade and let a drop fall into a clean glass saucer. Then she took tap water and a bit of salt from a packet Hagatha must have taken from the breakfast buffet to make sea water. She said the incantation.

  Nothing. Something told her Marcus had done the same thing she’d done. She was blocked from finding him.

  “Let’s go talk to Hagatha,” Melanie said, throwing off her nightshirt and sliding into the sweater she’d worn the day before. “She needs to know what’s happening.”

  Elise’s stomach tightened. Hagatha did need to know, but in her current state, she couldn’t guarantee her cousin wouldn’t turn on both of them for Valonna’s deal.

  Melanie grabbed her bum roll and room key card.

  Elise nearly ran over the smaller girl before she realized Melanie had stopped in her tracks. Outside Hagatha’s room stood two huge, black-suited men, their smiles and laconic poses indicating they waited for someone inside.

  “Go!” Melanie pointed Elise in the other direction, but she herself hastened toward the Don’s goons.

  Despite her warning, she heard Elise’s footfalls on the carpeted hall behind her. Some part of her was relieved to have the level-headed woman on her side, but she feared they’d both be putting their heads in the noose.

  “Sorry,” the bigger of the two men stationed outside of Hagatha’s room said in a heavy Italian accent. He winked. “Your friend’s busy right now. She’s got an appointment with Giovanni Machiavelli.”

  “And we’re famiglia,” Melanie said, craning her neck to look up into the cold eyes of the man in the narrow, dimly-lit hallway and feeling the disconcerting sense that she might fall over trying. “We’re coming with her.”

  The man chuckled. “Suit yourselves, ladies. Don Giovanni might not be pleased.”

  Melanie’s heart beat double-four time. Don Giovanni probably wouldn’t be pleased. While they’d parted on amicable-enough terms, she’d certainly hoped to never see Don Giovanni or his son again.

  The door opened, and a half-dressed Hagatha appeared. A trickle of blood slid from the corner of her mouth, and her hair was more askew than usual, but her face was set and she walked tall. A man who made the two in the hallway look like midgets strode behind her, shutting the hotel door discreetly. Melanie’s eyes widened at the multiplicity of silvered scars lining his knuckles as he slid the key card into the door to secure the room.

  “This could get interesting,” the man said, giving Hagatha a not-so-subtle pinch on the bottom as she passed the two of them. She hissed and tried to get away from his grasp, which only made him chuckle.

  “One for each of us. I’ll take the little one.”

  Melanie’s knees nearly buckled, but she kept herself steady and glowered at the man. He just grinned. She readied the “petrify” spell just in case.

  At this hour, the halls would regularly be full of tourists heading for breakfast or for the slopes. But there wasn’t a soul in evidence. Even the door to the dining room was closed, and the television was loud enough to cover almost everything but a gunshot.

  Melanie exchanged a glance with the desk clerk. The man paled and swallowed. From his expression, she suspected most of the people who’d left the hotel under the Don’s escort never returned. Likely, the Mafia ruled the small town with an iron fist. Resistance was futile.

  The streets were similarly vacant, and windows that normally showed homey scenes to folks strolling the streets were closed, with nary a bit of light from the interiors visible.

  They piled into a black SUV with tinted windows. One of the goons bound their hands behind them, which made it difficult to ride comfortably. The driver proceeded to take them up a steep mountain road to a massive house that blended architecturally with the cold Alpine skyline. A gateman acknowledged the driver and they and pulled through the security wall onto the property.

  The foyer was filled with marble statues and paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum. Melanie recognized the art styles and wondered where they’d come from and whether the family had bought them legitimately.

  Their escort gestured them through a set of beautifully carved mahogany double doors.

  Don Giovanni Machiavelli’s private lair was nothing less than kingly. Fragrances of Cuban cigars and fine Scotch perfumed the air. The man himself sat behind a polished ebony desk that would serve as a dining room table in most houses.

  He was handsome, in the same way as the Alps, with waves of gleaming icy white hair, finely chiseled Romanesque features, and eyes of th
e darkest obsidian.

  The first time she’d seen that face, he’d held a gun on her as his men ordered her out of the car she was driving. He’d stared at her with those dark eyes, as deep and soul-less as gun barrels, and then made a gesture for the armed men who’d surrounded her to stand down. Melanie had tried to focus on the circle of men. They had been well-dressed in Armani and drove luxury cars. Didn’t look like the police.

  Dear God, were they the Mob? She had thought at the time. Aldo had joked about the Mafia before, but she’d had no idea he actually meant anything by it. Why?

  “Bring me the keys,” the old man had said.

  Melanie stared at the emblem on the key fob in her left hand, stained with her own drying blood, blinking repeatedly to bring it into focus. Aldo’s car, not her Mini. Her eyes widened and her hand shook as the realization struck her. She’d stolen Aldo’s car. She’d wobbled to the silver-haired man to hand over the keys.

  “I’m sorry,” she had said, her ears ringing and her voice sounding fuzzy and alien. “I thought I had my Mini.”

  That was the last thing she recalled. She’d awakened to sunlight streaming in a window with a silver-haired woman sitting by her bed knitting. No pain. She might have thought it was heaven save for the IV drip and blood bag hanging on poles beside her. Her face felt odd; when she reached a tentative hand out to touch it, she felt bandages, and the old woman chided her gently to lie still.

  The old man had come when he learned she was awake.

  “Why did you take Aldo’s car?”

  “I didn’t know I had…until the men stopped me.” She stared at the hand that’d held the Benz’s keys. “I don’t steal…”

  The old woman who’d been tending her spoke up. “Giovanni, she’s already been hurt enough. Aldo says she’s a good girl and she doesn’t lie.”

  Melanie’s mind jerked back to the present. “Don Giovanni,” she bowed her head in acknowledgement. The man himself had no weapons in sight, but two men stood on either side of him with their guns out and aimed in her direction.

  “You know, the only reason I didn’t kill you the first time we met was because you looked half-dead already and you still managed to keep your head up,” he said. “And the Dona, God rest her, loved you.”