“And this time she added in a couple extra favors to the deal. Maybe if she intends to partner up with Holmgang, she promised Perchta a steady supply of hunters, from more than the Rod and Gun Club families.”
“Might be why he was culling his team,” Teag said. “Those dead men who fell from the sky. Free agents, so to speak.”
“And the zombies and angry ghosts were unintended consequences?” Mrs. Teller questioned.
“Or diversions,” I speculated. “Pretty damn good ones, if you ask me. Kept us busy elsewhere while Carmen got everything set into motion.”
“So we find Carmen and then what?” Mrs. Teller asked.
“Do I get a vote?” Donnelly asked. “Because I suggest turning both Carmen and Holmgang over to the Hunt, and then banishing their asses.”
“Can you do that? Banish the Wild Hunt?” Anthony asked.
Secona’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “Probably not. But we might be able to convince Perchta to take them as his tribute and consider this cycle complete.”
I glanced at the scrying chalice. “Can you find her? Because I sense she’s got something else planned.”
Secona drew the goblet closer. I could see that red wine, and not blood, filled it almost to the lip. “I’ve searched before. Something—perhaps Holmgang—is blocking me. But I will search again.”
I laid a hand on her arm. “How long can you remain present without hurting Alicia? Because while I’m glad for your help, Alicia’s our friend, and we want her back.”
Secona’s expression changed and became completely Alicia. “I’m all right, Cassidy. Thanks for worrying, but Secona and I…have an understanding. I’m okay.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, as something undefinable shifted, and Alicia became Secona once more.
“I keep my word,” Secona replied. Donnelly poured himself another bourbon as Secona readied for the scrying. The rest of us drew back to give her space while staying close enough to watch.
Her fingers traced runes in the air over the cup, and I could have sworn that the shapes burned like fire for an instant before vanishing. As Secona chanted, I thought of the vision I’d seen of Holmgang in his raven mask by the bonfire and realized that these two ancient sorcerers provided a glimpse of a world that had been gone for nearly a millennia.
The surface of the wine shimmered, but although I strained to look, I saw nothing but the red depths. Secona stared at the cup’s contents, entranced by a vision the rest of us could not share.
“I see a large home, old and grand.” Secona’s voice was languid in her trance. “This woman, Carmen, has gone to the home. I see lights and people. A party? Then darkness. Dark magic. A skull and a post. Cursed.” Her voice became more agitated as the vision went on. “Niding horse. Sacrifice. Kill them all. Kill them all. Kill them all—”
Teag and Mrs. Teller acted together, each clutching a swatch of spell-woven cloth, and reached out to grip Secona by her shoulders. Abruptly, the seer gasped and jerked awake. She pulled back, blinking rapidly, as she struggled to break free of the vision. I moved the chalice away to keep it from spilling and felt a frisson of lingering power through my skin.
“Tonight,” Secona said when she had returned to herself enough to speak. “There’s a big event at an old mansion, and Carmen means to summon the Hunt to take everyone there. It will seal her bargain with Perchta, their souls for whatever she and Holmgang wanted in return. Whatever their plan, it won’t be good for the rest of us.”
“What’s a niding horse?” Anthony asked, sliding closer to Teag and slipping an arm around his waist, but whether he meant to give or receive support, I couldn’t tell. Maybe a little of both.
“An old and powerful curse.” We looked up to see Sorren in the doorway, and only then did I realize that night had fallen. “A horse head—or skull—on a rune-scribed post sets the curse, and it can only be lifted with a challenge. The curse is potent and dangerous.”
“You’ve been through this before, after Alard passed,” I said.
Sorren nodded and looked to Secona. “Where is the niding horse?”
“At the Nicholson mansion. The curse makes this all more difficult,” she replied.
“What does the curse do?” Teag looked from Sorren to Secona for answers.
“It’s a binding spell, and a summoning,” Secona replied. “I suspect that Carmen—and Holmgang—couldn’t use it against us here or at the store because of your wardings.” She smiled at Sorren. “You’ve learned well.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I try not to make the same mistake twice.”
Obviously an entire silent history lay bound up in those few words, but it made sense now why Sorren had been adamant that we hole up at my house. Lucinda and Rowan were working on stronger wards for Teag and Anthony’s house, but magic can’t be rushed and wardings take time to sink in and permeate. So for now, we were safer here.
“What does it summon?” Anthony looked worried, and I couldn’t blame him. Out of all of us, he was the one with no magic, the one who would be left behind to worry when we all went off to battle.
“Land sprites,” Secona replied. Anthony looked like he might laugh, but something in Secona’s expression sobered him. “They’re nasty little things. Vicious, and fast. Normally sprites aren’t harmful, but Holmgang catches them and…abuses and twists them. They’re difficult to banish.” She glanced over to Sorren and met his gaze. “I’ve learned a thing or two since the last time, also. But we’ll need more people to do what needs to be done.”
“I’ve already put out the call,” Sorren replied.
Carmen and Holmgang, bitter and angry and scary powerful in their magic, backed up by the primal power of the Wild Hunt and eager for revenge, were going to make their big move tonight. No one would be safe, and both Teag and Mrs. Teller would be at the top of Carmen’s list to win over or destroy. “Then we need a plan,” I replied. “Because it’s time we went hunting.”
Chapter Seventeen
The Nicholson mansion sat dark and silent. Teag confirmed that the Rod and Gun Club did indeed have a gala that night at the old estate, but no lights blazed from the windows, and nothing but silence met our approach. It looked like the power was out. I glimpsed what might have been candlelight flickering at a few windows, and imagined a frightened group of partygoers huddled next to decorative lamps and lanterns pressed into emergency service.
Tumultuous energy roiled from the surrounding land, thick and filthy like a sewage spill. I closed my hand around my agate necklace to keep from being tainted, but it felt like walking through existential muck. If this was the psychic field that accompanied Holmgang, then he was loathsome as well as dangerous.
“Mrs. Morrissey confirmed the event attendance at twenty-five,” Anthony’s voice came over the earpiece. Kell had shown up along with Father Anne, Chuck Pettis, Lucinda, and Niella Teller, ready to do whatever he could to help. As the “civilians” in the group, Kell and Anthony stayed at my house—under protest—until Sorren pointed out that they could be used as hostages against Teag and me. That ended the argument, and they took over the command center. Several of us wore earpieces, and Kell gave me some remote sensors and small action cams that would help him monitor the situation via his laptop so he and Anthony could relay information and find any details we might require.
“So we’ve got twenty-five people trapped in the house, surrounded by land sprites,” Chuck echoed. “Can the sprites get inside?”
“No idea,” Sorren replied. “When we faced the sprites before, it was at our store in Antwerp. They couldn’t get through the wardings.”
“I think we’d hear a lot more screaming if they could get into the house,” I said. “Maybe the whole point is to hold them hostage?” I frowned as I remembered how Carmen had drained the magical items at the Museum and the Archive and used the cursed cloth in the storm tunnels to create discord. “Or could Carmen use their fear to power her magic?”
“Maybe,”
Mrs. Teller replied, staring at the house as she thought. “If she got into the house ahead of time and left cloth inside that she’d spelled to tune in on emotions, she might have worked out a kind of relay.”
“We can’t get rid of the sprites until the challenge is fought, right?” Father Anne asked, hands on her hips as she surveyed the manor’s grounds like a general. Our vantage point kept us well beyond where the sprites had gathered, but with a good view of the estate. “But nothing says we can’t distract them.”
Despite the clerical collar around her throat, she gave us a wicked grin. “If Chuck and I come up with a way to distract the sprites and get the guests out safely, then Carmen loses her ‘battery back-up.’”
“Don’t underestimate the sprites,” Sorren warned. “They’re not like in the children’s stories.”
Father Anne gave the mansion an appraising look. “There’s a boxwood hedge all around the house except for the doorways, and an iron fence as well. The doors have iron hinges and decoration. That might be keeping the sprites out. Chuck and I can create a corridor to get the guests out to the cars, if we put some of the natural protections to good use.”
She turned to Secona. “Any idea what the range is for that niding horse?”
Secona gave a wan smile. “I don’t know that it’s been measured, exactly. But old curses are particular. It affects what the skull of the horse points at, which is the house. No way to know if it includes the most recent Nicholson or the members of the club. They might not be able to leave, no matter what you do. But you might get other guests to safety.”
Father Anne turned to assess the ornate grounds, and I had no doubt that she searched for anything usable as a weapon. She glanced at Rowan. “Could you strip that boxwood hedge behind us and drop the leaves on the driveway?”
Rowan grinned. “That’s easy.”
Chuck withdrew a grenade launcher from his pack. “You bring the leaves; I’ve got the iron filings.”
Father Anne raised an eyebrow. “A grenade launcher?”
Chuck shrugged. “Got the idea from a friend in Pennsylvania. It’ll work.”
Father Anne nodded. “All right. We’ve got this.”
Donnelly and Lucinda were our best bets against the Wild Hunt. That meant the rest of us—me, Teag, Sorren, Secona, Rowan, Mrs. Teller, and Niella—needed to keep Carmen and Holmgang busy and destroy them if we could.
I used night vision goggles to watch Chuck and Father Anne make their way down the slope toward the mansion, staying wide of the strange shadow that marked the territory claimed by the land sprites.
Rowan called to the wind, and it answered her magic, racing through the high boxwood hedge behind us, and sweeping over our heads, carrying with it a dark green tide. I saw Chuck take aim at the horse skull on its carved post, heard the ping of rock against bone, and saw the head turn so that its nose pointed toward a stacked stone shed in the opposite direction of the driveway.
The shadow that followed the sprites shifted, swarming over the shed. As soon as the darkness massed around the small structure, Chuck lobbed something, and an instant later the shed erupted in flames and a spray of dust.
Seconds later, we heard the blast of a grenade launcher. Chuck and Father Anne ran toward the driveway, and in the distance, we heard them shouting to the hostages inside the mansion, then the roar of engines.
“There goes Step One,” I said.
I turned away from the mansion and scanned the lawns for two figures, Donnelly and Lucinda. We didn’t know where the Wild Hunt would manifest, but a necromancer and a Voudon mambo were our best chance of holding it at bay.
Now for Carmen.
Spoiling her surprise with the niding horse flushed her out from her bolt hole. Carmen rose from her hiding place amid the topiary, shrieking spells at the top of her lungs. I didn’t need Weaver magic to know that the clothing she wore was redolent with power. My gift picked up a jumble of disquieting visions from the land beneath my feet: the discontent and acquisitiveness of the Nicholsons, the shadow of the long-ago bargain with Perchta, the jagged edge of Carmen’s madness, and the fear that permeated and poisoned the land ever since the curse claimed the family bloodline.
Rowan struck first, raising her hands with fingers splayed wide. Sparks crackled around her, making her hair rise with static electricity, as lightning arced from her palms. Her power touched down all around Carmen, a warning for the other witch to stand down. Carmen laughed as the fiery blasts burned the grass and kicked up dirt, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
Mrs. Teller and Niella had already laid out long braids of spelled rope that bought us a temporary haven, but I knew it wouldn’t last for long. Sorren slipped through the darkness, using his vampire speed and stealth to circle around, looking for a weak point. All of us wore extra charms and protective amulets drawn from a variety of traditions and beliefs. Secona/Teag, Rowan, Father Anne, and both of the Tellers had been up late into the night blessing the talismans we already owned and making some special protections of their own design. Considering the foe we battled, even Sorren consented to protections.
I let my athame fall into my right hand, and jangled Bo’s collar on my left. His ghost appeared beside me, and he fixed immediately on Carmen, giving a low growl. I had Alard’s walking stick holstered in my belt, and I drew it, taking comfort from its heft and age, and the weight of the centuries of memories it held. My weapons felt woefully inadequate, but they would have to do.
The most significant change was that Alicia stayed back at my house to recover, with our assurances that she had gone above and beyond the call of duty. Now, Secona’s spirit possessed Teag, simultaneously augmenting their combined power and frustrating Holmgang’s desire for an easily snatched victim.
Secona held the Galdrastafur, the Viking wand Rowan had “borrowed” from the mansion. None of us knew for sure what power it held, but channeling Secona’s substantial magic made it our most likely weapon of massive destruction.
Carmen reached out amid the lightning strikes and plucked the bolts of power from the air, hurling them back at us like the god of thunder. Mrs. Teller threw a weighted silver net into the air, and its glowing strands trapped the arcing power as if they were shining birds, bearing them harmlessly to the ground.
Carmen strode toward us, and her flowing garments shimmered with energy. Threads laced through the cloth, glowing like embers in sigil patterns and Norse runes. She threw back her head and laughed, drunk with magic, mad with vengeance, and sure of her victory.
Secona and Niella chanted, their voices rising above the din. They wove threads between their fingers, then as I watched, the fine webs glowed bright and turned to ash. Each time, Carmen stumbled as if invisible fetters tugged at her, hobbling her ankles or dragging her backward.
Carmen screamed in fury and jerked to break free from the magical bonds, but Secona and Niella kept up their attack, slowing her approach. Overhead, clouds parted across the moon, and on the hilltop by the stables, I saw a tree hung with the bodies of large, dark birds, a blood sacrifice like in Teag’s visions.
I shook off my fear and closed my fingers around the ancient spindle whorl that grounded me with echoes of Secona’s magic. Pulling on that power, I leveled my athame and sent a blast of cold white force at Carmen, driving her back and interrupting her chant. She turned her attention to me and made a weaving gesture with her fingers, cutting off my air as if she tightened a rope around my neck.
Bo’s ghost bounded toward her, snapping and snarling, and he leaped for her throat, forcing her to refocus her attention and shift the target of her magic. Bo’s teeth sank deep into one arm, and she shook free, tearing him loose at the cost of a bloody gash. Bo landed on all fours so hard his claws dug into the ground, and then he sprang at her again, diving onto her from behind and knocking Carmen off balance. The attack broke her concentration, and I could breathe again.
Gasping, I loosed a stream of fire from the silver tip of Alard’s cane. Carmen
threw her hands up, holding a swath of fabric that glowed with runes, deflecting the fire.
“This is none of your business!” Carmen screamed. “It’s a family matter. You have no right to be here.”
“It stopped being a family matter when you brought the rest of the city—and the old families—into your vendetta,” Secona replied in Teag’s voice. “Do you really think you can command the Wild Hunt? Whatever Holmgang promised you, know this. He lies.”
Carmen’s laughter sent a chill through me. “Holmgang’s spirit came to me. He chose me to be the instrument of his vengeance. And he would be my champion.”
That’s it. Keep her monologuing.
“You think Holmgang cares for your family squabble?” Secona countered. “What does he need from you, once he has a vessel and commands the Wild Hunt? You think that Vincente’s death means anything to him? He’s using you.”
Somewhere in the darkness, I knew Sorren closed in on Carmen, waiting for an opportunity. Niella and Mrs. Teller had stepped back into the shadows, forgotten by Carmen as she vented her fury on Secona.
“They cast me out. Turned their backs on us when we needed the most,” Carmen raged. “Diego was a much better man than my father ever was, and they let him die.”
“So you want to call down the Hunt and Holmgang on the whole world to avenge him?” Secona challenged. “Is that what a good man would want? What Diego would want?”
“Diego wanted to live!” Carmen roared. “They stole that from him. And I swore I’d make them pay.”
Movement closer to the mansion caught my attention. I saw Father Anne battling the land sprites that had survived the blast and figured she was putting her blessed boline knife to good use. Chuck’s shotgun unloaded blast after blast of shells filled with iron pellets, helping them drive the land sprites back to keep them pinned close to the mansion and away from us.
Mrs. Teller and Niella kept up the invisible Woven fetters, making Carmen fight to free her arms and legs. I sent a blast of cold force against her, and Carmen stumbled backward, nearly falling into Sorren’s arms as he closed the distance and threw a spelled blanket over her, one that Mrs. Teller assured could nullify magic—at least for a little while.
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