“How will they follow if they know they are to return to the past?” Sarah said.
“They’re not going to follow you to Salem to be sent back,” Morgan said. “They’re going to follow you to kill you.” She raised her glass and smiled happily. “Now, let’s enjoy the rest of our meal, perhaps a few more cocktails, and then go up to our suite and get a good night’s sleep.”
Hazel offered Raven a half-hearted smile of reassurance, but it was Sarah who had all of her attention at the moment. Although Sarah said nothing more, Hazel saw the distress in her eyes, uncertain if she’d been shaken more by the part about being killed or being sent back. Although she hadn’t had time to adjust to life in this century, she clearly found it preferable to the life from which she and Ayotunde had both escaped. Hazel was beginning to know too well the profound ache of falling in love with someone she couldn’t have. Sarah and Ayotunde were experiencing freedom unlike any Puritan had ever known. She couldn’t imagine the agony they’d have to live with going back to such oppression and despair.
That was if they would even survive until the trials ended.
Chapter Eighteen
In the green room outside the radio broadcast studio in downtown Roanoke, Lucien stared out the window at the distant glow emanating from the colossal Mill Mountain Star across town. This live podcast with Tammi Lee Sanderson was to be the culmination of all their painstaking planning to amass and install nationalist cells in major cities all across America. To his surprise, it hadn’t been that difficult to accomplish. There was no shortage of angry, disillusioned, working-class people sick of liberal politicians insidiously infusing their socialist agenda into their government. The long-standing lax immigration policies, endless stream of welfare for the lazy, and regulations against American businesses had been a detriment to the economy and burdened hardworking Americans. Not to mention the flagrant ways these politicians catered to the gays.
He paced between Tammi, who was scribbling on a legal pad full of talking points for the podcast, and Dirk, seated next to Tammi, who was typing away on his phone.
“Twenty minutes,” Lucien said, but mentally, he was still locked in his own head. Soon the social strife they’d been agitating for over the last decade would replenish Blaise’s power, and Lucien would ascend to second in command of the dark realm.
Dirk finally rested his phone in his lap with a satisfied smile. “There. I’ve just blasted the Twitterverse with a dozen tweets and retweets about how the house speaker is about to give free Medicare to everyone and how the middle class will lose their private health benefits.” He tilted his head back with a hearty laugh.
Still engrossed in her own matters, Tammi spoke without looking up. “We’re leading with the correlation between corporate pollution regulation under Obama and the decline in job growth. Then we’ll segue right into immigrant workers undermining the wages of skilled American workers. Dirk, you have the random callers lined up, right?”
“Yep. I got a redneck from Birmingham who’s eager to gripe about his assembly-line job going to Mexico and the CEO of American Oil and Refinery Corp explaining how they’ve had to downsize their workforce because of the liberal panic about fossil fuel and the clean energy industry’s pervasive bribes of senators.”
Lucien basked in the pride of his son’s impressive showing. “Well done. You both may have secured yourselves a spot in Blaise’s ranks with tonight’s event.”
Tammi tossed her legal pad aside and got off the couch. “By this time tomorrow, the cells will have incited the multi-city riots and bombings, and then the fake socialist terror groups will claim responsibility.”
Lucien dropped some ice cubes into a cup and poured from a silver flask. “Blaise will be so pleased with me,” he said softly, already imagining the spoils he’d receive for his loyal efforts and demonstration of leadership.
“This is gonna really shake things up,” Dirk said. “I’ll be the most sought-after lobbyist in history. My firm will command the highest prices ever paid.”
“Hmm,” Lucien said. “This is the beginning of very big things to come for all of us.”
“What is Blaise’s actual plan once he’s reached full potency?” Tammi asked.
Lucien wheeled around and regarded her as if she was simple. “To run for President of the United States, of course. What better way to destroy the fabric of global civilization than by installing the master of evil in the world’s most influential position of power?”
“But it’s only an eight-year term,” she said.
Lucien laughed. “You really think the master of the entire realm of evil can’t find a loophole if he wanted to? He’s already laid the groundwork to get the Twenty-Second Amendment struck down through that nitwit he directed us to install in office in the interim. In only two years, we’ve managed to flip the Supreme Court over to a conservative majority.” His face contorted with apparent resentment. “It still irks me that the Russians are getting the credit for helping destroy the democracy, but someday, history will portray the true story.”
“And you’re sure that shadowhunter isn’t going to interfere with our plans again?” Dirk said.
Lucien shook his head. “Let her try. I have double the security staff ready to sniff her out if she comes anywhere near the building. If she is fool enough, they’ll finish the job they started at the arena. Even Raven Dare isn’t so mighty that she can fight off a legion of hellhounds. She and those two misfit witches got lucky that first time because I only had a few guards posted. This night, they are completely out of their league.”
“Look at this.” Tammi waved them over to the window. “There’s already a riot outside, and we haven’t even gone on yet.” She smiled maniacally. “Our supporters are clashing with the protesters. That crowd out there is huge.”
Lucien looked down and grinned at the sea of hand-decorated signs flowing into the street and stopping traffic as squad cars pulled up around them. “Can this night get any better? You need to open the show with this blatant attempt to suppress the free speech of our conservative following happening in real time right outside the studio.”
Tammi smiled and flipped her blond hair back. “It’s time.”
* * *
The rioting crowd in the front of the building created a sweet, unexpected diversion. With so much commotion happening out front, nobody would be at all concerned with what might occur in the back. Raven watched the hulking security guard dressed in black slacks and blazer scan the sidewalk outside the employee entrance before going inside and closing the door. He wasn’t dressed in the typical building security uniform with badge and walkie-talkie. He was clearly part of a private team, Lucien’s team, and probably salivating at the opportunity to morph into his true form, a hellhound, at the first sign of trouble. She would have preferred the scent of a demon at this point. Demons were easier to control and to kill. Hellhounds were damn near impossible if they had the opportunity to shed their human form. It didn’t matter now. They could only play the cards they were dealt.
Raven turned around to Ayotunde. “You ready?”
“Aye.” Ayotunde’s voice was rich with conviction, but her wide eyes and twitchy movements indicated otherwise.
“Hang on.” Morgan whirled Ayotunde toward her by the shoulders and, after waving her hands in a flourish, Ayotunde’s scoop-neck shirt was lower and tighter and her breasts much larger.
Raven glared at Morgan. “Really?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s archaic, misogynistic, and offensive. But it’s the way women have been bewitching men since the dawn of time.”
“Yeah,” Raven said. “Women who can’t literally bewitch them.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” Morgan said. “Can we debate feminist philosophy later? We have to get in there.”
Raven tried not to smile as Sarah’s eyes fixated on Ayotunde’s impressive new rack. “Sarah? You with us?”
“Aye,” Sarah said with a start.
“How are we gonna get that
guy to open the door for Ayotunde?” Hazel said.
“We’re not,” Morgan said. “You are, with a sudden gust of wind that’ll blow the door wide open.”
Hazel grinned. “I can do that.”
As she was about to wind up her arm, Raven grabbed it and held it. “Cool your jets for a sec. Ayotunde, as soon as he comes to the door, run up to him like you need his help. And can you talk like a modern American to minimize suspicion?”
“Aye. Oh, I mean yes,” she said.
“Here.” Raven handed her a cell phone. “Tell him your car broke down, and your phone has no service. Then compel him to…I don’t know, to do whatever will give all of us the chance to slip past him and get into the studio.”
“I got this,” Ayotunde said with a thumbs-up.
Hazel looked at Raven with a naughty grin. “You can let go of my hand now. I have to…you know.”
“Oh, right, yeah,” Raven said. When she looked away in embarrassment, she inadvertently caught a glimpse of Morgan, who did not appear pleased at the magnetism between Hazel and her.
Hazel seemed to study the door for a moment, then swirled her arm around, creating only a gust of wind strong enough to knock over a garbage can.
“Put a little more pepper on it,” Morgan said with a nod of encouragement.
“I’m sorry,” Hazel said, her mouth a half-moon of disappointment. “I guess I need more practice.”
“There’s no more practice, mon cheri,” Morgan said sweetly. She then shouted, “Now blow that fucking door open.”
Hazel recoiled from Morgan’s menacing face and conjured a roaring wind that swept through the alley and blew the heavy door open.
When the security guard appeared and looked out, Ayotunde approached him, acting as if she was frazzled. “Excuse me, mister. Can you help me? My car has no service, and my phone broke down.”
“Your what?” His face contorted in confusion, then he slumped down on the doorsill, fast asleep.
Raven and the others ran toward the door and had to step over his bulky body to get inside the building. “A for effort,” Raven said to Ayotunde. She tried to move him by shutting the door, giving his head several whacks but to no avail. “Sarah?”
“Aye,” Sarah said. She raised her hand and levitated him into the alley, letting him drop hard on the pavement.
“Good thing he has nothing in his head, or that would’ve been messy.” Raven locked the door behind her, and all five of them headed down the hall toward the recording studio.
As they got closer, Raven felt as if her skin was on fire. She could smell and taste the presence of the hellhounds. Her side still burning from the pain of her last encounter with one, she hoped following Morgan into the abyss wouldn’t result in a brutal and bloody ending for all of them.
Upon reaching the studio, Raven felt the toxic energy the party of hellhounds generated as they closed in on them. The adrenaline heated her veins as the years of training moved to her limbs, preparing to prove their worth.
Raven glanced at Hazel, who looked back with worry shadowing her eyes. She grabbed her without thinking and kissed her deeply, breathlessly. Hazel’s fingers caressed Raven’s face in what felt like a fevered effort to memorize as much as she could. Raven was aware that their kiss could only last a few seconds, but she was determined to make those few seconds resonate with her for the rest of her life. She wanted Hazel to know that despite all of the misspoken words, unclear intentions, and confusing dynamics, she was with her. When Hazel backed away and searched Raven’s eyes, Raven hoped she saw what she’d intended her to see. She wouldn’t get the chance to ask as eight large men turned the corner. She pushed Hazel toward the studio and pulled out her blades.
Raven braced herself for a fight unlike any she’d ever found herself in. The hellhounds were shedding their form in front of her eyes. Human skin stretched and shredded into animal skin. Hair exploded over the expanding bodies. Hands cracked and popped, transitioning into paws with claws that could tear her heart from her chest if the hounds were to outmaneuver them.
Raven looked at Morgan, who was forcing her hands together, a ball of white light expanding between them. She’d never seen anything like it before and was overwhelmed with a sense of astonishment and visceral fear. Morgan’s eyes glowed blinding white as she levitated off the ground.
The first and either bravest or dumbest hellhound rushed toward them, followed in V-formation by his fellow hunters. Two went in the direction of Morgan while the other came for Raven. His coarse fur scratched her cheek, and she choked on his hot, foul breath as the hound attempted to devour her face. This time she was ready for the attack. She lifted her blades to both sides of his neck and held them in a crisscross fashion. Blood splattered her face, leaving her lips coated in copper-tasting liquid and her skin smelling like sulfur. The body fell to the ground and turned to ash.
Morgan had the other two hounds caught in an orb of white light. She was pushing, crushing the orb until it was nothing more than a marble in her hand. She let it fall through her fingers to the ground, and Raven watched in amazement as the small gem bounced off the walls and disappeared down the hallway.
A wave of relief washed through her. She allowed herself to believe that perhaps they would make it out of this alive, and better yet, in one piece. However, that sensation was short-lived as her knees buckled, and the air pushed out of her chest as if she was a deflating balloon. She looked down the hall to the burning red orbs hiding behind a black cloak.
“Blaise,” Morgan said, sounding unimpressed.
As Blaise rushed Morgan, he roared with thunderous fury. Raven bent over and covered her ears against the pain riveting her brain. This was nothing like she’d ever experienced.
Morgan stopped him about two feet away, her hands up, and white light illuminating their proximity. She laughed and pushed him back farther. “Oh, Blaise, please tell me you had something better than this planned? Did you seriously spend the last several hundred years plotting your revenge just to rush me like some third-grader on the playground?”
Blaise struggled, and as he did, the grip on Raven lessened. “When I reach my full capacity, I will destroy you.”
Morgan moved her hands downward, forcing him to his knees. “If I’d known you were so obsessed with me, we could’ve dated. You know how I love to be adored.”
Five hellhounds seemed to radiate fury behind Blaise. She assumed they were waiting for the go-ahead to charge at Morgan and Raven. The stench of their hatred hung in the air like fog swallowing an entire city. Raven hoped they were all that remained for this battle.
Blaise shot Morgan an eerie smile and one of the hounds rushed and pounced on top of Raven. It snarled and growled, and spit like hot wax dripped onto her cheek. Raven struggled, but in her compromised state, she couldn’t fight back as the hound wrapped its enormous teeth around her neck and held her there.
Blaise laughed, and the room shook with the energy. “Let me go, and I’ll have the hound release your pet.”
Anger flashed on Morgan’s face as she looked between Raven and Blaise. “Do you honestly think I’d let you go free for a shadowhunter? There is nothing stopping me from annihilating you right now.”
The white light allowed for glimpses of Blaise’s scorched face. She wondered if perhaps Blaise had been the inspiration behind Freddy Krueger. His skin was twisted and raw. “That’s the difference between you and me, Morgan; dark magic doesn’t tie me to ridiculous notions like love and loyalty. They will be your downfall.”
The hound bit down, and Raven’s vision became clouded with spots. As she faded out of consciousness, she heard a loud pop. Her vision went black, and before she yielded to her fate, she hoped Hazel had been more successful and that she would forgive her for failing.
* * *
The door shut behind them, and Hazel resisted the urge to go back into the large hallway when she heard the first ominous howl of the infamous hellhounds just beyond the door. Lucien, Tammi, and
Dirk stood looking dumbfounded by their arrival.
When Lucien reached for something tucked into his waistband, Hazel shook her head. “Don’t do that.”
He continued his movement, and Sarah pointed in his direction. He winced as his wrist rolled over, pinning him to the desk.
Lucien croaked out words through the pain. “Sarah Hutchinson, you little bitch. I knew you were a witch.”
Hazel laughed and put her hands on her hips. “That’s a little too on the nose for you, isn’t it, dark witch?”
Dirk rushed toward them from around the side of the desk, but Ayotunde stepped into his path. She raised her hand and spread her fingers in front of his face. He smiled like a child, started giggling like one, and sat on the floor, appearing to play with imaginary blocks.
Hazel looked at Tammi. “You wanna take your turn now, or do you want to listen?”
Tammi looked between the two men for a second and then decided to take a seat.
Hazel’s fingertips shuddered with a surge of energy. She glanced back at the door, hearing Morgan and the sounds of growling intensify. She wanted to go and check on Raven, but Sarah put a hand on her shoulder, redirecting her attention to the people in front of them.
Hazel mustered up her most intimidating voice. “You three don’t belong here.”
Lucien pointed at Ayotunde and Sarah. “You’re not exactly coming from a place devoid of hypocrisy. You think I don’t know who these two women are? You should be ashamed of yourself, spending time with a slave and a dishonored woman.”
When Hazel felt Sarah stiffen, the pang of defensiveness overtook her. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Lucien. You followed Sarah here from 1692, but you manifested yourself a decade earlier, when America was finally on the verge of positive change. But Blaise wasn’t going to allow that change to hold. He knew an angry ne’er-do-well like you would never be capable of making a life for yourself here, so he sought you out, offering you false promises of protection and absolute power. And stupid you thought you’d get all of it without having to pay a price? The only dishonor in this room oozes from the pores of you three.”
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