by T. M. Hart
“Fine, fine,” came my mother’s begrudging agreement. “But, Violet, please be safe. And don’t wait so long to call and check in.”
“Okay! I will call you back. I need to ask you some things. Bye!”
I felt awful ending the call so abruptly, but I couldn’t imagine what the Crone and Maxim were doing in my quarters.
I didn’t wait to find out. I tucked the dagger into the waistband at my lower back. And as soon as I entered the room, Maxim gave a formal bow.
“Good evening, Violet,” he greeted.
“Hi, Maxim. What are you doing here?”
“Your request to visit the Shadow Court has been granted. I am to take you directly.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
The Crone had been silently standing in the corner, unmoving. Just then, though, I saw her make a motion. It was almost imperceptible, but I saw her cowl move a fraction of an inch to the side. And I knew she was telling me not to go.
If she had followed through with it, the Crone had placed those stones around the manor to bar entry from The Contessa. And if it was to be believed, I was apparently safe from The Contessa and her Umbra, here in the manor. I wondered if The Contessa knew about it and if it was why I was being summoned to court. I also wondered how much—if any—Maxim knew about the situation.
“I can’t,” I said. And to emphasize my point, I flopped down on the settee. I gestured to the wingback chair, but Maxim remained standing. He looked confused.
“But you were quite upset about being denied an invitation before,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but,” I rubbed my forehead, “I haven’t seen the sun in too long and am becoming ill. It will have to wait.”
I thought that would be the end of it, but then I realized there was an opening here. I had a chance to make progress of some kind. I couldn’t pass it up. I would be going into the situation blind, but maybe there was something to be gained. And I had my mother to thank for the inspiration.
I straightened. “However, Maxim, I would like to extend an invitation to the Court members for a dinner party here. This Saturday.”
“I’m sorry. What?” Maxim was thrown.
The Crone also seemed ruffled, shifting in her corner. However, I pretended not to notice.
“Yes,” I confirmed, standing. The idea began to take shape in my mind. I knew I couldn’t leave the manor. And a counter offer would help distract from the fact that I was blatantly rejecting the summons to Court. This could turn out to be a key step in overthrowing The Contessa.
I had no idea how involved she was with those at Court. All I knew was that she claimed to have absolute power there. Whether the other members of Court knew of her influence or would agree with her claim, I didn’t know.
What I did know was that if there was any chance to drive The Contessa out and help find a peaceful resolution to the revolt that was brewing, I would need to convince those of the Court to accept me as their new monarch.
“Yes,” I repeated. “I understand that the Shadow Court was moved to London long ago. But the Dark Manor was the original seat of the king, was it not? It is where the current prince and his new bride reside. It is a place of high honor and prestige. It should be treated as such. And in my attempt to demonstrate the respect I wish to show, I find it quite appropriate to host a dinner party here to honor my new prince, his Court, and his people.”
I nodded then, deciding that the reasoning sounded good to me. I believed it should pass as an acceptable explanation for my invitation. And I hoped Maxim did a proper job in passing on the highfalutin sentiment.
“I will, of course,” I continued, “need you to find the appropriate individuals to handle the preparation of both the manor as well as the food and service. I would think that should be a reasonable enough request for the Court to approve.”
“Violet, I—”
“I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it is to act as my babysitter, Maxim.” I said as I crossed to him. I took both his hands in my own and gave him my warmest, most trusting smile. “And I am ever so sorry to put you in the middle of all this. But there is really no need for us to have a discussion about it.”
I squeezed his hands in mine. “Will you do this for me, please?”
Something I had learned through my years at Court is that it is more difficult for someone to say no to you when you’re touching them. And as I hoped, Maxim face contorted into an expression of defeated acceptance.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “But Violet, please do not be surprised if your invitation is not acknowledged.”
I nodded. “I won’t,” I reassured.
“It is also very possible,” Maxim continued, “that they will be unhappy at your refusal this night. I may be sent again tomorrow night to bring you to Court with a more forceful insistence.”
“I understand,” I told him. But I had a strong suspicion my invitation would be accepted. The Dark Manor held too much intrigue.
“I’ll expect the first level of the manor to be sparkling and an exquisite menu for the evening.” I told him as I crossed to open the door to the suite. I gestured for him to exit with a warm smile. “Thank you ever so much, Maxim. I do appreciate it.”
He didn’t look happy with the direction I had taken things, but he also didn’t try and argue. He gave another formal bow and began to leave.
“Oh, Maxim,” I called, realizing I had forgotten an important detail. “I’ll need a dress too. Thanks!” And I shut the door before he could respond.
When I turned back into the room, the Crone was already shuffling towards me. I could sense her agitation, but she said nothing. She simply opened the door and hobbled out.
◆◆◆
Two nights later, I was getting what I asked for.
Maxim had arrived the previous night to inform me that my invitation had been accepted. He also let me know that he would be returning with a witch to perform a few cleaning spells the following evening. I thanked the Light for the serendipitous timing. I now had a solution to a problem.
Ever reliable, he followed through with his promise and the two arrived at dusk. After greeting and thanking them both down in the foyer, I excused myself. I let Maxim know that I was tired after being up for most of the day and that I was retiring to my quarters for the evening.
I went straight to my room and changed. I selected a full length black dress. It had long sleeves and buttoned all the way up the front. Two strips of lace detailing ran from shoulder to ankle. The garment had a wonderful vintage look to it that I felt would be appropriate.
For footwear I chose a pair of black boots which laced up to the knee and had a wedged sole. And then I draped my cape over my shoulders making sure it was inside out so that the black fabric of the lining was on display and the red material was tucked away. In my pockets, I stashed my dagger and several large bills.
Finally, I pinned my hair into a loose bun at the nape of my neck and drew my cowl. It had taken ten minutes, and I was ready.
Silently slipping down the staircase, I listened for Maxim and the witch. They were in a room down at the other end of the manor. I made my way to the rear door and did not hesitate. I exited onto the veranda.
However, once I shut the door behind me, I did pause. I knew I was taking a significant risk, but I believed it was a calculated one.
I supposed I had a good chance of avoiding The Contessa and her Umbra. She had tried to collect me on her own terms the times I had encountered her. And if she had known or felt the wards go into place, which now barred her, I doubted she would have spent more than a night or two waiting to see if I exited the manor. I believed she would feel something like that to be beneath her.
Still, I was wary . . . wary and troubled.
I had not seen Zagan since our confrontation. I had not felt his presence anywhere in the manor. Sorrowful notes from a piano far below did not sound. And no one had insisted I leave. I was afraid I had pushed him t
oo far.
I could not think about him. I ached each time I did. And instead of mulling over our circumstances, I took action. I made my way over the manor grounds trying to blend in with the shadows. Then I waited.
Thankfully it seemed the witch Maxim had employed was adept. It was not long before the two were climbing into Maxim’s vehicle. As the SUV approached the tree tunnel, the towering gate swung open, granting passage. And as I watched the tail lights fade, I slipped through.
I began a brisk pace. I had until midnight.
Chapter 24
A stop light swayed with the staccatoed gusts of wind. It had come unhinged at some point and now hung at a limp, crooked angle over the dusty lane. Yet there was no intersecting street. And although it was one continuous road–the only road—I felt as though I had entered another world.
I paused before the light and looked up. It blinked with a muted click, the red neon flashing in the dark. I watched the steady pulse and waited. For what, I don’t know.
Behind it, shops lined the street. However, there was no life, no activity here. Each structure had been abandoned. They sagged in their places, doors and windows boarded. Graffiti covered the facade of most.
The wind whipped, sending dirt and dust flying into my face. I bowed my head and held my cloak shut tighter.
I had traveled over the cobblestone at the other end of the main street. I had passed the inn, Belcalis’s vegetable stand, and the various small businesses. Until it all stopped.
The shops, the cobblestone, and the gas lamps had ended in a neat line as though sliced with a knife. With one step I had been on the main street, and with the next, I was shuffling through a dirt road, leaving the lights and sounds of the village behind. The darkness closed in on me and I was exposed to the wind and skittering grime with nothing but empty fields buffering my sides.
But now that I had reached the old part of town, as Belcalis had called it, I didn’t know where to go. It was abandoned.
I passed beneath the swaying stoplight and through the ramshackled structures. I continued to glance over my shoulder and to the sides, trying to inspect the shadows surrounding the decrepit buildings. Searching for reflective eyes. But there was nothing.
As I continued though, I eventually began to hear a low rhythmic sound. Chanting. I picked up my pace and reached a section of the street which sloped downward. And a scene unfolded before me.
The street dipped into a little valley. At the bottom, a crowd of possibly five hundred had gathered. A large bonfire lit the dark sky and a rickety looking, impromptu stage had been arranged. I had found the rally.
The gathering had been scheduled for midnight. I guessed the time was drawing near. I was thankful Maxim had arrived at the manor just after dusk and had not stayed late. I had needed those long hours to make the walk here.
I descended upon the crowd with the cowl to my cloak drawn, slipping through the others. Those who had gathered all wore the same type of apparel I had noticed in town. The women mostly wore long dresses, the men in trousers and tunics, some in cloaks, some not. But what I could see now—what I had not cared to see before—was the general weariness they wore.
It was apparent in the patched holes and mended rips of their clothes. Unkempt strands wisped from the women’s long braids and pinned buns, while the men were generally unshaven with hair that had gone too long without a trim.
These were people who worked. Who worked hard. They were struggling to get through each day. But they held on to their pride and dignity. It was clear in the way each and every one stood tall with shoulders back.
Welcome to the new age.
Welcome to the new age.
Welcome to the new age.
The chant rose and fell through the air. I could feel the vibrations of so many voices spoken at once beat within my chest.
A young man in simple clothes and shaggy hair stood upon the stage. He was raising his hands with the rise and fall of the mantra, encouraging those who had gathered. After a few minutes a cloaked figure joined the man. The crowd instantly ceased their chanting and began a deafening cheer of shouts and claps.
The figure took to a podium, arms raised for silence. While the whoops of support died down, a group of men took up buckets around the bonfire and simultaneously emptied them upon the flames. With a hiss, darkness enveloped the little valley. The crowd was silent.
Finally, the man spoke, his voice ringing across the lowland. “We honor our mother. The moon.” And he turned his back to face the sky behind him.
The Shadows began a chant in the Dark Tongue. It started as a murmur, a heartfelt pledge each one spoke to themselves. But as it continued, the magic of the words grew and with it so did their voices. Louder and louder the incantation became, until finally, a silver light broke the midnight blue horizon. And the moon, larger than I had ever seen, rose.
It hung behind the speaker, glimmering upon the people in the valley. And once it paused in its ascent, the chanting ceased. A reverent silence hushed across the crowd. Even the babies which had been carried in slings by their mothers quieted their cries and coos.
Everyone present bowed in deference, taking a moment to honor the heavenly body.
It was enough to make me believe Maxim’s tale.
When the speaker straightened, so too, did those in the crowd. They seemed at peace in the silver light. Revived.
The speaker turned to address the assembly. I could see a face beneath the cowl, but I could not make out any defining features. Too much was hidden within the fabric.
“My brothers and sisters,” he began. “Welcome to the new age!”
The crowd cheered.
The speaker continued. “For too long we have been forgotten. Our leaders have abandoned us. They claim sovereignty over us. Demand our allegiance. All the while they lead from the safety of their high-rise among the mortals.
“They have left us to die. To fend for ourselves against the attacks upon our people. They take their taxes from us and give nothing back.
“It is time we reclaim what is rightfully ours. It is time we reclaim our honor and prestige. It is time for a new age!”
And again, the crowd demonstrated their support, wildly cheering.
When the shouts died down, the speaker took up his rhetoric again. “The Courts must fall! They are corrupt. Those in power care only for themselves.
“We have tried diplomacy. We have tried to establish a dialogue with those in London. We have tried to establish a dialogue with those in Maine. Both Courts have refused us.”
At his words, I was confused. The Shadows did not have a court in Maine. We would have known about it. That was Radiant territory.
“And where is our prince? Why has he forsaken us? We have been told he was found. Yet, we await salvation.
“And while we have been cast aside by our very own Shadow government, the Lady of Light has done far worse. She has murdered. Taken countless, innocent lives. Shadow blood stains her hands. The Radiant Court must pay for their crimes against our people!”
At his words, the air had charged and then out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning struck the earth behind the stage. The crowd let out startled gasps and flinched at the surge of electricity. The speaker paused at the crack power which lit the sky. And in that brief flash of light, I was certain I could see his eyes on mine. He knew it had been because of me.
However, as soon as the outburst of power dissipated, his attention was back upon the crowd. He pointed behind him and shouted, “The moon displays her anger!”
Then he raised his hands and cried, “Welcome to the new age!”
The chant tour through the crowd once more. But not everyone had resumed their focus upon the stage. A few of the people around me had begun to look my way.
I drew my cowl farther over my face and averted my gaze, looking down at the ground. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm. I had been caught off guard and a wave of anger had shot through me. In addition to the outbur
st of power, my eyes had begun to glow.
I turned and started to retreat, pushing through the crowd, trying to make my way to the back of the gathering, keeping my eyes cast downward. But as I reached the outer limits of the audience, I felt each of my arms grabbed from behind.
I attempted to look behind me, to see who had apprehended me, but the generous fabric of my cowl, blocked my vision. I could feel two sets of strong hands.
I did not lash out. Not yet. There were too many people. I waited to see the direction I would be taken. If it was towards the stage, I would fight here and free myself. However, if I was taken somewhere more isolated, I could prevent outing myself to the entire crowd.
The two assailants began to march me forward, away from the assembly. I cooperated, hoping for a more private setting. When we reached a large tent, they did not take me inside, but around the back.
I didn’t wait any longer. I let myself go limp. As I did, both attackers strengthened their grip, holding me up. With that, I sprang from my crouch into a backward flip, allowing the hold on my arms to act as leverage.
I landed behind the two cloaked individuals. They hadn't let go, but each now held on to my wrists. I brought my arms together while leaning back with all my weight. The act was supposed to cause the attackers to crash into each other. Instead, one sidestepped the other, ducking under my arm. They each continued around me, so that my arms were pinned. I was hugging myself now as each pulled a wrist toward my back.
They were talented. I smiled. It had been too long since I sparred with my group in the Unit, and I was glad for a challenge. I would take them down in the end, I could tell. But I would have to put up a fight.
I was about to twist free when one yelled, “Violet. Stop!”
I froze. I knew that voice. I was let go, and I spun around.
The two men threw back their hoods to reveal themselves.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped.
“It’s our job to be here,” shot Rheneas. “What are you doing here?”
I pointed behind me. “That man is spreading vicious lies.”