Sekhet

  Would Victor ever find it in his heart to forgive her?

  Would she forgive herself? If only she had not called up Sekhet! If only…

  Muffled voices drew her out of the what if’s as her mind screamed her guilt over and over, until her head hurt under the pressure of keeping her composure. Taking one final look at Joe, Molly left Joe and went downstairs to see what was happening.

  Joe watched Molly leave through swollen slits where his face was partly hidden by a light blanket she had pulled over his shaking body. He had felt the chill yet his insides felt as though they were on fire. His organs burning, melting from within. How could he tell her the pain he felt without injuring her even more than she was suffering.

  The first chance he got, he would tell Dot what was happening and she would be able to stop his agony. Taking deep breaths, he tried to will his suffering to stop. Fighting for the strength he needed to withstand the pain, he closed his inflamed, puffy eyes shut and concentrated on Molly’s voice.

  Unable to make out her words, he could tell her tone held nothing like danger, so he allowed the stress in his shoulders to slacken, enabling him to rest back into the softness of the bed beneath him.

  A sound to his left drew Joe's attention, his heart pounding in his chest as the image of Sekhet’s snarling face came to mind.

  “Joe?”

  He now sat up in bed, eyes wild as they scanned the room for something.

  “Joe? Are you awake?” Dot asked again, the palm of her hand facing him ready to defend herself.

  “Dot?” His eyes finally focusing on her, his face softened from the black grimace which had formed.

  “Yes,” she smiled hoping it would be enough. “What did you see, Joe?”

  “Nothing…I don’t think. I just thought I heard…” Shaking his head to instant, horrible pain, he allowed his barriers to fall as his face told the story of a man whose nightmare was far from over.

  “Forgive me, I should have made myself known. Molly said you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you. Lord knows you need it,” Dot laughed softly.

  “I wasn’t sleeping. I haven’t slept, but I couldn’t move.” His voice sounded strangled as he spoke, drawing a surprised look his way.

  Was he pretending? Did he wish to speak with Molly only? Their union was only young as far as relationships were concerned, and while knowing he had obvious feelings for her granddaughter, Dot had to ask herself whether he trusted her. She longed to ask so many questions, yet seeing the man before her suffering with more than just his memories, all she wished to do at that moment was ease his pain. Which she did.

  “Don’t tell Molly,” he mumbled as his mouth displayed a childlike smile followed by a light snore.

  Dot had no doubt that he cared more for Molly than for himself. She left him to his dreams with hopes they were now filled with pleasant things.

  CHAPTER 20

  Chief Budrow

  Rambling around the place he had called home for what felt like a lifetime, Jack Budrow took it all in as he listened to the familiar sounds of the old house. The creaks evoking memories of children giggling, of wiping away the tears of broken teenage hearts, and the sound of his wife singing softly to herself as she went about the business of making this house their home.

  In the kitchen that had taken him two years to renovate to his satisfaction, he sat down at the table where, unlike his wife, he enjoyed spending most of his time. He took pleasure in the seemingly trivial moments that comprised family life.

  Tonight was the first time in many years he couldn’t bring himself to be in the same room with Jess. Not that he didn’t love being in her presence, but because he feared he would tell her everything. Who he really was, what her beloved children truly were, how much he loved her, and who and what was about to destroy it all.

  Clenching his fists tightly, he punched the arm of the chair, biting down with venom on th heel of his other hand, sharp teeth piercing through the skin into his flesh. His inability to keep maintaining his human form was growing more and more difficult the longer Sekhet was here.

  For a second time in as many minutes, his mind ventured into the possibility of showing Jess his true appearance, with the hopes his wife wouldn’t run from the house, screaming. His mind went blank as his oldest daughter, Aileen, stood still against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest, watching him as he cursed to himself.

  “You could just ask her to leave,” she said with a shrug, as if that were the answer to all the problems he was facing.

  The fact that he had assumed his daughter wouldn’t be aware that the woman she had always known as Lucy Patterson, was in fact not her at all made him feel foolish.

  “What is the worst she can do?” she laughed lightly.

  His daughter made him struggle in his own skin. He watched as she floated across the room, choosing a chair close to the window, looking out as if expecting someone. And as far as he knew, she probably was.

  It had taken him a long time to acknowledge that his daughter, for whom he had lost all sense the moment she cried her first cry, was stunningly beautiful. How would her mother cope with the truth behind her existence? This thought alone made him snarl loudly when he thought of Sekhet’s demands.

  “You, child, have no idea what the worst she can do is.”

  That was enough for her manner to change instantly. “Okay, tell me.”

  Her interest sparked at an alarming rate, and he hissed at her under his breath. What bothered him the most was that Sekhet was right in criticizing him for staying so long. In all his centuries of existence, he had never before wanted to remain in this realm forever. For the love he knew he could never truly have. But how he had tried!

  She was a witch, this beautiful child Jess had borne. The consequences of this had never occurred to him as he lived the life of a mortal, all the while ignoring his responsibilities to those waiting for his return to the underworld.

  “Leave me in peace. I need to concentrate.” He arose, and turning his back on his daughter, began to pace, ignoring the fact she had yet to pay any attention to his request.

  “Tell me about her!” she demanded.

  “What would you like to know, child? That she has drunk the blood of thousands, or bathed in it, depending on her humor? That she thrives on the suffering of others, delights in extracting pain? That their screams bring her the most exquisite release? That her hunger is insatiable? Have you ever witnessed bodies floating past in a river of blood? No, I believe you have not! So tell me, Aileen, what do you want to know?”

  His daughter paled. For a few long moments, she said nothing. Finally, she asked, “How do you know her, Father?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” His voice broke under the strain.

  “Tell me!”

  Lowering his head, he shook it gently, his eyes closing as the sting of salt came without warning. “She is my wife. From another realm.”

  Aileen gasped. Words formed on her lips that found no voice.

  The once-formidable Chief Budrow was silent. Feeling his skin tighten, Scurlock took a breath, closed his eyes, and concentrated on what he had to do. He went in search of Jess. She was in their bedroom.

  “Honey, sit down, I have something to tell you. To show you.” He unfurled his wings.

  The sound of Jess hitting the floor as he walked toward her, hand extended, wings unfolded around him, displaying his true self, was enough for Scurlock to admit he had made a mistake. The only thing he could think of now was how Lucifer was going to react to this latest turn of events.

  ***

  As the car slowed to a stop, Veronica lowered the window to take a look at the house she had never thought she would be walking into again.

  Natasha asked, turning off the ignition, watching as a flurry of emotions raced across Veronica’s face. “Are you ready?”

  Screams from inside the house were all that was required for the two witches to bolt from the car, galloping toward the dwellin
g, ready for battle. Bursting through the front door, not slowing down to knock, Veronica stumbled over the body writhing in agony.

  “What the hell?” Holding out her arms to halt Natasha coming fast on her heels, Veronica stood back in shock. Red tattoo-like lines traced over every inch of the body, and the eyes were dead, total darkness radiating from him on waves of heat.

  “Natasha?” Victor’s voice was tired, but she could hear the relief behind the concern. Pulling her close, he held her tightly, whispering in her ear, hoping she would understand the necessity for calmness.

  Letting her go when he felt her nod of acknowledgment against his shoulder, he turned to Veronica with a weary smile. “Veronica, it’s good to see you, girl.” Following the same dance as Natasha, he released her once he knew it was safe to let her go.

  The smells were all wrong. In place of pies, coffee, and fresh herbs, there was the stench of charred flesh. Natasha walked around to the other side of the room to go in search of Dot. Not finding her, she decided to use a sensing spell. Following the heavy mood toward the door leading to the basement, she went down the steps, suspicious of all surrounding her. Loud whispers came from the back corner, forcing her to squint into the dimly lit part of the building.

  “Dottie?”

  “Natasha, is that you?” Molly whispered, shocked at the concept that she was in Twisp.

  “Molly? Where is Dot?”

  “I am here, child.”

  “What are you both doing down here? And what the hell is going on upstairs?”

  “Shush!” Molly rasped, grabbing Natasha roughly by the arm, drawing her in closer.

  “Seriously, what are you doing? Actually, ignore that question—what is that smell?”

  “That’s Lucy,” Molly replied, as if it was of no consequence that her mother smelled like two-day-old meat left out in the heat for too long.

  “Ignore her, Natasha, she is in shock and can’t seem to decide who is more important right now.” Pointing to the ceiling as a reminder of what was going on upstairs, Dot looked over her shoulder at Molly, who was now rocking back and forth.

  “Where is Lucy?” Natasha asked.

  “Victor says she was with Daniel, only over the last few hours, he hasn’t heard from her, nor can he contact her. If we can figure out this glossary, we may be able to put Lucy back in her body,” Dot added, wiping her nose onto the back of her hand, while using the other one to clear her eyes.

  “I’m not sure she would appreciate that.” Natasha’s nose scrunched up in disgust.

  “Could you not have put her in the freezer?” Veronica asked, coming down the stairs.

  “Veronica!” Dot cried with delight. “Oh, I am so happy to see you!” Holding her tightly by the elbows and shaking her gently, Dot’s face was alight with pleasure.

  “This is all wrong.”

  “Oh, I know, dear,” Dot said, her gladness turning once again to a pessimistic sadness.

  “No, I mean this …” Throwing her arms out in a waving motion over the display in front of her, Veronica rolled up her sleeves, circled the table and said, “It would seem I arrived just in time. Bring Lucy down here and lay her on the table.” And just as the words came from her mouth, Veronica knew she was in way over her head. And she had just publicly acknowledged that she was skilled in the art of left-handed magic.

  Veronica glanced over her shoulder to see if it was Victor who was boring holes in her back, or every Council Member with a spell on their lips ready to strip her of her powers, as they had done to Molly.

  ***

  The only thing worse than knowing that you screwed up was realizing it in front of a room full of people while a witch is writhing in pain in the room above your head. Veronica couldn’t believe her own stupidity.

  Assuming herself competent enough to bring Lucy back after two days was ludicrous. For God’s sake, not only did Lucy smell horrific, her skin had already loosened upon her limbs, displaying markings Veronica assumed had occurred while Lucy’s body was not her own, was being possessed.

  The basement was exactly how Veronica remembered it from her childhood – the evening classes, which had run through to midnight, and how they had left her exhausted but determined to succeed at every spell known. Of course, this kind of spell was not something the Elders wished the younger generation to know, a little too determined for their liking, Veronica had predicted.

  As the years had passed, it had not stopped her from dabbling in the dark arts, only to fail time after time. By no means ever going to the extreme of what Molly had done, Veronica, had to admit she was glad beyond comparison that her own desire to be acquainted with such power was nothing compared to Molly’s.

  She would not want to be in Molly’s shoes right now. Pausing for the fourth time in as many minutes, for some strange unknown reason, she felt as though something was obstructing her from saying the words. Her conscience, maybe? She didn’t know.

  The words she had used so many times before – and granted, not always working – had been efficient in most cases with small birds, not human corpses. This was different, this was personal, and not in the “I’m going to prove them all wrong” variety.

  In fact, Veronica wasn’t one hundred percent sure what and how she was going to do what they wanted. Her mind raced with complete dread as her nervousness grew. Why am I doing this? Victor is here, why doesn’t he do his damn job? How long are we going to allow him to hide behind Daniel?

  Drawing her hands back to herself, Veronica glanced in Dot’s direction. She couldn’t do what they wanted; it would not be Lucy who would reappear, no matter how many chants were thrown in for good measure. Chancing a look at the woman lying on the table, Veronica laid a gentle hand upon Lucy’s cheek and whispered, “Forgive me, but I cannot.”

  “She said don’t worry about it,” Victor spoke up, coming away from the wall where he had been standing, arms folded, a stress frown upon his forehead. Watching everything, down to the slightest of motions, as people moved here and there, he was trying not to be too close to the woman on the table.

  Overhearing Victor, Dot asked, “What do you mean, she said…wait, she is here? Now?”

  All Dot’s attention was focused on Victor, who nodded in response. “I’m not saying that Lucy…” he said, glancing to his left.

  “Where else would she be?” said Dot softly, her eyes upon her daughter’s strange, unresponsive body.

  “What?” Molly asked from the stairway.

  Turning to face his lifelong friend, Victor saw that the dark rings under her eyes revealed a tale of sleepless nights, while her clothes hung messed up around her body. Her hair was loose, uncombed and matted. She twitched, rubbing her forearms quickly.

  “Answer me, Victor,” Molly ordered him. “What did my mother say to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Victor’s response was followed by a swift movement towards her, his hand outstretched in friendly sympathy.

  “Don’t!” Moving back out of arm’s length, Molly glared at him with contempt, “I said, what did she say, Victor!”

  “Oh, just tell her,” Lucy sang out for Victor’s ears only, making her way across the room to stand beside her daughter.

  “She won’t appreciate it.” Victor’s clipped tone made Lucy laugh, which in turn made him grind his teeth under the pressure to remain calm.

  “Victor…” Molly’s voice shook slightly, “…I’m warning you…”

  “She has decided not to come back if she is going to continue to disappoint you,” replied Victor, hoping his lie would help Molly, if even for a moment, before she realized it was in fact just that, a lie.

  “Ha! That is not what I said and you know it!” Lucy spluttered, leaving Victor to pat himself on the back for his ability to piss off Lucy even after death.

  “Stop lying, Victor. I have known this woman since the moment I was born, all of my life, and that would have been the last thing Lucy would ever say.”

  “Even in death, she ca
n’t bring herself to call me mom,” Lucy said, for Victor’s ears only.

  “What do you expect?” Victor barked, much to his annoyance that only he could see and hear Lucy. Right now, that little fact was pissing him off. A fleeting look between them, Victor and Molly, told Molly exactly what she needed to know.

  “Even without saying the words, that sounds more like Lucy.”

  Twisting around in a complete circle as if, by some miracle, Molly would see or sense her, Lucy began to laugh gently at herself.

  Taking the necessary steps, Molly settled directly over Lucy’s prone body, leaned down and uttered, “I was ready to take your place.” At that, she stood tall, wiped the solitary tear from her cheek and rushed upstairs, away from the sensational, yet emotional numbness that single moment had brought with it.

  “Veronica, dear, please continue,” Dot murmured from across the table, “We do not have much time left before the Chief comes knocking once again.” Bending forward, Dot patted Veronica tenderly on the hand, smiling through heavy eyes.

  “Dot…I cannot…I…”

  “Nonsense, child.” Dot’s response was as calm as it had been since they had arrived. Her voice hadn’t seemed to change in tone or pitch. Just her usual grandmotherly voice that meant that it would all be okay. “You are a very talented young witch, you always have been, and I am sorry you were never told as much.” Again, the gentle stroking of the hand, the kindhearted smile, the soft voice, all in all the perfect combination to compel Veronica to overlook the nastiest of recent years and deal with the present state of affairs.

  “Do it!” Lucy shouted, forcing Victor to curse under his breath. “Tell her to try, Victor!”

  “I thought you said…”

  “I know what I said, Victor, damn it, but did you hear what Molly said? She was going to take my place. Do you know what that means? Do you?”

  “Yes, that she had a lapse of character.” His response was filled with sarcasm, much to Lucy’s exasperation.