by Shara Lanel
Diera felt the flames burning her as they did the witch. She heard the chant from the condemned woman, words she didn’t know, but that she somehow understood. The woman was casting her soul back to the earth to dwell there until her time in the Summerland.
Holt’s hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her upright, away from the earth, away from the images burned there.
“What did you see?” he whispered.
Diera described each scene. Her hands continued to tingle and energy snapped through her body. Power. There was power here, in this place, but more importantly, in her. She was a descendent of the red-haired witch.
* * * *
Holt saw the realization in Diera’s face. She’d seen something magical and true, and after the visions, she’d touched the marble of the Tate mausoleum and whispered words of forgiveness. She’d taken Holt’s hand as they walked back to the car, obviously forgiving him, too, for his ill-conceived spell casting earlier. He’d only wanted to comfort her, forgetting that anything witch-related would not bring her comfort. But something had changed here. She seemed focused and knowing. She drove along the road that edged the river until they saw a clearing of marred earth and cut trees where a bulldozer sat. Holt could only follow her wonderingly as she got out of the car and scrambled down the small hill to the clearing. She walked around the area, touching the ground in spots, and when she returned to him, she held several objects in her hand: a tiny pentagram necklace, the end of a burnt incense stick, and two snuffed matches.
“They met here.”
“Who did?”
“The Nightshade Coven. This is where they held their last esbat.”
“You sound so certain.”
“I am.” Her tone of voice dared him to question her, but since he had more faith in the unseen than she did, he didn’t feel the need.
“Do you think they meet in the same place every month?”
“They do now. Although for Samhain, he might need more privacy.”
“Who?”
“Setnau.”
She didn’t look like she was in a trance, but she spoke as if she held a scrying mirror in front of her, with firm conviction.
“Should we go track down Isis now? I’m guessing Setnau must be the High Priest.”
Diera blinked. “How the hell should I know?”
Holt couldn’t stop his grin. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight. “You’re a fascinating woman, you know that?”
“And you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Ah, into spanking, are you?”
Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. She wove her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his face lower, closer to hers. Then she whispered, “If anyone does any spanking around here, it’ll be me.” A sneaky smile lit her face. She pulled him in for a deep kiss, and Holt found himself picturing his naked ass being gently flogged with the instrument of torture wielded by Dominatrix Diera. Could be interesting. And he sincerely hoped that their relationship would last long enough to progress to that point of trust. He’d meant what he’d said earlier about her being the missing part of him. It was a feeling sent to him by otherworldly means. Something he couldn’t quantify or debate. He was a man of faith, and he knew his relationship with Diera, whether rocky or smooth, was meant to be.
They located Isis’s house. Isis, otherwise known as Janet, was a plain, older woman who lacked Rowena’s inner beauty to make up for the ravages of age. Her black hair was limp and greasy and her eyes were too small for her face. Diera stayed in the car, allowing Holt to pour on his masculine charm to get the information they needed—the name of the High Priest. Holt basically said he’d heard about the coven from a friend and wanted to meet the High Priest and learn more about it. The woman’s somewhat vacant face glowed a bit when he touched her arm. Finally she revealed that her High Priest was the great Setnau, but that wasn’t enough, so Holt whispered a small enhancing charm and layered on a bit more flattery. The sad woman gave up Setnau’s address, though not his real name.
Back in the car, Holt said, “Got it. It’s on a street off Hilliard.” Once he said the address, though, Diera refused to start the car. She sat there, looking just about as messed up as she had at the cemetery when telling him her story.
“What’s the matter? Kim’s probably there.”
“That’s where it happened.”
“Where what happened?”
“Where I was raped.”
Chapter Five
Utter silence gripped the car. Holt’s mouth moved and he fidgeted in the car seat, but he didn’t seem to know what to say. Diera sensed comfort coming from him, and she wondered if he’d cast a spell again, or was it just the heightened awareness she seemed to have gained after her vision quest in the cemetery?
Finally Holt spoke, “Didn’t you say that creep died in prison?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m sure his house was auctioned off then. It must have new owners.”
“New owners also into the occult?”
He laid his hand on the edge of her bucket seat, as if afraid touching would upset her more. “He’s dead, and we’ve got to find Kim, right?”
After several deep breaths, Diera managed the mechanical motions of putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb. She still wasn’t sure she could go back to that house. They had the addresses of the other occult dealers that Rowena had given them, so she could say they should check them out first, but that was just a delaying tactic, unnecessary, and the longer they waited the more harm might come to Kim.
An’ it harm none, so mote it be. She heard a woman’s voice inside her head. The accent was strange, possibly Irish. What did the words mean? Where had they come from?
“Holt?”
“Yes, dear.” He grinned, and Diera couldn’t help grinning back. She really liked this guy, despite him being a witch and all.
“Already to that stage, are we? Bypassed the sweet nothings and names like Sweetums and Sugar Pie?”
“Actually we haven’t even had our first date, but that’s besides the point. Were you going to ask me something?”
“Yeah. What does ‘An’ it harm none, so mote it be’ mean?” She glanced at him and saw his eyes narrow, before she refocused on her driving and turned onto Staples Mill Road.
“It’s what Wiccans say when spell casting. It means any spell we create must be to benefit others or ourselves, not harm them. There’s also the threefold law, which says that anything we do will come back to us times three. That’s how I knew the coven your parents belonged to wasn’t Wiccan. Wiccans would not force an innocent to do that. They wouldn’t force anybody to do something against their will.”
“Hmm.” She thought about the words whispered in her mind. “I think the Wise Woman from my vision is trying to let me know that I can trust you.”
“Excellent. Good to have her on my side.”
“I wish I knew her name.”
“Your aunt might know. Maybe she’s had the same experience. Maybe the woman is a ancestor of yours.”
“She is. She told me so.”
“I think she’s also telling you to trust yourself. She’s giving you the words you need to tap your power.”
Diera shook her head. She didn’t believe in such things. She didn’t. She’d find Kim, go back to Norfolk and her mundane, logical job, and she’d forget all of this. Wouldn’t she?
Once on Hilliard, she and Holt focused on reading the street names until they found the correct turn. Eventually the street dead-ended in a cul-de-sac, and that’s where they found the house. It was a dinky, gray clapboard house that didn’t stand out in any way from the houses on either side of it. The lawn was neatly mowed, the paint was not new but not peeling either, and the windows were framed with fake shutters and covered by blinds on the inside.
“You stay in the car, okay?” Diera said as she parked in front of the neighboring house.
Holt unbuckled his
seatbelt. “I’m going with you.”
“Listen, if by chance it is your boss, do you want him to see you out and about?”
“Good point. But you have another reason, don’t you?”
“If it’s Aleister, I want to see his reaction, and I think he’ll be less guarded if there’s no audience.”
“Then take this.” He pulled a leather strap from around his neck. At the end of it was a pouch.
“What is it?”
“Protection. Rowena gave it to me at the shop. She began creating them for all the coven members as soon as she sensed the dark magick in the area.”
Diera rubbed her finger over the soft suede pouch. It smelled like a kitchen, filled with herbs she couldn’t identify. “Okay, but just for now. I want you to have it back for your own safety.”
“And I’m watching you. Don’t go inside without me, okay?”
She sighed. She wasn’t going to commit to that one. If the High Priest invited her in, that would give her a chance to look for Kim.
Diera walked slowly to the door and rang the doorbell, reminding herself that the dream hadn’t specified a particular person putting Kim in danger. In fact, this man could have nothing to do with it. She needed to approach this cautiously, with a friendly façade, as she asked him questions. Maybe he could tell her where Kim was staying and with whom, or a phone number. But as Diera lifted her hand to punch the buzzer, a sudden nausea rolled over her and a veil of gray floated before her eyes. She pressed the button and gripped the molding to stay upright, thinking she might pass out as she waited for someone to answer the door.
What was going on? She heard thumps, footsteps so loud that someone had to be walking on her brain. In her mind, she saw stairs painted black and dress shoes treading up those steps. It was Setnau. She couldn’t see Kim, though. She sensed a barrier at the bottom of the steps, something solid that kept her from seeing beyond. The gray mist turned almost black, and she knew that Setnau stood on just the other side of the door. Get away! She didn’t want to see him. He was just like his father—she could sense it.
“Can I help you?” the man asked, as he opened the door just a few inches. He was dressed in business casual, all in black as if heading to a business dinner or to work. The man’s fingers, holding the door open, were adorned with a pentagram ring, another engraved with some sort of rune, and a ruby thumb ring. Diera forced herself to meet his eyes. He recognized her the moment their gazes locked. She knew this as truly as if he’d told her. He looked surprised, then his face went carefully blank. He was waiting for her reaction.
“Aleister,” she said in as close to a normal voice as she could manage, when she really wanted to run screaming back to Holt’s arms.
“Diera? Is that you?” He pasted a friendly smile on his face, one that didn’t reach his eyes, which were cold and calculating.
“Yes, it is.”
He offered his hand in greeting. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it. But she had to shake hands, act natural. The nausea nearly made her gag as her palm grazed his. It was too much. She couldn’t face this.
“Would you like to come in? We could catch up.”
“Um.” She needed to find Kim, so she should say yes, but she couldn’t. “No, I’m sorry. Too many memories.” She forced her lips to curve up. “In fact, I can’t believe you still live here.”
“Well, I inherited it on my eighteenth birthday and I guess I just never got around to going anyplace else.”
“Um, I’m actually here because I heard you were High Priest of the Nightshade Coven.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who told you this?”
“Around. I’ve been talking to the occult community in town.”
“I’m very surprised. I thought that would be one thing you’d never do.”
“Well, I’m looking for a girl. Her father is my boss, and I offered to help him out since I knew the area.”
“What girl? You think I might know her?” His voice implied incredulity. Lying bastard.
“Her name’s Kim Jacobs. She told her father that she was checking out your coven.” He hadn’t actually admitted it was his coven, but she could see the truth. The Wise Woman from her vision seemed to be acting as a spirit guide, whispering information in her mind, sending her the visions from inside the house. “You’re Setnau, right?”
His eyes bulged, shocked at being caught out, no doubt. He fisted his hand and looked like he’d really like to break something, probably planning to roast Isis for revealing his address. Poor woman.
“I have a picture.” Diera pulled it out of her purse and practically shoved it in his face. “Do you know where she is?”
He schooled his expression once again. “No, I’m afraid I’ve never met the girl.”
Diera realized that she’d made a mistake earlier. She should have gotten Holt to show Isis the picture. She might have slipped up and told the truth. Was it too late to go back and question her again? Holt had worked some kind of magic on her, although she hoped not literally.
“And though it’s such a pleasure to see you again,” Aleister said smoothly, exuding sincerity. “I’m afraid I’m getting ready to head back to the office. I own an ad agency now.”
She should do more—push her way inside or something—but the fear paralyzed her intentions, so instead she said, “Good for you. I’m glad to see you’re not following in your father’s footsteps.”
“He was a sick man, I’m ashamed to say, and I’m sorry for what he did to your family.”
Diera backed up quickly, almost forgetting the steps. She stopped just in time to keep from teetering over. “Well, I’ll let you get on with your day. Good to see you, Aleister.”
She forced herself to walk at a moderate pace back to the car, since she could feel his glare on the back of her body. She was pissed at herself for not doing more. She’d not really gotten a straight answer out of him, and she’d certainly not found Kim. Now what?
“Well, we could stake out the place,” Holt said, once she’d steered the car back onto Hilliard and explained the situation to him. “I just can’t believe that bastard is my boss. I feel like I’ve betrayed you, when I really didn’t know about that side of his life at all. I never suspected.”
She patted his arm. “It’s okay. You didn’t even know me a few days ago. How could you know the truth?”
They decided to grab some food, then track down some of the occult dealers Rowena had mentioned, plus the man Diera had talked to when she’d first started this search. His shop was the closest to Aleister’s house, so perhaps they’d get lucky.
After several hours they did learn a few things, such as the type of supplies Aleister bought: black candles, an assortment of dried herbs and resins, an ebony-handled athame and matching wand, and thirteen rodent skulls.
“That is just sick,” Diera said after they’d obtained that bit of information.
They also found a few members of his coven, but they all shook their heads like automatons when showed Kim’s picture. Diera had sensed the gray mist over each one of them.
“I think he’s got a spell over them.”
“It takes very powerful magick to control people from a distance. Are you sure it’s a spell and not some sort of brainwashing or threats?”
“No, it’s a spell, one telling them to overlook things, to miss certain details. Ever since that vision in the cemetery it’s like I can sense things that I couldn’t before.”
They drove back to Maeve with stomachs growling. Diera’s aunt had read her mind and cooked her favorite meal, beef stew. Perfect for a crisp fall day. They sat out on the porch with crocks full of beef and veggies, and relaxed. Maeve and Diera shared the porch swing, and Holt sat on the top step and leaned against a post.
“Aunt Maeve, have you ever … seen something near Mom’s grave?”
Maeve’s eyes sharpened. “Did you have a vision, honey? Did you see her? Ulicia?”
“Is that her name? I saw her burned at the stake, and I
saw the baby.”
“Ah, yes. The baby, I believe, shared your name. Diera is a name that’s been handed down in our family for generations.”
“So what does the vision mean?” She was frustrated at not understanding all that was happening in her life so suddenly—meeting Aleister again, having visions, having sex and enjoying it, feeling free and almost happy. So much at once, as if she’d been living her life on auto pilot just waiting for this one moment in time for everything to come together.
“You are descended from a long line of witches. I know in Wicca you don’t have to be descended from a witch to be one, but I believe certain families have passed the Craft through their blood. I researched our genealogy when I was younger, and I found a few diaries from the women in our family from the last century or so. In each one, they recorded how they’d discovered the Craft on their own. It was never taught. In fact it was hidden, but somehow each generation discovered it anew. I believe that’s Ulicia’s magick, and our legacy.”
* * * *
Diera couldn’t sleep again and she wished she’d been brave enough to ask Holt to spend the night in her room. Why hadn’t he made the suggestion? Probably in deference to her feelings, which just sucked. She wanted him to focus on her horniness, not her emotions. But the fact that he did care about her emotions was what allowed her to trust him. Was he sleeping? Was there something more they could do to protect Kim? Forget this useless pacing. She needed to see Holt, so she went to knock on the man’s door.
As soon as he’d let her inside, she said, “What can we do? There’s got to be something.”
Holt wrapped her in a bear hug and kissed her forehead. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one still awake.” He turned her chin up and gave her a deep, tasty kiss. “Umm. Well, I’ve been researching online and I think I’ve found a spell we could use to visualize and break through whatever magickal barrier he’s erected.”
“And then you think I’ll be able to see if she’s in the basement?” She cradled her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was such a solid sound, so comforting. She could listen to it for hours.