by Jaci Miller
Dane’s mind was fuzzy but somewhere deep in her memory the name Stevie surfaced. “Why am I here?”
“It is the only way to release you from the binds of the daemon who holds you in his otherworldly grip. The one you know as Lucien.”
“Daemon?” She rubbed her head. “Lucien Beck?” She laughed and her voice echoed through the strange place. “He’s not a daemon, he’s a businessman.”
“He is so much more than that.” Adaridge reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass vial handing it to her. “Drink this. It will help clear your mind.”
She took it and without hesitation drank its contents. Almost instantly, the fog cleared taking the confusion with it. Her mind once again her own.
“It’s a temporary fix, so we must hurry. There is much you need to know.”
“Tell me about Lucien.”
“Lucien Beck has been involved in the magical community in your world for a long time. He is what is known as a glamour witch and possesses the power to make people succumb to his wishes. Like your father, he is the only one of his kind.”
“I’ve never heard of a glamour witch,” Dane said.
“They have always been a rare breed, even in my time for their powers go against the belief that one should never use their magic to manipulate another’s free will.”
The code, she thought.
Adaridge’s face paled. “The only other glamour witch I knew was Lucien’s ancestor—Vertigan Tierney’s wife.”
Her mind raced. All the feelings erupting inside her when Lucien was near weren’t real? She found him intoxicating, desirable and longed for the taste of his mouth and his touch constantly but it was all a lie. “Are you saying I’m under his spell?!”
“Yes, but there is more. His powers are linked to the ancient dark now because he freely gave his soul and the life of another to gain dark magic. Lucien Beck is no longer just a glamour witch, he is a daemon—an incubus.”
Dane felt sick. “Who did he sacrifice?”
Adaridge knew to whom she referred but could not provide her with the answers she sought. Lucien had killed her mother to invoke Dane’s wrath, to unleash the darkness within. But wrath was bedlam and unpredictable and Adaridge required her focus. He could not chance the fate of her world on a twisted desire for revenge. Lucien Beck must not see his death coming.
Thankfully, the truth was not that, and he answered without remorse.
“Lucien had a sister.”
Something in her cloudy memory shook loose. “Lilith.”
Adaridge nodded.
“He killed her?”
“The ancient dark required a blood sacrifice to initiate the pact, but not any blood would do. It must be the sacrifice of someone from the Tierney line. A sacrifice worthy of immortality.”
Her mind reeled. Lilith was dead.
Even though she’d wanted the same, she couldn’t help feeling empathy toward the woman. She too had been betrayed.
“What does Lucien want with me?”
His amber eyes darkened. “That is a complex answer and that hearkens back to a different time. You see Lucien’s ancestor, Vertigan Tierney was not the first, nor only, in his lineage to fall to darkness. Their souls succumbed long ago to pure evil and its tainted the bloodline for centuries, damning those who carried the Tierney blood to fall to their own weakness and desires.”
“And what was his weakness.”
“For Vertigan, it was your family.”
The temple on her left side began to throb, and she rubbed it softly with her fingers as Adaridge continued.
“You may suppose he had remorse for how things ended after the Great War, but you would be mistaken. His treacherous acts against the Order, Rafe, and Claaven became his undoing, but in his mind, everything he did was justified. Justified by the festering hatred he felt toward your ancestor which he aptly concealed from everyone. You see, Vertigan’s jealousy had no bounds. He desired Seri, the celestial Claaven was bound too. He envied his status within the Warlician Order and the respect of those who served under him. Even his trusted position as sentry leader was not enough because he knew he would never ascend beyond that rank. The Order would never be his. Rafe’s father was Claaven’s second in command and Vertigan knew one day Rafe would succeed him in power. The authority and prestige he so badly desired, Claaven had. Vertigan Tierney was easily corruptible by the ancient dark because he already lived within the darkness.”
“And because of their lineage, Lucien and Lilith carry the same darkness.”
“Yes. She succumbed to hers, but Lucien has found a way to harness it for his own gain. He seeks revenge for his lineage and for the treatment of his ancestor. But unlike Lilith, he does not desire to end your life. Lucien Beck does not hate you, quite the opposite, he desires you. He wants you to rule beside him in the new world where magic will once again exist without fear or consequence. He wants you to be his lover, his confidant, his queen. And that gives you the upper hand.”
“How.”
“He has crafted his seduction of you for a very long time and for good reason. Once the ancient dark is released from the depths of the earth, it becomes unpredictable. Although Lucien has power over it now, he knows it is fleeting. His powers come directly from his connection to it. Yours come from the ancient realms, the elements, and the ether. Your power is infinite. Without you, he is unable to control the ancient dark. With you, he becomes unstoppable. You are the only one who can change the prophecy, Dane. He needs you.”
Lucien’s words echoed through her mind. “You just need to pull the right thread and the whole thing will unravel.”
The purple environment flickered.
“The magic is fading we must hurry. As the night of the full moon approaches and the prophecy nears Lucien Beck’s powers will grow. The stronger the ancient dark gets; the more powerful Lucien will become. The blood pact bound his inner darkness to the ancient dark and in turn, has disrupted the ancient prophecy. If the pact is not severed, then the future of your world is bleak. Anarchy will rule as darkness spreads out across the lands and all those born without magic will be enslaved or perish.”
Dane thought of the images Lucien had shown her. A world of devastation and death. Was that the result of the prophecy coming to pass or was it in fact, the world’s fate if it didn’t? Lucien’s handsome face floated through her mind. Could he really be so cruel, so cold?
Adaridge touched her arm. “You are blessed with the gift to see light within the darkness but do not be fooled—not all light is good nor is it always true. Lucien cannot be saved. For the pact to be severed, and the ancient prophecy realized—Lucien Beck must die.”
He reached inside his robes and pulled out a knife.
The handle was carved from a white substance. Bone? The ebony blade glinted as runes embedded into its matte surface reflected the subdued light. It was the size of a ceremonial athame, and archaic energy pulsed from it.
As if reading her mind Adaridge explained. “This athame is the one thing that can kill the daemon. You must plunge the blade straight into Lucien’s heart. It is essential that the handle touch skin, so it must be pushed in up to the hilt. The magic bound to this knife is primordial; older than time and space. The bone of the handle comes from the first Druid and the blade is forged from dragonscale. Magic from the four natural elements imbue the runes. Only this knife can sever the pact and release the Tierney soul from its unhallowed binds.”
Reaching out she took the knife from Adaridge.
“Dane you must remember one thing. Because of his connection to the ancient dark, Lucien will recognize this blade. You must not let him see it until the moment you plunge it through his heart. If he knows you possess this weapon, you will not get the chance. Killing the incubus and ending the pact will weaken the ancient dark, and in turn, its connection to the new world will bec
ome precarious. That will be your time to attack. Without severing the pact there will be no chance to defeat the incubus or the ancient dark. Your world will fall, and all will be lost.”
Dane’s mind was whirling. She’d been under Lucien’s spell for weeks and much of her memory was still foggy. “But how do I succeed when I’m under his control?”
Adaridge smiled. “Your friends have not forsaken you.”
He again reached into his wool robe and pulled out another metal object—an amulet.
“Gabriella has acquired a token from your time.”
He held the amulet up.
“It stores potent magic called voodoo, magic able to break the hold the incubus has over you. But it too must remain hidden—always in your possession. If the daemon finds it you will not recover, and the prophecy will find a new path, a darker path.”
Dane took the amulet he offered. “How did you get this from Gabby? How is that even possible?”
“I provided someone long ago with the knowledge of the Druids. Not everything can be written down, some things must pass verbally to those who require specific knowledge.”
“Rafe,” she sighed, thinking about their conversation and how Adaridge chose him as the vessel for the Druid knowledge.
He nodded. “I knew one day you and Rafe would be bound. The Pool of Sight showed me your destinies. You were destined to connect our worlds and make them stronger, but he would be the bridge back when your path forked, and darkness beckoned. I needed to give him the seeds of knowledge to be able to access the All Souls, so when the time came, he would know what to do. Rafe has been my conduit to you, allowing me to communicate across time and space and to connect the All Souls to your plane of existence so that this moment in time would exist. Druid knowledge is magic and Rafe has kept it alive. Your destinies are linked in more ways than you know.”
Dane glanced down at the amulet in her palm. “This will release me from Lucien’s control and steer my destiny back to Rafe?”
The All Souls flickered as it began to fade, and the Druid’s physical form ebbed.
“There is darkness in all of us and, if allowed, it becomes all-consuming. That amulet will save you from the daemon’s darkness but only you can conquer your own and decide which path you wish to walk.”
His amber eyes closed, and he began to fade. “I must go.”
The warm wind swirled around her as his essence returned to its maker and the All Souls turned to black.
As she was pulled back through time and space to her own world, a faint whisper drifted through her mind.
“Remember to use the darkness, do not become it.”
Chapter 33
A mass of angry gray clouds clustered in the early morning sky as Lucien stared out the bedroom window. It rained yesterday and most of the remaining snow had disappeared. Spring wasn’t too far away but mortals wouldn’t see another. After tomorrow, they would know nothing but darkness and misery. The sun would be cast aside, and the warmth of its rays would fade into memory. The world would be lit by fire and brimstone as the skies churned with anger and the lands leeched blood. In time, magic would once again rule the earth and those without its power would submit to a new hierarchy.
He smiled as he watched Dane sleep.
Tomorrow a new king and queen would rise from the ashes as a new era came forth. The earth cleansed of its sins would start anew and mankind would no longer exist as it does now.
They arrived at the mill a few hours later.
The surrounding field still held the moisture from the rainstorm and the driveway was thick with muddy puddles. Trees drooped under a menacing gray as drops of water fell from their leaves. A gloomy atmosphere shrouded the mill in its embrace but one that aptly reflected what was to come.
Lucien exited the vehicle and sniffed the damp air. A faint essence of magic tinged its wisps. Someone had been here. Glancing around the property he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but magic had a way of hiding in plain sight. He grinned, maybe the immortals would make this more interesting.
He sauntered around the car and opened the passenger door for her. He was dressed all in black: a black turtleneck sweater, dark jeans, combat boots, and a leather bomber jacket.
His bright blue eyes looked at her with affection as he extended his hand.
“Come, my love. We have one more thing to do before tomorrow evening.”
Together they walked into the musty old mill. The interior began to hum as hundreds of pods recognized their presence and pulsed a sickly yellow light.
Soon their time to open would come.
Lucien walked without hesitation through the crowded space and disappeared into the basement. Dane stood for a moment surrounded by the daemon pods. A faint pulse throbbed from each one like the thump of a heartbeat. Reaching out she touched the nearest one. Her fingers tingled as the dark magic ignited her skin. A soft whisper drifted on the stale air, and her dark eyes flashed in recognition.
Smiling she walked to the stairs.
“There you are,” Lucien said.
They were in the small storage unit at the back of the basement. The room was still the same as when she was last here. Burlap flour bags stamped with a black Gristmill Flour Co. were piled in the corners and pulley wheels, machinery parts, and other tools lined the old rickety shelves. The difference was now the dirt floor contained a sizable crack stretching from one side of the room to the other. Yellow light glowed from its depths and the current of magic throbbing within filled the entire room in a ghastly glow.
Lucien took a small knife from his pocket. The handle was black with three runes etched into the surface and the thick metal blade glinted in the light from the candle. He stood beside the open fissure and drew the edge of the blade across the skin of his palm. A line of crimson appeared, and he clenched his fist holding it over the crack in the floor. Blood dripped from his hand. As it fell into the chasm, it sparked the yellow light into blazing flames that licked at the edges.
Closing his eyes, he began to chant.
Sever the light
Sever the day
Sever the weak
Rise beast of darkness
Lord of realms
And cleanser of earth
The fire flashed upward sending bright yellow sparks toward the ceiling. Flickering shadows danced across his handsome face as he turned to face her. “It has been done. Our future belongs to the beast now. It will rise when the full moon is at its peak bringing with it a prophecy of our making.”
Dane reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face drawing him close. She pressed her lips to his and then said. “Tomorrow your life will forever change.”
Elyse knocked softly on the bedroom door. “May I come in?”
There was no response, so she turned the knob. Marlee sat upright in bed. A pink tinge softened her pale skin and her eyes shone. The bindings had been removed, and she seemed much better, yet she looked defeated.
“How are you feeling.”
“Empty.”
“Are you hungry? I can make you something,” Elyse asked and walked further into the bedroom.
She shook her head. “I feel like something is missing. Like a part of me has been torn out from the inside.”
Elyse sat down on the edge of the bed. “There is nothing missing, just different. You need to trust your instincts and in who you are now. You are still Marlee, my friend.”
“We are not friends,” she spat. “Our ancestors tolerated one another. Don’t pretend it was anything more than that.”
Elyse placed a delicate necklace in Marlee’s palm and closed her fingers around it. “I want you to have this and remember what it meant.”
Placid clear blue eyes assessed her. “That is in the past. We are of two different worlds now; worlds that exist in defiance of one another. We can never
be what we once were.”
“Then we will be what we can.”
Marlee turned away. “Why do you not hate me? I tried to kill you.”
“Because I choose to forgive.”
“I do not want nor deserve your forgiveness.”
“Maybe not, but you shall have it anyway.”
Elyse rose from where she sat. “We may carry the blood of our ancestors Marlee, but we don’t have to carry their fear and hate. That choice is ours.”
Before Marlee could respond, Elyse left the room and an aching quiet filled the space she’d vacated. She looked down at the pendant she’d given her. It was a small silver compass, a gift Marlee had given Elyse on her twenty-fifth birthday, to remind her that no matter where they journeyed, they would always find their way back to one another.
She sighed as she twisted the delicate silver chain around her finger. Tomorrow the prophecy would come to pass, and fate would decide if their journeys would continue or end forever.
Chapter 34
Nathan and Celeste rode in silence.
It was almost eleven when they entered the town. Brighton Hill looked as charming and unassuming as it always did. People were out with their dogs for late-night walks in the park and warm inviting light lit up the house windows. Cars wound their way through the streets oblivious to the evil about to descend on their little world.
They circled the town once before heading to a small motel located on its outskirts. Nathan had used his powers to convince the motel owner to allow them, and only them, lodging for the evening. Although he’d hesitated at first, Celeste reminded him it was in their best interest and breaking Coven rules at this point, was the least of their concerns.
The motel was inconspicuous. It sat far off the main road a few miles from the flour mill making it an ideal spot for a hundred plus out-of-towners to congregate.
The New York witches of both the Coven and the Syndicate got out of their cars.