“I thought you had other plans to get Dixon to give up Rowena’s whereabouts. I had no other leads to follow, so I came here. I expected you’d call for me immediately, but . . . you didn’t. Now days have passed. If Rowena has escaped—”
“It’s not Rowena that concerns me,” she interrupted. “Rowena is dead.”
“Then who was the woman with Dixon? And what of the child the old people talked about?”
“I don’t know who the woman was, but the child was Rowena’s own.”
“So now what?”
Grimacing, Lilith approached. “Well, it seems I can’t trust you to get the job done, so I no longer require your services.”
He looked long and hard at her. “Very well. Am I excused?”
She held out her hand. “I’ll take the grut call.”
He handed it over.
She drew forward, her face inches from his, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are excused, but don’t get any ideas. If you or any of your men speak a word of this to anyone, you will regret it.”
He turned on his heel and left, closing the door firmly behind.
Lilith paced. What to do? What to do?
Plush rugs covered the center of the wide palace hallway, muting the sounds of her steps. Portraits of former leaders of the Select hung on the walls. She stopped at the painting of her mother. She’d have to get someone to remove it. The constant reminder of the woman’s betrayal in having given birth to Rowena was something Lilith could live without—and the sooner, the better.
Rounding a corner in her haste, she nearly knocked a potted plant from a pedestal. She looked up. In the room at her side, Adele swept the floor. “Adele!” she called.
The young woman visibly cringed as she turned.
“This needs cleaning up,” Lilith said. She pushed the pedestal. The pot teetered for a moment, then fell, shattering on impact. As it rolled, soil covered the freshly swept floor.
Adele’s mouth flew open.
Lilith flashed her humorless smile, the one derived from Daeva himself. “Right away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Conditioned to the woman’s rages, the maid immediately started in to her task. “Thank you, ma’am, for pointing that out to me.”
Lilith stopped in her tracks and turned back. She grabbed Adele by the forearm and pulled her forward. “Are you mocking me?”
“No, ma’am.”
Lilith pushed her. “See that you don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
When Lilith arrived at the servants’ wing, she nodded to the man watching Dixon’s room. She’d hoped that placing Dixon under house arrest would make him more amenable to assisting her. Now she had to break down his guard.
She considered whether she should try kindness first, or whether she should go straight to the torture. Along with the constant burning Daeva left within her, vibrations of his power ran down her spine, but she was leery about using that power, as Dixon would wonder at its source.
The guard opened the door. She stepped inside.
Dixon sat at a table, a book open before him, his lamp burning. He glanced her way, then turned back to his reading.
Was he dismissing her? The audacity! Even so, she’d first try a peaceful approach. She would try to enchant him. He was a man, after all. She would turn his head, his mind.
“Dixon,” she said, sweetness dripping like tree sap, “how are they treating you?”
He turned to her and stared, one brow raised. His mouth dropped open. “How are they treating me? Hah! You can’t be serious. Why the charade?”
“Oh, Dixon, you always were prone to the dramatic. May I?” she asked as she pulled out a chair.
He shrugged.
She sat, then leaned forward, causing the front of her crimson silk dress to drape open, revealing her cleavage. It was as though she’d practiced this very move in front of a mirror.
He averted his eyes.
She put her hand on his arm.
He drew away. “What do you want?”
“Can’t I just want to see you?” she whined. “You were away for so long and . . . Well, Dixon,” she said, now putting her hand on his knee, “I missed you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He removed her hand and placed it firmly on the table. He stood, his arms folded. “When are you going to unband me, Lilith? And when are you going to let me out of here?”
“I’m not.”
“Then I’ve nothing to say to you.”
She willed herself to stay calm. “Well, Dixon, I think you do have something to say. You see, I’ve received some rather dist—ahhh . . . interesting news.”
“Oh? What’s that?” His eyes narrowed.
“You said Rowena died in childbirth.”
“That’s right.”
“So when were you going to tell me that the child lives?”
He blinked hard. “Wh—what are you talking about?”
“Oh, really, Dixon. I’m not stupid,” she pouted. “All right, I was a bit slow—I admit it. I should have caught on right away. But now that I know—”
“Caught on?” He sat.
“Well of course—caught on. Rowena swore she wouldn’t release her power until after her seventh was born. Had she not done so, her powers would have reverted to me.” She crossed her legs. “But you see, they have not.” She glared in open hostility.
“Are you sure?”
“Most certainly. So you see, that can only mean that she released her power—that she bore her child.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely. And that’s why I need you to tell me about her. So, where is she, Dixon?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you admit it. The child lives.”
He hesitated. “Suppose, for the sake of argument, that you’re right. Why would you want the child anyway? You hate children.” He got back to his feet and paced.
“I don’t hate children.”
“Sure you do.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, and that’s why you were so good with your own that Rowena had to take him from you?”
“Stop trying to change the subject.” Glowering at him, she exhaled slowly. “In any case, it’s irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant?”
“What I mean is that it’s important we raise the child here. Rowena’s sisters and I will see to her proper upbringing. How else will she learn of her role?”
“She?”
“Well of course, ‘she.’ Rowena used every trick there was to be certain she had only girls. So tell me, where is she? She needs to be here where we can instruct her, where we can help her to acquire the tools necessary to lead.”
“The tools?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What kind of tools?”
“Oh, never mind, Dixon, just tell me where the child is!”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you do.”
“I do not. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” He crossed his arms.
“So you’re saying the child does live, but you don’t know where she is or who is to raise her.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
She came within inches of him. “There are ways to make you talk.”
“Go ahead, Lilith, do your worst.”
She raised her brow. “Oh, Dixon, you are going to be very, very sorry you said that.”
He stepped back. “Fine. But you said yourself you’re without power, and you’re not the leader of the Select. So why not just let me go and leave Rowena’s plans in place?”
“Who says I’m without power?” With that, and with a twist of her wrist, Lilith threw out a taste of Daeva’s power. She gloried in the release of the heat that burned within her. Like a strike of lightning, the air snapped.
Dixon’s body slammed against the wall. Blood dripped down to his ear and across his cheek. He tried to right himself, but then dropped forward, landing on his knees. His
clothing burned, his skin blistered. Choking for breath, he stared at Lilith.
She smiled. For a moment, the freakish gaping grin of a long dead corpse stared back at him.
He made his way to his feet. He tottered, but held his ground.
She threw out more pain. “Is that not enough for you, Dixon?” she mocked, willing the heat to increase.
He staggered. He struggled for breath. “Stop—it,” he finally managed to utter.
“Tell me what I need to know,” she insisted. “Where is the child? Has she an Oathtaker? Is it you? Is it someone else? Who was the woman with you and the child?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“Oh, I think you know quite a lot.”
He gasped for air.
She drew back the pain. “Is that better?” She pressed against him. “I can make it go away, you know.” She took his face in her hands, drew her finger through the blood that trickled down his cheek, then put her finger in her mouth and sucked on it.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “Shall I make it go away, Dixon? Shall I?” Her lips were just inches from his. “Just say the word.” She ran her tongue up from his chin to his lips, licking at his blood.
“Stop it, Lilith,” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“Tell me what I need to know,” she whispered, “and I’ll make the pain go away.” Her lips touched his. “Then I’ll kiss away all your troubles. Would you like that, Dixon? Would you?”
He pushed her away. “I told you, I don’t know anything.”
Again she increased the torture.
He fell to his knees. “Stop it, Lilith.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She walked around him as he slumped to the floor. “Where is the child?”
He moaned and writhed.
Fearing he’d pass out, she again let up on the pressure. “Where is the child, Dixon? Where is she?”
He shook his head.
“Are you the child’s Oathtaker?”
“No. No!”
“See,” she sneered, “you do know something.”
He panted, his eyes closed.
Sensing he wavered in his resistance, she persisted. “Who is the child’s Oathtaker, Dixon?”
He strained against the pain. “Dear Ehyeh,” he cried, looking upward. Then, as if in answer to his prayer, he lost all consciousness.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The air was dusty, as was often the case during the dog days of summer. Along the marsh at the edge of the road a multitude of cattails bent in the breeze like a throng of worshipers in obeisance to the glory of their god. Open water, spotted with algae, dotted the landscape. Red winged blackbirds perched on tall grasses showed off their colorful shoulder patches as they chirped their high squeaky song.
Mara rode with Reigna, Nina to her left with Eden, Therese to her right. Jules took the lead. He kept a constant vigil for anything out of the ordinary, while Samuel brought up the rear, guarding against possible ambush from behind.
After a two day rest at The King’s Court, during which she’d not been able to repeat her sleep time travel, notwithstanding her efforts to do so, Mara agreed, at Therese’s encouragement, to head with her to Lucy’s. It would take weeks of dangerous travel over rough and unknown terrain for the small crew to cross the countryside. The journey would take them around the City of Light and then farther north.
Midday had come and gone. They would need to rest the horses soon, as they couldn’t risk injury to the animals. Moreover, the twins would need to nurse. Already Reigna grew restless, as witnessed by her increased whimpering, although as usual, Eden seemed to go along with little complaint.
Jules vanished over a rise ahead. Minutes later, he reappeared. Approaching the others at an easy pace, his eyes continually scanned the countryside. The women halted when he neared. As like a chorus, their mounts nickered and blew, signifying that it was time to stop.
“There’s a small wooded area just over that hill,” Jules said pointing, directing his comments to Therese. “It’s well concealed.” He patted his horse’s neck. “It’s time to stop for a rest.”
Within minutes they pulled into the resting place. Huge basswoods grew in clusters of a half dozen or more full-sized trunks. Their branches created a lacy canopy for things below. Their leaves, just beginning to wilt, attested to the fact that basswoods were among the first of the forest to lose their leaves in the autumn. Intermingled with them was the occasional oak and cherry tree.
Nina fed the girls while Mara and Therese prepared flat breads stuffed with cold meats and cheese.
After Samuel and Jules attended to the horses, watering two at a time at a nearby creek, they devoured their lunches quickly, then stood guard while the others ate.
“Any luck?” Therese asked Mara.
It was clear of what she spoke. Ever since traveling to Dixon, Mara had thought of little else. But the more she yearned to repeat her journey, the more difficult it was to sleep at all.
“No. The more I think on it, the harder it seems. I feel like the ability is almost there, it’s almost as though I can touch it, then it just . . . disappears.”
“Sometimes I find that the easiest way to accomplish something, is to take the pressure of possible success or failure from my mind. I just wait and let it happen.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
The birds and beasts of the air and field fluttered and nagged. The horses flicked their ears and swished their tails as the local flies discovered their presence.
“I’m going to wash up,” Mara said. “Maybe I’ll stick my feet in the water. We’ll get started again when everyone is through eating and the horses have cooled down.”
She sauntered down to the creek. Sunshine sparkled on the slowly moving water. A small twig made its way downstream and then, just where she stood, got caught up in an eddy. It twisted and twirled and popped up and down in its fight to escape its prison.
She sat in the tall grasses at the bank and took off her boots. She wiggled her toes and dipped them in the water, luxuriating in its coolness. Once done, she found a flat spot and leaned her head back facing the sun. Its light created a swirl of colors behind her eyelids peculiarly similar to what she experienced during her magic traveling.
The past days had been a dizzying rush of wonder and fear. From the moment she’d discovered Rowena, Mara’s life had changed. She’d been on her way to an Oathtakers’ meeting that morning. Did they wonder of her whereabouts? Had they sent a posse to find her?
She reclined, then put her knees up, flattening her lower back. She rubbed her feet against the waxy blades of grass, curling and releasing her toes.
A squirrel chattering noisily in a nearby tree scolded her for lying in its intended path. She smiled at the bossiness of the inconsequential rodent, then listened to a meadowlark singing in a nearby field. How lovely is his song.
Her mind wandered. She didn’t concentrate on where she was, or where she was going. She rode the wave of sound and light and heat and breeze and emptiness and color and . . .
Magic transported her. She was weightless, altered while simultaneously remaining unchanged.
She halted. All was silent. The sunlight’s intensity was no more. A sudden chill swept over her. She opened her eyes.
The floor was damp and dirty. Moisture trickled down the walls. The stink of mildew made it hard to breath. She tried to rid her nose of the smell. She was elated she’d journeyed again, though she wasn’t even asleep. She was simply at ease, relaxed, purposeful. She would have clapped her hands with joy, were it not so quiet.
She got to her knees, then glanced about.
Gracious Ehyeh, I’m not alone!
Several feet away lay a man who, it appeared, was sleeping. He was on his side, facing away. His form and size looked right. His build was right. The hair color, as well as Mara could tell in the light of the single burning candle nearby, was right. Could it be Dixon?
She placed a finger to he
r lips, then touched his arm.
He didn’t move.
She leaned closer. His hair was matted with blood. He was so still. Was he even breathing? Yes, but very shallowly. Once again she touched his arm, this time more aggressively.
Still, he did not move.
She rolled him onto his back.
“Dixon!” Dried blood covered his face. His lip was split open and swollen. Bruises decorated his eyes, his jaw, and his chest. “Oh, Dixon!” she whispered, a hand to her mouth. “What’s happened?”
A pitcher of water sat on the floor. Just as she reached for it, a sound came from behind. She spun around to find a door in the cramped space. It cracked open.
She stood and rushed to stand against the wall to its side. When it opened, it would hide her. Then, she reached for Spira. If the visitor intended harm, at least she’d have the advantage of surprise.
It was hard to make out the words coming from the other side of the door. Shaking with fear, she willed herself to breathe slowly. Her hands felt clammy. Relax. Relax.
“I told you, I’m going to see him,” a woman said as the door opened farther, allowing more light to enter the room. “Just go back to your post.”
That voice is familiar.
“But—”
“You heard me. Go back to your post.”
“But what about—”
“I don’t care what she says!” the woman cried as she stepped into the room and closed the door, then stood with her hands on it to hold it shut, her head bowed, and her eyes closed.
Mara stood just inches away.
The woman turned away. “Dixon!” she cried. She dropped down and leaned over him. She patted him gently on the cheek. “Wake up. I need to get you out of here. We’ll use the tunnel. I swear I’ll kill Lilith’s guards if that’s the only way around them. But, Dixon, I can’t carry you.” She wiped away a tear. “Please, please wake up,” she urged.
Mara could just make out a portion of the woman’s profile. Where had she seen her before? And that voice. I know that voice. Ah yes, it’s Basha.
Basha ministered to Dixon. Her touch was gentle, her voice pleading. “Dixon, please wake up. We have to get you out of here. Oh, what’ll we do? What’ll—”
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