by L. J. Smith
Maggie swallowed. Her heart was still thumping in that slow, heavy way. “What I don’t understand is why she had to set up a whole scenario to explain where he went. She let some rangers find her on the mountain, and she said that he fell down a crevasse. But if he was dead, why not just let him disappear?”
“I think I know the answer to that, at least,” Aradia said. “When Miles was fighting them off he said that his roommates knew he’d gone climbing with her. He said that if he didn’t come back, they’d remember that.”
Yes. It made sense. Everything made sense—except that Maggie still didn’t know what had become of him.
There was a long silence.
“Well, he was brave,” Jeanne said finally, and with unexpected seriousness. “If he did die, he went out the right way. We just ought to hope we can do the same.”
Maggie glanced at her, trying to read the angular features in the darkness. There was no trace of mockery or sarcasm that she could see.
Well, Cady’s changed into Aradia, Maiden of all the witches, and I’ve changed into the Deliverer—not that I’ve been much good at it, she thought. But I think maybe you’ve changed the most after all, Jeanne—
“You know, I don’t even know your last name,” she said to Jeanne, so abruptly and so much off the subject that Jeanne reared back a little.
“Uh—McCartney. It was—it is—McCartney.” She added, “I was fourteen when they got me. I was at the mall playing Fist of Death at the arcade. And I went to go to the bathroom, and it was down this long empty corridor, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a slave trader’s cart. And now you know everything,” she said.
Maggie put out a hand in the dimness, “Hi, Jeanne McCartney.” She felt the cold grip of slender, callused fingers, and she shook Jeanne’s hand. And then she just held on to it, and to Aradia’s soft warm fingers on the other side. The three of them sat together in the dark cell, slave, human, and witch Maiden—except that we’re really all just girls, Maggie thought.
“You didn’t tell me one thing,” Maggie said suddenly. “What’d they call you when you started working here? What was your job?”
Jeanne snorted. “Second Assistant Stable Sweeper. And now you know everything.”
• • •
Maggie didn’t think she could possibly sleep in a place like this, but after the three of them had sat quietly for a long time she found herself dozing. And when the rattle of the dungeon door startled her, she realized that she’d been asleep.
She had no idea what time it was—the flare was burning low. She could feel Aradia and Jeanne come awake beside her.
“Dinner?” Jeanne muttered.
“I just hope it’s not P.J.—” Maggie began, and then broke off as firm, determined steps sounded on the stone floor of the corridor.
She recognized the stride and she stood up to meet Delos.
He stood outside the cell, the dying torchlight flickering on his dark hair, catching occasional sparks off his golden eyes. He was alone.
And he didn’t waste time getting to the point.
“I came to see if you’ve decided to be reasonable,” he said.
“I’ve been reasonable from the beginning,” Maggie said quietly and completely seriously. She was searching his face and the slight link she felt between their minds at this distance, hoping to find some change in him. But although she felt turmoil that was almost anguish, she also felt the steel of his resolve.
I won’t let you be killed. Nothing else matters.
Maggie felt her shoulders sag.
She turned slightly. Aradia and Jeanne were still sitting on the bench, Aradia motionless, Jeanne coiled and wary. But she could tell that they both felt this was her fight.
And they’re right. If I can’t do it, nobody can . . . But how?
“They’re people,” she said, gesturing toward the other girls, but watching Delos’s face. “I don’t know how to get you to see that. They matter, too.”
He hardly glanced back at them. “In the time of darkness that is coming,” he said, as carefully as if reciting a lesson, “only the Night People will survive. The ancient forces of magic are rising. They’ve been asleep for ten thousand years, but they’re waking up again.”
A low voice, not belligerent, but not afraid either, came from the back of the cell. “Some of us believe that humans can learn to live with magic.”
“Some of you are idiots and fools and are going to die,” Delos said, without even looking.
He stared at Maggie. She stared back at him. They were willing each other as hard as possible to understand.
And I think he’s got a stronger will, Maggie thought, as she broke the locked gaze and looked away, thumping the heel of a clenched fist against her forehead.
No. That’s not right. I’m Steely Neely and I never give up.
If I tell him that some things are worth dying for . . .
But I don’t think he’s afraid to die. He’s just afraid for me. And he just won’t listen if I say that I’d rather die than see some things happen. But that’s the truth. There are some things that you just can’t allow to happen, whatever the cost. There are some things that have just got to be stopped.
She froze, and the cell seemed to disappear around her.
She was seeing, in her mind’s eye, an equally dark and uncomfortable little cart. And her own voice was saying, Jeanne. It’s got to stop.
Feeling very light-headed, she turned toward the bench. “Jeanne? Come over here.”
Jeanne straightened and walked up doubtfully. She looked into Maggie’s face.
Maggie looked at her and then at Delos.
“Now you show him,” she said in a voice that was like her own voice, but older and much grimmer, “what his Night People do to slaves who try to escape. Like you showed me.”
Jeanne’s expression was inscrutable. She went on staring at Maggie for a moment, then she raised her eyebrows and turned around.
She was wearing the same slave tunic she had been wearing for the last four days. She lifted it up in the same way and showed Delos her back.
He took one look and reeled back as if she’d hit him.
Maggie was braced, but even so the backlash of his shock and horror nearly swamped her. She grabbed on to the iron bars of the cell and waited it out, teeth gritted while her vision went from black to red to something like a normal gray.
“Who did this?” Delos managed finally, in a voice like ground glass. He was dead white, except for his eyes, which looked black in contrast. “Who?”
Jeanne dropped her tunic. “I thought you didn’t care about vermin.” And she walked away without answering him, leaving him speechless.
Maggie watched her sit down, then turned back.
“Some things have got to be stopped,” she said to Delos. “Do you see what I mean? Some things you just can’t let go on.”
And then she waited.
I knew he didn’t know that kind of thing was happening, she thought, feeling vaguely glad in a very tired, sad, and distant way. But it’s good to see it proved.
The silence stretched endlessly.
Delos was still staring at Jeanne. He had run a hand through his hair at some point; it was disheveled and falling over his forehead. The skin of his face seemed to be stretched very tight and his eyes were burning gold.
He looked as if he’d completely lost his bearings, and he didn’t know what to trust anymore.
And then he looked at Maggie.
She was still standing there, waiting and watching. Their eyes met and she realized suddenly that she’d never seen him so vulnerable—or so open.
But if there was one thing Prince Delos had, it was resolution. After another moment of helplessness, she saw him straighten his shoulders and draw himself up.
And, as usual, he got directly to the point.
“You’re right,” he said simply. “And I was wrong. There are some things that have got to be stopped.”
Magg
ie leaned against the bars and smiled.
“I’ll get the key,” he said, and then went on, briskly planning. “I want the three of you out of the castle, at least, before I confront Hunter.”
“You can’t do it alone,” Maggie began. She should have known he’d immediately start arranging everybody’s life again. “Especially not with your power blocked—”
“There’s no reason for you to be in any more danger than you have to be,” he said. “I’ll send you off with some of my people who can be trusted—”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a voice said from the corridor.
It gave Maggie a horrible jolt. They were all tired, and all caught up in the moment, and none of them had seen the figure until it was almost behind Delos.
Hunter Redfern was standing there smiling. Sylvia was behind him. And behind them, crowded together, were armed guards.
“We’ve had to dispose of the few idiots who insisted on remaining loyal to you,” Hunter said amiably. His eyes were shining like the purest gold. “The castle is now under our control. But do go on with your plans, it’s very sweet to hear you trying to save each other.”
“And it’s no use trying to pretend,” Sylvia added spitefully. “We heard everything. We knew you couldn’t be trusted, so we let you come down here on purpose, to see what you’d say.”
For someone who’d known Delos a while, she didn’t understand him very well, Maggie thought. Maggie could have told her that pretending was the last thing that would occur to Delos. Instead he did what Maggie knew he would; he launched himself at Hunter Redfern’s throat.
Delos was young and strong and very angry—but it was no contest. After Sylvia had squeaked and withdrawn, the guards all came to help Hunter. After that it was over quickly.
“Put him in with his friends,” Hunter said, brushing off his sleeves. “It’s a real pity to see my only surviving heir come to this,” he added, once Delos had been kicked and thrown into the cell. For a moment there was that note of genuine feeling in his voice that Maggie had heard before. Then the golden eyes went cold and more bitter than ever. “I think tomorrow morning we’ll have a very special hunt,” he said. “And then there will be only three Wild Powers to worry about.”
This time, when the guards left, they took all the flares with them.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie whispered, trying to inspect Delos’s bruises by touch alone. “Delos, I’m sorry . . . I didn’t know . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, holding her hands. “It would have happened eventually anyway.”
“For a vampire, you didn’t put up much of a fight,” Jeanne’s voice came from the back of the cell.
Maggie frowned, but Delos turned toward her and spoke without defensiveness. “That witch bound more than just the blue fire when she put this spell on my arm,” he said. “She took all my vampire powers. I’m essentially a human until she removes it.”
“Aradia?” Maggie said. “Can you do anything? I mean, I know only Sylvia is supposed to be able to take the spell off, but . . .”
Aradia knelt beside them, graceful in the darkness. She touched Delos’s arm gently, then sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Even if I were at full power, there’s nothing I could do.”
Maggie let out her breath.
“That’s the only thing I regret,” Delos said. “That I can’t save you.”
“You have to stop thinking about that,” Maggie whispered.
She was filled with a strange resignation. It wasn’t that she was giving up. But she was very tired, physically and emotionally, and there was nothing she could do right now. . . .
And maybe nothing ever, she thought dimly. She felt something steadying her and realized it was Delos’s arm. She leaned against him, glad of his warmth and solidity in the darkness. There was a tremendous comfort in just being held by him.
Sometimes just having fought is important, she thought. Even if you don’t win.
Her eyelids were terribly heavy. It felt absolutely wonderful to close them, just for a moment . . .
She only woke up once during the night, and that was because of Delos. She could sense something in him—something in his mind. He seemed to be asleep, but very far away, and very agitated.
Was he calling my name? she wondered. I thought I heard that . . .
He was thrashing and muttering, now. Maggie leaned close and caught a few words.
“I love you . . . I did love you . . . always remember that . . .”
“Delos!” She shook him. “Delos, what are you doing?”
He came awake with a start.
“Nothing.”
But she knew. She remembered those words—she’d heard them before she had actually met Delos on the mountain.
“It was my dream. You were . . . going back in time somehow, weren’t you? And giving me that dream I had, warning me to get away from this valley.” She frowned. “But how can you? I thought you couldn’t use your powers.”
“I don’t think this took vampire powers,” he said, sounding almost guilty. “It was more—I think it was just the bond between us. The soulmate thing. I don’t even know how I did it. I just—went to sleep and started dreaming about the you of the past. It was as if I was searching for you—and then I found you. I made the connection. I don’t know if it’s ever been done before, that kind of time travel.”
Maggie shook her head. “But you already know it didn’t work. The dream didn’t change anything. I didn’t leave as soon as I woke up in the cart, because I’m here. And if I had left, I would never have met you, and then you wouldn’t have sent the dream. . . .”
“I know,” he said, and his voice was tired and a bit forlorn. He sounded very young, just then. “But it was worth a try.”
CHAPTER 19
The hunt of your lives,” Hunter Redfern said. He was standing handsome and erect, smiling easily. The nobles were gathered around him, and Maggie even saw some familiar faces in the crowd.
That rough man from Delos’s memories—the one who grabbed his arm, she thought dreamily. And the woman who put the first binding spell on him.
They were crowded in the courtyard, their faces eager. The first pale light was just touching the sky—not that the sun was visible, of course. But it was enough to turn the clouds pearly and cast an eerie, almost greenish luminescence over the scene below.
“Two humans, a witch, and a renegade prince,” Hunter proclaimed. He was enjoying himself hugely, Maggie could tell. “You’ll never have another chance at prey like this.”
Maggie gripped Delos’s hand tightly.
She was frightened but at the same time strangely proud. If the nobles around Hunter were expecting their prey to cower or beg, they were going to be disappointed.
They were alone, the four of them, in a little empty space in the square. Maggie and Aradia and Jeanne in their slave clothes, Delos in his leggings and shirtsleeves. A little wind blew and stirred Maggie’s hair, but otherwise they were perfectly still.
Aradia, of course, was always dignified. Just now her face was grave and sad, but there was no sign of anger or fear in it. She stood at her full height, her huge clear eyes turned toward the crowd, as if they were all welcome guests that she had invited.
Jeanne was more rumpled. Her red hair was disheveled and her tunic was wrinkled, but there was a grim smile on her angular face and a wild battle light in her green eyes. She was one prey that was going to fight, Maggie knew.
Maggie herself was doing her best to live up to the others. She stood as tall as she could, knowing she would never be as impressive as Aradia, or as devil-may-care as Jeanne, but trying at least to look as if dying came easy to her.
Delos was magnificent.
In his shirtsleeves, he was more of a prince than Hunter Redfern would ever be. He looked at the crowd of nobles who had all promised to be loyal to him and were now thirsting for his blood—and he didn’t get mad.
He tried to talk
to them.
“Watch what happens here,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the square. “And don’t forget it. Are you really going to follow a man who can do this to his own great-grandson? How long is it going to be before he turns on you? Before you find yourselves in front of a pack of hunting animals?”
“Shut him up,” Hunter said. He tried to say it jovially, but Maggie could hear the fury underneath.
And the command didn’t seem to make much sense. Maggie could see the nobles looking at each other—who was supposed to shut him up, and how?
“There are some things that have to be stopped,” Delos said. “And this man is one of them. I admit it, I was willing to go along with him—but that was because I was blind and stupid. I know better now—and I knew better before he turned against me. You all know me. Would I be standing here, willing to give up my life for no reason?”
There was the tiniest stirring among the nobles.
Maggie looked at them hopefully—and then her heart sank.
They simply weren’t used to thinking for themselves, or maybe they were used to thinking only of themselves. But she could tell there wasn’t material for a rebellion here.
And the slaves weren’t going to be of any help, either. The guards had weapons, they didn’t. They were frightened, they were unhappy, but this kind of hunt was something they’d seen before. They knew that it couldn’t be stopped.
“This girl came to us peacefully, trying to keep the alliance between witches and vampire,” Delos was saying, his hand on Aradia’s shoulder. “And in return we tried to kill her. I’m telling you right now, that by spilling her innocent blood, you’re all committing a crime that will come back to haunt you.”
Another little stirring—among women, Maggie thought. Witches, maybe?