“Wait,” came Cassia’s voice from the doorway.
Rhiannon had to tilt her head to see the witch make her way through the crowd until she stood at the center. She held what looked like a water flagon made from red clay. It had a pot belly, a long, long neck, and a handle that spanned the distance from the back of the pour spout to the widest part of the flagon.
Rhiannon frowned. Something about Cassia looked different, but she couldn’t quite place it. By the Ancestors, it seemed like Cassia changed daily. She no longer resembled the bumbling D’Anu apprentice she had pretended to be before the battle of Samhain.
“The Great Guardian has sent a precious gift.” Cassia held up the large flagon as well as a tiny chalice with a bowl about the size of a big thimble. “She has made this elixir from the rare Amarant of Otherworld, the exceedingly powerful forbearer of our world’s Amaranth.”
She moved her gaze to the key leaders of the PSF and D’Danann, and looked at her Coven sisters. “Have every one of the PSF officers, the D’Danann, and the D’Anu drink from this and their souls will be protected from Ceithlenn.” Cassia raised the small cup. “Only drink what fills this chalice.”
Rhiannon winced from the name, but at the same time remembered her vision of the Great Guardian tending to the purple flower in her garden. A bud that sparkled with magic.
Everyone was silent for a moment. “Wow.” Copper thumped her cast onto the floor as she stood and walked toward Cassia. “Solves that little problem.”
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Jake glanced at his watch again. “Pass that thing around.”
While everyone was taking their share of the potion, they continued strategizing.
Mackenzie’s gaze darted from one witch to the next. “If she brings her friggin’ army, I don’t think there will be enough of us to take care of them all.”
“We need to ask for Anu’s and the Elementals’ assistance.” Alyssa visibly swallowed and Rhiannon could tell her friend was afraid of going into a big battle. It didn’t take a seer’s skills to be sure of that.
Galia took the tiniest of sips at Cassia’s direction.
Rhiannon drank her share of the potion from the small chalice. It tasted like blackberry syrup.
When she passed it on, she took a deep breath and addressed the whole room, hoping Alyssa would listen to her words. She wouldn’t and couldn’t order her friend around, because Rhiannon herself didn’t like to be told what to do. But she tried to get her to take another option.
“We can’t leave our headquarters and store unprotected.” Rhiannon said. “Some D’Danann and perhaps a witch or two need to stay behind.”
The witches argued that all of them needed to be at the stadium. Cassia could guard the store as she usually did—her magic was the strongest out of them all.
Rhiannon looked at Alyssa. “I’m going, too,” Alyssa said, and Rhiannon sighed.
“She’s bound to be ticked off after our attack on her place. Not to mention she was weakened.” Sydney adjusted her glasses. “We know she has an agenda. If she collects a huge amount of souls she’ll be strong enough to bring Balor to San Francisco and that would so not be good.”
“One question,” Mackenzie said. “If Ceithlenn does bring a portion of her army, or even all of it, how is she going to get them inside undetected?”
“Host bodies.” Silver rubbed her arms with her hands as if she had chill bumps. “No doubt the demons will be in the stands, posing as spectators.”
Rhiannon slowly nodded. “They could already have infiltrated stadium security. They could attack us at any time.” Jake raked his hand through his short hair, ruffling it. “We’ll have to handle this without informing security. They’re not going to be happy about it.”
“None of us like any of this.” Rhiannon clenched her hands into fists. “What about the public’s reaction to finding out that an evil goddess bitch from Underworld is responsible, if she’s successful?”
“They’d laugh the local law enforcement out of the city if we come out with that kind of statement.” Jake shook his head. “People won’t believe it until the city is overrun with demons—which is exactly what’s going to happen if we don’t take Ceithlenn down.”
Rhiannon twisted her gold-and-onyx ring. “They could even think we are terrorists when we try to stop her, if we’re not successful.”
“We’d better get it right the first time,” Jake said with a determined expression.
* * *
A droplet of sweat rolled down the side of Rhiannon’s face during the trip to the stadium. It was cramped in the PSF truck—one of several that were on their way to the baseball park.
The witches and their familiars—all of the animals had been temporarily protected by glamours—stayed together because they believed they worked better as a team. Their goal was to get to Ceithlenn while the others fought off any attacks. They had no doubt the goddess wouldn’t be alone.
Jake had worked out their covert operation with select friends in the SFPD and other law enforcement agencies. He tried to keep things undercover best as possible so that they’d have backup that wouldn’t be blocked by a Fomorii in a host body in a position of power.
Rhiannon hoped none of Jake’s contacts were now demons.
After what happened at the theater, the mere mention of a potential attack would have every law enforcement agency scrambling if they spread the word everywhere. But what could they do against the goddess? At least Rhiannon’s team was prepared to fight, and each was protected against getting their souls sucked dry.
Rhiannon flexed her hands, ready for a spellfire attack, and Spirit gave a meow from where he sat on her lap. She concentrated on her magic, still feeling infused with power from the earlier ritual.
Spirit’s magic enhanced her own, but she worried about the familiar being in the middle of the battle. However, the witches could use their familiars’ strengths and magical powers.
The public, of course, had no idea what had truly happened to the people in the theater, or those on the tour bus. The taste of fear in the city was strong and grew more so as each day progressed.
Everyone continued to wonder what had shriveled the bodies so badly their families and friends would never be able to recognize their remains. The only thing that had identified most were forms of ID in their possessions and dental records.
Already a rally for sometime during the week had been organized, and talk shows and news programs around the world were speculating over what was now being called the Movie Theater Massacre.
Theories on news radio and on television were that it must have been a biochemical terrorist attack using some kind of virus or gas even though HAZMAT had found no airborne threat.
Only the PSF, the witches, and the D’Danann knew the truth of it.
Everyone in the truck was quiet. The PSF officers were armed to the teeth, from the rifles they carried to weapons belts. The belts held extra magazines containing the special bullets Jake had shown her, as well as knives, handguns, and other things she wasn’t sure about.
The PSF officers also wore riot gear. Along with their protective clothing, they wore Kevlar vests, kneepads, and gloves. The witches wore as much protection as the PSF officers with the exception of the gloves.
They arrived at the stadium about fifteen minutes before the scheduled start of the game. The unmarked PSF trucks each backed up to one of seven side entrances around the ballpark that the public didn’t have access to.
With the truck doors opened directly into the entrances, the witches, familiars, and officers were able to unload into the stadium and make their way to their stations. Rhiannon clutched Spirit close to her chest.
Every time Rhiannon passed a security guard or other stadium employee, she couldn’t help but wonder if the person was actually a demon in a host body. Unfortunately, when in their host bodies, they couldn’t be scented. They just smelled like the person’s body that they inhabited.
When they arrived at their
stations, Rhiannon gripped Spirit tight to her. Chaos, Sydney’s Doberman, sat quietly at her side. He had a Doberman’s protective instincts and would viciously attack when his mistress was faced with danger. He was a goof when not in a serious situation.
Rhiannon had a good vantage point as they waited against the walls of entrances that led onto the field. The players were warming up but her heart chilled to think any of them could be murdered by Ceithlenn—that any single person here could be taken by the goddess.
She glanced up at the sky and saw some D’Danann circling over the stadium. Others would be perched strategically throughout the ballpark. As long as their wings were exposed they could remain invisible to human sight if they chose to. Unfortunately, like the witches when they pulled glamours, the D’Danann stayed visible to magical beings, including the Fomorii.
She held one hand to that place on her breastbone where Ceithlenn’s magic had struck her. It felt only slightly sensitive to the touch beneath her T-shirt and Kevlar vest. The wound was healing quickly due to the fact she was a witch.
A wiggling in Rhiannon’s jacket made her jump. When Galia’s little face peeked out of Rhiannon’s pocket, she almost bopped the Faerie on her head for scaring her. Spirit, who was still in Rhiannon’s arms, hissed and batted at Galia with his paw, but she ducked.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” Rhiannon whispered.
“You know I sipped the potion, too.” Galia looked up at Rhiannon and edged far out of Spirit’s reach to the opposite end of the pocket. “Everyone fights. Including me.”
“Of course.” Rhiannon peered back at the ball field before looking at Galia again. “I just didn’t know you were in my pocket. Like I said before, it isn’t fair to ask you to stay behind when the rest of us insist we have the right to kick that goddess’s ass.”
“Exactly.” Galia climbed out of Rhiannon’s pocket and flew up to her shoulder. The Faerie was wearing her skintight black fighting outfit.
The PSF officer next to Rhiannon blinked and squinted at Galia. “Is she a Faerie?”
Galia fluttered her pink wings, spilling pink dust and hints of lilac. She snorted at him. “I am most certainly not a demon.”
Rhiannon turned her attention back to the field. It was an unusually warm San Francisco day and it caused her skin to tingle, which only reminded her of her father and her failure to get the Drow to help them.
Only a few clouds streaked the cerulean blue sky. The scent of freshly mowed grass carried on a light breeze, along with the plastic and metallic smells of the weaponry and clothing the PSF officers wore and carried.
Rhiannon almost wished for one of their ballistic shields, but she knew it would hamper her magic, and she could throw up a spellshield whenever she needed it—as long as she wasn’t caught off guard.
Her breathing rate picked up as she waited. Waited for a sign. Waited for Ceithlenn.
A popular rock singer sang the national anthem and Rhiannon automatically stood straighter. Her gaze roved the stadium. She wanted to cry at the thought of all of these people being taken away from their families, their friends. Age, race—none of that would matter to Ceithlenn. She would take every soul she could.
We have to stop her! We have to!
Team pennants waved in the crowd. The State of California flag snapped in the breeze next to the American flag. People shouted and whistled.
A massive LED screen flashed pictures of people in the crowds and the spectators would cheer when they saw themselves on the big screen. The kiss cam spotted couples and flashed their images, and the pair usually laughed and kissed.
Vendors walked up and down aisles selling popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs, ice cream, and cotton candy. Even from where she was standing, Rhiannon could smell it all.
The governor of California walked out onto the field to make the first pitch. Rhiannon’s heart nearly stopped beating.
Not her, too!
Rhiannon held her breath from the time the governor pitched the ball until she left the field with the roar of the crowd following in her wake.
By the time all the players from both teams were on the field, Rhiannon was trembling. This was so wrong. Dear Anu, this was wrong. None of this should be happening.
The Giants’ pitcher finished conferring with the coach and the catcher and started to make his way to his position.
The scars on Rhiannon’s cheek burned, pain spiked through her head, and her heart thrummed against her breastbone.
Ceithlenn materialized on the pitcher’s mound.
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A collective gasp rolled through the stadium when the flame-haired, red-eyed, bat-winged goddess became visible.
Pain screamed through Rhiannon’s head and her heart beat in her throat as she readied herself to run onto the field as boos, jeers, and hoots came from the crowd. Ceithlenn looked like a Halloween reject.
“On my mark,” Jake said through the transmitters in their ears. Like a football quarterback throwing a pass to his receiver, he lobbed what he called a flash-bang. It arced through the air and landed in the grass only feet from the goddess.
Rhiannon closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands just as the 170-decibel object, with intense flare, detonated.
Jake had said it would temporarily blind and deafen anyone within close range and might buy them some much needed time.
Despite the fact she’d had her hands over her ears when the flash-bang exploded her ears rang and spots flashed in front of her eyes.
Her gaze immediately went to the goddess.
Ceithlenn was still standing there.
The goddess stretched out one of her hands and rotated on the mound. All of the players, coaches, batboys, and umpires froze in whatever positions they had ended up in as a result of the flash bang.
They looked like wax dummies out on the playing field.
“Dinner for my army.” Ceithlenn’s voice echoed throughout the stadium as if she were speaking with a microphone. “And you all are dinner for my soul. Your sacrifices will bring my love back to me.”
A rumble of disbelief, anger, and fear traveled through the crowd.
“We’ll give her an appetizer,” Jake growled through the earpiece. “Archer. RPG, go!”
A thunk and a hiss as the rocket-propelled grenade launcher sent one of its deadly missiles right at Ceithlenn.
A force field shimmered around the goddess as she whipped her gaze toward the oncoming danger.
The grenade hit the shield and exploded—and did nothing to the goddess.
She dropped her shield and pointed her fingers right at Jake and the witches. Rhiannon’s heart jumped. She felt as if something was trying to suck her through some kind of vortex. But then she felt nothing.
The goddess screamed with fury on her face and turned back to the crowd that seemed confused. Rhiannon could almost hear their thoughts—was this some kind of pregame show?
“Move, move, move!” Jake shouted in Rhiannon’s earpiece. Spirit bounded from her arms as Rhiannon bolted from the entrance.
Ceithlenn spread her arms and her wings wide as she stared at the crowd.
PSF officers holding their ballistic shields charged onto the field, the witches right beside them with their familiars.
At the same time, countless people swarmed from the stands—
And shifted into Fomorii as they bounded onto the field with shrieks and roars.
Rhiannon’s gut churned. They had to get to Ceithlenn! Had to stop her!
But the pitcher’s mound was far from all the entrances the PSF and witches charged from.
And the Fomorii were so damn fast. They scampered, ran, bounded—so many different types of beasts. Their claws, tipped with iron, glinted in the sunlight.
The field smelled of smoke, sweat, burnt sugar, and the demons’ rotten fish stench. And death. It already smelled of death.
Screams came from the now panicked crowd, but the sounds started to die away. Rhiannon glanced up into the stands. She
could see the people closer to the field slump in their seats and wither as white, gray, and black puffs of smoke rushed to the goddess.
Other people higher up screamed and started to stampede from the building. Some escaped, but others froze in their places like mummies. The stands grew quieter and quieter. Still screams and shouts, but everything was gradually becoming silent.
Dear Anu, how had Ceithlenn done it so quickly?
“No!” Heat flushed Rhiannon and she gathered a huge spellfire ball while she bolted toward Ceithlenn. She dug into her gray magic and felt the power of Anu within.
Rhiannon stopped short as a demon landed in her path.
She flung the spellfire she was carrying at the Fomorii’s face. The orange demon screeched as its head went up in flames. In the next second a sword sliced the head from the demon’s body. Rhiannon met Keir’s eyes and saw the intense, furious look on his face.
“Help me!” she shouted over the fighting. “Together we can work toward getting to Ceithlenn.”
Keir gave a sharp nod. In almost perfect choreography, they fought off one demon and then another and another. Spirit did his part by jumping on the heads of attacking demons and clawing their eyes completely out just long enough for Rhiannon and Keir to do away with the beast.
Beside them, Jake took a two-fisted stance with his handgun and with a single shot blew a mammoth hole in the chest of a Fomorii, obliterating its heart. No sooner had the beast crumbled to silt than Jake took down another demon.
One Fomorii came at Jake from his back and Rhiannon flung a spellfire ball that caused its feet to fly out from under it. Jake whirled, planted his foot on the demon’s chest, and fired at its heart with his handgun.
From behind their ballistic shields, other PSF officers fired off rounds of the special heart-seeking bullets at the Fomorii. Rhiannon saw one officer go down on his back when a demon pounced on his shield. It swiped its fierce claws at the downed man, but another officer shot the demon, wiping it out.
Other officers used the enhanced tasers, dropping some of the demons long enough to shoot them, or giving a D’Danann warrior time to behead the beast.
The Wicked Page 28