Found

by P. C. Cast

  “Dear Odin, we recognize you. Were we not lovers several years ago?”

  His eyes were wide and stared at her—and Neferet was not distressed to see terror reflected in them.

  “Oh, we almost forgot. You cannot speak. That’s a shame, really. It would be lovely to reminisce. Tell us, do you find that we are much changed? You may nod or shake your head.”

  Slowly, Odin nodded. Twice.

  “So nice of you to notice, because indeed we have changed. We shall tell you a secret.” She glided closer to him and ignored the fact that he flinched away from her, pressing his back into the cold iron of the chair. “Your death is very important. It is going to provide information for us. Soon we will rule not just one world, but two, and you will have had a hand in that.” She was going to kiss him, but as she drew closer the revulsion in his eyes made Neferet angry. Instead, she reached out and cupped his face in her hands while her spidery fingers caressed his skin. As he shivered with disgust, Neferet lifted one sharp fingernail and slashed it down across his throat, severing his jugular vein.

  Odin’s body jerked spasmodically as Neferet held the urn to his neck to catch the spurting blood.

  “Keep him still, children!” she commanded.

  The dark tendrils wrapped around him until his weakening body stopped moving as his lifeblood pumped into the urn.

  It was over quickly, which pleased Neferet. She was in a hurry and, though she appreciated the concealing storm, she was beginning to tire of being drenched. She needed to feed and take a hot bath—and bring up another bottle of that lovely red she’d found a case of in the wine cellar.

  “So, we shall hurry, my darlings. Take the Warrior’s body into the hedges. As with the two humans, strip the meat from his bones. Feast, sweet children. Then pile his bones with the others. We will have need of them soon. But for now, begone. Feed. Then wait for our call.”

  Her children swarmed over the Warrior’s body, carrying it into the shadows as they fed. Neferet was pleased that the thunder and the downpour drowned the noise of it. She detested messy eaters. Then Neferet moved to stand beneath the nearby pergola where she was sheltered from the rain. There, she flung back her matted hair and smoothed her soaked silk dress—and hesitated, scenting the air around her.

  “She called them!” Neferet smiled, not entirely put out that the vampyre who carried her name and her old visage in another world also so obviously communed frequently with Old Magick. “We shall remember this when we are in that world. We will not underestimate her.”

  Neferet placed the urn at her feet and dipped her hand within, catching the warm, scarlet liquid in her palm. As she spoke her voice echoed with power into the night. Neferet flung the Warrior’s blood in a circle around her.

  “Sprites of olde, we summon you.

  Come to feast, if our will you agree to do.”

  The night was suddenly alight with glowing elementals. Neferet observed them silently. Most of them were water sprites. They caught the drops of blood before they hit the ground and then frolicked in the falling rain and splashed in the semifrozen water feature. A few air sprites hovered around the pergola after they, too, snatched the scarlet drops and stuffed them in their wide mouths.

  Neferet said nothing. She dipped her hand in the urn again and flicked more blood into the air.

  A large sprite materialized from the gnarled branches of the dormant wisteria that covered the pergola. Her skin was the color of bark. Her hair was maidenhair fern, which spread down her otherwise naked body. Her eyes were enormous and black as the shadows that surrounded them. The other elementals moved aside for her as she caught the new drops of blood in her fanged mouth, licked her lips, and then smiled at Neferet.

  “The Warrior’s blood is a treat

  and a lovely way for us to meet.

  I see you, Neferet, Goddess of all things Dark.

  Your entombment changed you—left its mark.”

  “Yes, well, it was certainly inconvenient, though it taught us well. To whom do we speak, noble sprite?”

  “Dark Goddess, you may call me Oak.

  Why is it me you did invoke?”

  Neferet dipped her head slightly in a respectful greeting, which Oak mirrored. Then Neferet said,

  “We have need of information fair,

  So, to the sprites we call—earth, water, fire, and air.”

  “Just words—that is all you seek?

  My curiosity indeed you do pique.”

  “Excellent,” Neferet said. Then she continued in the singsong cadence of Old Magick:

  “We wish to rule two worlds, not one.

  We need information for that to be done.”

  Oak nodded in understanding, a slight smile curved the edges of her mouth before she answered.

  “Ah, I know which world you do mean.

  From me, information fair you may glean.

  What payment do you offer, Goddess Dark,

  For information with which you shall make your mark?”

  Neferet gestured to the urn.

  “How long has it been since you’ve had warm Warrior’s blood on which to dine?

  Give us information we seek, and it shall be yours and no longer mine.”

  “I accept your payment for information fair.

  After I drink my fill, my knowledge with you I shall share and share …”

  Neferet nodded and stepped back and the sprite descended on the urn, lifting it and draining the blood in several long gulps. It dribbled from her mouth and down her chin and neck to mix with the rain as the lesser sprites darted in, catching the drops and lapping them up eagerly.

  After Oak was done gorging on the Warrior’s blood she wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her hand and bared her teeth in a feral smile at Neferet.

  “Ask me what information you seek

  now that I am paid, I am willing to speak.”

  Neferet began questioning the sprite, who was a font of knowledge. To Neferet’s delight, Oak even knew specifics about the Other World’s House of Night. The dark goddess had her children drag an iron chair into the pergola and fetch her a bottle of wine as well, so that she was comfortable as Oak talked and talked and talked.

  From the water feature, one very small sprite did not frolic with the others. She swam in the freezing water, pretending to enjoy worrying the sleeping koi, but instead, wee Denise listened and learned …

  25

  Other Lynette

  Lynette opened the front door of Balmacara Mains and squinted past Mrs. Muir at the single small dot of light that flickered against the backdrop of the dark loch. Their Imprint allowed her to share Neferet’s emotions, and Lynette had been awash in her conflict and anxiety since they’d returned to Scotland the day before. “How long has she been out there?”

  Mrs. Muir made a clucking sound deep in her throat then said, “Och, Herself hasnae moved for hours. It’s a foul, dreich day. She must be drookit.”

  “If that means soaking wet, then I agree with you.” Lynette sighed. “I’m going to try to get her to come inside.”

  “What is it I can do ta help ye?”

  “Put out a carafe of her favorite red wine and slice up some of your fresh bread with that delicious strawberry jam of yours. Have Noreen build a nice fire, and then make yourselves scarce. Our lady is highly upset. What I have to say to her she won’t want anyone overhearing.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Mrs. Muir touched her arm gently. “If anyone can pull Herself from this funk, ’tis you.”

  Lynette patted the old woman’s hand. “Thank you. I’ll try my best.”

  Mrs. Muir began to turn away and then stopped. “She doesnea have to be Goddess to hae us care for her. We’ve seen her magick—aye, we ken
her power. To us, she will always be Herself.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Muir. My lady appreciates your fidelity.”

  Mrs. Muir bobbed a curtsy before heading to the kitchen.

  Lynette went to Neferet’s suite and retrieved a warm plaid wrap and then grabbed a down coat from her own room. She put on the wellies waiting near the door, lit another lantern, and then made her way carefully across the dark, rocky beach. The constant, dreary rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up so that the remaining damp seemed to penetrate into her bones. Lynette liked Scotland—but that didn’t mean she liked the weather.

  “Hello, dearest.” Neferet didn’t turn as she spoke, but continued to stare out at the loch and the black outline of the Isle of Skye.

  Lynette wrapped the plaid around Neferet’s shoulders. “I hate that you’re out here in the cold and wet.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, but thank you.” Neferet glanced at her. “I know you’re worried—just as you know I am conflicted.”

  “Will you please talk about it with me? I can help—if for nothing else than to just be a sounding board. And you know how good I am at troubleshooting. Give me a chance. I don’t think there’s anything we can’t figure out together.”

  Neferet turned to face her. “I forget that I am not in this alone. It has been so very long since I had anyone who truly cared for me.” She paused and shook her head sadly. “Do you want the truth?”

  “Always.”

  “You are the first person I’ve had a real relationship with since my mother died when I was a teenager, just before I was Marked. I have not trusted anyone in that long. Forgive me for shutting you out.”

  “My lady, please come inside. Let’s talk about it.”

  Neferet nodded. “Yes, you’re right, dearest Lynette. But first, wait here a moment with me as I leave this offering for our wee Denise. My thoughts have turned to her often since we’ve been back. I—I believe I let her down. She gave her life for a quest in which I was unsuccessful.”

  “Through no fault of your own!” Lynette insisted. “My lady, you did not know the extent of that creature’s madness. You couldn’t have.”

  “But that is the problem. I should have known. I should have stopped and considered what would have happened to me should I have been entombed alive in darkness. I understand her madness. It would have been mine too. But I allowed the desire for power to blind me—and that cost wee Denise’s life as well as those five foolish young women.”

  “Those five weren’t much of a loss.”

  “Do not do that, dearest. Do not become so hard that killing no longer bothers you. Your ability to empathize with humans is part of what I love about you—part of what I need from you.”

  Lynette hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Neferet hugged her briefly and then said, “Now, I got this lovely blue ribbon from Mrs. Muir, who said it was Denise’s favorite color.” From the depths of the pocket in the long, plaid skirt she wore, Neferet brought out a few dried lavender sprigs that were tied together with a slender velvet ribbon the color of sapphires.

  “It’s fitting that she loved blue and is now a water sprite,” said Lynette.

  “It certainly is. Would you like to place it on the water for her?”

  Lynette shook her head. “Wee Denise would much rather it came from you.”

  Neferet walked the few feet to the edge of the sleepy loch. “Wee Denise, this is to remind you that your Neferet has not—and will never—forget you.” She bent and put the lavender and ribbon on the surface of the dark water, then she and Lynette watched it drift away, but before it went out of sight it shot up in a little geyser of water that morphed into a sprite that flickered many shades of blue and gray and yellow as it cavorted across the surface toward them. When the little creature reached the shore, it flew up and hovered before Neferet and Lynette.

  The sprite was the size of a woman’s fist. Its blue body was like a dragonfly’s, with a girl’s torso, and around its neck was the velvet ribbon as well as a delicate chain that held an occluded sapphire set in diamonds—the gift Neferet had given Denise before she’d sacrificed herself as payment to the sprites for opening the portal to the Other World.

  “Wee Denise! I am pleased you heard my call,” said Neferet, smiling for the first time since they’d left the horror that they had released at the other Woodward Park.

  “My lady! Och, I only have a moment to blether. I must warn ye of she who is thee.”

  “The Neferet from the Other World?” Lynette asked.

  “Aye, the monster. Oak is with her. She plans to come after ye. Beware, my lady! She willnae stop until ye and yur handmaid are dead.”

  A terrible chill filled Lynette’s blood. “How soon? Is she coming here now?”

  “I dinnae ken when—but soon! Soon!” The little sprite stopped speaking and her oversized eyes grew wide. “I must off! I fear what will happen if Oak catches me! Beware, my lady! Beware!” And wee Denise disappeared with a wet plop.

  Neferet’s brow furrowed and she stared out at the water grimly before she lifted her chin and her expression cleared. “Come, dearest. We must talk. And we will need those news stories you brought with us from the Other World.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Quickly and silently, they went back to the manor house. Lynette tried not to be paranoid, but she had a terrible crawly feeling along the back of her neck like she was being watched.

  Mrs. Muir had done exactly as had been requested, and after Lynette and Neferet changed into warm bathrobes they took their places before the fireplace—though neither touched the wine. Lynette put the file that held the copy of the stories about the immortal Neferet on the coffee table and then waited for her to speak.

  With no preamble, she began. “Dearest, when I faced the Monstress I knew immediately that I had made a mistake by counting on her to show me the path to immortality. That creature would never help me or anyone who was not her servant—and even then, help would only be offered if it benefited her.”

  Lynette nodded, but remained silent, though that was exactly what she had feared after reading the events that had led up to that Neferet’s entombment.

  “When I looked at her—at what she had become—I glimpsed, for just a moment—my future.”

  Lynette held her breath as nausea overwhelmed her.

  Neferet met her gaze. “I will not allow that to happen to me.”

  Lynette’s breath released in a sigh. “Oh, my lady, I am so glad.”

  “I can feel the seduction of it, the pull of it. Being in control means that no one will ever have the opportunity to hurt me or anyone I love—and what better control than to become a goddess?” Neferet sighed. “But witnessing what that creature has become shook me to my core and made me realize that I cannot allow myself to be such a whore to power that I sell my soul to achieve it. I have power. I have wealth. And, with you, I now have a family. I believe that might be enough for me to find not immortality—not dominance over all—but, perhaps, contentment in this lifetime, which is something I have not known since I was an un-Marked girl in Chicago dreaming of the kindness of a husband and a family of my own.”

  Lynette leaned forward eagerly. “I have an idea! While you were out today, I did some research, and I think you might like it.”

  “Tell me, dearest.”

  “First, I have to ask you a crass question.”

  Neferet’s dark brows lifted. “I am intrigued. Ask.”

  “How rich are you?”

  The vampyre’s full lips tilted up. “Very. I do not believe neither you nor I, even with our rather extravagant tastes, could spend close to all of what I have in several lifetimes. My money is very good at growing. I invest wisely.”

  “And no one can touch that money?”

  “No one except me.”

  “Good. M
y idea is for you to buy an island—something in the Mediterranean that harkens back to ancient times.”

  Neferet sat up straighter. “Capri was our capital before Pompeii exploded.”

  Lynette nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I found as I researched. My lady, there are many beautiful islands in the Mediterranean—developed islands. If you bought one, you could rule there—not as a goddess, but as a queen. We could populate it with artists, musicians, storytellers, dancers, and artisans. It would be a haven for lovely things. And everyone on your isle would be willing, loving subjects of its queen.”

  Neferet said nothing for a moment and then, very softly, said, “But would anyone come?”

  Lynette lifted the little silver bell that called Mrs. Muir, and the stout woman huffed into the sitting room. She curtsied stiffly, but her smile was warm. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Mrs. Muir, if Herself bought an island and built on it a villa—no, better—a castle, would you consider coming there with her? You would, of course, run the household and have a staff befitting your station, which would be that of a loyal and trusted subject of a queen—our Queen Neferet. The castle and island realm would be filled with artists, musicians, and such talent—and all would be under the patronage of Herself. Would you come, Mrs. Muir? Would you serve Queen Neferet?”

  “Och aya, it would be a bonnie dream come true.” She curtsied deeply to Neferet.

  Neferet stood and took Mrs. Muir’s hands, helping her up. “Thank you, dear Mrs. Muir.”

  “Och, well, ye didnae think I would let someone else cook for ye, did ye?”

  “No, of course not, Mrs. Muir.”

  “Weel, good ’en. Will there be anythin’ else this night?”

  “Not tonight, rest well until tomorrow,” Neferet said.

  Mrs. Muir bobbed her head and went from the room on feet that seemed lighter.