Covenkeepers

by Denise Gwen

  “Hello, Nana,” Bettina purred. “Are you well?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Bettina, darling, throw down your wand.”

  “It’ll make noise, Nana, if it hits the floor.”

  “That’s all right.” A glint rose up in Nana’s eye. “I’m ready for that guard.”

  With a lot of plaintive mews and meows, Bettina pushed her wand over the edge of the precipice, nudged it once with her paws, and then peered over the edge, watching with great interest as the wand flew to the floor below. At the moment when the wand would’ve made a dreadful clattering noise and immediately arrested the guard’s attention—with a ballerina’s agility and grace—Nana leaped up into the air to grab it, catching it in her outstretched fingers. She did this so seamlessly, and so silently, the guard did not stir. The moment she took hold of the wand, she stood up to her full, regal height, pointed the wand at the back of the guard’s head and hissed, “Encephalitiseum!”

  Maddie watched in amazement as an electric blue current flared from the tip of the wand, hissed, and shot through the back of the guard’s skull. He jumped to his feet, clutching his head, and screaming in agony. He whirled around to stare inside the cell, his eyes wide with horror and pain. He lived only long enough to register what’d just happened to him, before he collapsed, still screaming, to the floor. A dull thud rocked the cell door slightly off its hinges. After another moment, a thin trickle of blood oozed between the opening to the door and the stone floor. It seeped into the fissures in the flagstones, undulating like a tiny river, then puddled and congealed.

  Maddie glanced up curiously at Nana.

  Okay, that was kind of scary, even for Nana.

  Nana stood there a long moment, a look of venom in her eyes. “There. That’s for your cruelty.”

  “What’d he do to you, Nana?” Maddie asked.

  “It’s not what he did to me,” Nana seethed. “It’s what he did to your mother.”

  “Oh,” Maddie said in a small voice.

  Nana’s features cleared. “Don’t worry yourself, sweetheart. It’s over and done with. And now,” she said, her voice brusque, “we need to do something before the whole castle is alerted to the fact I’ve just killed one of the nastiest bullies to ever walk upon the face of the earth.”

  Maddie’s whiskers quivered. “Aside from Ezekiel.”

  “Yes. Aside from him.”

  Nana pointed the wand up at the crevice high above their heads and uttered the plural form of the levitation incantation. Bettina and Malamar floated down to the stone floor. But they didn’t do it quietly. In typical cat form, Bettina and Malamar howled and shrieked, their legs outstretched, their claws unsheathed. They didn’t stop yowling until they stood safely on the stone floor.

  “Dear me,” Nana tut-tutted under her breath, “that was noisy.”

  “Why didn’t you give us any warning?” Malamar spat.

  “Nana,” Bettina said. “Shape-shift me back.”

  Nana pointed the wand at Bettina and she shape-shifted back into human form. With tears in her eyes, she ran forward and gave Nana a hug, then gazed in shock at Mama lying sprawled on the ground. “What’s wrong with Mama?”

  “Nothing that a little care and tenderness won’t fix,” Nana said firmly. She pointed Bettina’s wand at Mama and shape-shifted her into a ferret. Mama immediately curled up into a tight ball, tucking her head into her belly. Nana reached down and scooped up Mama and dropped her into one of her many pockets. “There,” she said, patting the pocket with a pleased smile. “She’ll be safe in there.”

  “What about me, Nana?” Maddie asked. “Can I shape-shift back?”

  Nana regarded Maddie with pursed lips. “I rather like you small. It makes me feel safe to have you right where I can grab you, if need be.”

  Maddie pouted. “But I don’t want to stay this way. I want to go back to being human.”

  “I’ll decide when that happens, child.” And with that, she plucked up Maddie by her long, thin tail and dropped her into the same pocket beside Mama.

  Maddie wanted to protest, but her mother placed her head on Maddie’s belly, she instantly felt comforted as she bumped up alongside her mother, snug as a bug, in Nana’s pocket. She felt safe again.

  “Come on,” Nana ordered. “Let’s get moving.”

  12

  At first Maddie rather enjoyed the sensation of being jostled around in Nana’s pocket; it felt so nice, after being worried for so long as to Mama’s whereabouts, to be bumping right up alongside her. But after a time, Maddie grew weary. She couldn’t tell where in the castle they’d gone to; her bearings became discombobulated, as Nana kept stopping and starting, backtracking first down one corridor, then another.

  Mama rubbed her wet nose against Maddie’s soft little body. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured weakly, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  Safe? Hah!

  But Maddie wisely kept her counsel; no sense worrying Mama more than unduly necessary.

  Maddie did notice one thing: the more time she spent in Nana’s pocket, the colder it seemed to be getting. She sensed the chill, even from inside the comforting confines of Nana’s warm flannel pocket. The outside environment was growing colder. Wherever Nana meant to go, Maddie sensed they must be drawing near.

  “Here we are,” Nana said. Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking from a hundred miles away. “I can see them now.”

  See who?

  Maddie fidgeted around in Nana’s pocket. This was no good. She so wanted to see what Nana was looking at. She licked Mama’s cold nose with the tip of her tongue. “I’ll be back, Mama.”

  She scrambled up the inside of Nana’s pocket and peeked out over the cotton binding, peering around, her little nose twitching.

  Nana stood just behind the entranceway to a balcony. She peeked around the doorframe, gazing down. So distracted, she failed to notice as Maddie scrabbled up the length of Nana’s gown and perched on her right shoulder, hiding under the cascade of silvery-gray hair. Maddie felt a sudden urge—one she’d never felt before—to gnaw on Nana’s silvery fine hair.

  No, I mustn’t nibble her hair. Nana will be so angry with me, she’s so proud of her fine hair.

  Try as she might, Maddie simply could not resist the urge. She sniffed with a judicious air and nipped gently at the long strands, careful so as not to arouse Nana’s notice or draw her ire. As she chewed, she peered out from behind the curtain of hair. That’s when she saw what drew Nana’s attention.

  In the throne room, far below them, sat Ezekiel on a gilt-edged chair. Flanking him on either side stood two rows of vampires. His son, Drakkur, stood to Ezekiel’s left side; his right hand rested lightly on his father’s shoulder. To Ezekiel’s right, stood Lord Bartholomew, Ezekiel’s first lieutenant. The witches of Salem Castle huddled against the walls.

  And standing before Ezekiel stood—

  Maddie inhaled sharply.

  Oh, no!

  With a vampire standing sentinel on either side of her and clutching one arm each, stood her friend Victoria.

  Maddie squeaked in horror. “Oh, no!”

  Nana jumped. “Who said that?”

  “It’s me, Nana. I’m on your shoulder.”

  “Heavens, Maddie, don’t go scaring me like that.”

  “Uh, Nana? If the scene below you isn’t scary, then what do you consider scary?”

  Nana smiled faintly. “You simply surprised me.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What you are going to do,” Nana retorted firmly, “is stay right here. I’m going down to rescue that little girl.”

  “But she’s my friend. I want to help.”

  “You can’t. You’re too young.”

  “But Nana, you were already a full-blooded witch when you were my age. You vanquished Vasputinov.”

  She managed a wry smile. “Good memory.”

  “So, can I accompany you?”

  “No, dear, you cannot.”

&nbs
p; “But why not?”

  “Things are different now. No more arguments, Madeleine. My mind is made up.”

  “Oh, Nana,” she sighed with resignation.

  Still, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Or a mouse, for that matter.

  Nana nudged her on the snout with her chin. “All right then, young lady. Scoot.”

  “Okay,” Maddie sighed. She scuttled off Nana’s shoulder and jumped onto the stone wall opposite. She clung to the wall, face-to-face with Nana. She gazed directly into those clear gray eyes.

  Nana’s eyes softened. “Be good.”

  “I will,” Maddie promised.

  Nana tweaked one of Maddie’s whiskers, then slipped away down the corridor, with Mama still tucked securely away in her pocket.

  Bettina, who’d been standing nearby, shape-shifted herself back into a sleek black cat and, moving as silently as a shadow, skulked down the hallway after Nana. Malamar hesitated a moment, then followed. As he reached the corner, he turned to give Maddie one last, sad look. “It’s for the best, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” Maddie said with an airy voice.

  Malamar stopped. He turned around slowly, perched on his haunches, and studied her. “Okay. What’s up?”

  Her whiskers twitched. “What do you mean?”

  “What are you up to, Madeleine?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Maddie said innocently. “I’m just following Nana’s orders, to stay right here until everything is well again.”

  “Uh, huh,” Malamar growled. “If you think I believe your lame story, then you must also think I’ve been smoking catnip.”

  “What on earth are you talking about, Malamar?”

  “I know how a litter box looks when it hasn’t been changed, my dear, and I think you’re full of it.”

  Maddie shook her head. “Malamar, you are sadly mistaken.”

  “Hah.” Malamar snorted. “I’ve known you since you were five years old, and I know when you’re trying to pull the catnip over my eyes.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, then. Tell me this: what are you planning to do?”

  “I’m staying right here,” Maddie said, her whiskers twitching uncontrollably.

  “I know that’s what you told your nana, but what are you really going to do?”

  Maddie sighed. “Promise you won’t tell?”

  “Come on, little witch. ‘Fess up.”

  Maddie focused her beady little eyes down into the tower room. Musicians sat in the orchestra pit, warming up their instruments; some kind of ceremony was preparing to start, when they suddenly stopped playing, and she heard the eerie, somnolent sound of a drum beat. Silently, the vampires moved into tidy rows in front of Ezekiel. One by one, and without uttering a word, they bowed down before him, then returned to their positions, flanking him on either side of the throne. Drakkur stepped forward and kneeled before his father.

  A sliver of fear slid into her heart. “Look, I’ve managed to get us out of a fair number of scrapes, and Nana or no Nana, I’ve got to rescue my friend.”

  “That’s what I thought.” He cocked his head. “And what do you plan to do to effect this marvelous escape, in a castle crawling with blood-sucking vampires?”

  “I’ve no idea, but I must get down there. I can’t just stay up here like an idle bystander.”

  Malamar shook his head. “I am so going to get in trouble for this.”

  “I’ll stand up for you,” Maddie squeaked.

  “That’s lovely, thank you,” Malamar said with some asperity, “but that isn’t going to do me much good if you get killed, will it?”

  “Malamar, I promise you—”

  At that moment, a thunderous roar rose from the throne room. Malamar scurried to the balcony and pushed his head between the balustrades; Maddie jumped off the wall and perched on the railing. Together, they peered down.

  The drumbeat stopped. Into the eerie silence, Ezekiel rose to his feet, wielding a massive sword in his left hand. “And now,” he intoned slowly, “may the ceremony commence.”

  A hushed silence swept over the hall.

  Ezekiel lifted the sword high above his head. “I, Ezekiel, king of the warlocks, shall consecrate thee, my son Drakkur.” Ezekiel brought the sword down over his right hand, the tip pointing at the palm. He then seamlessly cut his skin; a wellspring of blood rose up on the palm as he dropped the sword to the floor. It lay there on the thick red carpet.

  Despite their blind loyalty to Ezekiel, the assembled vampires hissed and growled at the sight of the warlock’s blood. Ezekiel calmly ignored them as he took his left thumb and pressed down hard upon his palm. Then he lifted his bloodstained thumb high into the air.

  Drakkur bowed down low and closed his eyes.

  “With this, the blood from my body, I give willingly to thee,” Ezekiel said, and pressed the blood print of his thumb onto the center of Drakkur’s forehead.

  Keeping his left thumbprint on his son’s forehead for a long moment, Ezekiel let his right hand hang loosely at his waist. A trickle of blood dribbled down his fingers and onto the carpet.

  At last, Ezekiel lifted his thumb, revealing the red print on Drakkur’s forehead. Drakkur’s eyes remained closed.

  “I now anoint thee as my lawful heir and the future master of this, my kingdom.”

  The vampires roared their approval.

  Drakkur opened his eyes and rose from his kneeling position to stand before his father. The blood seal of his father’s thumbprint on his forehead pulsed faintly in the eerie light.

  Lord Bartholomew now stepped forward and placed his hand lightly in the crook of Drakkur’s arm. He escorted Drakkur through the procession of vampires, to accept their accolades and tributes. Drakkur swaggered, giving an airy, dismissive wave as the vampires paid homage to him.

  At that moment, and despite the grandeur and the pomp and splendor of the scene before her, Maddie’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to a figure hovering in a dark corner, standing far behind the throne.

  “Malamar,” she hissed. “Who’s that? Off in the corner there?”

  Malamar peered closely, his sea foam green eyes narrowed. “Well, it looks like a woman.”

  “Really?” Maddie gazed intently at the figure. “Well, I’ll be....! That’s Esmeralda, Ezekiel’s wife.”

  “Really? I thought you said she retired to Europe.”

  “She did,” Maddie said in a wondering tone of voice. “What on earth’s possessed her to come here to witness this?”

  “A good point there,” Malamar murmured. “Perhaps Ezekiel summoned her?”

  “What possessed him to summon her, though?” Maddie wondered aloud. “He banished her to Europe after she poisoned his last mistress.”

  “Ouch.”

  A history together, Ezekiel and Esmeralda. It’d started out as an arranged marriage, their betrothal sealed for them nearly from the moment of their births, as their mothers hovered above their cribs and plotted their children’s future. An advantageous match on both sides; Esmeralda, descended from proud Wiccan bloodlines, possessed the good Wiccan name, while Ezekiel, lacking the bloodlines, possessed something even more important: a tremendous ambition to succeed. And with the birth of their children—Hector, Priscilla, Isme, and Marcus—Ezekiel virtually guaranteed that his line would carry on for all eternity.

  From what Maddie gleaned from eavesdropping on her elders’ conversations over the years, despite the fact of it being an arranged marriage, their union had once been a happy one. But that was back in the day, when Esmeralda was still young and beautiful, and providing Ezekiel with healthy heirs to the dynasty. Then, in the manner of all women—Wiccan and human—Esmeralda went through menopause. It should’ve been a time of great rejoicing for Esmeralda, for a witch’s powers increase as she ceases her menses, but Ezekiel’s interest in his wife faded and withered, along with the fading of the bloom in her cheeks.

  Sadly, at the same time h
er exalted beauty faded, so did her powers to intoxicate. No longer did she mesmerize him as his once young, shining queen, and so Ezekiel dallied. A dangerous proposition for all the nubile young witches in the castle, for Esmeralda did not appreciate being supplanted. Many a witch disappeared in the night, carried off by disease, poison, or some other nameless malady; word quickly spread that becoming Ezekiel’s mistress was hazardous to a witch’s health.

  After a time, no witch of sound mind would agree to become Ezekiel’s mistress.

  Ezekiel suspected his wife but could find no proof. Then Esmeralda grew careless—it’d proven too easy to trace the lethal dose of arsenic in the dead witch’s blood to Esmeralda’s laboratory—and in a fit of pique, Ezekiel banished her to Europe. A few months later he traveled to Europe himself to visit her, and on the way, he stopped in Transylvania to visit some distant relations.

  While there, he met the beautiful human woman Cassandra. They engaged in an affair; she became Ezekiel’s lover, his mistress, and his constant companion. Ezekiel even went so far as to bring Cassandra with him to visit his queen; no doubt, the meeting between the two women did not go well.

  Following the trip to Europe, and carrying his child in her belly, Cassandra returned to Salem with Ezekiel. One evening, while out walking along the pier, a vampire bit her, infecting her.

  Ezekiel nearly despaired, yet by some strange miracle, both Cassandra and the infant survived, but Cassandra transformed into a vampire. Nobody knew what would happen to the babe inside her body. And so, when Drakkur was born, he possessed the best—and the worst—qualities of each species. With the powers of a warlock, and the evil malevolence of a vampire who can walk by day, he became a truly feared creature: a Day-Walker.

  Esmeralda remained in Europe with her children, laying claim through the Wiccan courts to assert her eldest son, Hector, as the rightful heir to Ezekiel’s throne. When word got out that Hector—his father’s natural and expected heir—had been tossed aside in favor of this changeling half-blood brother, the witches in the castle were angry and horrified.

  It was simply unprecedented for a warlock to favor a bastard son over a lawfully-born heir, and the Salem witches made it abundantly clear to Ezekiel that they were displeased, but Ezekiel paid them no heed.