The Fallen One (Sons of the Dark Mother, Book One)

by Lenore Wolfe

  And Mia appeared to be sick.

  Jes and Mira looked to Dara for confirmation.

  Dara shrugged. “I want to say that he’s somehow turned her,” she whispered. “She looks sick enough—that he may have found a way to do so. That—or the vaccine didn’t work.” She frowned as she appeared to concentrate on Mia. “But something doesn’t feel right—she feels different…,” she said, making sure that Mia’s sisters did not hear.

  Morgi had stopped on the other side. She directed Ophelia and Jasmine to stand on either side of her. She told them to use their love, nothing more.

  She looked across the circle, expectantly. But the only one she stared at was Jes.

  “Shira!” she commanded, “Raise the power!”

  Jes stared at Morgi. She raised her hand, pointing at herself in her surprise. “Who—me?” She stared at the woman like she’d lost her mind. Who was she talking to? She was not Shira!

  Was she?

  “Do as I tell you!” the witch commanded.

  Jes was trembling with shock. She raised her hands, intending to tell the witch where she could get off. She was too amazed by the name she had just been called to think straight. Was that the name that Amar had forbidden her sisters to reveal to her?

  Who did Morgi think she was, calling her that, when her own sisters had been so careful not to tell her what it was? Who did she think she was—to do what even her own grandmother had said not to do!

  “I have watched the witch who made this circle! Now, do as I say!” Morgi again commanded.

  Jes opened her mouth to tell Morgi it was impossible. She could feel the power of this circle, and she knew it was impossible. But then—she caught Mia’s eyes. And the look in Mia’s eyes stopped her cold.

  Mia was a fierce warrioress—but what Jes saw in her eyes scared her beyond anything she’d ever felt.

  For Mia stood there calmly, without fear. She stood there with only love shining in her gaze. And she stood there—ready to die.

  “Oh, hell no!” Jes yelled at her. “No one dies today!”

  And she did indeed raise the power.

  Mira joined her—and then Dara. The power was so immense it brought tears to the eyes of those who watched. It went through the Sisters of Three like a great, white light, and they became like the ones of old, shining brightly—too brightly to behold.

  The circle shimmered. Mia passed out. Jes felt her throat close with fear—and the light began to fade.

  “Hold steady, granddaughter!” she heard Amar command.

  She didn’t know where her grandmother was watching her from, but it was all she needed to hear.

  The light magnified, brighter than ever. It turned the shack into a ball of white prisms. Jes was afraid that all of Justice’s sisters would die this day, but she couldn’t think of that. Fear was her enemy—especially here.

  She raised the power higher still—Dara and Mira continuing to join in with her. The walls of the shack fell away—and then the circle that held Mia disintegrated.

  Morgi yelled at Roman. She was a fierce sight to behold, standing there. He and Micah had stopped at the edge of where the shack had stood only a moment before—near to where the shack used to have a doorway—only moments before.

  But now they saw only bare ground.

  They both stared at first the ground—and then at Morgi. When the shack had disappeared within the blinding light, it had forced Micah and Roman to cover their faces.

  And now they could only stare at where the cabin had stood—where now they saw only charred earth.

  Roman raised the doorway and stepped across the charred earth to pick up Jasmine. Micah picked up Ophelia.

  Morgi had not waited for them to gingerly cross the hot earth, but had immediately picked Mia up, tossed her over her shoulder, and carried her through Roman’s doorway—and had then returned to where Micah was holding Ophelia and took her from him.

  He barely paid her any mind. He only stared at where the Sisters of Three now lay.

  “Stay with them, I’ll return shortly,” Roman commanded, and Micah could only nod.

  He couldn’t take the Sisters of Three through Roman’s doorway—none of them could. Their bodies were gone.

  And in their place were beings—made only of light.

  Where the sisters may have succeeded—the armies had not. It was the kind of war one often saw in movies where the armies fought hand-to-hand.

  Steel rang in the night as the armies fought, sword against sword, muscle against muscle, sweat and blood flowing under the silvery fingers of the moon. The difference from the movies was that these were armies comprised of beings that carried supernatural powers. Many warriors had shape-shifted into their Jaguar forms, or into a more dangerous vampire form. Others of them were forced to their form of hawk or bird to fly away.

  This time Constantine’s armies were simply too great in number for their armies to push them back—and then the bat-like creatures had come and the Jaguar, Fae and old vampire armies had been forced to retreat.

  In the end, many of those whose true form was not predatory took on their animal forms so they could more quickly take flight. Even those who were more predatory in nature—who were Jaguar, vampire, or others—were forced into retreat as well.

  All had fought with everything they had inside of them.

  One side fought for their home.

  The others fought for the age-old need to have more than they already owned: the desire for acquisition and control.

  When the battle was over many had been bitten. And it would only be a matter of time to see if the vaccinations would hold.

  But the Princes of the Four Directions had not won this night.

  Long before the battle had ended, many of the Jaguar People, the old factions of vampires, and the Fae armies had known they would have to fall back so they could live to meet Constantine’s armies again. They had been beat back with an ease that did more than just destroy their forces. They had been beat back with an ease that threatened to cripple their hearts and minds, threatening their morale. Though they fought with all their strength and power—Constantine had swatted them out of the way like a great wind that had blown in, much too strong for their own armies to push them aside.

  He had shown them that he would defy all who would stand in his way.

  And when the destruction he had wrought had finally blown completely through—many of them lay dead.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Power of Three

  Justice stared at where Constantine had been only a moment before. Constantine had gone to the hillside that would lead him back to the shack the moment he had realized that his armies were forcing the Alliance back.

  Justice and Dracon both chased after him. He had reached the top of the bluff—and then he had simply disappeared.

  Justice turned first one way—then that the other. It was as though Constantine could just turn himself into a ghost! How the hell was he supposed to fight a ghost?

  He turned to where Constantine’s armies had been, but they had all melted back into the forest as well.

  Constantine had won this battle—much too easily. So why hadn’t he stayed to finish them off?

  Realizing why Constantine had gone this way, he faced the direction of the shack, but then paused as a much stronger feeling poured through his every sense.

  “Jes,” he said out loud.

  Dracon was standing near enough to physically hear him, even if he hadn’t already heard what Justice was screaming inside of his head.

  Jes and her sisters were in trouble!

  Justice shifted to his predatory form. He couldn’t take his sword this way, but he could move more quickly. Dracon was long gone, running like lightning toward the shack before Justice had even made the forest’s edge. Justice was over halfway there when he ran into Roman in the woods. They quickly spotted each other, and shifted back to their human forms so that Roman could explain everything as they ran, but they were qu
ick to shift back into their Jaguar forms once the information was passed, allowing them to cover the ground more quickly.

  Dracon was going to beat them there either way. No Jaguar could move as fast as a vamp.

  Yet, nothing could have prepared them for what they found.

  Justice was nearly frantic when he saw the Sisters of Three lying there. Dracon also, for once, had a good amount of emotion showing in his eyes.

  Roman had finished helping Morgi take Justice’s sisters through the doorway, but they still were not able take the Sisters of Three through, and that was when he had gone to find Justice and Dracon instead. He knew it was imperative that they get the sisters away from there; they were too vulnerable to Constantine in their present condition. And it wouldn’t be long, now that the battle had ended, before he returned for his prize.

  After all, he had planned it all out so carefully.

  But he hadn’t planned for the return of Shira.

  When Justice got there, Dracon was staring in shock at the circle of dark earth where the shack had once stood.

  Micah was holding Mira, and there were silent tears rolling down his face. He stared at Justice and Dracon. Justice looked at Dracon.

  Dracon’s eyes were dark, and his fangs were showing; since they weren’t about to fight, and he wasn’t about to feed, Justice knew that it was the power of his emotions that had changed him. And Dracon generally wasn’t known for letting emotions rule his head, that knowledge said all Justice needed to know.

  “I scouted the perimeters. There’s no one around here—yet,” Dracon said. He actually more growled it, but Justice got the gist of it.

  The two of them walked across the charred earth, not caring if they were burned.

  “It’s okay,” Micah said quickly as though he had finally realized how it must have looked. “They have just taken a goodly amount of time returning to their physical form.”

  “Physical form?” Dracon’s tone demanded an explanation.

  It was obvious to Justice that Micah was still too stunned, most likely by the blast, to give him much of one. “I’ve never seen anything like it. They might have all been… killed.”

  “We’ll talk about it later!” Justice growled. “Why didn’t they go back through the doorway?”

  Micah frowned at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Their bodies were nothing but light. Have you ever tried to carry light?”

  Dracon had just started reaching for Dara, and Justice had moved to stand in front of Jes, but that stopped both Justice and Dracon in their tracks.

  Justice turned to warn Dracon, just in time to see him pull back his hand. He seemed afraid to touch her now. His gaze quickly scanned her body. It was obvious that he was afraid he’d hurt her.

  But Justice was more afraid that it would hurt Dracon than that it would hurt Dara. “Dracon, don’t touch her yet,” he warned.

  Dracon frowned. He looked back to Micah. “Can they be taken home?

  Micah stared down at Mira. “I have only been able to touch her—without my hands going straight through her—in the last few minutes,” he explained. “I think that we can take them through the doorway now.”

  He seemed hesitant about that, and Justice didn’t like it. “But you don’t know.”

  Roman had stayed outside the charred earth, but hearing this, he now entered it. “It might be too hard on them to take them through the doorway when they’ve been put through such a thing,” he said.

  Dracon frowned at him, now. “If we don’t, they’ll be sitting ducks for that one.” He shrugged toward where the battle had taken place, still refusing to name his enemy.

  Justice made a mental note to talk to him about that sometime, but right now, he had more pressing things to worry about. “Roman,” he said, “we’ll just have to take that chance.” He stared at their charred surroundings. “Dracon’s right. If we don’t, there is a much greater danger to them here. We will never be able to protect them from all those vamps,” he looked at the sisters then, “with them in their current condition.”

  Roman nodded, turned, and formed a doorway. Dracon picked up Dara and was quick to go through it first. Micah stood then, lifting Mira easily off the ground, and went through the doorway next. Justice had picked up Jes, by that time, and followed the others through it, while Roman brought up the rear—and closed the doorway.

  But not before he had spotted Constantine coming out of the woods—and behind him—were hundreds of vamps.

  He blinked when thought he also saw Morgi high up on the bluff behind them. He shook his head: but that couldn’t be right—he had left her with Justice’s sisters back at the manor.

  Roman had exited the doorway right into the Sisters of Three’s ritual room. They had readied the beds, which had been set up for the sisters in the corner of the room, long before. The men gently placed the sisters upon them now.

  Roman informed the men about whom he thought he had seen when closing the doorway. Dracon was quick to demand that he reopen it.

  “No,” Justice ordered, and Dracon frowned. “I cannot be with you on this one, brother.” Justice told him. “We need to make sure the sisters are okay and we will need to finish our other plan for dealing with Constantine, neither of which will be helped by your committing suicide here this night.”

  So they sent for Amar and set up, instead, the long vigil—of waiting for the sisters to awaken. Only then they would know if they were okay—or even if they were the same sisters who had gone into the war.

  Roman went to look for Morgi.

  It was after daylight before the sisters awoke.

  The three simply opened their eyes, as though someone had thrown a light switch: just like that. And Dracon, who was taking his turn to watch them, stared from one to the other with obvious suspicion.

  Amar shooed him out of the room. “It was time,” and that’s all she told him as she shut the door behind him.

  When he was gone, she had the sisters tell her where they had been while they had been out. She listened as they each told her about visiting family members on the other side.

  She looked at Jes. “I expect that you have figured out what is different about your grandmother now,” she said.

  Jes frowned, and her eyes filled with tears. “You mean about the fact that you are dead.”

  Amar nodded. She looked at Mira. “It took this child some time to figure it out too. It happened when we were after Xavier Dubioux.”

  Mira crawled over and put her arm around Jes.

  “It was really hard for me to accept,” she said with a sniff.

  Jes nodded. She looked at Dara, who had crawled up on the other side of her to join in a sisterly hug. “How long have you known?” she asked Dara.

  Dara smiled wanly. “Since, the first time I looked at her.” She shook her head. “But I’ve had a little more experience in dealing with the dead.”

  Jes shook her head. “I don’t understand. Other people can see you.”

  Amar laughed. “I work with the Fae, so I have an advantage.”

  Jes half-smiled, wanly, and nodded.

  Justice came through the door, then, with a look for Amar that dared her to try to throw him out. Dracon was with him. The look on his face implied he’d chosen to recruit Justice—so that the old woman couldn’t throw them both out.

  The sisters giggled. And then they all sat down to plan.

  The sisters stood before the cauldron, mixing together the spell they’d been working on for the past several weeks. This was it. This is what all their hard work came down to. They had done their homework. They had carefully meditated and planned. They were ready.

  They had to be.

  Constantine had acted as though they were merely pawns that were in his way last night. And he had neatly swatted them out of the way, like flies.

  No wonder Dracon had such respect for him.

  He was respecting a formidable foe.

  But Mia was sick. No one knew exactly what was wrong w
ith her, and Mia wasn’t talking.

  Jes had never been so afraid for a loved one. Justice’s sister was her best friend—and like another sister to the sisters. She would never forgive herself if anything were to happen to her—and they had not prevented her from going to Constantine and placing herself in such danger.

  Mira was stirring the pot when she suddenly spoke, and Jes glanced at her in surprise.