by Aya Walksfar
Once again hands and feet scrabbled against the stone as I fought to stand. Finally, I made it to my hands and knees, constantly expecting to feel the thud of a boot again, but it didn’t come this time.
Baskell paced. “If you had listened to me, all of this upheaval could have been avoided. I noticed that you finally learned how to harvest Power. Too bad you waited so long. You and I together could have defended our territory. Now, I am no longer free to be at your side; Helena made sure of that. In fact, Helena wants you dead.” He shrugged, his elegant suit jacket whispering in the quiet.
Grasping the edge of the altar, I hauled myself up on sheer willpower. Shaky hand clinging to the slick black surface, I cautiously turned to face my tormentor.
“Baskell, how lovely to see you.” My voice rasped like someone who had been screaming for a long time. It reminded me of the dungeon and how I vowed time and again not to cry out, not to scream, and each time I had broken my vow and screamed and screamed until by the next morning my breath rasped in a throat scalded by desperation. “Is that a new scar across your cheek? I hadn’t noticed it before,” I taunted. “Why didn’t your wonderful Helena heal you?”
He dashed forward, and though I saw it coming I had no strength to dodge. The back of his hand slashed across my mouth. My head snapped around. Blood gushed from where teeth sliced the inside of my mouth. I swallowed the coppery taste.
“Do not mock me, Serena.”
Body quivering from exhaustion, I leaned my hips against the altar’s edge. “Why not, Baskell? You deserve it and you will kill me regardless.”
He closed in on me and reached out vampire quick. The back of his hand stroked down the same cheek he had just hit, but I shifted my body enough to put space between us.
His hand dropped to his side. “We could’ve been good together, Serena. Invincible.”
“How did you manage to Taint me, Baskell? It happened in the cave beneath Alexis’ island, didn’t it?” For the first time in months, the voices in my head had fallen silent. Not the waiting silence that meant they would pounce when I least expected to hear them; no, this was the silence of absence. The voices were gone. Vanquished.
I glanced down at my hands. Hunks of charred skin remained barely attached. Blood red, angry burns patterned my arms and hands; and, I suspected from Baskell’s obvious revulsion, my face, as well. Patches of shirt and slacks had melted to underlying skin. My lips felt cracked, dry. Even the insides of my nostrils felt scorched.
I winced at the memory of the blue fireballs eating at me. The fireballs had zipped in a crisscross manner over my body as if they followed some crazy pattern. A glance at my chest showed black streaks embedded in the skin over breast and stomach. Those streaks had once been cloth.
He wandered to the far side of the small room that had been made into an unholy temple. “Really, Serena, you’re so damn intelligent, you tell me.” His lips twisted into a sneer. The tip of the scar distorted the corner of his mouth into something grotesque then tugged his skin into a faded ridge of red-pink skin that ran up to the corner of his eye.
Squinting at the scar, I recalled seeing a similar one once. “Your Mistress slashed your face with a riding crop. She must’ve had the metal tip of it reinforced with gold.”
“Shut up!”
Gathering what Energy I still could find, I channeled it so my words emerged in a nonchalant tone, though my broken ribs cried out in protest. “After you were punished, she could have healed you and you would not have a lasting scar. It’s too late now, though.” My voice hadn’t wavered. I lifted my chin a tiny bit. Not defeated. Not yet.
Behind me something stirred on the altar. Before I could react, ghostly hands latched onto my shoulders. I tensed to fight them off then released my tightened muscles. Justice had finally found me. That young warlock said he would haunt me and pull me into Caine’s Hells. It appeared he had returned to gather his vengeance. I only wished I could explain well enough to have Baskell hauled into Caine’s Hells with me.
The fingers dug painfully into the cooked flesh along my collarbone. I flinched.
“What’s wrong, Serena,” Baskell’s smarmy voice asked. “Having a few little aches and pains? Your magic-using, human lover nearly killed you.” A cruel laugh spilled from his mouth. “That was nearly as much fun as watching you murder poor Gregory. Did you even realize that the black Energy taking you over came from me? It allowed me to spy on you; to watch as you drained your precious huvams. I was quite disappointed when Ariel helped Alexis escape your fangs. Kids! No loyalty these days.” A nasty chuckle issued from his mouth.
If I had had the energy, I would have sprung across the space between us and ripped his head from his shoulders barehanded. Tired. So tired. At least, I will die knowing who I am, though that did not excuse the blood of innocents on my Soul.
A feeling of warmth flushed through me. At first the thought of burning again made my stomach roil. I thought I might vomit, but I had no right to beg for mercy. I straightened my spine; stood taller in spite of the pain. With a tiny bit more lift of my chin, I clenched my fists to hang onto what little courage remained in me. The dead deserved justice.
I only wished I knew whether Ariel had survived. Where had her Spirit made corporeal been taken, and by whom? It must have been someone working with Alexis. Why else would Alexis have been here? Would the child recover?
At least, going to Caine’s Hells I would not run into Hauk Morningstar and see sorrow and disappointment in his eyes. Even that blessing was more than I deserved.
The smell of cedar and sage scratched at the raw inside of my nostrils. My brows drew together. Soft chanting whispered behind me. A shudder of fear gripped me. I thought I was prepared, but now my insides quivered. Sucking in a breath, I held it and drew the tattered remains of my courage tightly around me. Death is but life unborn. Perhaps, I would get another chance, someday, to make this right.
From the corners of my eyes, I caught the flicker of candles--not the oily smoke of blood candles. These candles danced in robes of yellows and reds, oranges and blues and greens. The room shifted; its edges fading.
My head spun. How strange. I'm dizzy. Maybe I'm bleeding inside my skull. I must have been too drained to heal. Well, Warlock, you’d best quit dallying around or you’re going to miss your chance to kill me. I felt the vibrations of a chuckle in my chest.
Warmth that cascaded over my body flared into liquid lava. My chuckle became a strangled scream as hot blackness closed around me.
Baskell bolted to his feet, eyes wide and mouth agape. A werewolf and a werepanther bounded into the basement. Just before the blackness claimed me, the werepanther sprang and ripped out Baskell’s throat then continued to tear at his neck. His blood sprayed, not ashing—proof that Helena had remade him. In many ways, he was a newly Changed vampire who drank down the magic and the strength mixed in the blood of his victims, a Talent given by his new Mistress. His head rolled from his shoulders.
Agony flamed in my veins. As blackness wrapped a cloak around me, I hoped the werepanther had been Ri.
****
Filtered sun spilled through lacy curtains. Its hot finger traced along the red welts crisscrossing my chest. It didn’t hurt as much as it felt distinctly uncomfortable. Lying still, my eyes roamed around the room. Lethargy held me fast to the bed.
An elder witch walked into the room. I tensed. My heart accelerated faster than a hawk diving for prey. Only I felt like the prey.
The leathery-faced woman held a hand up with her palm out as she approached the foot of the bed where I could more easily see her. “Be at peace, First Councilwoman.”
Unable to lie still around a potential enemy, I eased up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stared in wonder at hands and arms covered with the pinkish color of newly formed skin.
“You were grievously injured and your Energy was too low to heal yourself. My healers worked on you.”
“Thank…thank you.” My throat felt scalde
d. I tried in vain to swallow.
“There is water on the table to your left.” Patrice eased down on a comfortable looking chair, far enough from the bed not to intimidate me and yet close enough to encourage amiable chatting.
After emptying the water, I returned the glass to the bedside table. “Patrice, Witch Elder, my eyes recognize you, but I cannot smell you. Have my vampiric senses deserted me or do you camouflage your scent?”
She wagged her head slowly from side to side. “Neither, First Councilwoman. Your senses will return in time; and I have no reason to camouflage my scent for we are at my home.”
I folded my hands and laid them in my lap. “Have you bespelled me?”
A slight bow of her head acknowledged the accusation. “It was necessary for your safety as well as the safety of others. Your Powers have been suspended.”
“Do you know anything about my daughter,” I asked as I bent toward the other woman. “I...fear for her safety.”
A scowl rested on the lined face. “What do you recall, Serena?”
“Bits and pieces; jagged feelings and flashes of...horror. My mind feels as if someone has hacked at my memories.” I shivered and rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
Patrice tilted her head and studied me. “Can you recall your life in any coherent manner at all?”
Frowning, I nodded. “Yes. I can recall my life up until I went into the cave beneath Alexis’ island.”
“What do you recall of being in that cave?”
Fog shrouded my mind. “I recall...going into it, but I don’t know why. The next thing I recall is waking up at Phoenix Estate, and lying on a bed in the admin building. Ariel lay with me, but it...felt uncomfortable. After that...” I spread my hands out to the side, palms upward. “Everything after that is disjointed and unclear. It feels as if a toxic fog distorts and hides my memories.”
The witch’s eyes searched my face for Truth. I wondered if she used a spell to test my honesty. Patrice gave a solemn nod. “We feared as much.”
With the tips of my fingers I massaged my forehead. Maybe the ache wouldn’t turn into one of those full blown headaches.
She made a vague hand motion. “Does your head pain you often?”
I started to say no then decided that truth, even in small matters, would serve better. “Lately it does. It’s the stress. I’ve been getting headaches ever since I awakened at the estate and they’ve gotten increasingly worse.”
“Serena, you are a vampire. Does it not seem strange to suffer a malady that vampires do not suffer?”
My hand fell to my lap. Comprehension dawned by inches. “Elder, can you explain what happened to me in that cave?”
****
The dining area held five tables, all of them thick with diners. I spotted Warriors, huvams, wantons, and Guardians who had disappeared from the estate. Many of them turned their gazes from me. Their rejection pained, but I clutched the hurt to me silently. With memories returning sporadically and with devastating clarity, I knew I deserved their scorn.
Others at the tables--werepanthers and werewolves and witches I did not know--gaped in undisguised curiosity. Members of an Alliance, Patrice had told me; Alexis’ Alliance for Artemis.
For a moment, pride swelled my heart. She had done the impossible and had wielded the various factions of the Supernatural world into a fighting force; a force with a real chance to win against the European invaders.
Patrice kindly pointed toward a chair across the circular table from her. Gladly I sank into the empty spot. Gaze cast down, I tried not to catch anyone’s attention while I surveyed the occupants of the room from beneath lidded eyes.
Disappointment stabbed me. Ariel was missing from the dining room. When I had inquired about the child, Patrice would only say that Ariel lived and was well enough.
Unhappy with the vague answer, I had pressed the elder.
Finally, she said, “You ask me to reveal what is not my story to tell. This much I will say--you tried to murder your child. Whatever she wishes for you to know of her and of her life and of her feelings are for her to decide. She has earned that right by what she has suffered. Ask me no more questions about Ariel Morningstar-Longer.”
Now, I listened to the whisper of fabric as people shifted in their chairs. A devastating loneliness smothered me. My heart twisted within. Would I ever regain Ariel’s trust, much less her love?
The young witches who served seldom spoke. Their efficiency precluded the need for speaking. They set down steaming heaps of food--mashed potatoes, gravy, three different kinds of vegetables, steaks, and fish, a huge bowl of fruit chunks--enough to feed twice the number that sat around the tables.
The bowl of mashed potatoes landed next to my left hand. I scooped some on my plate and, avoiding the eyes of the young woman beside me, passed the bowl. A gravy boat arrived next. I picked up the ladle and lifted. Rich, brown gravy dripped from the rounded bowl of the ladle. Footsteps shushed along the floor. Not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze, I kept my face turned down and proceeded to spill the gravy over the pile of fluffy white potatoes.
“Mother,” the chill in Ariel’s voice pierced me.
Carefully I set the ladle back in the gravy boat then laid my hands in my lap. They gripped each other so hard that the knuckles hurt as I lifted my head.
Chin held belligerently high, Ariel regally surveyed the tables then turned her bright hard gaze on me. “Mother, I see you have survived your ordeal.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but when no words came, I settled for a simple nod as I stared at my daughter’s slender form. The young eyes speared me with contempt. I fought the urge to bolt to my feet and to either run far away, or to race over and wrap Ariel in my arms. Neither option was acceptable.
Nikki walked up behind Ariel and, placing a hand on the child’s shoulder, the Warrior guided her to a seat at the table farthest from me.
When I finally tore my gaze from Ariel, I dropped my eyes to the tiny spot directly in front of me. With wooden, jerky motions, I scooped food onto my plate. Without tasting, I shoved the food into my mouth. When the meal ended, I escaped to my assigned room. I would have run away, far away, except that all exits had been bespelled against my escape.
In the room, I stared out the window at the mottled red-orange-indigo clouds of sunset and nearly missed the soft knock on the closed door. For a moment, I considered not answering then chided myself for being a coward. “Come in.” Not wanting to undoubtedly see censure in my visitor’s eyes, I didn’t turn from the view outside.
“Serena.” Ri deliberately made noise as she walked across the room.
“You don’t have to stomp.”
“Please, accept my apologies.” The werepanther stepped next to me, but turned so that she, too, faced the outside. “I understood that Patrice bespelled you, so you don’t have access to your normal senses. I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Afraid the vamp will flip out on you?” Bitterness tasted of scorched coffee and sour milk.
“No. It was simply a courtesy that my mother taught me.”
A door thudded closed down the hall. I wondered if it belonged to Ariel’s room; or would Patrice have placed Ariel on a different floor, away from her crazy mother?
“Serena?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you have anything to do with Elder Coahoma’s death?”
An iron band clamped around my chest and made it difficult to breathe. “I...I wish I could tell you for sure, Ri, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I personally attacked her; nor do I know if I ordered such an attack.”
“Why can’t you remember, do you think?” Ri turned around and propped her lean hips against the window sill, palms of her hands planted on either side.
I dropped my head for a moment and stared at my entwined fingers. “There’s a...” A sigh soughed out as I returned to staring at the darkening sky of twilight. “It’s like a thick fog swirls around my memories. Sometimes, I can catch glimpses, but I can
’t clearly see anything after waking at the estate.”
“Would you burn away that fog, if you could?”
“I would like to think I would burn it away to see what I’ve done.” A bird flew past the window. I visually followed its route until it disappeared into the nearby forest. “I'm...afraid, Ri. I am afraid of what I will find.”
My voice wavered. “I could feel Ariel’s hate. No child hates her mother that much unless the mother has done something so terrible as to be...unforgivable. I did do something that terrible. Patrice told me I tried to murder my child.”
Ri cocked her head. “That’s it, then, huh? You’re going to hide up here until...until when?”
“I'm not hiding. No one wants to rub elbows with a murderess.” I heaved a breath. “I have seen a few very clear memories, Ri. Enough to realize that what I don’t see is probably far worse. I am not sure why Patrice suffers me to live.”
“Is avoiding your pain, your discomfort all that matters? You don’t want others to be angry at you; you don’t want to feel their disgust at your actions, so what then? What happens to the vampires? What happens with this war?”
“In the old days, Ri, when a vampire became a danger to her people, the head of her Family or the leader of her Clan would kill her.”
She shoved off the window sill. “You want someone to kill you? That the goal? Yeah, that’d be nice. Sure wish I could do it. I wouldn’t have to watch friends die in this war; I wouldn’t have to make decisions that will send people to their deaths; and I wouldn’t have to question myself and wonder if I can find the strength to lead my People. Yeah, dying sounds kinda nice; peaceful.” She barked a harsh laugh. “I might even get rested eventually and Goddess knows I need some rest. I haven’t slept more than four hours in....well, in a long time.”
Without another word, Ri left and quietly closed the door.
Chapter 35
Alexis Night Runner
Sleep wouldn’t come. Work awaited, so there was no sense in tossing around in bed. Short sword strapped on, I crept downstairs. The elder’s library was brighter and warmer than the basement, so I gathered up several volumes to haul to the first floor.