His upbringing had been idyllic and, in Emme, he'd had the perfect mother. She'd been the one to hold him when he was sick, bandage his injuries, and kick him in the backside when he'd needed it. He'd never lacked a loving mother figure. All this time, what he'd imagined as the hole in his life left by a non-relationship with Mortianna, was actually a hole in himself.
A hole that had been healed by Maeve. Her misguided journey to secure what, in her mind, was her redemption, had led to his re-evaluation of life.
Now he just had to get her back, this woman he loved.
Loved.
A sense of wonder expanded through his chest. He loved her. He loved her fierce spirit, her sense of adventure and her loyalty to her friends and to her sister. She was misguided in some ways, but nothing she couldn't work out.
He hoped.
He looked at Shai. "Mortianna wasn't a mother to me, never has been. I was raised with my father and his second wife, Emme, who is the mother of my heart. Until a few days ago, I'd never had any contact with Mortianna."
Her expression was skeptical.
"I need to know where you stand, Shai." He braced his hands on the desk between them. "If I'm going to go against Mortianna and stop her from this madness, I'll need all the help I can get."
A slow smile crept across her face. "What did you have in mind?"
He returned her smile. "I need you to gather the troops. We're going on a little trip."
"We are? Where are we going?" Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"Oh, no, you don't." He shook his head, a smile on his face. "That would ruin the surprise."
"Spoilsport. I can't guarantee Val will jump in with both feet until he knows what you're planning. My man is rather cautious. "
"I'll explain later. Gather everyone and we'll discuss it then."
As Shai left to do as he'd requested, Quinn uttered a quick prayer for Maeve's safety. If the Goddess would look after her until he could get to her, which was all he could ask for.
The darkness was smothering.
Head throbbing, Maeve leaned against the unseen wall, the cool stone contrasting with the strangely warm air. Exhaustion screamed through her body as she closed her eyes once more. All she wanted to do was sleep. She had no idea how long she'd been in her prison. Her body craved food and she longed for a glass of water, but there was none to be had. Was the witch correct? Would she die in this pit only to be resurrected by the curse of immortality?
Brilliant specks of light flashed against her eyelids as she tried to remember exactly how she'd ended up here. Memories of her time with the witch and the vampire were disjointed, like loose images in a photo album. Open another page and the photograph slipped through her fingers.
While she recalled speaking with Gabrielle and Mortianna and she certainly remembered the witch's demand that she turn over Sinjin, she had no memory of landing in this dark hell. One minute she'd been up above, the next she'd been here, in the depths of the earth surrounded by darkness and the overpowering stench of sulfur and decay.
She kicked her leg, her foot connecting with yet another bone, sending it clattering over the uneven floor. The oubliette was scattered with human bones, or, at least, she thought they were human, and rotting clothing. Every now and then, she heard a rattle of disturbed bones and the patter of tiny feet in the darkness.
She wasn't alone, after all.
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. It seemed Mortianna hadn't quite gotten her wish after all. Her smile faded. Where had she gone wrong?
An image of Quinn crystallized in her mind and a shaft of sorrow pierced her heart.
She remembered too many things about him. He really had a great laugh but, in general, he was serious most of the time. His eyes turned darker, stormy blue when he was turned on, and his smile could make a woman's toes curl. His touch gave her shivers and the scent of his skin made her want to curl in his arms and stay there for eternity. Her throat tightened.
The reality of Quinn far outweighed her desire for revenge - too bad she hadn't realized that before she'd leapt. She'd gone with Mortianna for two reasons. Quinn had refused her the spell, and her life had become one long quest for revenge.
She'd been wrong.
Slow on the uptake, she only now realized that what she really wanted was what she could have had. It had been staring her in the face for days. Tears stung her eyes. Her desire for revenge was a valid emotion in one sense; she'd lost the person dearest to her, so it had been natural for her to want Mikhail to pay for his crimes. Yet, in the span of life, she'd been foolish.
Reb was gone and nothing would bring her back. And Maeve had allowed her life to become a mockery of her sister's. Her time consisted of training and planning, all to bring down a vampire who'd destroyed the other half of her heart. Tears slipped from beneath her eyelids to be ignored.
What had happened to the young woman who'd laughed with her friends, flirted with guys, played guitar, frolicked in the rain and had only wanted to become a chef? Hell, when was the last time she'd cooked?
She swallowed hard. Effectively, her life had ended the moment she'd met Mikhail on the campus of SUNY where she and Reb had attended school. She, too, had died with her sister, only it had taken eleven years for her to realize it.
A mirthless smile touched her lips as pain lanced through her chest at the realization. Mikhail had won and she'd never known.
Her sister, her other self. A sob erupted even as she tried to prevent it by biting her lip. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle those that followed. What would Reb say to her right now?
Get off your ass. All is not as it seems.
A bark of laughter bubbled to mingle with her bitter tears. Had she been in the oubliette long enough to go insane? Maybe she was already dead and didn't know it. Was this the other side? She opened her eyes only to see darkness. If this was it, heaven was highly overrated.
Who said you were going to heaven? You could very well be in hell and not know the difference.
"Except I don't believe in hell." Her whisper sounded loud in the silence.
Don't you?
A cackle escaped her. That had sounded like her sister's voice. It was just like Reb to get right to the heart of a matter. She'd never believed in letting grass grow under her feet.
With a groan, Maeve pulled her legs up tight to her body and leaned her forehead against her knees. All may not be as it seems, however, she'd gone over every inch of her prison, searching every crevice on her hands and knees, and it wasn't as if there was a door. Hell, even a crack in the wall would help, but there was none to be had.
Isn't there?
She raised her head and blinked watery eyes. That definitely sounded like her sister.
"Reb?" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Is that you?" she whispered.
Silence.
She'd really gone off the deep end this time. She straightened her legs and rubbed her damp eyes with the hem of her shirt. She blinked several times. Yep, it was still dark. Leaning her head against the wall, she closed her eyes once more. Her sister's image swam before her eyes. God, she missed her.
Will you get off your ass?
Maeve started, her head jerked upright, her heart thudded in her chest. Was that real? No, it couldn't be... She had to be hearing things.
No you're not-now, get moving, you have work to do.
"Reb?"
Yes?
Startled, Maeve leapt to her feet as if scalded. As she stood, her head connected with a rocky overhang. She sat down hard, head smarting and ears ringing. Rubbing the spot, she scowled.
"Of all the stupid things..." she muttered.
You've got that right.
A ghostly giggle raised the hair on her arms.
"How can you be talking to me?"
Do you remember the witch putting her hands on you and whispering something?
Maeve frowned as images flashed through her mind. Mortianna dropping the torch, Gabriel
le laughing, cold hands on either side of her head, then a tremendous flash of pain.
She flinched. "Yes."
She gave you the gift of knowing, more commonly called the Knowledge of the Ages.
"What does that mean?"
You'll figure it out as you go. Right now, you need to get out of this hole or all will be for naught.
Maeve blinked, her mind whirling with possibility. Did she have the ability to escape this hell? She looked around. The darkness didn't seem to be as complete as before. She held her hand several inches in front of her face. Yes, she could see the pale outline of her fingers. Excited, she scrambled to her knees. Why was it lighter in here?
She blinked again several more times.
Across from her, a section of the wall looked vaguely lighter than the stone around it. She frowned. That hadn't been there before. How could she have missed such a thing?
Was it a trick?
Does it matter?
She jerked as the voice sounded in her head once more. Was it really her sister? She didn't know for sure. Whatever or whoever it was, it was showing her the way out. She got to her feet and approached the new find, careful to shuffle her feet to avoid tripping over objects scattered about the lumpy floor.
Feeling the walls with her hands, she located the lighter area to realize it was a narrow recess in the wall. She squeezed into the niche. A fresh draft of air touched her cheeks and she took a deep breath. Excitement tingled down her spine as she examined her ticket to freedom.
A narrow shaft led up into the rock and it was definitely lighter in here. Daylight? Had it been cloudy in here earlier and that was why she'd missed it? Was it a way out? If it was, she was in for a climb.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Finding a handhold, she pulled one foot closer to freedom.
* * *
Chapter 12
Quinn stared at the façade of Mortianna's house. She should think of remodeling it. The sheer number of windows on the south side made for a liability when it came to defense. Then again, who would dare face the dragon in her lair? Only a fool.
Guess that makes me a fool.
He assessed the situation as he exited the Rover. Through the windows, he saw the minions gathered in a circle around the outer edges of the pentagram. Standing two deep, they surrounded Bliss' coffin, resembling a military honor guard from hell. Mortianna was nowhere to be seen.
"Aren't we delivering ourselves right into her hands?" Alexandre Saint-Juste asked as they approached the front door of Mortianna's house. The leader of the Council of Elders had met them outside of London, joining forces with them for the coming confrontation.
"You've got that right," Val muttered. "How do we know this isn't a trap engineered by you and your mother?"
"Regardless of what you think, I'm here to rescue Maeve and put a stop to the nonsense my mother started." Quinn stopped at the door, turning to face his companions. "You don't have to enter. This isn't your battle."
"Like hell it isn't," Val answered. "That witch threatened the life of my best friend and aligned herself with Mikhail, who is my problem. This battle is mine whether you like it or not."
Quinn nodded then looked at Alexandre.
He straightened. "I'm the head of the Council of Elders." He threw a wry grin to Val. "Such as it is. It's my duty to protect the interests of those I serve."
"I want both of you to know that I'm not sure I can convince her to back down. This could get ugly real fast. We may very well die here tonight."
Val threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Now he tells us."
Alexandre grinned and looked up at the clear night sky where thousands of brilliant stars twinkled. "It wouldn't be a terrible day to die."
Taking that as their acceptance of the situation, Quinn nodded and reached for the doorknob.
"Shouldn't we knock?" Alexandre asked.
He shook his head. "Trust me, she already knows we're here."
Before he could turn the knob, the door opened wide to admit them. The entry was empty and gaslights flickered in the breeze from the open door.
"I guess we've just been invited in." Val said, stepping through the door.
Quinn followed with Alexandre close on his heels. The door closed silently behind them.
"Parlor tricks." Val muttered under his breath, contempt dripping from every word.
Quinn nodded. He'd warned them earlier that Mortianna would try and throw them off balance with small feats of magic. If anything, she was predictable.
He led the way to the room where Bliss lay in state. Quickly, he scanned the room and saw that neither Mortianna nor Gabrielle were there. Only the minions stood in their silent rings around the casket.
"Damn," Alexandre hissed, his gaze locked on the coffin.
Val motioned to him and, together, they approached the coffin, shoving minions out of the way with their hands. The little beasts regrouped seamlessly behind them as if nothing were amiss. Both men stared at his stepsister; Alexandre's face carefully blank while Val's expression was troubled.
"Why?" Val asked. "Why didn't Mortianna bury her daughter?"
"Because I couldn't bear to place my child in the cold earth." Mortianna swept into the room. Dressed in her usual black, Quinn was shocked at how old she looked. Deep grooves bracketed her mouth and her hair was heavily silvered. Her magic was fading even faster now. What caused this drain of her powers and why did she seem to be oblivious to it? Was it the A' bhais Cadail? Was this the price for using it?
She continued. "I realize, being a vampire, you don't understand my reluctance. But, to us, being underground is abhorrent." She walked to the coffin, the minions parting like water before her.
"On the contrary, Mortianna, not all vampires sleep below ground." Alexandre responded.
"The smart ones do." A small woman entered the room dressed in black leather from head to toe. This could only be Gabrielle. She smiled at Alexandre, her fangs catching the light. "Alexandre, so lovely to see you again. I see you've met my new friend, Mortianna."
The witch gave the vampire an indulgent smile before she redirected her attention to the men. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"You know why we're here." Quinn said. "We've come to retrieve Maeve, among other things."
"Maeve?" Mortianna feigned surprise. "She's doing quite well, I assure you. We've reached an agreement and she's perfectly content where she is."
"I'd prefer to hear that from her," he responded.
She shook her head. "I'm afraid that's impossible, she's quite busy right now. She has much to prepare for."
"You gave her the spell?"
"Oh, that and then some." She nodded, a satisfied smile on her face.
What the hell did that mean?
"You gave her more than the binding spell?" Val asked.
"I'll say," Gabrielle drawled.
"Where is she, Mortianna?" Quinn pressed.
"Oh, really, trying to spoil my fun." She rolled her eyes. "Her priorities weren't in line with our goals, so I made a gentle suggestion that she rethink before proceeding any further. I feel it's good to have a plan prior to battle."
"She's not on the premises," Val said. "I can't feel her."
Alexandre nodded agreement.
"You're so right, vampire." Mortianna waved her hands as if to signal the end of the discussion. "Let's talk about her later. I have a feeling we have many more stimulating things to discuss." She gave a chilly smile. "I'd like to invite you to partake of some refreshments. However, I have no fresh blood on hand." She shrugged.
Quinn was reluctant to let the subject of Maeve go, but, for the moment, he didn't see that he had any choice. All he could do was hope she'd remain safe until he could ascertain her whereabouts. "I'd like to talk to you about your plans with Gabrielle." He nodded in the female vampire's direction.
Mortianna laid a hand on her daughter's coffin. With a great show of unconcern, she traced one of the seams on the glass lid. "Why is
this any of your business, my son?"
"You made it my business when your actions threatened the lives of innocents." He moved through the lines of the minions, using magic to shove them aside so he didn't have to touch them. "Historically, the witches have never chosen sides nor have we participated on the Council. When Bliss was on the Council, she was careful to never speak for the witches, only the revenants. Now you're about to change all of that by joining with Mikhail and Gabrielle. What do you hope to gain from this?"
"Control of the Council, of course." She spoke slowly as if he were a child.
"What would you do with control of the Council? What do you hope to accomplish?"
She shrugged. "Wealth, more power, the elimination of vampires."
Gabrielle snapped to attention. "Hey, that's not what-"
"Shut up, you twit!" Mortianna snapped. "You're a silly child who should know better than to trifle with a witch of my powers." Her lip curled. "You and your kind sicken me."
As she ranted, Quinn slipped a hand into his pocket and opened the top of a small drawstring bag he'd deposited there earlier. Contained in the bag was a small amount of magical powder he'd created using dirt, a variety of crushed herbs and dried mother's milk.
Dipping his fingers into the talc-fine powder, he pinched a small amount between his thumb and forefinger. Withdrawing his hand, he rubbed his fingers together, disbursing the powder in a small but steady stream as he walked toward Mortianna.
"Vampires," she continued, "prey on humans and innocent little girls like mine. They take and destroy purity, subverting it into something dark and evil. I want no more of your kind to walk the planet."
Gabrielle flinched. "I-"
"Begone, fiend," Mortianna snapped, waving her hand in Gabrielle's direction.
The vampire gave a hiss as four of the minions turned and started in her direction. "You haven't heard the last of me!" With her gaze throwing daggers at them, she ran from the room, the minions hot on her heels.
"What about Bliss?" Val asked. "What would she say about this?"
Mortianna scowled at him. "My daughter can't say anything. She's dead. Why do you think I'm doing this?"
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 4 Page 11