by T. G. Ayer
Allegra lifted an eyebrow. “It isn’t as though you have given me much of a choice, sir.” Her own tone was cutting, though not a fitting response to his condescension.
Langcourt let out a loud laugh, the sound grating on Allegra’s ears.
“I suggest you get on with whatever it is you plan to do. I’m not a patient woman.”
Langcourt snorted. “Barely a Pythia for five moons and you already bear the arrogance of your line.”
“A line that has been decimated thanks to you,” Allegra spat, her eyes flashing with fury. In that moment, she wished she had the power to blast a stream of flames at the man and incinerate him on the spot. Then she amended her fantasy; he didn’t deserve such a quick death.
“You, my dear Allegra, I had almost missed. I’d been certain we had found all of you, but it’s clear that somewhere along the line the oracles have managed to thwart our mission.”
“Our mission? Why aren’t you taking all the credit for the serial murders of my family?”
Langcourt shrugged. “First, it is not murder when one is avenging oneself. And second, I have not been alone in my crusade. My father and brothers have been part of the mission for all these years.”
Allegra blinked. “The men on the safari,” she whispered. “Right. He was your father.”
“How do you know about that?” he growled.
Allegra smirked. “You touched me. I had a vision. Simple enough.”
Langcourt’s jaw tightened as he considered her words, then he laughed, dismissing her with a flick of his fingers. “It matters little now. You will see your end very soon. And then I will be free of you and your family.”
“What do you have against us?”
Langourt glanced at Allegra, as though startled at her voice.
“This crusade you and your family have carried out over the centuries—”
“Millenia. Three to be specific.” Langcourt smirked as though proud of the length of time in which he’d spent killing people in cold blood.
Allegra startled at the revelation. Three thousand years. About as long as the Pythia line had existed.
Was this man really three millennia old? Allegra shook her head. “You're looking a little worse for wear. Not killing any innocent children in recent times?” Allegra asked, fury filling her to the brim.
Langcourt laughed. “That was an unfortunate attempt at holding the effects of time at bay. A purely temporary fix.”
“So you created this Society of Hermes as a front to perform those rituals? To consume the fresh blood so it would boost your fading immortality?” Allegra asked, attempting to keep him talking. And perhaps a little curious as to how the man’s mind worked.
Langcourt nodded, tapping his finger on his desk. “Yes, but it didn’t work as planned.”
“How did you become immortal? Perhaps you ought to chase down your origins and figure out a less deadly way to extend your…life.” Allegra had wanted to throw a few words at the man, pathetic and sorry accounting for only two of her options. But she’d bitten the words back and opted for civility. She needed information. Information would be her weapon to bring Langcourt to justice.
Langcourt sighed deeply and got to his feet. “Perhaps I ought to show you. There is little need for secrecy now that I have you where I want you. If all goes to plan, I may not even need to kill you.”
Allegra shook her head. “You were about to tell me how you became immortal,” Allegra probed again.
Langcourt was already walking out the door. “I was born this way,” he said as he led her down the hall.
The villa was a warren of corridors within which Allegra had lost her way within bare minutes. Langcourt led her toward the center of the residence and then into what appeared to be a small room.
It turned out to be a stairwell that led deep within the island, the stairs made of stone and carved directly into the rocky center of the mountain.
A cool breeze caressed Allegra’s skin, and the further she descended, the more moist the air became. They were nearing water, of that much she was certain. Perhaps there was a second exit within this hidden chamber; Allegra would have to keep her eyes wary as she descended.
The stairs ended, and led Allegra into a large grotto at the center of which was a structure that struck Allegra as terribly familiar.
Circular patterns were carved around the stone floor of the grotto, each smaller than the next until they ended at the steps to the central, dome-ceilinged structure.
As Allegra stared at it, another image flickered in her mind. A tall man staring in fascination at an object standing within the small temple.
Allegra blinked, and a piece fell into place.
Atlantis.
Had Langcourt somehow discovered, or perhaps obtained Goran’s stolen amphora? But why would Langcourt have gone through so much trouble to build a replica of the layout of Atlantis, to place the temple at its very center?
“Atlantis?” she asked softly, barely aware that she’d spoken.
“How do you know of it?” he asked, his tone harsh, accusing.
“I believe the answer would be that I saw it in a vision,” Allegra replied, her face neutral.
“What vision? What did you see?”
Allegra shrugged. “I am not entirely sure what it meant. I recall seeing this place. And I saw the man who found it.” Allegra took a step around the temple structure, and her view of the center was no longer obstructed by the column.
And her heart stilled.
In the center of the round domed temple structure sat a bronze amphora.
“Dear merciful Apollo,” Allegra said on a gasp as she stared at the vessel. Allegra turned from the amphora to focus her fury on Langcourt. “Where did you get that? Is this what you do? Steal your way through the centuries?”
Even as she said the words, Allegra’s heart thudded faster and faster.
Langcourt was immortal. The amphora was found in Atlantis. Goran had turned into an imbecilic wife-beater obsessed with this very vessel.
Goran had retained an unusually youthful countenance, which had troubled Lydia so greatly.
Allegra turned to face Langourt. “Which one are you?”
Langcourt flinched. “What? What do you mean?”
“Which of Goran’s sons are you?” Allegra asked, the names flashing in her mind. She began to recite them, “Claudius, Severianus, Aquilinus, Iulius.”
Allegra’s eyes widened. How had she not seen it before? It had been staring her in the face the entire time.
“You’re Lydia’s son?” she whispered, the heat of tears burning her eyes.
Langcourt flinched, taking a sharp step away from her. “Do not utter that name in my presence. She is dead to me.”
“Did you even know her to say such a thing?”
“My father told us enough.”
“Goran fed you stories to steer you away from her wisdom. He wanted to keep you under his control.” Allegra paused, her eyes darting around the room. “What happened to him?”
Langcourt surged toward Allegra, his arm raised, finger pointing. “Your people, your murdering assassins killed my father and all my brothers. Did you really think there was no blood on your hands Pythia?” Lancourt’s rage overflowed, spit flying from his mouth as he flung the accusations at her.
Allegra shook her head. “I don’t know about any assassins other than you and your brothers. What you have done? To your own family?”
“Not my family. The Pythias are not my family.”
Allegra stilled, hearing the rage in the man’s voice. “Then who is your family? Your father is Goran? And your mother is Lydia?”
Langcourt smirked. “You know this already, so why repeat the question?”
“I wanted to clarify. Do you know who Lydia was?” When Langcourt sent her a condescending glare, Allegra continued, “Do you know what Lydia was?”
Langcourt rushed Allegra, but she was faster. Opening her hand at her back, she felt Xales place t
he hilt of her bejeweled dagger in her palm, and in a smooth move she drew it around and pressed the deadly sharp blade against this throat.
“Do you know what your mother was, Severianus? Apart from a woman abused both mentally and physically by a man who was supposed to be caring for her?”
Langcourt shook his head, his eyes reflecting his uncertainty more than the fear of being sliced to death.
“Lydia was the first ever Oracle of Delphi.”
“No,” whispered Langcourt. “That is not true. The oracles are the reason we are always dying, always having to replenish our powers.”
Allegra let out a dry laugh.
Everything suddenly made perfect sense to her now. “No. They were not the reason. You and your brothers were the product of the union of a Pythia and a man so obsessed with immortality that he stole the Elixir of Immortality from Atlantis. He kept it for himself, drank it until it sent him mad. Mad enough to beat the living hell out of his wife. He turned his sons away from her for fear that they would one day discover what they did to receive true immortality from their sire. That the only way they could retain that long life was to spill the blood of a Pythia.”
“No that is not true.”
“I think you know it is. He told you that the oracles were the reason for your failing immortality. He never told you that your own mother was the first Pythia to be named. He never told you that he killed Lydia with his bare hands because she opposed his desire to keep the amphora for himself. He never told you that that every single pythia you killed were the daughters of your mother, every single one of those women you and your brothers have been killing for three thousand years were your sisters, your family.”
Allegra found herself breathless at her monologue, and found a shocked Langcourt, staring from her face to the amphora.
“It’s empty you know. He consumed it all, every last drop of the Elixir is gone.”
“All he wanted was for us to live,” Langcourt insisted. “And the Pythias sent their assassins after us, shadowing us everywhere we went.”
“Is it any wonder that they tried to avenge the deaths of the Pythias? I don’t know of any Pythian Assassins, but it seems to me after Lydia was murdered by your father, the priests and priestesses of Delphi already would have had a good sense of what Goran’s intentions were. And if they didn’t know when Lydia was killed, they would have known when Lucia was killed.”
Langcourt shook his head. “No. Back then there were no Pythian Assassins. Claudinius was sent to kill Kassandra, but he failed and our father made a second attempt.”
Allegra snorted, driving the blade into Langcourt’s throat. “It’s probably a good thing he failed. But then again, with his hands dirty with the blood of his wife, what difference would the blood of his daughter have been?”
Langcourt let out a low cry, and Allegra let go of him as he staggered and sucked in air, as though struggling to breathe.
A part of Allegra grieved for this man, who now lay on the floor broken, centuries of blood on his soul, bearing the responsibility of the decimation of his entire bloodline.
But Langcourt was shaking his head, denying the truth. He surged to his feet, propelling himself at her. And Allegra merely reacted.
She raised her dagger. And Langcourt slammed into it, the blade sinking hilt deep between his ribs, straight into his heart.
She let out a cry, her instinct warning her that this man, despite everything he’d done, was still family. Even though the visions of him killing Cathenna still haunted her dreams.
Langcourt sagged against Allegra, his weight resting full upon her body, forcing her to lower him to the floor, the dagger still embedded within his chest. He lay back, swallowing hard, struggling for breath. “They’re all dead,” he whispered. “We killed them all…” Tears pooled in his eyes and ran down the side of his face.
Allegra found it hard to feel sorry for him, but she forced herself to shake her head. “Not all.”
He coughed, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “You,” he said, voice gurgling, “you lived.”
“Not only me.” Allegra shook her head, refusing to say more, but the sight of the surge of elation in his eyes was her undoing. She let out a soft sigh and as the light faded from his eyes she whispered the words in his ear, “Cathenna’s daughters all lived. Our family will survive.”
The words spoken, Allegra watched as Langcourt—no, Severianus—took his last breath.
The man who had dogged Allegra’s steps and had been so intent on killing her was dead.
Her only living blood-relative that she had touched with her own hands was dead.
Chapter 42
“There she goes again, stealing all the glory,” said a voice from behind Allegra.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Athena. A rueful smile spread on Allegra’s face. “Sorry? It was a life-or-death situation.”
Her words echoed around the strange cavern that Langcourt had built beneath his villa.
“We saw that. Looked more like a reunion to me,” said Max, his eyes dark with sadness as he walked over to her. “I’m so sorry you had to be the one.” He gathered Allegra up within his arms and held on tight, feeding his energy into her body.
Allegra hugged him back and then took a step away, a little awkward what with them being in the same room as Langcourt’s corpse.
Xales appeared at Allegra’s right-hand side, his expression solemn too.
Allegra glared at him, then bestowed the same expression upon Max and Athena. “You were all here? You ever heard of lending a hand? I was almost killed.”
“No, you weren’t,” said Xales, chuckling. “You had it under control.”
“Fine. You do not have to say it. I’ve heard it before.”
Despite Allegra’s words, Xales continued, “If you had really needed my help, I would have assisted.”
Allegra glanced over at Max.
“For once, I agree with Xales,” Max replied, trying and failing to quell his grin. “You were in control the entire time.”
Then, Athena stepped close and threw a hand around Allegra’s shoulders. “I’m with those guys,” she said as she began to guide Allegra out of the Atlantis replica room.
Allegra glanced over her shoulder at Max who hurried to catch up. “Lusitania?”
“Neptune found the device in the old chasm from the last quake. It was boarded up a century ago with lead-lined sheets which messed with his ability to hear.”
“And the added advantage of that was the lead suppressed the signal so the bomb wouldn’t have gone off even if Neptune hadn’t gotten to it in time,” Athena said, smiling brightly.
Allegra sighed. Though filled with sadness for Langcourt’s terrible life and tragic end, Allegra felt the love of the people who surrounded her.
She was looking forward to returning home to the Charrúa estate, to writing everything down in the Codex Pythia Allegra. So many things had fallen into place at the same moment that her head was still spinning. But, even though it was all over, there were still a few things that needed to be recorded, if only for the next Pythia’s education. There was still the matter of Jocasta and what could possibly be done to help her mother in the future. And as Allegra had told Langcourt, the family had survived. Cathenna’s daughters were somewhere.
Whether they were alive was something Allegra needed to know, and she planned to do whatever she could to find out. But, in the meantime, all she wanted to do was to go home.
She let out a soft laugh. “I believe our work here is done”
Max leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Until next time.”
Allegra grinned as she replied, “Until next time.”
~THE END~
Allegra’s adventures continue in
Dark Prophecy
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Acknowledgments
A special thanks to my JIT readers who helped make Shadow Sight even better: Teresa S, Bryan Ellis, and Julie Pederick. And thank you to the rest of the JIT and ARC readers who took the time to read and review Shadow Sight. Thank you for all of your support!
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