Legacy & Spellbound

by Nancy Holder

  Then Amanda took a step toward her and shouted, “Holly, you liar! Where’s my sister?”

  “I have to go back for her,” Holly said, her emotions twisting her voice. She couldn’t stop staring as Rose hurried to Jer’s side with a large bath towel and draped it over his head.

  Finished, Rose took a step backward, whispering to Kari, “Who is he, Kari?”

  Kari was crying hard, her sobs coming in large, hot gasps. She turned on her heel and ran out of the room; seconds later, they heard a door slam.

  “Oh, my God, what if she’s gone outside?” Silvana asked. “What if the birds see her?” She hesitated, then rushed after her. “Kari? Come back!”

  Alonzo regarded Jer as the younger man fumbled his way to the settee and sat heavily down. “This is a warlock,” he announced.

  “Holly, damn it! Where’s Nicole?” Amanda’s voice shook. “You go get my sister! Now!”

  “I will,” Holly said, taking a deep breath. “Philippe, we have to re-create the spell.” She looked at Amanda. “I saw her, Amanda. I’ll get her.”

  “Why didn’t you this time?” Amanda shrieked at her. “Why did you bring him instead?” Her hand trembled as she pointed at Jer. “It’s always the Deveraux! Always Jer who comes first!”

  “She wouldn’t come without him,” Holly answered weakly, but she knew that that answer wasn’t worthy of her. I found Jer, and I didn’t give him a chance to say no. I pulled him in. He didn’t even know what the light was.

  “And this is how you repay her for being so kind?”

  Amanda’s accusations were cutting her to the quick—or maybe they were just hitting too close to home.

  “Philippe, make the portal!” Holly shouted. “Now!”

  Rose joined Philippe, Alonzo, Armand, and Pablo as they made a circle and began to chant in ancient Celtic. Sasha pulled Amanda to the circle, and each of them joined hands with Rose. A pinprick of light formed in the center of the circle, about three feet off the ground. It began to shine more brightly, and to grow. A low, almost subaudible hum emanated from the light.

  The light expanded into an ellipse, then split into rings, then split again. The individual rings began to shimmer and rotate as the hum increased in volume.

  There was the sound of a crash, and then the sphere became an elongated oval, pulsing with light from inside it.

  The portal had been successfully created.

  Now it was up to Holly. She closed her eyes and concentrated on Nicole, on merging with her vibrations, on becoming one with her. She was the only one in the group powerful enough to achieve such a union, and she knew why Amanda was so upset: Her entire concentration should have been filled with nothing but thoughts of Nicole, and yet she had obviously been thinking of Jer as well … for here he was.

  Then Holly saw Nicole in her mind’s eye … and what she saw, she did not like.

  Her cousin was dressed in ceremonial robes of black and red and bound onto an altar, her eyes staring unseeing as Eli Deveraux, and a man Holly didn’t recognize, both stood over her, chanting. “No,” she murmured.

  “What? What’s wrong? What do you see?” Amanda cried, stepping forward toward Holly, but Sasha firmly touched her shoulder, keeping her from breaking the circle.

  “Don’t break her concentration,” she warned. “Help us, Amanda.”

  Amanda shut her eyes and took up the chant, which Rose and Philippe had pieced together from two spells, one from the Mother Coven’s tradition and one from that of the Coven of White Magic.

  Holly rode the strength of Amanda’s sure image of her sister, using that to make herself connect more fully with her. Then she concentrated on Jer, who had draped the towel over his head, since he had just been with Nicole in person.

  Then, when she felt the most in communion with her cousin— who’s been drugged! —she stepped into the portal—

  —and Jer jumped in after her.

  “Jer,” she gasped as the intense white light surrounded them. She couldn’t see his scars in the light, just his vague outline. She could feel him, though, both his physical presence as well as his spiritual one.

  “Where is she?” he demanded.

  “Bound to an altar. Your brother’s there, and some other man—”

  “I’ll fight them. You free her.”

  Jer leaped from the light. Pulling her wits about herself, Holly followed after.

  The darkness of the room disoriented her; it was as if dozens of flashbulbs had gone off in her face and she stumbled, trying to clear her vision with a hasty spell.

  It worked a little; she squinted hard and rushed toward the altar, seeing Jer and the other two men in a filmy blur. Jer was hurtling fireballs at his brother; then he picked up an athame from the altar and was slashing it at the man Holly did not know. Eli deflected each projectile from his brother’s fists, laughing as he did so.

  “So, little brother, playing the white knight?” he taunted. “Or have you tricked Holly into racing right into our clutches?”

  With that, Eli flung a magical line of energy in Holly’s direction. It circled above her head, then plummeted downward over her arms. Instantly, it began to divide into more lines until she was captured in a glowing web.

  “Holly!” Jer cried, running toward her. But James forced him back with a barrage of pulses of magic that threw him across the room. She watched helplessly as Jer smacked the wall with a sickening thud and landed in a heap on the floor.

  “Goddess, give us the help we need, infuse him now with strength and speed,” she prayed, imploring the Goddess to strengthen Jer.

  Then Eli yanked on the end of the line, dragging her to her knees. She forced her head back so she could see what he was doing as she slid along the stone floor. With a crackle of energy he created a grappling hook and launched it at her. “Die, witch!” he shouted.

  The other man just watched with an amused expression. But while he was concentrating on her, Jer leaped to his feet and rushed the man, grabbing him around the shoulders, and hurled him at Eli. The momentum knocked Eli’s hand and the grappling hook sailed wide, clattering with a metallic sound against the wall.

  Jer shouted something in Latin that she didn’t understand, and the web disappeared. Then he flicked his fingers at Holly and she was hoisted as if by invisible hands to her feet. She raced to Nicole and snapped her fingers at the black velvet ropes around Nicole’s wrists and ankles, and they fell away.

  “Guards!” the other man shouted. “We have intruders!”

  Now it was Holly’s turn to defend them; she caused a blaze of fire to explode along the floor, creating a fiery barrier between the two men and her and Jer. Jer leaped to the altar and scooped Nicole up in his arms, then laid her over his back fireman style. As he raced toward the sphere of light, he cast another, stronger barrier behind Holly’s firewall. “Come on!” he shouted.

  Holly turned and joined him and Nicole in the portal. With a flash of energy, they disappeared.

  Once more she and Jer fell back into the sitting room; once more he fumbled for cover while Philippe ran to the inert Nicole. Her eyes were still open but frighteningly vacant.

  “Ah, ma belle,” he whispered, enfolding her hands in his. He brushed her masses of black curls from her forehead. “Has he put you in thrall?”

  “It’s what she was most afraid of,” Jer said.

  Jer’s mother knelt beside Nicole and studied her eyes. “No,” Sasha said finally. “She’s not in thrall. She’s been drugged.” She looked at Rose. “Do you have oak to burn? We need chamomile and rosemary. A quartz crystal,” she said briskly.

  “Of course.” Rose nodded and hurried to her pantry.

  Amanda plopped down next to Philippe. “Nicki,” she called, “wake up!”

  “I’m going to burn some sage as well,” Rose called from the back of the house.

  “That’s a good idea,” Sasha replied. She rubbed her hands briskly together; a heady mixture of cinnamon and ginger filled the room. After she ope
ned her hands, Holly saw the spices smeared on her palms. She leaned forward over Nicole and cupped Nicole’s eyes, murmuring words of healing.

  “What was going on back there?” Amanda asked Holly tearfully.

  “She was on an altar,” Holly told her. “Eli and some other guy were there.”

  “James Moore,” Jer filled in. “Heir to the throne of skulls.”

  “What were they going to do to her?” Amanda persisted.

  Jer shrugged beneath the towel he had found to conceal his disfigured features. “Sacrifice her, probably. They were going to try to conjure the Black Fire.”

  “Oh, my God,” Amanda said, covering her mouth. “Nicole.”

  “They were going to force Jer to help,” Holly guessed. She hesitated. “Or do you know how to do it? Conjure the Black Fire?”

  His head swiveled toward her. For a moment he said nothing, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know anything about it.” After a moment he added, “But I will tell you one thing. You’re not safe in London anymore. They’ll be coming after you.”

  And you, Holly filled in. Are we going to be hunted for the rest of our lives? Is this ever going to end?

  Kari had run two long London blocks before Silvana had managed to catch up with her. Kari had been crying bitter tears, hunched and sobbing as she ran, and Silvana felt sorry for her. Nobody seemed to get that she really loved Jer Deveraux, and she hated all the witchcraft and Holly, who had come between them. Holly and Amanda were cruel to her, and Sasha and Tommy politely tolerated her. Of all the Coven, Silvana herself seemed to be the only one who had any empathy for her tough situation.

  Silvana had tapped her on the shoulder, saying, “Kari, it’s me.”

  Kari turned abruptly, sliding in the snow. Her face was blotched from crying. “Did you see him?”

  “Yes, yes, I saw him,” Silvana soothed, holding out her arms.

  Kari stayed where she was, cupping her face and wildly shaking her head. “He looks like a monster!”

  “I know, Kari.”

  “It never would have happened if Holly hadn’t moved to Seattle,” she said. “We were happy. Studying at school, making love …”

  Silvana hadn’t known them then, but she had gotten the distinct impression that Jer had already started to get tired of their relationship before Holly had shown up. But she said nothing about that now. She tried another tack. “Kari, we can’t be out here. It’s dangerous. The falcons are looking for us everywhere. Now that … this has happened, our enemies will be searching for us even harder.”

  “I don’t care!” Kari yelled. “I’m so sick of all of this!”

  “Kari, please,” Silvana tried again. “We have to be careful.”

  “Why? We’re going to die, anyway! Eddie’s gone, and Kialish, and Amanda and Nicole’s mother… . They’re just picking us off one by one.” Her voice rose to a thin, high-pitched shriek. “I can’t stand this anymore!”

  Then she broke down, bursting into heavy sobs, this time allowing Silvana to bundle her up into her arms and hold her. No one on the street noticed them— we must still be cloaked, Silvana thought grate-fully—with passersby unconsciously skirting around the area where they stood.

  Nevertheless, Silvana was anxious as they stood out in the open. Her heart pounded, and her gaze swept the area while she waited for Kari to calm a bit. The street was busy with last-minute Christmas shoppers hurrying through the snow. Silvana felt a brief, sharp pang for Christmases past—simpler days—then sternly reminded herself that self-pity was a luxury she could not afford. Nor could she let Kari indulge herself for too long.

  “Kari … ,” she began, and then she froze, listening.

  She thought she heard a strange scuttling noise against the brick face of the building behind them.

  She turned, to see the shadow of something rapidly climbing an old drainpipe. It was too dark to make it out, but as she raised her head to follow the shadow, she heard the flapping of wings above the roof.

  “Let’s go,” she said urgently, and her tone must have alerted Kari that she meant it.

  The other girl lifted her head, looked up at the roof, and peered hard. Her lips parted, and she gestured with her head toward the roof. She must have seen something, for her swollen eyes grew wide and she looked back at Silvana with real fear.

  Watching us, Silvana mouthed.

  Kari swallowed hard and nodded.

  Yes, Silvana mouthed.

  They hurried together back to the flat, awkward in the mushy gray city snow. Silvana looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing more.

  Kari pulled open the door, and Silvana brought up the rear, shutting the door and leaning against it as if to keep out the shadows and the danger with the force of her weight.

  “Did you see anything?” Silvana asked her.

  Kari shook her head. “No. But I thought I heard a … bird?”

  “Me too,” she said grimly.

  “Deveraux falcons,” Kari murmured. “Or something else from the Supreme Coven. You tried to warn me. Once again, my freak-out endangers the whole coven,” she said bitterly.

  “They’ve never picked up on us yet,” Silvana reminded her. “But we have to let Holly know.”

  “Oh, God,” Kari moaned as she took off her jacket and put it on a hook beside the door. “She’ll probably turn me into a toad.” It was meant as a joke, but Silvana could see that she was genuinely afraid. With good reason: Holly was not the same kind and gentle girl Silvana had met last year.

  They trudged into the sitting room to find Nicole propped up with pillows on the settee. A crocheted afghan was wrapped around her shoulders. Philippe sat on an ottoman pulled up beside her and he was holding a cup of something hot and steaming.

  Holly glanced over at the two as they entered, her lip curling at the sight of Kari, and Silvana was disappointed all over again at the way she treated Kari.

  “Nicole,” Silvana said warmly. “How are you?”

  Nicole winced. “Headache. But I’m alive, so I can’t complain.”

  Philippe touched her cheek. “Grace a Dieu,” he murmured. She smiled gently at him and took the cup from his hand, sipped.

  Kari looked around the room and said, “Where’s Jer?”

  “Lying down,” Holly replied frostily. “In my room.”

  God, Holly, lighten up, Silvana told her silently. Then aloud, she said, “Something may have noticed us.” At the flash of anger on Holly’s face, she caught her breath. Then she raised her chin and added, “And we heard bird’s wings.”

  “Great,” Holly bit off. “Thanks, Kari.”

  Silvana took a step forward.

  Holly glared at her.

  “Kari’s been through a lot. We all have.”

  Holly opened her mouth to say something more, but Sasha came up and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Holly, why don’t you get some of that tea Nicole is having?” she asked pointedly. “It’s very soothing. There are more cups in the kitchen.”

  Frosty with silence, Holly jerked away and swept out of the room.

  Sasha grimaced apologetically at the two girls. “She’s … tense.”

  “No kidding,” Silvana grumbled. “That still doesn’t give her the right to be so mean to everybody.”

  Sasha exhaled slowly. “No. The fact that she’s High Priestess of our coven does, though.” She added under her breath, “Unfortunately.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Silvana insisted. “Hey, I didn’t elect her leader, and I say—”

  Sasha put up a hand. “That’s right. We didn’t elect her. She’s High Priestess by right. She can’t step down even if she wants to. As you have seen. So …” She moved her shoulders. “She gets a few privileges. Which include bad manners.”

  Kari rolled her eyes. Sasha wagged her finger at her and said in a low whisper, “I’d be a little more cautious around her, Kari. The pressure’s getting to be too much for her. Now,” she continued in a louder voice, “tell me about the bir
d.”

  “We think we heard the Deveraux falcons,” Silvana began. “We think we’re all in trouble.”

  Kari nodded in agreement. “Big trouble,” she said.

  Michael Deveraux: Seattle

  As Michael stood on the widow’s walk of his home in Lower Queen Anne, the December fogs wrapped around him and held him like a lovesick woman. Night moisture glistened on spiderwebs and encircled the streetlights like faery rings. He stood, listening to the night, wondering what was going on in London.

  I should be there, he thought, frustrated. I’m out of the loop.

  He had thrown the runes and read the entrails of a great many number of animals, and all the signs pointed to his staying in Seattle. But nothing is going on here. Everyone is in London, including Holly Cathers. And I swore to Sir William that I would kill her.

  He sighed and resumed his pacing. He was uneasy in his skin. Two more nights until Yule, both his sons were gone, and he was at a distinct disadvantage in the game they all were playing.

  Clouds cloaked the moon, casting him in darkness. It was cold, and there was snow all around him on the widow’s walk. The air smelled crisp, and he closed his eyes, remembering for a moment a child’s delight at the layers of white all around his house, and the hope of a day off from school. His father, a powerful warlock in his own right, used to take credit for those days of freedom, assuring his little son that he himself had caused the snow to fall, just for him.

  There was no reason not to believe that. The Deveraux had done far more powerful things, and recently.

  Last Beltane, we conjured the Black Fire, he reminded himself. I assumed the reason my spell finally worked was because we three were together, my sons and I. But we haven’t been able to do it since. I know. I tried, and failed… .

  “Laurent,” he called to his ancestor, “will you walk with me?”

  The stench of the grave heralded the materialization of the great duke who had ruled the Deveraux family when the Cahors had massacred them. Laurent had conjured the Black Fire that night, and it had been by the black flames that Isabeau had died. Finally, last year on the six hundredth anniversary of the massacre, he had revealed the chant to Michael that would call it forth. And it had worked.