by Nancy Holder
He turned to the four on his right. “You four shall seek out the witch known as Amanda Anderson, of the ancient House of Cahors. Destroy her.”
Those four nodded as well. Their faces reflected an eagerness to please, like that of dogs willing to die or kill for their masters.
He faced the four directly in front of him. “And you four shall seek out the witch known as Holly Cathers, of the ancient House of Cahors. Destroy her. Grind her bones until they are dust and then scatter that to the winds.”
They nodded eagerly, flexing the muscles along their shoulders. Sir William was pleased as he looked upon his creation. They would do their job well, never stopping, never resting. They would be completely relentless, fixed on one goal only. And when they had achieved it, the three witches would be dead.
He slowly lifted his arms into the air. “Now go, my children, and do my bidding.”
He tapped each one on the chest, infusing them with magic power. Each now had the ability to teleport through space. Slowly, the creatures vanished from his sight. When the last had gone, he smiled to himself. Let’s see the Rabbis top that.
Four of the Golems didn’t have far to go. The island of Avalon was heavily warded, though. Centuries of magic protected the place from all prying eyes and intruders. It wasn’t by chance that no ship had accidentally run aground on its shores. The magics used to protect the island were powerful and indiscriminate.
Therefore, when the Golems tried to teleport there, they were repulsed—violently. The four creatures stood up on a distant shore, only slightly dazed, and shook themselves off. Then, with the single-minded unity of a common purpose, they headed off in search of a boat to try to reach the island.
Seattle: Richard
I’m back in the jungle again, knee-deep in the hooplah, and it’s raining hell.
That was all Richard Anderson could think as the smoke stung his eyes and the sound of explosions pierced the air. He crouched down, the years seeming to fall off him as he zigzagged his way through the underbrush, the unconscious Barbara Davis-Chin draped over his shoulder. His eyes roved back and forth, probing the darkness.
By the time Dan Carter’s cabin exploded, dozens of witches Richard had never seen fought valiantly to protect Amanda, Nicole, and everyone else trapped inside. The warrior witches had failed; and many had died while he was making his break for the tree line. One of the foreign men in the cabin had died horribly, cut in half by a pincered monster. Richard was sure more of his people would have been slaughtered if the witches hadn’t come to their aid.
Thank God you showed, he thought. Thank God you fought. I’m going to make damn sure your sacrifice was not in vain.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he’d hoisted Barbara over his shoulder. One of the European men gathered Kari Hardwicke into his arms and took off without a single look back.
Richard had seen Amanda and Tommy escape toward the north. He himself was moving east to force the enemy to divide its forces. His strategy was simple: to increase the number of targets for whoever was attacking them. If everybody moved in one large group, it would be easier for the enemy to pick them off.
Where’s Nicole? he wondered now. Where’s my other little girl?
A tree exploded in a shower of sparks to his left, and he jerked his face away, shielding his eyes. A distance behind him, a woman screamed, high and shrill. Her voice was cut off suddenly, in a gurgling rasp.
Oh God, don’t let that be one of mine.
Forcing himself to move on, he stepped on a branch that cracked like a rifle. Wild animals shrieked with panic as the fire burned them out.
Richard stumbled over a smoking tree root; then, as he caught himself, the ground erupted with fire. A white-hot rock smacked him on his cheek. He flinched but stolidly kept going. A second explosion shot a tree into the air like a missile; then, from the gaping hole it left behind, a scaly demon with long ebony claws yanked itself from the earth.
Richard shifted Barbara’s weight and kicked the creature in the jaw so hard, its head snapped back. Another kick snapped the bones in its neck; with a shriek, the thing collapsed on the ground, a jumbled heap of bones and horns. Richard leaped over it and raced on.
Another demon jumped in front of Richard, howling like a banshee. With his free hand, Richard unsheathed a knife with a wicked four-inch blade from his belt. He lunged forward and, in a merciless arc, slashed once at the creature’s throat. It staggered to the side. He didn’t know if he had actually injured it or just startled it. He didn’t stop to look; he kept running.
A roaring sound punctuated by sharp snaps propelled the air behind him. The sap in the burning trees exploded like gunpowder, and Richard ducked as a branch went sailing over his head. It flew smack into the face of another demon, who hurtled itself toward Richard.
He changed directions and kept running.
He didn’t know where the others were or if they were even alive. There would be time enough to worry about that later. Behind him he heard another unearthly shriek and felt something swipe at his back. Something like a claw scratched his skin. He did the only thing he could do: He kept running.
Seattle: Michael Deveraux
Holly Cathers was nuts.
As Michael’s surprise began to ebb, a malicious wave of joy took its place.
The strongest witch on earth had lost her mind. And she was begging her mortal enemy for help.
It was too delicious. But it was true.
Standing beside him in the ashes of the cabin where the witches had made their stand, his ancestor, Duc Laurent, of the House of Deveraux, gave Holly an appraising once-over, then chuckled and shook his head. He locked gazes with Michael, obviously savoring the moment with the living, titular head of his family dynasty. For six hundred years, Laurent had waited for a moment such as this.
The Duc looked good for a man dead six hundred years. Then again, it helped that he had managed to give himself a new flesh-and-blood body so that he was no longer appearing as a moldering corpse.
“Possession,” he intoned in his medieval French accent. “How did you manage it, my boy?”
In wonder, Michael shook his head. “I didn’t. The God has smiled on us, Laurent.”
Holly burst into pitiful, houndlike howls and clawed wildly at her face. She smacked her bleeding cheeks, yanked at her hair. Then she sank forward and buried her face into the smoking earth that bore the ashes of her coven. Abruptly she jerked up again, sobbing and waving her hands.
“Stay free of contact,” Laurent warned him. “It’s like a contagion. She could infect you.”
Michael took that in; he knelt cautiously beside her, careful not to touch her or get in reach of her flailing hands.
“Make it stop,” she whimpered, looking at him out of wild eyes. It was obvious she had no idea who he was. Wisps of hair were plastered to her face by streaks of blood. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth. “Make it stop, please.” She threw back her head and screamed, “I can’t bear this!”
“We can,” Michael assured her. “We can make it stop.”
She sobbed and began blithering, swaying like a cobra, lacing and unlacing her hands as she whispered to herself, “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop …”
Tears sluiced down her cheeks. She was filthy, and she stank.
“I’m supposed to kill her,” Michael said, bemused. “Sir William will be much happier with me once I do.” He cocked his head, watching her. “If I cure her … aren’t I aiding and abetting the enemy?” He smiled. “Holly Cathers, begging me for help. Begging me for anything.”
“Oui . It is a moment,” Laurent concurred. “But if you kill her, mon fils, the best you will be is Sir William’s loyal follower. You will lose this compelling opportunity to raise our House to its rightful place.”
Laurent was telling Michael nothing new. And he already knew what he would do. Still, it was so pleasant to have this special time, and to share it across the spans of time and space.
> “Make it stop,” she hissed, “stop, stop, stop.”
Michael nodded at her. “I will,” he said slowly and deliberately, hoping his words could find a way to sink into her boiling brain, “but you have to do everything I tell you. You must obey me without question. Do you understand?”
She nodded fiercely. “Yes, I’ll do anything you say, anything. Just make it stop !”
“Perhaps something in the Nightmare Dreamtime crawled its way into her mind. Several somethings, by the looks of her,” he said to Laurent. “Could that be so?”
“Vraiment. I would assume so.”
Michael wondered idly if his son, Jeraud Deveraux, was still alive. Jer and Holly had been in the Nightmare Dreamtime, trying to rescue one of Holly’s loved ones, when Michael had finally managed to create the Black Fire again. It had been a triumphant moment … much like this one.
Michael nudged Holly with the toe of his expensive Italian boot. She didn’t even notice, just moaned and kept rocking back and forth faster and faster. He had never seen anything quite like it.
He stood slowly and stared around at the hell that surrounded them. Fire blazed everywhere, escaping into the forest. It was too bad about the trees, really; they had been quite lovely. More casualties of the Deveraux-Cahors war. He bowed his head for a moment in the appearance of reverence and muttered a prayer to the God to allow quick rebirth to the trees.
He smirked to himself. What was it that Treebeard said in The Lord of the Rings ? Ah yes: A wizard should know better than to destroy the forest . Unlike Saruman, Michael refused to incur the wrath of the forest gods and guardians.
New trees would spring up, though, from the ashes. That was the beauty of nature, the cycle always continued. He glanced down at Holly, and a smile twisted his lips. For Holly and her friends, though, there would be no renewal, no rebirth—only death.
That’s fine by me.
Seattle: Amanda
The new day dawned at last, and the sunrise dripped with ravishing colors—prismatic, jewel-toned hues of tangerine and vermilion refracting on the smoke.
Amanda was surprised. She had thought it would never come, or if it did, that she wouldn’t be alive to see it. Yet, the sun was there, shedding watery sunlight on the charred bones of what had once been an exquisite forest. By its light, Amanda could see a little motel, perched just beyond the edge of the trees. Exhausted, bruised, and broken, she began to limp toward it.
Beside her, Tommy shuffled along, dragging himself painfully along. He had stayed with her throughout the night, and she knew she owed him her life for that. Had he not been there she would have lain down and died any number of times. His strength had buoyed her, saved her. Now, as she detected his gasps of pain in every step he took, she knew she must do the same for him.
She clasped his hand and willed her energy to mingle with his, willed her battered body to aid his so that they might share each other’s pain and help heal each other. A strangled sob from him was proof that it was working, and tears stung her eyes as his pain washed through her. He, too, was bruised and broken, and her cracked ribs groaned in sympathy with his.
He has borne so much for me, because he loves me . Tommy didn’t have to be here, but he was. With a rush of conviction she knew that he would always be there, and that with the last breath he drew he would be calling her name.
Somehow that made things a little bit better. Nicole was gone, kidnapped by Eli and James. Holly was insane and perhaps dead by now. Tante Cecile, a woman who had been almost an aunt to Amanda herself, had died trying to save Holly. The Goddess alone knew where the others were, including her father, and if they were even alive. Still, Tommy was here.
And so was the Goddess. Lying in the dirt for hours, Amanda had heard the still, small voice that so many others had claimed to hear. The soft female voice whispered words of encouragement to Amanda, commanding her not to give up, to keep going.
She had always believed that the Goddess existed. It’s kinda hard to question when you can suddenly levitate stuff and dead ancestors start speaking through your cousin. Still, despite all the supernatural stuff, the Goddess had never appeared or spoken to her. She had only appeared to Holly. At first, Amanda had been jealous, and then, as things got really crazy, relieved. Sometimes it was just easier not to have so much … reality to deal with.
Amanda had never been a leader, but she knew that was going to have to change; the Goddess had told her heart that, had spoken to her and lifted her to her feet back in the forest when all she’d wanted to do was lie in the dirt. She felt like either laughing or crying, and she wasn’t sure which. She was an unlikely leader, as the only one who had ever followed her anywhere was Tommy.
Now she turned to look at him. They were in thrall, the Lady to the Lord, and she was so very, very happy about it. Whatever magic and strength each of them had at their command would be shared with the other. He looked like he was going to drop from exhaustion. That was pretty much how she felt. They both needed rest, and soon.
She squeezed his hand. The motel didn’t seem so far off; she figured if they could just hold on for five more minutes, they would make it.
He turned to her and said, “Agreed.”
Her lips parted. “Did you read my mind?”
Tommy smiled faintly. “I’ve always been able to read your mind, Amanda. In my own way.”
“I was pretty clueless about you,” she confessed.
“I know. But now—”
“Now.” She leaned toward him for a kiss. It was a very sweet moment.
They trudged on, though she was buoyed as they stumbled the last of the distance in silence. Amanda gradually became preoccupied with willing one foot to step in front of the other, and her thoughts about the Goddess and Tommy faded into the background until they were nothing more than a gentle hum in the back of her mind. A few more steps and they would be there.
She looked up and spied a lone figure staring at them. It was hard to tell through the torn clothing and the burned hair and face, but he looked familiar. They staggered to him, and her heart jumped. It was Pablo, the youngest member of the White Magic Coven. The boy looked wild, and his left eye gazed fiercely at her. His right eye was swollen shut.
Relief flooded through her to find someone else alive. She nearly ran the last couple of feet, dragging Tommy behind her.
At last they stood face-to-face. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then tears welled in Pablo’s eyes. “I could feel you,” he said, his voice sharp, almost accusing. “Back in the forest I could feel you. I couldn’t reach you, but I knew that you would end up here, so I came.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“A few hours.”
She stared at him. Pablo had a gift that none of the rest of them did: He could read minds, feel people’s thoughts, even track people using them. She felt her throat constrict as she asked, “And the others?”
He shook his head slowly. “I do not know. Once, I thought I felt Philippe, but duende, his life force, was flickering.” He took a deep breath. “I have felt no one else since the cabin.”
She nodded her head slowly.
“We should get cleaned up and try to get some rest,” Tommy ventured. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, and the sound startled her.
“You’re right,” she said, looking uneasily toward the lobby. “I don’t have anything with me, though—no identification, no credit cards.”
“Good.” Tommy was grimly satisfied. “We don’t want to use anything that can be traced.”
“But, I don’t have any cash, either. Do you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nope.”
“Then how will we pay?” she protested, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to keep her ribs from shifting.
Tommy turned and looked at her fondly. “Ms. Anderson, I’ve always been a standup guy, right?”
“Yes,” she said, somewhat confused.
“You’ve never known me to steal o
r cheat or lie?”
“No, never.”
“Then take that into account when I tell you this. We don’t have any money? Not a problem. You’re a witch. Do a damn spell.”
She nearly laughed in shocked embarrassment. Of course Tommy was right. They had just survived a war, and the three of them needed shelter. She set her jaw and turned on her heel, leaving the two guys behind.
She marched up to the front desk and looked the startled clerk straight in the eye. “I need a quiet room with two beds.”
“I’ll need a credit card and some identification,” the clerk stuttered.
“I already showed them to you,” she told him, her voice dropping lower. She willed her words to wash over him and through him, imbued them with the power to cloud his perceptions of reality.
His eyes glazed over slightly. “I’m sorry, you’re right. How long will you be staying?”
“I’ll let you know,” she assured him.
He nodded absently and handed her a room key. She took it, gave him one last mental push for good measure, and walked out the door. Outside, her knees shook a little, but she kept walking.
She collected Tommy and Pablo, and they all made it to the room. It was clean and much larger than she had expected.
She turned and took her first good look at Tommy since the entire thing had begun. He stared back at her with eyes open wide, and she felt a strange urge to laugh.
Tommy’s eyebrows were completely gone, sacrificed to the fire that had tried to consume all of them. Without them, his face looked almost comical. Reflexively she put her hand to her own brows. They felt like they were still there.
With a puzzled look, Tommy mimicked her motion. His eyes widened when he realized what she had been staring at. He turned and gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror. “Talk about playing with fire,” he quipped.
Amanda felt an intense surge of love for him. Tommy had always known how to lighten her mood. She slowly turned her head until she, too, faced the mirror.
She didn’t recognize herself. Staring back from the mirror was a young woman with tattered clothes. Dried blood soaked what was left of the material in several places, most noticeably over her ribs on her right side. What wasn’t covered with blood was caked with dirt. Her eyes were wild, flashing underneath a mop of burnt hair. The left side of her face was completely covered in blood.