Legacy & Spellbound

by Nancy Holder

  Jer was shaking from head to toe. It was the first human he had killed, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He glanced over at Richard and saw the steely look in his eyes. It’s not his first, and if this night goes as planned, it won’t be his last, Jer realized.

  He shuddered. Adrenaline was rushing through his body so that all his senses felt alert, heightened. He would have killed me if I’d let him, he told himself, thinking of the fallen guard.

  They entered a dead-end alley. At the back was a door, set low into a brick wall and blending so well with it that it would go unnoticed by most. The glamours on it were strong.

  Jer nodded to indicate that this was the entrance. He took one of the concussion grenades from a pouch on his belt. He pulled the pin and sent it sailing through the air. It exploded against one of the wards with a low boom. Windows rattled in the buildings around them, and Jer could feel it in his bones. Hope that did the trick, he thought.

  Moments later, the rest of the Coven raced up to him. When no portals opened spilling forth demons, Jer realized that it must have worked.

  “All right, everyone inside quickly before they realize what’s happened,” Jer instructed, opening the door.

  They all spilled inside. Holly touched his hand as she passed. Once they were all in, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

  “‘Into darkness deep as hell,’” Alex muttered.

  “What?” Jer whispered.

  “It’s a Phantom of the Opera reference,” Holly explained quietly.

  She and Alex exchanged a glance that made Jer instantly uncomfortable.

  “Quit the chitchat,” Nicole hissed.

  Jer moved back forward to re-establish himself at the front, leading the way through the twisting corridors. They hadn’t gone more than a hundred feet when all hell broke loose.

  Suddenly there were warlocks everywhere, bursting from side passages and hidden doors. It seemed as though they were coming out of the walls. And, then, bewilderingly, they rushed past the group and kept going.

  Jer blinked. What is this, the Twilight Zone? And then he heard it, a deep keening sound—it was supposed to indicate a breach of the premises. If we’re not it, though, what is going on?

  Another warlock came thundering down a side passage.

  “What’s going on?” Jer shouted.

  “Michael Deveraux,” the man panted. He turned to glance at Jer and then stopped dead. “Hey, you’re—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, he died in his tracks, a knife buried in his chest. Philippe strode forward and yanked the weapon back out, wiping the blood on his clothes.

  “All right then, let’s go,” Jer said.

  “Can you tell where they’re headed?” Holly asked.

  “Looks like the throne room,” he said grimly. “Makes sense. The Deveraux have been wanting to take that throne back from the Moores for generations.”

  Eli Deveraux stood next to James Moore as they both surveyed the carnage. I had no idea my father had recruited so many of the Supreme Coven, Eli thought.

  He ducked as a stray fireball exploded in the air above his head. He straightened slowly and turned to look at James. “You know they don’t care about us,” he said.

  James turned to eye him coldly. “What?”

  “Your father and mine—they don’t care about us. Neither of them has ever been able to see beyond himself. We’ll always be pawns in their games.”

  A warlock raced by, engulfed in flames, and Eli watched him for a moment before turning back toward James.

  “He threatened to kill me,” James said so quietly, Eli had to strain to hear him. “He told me it was time to choose sides and that if I sided with your father, he would flay me alive. For starters.”

  “I think the only reason I’m still alive is my father’s been too lazy to kill me.”

  James snorted. “They think we’ll be content to live our lives in their shadows, never wanting more than what they give us.”

  “I’m tired, tired of watching my back. We need to stop fighting each other and start fighting those who oppose us.”

  James nodded. “We should do something about it.”

  “Agreed,” Eli said. “And, James, just one more thing.”

  “What?” the other grunted.

  “When this is done, I want you to divorce Nicole.”

  A lightning bolt shot into the wall between them. When the smoke cleared, James turned full toward him. “Divorce her? I planned on killing her. Why?”

  “Because I want to marry her,” Eli said, hardly believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I think the kid could be mine.”

  “It could as easily be mine,” James said, a subtle threat in his voice.

  “I’m willing to take that chance,” Eli told him, looking him square in the eye.

  A week before—hell, an hour before—they would have tried to kill each other. Now, though, James nodded slowly. He extended his hand. “Agreed. Now, let’s go kick some ass.”

  Holly couldn’t help but gasp as she stood surveying the scene. Everywhere she looked, warlocks were engaged in combat. They’re so busy fighting one another, they don’t even notice us, she marveled.

  The same could not be said of the other denizens of the dark. The demons she had been expecting at every turn suddenly exploded upon them, as though they had all been waiting to attack at once.

  “Heads up!” Holly yelled, hurling fireballs off her fingertips. Several demons dropped to the ground. One, though, continued to stride forward, laughing. It looked human but for its twisted face and the fact that the fireballs splatted against him with no effect.

  Before Holly could react, Amanda exploded into action. She rushed forward, shouting and twirling a baton. For one moment she looked like a crazed member of a marching band. The illusion faded, though, when Amanda smashed the end of the baton into the creature’s nose.

  With a roar of pain, the thing fell to its knees, clawing at its face. Amanda pulled back and then drove the end of the baton upward into the nose again. The creature fell backward, dead.

  “Works,” Amanda said shortly. Another demon rushed them, roaring. Amanda twisted around and drove her fist up into the creature’s abdomen. It, too, fell with a thud. Amanda turned and gave Holly a brief nod.

  Holly said the first thing that came to mind: “You go, girl.”

  Then there was no more time to stand and wonder how her cousin had soaked up so much information while in the bathroom puking her guts out. It was Holly’s turn to put down some demons.

  She spun in a circle, fireballs rolling like waves from her fingers. A high-pitched scream caused her to twist and throw her hands up. Too late! A shiny black demon breathing smoke was upon her. Then suddenly it exploded before her.

  As bits of demon fluttered to the ground, Holly stared through the smoke to see Eve. The warlock gave her a brief salute before limping on toward the fray. Holly stared after her. She had seen only a glimpse of Eve, once, but Amanda had told her enough about the warlock that there was no mistaking her.

  Something hit Holly hard, and she tumbled to the ground. She lay still for a moment, the wind knocked out of her. She glanced up expecting to see a demon and instead came face-to-face with a grinning warlock. He slammed her head into the floor, and her vision dimmed for a moment.

  Jer knocked the warlock off of her with a sideways blow. Amanda stepped up from behind and hurled a fireball directly into the man’s face. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony for a moment before dying.

  Suddenly a wave seemed to ripple through the air, and Amanda gasped aloud. Wind Moon, anyone who kills a witch or warlock on this night gains their power, Holly thought.

  Then Amanda and Jer were off again, whirling dervishes dealing out death at every turn. Holly lay still a moment, trying to regain her breath as she assessed the battlefield. Everyone seemed to be holding their own. She struggled to a sitting position.

  “Holly!” Barbara Davis-Chin
shouted. “Are you okay?”

  Holly turned to look at her just in time to see a demon walk up behind Barbara and cut her in half.

  “No!” Holly screamed. Shock ripped through her. All the effort to save Barbara had been in vain.

  A hand grabbed the back of her collar and hauled her to her feet. She swung around, a fireball in hand.

  “Keep moving!” Richard shouted at her, his face inches from hers.

  She nodded through the haze of pain. Richard clapped her on the shoulder and then he was off.

  Holly turned in time to see a wave of warlocks descending upon them. Suddenly they were all flung backward as though by a gale. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex, his hands raised in the air. The war-locks hit the far wall and were pulverized against it, bits of blood and bone flying everywhere. A ripple shimmered back across the room and slammed into Alex. The powers of the dead warlock were bestowed upon him in that moment.

  Shaking her head in amazement, Holly turned to punch a horned demon that had its hand around Pablo’s throat. She waded into the creature, and it dropped Pablo. She poured all her rage into every blow and kept pounding until the creature slumped to the ground. She didn’t know if it was dead or only unconscious, so she took a step back and fried it with a fire-ball for good measure.

  There were more demons to fight, and Holly loosed her rage on them. From time to time the others entered her line of sight, and so she knew they were still alive.

  She downed one and turned just in time to see Tommy ripping the head off another. She heard the sound of the rifle as Richard shot monster after monster. They exploded in a fabulously grotesque manner, showering each of them with gore. She noted that in every case Richard fired at creatures only when they were in front of walls, careful not to send bullets toward any demon standing in front of a member of the Coven.

  She stood panting, looking around at the bodies of the dead demons. She glanced at the others, and they all shook their heads, not knowing if that was all.

  Jer motioned them to follow, and in moments they were in another room. In the middle of it she saw Michael Deveraux.

  “Jer!” someone screamed.

  Then she saw Kari, running toward them. Michael Deveraux must have heard her as well, for he looked up and threw Holly a mocking salute. To his son, he called, “Welcome, Jer, the devil take you.”

  He threw a metal sphere toward Jer. Holly screamed a counter-spell but was unable to deflect it. Kari twisted, saw it coming, and dove in front of it. It hit her full in the chest, exploding as it struck her, and she fell backward against Jer.

  Jer grabbed Kari as she fell against him, falling to his knees and lowering her to the ground. Her head lay on his leg, and she stared up at him, eyes wide. Around them the battle began anew, Holly’s coven against his father’s followers, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the shadow that was passing across Kari’s eyes.

  Kari lay in his arms, her blood covering his hands and face. “Jer,” she gasped, looking up at him.

  His father had tried to kill him, and Kari had sacrificed herself to save him.

  “Ssh, it’s all right now. Everything is going to be okay,” he lied, looking down at what was left of her chest.

  “No, it’s not,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I was wrong, and afraid. I thought you were dead. All I ever wanted was to love you, be with you.”

  “And you can, Kari, I swear. You’ll be okay,” he told her in a shaking voice. He tried to take her pain, tried to pass healing warmth through his hands, but he couldn’t. Deveraux hands could only give death.

  She whispered to him, “Je suis la belle Karienne. Mon coeur, il s’apelle Karienne. Ah, Jean … mon Jean …”

  “Oui, ma belle,” he found himself answering in French, finding love deep inside himself for her. “Vives-toi, petite.”

  The light began to fade from her eyes, and he felt himself begin to die. He had been so cruel to her, had treated her so badly. He had loved her once, or, at least, he thought he had. She had been shallow and vain, but no more so than he was. And when it had counted, she’d been there. She’d always been there, even when I had refused to see, he realized. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe, as though his heart were being squeezed in his chest. “Live,” he begged her, knowing that she could not.

  “Kill me, Jer,” she whispered. “Don’t let your father get my magic.”

  “I can’t,” he sobbed.

  “Yes, please, for me,” she whispered.

  His tears fell on her cheeks.

  She reached up and touched his scarred face. Her fingers were cold. “You are beautiful,” she said. “Like Jean.”

  He turned and kissed her hand. Then he pulled his dagger from his belt and cut her throat.

  The ghost of a smile touched her lips. Then her hand fell, her eyes rolled back, and she was gone. And nothing he could do would bring her back. He felt the power passing from her into him, strengthening him and bringing him some bleak comfort. A part of her will always be with me.

  Karienne.

  * * *

  Eli saw Jer and Holly enter the throne room, but they were the least of his worries. Eli maneuvered close to his father, who had nearly reached the throne of skulls. Only four guards stood between Michael and the leader of the Supreme Coven. Eli hazarded a glance toward Sir William and saw James at his side. With a wave of his left hand, Michael Deveraux sent three guards flying and, with his right, hurled a fireball into the chest of the fourth.

  And then Eli was standing beside his father in front of the throne. Sir William had changed to his demonic appearance, his visage a terrible thing to behold.

  “Deveraux,” he bellowed. “You will pay for this.”

  “I think not,” Michael said with an arrogant laugh.

  Eli pulled his athame from his belt. “Actually, Father, you will.”

  Michael turned to look at him, surprise on his face. At that moment, Eli plunged the athame up under Michael’s breastbone and into his heart. From the corner of his eye he saw James do the same to Sir William.

  Michael tumbled to the ground, a look of astonishment on his face. Blood began to spill from his lips. They moved as though he was trying to speak.

  Eli knelt beside him. “Why so surprised, Dad? You were the one who taught me to kill. You also taught me one other thing: ‘Do unto others before they do unto you.’” He bent and kissed his father’s brow before twisting the dagger and pulling it out.

  In a moment, the light faded from Michael Deveraux’s eyes and he was gone. A wave of power washed over Eli. It had belonged to his father, and now it belonged to him—not as his heir, but as his killer.

  Eli stood shakily as a roaring sound began to fill the room. He looked up and saw James kneeling over the body of Sir William. The corpse shook and convulsed; Sir William’s eyes bulging and then popping from their sockets. His chest expanded, contracted, then blasted outward. His skin slithered and steamed; and then, a hideous-looking demon clawed its way out of Sir William’s chest, howling. Its form was black and leathery, and as it got free, its many-jointed, skeletal limbs began to unfold like collapsed metal rods. With a series of cracks and scraping noises, it unfolded itself until its furled, lizardlike head brushed the ceiling of the great chamber.

  Its eyes were snakelike, yellowing and glowing, with a pinprick of darkness in the center. Its tongue was black and forked, and it flicked it once, twice, at James, who repelled the attack with fireballs, one of which lodged itself just beneath one of the monster’s eyes, where it continued to burn, apparently unnoticed by the creature.

  It roared, and then it flung back its head. Sir William’s human laughter cannonaded out of it, making the walls shake. Then it hopped forward on massive, taloned feet, raced across the room in three steps, and disappeared into the far wall.

  The skull throne cracked from top to bottom with the sounds of thousands of dying animals pouring from it and everyone stopped to stare.

  Eli fingered his a
thame for a moment before hurling it at James. At the same moment, James threw his weapon. Eli fell, the dagger lodged in his shoulder. He turned his head slowly and saw James lying on the ground as well, his body draped over that of his father’s ruined corpse.

  Eli turned away. Bastard . Then, slowly, everything went dark.

  Pandemonium broke out. Warlocks raced toward the fallen bodies of their leaders as Holly stood, mouth agape. She turned and glanced at Nicole. The other girl was white as a ghost, and her hand was pressed to her stomach. Then she began to totter, and Holly watched in horror as her cousin’s knees buckled and she began to fall as though in slow motion.

  Philippe threw himself forward, hitting the ground beneath Nicole and reaching up to wrap his arms around her, cushioning her fall with his body. “She’s going into labor,” he shouted.

  Holly turned and stared toward the remnants of the skull throne. Those they had come to fight were dead, the Supreme Coven was in a shambles. Time to go, to get out while we can, she thought, before they turn their attention to us.

  Too late, she realized almost instantly as several nearby warlocks launched a sudden volley of fireballs their way. She lifted her hands to spin a barrier, but before she could, a rushing wind filled the room, extinguishing the fireballs.

  “Everyone out!” Alex boomed in a voice that rolled and echoed like thunder. He stood, the center of the windstorm, his eyes flashing like lightning.

  Holly didn’t have to hear the scream that issued from Nicole to agree that it was a good idea. Philippe and Armand picked up Nicole and, carrying her, set out at a run led by Richard.

  Pablo, Tommy, and Amanda followed close on their heels. Jer stood, stock-still, a look of shock on his face as he stared toward the throne. Holly touched his shoulder. What must he be feeling about his father’s death? Joy, sorrow, both? Only he knows, she thought. “Let’s go,” she urged.

  He let her lead him out of the room and into the passage. She could hear Alex as he brought up the rear behind them.

  Getting out would prove harder than getting in, she soon realized. Demons crawled out of the walls. A strange sucking sound exploded around her, though, and the demons suddenly were trapped, pinned to the walls as though by some invisible force. She could feel a slight movement of air.