by Lola Taylor
She squinted, used a hand to shield her eyes.
“Hello, daughter.”
Her breath caught.
She knew that voice, had heard it when she was a little girl. Still occasionally heard it in fragments of memories.
She looked around—and stilled.
A lone figure stood on top of the hill, turned toward her as if waiting. Her red hair rose and fell in the breeze; the long gown of cream-colored chiffon and silk billowed around her. She stood just under the tree, but no shade dappled her pale skin.
That’s when Verika realized it. There were no shadows here. She looked down at her feet, all around where she stood. No shadow.
Huh.
“Darkness cannot exist here in any form.”
She looked up.
The woman beckoned her forward, so forward she went on trembling legs.
Her eyes stung with tears as she crested the hill, took in a face that so closely resembled her own. “Hello, Mother.”
“Call me Moira.”
“I can barely remember you.”
“Part of the spell used to seal away your powers.” She held open her arms. “Hi, baby girl.”
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she’d left when she was a kid, that Verika had resented her and loved her on and off ever since. All the burning anger and stinging betrayal melted away as she went to her mother and hugged her.
She felt solid, warm. Real.
“Is this happening?” Verika asked after a long while, pulling back. “Is it really you?”
“It is, darling.”
“Where are we?”
“Where do you think?”
“Heaven, I’m guessing.”
“Close. This is the in-between, a place between life and death where the living and the dead can meet.”
“So I’m not dead?”
“No, dearest. Not for a long while. But you must stop her.”
“Mistress Black.”
“Yes.” She lifted the amulet. “There is another reason I created this.”
Moira touched her daughter’s temple. An image popped into Verika’s mind, a set of instructions that left her tongue-tied in wonder. “I see,” Verika murmured. “Am I strong enough? Can I do that?”
“Yes, baby girl, and so much more. I always knew you were a gifted witch. And I couldn’t be more proud of you. Me and your father both.”
“My father?”
“Yes, baby. Know that we’ll always be watching over you, and that we’ll be waiting for you when it’s your turn to cross.”
Verika’s eyes burned as she realized this was good-bye. “But I want to stay with you.”
“Oh, dearheart.” Her mother took her into her arms and hugged her fiercely. “Part of me wishes you could because we miss you so much. But I also know if you stay you’d miss out on a wondrous life. We can’t take that away from you, even if it was our deepest wish.”
“Tell Dad I love him.”
“I will, baby. I promise.”
They hugged for a long time, Verika trying to memorize the scent of flowers and earth. Her mother had loved working in the garden, had hummed pretty tunes as she tilled and dug and watered in her wide-brimmed floppy hat. It was one of the few things she could remember: playing in the grass while her mother tended to her beloved flowers.
“You must go now.” Moira reluctantly pulled back.
“I don’t know the way back. I don’t even know how I got here.”
“You were able to come here because your power is linked to this realm, in a way, as Black Magic is the power of death. Not darkness,” she amended as a shadow passed over Verika’s face. “Death is a very natural part of life. There is nothing destructive or evil about it. It just is.”
“So how do I return?”
“Through here. With a leap of faith.” She took her daughter to the hillside, where a bluff rose up out of the deep blue.
“I have to jump?”
“Yes.”
“What if I drown?”
“You won’t. Trust me.”
Verika bit her lip, deliberated. Looked at her mother one last time. “All right.” She squeezed her again, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you, Momma.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. And I couldn’t be more proud of you, your father and me both.”
Verika smiled as tears ran down her face. Swiping at them, she turned, forced herself not to look back for fear she’d lose her nerve and decide to stay.
She had a mate to get back to, a battle to win.
So she jumped.
Verika slammed back into the present, no longer a wolf but a human woman. The white dress she’d worn in the other realm had come with her, the billowy skirt whipping around her thighs, her hair a wild tangle of red about her fearsome face.
The tentacles of Blood Magic continued to beat against the magical barrier Verika had thrown up, its shimmering, translucent green surface cracking under the pressure like glass. The cracks spiderwebbed across the globe surrounding her and Elijah, spreading faster and faster.
Elijah Changed back into a man, his face paler from fear leaching the color from it. Questions were written all over his face, but he knew better than to distract his mate in a time like this.
She slowly turned her head to him, the look of a warrior on her face. “Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice strong and sure.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, grasping one of her hands. “With my life.”
She nodded once and turned back to Mistress Black. “I’m taking the shield down. When I do, I want you to close your eyes.”
“What?”
“One…two…three!”
The shield shattered with nary a flick of her finger, and the barbs of Blood Magic surged forward.
Then the night exploded with white light.
Elijah gritted his teeth, throwing up his free hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glow emanating from Verika’s amulet. It blazed hot and bright as the sun, burning up the strands of Blood Magic and filling the entire clearing with white light.
The gathered crowd slinked back in fear. Mistress Black hissed and cursed as the light approached her. “What’s happening? What sort of sorcery is this?”
“Ties that bind, ties of blood, return this ancient soul of old to the place she is meant to rest.” Verika’s voice boomed in the clearing, seeming to echo off the trees, the sky.
Storm clouds raged and lightning flashed as the light strengthened, enveloping Mistress Black. “What…?” Her high-pitched shriek was all that could be heard as she threw her head back, her spine bowing as her soul was literally pulled out of her. The human host she’d occupied collapsed first to her knees and then pitched face-first into the dirt as the light receded, dragging the screaming, clawing soul along with it.
Mistress Black’s soul, a gray ghost of her human shell, cast spells and curses alike, trying to break free as the light dragged her backward across the ground. Faster and faster it went, until she was sucked up in the crystal. Then the light winked out entirely, enveloping the lawn in darkness once more.
The tempest broke, the storm clouds dissipating as quickly as they’d come. The gale steadied and stopped, and all that was left was heavy silence.
Verika felt the weight of two hundred pairs of eyes on her, but all she could do was stare at the crystal in her hand. It no longer sparkled with magic. Its faceted surface was dull as a rock, leaving no hint as to the immense power locked within.
Darkness spawned by exhaustion—physical, mental, and magical—danced along her vision, but she fought it. She had to be sure.
She glanced up, where Mistress Black’s host lay unconscious upon the ground, and then back again at the crystal. A half laugh, half sob bubbled up, and her knees shook. “It’s over. It is done.”
“Verika?”
She looked up at Elijah, smiling and crying, her whole body shaking with the flood of emotions rolling through her. “We won. We won, Elijah.”
The battle was over and done after that. The enemy forces that remained quickly surrendered, their leader gone, the spell to resurrect Mistress Black thwarted.
Verika hadn’t gone under long. Fifteen minutes, tops, though she’d wanted to sleep far longer. It was as if a part of her knew she was still needed by her friends, and thus wouldn’t allow her to rest just yet.
She lay on the field, under the open sky. Elijah had knelt beside her the entire time, stroking her hair, pressing kisses to her damp forehead. Someone had given him a jacket, pants. His feet remained bare and caked in blood and dirt.
He explained everything to her when she awoke, after ensuring she had water and was treated by a Blue Warlock for injuries, magical and physical.
“She’s exhausted her magical well, as it were.” The warlock stood. “But she’ll be fine in a few days, with plenty of rest. And she’s not to use her magic, not even for little things. You hear?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”
After the doctor left to tend to the injured, Elijah sat by Verika, waiting for an explanation.
She sat up slowly, massaged her temples as she gathered her thoughts. It felt as if someone had put her brain through a meat grinder and had stomped and pressed on every bone and muscle in her body. “I’m sorry for frightening you.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Verika’s hands shook in her lap as she recalled what happened, and she stared at the pendant in wonder, not touching it, not quite. “I heard her, Elijah.”
“Who, baby?”
“My mother. She spoke to me, inside here.” A hand pressed to her heart. “And here.” The same hand reached up to touch her head. “She told me what the true purpose of the crystal was, of the vision she’d had before creating it. My mother was prophetic. She knew of a great evil that would overshadow the world—unless I stopped it. Unless we stopped it together.” She squeezed his hand.
“I thought I’d lost you. It seemed like I did for a moment. I…I couldn’t feel you inside our bond.”
“I believe I crossed over to the other side briefly, at least, in astral form. Similar to dream walking, only my powers of death allowed me to cross over to the plane of the dead.”
“You died?”
“No, no, don’t freak out. My astral form, my soul if you will, simply left my body for a short while because my mother called to me through the power of the crystal.”
“Your soul ‘simply left your body,’ my ass.” He barked a laugh. “You say it so casually, as if it were nothing. And you expect me not to freak out?”
“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in. It’s a lot for me too. I didn’t know Black Witches had this ability. I mean, I’d read about it, in old stories. Black Witches and Warlocks tend to stay out of the media due to the stigma tied to our magic, so not much is known about the extent of our powers.”
“You should write a book.”
She smiled. “Yes, maybe.”
“So you were able to rip Mistress Black’s soul out of that poor witch”—he shuddered—“and bind her soul inside that crystal?” He pointed doubtfully to it.
“Yes. It’s a soul gem. It must have cost my mother a great deal to create it.” She ran her thumb over the smooth surface thoughtfully. “Blood calls to blood…”
“What?”
“It’s why I was able to trap her. We share the same blood.”
“So you used Blood Magic?”
“No, not literally. A form of ancient magic rooted in blood ties. A purer branch of Blood Magic, before it was corrupted by years of witches bastardizing it for their personal gain.”
Elijah shook his head in wonder. “There’s clearly a lot I don’t understand about magic.”
“You did all right out there, by the way. Given all the magic that was flying around.”
“For you, I have to be brave. I want to be.” He took her hand. She flipped his hand palm-up, skidded her fingertips over his rough palm.
“I…I don’t think I would have been able to come back to this world if your presence hadn’t been in my mind to ground me. You saved me.”
“We saved each other.” He kissed her tenderly.
She leaned into him, closed her eyes, and relished his strength, the surety of his belief in her, in them. “Where are the others? Is everyone else all right?”
He pressed his lips together. “There were casualties. A lot of blood was spilled tonight. Even more were injured.”
“I should help in any way I can.” She started to rise, but Elijah pressed her back down.
“You good to move? Maybe you should take it—”
“Don’t you dare tell me to take it easy, Elijah Marshal Johnson. I’m a grown woman, and I can handle a little pain. This war started partly because of me. I need to see it through to the very end.”
He couldn’t argue with her, knew doing so would only anger her more. She’d just do whatever she damn well pleased, anyway. So he helped her up, made sure to support her weight as he led her out to the bloodied field.
“How were you able to turn back, to a human that is, before dawn?” he asked. “Most wolves can’t during their first Change.”
“I don’t know. I suppose the crystal did that when I came back from the other world. My human body was needed, not the wolf’s.”
They paused by a fire, where a figure burned at its heart. Verika’s eyes skimmed over a proud nose, hair the color of flame.
Mistress Black’s real body, she realized. Wise, she thought. Burn the vessel so there would never be a chance for the soul to return. That is, if it ever escaped. Which she suspected, if her mother had anything to do with it, would never happen.
Still, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for Mistress Black’s soul. She had been good at one time, Verika was sure. But she’d let hardship, oppression, and suffering eat away at that goodness until there was only bitterness and hatred. And it had destroyed her.
“What are you doing?” Elijah murmured.
“Nothing.” Verika gazed pensively at the fire. “Just thinking.”
Did she regret having to kill her? No. She had still done so many wicked things. The atrocities she’d done to her mate she would never forgive. For those evils alone, Mistress Black deserved her fate.
Karma always wins, she thought, as Satine had believed. She wasn’t sure where she stood on that until now. That everything you reap comes back to you eventually in some form or another. Now, she thought her eccentric teacher might have been right.
Unable to stand the stench of burning flesh, they walked away, toward the huge, dark house. Gage stood nearby, Danica safe at his side and seemingly without a scratch save for a bruise on her forehead. Gage spoke with a vampire, who nodded and strode off as Elijah and Verika approached.
“There’s the hero of the hour.” Danica walked up to her and kissed both cheeks. “We owe you our lives, all of us.”
Verika blushed, not used to the praise. Danica was the first person to say thank-you. Verika had noticed, upon walking through the field, that people for the most part stayed clear of her. Some gazed in awe, others in fear. She shouldered their stares with practiced ease, wondering whether maybe this was her fate for the rest of her life. She may be a hero, maybe was a savior even, but the Underworld still had a long way to go before the stigma associated with Black Magic was lifted. It had been taught to fear it for so long that it would take a hundred acts of goodness to lift the shroud of hatred over the dark house of magic.
Gage hugged Verika next, thanking her in kind, and then hugged his brother. “How’s the baby?” Verika asked, looking with concern at Danica’s stomach.
“Fine.” Danica rubbed a hand over her slight bump. “I knew the Change wouldn’t hurt it, as the child is a purebred werewolf, and Gage pulled me out of the battle before I could see much action.”
Ver
ika bit her lip. It probably wasn’t her place to ask, but she was curious. “Why did you do it? Why join the fight at all in your…?” Her eyes ran over Danica’s belly once more.
Danica flushed. Her hands balled into fists. “I was scared—terrified, even—for my baby. But while I may soon be a mother, right now I’m a queen of wolves. And a queen protects her pack, her citizens, at all costs.”
Gage rested a hand on her back, gazing at her with understanding and adoration. “Spoken like a true queen.” He kissed her forehead, and she winced.
“So what’s the bruise from?” Elijah pointed.
Danica rolled her eyes. “Me being clumsy after Changing back into a human. I tripped and banged my head on a rock. How lame is that?”
Verika bit back a laugh. “You should make up some grand battle story as to how you got it.”
“Right?”
Their banter was quiet, the humor in it subdued by the heavy atmosphere of death all around them. Too many lives had been needlessly lost tonight to warrant much cheer.
Some more talk was exchanged, about numbers lost, about what happened next. The DPI had been called and were on their way to apprehend those in association with the Order of the Sun, and the leaders of every race in the Underworld were on their way as well.
“In other words”—Elijah looked around—“this place is about to turn into a circus.”
“We should leave,” Verika said. “We’re still some of the Underworld’s most wanted to the DPI.”
“She’s right.” Gage grimaced. “I have some legal details to work out before the warrants out for your arrest are lifted. You should leave before they get here, lay low until I send for you.”
Elijah gazed thoughtfully at the house, his eyes full of pain, hate. Regret. “There’s one more thing…” he murmured, looking at Gage. “The house clear?”
“Yes. We’ve searched every room, released any prisoners she’d been holding.”
Verika shivered as images of the dungeon flashed through her head. She could only imagine what it was like being held captive by that madwoman.