Retribution asc-5

by Jeanne C. Stein

CHAPTER 48

  THUNDER IS IN THE ROOM WITH US. MORE THAN sound. It takes shape, reverberates off the walls, beats at our ears, shakes the ground. Hell rides with it, the face of the witch hovering, waiting to draw us down into the darkness. I’m so afraid, my teeth grind together, my flesh puckers and draws tight. My hands rise in an instinctive reflex to shield my face. The spell that bound me to the spot must be broken, but it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t run if I wanted to. It’s all I can do to keep my balance on a floor rearing and rolling beneath my feet.

  Frey’s chair skitters against the wall. He’s flung out of it. The chair breaks apart as if made of balsa wood.

  Frey doesn’t awaken.

  He’s lucky.

  I glance at Williams. He’s been pushed against a table at the back of the room. I can’t tell if he’s broken free. His thoughts are no longer on his hatred, they center now on his fear. His eyes are on Burke.

  She reaches out a skeletal hand to touch Sophie. “Sister.”

  One word.

  But Sophie doesn’t waiver. Her voice rises like the perfume of incense—thick, pervasive, somehow comforting. Her hand is again on Culebra’s chest. Shielding him. She is not looking at Burke; her eyes are closed.

  Burke shrieks and holds out both arms. She scoops them as if to draw Sophie up.

  I can’t let that happen. I look to Williams for help.

  His eyes meet mine, but he refuses to move. He won’t help. These are your friends, his expression says, not mine.

  I move toward Sophie alone.

  Burke turns burning eyes on me, full of fire and rage. She snarls and her right hand becomes a sword. The force of her fury is directed at me. She lashes out with the sword, breathes smoke and flame, blinding me.

  I shield my face with my hands, feel the tip of the sword slash both forearms. Pain runs the length of my arms. The charm blazes inside my blouse, the smell of burnt flesh, my own, fills my nostrils. The floor beneath me is buckling, caving downward.

  Still, Sophie’s voice is there. She does not stop.

  But something changes.

  In the instant that Burke turns her attention to me, the timbre of Sophie ’s voice swells, grows more powerful. She raises her eyes and arms, and in her hands she holds the goblet. She holds it like a supplication, an offering. She draws her own power inward, summoning the force of the elements whipping around us.

  Burke senses the shift. She turns her face away from me, howling.

  The thunder no longer answers.

  In its place, deathly quiet.

  Burke realizes her mistake. I was a decoy.

  Sophie’s voice drops to a whisper. The goblet trembles in her hand.

  Burke blinks, opens her mouth. “No.”

  Her face contorts. Her body shrinks into itself. She holds up her hands. “Don’t.”

  But Sophie raises the goblet higher.

  Burke releases a sigh, a death rattle. An acknowledgment.

  She has been tricked. She turns dead eyes on me.

  Then she is drawn into the goblet.

  Sophie holds it against her chest, shielding it.

  It’s then I know.

  Sophie’s eyes find mine. The message she sends is both admission and appeal.

  I can’t let it go. Too much has happened. Too many deaths.

  I reach for the goblet.

  She could fight me. She could render me immobile with a thought.

  Her breath catches. Her eyes fill. Still, she refuses to move. Gently, softly, I place my fingers over hers. One by one, I remove them from the goblet until her hand falls away.

  The goblet falls to the floor.

  With a burst of light, it shatters, sending particles as fine as sand through the air.

  The only sound now is the ghostly echo of Burke’s scream.

  CHAPTER 49

  THE SILENCE IS MORE DEAFENING THAN THE thunder.

  The candles sputter and extinguish as one.

  The charm grows instantly cold.

  When I look around, I see for the first time that not only Frey’s chair but every bit of furniture in the room has been reduced to shards of broken wood. It’s a wonder Williams and I weren’t staked by flying debris.

  Suddenly, Culebra sits up on the cot. He looks around, his eyes full of questions.

  Then he frowns and looks at me.

  “What in the hell have you done to my bar?”

  CHAPTER 50

  IT TAKES A MOMENT TO REGISTER—CULEBRA SITTING up, speaking.

  I don’t pay attention to what he said. I’m at his side in two seconds, searching his face for reassurance that he’s all right and back with us.

  He returns my stare with a bewildered frown. “What’s going on?”

  I touch his cheek. It’s warm, color flooding up from his neck at whatever emotion he reads on my face.

  “Do you remember?”

  A flash in the depths of his eyes. It comes flooding back—a shared memory. The helplessness, the spell, dangling on the edge of death.

  He remembers.

  A sound from the corner.

  Frey.

  I’d almost forgotten Frey.

  I turn around.

  In the pile of rubble that was a chair, Frey struggles to his feet. When he straightens, a rush of relief loosens another knot in my stomach.

  His hair and face are morphing back to normal. The white streaks fade, the deep claw marks fill in. He’s shaking his head as if to clear it, but I can tell by the way he’s moving that he hasn’t suffered any permanent physical damage. He meets my eyes and smiles, and I know he’s going to be fine.

  Two down.

  Williams hasn’t moved from his place against the back wall. He’s watching me, too, trying to figure out if I know the truth—that we were paralyzed by our own fear. It isn’t until this moment that I understand Burke’s power drew strength from that fear. She cast the spell, but it was our own weakness that forged the chains that bound us. It makes me ashamed. If I had stopped Burke in the restaurant, many lives would have been saved.

  I turn away from him. I have my own guilt to deal with. Let him come to the realization on his own.

  Now there’s only Sophie.

  She’s slumped on the floor at the foot of Culebra’s cot. Her face is drained of color, of emotion, a blank slate from which two dark eyes stare dully at nothing. She looks so young, so fragile. It would be easy to forget that there is a powerful witch concealed in that childlike body.

  A witch who just allowed her sister to what—?

  I realize that I don’t know what happened to Burke. And I need to.

  I kneel down beside her.

  She raises her eyes to meet mine. Immense sorrow and deep regret are reflected there.

  “Where is she?” I ask.

  “Gone.”

  “What does that mean?”

  For Christ’s sake, Deveraux snarls. Leave her alone, will you?

  I ignore him. Take one of Sophie’s hands in both of my own. It’s cold, colder than mine, and it raises gooseflesh on my arms. “Is she dead?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Yes. “I want to know my friends are safe.”

  “They are.”

  “Then she’s dead?”

  This time, I see the shift in Sophie’s eyes. Resolve replaces the dull ache of loss. “She can’t hurt anyone.”

  It’s not the answer I wanted to hear. “She’s still alive.”

  That gets a reaction from Williams. Moving faster than I can stop him, he yanks Sophie to her feet. He looses the vampire with a snarl.

  “Where is she?”

  This time I recover quickly enough to meet his beast with my own before he can do any real harm. With one hand, I grab the back of his neck and fling him away. Don’t touch her.

  He hits the wall, stumbles, loses his footing. He’s back on his feet in an instant, hands twisted like claws, snarling. But when he looks at me, instead of attacking, he stops. For the first time since I’v
e known him, Williams hesitates. He isn’t flouting his contempt or screaming at me. His fists open, his body loses its rigidity, his vampire face disappears. He meets my eyes, a terrible calmness replacing the fury. The words he hurls at me are filled with hate. “The witch lives. You can’t protect them. Both will pay.”

  Before I can respond, he turns and leaves through the door that leads to the bar.

  A different chill crawls down my back. Williams’ threat hangs in the air. It isn’t finished.

  I make sure the beast is contained before turning back to Sophie. She shrinks back from me anyway. “I’m sorry if he hurt you.” I keep my voice low. “We both have concerns about Burke. We need to know what happened.”

  She peers into my face. I don’t know what she sees. I don’t know what she’s looking for. I appeal to Deveraux. What’s wrong?

  He hesitates a heartbeat before answering. I told her who you are, he says .

  I don’t know what that means.

  She recognizes you now. She knows what you are. The chosen. The one.

  I’m too shocked to do more than gape at her. What did she recognize? What did I do?

  Deveraux is chuckling. You beat down that old-soul vampire like a dog. You met Burke head-on. You hide your power well. I wouldn’t have suspected it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. You don’t seem the type, really. Too—ordinary, I guess.

  I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult. It’s too ridiculous. I put steel in my voice. Listen, in a minute Culebra is going to start asking questions. He’s the one Burke almost killed. You’re going to have to get Sophie to talk to us. He’s going to be as pissed as Williams.

  He’s already as pissed as Williams.

  Culebra’s voice at my elbow makes me jump. I’d forgotten he could get into my head as easily as Williams. Since Williams didn’t seem to be able to hear Deveraux, I assumed Culebra wouldn’t hear him, either.

  I was wrong.

  Culebra stands beside me, eyeing Sophie. What’s going on? I thought she was a witch.

  You want to tell him, I ask Deveraux, or should I?

  CHAPTER 51

  “I’LL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS.” SOPHIE FINALLY inserts herself into the conversation. Color is returning to her face.

  Culebra extends a hand and helps her to her feet. I’m amazed at how quickly he’s recovered. For someone who’s been in a magic-induced coma for the last three days, he’s showing remarkably few ill effects.

  He puts a hand on the small of Sophie’s back and steers her gently toward the door. “Let’s go to the bar,” he says. “I could use some food.”

  Frey and I follow. I shut the door behind us, casting one last look at the debris. I hope the rest of the bar fared better than this.

  Sandra looks up when we appear in the doorway. She rushes to Culebra and Frey and hugs first one, then the other. I suspect her relief is as much the hope that she can go home now as it is her happiness to see them back among the living.

  But looking around the bar, at the dozen or so assorted vamps and human hosts sharing drinks and either making or concluding their dining arrangements, it strikes me that no one here has a clue about what went on in that back room. We’re just four more customers and the glances our way reflect only curiosity. There isn’t anything to indicate we were just involved in a fight that might have killed us all. Even the blood that stained the clothing of Sophie and Culebra is gone. Dissipated by the magic of a broken spell.

  There’s no sign of Williams, either. Did he leave through the back door? Is he already on his way to San Diego?

  Culebra stops at the bar, murmurs something to the human barkeep and ushers us to a table. When we’re all seated, he leans forward, hands flat on the table. His eyes shine with something that looks a lot like tears, the gruff-ness I’m used to gone completely. He looks from one of us to the other.

  “I owe you my life.”

  Even his voice is different, softer, more vulnerable. Has the nightmare left a mark?

  He continues, “You risked everything to save me. I won’t forget it. I’m in your debt. I give you my oath. We are family. No favor you ask will ever be denied.”

  Uneasy silence follows his declaration. Not caused by the gratitude evident in Culebra’s words, but by the feeling we’re now inexorably bound together. I don’t know if it’s what Culebra intended, but it’s what I see on the faces of Frey, Sophie and Sandra.

  It’s Sandra who breaks the tension. “Well, then. I have the first favor.”

  We all look at her.

  “I want to go home.”

  It’s exactly the right thing to say. The bubble of anxiety bursts with an almost audible pop.

  Culebra laughs. “You can go whenever you like.”

  The barkeep approaches the table. In his hands he has a tray filled with shredded beef, chicken, marinated vegetables, beans, a plate piled with steaming tortillas. He plunks the dishes down along with half a dozen bottles of Dos Equis.

  “I hope you will eat first,” Culebra says. He casts an eye my way. “Sorry, I have nothing to offer you, Anna. Unless you see something at one of the tables—”

  I shake my head, but reach for one of the beers. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  I hide my impatience as Culebra, Frey and Sandra dig into the food. Only Sophie holds back.

  Because of Deveraux?

  He picks the question out of my head. No. It’s one of the things I like best about taking up residence in a human body. I can enjoy food again. No bloodlust.

  Then why isn’t Sophie eating?

  She looks over at me. “I’m not hungry. Maybe we can take a walk.”

  Culebra sends a thought, cloaked, so that only I hear it. There are still questions. This may be your chance to get answers.

  He’s busy eating, but his eyes are veiled and serious when they meet mine.

  I push back the chair and stand. “Good idea, Sophie. I can use some air.”

  I hadn’t realized night had fallen until we step out onto the boardwalk. A light breeze carries the pungent sharpness of mesquite and the subtle sweetness of night-blooming cactus. A crescent moon and a diamond-studded sky present a peaceful contrast to the hellish storm that threatened us inside just minutes before.

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” Sophie asks.

  I’m not sure what she’s referring to, the still desert night or the tempest conjured up by Burke, but I nod anyway.

  Her face is tilted up toward the sky. “I never see stars like this in Denver. The desert is so beautiful. A person can hear herself think.”

  I smile at the irony in that expression. “You always hear yourself think, don’t you? Literally, I mean.”

  She chuckles. “You mean I always hear Deveraux think. It’s hardly the same thing.”

  “Where is he? Right now, I mean.”

  She puts a hand to her chest. “He’s here. He knows you and I have things to discuss. He won’t interfere.”

  “Isn’t it odd? Having another consciousness, a separate being as part of you?”

  The look she throws me is half amused, half surprised that I’d ask the question. “No different than you living with the dual sides of your nature. You are in constant battle against the beast, are you not? In any case, Deveraux and I aren’t so dissimilar as you might suspect. In fact, I imagine it’s easier for me than it is for you. His beast is contained. All that ’s left are his thoughts.” She laughs again. “Disturbing as they sometimes are.”

  Her simple, bittersweet awareness amazes me. How much of it is the witch and how much the vampire?

  We walk on in silence for a few moments, enjoying the quiet and the calm. But I know I have to broach the subject at some point, it may as well be now.

  “Where is she, Sophie?”

  There’s no faltering in Sophie’s step or hesitation in her answer. “She’s no longer a threat.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.” It comes out sharper than I intend.

  Sophie d
raws a deep breath. “When I broke her spell, the evil behind the magic had to go somewhere. I captured it in the goblet.”

  I remember the moment before the goblet shattered. Burke was drawn into it, too. “So the evil—?”

  “Was directed back into her.”

  “Could she have survived?”

  “What we saw inside was a reverse image of my sister. Not her physical being. She lives but the damage done to her physically, psychically and mentally will take a long time to heal. Years. Decades, maybe.”

  I watch her. Sorrow and guilt are in clear conflict with the simple truth: Burke’s actions sealed her fate.

  It’s not enough. My gut aches with my own truth, there’s no comfort in Sophie saying Burke is no longer a threat. The bottom line is that as long as she is alive, she is a threat. I want her dead. “Do you know where she is?” I ask quietly.

  “No.” She stops and turns to face me. “That is the truth. She may be on this earthly plane, she may be on another. She’s gone away to heal. I can’t reach her. I won’t try. I promise you, she is no longer a threat. It’s all I have to offer.”

  But I think of Williams and Ortiz and those girls tortured in that warehouse. “She has much to answer for. I’m not sure I can let it go.”

  Sophie’s voice is just as determined. “You may not have a choice.”

  We continue walking along the boardwalk. The wind has picked up a little, dust whirls at our feet, clouds skitter across the sky. The silence stretches between us.

  At last Sophie says, “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Burke hurt—”

  “No. I don’t mean about Burke. What are you going to do about you. Deveraux called you the chosen one. You seemed distressed by the idea.”

  Distressed doesn’t begin to cover it. When I don’t answer, Sophie turns to look at me. “We can’t fight our destiny, Anna. We shouldn’t try.”

  She’s smiling softly, I see it in the darkness. It strikes me that if Williams had said that to me —shit, he has a million times—my back would be up, my defenses at the ready. Sophie, however, brings forth a startling burst of clarity.

  “I’m afraid.”