by Nancy Holder
“English Rose is as good a name as any. And you, professor?”
“Since I can only call you by your screen name, how about I give you mine. I’m generally known as Dr. Frankenstein.”
He could hear her suck in her breath. “I think I understand you, Doctor. What you want, however, will be tricky.”
“I don’t care how it is done. All that I care about is retrieving the body quickly. I can pay you well for your time and your services.”
“In that case, I think we can work something out. Although I’m more interested in information than in money.”
He had gotten her attention, that was for sure. Although the cat he had found had been clearly resurrected by magic, he had been fairly sure that most witches didn’t possess such knowledge of resurrection.
And now he was certain of it.
Outside Cologne, Germany:
Holly, Pablo, Armand, Alex, and the Temple of the Air
Holly thought that she must not have a heart anymore, because if she did, it would have broken long ago. She had walked away from everyone she cared about: Amanda, Nicole, Uncle Richard, Jer, and Owen, Nicole’s baby. Well, Jer had walked away from all of them, leaving without a word. Nicole had been giving birth to Owen, and Holly had been forced to choose her destiny.
Her cousin Alex Carruthers had invited her to join forces with him to rout out more strongholds of the Supreme Coven, bitter enemies of both the Mother Coven and Holly’s people as well. The Mother Coven, made up of female and male witches who worshipped the Goddess, had tried to force Holly to claim allegiance. After she had reluctantly acquiesced, the Mother Coven had twice failed to protect Holly’s coven against attacks from their bitterest enemies, the Deveraux.
Because of that, Holly had chosen to go with Alex. Amanda, Tommy, Richard, and Nicole all wanted peace. And they deserved it. They had done their bit for Coventry, as it were.
Philippe, the French male witch aligned with the Goddess, would have been willing to continue the fight, except that he was in thrall to Nicole, and so his first loyalty lay with her…and with the child, who might or might not be his. Nicole had been with him, Eli Deveraux, and her now-dead husband, James Moore. James had betrayed his father, Sir William Moore, leader of the Supreme Coven in London.
James had thought he’d killed his father, but at the last instant, a hideous demon had pushed out of Sir William’s corpse like a huge cobra. The memory chilled Holly’s blood, and made her wish that she, too, had stayed behind with Nicole and Amanda. Together, her twin cousins and she were the three Ladies of the Lily, said to be very powerful. Of the three, she possessed the most magical power…purchased at terrible prices. Parts of her soul were dark now, as dark as that of any Deveraux or Moore.
Of those who had fought beside her, only Pablo and Armand accompanied her on her new journey, with Alex. Her long-lost cousin was fair-haired and blue-eyed, such a contrast to Jer Deveraux. And in more ways than one: Alex loved Holly. It was obvious in every smile, every look, in how he checked to make sure she was all right after they attacked enclaves and strongholds of warlocks dedicated to the Supreme Coven. How he conjured wine and good food for her, and made pillows and a mattress out of thin air for her, expending valuable magical energy that he might need in their next foray against the enemy.
And speaking of energy…
I need a vacation, Holly thought grimly as they trudged along under cover of darkness somewhere in the German countryside. Holly Cathers, you just defeated your archnemesis, the man who killed your parents and made your life a living hell. What are you going to do?
Apparently she was going to start the whole process all over again.
She should have chosen to go to Disneyland in stead. As the group began to move even more slowly and silently, she wondered if it was too late to change her mind.
There were sixteen of them in total. Besides Holly, Pablo, and Armand, Alex traveled with a dozen members of his coven, which he called The Temple of the Air. It was a good name. Air was definitely Alex’s element, and he could control it in ways that were astonishing.
I wonder what my element is, Holly thought. Her introduction to her witchblood and the legacy that came with it had been a bloodbath, literally. She had never had a chance to explore all the subtleties and niceties of the craft. She had unbelievable power but no idea what she was doing most of the time.
It’s probably water, she thought grimly. It would be ironic and morbid. After all, those who loved Cathers witches were doomed to die by drowning. That was how her parents had died, on a rafting trip. That’s what happened to Nicole’s cat, Hecate. That’s how I killed her.
Nicole. I wonder how she is. Fire would definitely have to be her cousin Nicole’s element. She was always the drama queen, so wild, so passionate. Nicole’s twin sister, Amanda, with her practicality and thoughtfulness, was definitely like the earth, a nurturer through and through.
The group came to a halt so suddenly that Holly bumped into Armand hard enough to make them both stumble. The moon slid out from behind the low-hanging clouds, and for a moment she could see the others clearly. Alex was deep in conversation with one of his men, a witch named Stanislaus, who had just returned from scouting ahead.
Rumor had it that there was an outpost of the Supreme Coven nearby, one renowned for dark magic and evil purposes. Although Alex had once lectured Jer that there was no need for covens, or even families, to fight, it wasn’t entirely true. Evil was evil, and Alex insisted that it had to be dealt with to make the world a safer place for all of them.
Except I am evil, Holly thought. It was the brooding fear that she always tried to push out of her mind. Sometimes at night she dreamed that the reason Jer didn’t want to be with her wasn’t because of his terrible scars or his own black heart, but because of hers.
You’re not evil, Pablo said, popping quietly into her head.
Thanks, she said, too tired to yell at him for reading her mind. It was the young boy’s special talent, one they had put to good use while spying on the enemy. But she found it disconcerting that he knew her secret thoughts.
Alex finished consulting with Stanislaus and turned toward her, his face eager and his eyes alight. “We’ve got ’em,” he announced.
“Oh, goody,” Holly said, under her breath.
Pablo looked at her sharply, but Alex had missed her sarcasm.
“We’re going to take them now,” Alex continued, looking keen and fresh. His blond hair glowed in the moonlight, and his blue eyes gleamed. He grinned at her. “You ready?”
“Now?” Holly asked, stunned. “Shouldn’t we plan or prepare or hold circle or something first?”
“No time,” Alex said impatiently. “We have the advantage of surprise. If we don’t strike now, we risk losing that.”
Armand and Pablo looked as uneasy as she felt. She was sure that Alex had never seemed more confident, though. Reluctantly she nodded agreement. All she really wanted was to find a nice soft bed to crawl into. If he thought that they should go in, that was what they’d do. After all, she’d had less warning than this before a fight.
Holly cast a spell that muffled their movements as they continued on their way, walking closely together. In a valley below, a large black-and-white structure with a shingled silo dominated a crisscross maze of animal pens. Holly blinked in surprise. A barn?
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked Alex.
“Not all branches of the Supreme Coven have the audacity of the London one,” he said. “Some prefer to remain much more anonymous.”
Holly shook her head as she stared at the wooden structure. Pablo and Armand gazed impassively at her, and she couldn’t begin to guess what they were thinking.
An owl hooted as Stanislaus led them around the west side of the barn, away from the main doors. Inside, horses chuffed and stamped in their stalls. Did the animals sense that death was about to rain down upon their owners?
Rickety doors in the ground looked like
the entrance to a root cellar of some sort. Several of Alex’s covenates were already at work, silently punching holes in the wards that she could see shimmering in the air. Their presence helped calm her nerves and focus her mind. Suddenly the serene barn was instead a fortress of evil giving lodging to her enemies.
The enemies of my House, and my friends, she thought. I shall give them no mercy. None.
As the wards came free, she realized that she was beginning to sound more and more like her ancestress Isabeau. The only daughter of a bloodthirsty, merciless witch, Isabeau had been trained from birth to be hard and unforgiving.
Maeve and Janet, two of Alex’s female covenates, threw open the doors. Alex hurled himself down a flight of stone stairs dripping with broken wards. Holly lunged after him, and the blood began to sing in her veins. She could hear shouts below her, and she conjured fireballs in each hand.
The first warlock came into view, a tall, thin man wearing black pajamas.
“Verdammt!” he bellowed, lunging toward Alex.
Slightly above Alex on the stairs, Holly threw one of her fireballs into his face. The man screamed, collapsing and rolling to the bottom of the stairs. He blazed, and she did nothing to help him.
Maeve, Janet, and Stanislaus clattered around Holly and down the stairs. Alex leaped over the burning man, then turned and held a hand out to Holly. She sailed over the warlock, who had stopped struggling.
“To the right!” Pablo shouted.
Holly and Alex turned to the right and found themselves inside a large cavernous space. At least two dozen warlocks were rushing toward them. Some cast wards; one came at her with a sword; others pulled out revolvers and submachine guns.
Holly laughed as she knocked her adversary’s sword aside with a wave of her hand. A moment later the room rocked with explosions, and then walls of flame. The smoke made her cough and choke, until Alex conjured a shield around them, a bubble. He grinned at her, and she threw back her head in wanton pleasure.
And then it was over. The fire died, revealing the carnage. Holly looked down at the scorched bodies of her enemies, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. That had been far too easy.
It was barely midnight when they locked the cellar, replaced the wards around it, and melted into the night. It had happened so quickly it was almost as if Holly had dreamed the whole thing.
“There’s a great hotel in Cologne,” Alex said. “I’ve stayed in it before. It’s just a short walk.”
Great, more walking. Holly was really starting to wish for a magic broom. In her mind she remembered past fights, when she had conjured spectral warhorses to ride into battle.
A spectral warhorse would mean she wouldn’t have to walk anymore. She sighed. It would also take more concentration and strength than she was capable of. The adrenaline from the short skirmish had drained out of her the moment it was over. So she put her head down and kept walking, forcing one foot in front of the other. And when she looked up again, they were in the city.
Even her exhausted brain couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of historic marble buildings juxtaposed with soaring skyscrapers of neon and glass. Cologne sparkled with bustle and lights.
On their left they passed an ancient Gothic cathedral of ornate double spires, stained-glass windows, and elaborate friezes of saints. Holly paused, moved by its beauty. She had never seen anything like it in her life.
I wish witches had structures like that, she thought. Beautiful places where we could gather to worship, and the tourists could take pictures and brag about having been there.
“This is Cologne Cathedral,” Alex told her in hushed tones. “The bodies of the Three Wise Men are said to rest inside it.” He took her hand. She let him.
“Do you believe that there were three wise men?” she asked.
“Most men are fools,” he replied, smiling faintly. “They throw away their power…and their chances for happiness.”
He’s talking about Jer, she thought with a flip of her stomach.
Suddenly Pablo made a choking sound. He staggered and then fell, crashing to his knees. She let go of Alex’s hand and dropped down next to Pablo.
“Pablo!” she shouted, grabbing his arm. His eyes had rolled backward in his head, and only the whites showed.
“Phil—ippe,” he gasped, then collapsed onto the street.
London: Rose
Rose was thrilled with the contact from Dr. Frankenstein. She still didn’t know his real name, but she could find out easily enough. It didn’t bring her any closer to finding Sasha, but if she could learn what he knew about reanimating the dead, it would be well worth her time and efforts.
Luna, the high priestess of the Mother Coven, had personally asked Rose to search for Sasha. Rose’s special talent was finding people, especially those she had met before. Yet, despite all her skill, she had been unable to find the woman who had once been Michael Deveraux’s wife, before she had escaped him and lost herself in the Mother Coven.
The last time Rose had seen Sasha, the woman had been a member of Holly’s coven. Luna herself had sent them to Rose. Rose’s home served as a Mother Coven safe house, and when she had sheltered the Cathers Coven, Kari Hardwicke had also been with them. She remembered the younger woman as being flighty and frightened—not of witchblood, and not really even a borrower of magical power. Just…angry, and anxious to get out of the terrible war she’d stumbled into.
The Mother Coven would not approve of Rose’s bargain with Dr. Frankenstein, so she would have to be careful in deciding who among her witchly friends she could trust. The Mother Coven frowned on ambition. They saw it as a warlock trait. In the coven every witch had their role, their place, which they were carefully prepared for. Unlike the members of the Supreme Coven, they were strongly encouraged to pick a specialty and not to learn much outside their roles. As a result, only a very few in the Mother Coven had a broad base of power, or the knowledge or skill to challenge Luna, their high priestess.
Rose had no desire to challenge the high priestess, but she was tired of feeling as if she lived in a cage. She was a safe house keeper, a person locater, nothing more. If she could learn Dr. Frankenstein’s secrets, though…She pushed the thought from her mind. One step at a time. She still had to figure out how to retrieve Kari’s body.
It took two days to gather the witches she needed and another day to make sure that they could sufficiently break the wards around the former Supreme Coven headquarters to get inside. They went at night and dressed in dark clothing.
What they found inside was a nightmare. Bodies of humans and demons were lying broken and lifeless in crumpled piles, limbs askew as though flung by giant hands. The stench was unbearable, and Rose struggled not to vomit.
“By the Goddess,” Sarah, a young witch, breathed in horror.
“I didn’t know there were so many women warlocks in the Supreme Coven,” a male witch, Kyle, muttered as he flipped over yet another body and Rose shook her head.
“Neither did I,” Rose said grimly. Finding Kari was turning out to be a lot harder than she had anticipated.
Finally, an hour later, Rose gazed down on a familiar form. It took a moment for Rose to be sure it was her. Bodies often looked very different when the spark of life was gone. Additionally, someone had slit this woman’s throat, and her face was covered in blood.
“It’s her,” Rose said, at last.
Sarah wove a spell of invisibility around the body before Kyle stooped to pick her up.
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board,” he joked.
Sarah wrinkled her nose, and Rose shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” Rose ordered them tersely.
“I feel tainted,” Sarah said with a shiver as they started back to the entrance, picking their way around bodies. “To think that I’ve stood on Supreme Coven soil…”
“It is very disturbing,” Kyle added, serious for a moment.
Once outside they all breathed easier. A few minutes later they reached
their destination without mishap. The Supreme Coven had clearly abandoned London. That should be cause for rejoicing.
When they were safely inside Rose’s home, they laid Kari out on the living room floor. Her face was mottled and gray, and maggots crawled in the deep slash across her throat.
“Decomposition has advanced,” Kyle said. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Do what you can,” Rose instructed. Kyle was the only witch she knew who loved dead things. His skills with preserving bodies were often called upon for ceremonies and rites, and if the occasional preservation seemed odd, he never asked questions.
“If we remove the organs, this will be easier,” he ventured, lifting one of Kari’s arms and inspecting her fingertips.
“Like mummification?” Sarah asked.
“I was going more for taxidermy, but yeah,” he said, lowering her arm and frowning at the gaping hole in her chest.
“No, the family would like her as intact as possible,” Rose said. She couldn’t help but wonder if Dr. Frankenstein would be able to reanimate a body that had been dead several days and was as badly damaged as this one. If he could, his would be a secret worth knowing.
“I’ll need the usual,” Kyle said. “Salt, myrrh, amber.” He made a face. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
Four hours later, it was done. Kari was as well preserved as possible. Rose and Kyle placed her in a large box, and Sarah went to work putting a glamour on it, so that no one would see the body inside.
When it was done, Rose dialed the number she had for the doctor, and when he answered, she said, “We’re ready to ship. Please give me the address.”
Seattle: Dr. Temar and Hecate
Inside his laboratory Dr. Temar carefully, reverently opened the plain wooden box. Inside he saw what appeared to be dozens of gilded dried herbs and flowers. They were beautiful, delicate, and completely unreal. This was the glamour that English Rose had placed upon the crate to make sure that anyone who opened it would not see the body that was inside. He muttered a few words under his breath, ones she had told him would break the illusion.