Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 03 - Dark Legacy

by Nancy K. Duplechain

  “For you?”

  “I hate myself for thinking it, but” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I was afraid Charmagne had something to do with what’s been going on—with the masks, the dreams, Gretchen—I hate myself for thinking that. She is the greatest paladin I have ever met. The years I spent with her, learning from her, have made me who I am today.”

  “I think she wants the same thing for me.”

  He thought about this. “Maybe. But I don’t. Not right now. It’s very late, and there’s been enough excitement for tonight. Let Noah sleep in your room, and you sleep in his. Tomorrow, if Noah is better, I’ll take him with me. I may just decide to send you back to Louisiana.”

  I stood there, looking down at the carpet like a little girl who was just scolded by her daddy. That’s more or less what it was.

  “I’ll check on Noah later,” he said, his voice softening. “You go and get some sleep.”

  I closed his door but went downstairs instead of Noah’s room. I couldn’t sleep now if I wanted to. I suddenly wanted to eat my feelings, so I headed for the kitchen to raid the fridge. When I got there, the light was on, and Charmagne was at the sink. We startled each other.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be up,” I said.

  “No, no! Come in, dear. I was just putting away Danielle’s dish from the soup I brought her earlier.”

  “How is she doing?”

  Her shoulders sagged, and she looked down at the stone floor, her eyes watering. “Not better. You can’t understand what it’s like to watch your child suffer and not be able to help. Every day I work with her, healing her as best I can, but nothing helps. She’s just fading before my eyes … Dear, forgive me.” She smiled, wiping away a couple of tears. “I am being an impolite host. I should not bring up such matters with you.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m really sorry that—you know.”

  She looked at me and tilted her head. “Have you been crying, my dear?”

  I looked down at the floor.

  “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I … something happened. With Noah. I …”

  She came over to me and took my hands in hers. “You can tell me!”

  “I almost killed him,” I whispered.

  She was quiet for a moment. I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eyes. “How did you almost kill him?”

  “We were, um, together, and … I started to feel like I do when I’m—with what you’re teaching me—all cold inside, and his energy coming into me, and I couldn’t stop at first. It was like I wanted it, like …” My throat closed up, and a few tears fell down my cheeks. I felt my hands shaking.

  Charmagne lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “Do you know why this happened?”

  I shook my head.

  “You have taken swimming lessons, no?”

  “Yeah, but what—”

  “They did not just throw you into the deep end, did they? No. They showed you a little at a time, teaching you the techniques you needed. Tonight, you drifted out into the ocean. It was very scary, yes. But you knew enough to come back to shore. I think you are ready to learn to swim in the deep. Come with me.”

  She led me out of the kitchen and into an impressive wine cellar with hundreds of bottles and a marbled wine-tasting bar. Carrie would have died and gone to Heaven if she had seen this. I had hoped she was going to sit me down and uncork a bottle of wine. To be honest, I could have used a glass, but she continued past the bar to a stone wall. She stopped, pushed her hand forward, and a section of the wall shifted, revealing a big, dark space. She turned on a switch inside, and a series of lights illuminated a winding, descending stone staircase.

  Great, Nancy Drew again, I thought, remembering the tunnel in the Grigori House. I followed her down into a … well, it looked like a cross between a dungeon and a cave. The walls were natural rock, un-carved, and the floor was earth with small puddles of mud here and there that reflected the moonlight shining in through a large opening way at the top. And where the beam of moonlight hit, it showed a winged figure bound in chains attached to the wall.

  It was female, its skin the color of burnished bronze. When she heard us approach, she lifted her head and opened her solid black eyes. There were no whites surrounding those pools of ink. She hissed, unfolded her wings, jumped onto the wall, and crawled sideways as far as her chains would permit. Behind her was another of her kind—a male—with yellow eyes and wings black as night, also chained to the wall, but he wore a muzzle of sorts. He stood, his eyes transfixed on us, watching our every move.

  “How long have you been keeping them here?” I said, my voice so small I could have been whispering to myself.

  “Ridge has been bringing them to me daily. I need them for Danielle.”

  I looked at her, raising my eyebrows.

  She gestured behind me. I turned to see Ridge sitting on an old sofa with Danielle in his arms, his violet wings wrapped around her. She looked deathly ill with her hair plastered to her forehead and neck, skin clammy, rapid breathing.

  “My God,” I whispered. “What are you doing to her?”

  “To her?” said Charmagne, her eyes alight with defensive fire. “I’m doing it for her! You have no idea what it’s like to watch your child die! To know that you have the power to heal anyone except your child and then to watch her suffer. By transferring the energy of these wretched things, I pour it into Danielle to keep her life force going, and each day I pray that we’ll find another to use until we find that damned coven and make them remove this curse!”

  She looked at me and softened a bit, her eyes pleading. “You are so very strong now. You are our best hope of defeating the coven. But you need to complete your training. You need to finally take a life.”

  “You mean you want me to …”

  “Yes. This is your final task. This is how you will master your power.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Danielle with her small voice. I looked at her, lying down with her head resting on Ridge’s lap, and I pitied her.

  “You’re … you’re draining the life force from nephils and putting it into your daughter? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I’m careful to only use the vitals, not the darkness.”

  “Does Miles know?”

  She shook her head. “No one does. Except for the people in this room.” She beckoned to Ridge. He stood with Danielle in his arms and carried her to Charmagne. Together, they went to the male nephil. I cautiously followed. Only a few feet from him, I could see why he didn’t move. A steel rod was jammed horizontally through his lower back so that it threaded his spine from the inside. He must have been in excruciating pain.

  Charmagne placed her hand over his heart. He flinched and then groaned in pain. The female nephil hissed nearby. Charmagne placed her other hand over Danielle’s heart and then closed her eyes in concentration. I watched, horrified, as the male bucked his body once and screamed in agony, but it didn’t last long. He seemed to wither before me. As his body caved in on itself, Danielle’s breathing slowed, and color returned to her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open as the nephil crumbled to dust.

  Ridge set Danielle on her feet. Charmagne caressed her daughter’s face and then almost fainted. Ridge caught her and took her to the sofa.

  “I’ll be all right,” she breathed and then looked at me. “Let me ask you something, Leigh. Why have you made the decision to be a paladin?”

  I shook my head, trying not to think about what I just witnessed. “For the same reason any of you did. To help people.”

  She looked me over for a moment and then said, “You put your life at risk for these people, but what do you get in return?”

  I had a sudden attack of Déjà vu, but I couldn’t place where. “It’s just the right thing to do,” I said.

  “I won’t argue with you that humanity is a strong virtue and should be admired, but it is also a sacrifice which often goes unnoticed. Our history—the history of the paladins
—is one of sacrifice and terror.”

  I furrowed my brows.

  Charmagne unsteadily rose from the sofa and guided me over to the female nephil. She turned to her daughter, who now stood at Ridge’s side, and said, “Show her, Danielle.”

  I looked over my shoulder as Danielle raised her brown eyes and looked at me with a sad reluctance. She closed her eyes, and my head was instantly filled with brutal visions of tortured women and men during the Inquisition. Some were burned at the stake; some faced the easy death of the Guillotine, while others suffered horrific agony from an array of torture devices. Naked bodies tied to chairs and wheels, heads being crushed in vices, limbs being torn apart, flesh burned and bones shattered through anguished screams as Charmagne narrated Danielle’s projection in my mind:

  “They persecuted us throughout the years. They condemned us as witches.” After a cynical, whispered laugh, she added, “And some of us were. But we did not deserve to be tortured and killed by those we were trying to help, to save their stupid little lives. They paid us back by showing us no mercy. They didn’t want us. They wanted blood. It’s always been their way.”

  The vision dissolved, and now I saw the female nephil before me. She hissed again and pivoted off the wall, trying to fly at us, but was stopped by the chains. She growled and thrashed. It was a monster, something evil. But it didn’t seem like a fair fight.

  Charmagne breathed into my ear: “Make no mistake. It would kill you if it could. It would kill everyone you love. It’s time for you to take control of your power. Be who you were born to be.”

  I reluctantly raised my hands and focused on pulling her energy away from her body. She fought at first, thrashing again, trying to rip the chains from the wall. I pulled harder, my core turning colder, the nothingness filling me from the inside out. Her body started to cave in on itself, like she was slowly melting before me. I was so cold I couldn’t breathe. Just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, she crumbled and, like her brother, turned to dust upon scattered feathers.

  My senses were extraordinarily heightened, and my eyes picked up every bit of color in the dull dungeon. I was not weakened in the least. On the contrary, I felt I could conquer death as I sat on the throne of the world.

  10

  The Withered Garden

  I slept later than I had intended, waking up around 10:00. Everyone had already eaten, and Charmagne told me that Miles and Noah chartered a flight to Brussels to the occult museum. Miles told Charmagne that I was to stay at the house. I felt like a teenager who was being grounded.

  Charmagne had other plans. She spent the day working with me, harnessing my ability to drain, letting me practice on her so that I could master doing it in small amounts. Felix showed up a little after 4:00, looking for Miles and surprised that I wasn’t with Noah in Brussels.

  “Miles wasn’t answering his phone. I thought he might be here,” he said. “I found another reference to Hecate. My friend in Scotland is in a coven that pays homage to the goddess. She said in the Forêt de Meudon there is a place called The Garden of Hecate. Many years ago, that area of the forest was used as a place of worship. When the forest became more like a park, officials romanticized it, erecting statues and hedges. They redrew the trail maps over the years and the garden was forgotten, but it’s still there.”

  “There’s no telling when Miles will return,” said Charmagne. “I think it’s best to wait for him.”

  “Time is running out,” said Felix. “We have to do everything we can to help Gretchen. You and Leigh come with me. The three of us—”

  “I’m sorry, Felix. It’s out of the question. Ridge is not here at the moment, and I can’t leave Danielle alone. And Leigh is under strict orders to stay here until Miles returns.”

  “But I’m all alone right now. Everyone else is investigating other cities. I think this is a very good lead.”

  “I’m sorry. I am. But no, Felix. Now, excuse me. I have to see to Danielle.” She went upstairs, leaving Felix fuming.

  “Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one who is truly worried about Gretchen! She’s my best friend. This can’t wait.” He looked at me. “I know you’re supposed to stay here, but do you think you can come with me, just to check it out?”

  “Oh, I … um, I don’t know—”

  “Please. We won’t be long. I saw you fight last night. You are very strong now. But if we see danger, we’ll come back and tell the others.”

  My feathers were still ruffled from Miles ordering me like I was a child. And the other part of me really did want to help. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  When we arrived in the large forest located just outside of Paris, we followed the map to an old hiking trail that looked like it was long forgotten by the world. From here, we could drive no farther. We had maybe half an hour before the sun set. The map showed the trail to be about a mile.

  “Are you ready?” said Felix.

  “No.”

  He laughed. “Come on.”

  We walked briskly down the trail, following mellow slopes as fallen leaves blew gently about our feet and the rays of the setting sun pierced the chestnut and ash trees. Birds flew back and forth and small animals scurried, taking care of the day’s last business before nightfall.

  Twilight had come, and the forest around us had become gray and bleak when we came upon the Garden of Hecate. The archway entrance was a crumbling stone ruin flanked by wild, dead hedges.

  “It’s getting dark pretty fast,” I said.

  Felix nodded. “The time of year, and all the trees. If we find this coven, we should just leave right away. I don’t know about you, but I just want to get back home, sit by the fire and have a nice glass of hot spiced wine with my lover.”

  I smiled. “That does sound nice. What’s his name?”

  “Michel. Michael, as you would say.”

  “How long have you been together?”

  “It will be five years this Christmas. We met under the mistletoe.” He grinned fondly at his memory and then said, “Do you have a lover? Or I should say boyfriend, which sounds a bit silly to me.” He laughed politely.

  “Kind of. Not really.”

  “Ah, one of those. I’ll ask you again later. Maybe you’ll know the answer then. Let’s hurry for now. Michel and my wine await!”

  We crossed through the archway, careful to avoid the fallen stones. The garden was a bed of decay, maybe five acres in diameter. It looked like it would have been beautiful, like an escape for some pouting princess in a long-forgotten fairytale. Now, it was eerie with collapsed statuary as the wind reanimated dead foliage.

  An abandoned greenhouse stood in the far left corner toward the back of the property; what windows that were left were caked in green moss and mildew. Trees grew through the broken windows, perhaps wanting to escape the sinister conservatory, while thick vines clung to it like tentacles.

  Midway down the property was a stone cottage, also streaked with mildew and moss coming from the cracks between the stones, with less than half of a thatched roof still attached. Aside from these structures and the fallen statues, the place was empty.

  “Any idea where they would be?” I said.

  Felix shrugged. “Let’s try that cottage first.”

  The door was wide open, hanging from one hinge. A giant spider web covered the doorway. There were no windows, so the inside was quite dark, but it was also very small. There was no one in the single-room cottage.

  “This must have been used as a tool shed when the garden was a regular tourist spot,” he said.

  “So much for that,” I said, and then noticed Felix looking over my shoulder, into the distance. I turned around. “What?”

  “You see those foxes?”

  I squinted and, sure enough, I saw two little silver foxes hanging around the entrance of the greenhouse. A moment later, two more showed up, and the four of them went inside.

  “Cute,” I said.

  “That is not normal.”


  “Foxes in a forest aren’t normal?”

  “Not silver ones. Not here.”

  “Wait, you mean witches can turn themselves into animals or something?”

  He nodded.

  “How come Cee Cee and Ruby can’t do that? They’re descended from Anseis, too.”

  “Because they chose to practice magic through Voodoo. These are practicing magic through witchcraft. I haven’t seen all witches do it, but I have a friend who is a witch in a lovely coven in Glasgow. She’s the one who told me about this place. They’re chosen animal is a rabbit.”

  I looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

  He nodded again. “Most adorable group of little brown bunnies hopping around.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not.”

  “And they’re good witches?”

  “Yes. They use white magic. They know—as do Cee Cee and Ruby—that whatever you put out comes back to you three-fold.”

  I nodded toward the greenhouse. “They don’t know that?”

  “They do, but the Dark Side strengthens them. Power and greed—they are what cause paladins to turn. Now come on. Let’s get to them before they go away.”

  “So, do they, like, live here?” I asked as we cautiously approached the greenhouse.

  “No. They likely all have their own homes and their own lives. But this is their meeting place.”

  “Why can’t any of you people use a hotel convention center like everyone else?”

  Felix shushed me as we neared the entrance.

  The air was sweet, dank and musty. Inside, vines hung from trees, and dead, fallen branches and leaves lay scattered on the uprooted tile. It was difficult to squeeze through the limbs and tangled vines and overgrown brush. We proceeded with caution, not seeing the foxes.

  When we made it to the other end, I was quite disturbed to see a pile of small bones that looked like they had been mice and birds and one time. The bones were near a hole in the wall that I would not have noticed if Felix hadn’t pushed some brush aside. The hole wasn’t so much in the wall as under it, surrounded by broken pieces of floor tile. It was too narrow for either one of us to fit through.