by Lauren Dane
“She’s also married to the Scion of North America,” Genevieve added.
“That too. Yes. He’s all right. He likes hugs but not so much stuffed animals. And he’s still a self-righteous prick who will always put a Vampire before a human or a witch. That’s how it is. If you’ve been around a Vampire for five minutes you’d know that. And this whatever it is you’re serving? For real isn’t going to invite you to the ceremony where it takes over. No medals of valor for you, Patsy. No seats on the dais. No fanfare. Once you cease to be of any use to them, you’re dead.”
Genevieve heard the truth in Rowan’s words. Felt sad for the reality behind them and the life Rowan had led that brought such a reality to bear. But if Genevieve heard it, so did Patrizia, even if she didn’t have the context Genevieve did.
“She’s not even that good a witch. Can’t even land a blow on little old me. No magic Rowan.” Star barked once as if agreeing with her owner.
But that wasn’t true. Rowan had magic. Unique magic. Not the same as a magic practitioner had, but it was there.
“Go on then, Patrizia, tell me the truth of this so that I might judge your actions.” Genevieve drew all the power and importance of her position with the Conclave all around herself. Flexed it so the other witch would see it and understand she had no chance at winning against the odds she faced.
“Or I could just shoot her in the head and we can go have dinner. I’m hungry and angry and we know what that ends up with.”
Patrizia attempted to run at Genevieve, throwing offensive magics one after the next as she did. None landed because Genevieve’s shields, like the one she had around Rowan, were strong. And powered by the magic that hit them. The more Patrizia threw at Genevieve, the more protected Genevieve would be.
More, Genevieve could feel the unique magic in the area swirling around her, protecting and aiding her.
“What are you?” Patrizia demanded once she realized her efforts had gotten her nowhere.
“I’m an Aubert. And you can’t beat me. Not in a thousand years could you come close to how much power and knowledge I have.” To underline that, she used her magic to wrap around Patrizia’s body over and over again until she was helpless and fell over to the dirt with an exhalation of breath.
“Why didn’t you do that first?” Rowan asked.
“I wanted to give Patrizia a chance to speak for herself. Everyone should have that opportunity.” And she wasn’t even aware she could do it until she’d actually made it happen.
“If you say so. This dumb twat isn’t going to tell us anything because she doesn’t know anything. She’s some low-level drone they used to draw fire away from themselves. Chaff. Those wards have to be someone else’s work because she’s a ding-dong.”
Rowan took Patrizia by the back of her shirt and dragged her bodily back into the house where she dumped Patrizia in front of the couch.
There were rules with magic use. Rules about not hurting people. Rules about not using your power to cause harm. That’s why Genevieve gave Patrizia a chance to defend herself. That and, she supposed, she was interested enough in Patrizia’s gifts to want to provide an extra opportunity to come clean.
Now? Well, she’d done all that and had fended off violent attacks from the other witch. Now she could simply get what she needed however she needed it. Because her power was stolen.
Genevieve spoke the words of the spell aloud so Patrizia would know exactly what was about to happen. Knew the words would compel the other witch to answer even if she wasn’t in the Conclave. The magic Genevieve had, fueled by whatever was in the air, had made it impossible for Patrizia to resist.
“What is your involvement with Roderick Haigh?” Genevieve asked.
* * *
“I started selling him spells a decade ago,” Patrizia ground out. “For extra money. Better sex. Luck. Hair growth. Humans are so simple. Especially the men. Give them hair and an erection and they think they’re in heaven. Then last year I met a very old Vampire who was also a magic user.”
“Lyr.”
Patrizia’s gaze skipped to Rowan, clearly surprised she’d said the name aloud.
“Oh what? Lyr, Lyr, Lyr. He’s not Beetlejuice. I was there when he was killed true dead. He’s not coming back,” Rowan told her.
“Yes, him. He...he gave me some help. Unlocked my potential.” There was so much pride in that, Rowan could understand exactly how that Vampire had gotten to Pats there. She’d been your average, everyday grifter witch and suddenly this Vamp supercharges her ability and she can do more spells. Better spells. Spells that could do real damage.
And each time she’d done a working, the stolen power she’d been using ate away a little bit more of her lifeforce. And she thought she was different and it wouldn’t happen to her.
“And then you began to sell different kinds of spells to Roderick?” Rowan asked.
“Lyr had plans for us all! He helped me write the kind of spells I was born to do but had been prevented because of my poor education.”
Rowan sighed heavily and Star growled.
“Skipping over that load of crap, the spells you wrote for Roderick were for Lyr anyway. Why didn’t you just give them to him? Or if he had the power to give to you, why didn’t he do the spells himself?”
“Because there’s only so much magic a witch can use at once,” Genevieve said. “Stolen magic doesn’t belong inside a witch. It’s temporary and it’s destructive in the long term. In this case, too, the intent that Patrizia put into her work made the spellcraft stronger. Especially to those who’d be benefitting from the stolen power. And because Lyr was afraid of whoever and whatever he was helping and he wanted to put some others between him and the recipient of the siphon spells. And I bet he even gave Patrizia a cut off the top as he ripped off the Blood Front.”
Genevieve stood but Rowan remained where she was, keeping an eye on their prisoner. Genevieve began to wander the room, Star at her heels.
“Who is the being Lyr was sending all the power to?” Genevieve asked.
“I don’t know.” Patrizia’s voice showed she’d given up fighting. Probably that last bit about how Lyr was using her to draw fire away from him. Lyr filled Patrizia with stolen magical power but it was only to use her.
“Your wards are beautiful. Were, I should say, because I tore holes in them. I’m guessing that came after Lyr gave you the power he stole?” Genevieve asked as she pulled a book free from the case and several sheets of paper fell out. “Oh look, more siphon spells. Don’t feel too bad, Patrizia, these spells are so very good there’s no way most witches could write them without extra help.”
“I wrote those spells! I don’t need any help,” Patrizia said.
“The increased power levels are likely dwindling each day. Stolen power only lasts so long without more. I’m guessing that in a week, maybe two, you’d have been back to your previous abilities. You’re trying to write spells to steal it for yourself so you won’t be a run-of-the-mill witch in prison for ripping off elderly people for their pensions. Again.”
Rowan heard the past tense in the things Genevieve was saying. Understood it meant a death sentence for Patrizia when they were finished with her. Looked like she and Genevieve weren’t headed for their first fight after all.
“You stole power from someone else. It’s not yours. It won’t stay. You know that. No matter how many pretty lies Lyr told you, you had to know. Just like you knew your magic was harming innocents. And,” Genevieve said as she bent in front of Patrizia, “just like you know every bit of this is a violation of our rules.”
“And the Treaty,” Rowan added.
“Search the house. I’ve undone all her protections and traps. You’re safe. Patrizia and I will be here chatting while you do.”
Rowan shrugged and got up, starting her examination there in the living room. Behind a stone in the firepl
ace she found a small strongbox full of money and more spells. Rowan just began to pile it all on the table near where Genevieve had settled.
There were two bedrooms. The master was a mess but Rowan didn’t find anything more secret than a vibrator. She grabbed the journals she found inside the guest room, which looked more like a workspace than anything else. Rowan doubted that, other than Lyr, Patrizia had many guests way out there in the boonies.
In that room she found a shoebox full of crystals and stones, some parchment that’d already been spelled to ready it to be used in a working of some sort.
The shoebox didn’t get much reaction from Patrizia when Rowan brought it out, but the journals sure did. Her eyes widened and she began to struggle anew against the spells that had bound her in place.
“She can’t get free,” Genevieve told Rowan. “Let’s get a look at the things she’s so passionate about.”
Rowan flipped open the journals to find page after page of neatly written entries. Decades’ worth of crimes, grifts and then, when she’d met Lyr, there’d been more. More descriptions of the Vampire. Lovesick commentary about how they were going to start a new era where paranormal beings took their rightful place at the top, over humans who Patrizia had a deep loathing for. He’d slept with her and taken her blood to keep her compliant. But she’d seen it as romantic. She’d seen it as sharing power with him.
“Do you hate humans because despite not having any magical talent they still manage to lead successful lives full of ambition?” Rowan asked.
“They’re nothing. They breed faster than they can handle, faster than anything can handle and they ruin everything because of it. We’re doing the planet a favor by taking over.”
“You’re not taking over shit, Pats. Your boyfriend is true dead. I watched that happen with my own eyes. I can promise you it hurt. The Blood Front is destroyed—my husband and his father did that part. There’s no one left in your conspiracy except whoever is at the very top. If he or she were going to save you, it’d have happened by now. And all I see is a lonely old woman who bet on the wrong horse her whole life and fucked it up time and again. You’re the only one who is nothing.”
Chapter Twenty
As they got back out on the main road, the glow of mage fire in the rearview mirror, Genevieve spoke. “The magic here and at Lyr’s house, in the blood that spelled Clive, it all has similar elements.”
Patrizia was dead and the fire that consumed her house would also clear out any evidence of their presence and any magic involvement.
Rowan kept driving, knowing her friend wasn’t finished yet.
“The spells she’d written to siphon power to herself? I told you I’ve studied magic all over the globe for centuries. I don’t recognize key elements of the working. And yet there’s something familiar on some level. I must have read about them or seen something familiar from a working I witnessed.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Yes. It could be that because we’ve been so involved with these spells since this mess started I feel as if I’ve seen them before.” Genevieve broke off with a quiet curse. “I might speak to my father about it. Or contact the archivist at the Senate offices to see if she knows what it might be.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with Enyo?” Rowan asked, referencing the Vampire sorceress who nearly killed her a year before. “She was a practitioner when she Made Lyr so he had dual powers. Maybe it transferred in part to Patrizia somehow.” She’d had so many infusions of ancient Vampire blood in the last three years that it had changed her in what appeared to be permanent ways.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell anyone but Clive about that, though.
“Perhaps.”
When Genevieve said nothing else, Rowan went on. “I’ll be interested to know what you find out. I have my own sources, but to be honest, I’m sure your connections when it comes to magic are far better and much more useful.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I did notice something,” Rowan said.
Genevieve turned a little in her seat, giving her focus to Rowan. “What?”
“You didn’t smoke tonight. Are you all right? I don’t mean to get too personal.”
Genevieve laughed prettily. “This too is something I’m puzzling over. I can’t put it into words yet. But I’ll share with you once I can.”
Rowan had her own secrets so she made a sound of assent and then remembered something. “I forgot to tell you about my most recent dream!”
“Share! I need something to take my mind off this mysterious magic problem.”
“Iron and salt. That’s what I remember. That’s what I think I’m supposed to remember. This prophecy dream stuff is new to me so I’m just trying to find my way.”
“Iron and salt,” Genevieve repeated. “Salt is often used to draw a protective circle. It can be a hindrance to magic, especially malicious magic. There’s the Great Salt Lake and the Bonneville Salt Flats.”
“There are salt flats in Death Valley too. Then there’s the ocean, which isn’t too very far away all things considered. I don’t think it’ll be Vampires because they don’t like salt water. Avoid it if at all possible. They don’t like the desert in the summertime either because the sun is up for so many hours daily. Clive and his people are in Las Vegas as a way to thumb their noses at the sun. At least that’s what I say.”
“Salt water isn’t good for the magic Vampires have and are made up of. Demons can be held in a salt circle. Other things you might call would also be held in a salt circle. Was it a defensive sign in your dream?” Genevieve asked.
“I don’t know.”
“And iron? Like an iron you press clothes with or the metal?”
“The metal.”
“It’s one of the few ways you can mortally wound the Fae outside Faerie.”
Rowan sucked in a breath as she realized. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I was associating it with an iron weapon, but that too could be about a Faerie. I thought they mainly kept to themselves on the other side of the Veil.”
“I’m not an expert on Faeries but from what I understand they withdrew behind the Veil a thousand human years ago. They rarely come through. Mainly because Faerie is a beautiful place so why would they want to leave. And now I’d wager there’s enough ambient iron in the air, especially around larger human settlements, that they’d be weakened by it. They haven’t been a force in our world for centuries.”
“Maybe they are now? And maybe salt has something to do with it?”
“Perhaps. But from what I know of the Fae, they are strong. They have much magic, personal magic that would make my magic pale in comparison,” Genevieve said as she looked out the window.
It was ten in the evening. Rowan knew, from the dinging on her phone, that her spouse was wondering where she was and what she was doing. After they’d dealt with Patrizia and the house, she’d gotten a quick text to David to update him on the situation and asked him to let Clive know they’d be back in town by midnight or so.
Naturally her husband wanted to be told this from Rowan’s own mouth. But his haughtiness had to wait because there were other things to handle before she had to pull over to text him back.
And anyway, if it was an emergency he’d just call her. No, he was pestering her because he liked to know what was happening and he didn’t. Spoiled brat.
“I’ll have David and Vanessa access all the information Hunter Corp. has regarding the Fae. Hopefully we can get something from it and it’ll aid us in the next steps.”
“Good. I’ll do the same on my end.” True to her word, Genevieve made a call and ordered the person on the other end to get all the relevant information they could about the Fae, especially as it pertained to modern times and anything to do with salt or iron.
“I know this hole-in-the-wall diner in about twenty miles. Let’s stop there for a late dinner. I’m s
tarving,” Rowan said.
“Is this one of those places that will give me some awful stomach ailment?”
Rowan snorted. “Why would I want to eat at a place that has bad food that’d make me or you sick? There’ll be a lot of weirdos but the food is good. In fact, the chili burger is one of the best I’ve ever had.”
“Chili burger?”
“That’ll be what you’re having. With cheese and onions and fresh avocado. And beer. The beer is also good.”
Just a few minutes later—Rowan still drove very fast—they approached the place she’d need to turn off to go to the diner she’d mentioned.
And that’s when she saw the row of motorcycles just next to the turnoff.
“Um. I think we’ll keep driving. I don’t know what that’s about and I don’t want to.”
Genevieve looked closer and then put a hand on Rowan’s arm. “No. Turn off and pull over where they are. It’s the Dust Devils.”
“Still not a super great idea to go poking into whatever it is they’re up to.” The Devils were a kind of power that made Rowan more than nervous. They were something so other, so disconnected to everything else she knew and made her peace with, that they scared her.
“Trust me, Rowan. I can handle this.”
Rowan did as Genevieve bid, but texted Clive quickly, where they were and what they were about to face, before getting out of the car. She didn’t want him to panic, and she underlined that to him, but she wanted him to know just in case something went sideways.
Genevieve got out of the car and waited for Rowan and Star to get out on the other side. Yes, she could handle herself with these Dust Devils but the backup was good.
Darius, looking dangerous and sexy all at once, got off his bike and strolled over to where they stood.