The Rise of the Dark Lord

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The Rise of the Dark Lord Page 26

by Ashley, Kristen


  But…jeez.

  They thought Fane and his bros would turn communist?

  They really did not know vampires.

  Equality among all was so not their gig.

  “Get your speechwriters to boot up their laptops,” I said. “But these are the conditions to the statement. The only supernaturals you can discuss are Fae and witches. I’ve not ascertained how the rest feel about being publicly recognized. However, elves and witches being outed to the public will explain the recent occurrences, and make clear we have things in hand—”

  I didn’t get to finish.

  Someone snapped, “Hardly in hand. She went on a killing spree and you blew up a home.”

  “The last time she was on the surface, she wiped out entire settlements,” Ash bit. “Your writers can make that clear. And as such, your writers can share succinctly that she was capable of much more malevolence, but she was tracked and subdued in very little time. And they can capitalize on the escape of Maithieliel as an example of precisely how safe the average citizenry is, considering all Fae have her power and the last time they used it for malevolent purposes, it was again her who did the deed and it was in the goddamned Iron Age.”

  Wow.

  This was a totally awesome spin.

  My man was the greatest.

  “Viviana Honeycutt is on our team, but she’s currently in Denver,” Ash continued. “She’ll call in and work with your speechwriters on the statement. It will be reviewed by her, myself and Mathilda before the PM takes his place in front of the microphones to give it.”

  “I’m not making a statement about witches and elves,” the PM declared.

  “Yes, you are, sir,” Ash said in a steely tone.

  “We should call Josie,” I said under my breath to Ash. “She’s good at that kind of thing and she’s English. She’ll know better than Viv what’ll go down well here.”

  Without missing a beat, Ash announced, “And we’ll be calling Josephine McShane to assist in preparing the statement.”

  “I suppose we have no choice but to do as we’re told or you’ll zap us or something,” some dude muttered.

  Okay…

  Uh.

  No.

  “I have not once threatened violence against you, and you don’t know me, you’ve made no attempt to know me, but I haven’t because that simply is not in my nature and I will note, considering the power my people hold and the fact, except on very rare occasions, they have not used it for ill, it isn’t their nature either,” I said quietly. “I have not once threatened anything retaliatory, except to extricate myself from the protection of your peoples, and that is not a threat, that is a choice based on your treatment of myself and my team.”

  They all looked kind of uncomfortable at that.

  But I didn’t care.

  I kept lecturing.

  And since this quiet-talking business was working, I kept doing it like that too.

  “It will also be noted in this statement that all people have been living among witches since the Goddess bestowed The Craft on her first daughter thousands of years ago. And from us, you’ve received herbal remedies and cures, a better understanding of botanicals, and excellent midwifery which helped to advance the human population. What we’ve received in return is torture, drowning, hangings and being burned alive. Thus, it’s no wonder we hid our magicks from your tyranny. But even so, just yesterday, three of us put our lives on the line to pin down a maverick faerie who was murdering young men.”

  I took a step toward the table and finished.

  “I would suggest you stop being so bloody obvious. You fear women with resources and an end to your status quo. I further suggest you brace. Because it’s coming. And for once, you have no choice.”

  And on that, I flounced out.

  And I oh so totally flounced, swinging my hair and my ass and everything.

  Ash moved to my side.

  “Fancy a shag in a loo at 10 Downing Street?” he asked.

  I was taking from that I’d turned him on with my awesomeness.

  Or my flouncing.

  “Absolutely,” I answered.

  We never got a tour.

  But we gave each other an orgasm.

  So I’m taking that as another win.

  At three o’clock that afternoon, with Josie, Aidan, Dr. Bennett, Marcus, and select of his cabinet ministers surrounding him (including, I noted (natch) the female), the PM gave his statement.

  It was epic.

  Serious kudos to Viv and Josie for that display of “sorcery.”

  I’d transcribe it here, but it’s all over the place.

  All you’ve gotta do is Google it.

  And if you’re one of the three people on the planet who hasn’t seen it yet, I suggest you do just that.

  It wasn’t long (in other words, the next day), when other governments, with witches standing at their sides, made their own statements.

  It made me throw up a little in my mouth when I saw Agent Elizabeth Perry was one of the people flanking the head of Homeland Security, who the Americans decided to make their statement.

  But whatevs.

  It was what it was.

  And what would be would be.

  I had no choice but to Doris Day this shit.

  And hope for the best.

  Now, as you know, it wasn’t as easy as that.

  Panic was the favorite pastime of a lot of people because a) it gave the assholes excuses to behave badly and b) even I feared the unknown (so I could get it).

  We knew we weren’t going to just say, “Hey, we’re here, we’re real, we’re good people, relax. It’s all cool,” and everyone would reply, “Groovy. Giving peace a chance.”

  But we’d taken the first step.

  And you know, weird as it is, things happen for a reason.

  I would never in a million years sacrifice young men through Somerset, Devon and Cornwall so a team of witches and elves could swoop in, save the day and show we had the humans’ backs.

  But, well…

  There was no arguing it worked out that way.

  So now we’re back in Ash’s London flat and I’m back to trying to track magickal relics.

  Which was a load more boring.

  But it was a bigger load less scary and/or annoying.

  And these days, I was taking what I could get.

  12 October

  Status report:

  I still cannot astral project.

  I have a huge bruise on my hip because I actually got more than four feet off the ground on my broomstick before I fell off it.

  Have set Aidan, Dr. Bennett, et. al. to try to figure out if I can harness the power of the Pegasus feather because if that’s the most powerful thing on the planet, and I can wield it, that might come in handy.

  PS on this: Apparently, all tomes pertaining to the Pegasus feather were also locked away in Area 666, so this was a long shot. Still, they were trying.

  And Ash had to shove the telly in the closet because I was spending too much time watching shows like The View with people sitting around debating how they feel about the existence of supernaturals.

  Or fake witches or elves coming forward for interviews, spouting shit about witches and elves that was wholly untrue, and they were annoying the crap out of me.

  Or real witches or elves coming forward for interviews and the interviewers asking them stupid, narrow-minded questions that made me want to astral project myself or get back on my broomstick and show them precisely what a wand could do.

  And yes, you can read from that, that’s why I’ve been practicing astral projection and broomstick riding and again why the telly is in the closet.

  And last, had what I thought was the awesome idea:

  Instead of tracking the relics Bligh and Darling had, going to Area 666 and getting our own to create a Mutually Assured Destruction Scenario.

  Ash nixed this idea, by the by, saying, “They’re locked up for a reason, Mathilda. Even people with
the purest of hearts and best of intentions can and do get corrupted by that kind of power. We know that because they have and that’s why those things are crated and forbidden…for all.”

  Thus ensued one of the coolest conversations I’ve had in my life.

  “Does the Ark of the Covenant really melt people?” (Me)

  “Yes.” (Ash)

  “Oh my Goddess! Seriously?” (Me)

  “Yes. It does that, amongst other things.” (Ash)

  “What other things?” (Me)

  “What a man sows, he will also reap.” (Ash)

  “Say what?” (Me, clearly not having been to Vacation Bible School)

  “The Ark of the Covenant holds the Commandments. The Commandments are God’s will. If opened, His will is done. In other words, if you’re close to the Ark when it’s opened, and you’ve broken even a single commandment, you will reap what you sow in biblical proportions.” (Ash)

  “Holy shit.” (Me)

  “Yes.” (Ash, laughing)

  “Do we have the Holy Grail?” (Me)

  “Yes.” (Ash)

  “Holy shit!” (Me)

  Ash just laughed again, until he said, “And just to say, darling, there’s a reason Mona Lisa is smiling like she is.”

  And then he told me all about Mona Lisa’s smile.

  But I’m not sharing.

  Because even if the reason is awesome, if everyone knew, it wouldn’t be as cool of a painting.

  As an aside, he also told me who killed Kennedy.

  And I’m not sharing that either.

  Because it’s not as exciting as you think.

  There’s something to be said for mystery.

  Just sayin’.

  18 October

  Right.

  Just had two very emotional days.

  So emotional, I needed to recover by eating Junior Poons crispy aromatic duck, and although Ash didn’t drive us all the way from London to Clevedon so I could have it (seeing as we were getting nowhere near The Gables due to my earlier vision, this one of the few things Ash and I didn’t fight about), he hired a driver to go and get it for me.

  Seriously.

  He hired a driver!

  To make a four-hour delivery!

  We had to heat it up in the microwave.

  It was still fabulous.

  So, this all started two days ago when I was at the flat by myself, reading some book Aidan had couriered to me that might help me do some spellwork to track the relics and Ash was with Mack at some Le Société thing (I didn’t ask, they were being cagey, but I had a feeling Mack was into my sister, and as such, if something came of that, would be eligible to become a member).

  So I was a little shocked, when Ash wasn’t there, that Marcus showed.

  He was carrying a humongous gold box.

  Seeing as I liked Marcus and I liked humongous gold boxes whatever they might contain, not to mention, he was my soon-to-be father-in-law, I let him in.

  After I did, I kinda wished I hadn’t but not for the reasons you’d think.

  He seemed awkward and didn’t want to catch my eyes which made me feel weird.

  He then put the box on Ash’s coffee table and announced, “I would be honored if you’d wear that. And I know Bella would be honored if you would. As her mother was honored that my Bella had worn it.”

  He said nothing more, just kissed my cheek (awkwardly) and vamoosed (quickly).

  I stared at the box, from his words, now knowing what was in it.

  And it scared the bejeezus out of me because I reckoned Ash’s mom got married in the 80s which meant the wedding gown in that box would probably be a poofy-sleeved monstrosity with requisite beaded headband with floof of netting veil at the back (the 80s were not the decade for wedding gowns, even (arguably) Princess Diana mucked it up with that silk that wrinkled so easily).

  But since Ash’s mom’s mom was honored Isabella had worn it, and witches lived long lives, that meant it could be from any decade at all for the last maybe fifteen of them.

  And let’s face it, English folks weren’t known for their fashion.

  Alexander McQueen notwithstanding.

  As well as Stella McCartney and Vivienne Westwood.

  And even with the Wrinkled Silk Debate, it went without saying that Diana rocked style.

  All right, so the stereotype was that English folks weren’t known for their fashion.

  Ahem.

  Still, Ash’s mom (and grandma) could be from anywhere, and whatever was in that box could be something I did not want to wear to my wedding.

  But now I’d have to.

  Because Ash’s mom was lost to him and Marcus had put me in a sitch I couldn’t easily extricate myself from.

  And I was me.

  Mathilda.

  Glamour Girl.

  So if you think I didn’t have very concrete plans of precisely what my wedding gown would look like, you’re crazy.

  Now, with that big gold box on Ash’s coffee table, I had no choice.

  I was in the position, whatever it was, I had to wear it.

  Gah!

  Deciding to get it over with quickly, I flipped off the top of the box like I was flicking a spider out a window.

  And I didn’t get the chance to even look at the dress, because a delicate piece of lavender colored paper wafted up and then floated down at my feet.

  I bent, retrieved it and read:

  Mathilda,

  If Marcus has given this to you, the joyous time has come.

  I’m so very excited for you both.

  From what I’ve seen in readings, I really cannot find the words to express how very happy I am that my Sebastian has you in his life.

  Even as a young boy, he was so very serious. So studious. So earnest.

  He stopped playing with toys at around age four and spent most of his time looking at picture books (until he could read himself, which was at age five) or sitting beside his father and watching the news like he knew what they were reporting.

  He then dove into his studies and activities in a manner that anything less than receiving the very top marks or being the very best at whatever he was doing would be the end of the world.

  And I do believe that in some small part of him, the part of him that’s me, the part of him where I gave him magic, he knew he was right.

  That he had to be the best at everything he endeavored, or it would be the end of the world.

  Or worse, the end of you.

  But in my readings, I saw you made him angry.

  Frequently.

  And made him laugh.

  More frequently.

  And just made him feel.

  All the time.

  And brought the ridiculous and the sublime into his world and forced him to see just how lovely both are. How important it is for us to embrace them. For there is not enough that is ridiculous or sublime in life, so we must hold close those times we can be silly, or we can be inspired.

  And you give that to him.

  I know many debated if it would be my Sebastian, or the other man who earned your trust, your heart, your love, your hand and the future destined for the both of you.

  But I always knew it would be my boy.

  For he always did his best at everything he did. So I knew without doubt he’d win you.

  But also, readings never lie (even if they can be frustratingly unclear, as I’m sure you know by now).

  And I told him it would be him.

  I told him one day, he’d meet this amazing young woman who would open his world and bring such goodness into his life, he at first maybe wouldn’t know what to do with it.

  And then she would guide him to learn that there was one thing in this world he did not have to be responsible for. One thing in this world he would not have to look after. One thing in this world he would not have to protect.

  One thing in this world he would simply be given, free and clear of any burden.

  One thing in this world he could count
on for the rest of his days.

  Your love.

  Thank you for giving that to my son.

  As I’m sure Marcus has told you, I would be honored if you’d wear my gown at your wedding. A gown I was honored to wear as it was also my mother’s.

  But I know you have your own style, my lovely Mathilda, so please know I will not be offended if it isn’t to your liking.

  The whole point of you is that you are you.

  And I would never do anything to change that.

  I wish you love and happiness beyond your wildest imaginings.

  Take care of my boy.

  Yours in gratitude and fondness,

  Bella

  So, uh…yeah.

  I obviously lost my nut and dissolved into tears.

  And by the way, I knew I was totally wearing that gown to my wedding, I didn’t care what it looked like.

  (Good news: it wasn’t a monstrosity. It was all Audrey Hepburn meets Grace Kelly silk with lace over the bodice, sheer at the shoulders where the lace skimmed over the points, sleeveless (not strapless), V-necked with lace dripping into the graceful folds of a tulle skirt and a thin ribbon belt with a tidy bow at the front—not my vision, but I could so totally work with that.)

  I was still sobbing (and I’ll admit, some of it was due to relief the gown was rad, but not a lot of it) when Ash got home and freaked out (in an Ash way) that I was sitting on the floor with my head on my arm on the coffee table and bawling.

  So about two point-oh-two seconds after he walked through the door, I was in his lap and he was cradling me, stroking my back and whispering, “Darling, what on earth’s the matter?”

  I didn’t know if it was right, if Bella would want it, but if I was Ash and I’d lost my mom, I’d want to see that lavender colored paper.

  And what she’d written on it.

  Not to mention, I was still incapable of speech.

  So I handed it to him.

  You know, I’ve no idea if I’ll ever again see what I saw when I watched the love of my life read that note.

  I just learned the cure for my tears.

  Seeing them fill Ash’s eyes.

  So I quit being the one stroked, and I held my guy after he finished that note, shoved his face in my neck and absently attempted to squeeze the breath out of my body.

 

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