by Jackie D
Morgan set her glass on the table. “She’s telling the truth.” She snapped her fingers, and Tammi slumped on the couch. “By the goddess, Blaise is insufferable.”
Hazel walked in and looked among the three of them. “What the hell happened to her?” She pointed to Tammi.
Morgan waved her hand. “She’s fine. I just put her to sleep. Her voice was annoying me.”
“How’s Sarah?” Raven asked.
Hazel ran her hand through her hair. She looked stressed and concerned. “About as you’d expect. She’s worried sick, she’s scared, and she’s angry.”
“Good,” Morgan said as she poured herself another drink. “She’s going to need all that energy to do what must be done.”
“What is that exactly?” Hazel asked. “Do we have some sort of contingency plan that addresses a hostage situation?”
Morgan smiled. “The plan is the same as it’s been all along. We’re going to send the axis of evil back to their time, I’m going to destroy Blaise, and then you can go back to your life.”
Raven put her hand on Hazel’s shoulder when she saw her shoulders collapse at Morgan’s words. “What about Sarah and Ayotunde?”
“Nothing has changed there either,” Morgan said. “They have to go back, too. Blaise isn’t going to hurt Ayotunde—at least I don’t think he will. He wants to use her against me. If, I mean when, she’s returned safely, she and Sarah will have to go.” Morgan was matter-of-fact, but she didn’t meet Raven’s eyes. “You two should get some rest; big day tomorrow. I’ll sit with Sarah.”
Raven opened her mouth to speak, but Morgan swiftly disappeared.
* * *
Hazel sat on the bed in her guest room. She was feeling more emotions than she ever had before. She was scared, worried, nervous, anxious, and overwhelmed. All of these feelings were wrapped up in different possibilities, outcomes, but mostly, people. Morgan’s words were sitting in her throat, a marble she couldn’t swallow. You can go back to your life. But what life? A life where she didn’t know her family history? A life where she only read about the possibility of the different realms? A life without Sarah? But mostly, a life without Raven. She’d told Raven she’d help her get away from Morgan. She’d told her about the Dare Stone, but they hadn’t spoken about it since. Raven hadn’t made it clear what she wanted, and that realization pushed down on her chest and squeezed.
“Are you okay?” Raven sat beside her, looking worried.
“I was just thinking about what Morgan said.” Hazel wanted to be honest, knowing this might be their last opportunity for an open dialogue. “I don’t know how I can go back to my old life, not now.”
Raven nodded in understanding. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be for you.”
Hazel took Raven’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “What about you? Have you decided what to do about the Dare Stone?”
Raven looked as if she was going to clam up for a moment, but she took a deep breath and shook her head. “What will Morgan do without me? Who will help defend the realms?”
Hazel squeezed her hand. “Honey, Morgan existed for thousands of years before you, and she’ll exist long after all of us are gone. What is it that you want?”
Raven freed her hand from Hazel’s. “I don’t know how to be anything but a shadowhunter. I’ve never been anything else.”
Hazel’s heart hurt from Raven’s physical retreat, but she tried to keep her perspective. “Could you still be her shadowhunter without the curse? You could still work for her and have the entirety of your soul back. It could be on your terms, then, not someone else’s.”
“I don’t know,” Raven said. “Morgan rarely does or agrees to anything that isn’t on her terms.”
Hazel took her hand again. “I can’t imagine you not being in my life. I know we’ve only known each other for a month, but with everything we’ve been through, it feels much longer.”
Raven didn’t pull away. “I don’t know if I can be what you need.”
Hazel cupped Raven’s face, wanting to make sure she saw the truth in her eyes. “You already are.”
Tears welled in Raven’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Can we just be together tonight and not worry about what may happen tomorrow? I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but it’s all I can manage.”
Hazel hugged her and pulled her down so they were lying next to one another. “Sure, we can stay like this for as long as you’d like.”
Hazel held Raven as closely as possible, listening to her breathing settle and enjoying the way it felt to be wrapped in her arms. She tried to push away the foreboding sense that this might be the only time she had left with Raven like this. She wanted to be wrong. She wanted to know that they’d have countless more nights together, an unlimited number of days. But wishing was for children, people who’d managed to remain unscathed by all the cruel reality life had to offer. Hazel wasn’t prone to childish dreams or the possibilities that hung somewhere between hope and love.
She let herself sink into Raven’s warm, solid body. She was going to give herself this, the night, the moment, whatever Raven could give her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The glass Lucien threw at Dirk broke into a thousand pieces at his feet. “How could you be so foolish?”
Dirk crossed his arms and pushed out his chest. “It wasn’t my idea to try to kill Harren before we disposed of the white witches; that’s on you.”
Lucien strode over and put his finger in his chest. “You have no idea what this is going to cost us.”
Dirk pushed him away. “This is your fuckup. It’s your fault they got away and your fault they got Tammi. What do we have to show for it, a slave?” He pointed at Ayotunde. “What the hell are we going to do with her?”
Lucien watched the small woman sitting in her cell, apparently deep in mediation. “Blaise has plans for her. He thinks we can use her to weaken their coven and lower Morgan’s defenses.”
Dirk threw his hands in the air. “He thinks? He thinks that will work? Perfect.” He put his hands on his hips. “And if it doesn’t? Then what? Sarah makes it back to 1692 and kills us before we even see it coming? Great plan, Dad.”
Lucien scratched at his stubbly chin in thought. “Sarah will try to go through the portal tomorrow night. We’ll have to get to her first.”
Dirk kicked the desk in the corner. “That hasn’t worked out all that well for us so far. No, I say we burn this whole damn town to the ground tonight. I’ll incite a riot. People will take to the streets. There will be destruction, looting; we’ll get her immersed in the chaos.”
“You will do no such thing.” Blaise’s voice boomed through the small room. “Get your dog to heel, Lucien, or I’ll do it for you.”
Dirk glared at Blaise, anger flaring in his eyes. His chest heaved up and down, and his hands started to shake. Lucien knew his son’s temper better than anyone. He knew it because he had watched it develop over time and even helped to hone certain aspects of it. He never wanted his son to be viewed as weak or helpless, descriptors that had been placed upon him through the years. He had taught Dirk to punch first, ask questions later, and he saw that fury now.
He wanted to push Dirk’s hand away when he saw him grab the blade from the table. He wanted to yell for him to stop, to think about what he was doing. He wanted to jump in front of him, urge him back. But he didn’t do any of those things; all he could do was watch as Dirk brandished the blade in Blaise’s direction. His arm swung like a pendulum to strike, and Lucien watched as his only son fell to nothing but dust on the ground.
Lucien’s legs gave out. He clawed at the dust that sifted through his fingers and clumped under his tears. He wanted to cry out in pain, but he had no air, no voice to express the injustice that racked his bones.
“Why?” he croaked.
“If you have to ask that, perhaps you deserve a similar fate to your useless offspring,” Blaise said. “Your son met his demise because of a rash decisi
on. Don’t make the same mistake.”
Lucien tried to stand, but the emotions were too overwhelming. He fell to the floor and continued to sob.
Blaise reached down and jerked him to his feet. “Now, get on Facebook and tell all his followers that Dirk has been killed by a black man. Tell them it was a random shooting in the street. Tell them you’re holding a vigil in his honor at Salem Common tomorrow night. There will be enough anger and hate there for me to defeat Morgan.”
“There’s no body for me to prove it to them,” Lucien said. “The police will investigate.”
Blaise smiled, his teeth yellowed like an old dog’s. “They won’t need to see a body to believe you, and they want to believe you. They want a reason to fuel their hatred, their fear, their anger. You’re going to give them something tangible. As far as the police are concerned, this will all be over long before we have to worry about them.”
* * *
Sarah stood in the corner of the living room, watching Tammi Lee glance around Hazel’s apartment with a judgmental sneer. Although she was beautiful to the eye—golden blond hair and smooth, rosy skin—inside, she was a ghoul. How could a young woman with so much promise, with so many opportunities before her, choose such a bitter path? But then what else could one expect from the offspring of the foul Samuel Cranwell?
“What?” Tammi spat.
Sarah napped out of her meditation. “Hmm?”
“What are you staring at?”
She approached Tammi and sat on the arm of the sofa. “’Tis a heart-wrenching sight, thou art.”
Tammi scoffed. “Please. I don’t need your pity.”
“’Tis not pity I offer. Resignation doth weigh heavy on my heart at the notion that a woman of such means could betray her sex in the manner in which thou hast.”
“Uh, in English, por favor .” Tammi shook her head in disgust.
“You were but a child in the early days of the new world. It were harsh, often hopeless times in which we toiled, but we believed in the promise of a better life, one in which we could live and worship freely once delivered from the oppression of our king.”
“And I should care about this…why?”
Sarah bristled at her lack of concern. “The question be not why you should care. The question is why do you not?”
Tammi rolled her eyes.
“Since I have arrived here in this century, I have not yet ceased to marvel at all of the incredible changes the subsequent generations have created. Women have now a part in governing; they have gained independence from the rule of their fathers and husbands; they are free to choose whatever path in life their heart desires. While motor carriages and flushing chamber pots yet inspire awe in me, there be nothing that fills my heart with inspiration more than to live in a time when the female sex doth have a voice.”
Tammi Lee struggled beneath Sarah’s control, her eyes gray with contempt when she spoke. “My podcast downloads just hit the ten thousand mark last week. I have a voice, lady, and people are listening to it.”
“Aye. Indeed they are. The prodigious crowds you and your father draw plainly show it. But think on what you use that voice for, child. Instead of empowering all people of this land with it, you use it to divide, to sow the seeds of strife and discontent among our modern-day brethren by casting judgment upon those who are different. You punish and demean those who follow their own paths just as the Church of England once did. You are no better than the oppressors our ancestors fled.”
“You fool. Don’t you see it? We’re trying to save this great nation. Our way of life is threatened not only from outside invaders but also from within, from nonbelievers who want to erase God from our country. I’m using my voice to help prevent the destruction of our traditional values. You must remember what tradition and values are, Sarah. Or has your time spent here with these dykes warped that perception, too?”
Sarah sighed at the lost soul looking up at her. “If violence and oppression of the weak and corruption of God be your plan, then you hast triumphed most brilliantly.” She shook her head and walked away.
“Sarah,” Tammi called.
Sarah stopped before entering the kitchen and turned to her.
“They’re not going to win.”
“Who?”
“Your niece, the shadowhunter, that bitch queen. Blaise and Lucien have Ayotunde. Your coven is broken. They can’t be defeated without her.”
Sarah swallowed hard against this new grim suggestion. Was Tammi Lee right? Were Hazel and Raven not being forthright with her about these new events?
Tammi Lee craned her neck to look around the corner. “It’s not too late, Sarah,” she said softly. “You can join our side. You can be with Ayotunde again and not have to go back to 1692.”
Sarah felt the shadow of trickery upon her. “How could it be that I shall not have to return? Madam le Fay be adamant about it.”
“Who cares what that dusty old French baguette thinks? The realms are shifting, Sarah. Blaise is going to return any day now and begin the dawn of a new era. You won’t have to go back because the old ways won’t matter anymore once Blaise’s reign comes to fruition.”
The temptation Sarah felt must’ve shown on her face.
“Sarah, wouldn’t you like to know you could be with Ayotunde forever here in the modern world?”
She held Tammi Lee’s firm gaze as she fought a sudden battle with temptation. She knew full well what Tammi was suggesting, that the corruption of God she so scorned could be used to give her the thing her heart most desired. Her soul ached with sadness at the thought of losing Ayotunde again and likely for good. But could she forsake God? Each day of her life had been dedicated to following His word and striving with herself to please Him as a pious and humble servant. Her faith had offered little guarantee of an afterlife in paradise no matter how she dedicated herself to God. Now it seemed Tammi Lee Sanderson was offering her a guarantee of being with the person she loved to the depths of her soul for the remainder of her time here on earth. It was no longer clear what mattered more: the hope of eternal salvation or a brief but certain interlude of pleasure with Ayotunde in the physical world.
“It sounds good, doesn’t it, Sarah? I can help you.”
“How am I to believe thou speakest the truth? Moreover, how shall I trust that Blaise, the lord of the dark realm, would grant me favor?”
“Because you and Ayotunde are the only ones who can send us back. If you just walk away from Morgan le Fay’s band of merry do-gooders, you and Ayotunde can go off somewhere like P-town or Key West or wherever the gays are doing their queer thing these days and live happily ever after.”
Sarah licked her dry lips in shame as she contemplated accepting Tammi Lee’s sinful offering. She got up and trudged to the window, trying to force down the desire to say “yes” as it lingered on her tongue. Her love for Ayotunde would surely be enough for her to live on…
“Hey, how about you release me from this couch potato spell, and we can talk more about it alone? My muscles are starting to atrophy.”
Sarah turned from the window and padded toward the couch, her arm slowly rising to give Tammi Lee a little room to move.
“Sarah,” Raven said, stunning Sarah out of her trance-like state. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Goody Raven. You startled me.”
“Why don’t you come with me, Sarah?” She nodded to indicate Tammi Lee. “This one needs a time-out to think about how naughty she’s been.”
Sarah allowed Raven to usher her out of the room with a firm but gentle hand on her lower back. As she walked down the hall to Hazel’s bedroom, she realized why Hazel had often looked at her with such adoration.
* * *
Raven escorted Sarah into Hazel’s bedroom for a strategy meeting about the candlelight vigil for Dirk Fowler that evening. He was dead, and Raven and Morgan anticipated the “vigil” turning into more of a riot than a memorial since it was reported that Dirk was killed by a black member of a ra
dical-left protest group. A rather transparently convenient story, Raven thought, but the more powerful Lucien had become, the less effort he needed to expend on logic when it came to his flock. They’d long ago bought into his name and his message and were fully indoctrinated.
When Morgan invited them to make themselves comfy, Raven sat next to Hazel on her bed, and Sarah chose an antique rocking chair in the corner.
“I don’t think I need to impress upon anyone how critical tonight is,” Morgan said. “Oh, before we begin, who’s got their eye on that ding-dong in the living room?”
Raven raised her hand. “I took care of it with zip ties.” She then glanced at Sarah. “Not that we don’t trust you, Sarah. It’s just that Ayotunde’s the one with the crack compelling skills.”
Sarah offered a grateful smile. “None taken, Goody Raven.”
“Okay, so now that Dirk is dead, I’ve been able to broker a deal with Lucien for a hostage exchange,” Morgan said. “The vigil is taking place not far from the portal at Proctor’s Ledge.”
Hazel raised her hand like an eager student. “Why would they choose that location? It’s the actual grounds where the witch hangings occurred.”
“Yes, it does seem strange they would allow themselves to get so close to the portal, but Blaise’s lair is below the hallowed ground. He can feed Lucien the most potent of powers from there.”
“It may sound like it’ll be a piece of cake for us,” Raven added. “But if the execution of our plan goes awry, Lucien could end up sending Sarah and Ayotunde through the portal and sealing it for good. Then Blaise’s coup will be complete, and the fate of humanity sealed.”
Hazel shook her head in confusion. “How would Lucien be able to accomplish that with Morgan there? He can’t overpower her.”
“Unfortunately, he can,” Morgan said. “Depending on how much energy this vigil-slash-riot stirs up, Blaise’s renaissance may happen tonight. And if that should happen, it will become a contest of two: me against him.”
“Good versus evil.” Sarah rose from the rocking chair. “Madame le Fay, once we retrieve Ayotunde, she and Raven and Hazel and I shall not permit that to happen. We are your coven and shall be your protectors.”
