by Petra Landon
“When a Chosen touches the Stone, is the magic drained away gone for good?” Tasia asked Duncan. She’d noted that he was very knowledgeable about the Chosen and the different hues of magic that flowed through their veins.
“Only death can drain all magic from a Chosen. Our magic is intrinsic to us. It can only be temporarily removed before it regenerates again. How long it takes to build up again depends on the individual to some extent. It also depends on how much of it was depleted in the first place. And in this case, that would depend on how long the person was in contact with the Stone.”
“Let’s assume that she spent half of her time in the chamber in contact with the Stone. Is there any way to estimate how much of her magic would’ve regenerated if she were alive today?” Hawk asked curiously.
Alive! But … she’s been dead for years. I thought Lady Bethesda was killed in the explosion that took out ten Guardians with her.
“There’s no way to be sure, Hawk” it was Raoul who answered this time. “Magic is individual to each Chosen. There is no way to know how a particular Chosen will react to touching the Stone or its repercussions. In broad strokes, yes, but not the small details like these.”
Duncan nodded his head, silently seconding Raoul’s words.
“Does an artifact exist to reverse the effect of the Scepter?” Hawk inquired. “To transfer magic stored in an inanimate object back to the person it originated from.”
“Oh yes” Duncan responded confidently. “More than one relic could do the trick.”
“Are these relics also stored in The Vault?” Hawk persisted.
“Some are; others are in the hands of individual owners.”
“Individual owners?”
“Ancients or other Chosen that they’ve belonged to for centuries. Some refused to give up their relics into wizard custody and were allowed to keep them unless they were extremely dangerous. This kind of magic is considered less potentially destructive than the kind that Sinotar’s Scepter allows.”
“Aah.”
There was a short silence.
Duncan glanced at Raoul with a speaking look. If the Lady was indeed alive, she would eventually seek an artifact to reverse the effect of the Scepter when she was ready to reveal her presence again. If she hadn’t done so already! The wizards guarding The Vault and other private owners should be made aware of this.
Raoul responded to his friend’s glance with a short sharp nod. He knew what he had to do.
“Alright, I will let Faoladh know of our suspicions. He can make the decision whether he wants to act on this theory of ours” Raoul had made his decision. He would also inform the powerful Shifter of their suspicions that the Lady had been planning to disappear much before her encounter with the Guardians in Chicago. Coupled with her unlikely alliance with the Lombardi leeches, it might give Faoladh a fresh perspective to aid in tracking her down.
To prevent Faoladh’s suspicions falling on Tasia, Raoul had decided to present their premise to him as a theory. One backed up by circumstantial evidence like the break-in to that particular chamber, the Lady leaving behind all the powerful relics stored in there, her presence in there for a half hour and her sudden frailty on her way out. It would be a tricky line to walk but he’d talk it out with Duncan to ensure no suspicious loose ends existed before he presented this theory to Faoladh. The witchling deserved to have her name kept out of this. He’d known that when he had asked for her assistance with The Vault. Raoul wasn’t going to chance raising Faoladh’s suspicions about her.
When the meeting concluded, Tasia made her way hesitantly towards the Alpha who watched her approach him with hooded eyes. In the background, she could hear Hawk and Duncan’s low voiced discussion regarding their were-pack.
“I wanted to thank you for the meal” she said.
A tawny eyebrow arched up in inquiry.
“You asked Fernando to get me some food in New York … on the flight … on our way back” she explained a tad incoherently.
The Alpha seemed to understand what she was attempting to say.
“You’re welcome. You did me a favor that night by accompanying us. We’d never have gotten this far without you” he said evenly, the gold eyes steady on her.
Tasia, a tad flustered by his unexpected candor, rushed into speech.
“Let’s call it even, Alpha. You did me a favor that night when you came for me at the vampire’s nest.”
“The Pack came for you” he corrected her. “I happened to be along for the ride.”
“Yes” she agreed candidly. “But I’m starting to understand Pack dynamics. The Pack does nothing without their Alpha’s approval. If you commanded them to stop breathing tomorrow, they’d attempt to comply with your command to the best of their ability.”
A gleam of something akin to amusement glowed in the gold eyes at her observation although the Alpha said nothing as he gazed back at her.
“Your stay at the Lair is turning out to be quite an education” he remarked.
Tasia agreed with him silently. Her father had aspired to give her what he called a well-rounded education. This was especially true when it came to Chosen matters for he had rightly realized that she’d have to circumspect that world very carefully in one way or another all her life. Yet even his teachings had ill-prepared her for this temporary alliance with the Shifters. They were more aggressive, paranoid, violent and unpredictable than she had assumed; or perhaps her being a different kind of Chosen made her view them through a different lens. Although this Pack had also surprised her by being less traditional in some ways – there was less emphasis on adherence to the complicated archaic mores that the Shifters had followed for centuries. That could, of course, have something to do with the Alpha they followed; an Alpha, who controlled the reins of his Pack with utter ruthlessness and brutal power.
Sara was the most normal person she’d met here. That both Duncan and Hawk thought that Sara didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the Pack spoke volumes on the life they led. Hawk was an easy-going and uncomplicated companion although Tasia suspected that it was because Hawk chose to show that side of himself to her. She was sure that the Pack saw a very different Hawk. Tasia was slowly beginning to understand Shifter dynamics in a Pack. She doubted that any Shifter of Hawk’s age who’d risen to the rank of Second in a were-pack of the powerful Northern California Pack was a shrinking violet of any stripe!
The Alpha’s eyes touched briefly on the slim wrist visible through the short sleeve of Tasia’s tee. He’d observed on the airplane that she was finally free of the bandage where the leech had sunk his teeth into her, almost killing her in the process.
“You are healed then” he remarked, his eyes on her wrist.
She nodded mutely.
“No side-effects from that night?” he asked, a strange note in his voice that Tasia failed to pick up.
“No.”
“Any speculation on how the leech that did that to you died?” he inquired softly.
“No” Tasia replied firmly though her heartbeat speeded up at the softly voiced question.
Please please, let him not scratch at that particular scab!
A short silence reigned between them.
“A Chosen whose magic is shackled is one without an identity” he quoted her. “Is that what you believe, witchling?”
Tasia nodded mutely. She’d spent most of her life fighting to restrain her magic - her fear of the consequences had compelled her to keep a tight leash on her power.
“Is that what you believe I’ve done to you?” the Alpha asked again, his voice very soft as his gaze stayed steady on her.
This is about his demand that I not use my power while under Pack protection.
“No” she shook her head. “I understand why you asked that of me. I’ve known all my life that I’m not like other Chosen. Unlike the others, it is dangerous for me to use my magic.”
She paused, searching for the right words to articulate her thoughts on the matter.
“However, I can certainly appreciate how someone with power who intends to fly under the radar might choose to get rid of it lest it provide too much temptation and play a role in revealing her presence to the very people that she hides from” she concluded.
“Hits very close to home for you, hmm?” he said quietly.
“A little” she acknowledged candidly. “I suspect that it wasn’t an easy decision for a powerful Guardian like Lady Bethesda to make.”
He arched his eyebrows up in inquiry although Tasia had a feeling that he did comprehend what she meant.
“Once you’ve tasted great power, it is hard to walk away from it” she said succinctly.
Surprise flashed in the gold eyes.
“Touché, witchling” he murmured, his tone and expression reflecting amusement.
Tasia, who hadn’t realized how her words would sound to an Alpha Protector like him, rushed into further speech to draw his attention away from that particular train of thought.
“I meant Lady Bethesda” she stammered, a tad flustered. “By all accounts, she was a powerful Magick.”
In response, the Alpha contemplated her, as if puzzled by her.
“My father made sure to familiarize me with wizard history” she explained quietly. “Twenty-five years ago, Lady Bethesda was one of the contenders to be the first wizard representative on the CoC. That doesn’t happen unless you’ve a lot of power and the respect of other powerful wizards.”
“No” he agreed. Raoul was surprised by her words. No one had mentioned this particular tidbit to him. So, Lady Bethesda had been a contender for First Wizard before going walkabout!
“Why do you think a ten strong Guardian contingent was sent in to capture her?” Raoul asked after a brief pause. He wasn’t as well versed with wizard history as the little witchling. By choice, in his case! When he had walked away from that part of his heritage, he’d opted to not keep himself abreast of any of their internal affairs or politics. Like most Chosen, he knew about the Chicago tragedy especially since it had resulted in such a horrific outcome. Also, like most Chosen, he had been unaware of the real story behind the tale though. For the first time, Raoul found himself wondering what the wizards had made of the entire affair. And so, he asked the wizard most likely to give him an answer.
Tasia studied the Alpha, taken aback by his blunt query. He had never evinced any interest in wizard affairs before today. And she knew for a fact that he didn’t trust her kind. Not that it meant much since she rather doubted the Alpha Protector trusted more than a handful of people in the world, if that!
“Like the other Chosen factions, there was a lot of infighting within the wizard community immediately following the creation of the Council of Chosen” she said slowly. “There were those that believed that wizards should govern themselves and not have to listen to the diktats of the CoC. There were also those that believed that their candidate for First Wizard had been overlooked for a weaker one to make it more palatable for the other representatives on the CoC, not the wizards that she was meant to represent. The wizards were not a united people. They were divided into cliques with each group believing that their vision for the future of wizards was the best way. The First Wizard was elected in this very charged atmosphere. A few months later, allegations were laid against Lady Bethesda. The First Wizard attempted other ways of diffusing the situation. Nothing worked. Eventually Lady Bethesda was summoned to Wizard Headquarters to answer to charges of undermining the new First Wizard. As I understand it, her substantial power forced the authorities to send a heavy Guardian force to bring her in to answer the charges against her when she ignored the summons. There was an explosion and everyone perished – civilians, Guardians and Lady Bethesda.”
The Alpha contemplated her silently. She had surprised him by answering his questions candidly, even the ones pertaining to what she had every right to believe was wizard business. In addition, this had been their longest and least adversarial conversation to date. And Raoul was slowly coming to the conclusion that there was more to her than what met the eye - a naive and young wizard with great power forced to hide from other Chosen by her circumstances. In her own way, she understood what drove their brethren. Her contributions to their recent mission in NYC hadn’t escaped his notice either. Not only had she utilized her special ability under the watchful gazes of two Guardians but she had also provided a fresh and different perspective in their investigation of the break-in. She seemed to have a knack for this kind of work, he mused thoughtfully.
The witchling had come through for him – despite her reservations about the Guardians watching over her shoulder. Without her help, they’d have nothing for Faoladh. She deserved to know why they pursued this matter. Why he had asked for her assistance despite the risk and the inconvenience to her. She had earned the right, he decided.
“The allegation against Lady Bethesda was murder” he said abruptly.
His blunt words dumbfounded Tasia. Not only because the allegation, especially against a well-regarded Guardian, was so serious but also because the Alpha had chosen to share it with her.
“Murder” she whispered, aghast by the allegation.
“Yes” he responded, the steady gaze taking in her appalled expression. “In plural. And that of Chosen children.”
“Children” she repeated, staggered by the allegations. Murder was serious enough. Killing children! And Chosen children at that! Goodness, children among the Chosen were such a rarity that even endangering one was considered a very serious crime by all Chosen across the board. This was one of the few things that united all Magicks.
“You’re trying to trace her movements from around the time before she died” she whispered, her brain finally putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. Tasia had thought it odd for the Shifters and this particular Alpha to be so engaged in ferreting out old wizard history.
“Yes” he acknowledged. “Your First Wizard has asked Faoladh for help to investigate this matter. She believes that Lady Bethesda still has wizard sympathizers who never believed the allegations against her and that they might attempt to stymie any investigation now.”
“Why now? Why start an investigation after twenty-four years!”
“Because there’s a chance that she might still be alive” he said bluntly.
Chapter 9
The wizards start a witch hunt
“There’s a man out front asking for you, Sienna” Emma informed her, her pretty eyes bright with curiosity. “He’s really hot!”
Sienna McAlister looked up from wrestling with the book-keeping software on the computer to note the palpable excitement in her assistant and sole employee. Emma, a native of this small coastal town in Oregon, had proved to be an exemplary employee – reliable, efficient and hard working. So exemplary that sometimes it was easy to forget how young Emma was.
“Is he?” she smiled back at the enthusiastic young woman. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, Emma. I better get the books in order before I leave you with the rest.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sienna. You go take care of your family. If something urgent comes up, I’ll deal with it. You’ll be just a phone call away anyway.”
“Yes” Sienna responded softly, a surge of affection welling up in her for her young assistant. “Thanks again for offering to hold down the fort while I’m away.”
“You’re very welcome” Emma threw her a bright smile on her way out the door of the small backroom that housed the supplies and office of ‘Sienna’s Souvenirs’.
Dazzled by the untamed beauty of the Oregon coast, Sienna had fallen in love with the quaint coastal town of Florence on a road trip through the state. She’d been on a quest for a place to put down some roots and this small coastal town brimming with tourists in summer had seemed like a good place to make a start. She’d started Sienna’s Spa offering aromatherapy and hot stone massages to tourists and locals alike. That first business had been run from a room rented from a local Bed and Breakfast.
Business had been slow at first – spa facilities were not an essential service in this small town with a matching population except in the summer months when the tourists added to the local population. Every spare moment had been spent in exploring the beauty of the state where sunny days were in short supply but the lush beauty of plentiful flora encouraged by the frequent rain was ever present. Eventually the seed of an idea had taken root in her, borne of her interactions and engagements with local artists on her various travels around the state. Sienna’s Souvenirs, a store selling artifacts and products from local artists and artisans, had been established. A little over four years since Sienna had first settled here, it finally felt like home. Sienna’s Spa had been discontinued as this business had expanded. A year ago, she had hired Emma to help with the shop.
Sienna saved the software and shut down the computer before making her way out to the front of the shop. The man, she guessed, was the Guardian sent here by the First Wizard to escort her to San Diego. Two days ago, she’d received a cryptic telephone call from the First Wizard. From what Sienna could gather, some new information about her mother had come to light and her presence was required at Wizard Headquarters. Sienna, who’d made the decision to leave behind that world five years ago, had sighed silently. In the end, the sole reason she had agreed to the trip was because of the person making the request. She had been asked to stay put until a Guardian was dispatched to escort her. Something to do with her being in need of a bodyguard. Sienna had shaken her head in silent amusement mixed with affection for Lady Esmeralda. Trust the wizards to never tire of unnecessary drama, she’d thought. The past few days had been spent in clearing up her schedule and making arrangements for Emma to handle the store in her absence.
