by R. L. King
“No,” Acantha said. “Not until many years later, when I came of age. I was raised by Grandmother, who simply told me my mother had died. It wasn’t until I learned the truth about our inner circle that I was given the whole story. I wanted to meet you then—I was intrigued by the idea of a twin brother—but Grandmother convinced me it wouldn’t be wise. And over the years as I learned more, I grew to hate our father for taking Mother from me.”
Stone’s expression hardened as his rage once again grew. “You hated him for saving his son from being used as a ritual sacrifice? He’d have tried just as hard to save you, if he’d known about you. Especially if he’d known you were to be brainwashed into joining this—cult.” He nearly spat out the word.
“We’re not a cult,” Nessa said. “Everyone here is here because she wants to be—because she cares about advancing magical knowledge, and trying to do good in the world on a larger scale than she could do on her own. Many of us are here because, unfortunate as it is, the opportunities for women in much of the world of magic still lag behind those of men. I know you wouldn’t understand, but—”
“Oh, I understand,” Stone said, voice shaking with anger. “I understand that somehow you’ve rationalized the idea that it’s all right to murder a child every twenty years because you’ve convinced yourself it helps you do good—and that it will help you bring over this…thing you’ve been worshipping. But I’ll have no part of any of this. I don’t care what you’ve got set up, I’m not cooperating.”
Nessa smiled her pleasant smile. “I’m afraid you don’t have a lot of choice in the matter, my boy.” Leaning on her cane, she stood. “Now, come. We’ve taken too much time already. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can be on your way.”
Stone didn’t move. “I told you—I’m not cooperating. If you want something out of me, you’ll have to force me—or kill me.”
“We’ll see.” She nodded toward the two women, who grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. Then she turned with Acantha and the others and left the room through the far door.
Stone’s captors dragged him along behind them, using levitation to lift him a couple inches off the floor. He tried to resist, but with no magic and his hands cuffed behind his back, he had little opportunity.
They took him down a narrow stone hallway that widened as it went on. Up ahead, it opened out into a much larger space, but it wasn’t until the two women had pushed him through the doorway that he saw just how large it was. “Bloody hell…” he murmured.
He stood at the edge of an underground cavern, mostly round and perhaps fifty feet in diameter. The ceiling rose at least two stories up, disappearing into darkness. Painted on the walls were glowing sigils, symbols, and other magical images, interspersed with some kind of phosphorescent moss covering large sections. Along the walls, several silent, robed women sat on wooden benches. They’d been chatting among themselves, but when Stone entered they fell silent, their gazes fixing on him.
None of this was what captured his attention, however. That was reserved for the massive ritual circle in the center. Taking up more than half of the chamber’s floor space, it was an elaborate and beautiful construct surrounded by flickering candles on tall poles, glowing crystals, and intricately decorated ceramic pots containing lush, green plants. The circle itself, most of which looked permanently carved into the stone floor, was a thing of breathtaking, exquisite symmetry, pulsing with green light. This light wasn’t sickly, though, like the traces Stone had sensed before, but almost painfully lovely. Even without his magic, Stone couldn’t miss its feeling of strength and potential. It was as if the women had captured the very essence of life itself, and distilled it down to form their circle.
He dragged his gaze from the beauty of the circle to focus on what was in its center: a stone bench about six feet long and four feet wide, topped with a purple cushion. At the bench’s head was a pedestal similar to the one he’d seen at the center of the clearing outside, but this time instead of a globe, it contained a more familiar object.
Perched atop the pedestal was the unsettling wooden sculpture Stone had taken from Desmond’s warded vault.
It too glowed, but now, just as with the circle surrounding it, the green light was powerful, alluring, inviting.
Nessa Lennox and her group had already crossed to the other side of the room, and now she addressed the gathering at large, her voice carrying well despite the cavern’s dimensions. “I apologize for keeping you all waiting,” she said. “We had a…small setback, but everything is fine now.”
She nodded at Stone, and his two captors pushed him forward until he stood a few feet from the edge of the circle. “This is Alastair Stone, my grandson. Some of you might have met him before, when he visited us with his apprentice. As all of you are aware, he was to have a rather important role in our grand ritual many years ago, but that was not to be. However, I’m pleased that he will once again have an opportunity to aid us in our efforts.”
“Lying again, are you?” Stone called. “I thought you said you weren’t going to sacrifice me.”
Nessa didn’t appear bothered by the interruption. “I have not lied at all. Our sacrifice requires a child—an infant, not a grown man. And in any case, the time is not yet right for the ritual. It requires a great deal of preparation before it can be properly performed, and the confluence will not be at its closest point for several more months.”
She addressed the group. “As always, this is not something we enter into lightly, or gladly. All of us would prefer that the sacrifice not be necessary—but we all agree that the enlightenment we will receive when we finally succeed, and the good it will help us bring to the world at large, makes these few tragic losses justifiable.”
“We most certainly do not all agree about that,” Stone protested, shaking free of the women’s grasps. “Let’s get that straight right now.”
His captors quickly grabbed him and pulled him back, gripping his arms more tightly.
“My grandmother was speaking to those who are part of our circle,” Acantha said from behind Nessa. “I’m afraid your opinion doesn’t count, Alastair.”
“Then why the hell am I here? What do you want from me, if not to sacrifice me?”
Nessa smiled. “Before we can begin our ritual, we must identify and obtain our sacrifice. As our benefactor revealed to us, the most appropriate sacrifice is a male child with significant magical potential. That’s why we chose you in the first place, Alastair.”
“Yes, and—?”
“We had intended to search using our usual methods for a child with such potential. But when William Desmond passed away and you returned to England, Acantha here had a better idea.” She tilted her head at Stone. “You possess, by virtue of both your lineage and the treatments your mother was given when you were still in the womb, an impressive amount of magical talent. Also, given that you are the sixth in an unbroken line of male mages on your father’s side of the family, that proves your genes are…quite resilient, with regard to passing the potential for magic along to the next generation.”
Stone went still as the meaning of her words sunk in. “No…no…You can’t possibly think I—” He wrenched free of the women again. “Stay away from me. You’re all mad, and I will not be part of this!” He glared at Nessa, then Acantha. “You can’t be insane enough to think I’m going to father your sacrifice!” As the women approached him again, he backed off toward the wall. “You stay the hell away from me! All of you!”
Nessa and Acantha waited in silence along with the other women as Stone’s captors used magic to drag him back to them and hold him immobile between them. When Nessa spoke again, her voice was still calm.
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” she said. She indicated the circle. “We’ve set up a ritual here to maximize both the potential for fertility and for magical talent. All you have to do is—well, I’m sure you know
what to do, Alastair. You’ve got quite the reputation for it, or so I’ve heard. And after you’re finished, you’re free to go—once you’ve submitted to a magical oath agreeing never to come back here, perform any actions against us, or attempt to interfere with our activities in any way, of course. And naturally we will arrange to have the influence of our ritual object removed from you as well.”
Stone glared at her, fighting against the magic holding him still, full of shock and rage at what this horrible old woman expected him to do. “You want me to father a child so you can kill him? No. No. That is not going to happen. You’ll have to kill me first. I won’t do it!”
“That could be arranged if necessary,” Acantha said. “There are other ways to secure what we need.”
“Hush,” Nessa said, waving her off. “There will be no killing here. In order for the ritual to have the highest success, the act must be performed willingly—ideally between partners who have strong feelings for each other. Fortunately, that won’t be a problem.”
She raised a hand and an unseen door opened on the chamber’s left side. Three figures came through, two tall ones walking on either side of a third, smaller one. As they came forward, the circle’s light revealed that the third figure was clad in a simple brown robe similar to the one Stone wore. Whoever it was, they seemed disoriented.
And then the light touched the figure’s face, and Stone’s entire body went cold.
“No!” he screamed, pushing so hard against the constricting magic that he feared he might break something, but he didn’t care. “No! You’re not doing this! Leave her the hell alone!”
The robed, disoriented figure was Verity.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Stone watched in horror as the two women flanking Verity led her into the center of the circle, where they laid her down on the cushioned bench and secured her arms with manacles that snaked down to its base.
“I won’t do it!” he yelled again, and if he could have killed Nessa Lennox with nothing but the intensity of his glare, she would have been a smoking crater.
“Oh, you will,” Nessa said.
“I don’t see the problem,” Acantha added. “You’ve already done it last time you were here, and it’s clear the two of you are unusually compatible.”
“You—know about that?” Stone redirected his glare to his sister. “How—”
And then it clicked. “The wine. You did something to the wine at the dinner. To make us—” He was having an increasingly difficult time controlling his rage as it threatened to consume him. Now wasn’t the time—not while he couldn’t move.
“Oh, no,” Nessa said. “No one made you do anything. The wine was specifically formulated to test compatibility. If you and your apprentice didn’t have feelings for each other—if no sexual desire had been present in the first place—it would have done no more than give you a pleasant buzz, and perhaps a bit of a hangover. But clearly such desire is present. And since both of you possess significant magical talent, the coupling should be a successful one.”
“There isn’t going to be any coupling!” Stone yelled. He looked toward Verity, lying on the bench, her arms spread out at her sides. She appeared to be coming out of whatever had been disorienting her, and was looking around in confusion. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re all insane, and there’s no way you’re forcing me to participate in this travesty.”
On the bench, Verity raised her head a little. “What’s going on?” she demanded in a weak voice. “Where am I?”
“Verity!” Stone called.
She focused on him, blinking. “Doc…? What’s happening?” About that time, she clearly realized she was chained to the platform. She yanked at the manacles, bucking her body as she tried to pull free, and her voice pitched higher in fear. “Doc? What’s happening? Why am I chained up? Why can’t I use my magic?”
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Nessa called. “We simply gave you a little preparation to block your magic for a while, so you wouldn’t be tempted to cause trouble.”
Verity’s gaze snapped over to Nessa and then Acantha. “Madame Nessa? Ms. Canby?” She sounded confused, and turned her attention back to Stone. “Doc—what are you even doing here? Why are you dressed like that?”
“You should be honored, Verity,” Nessa said. “You wanted to study our mysteries—now you’ll have the opportunity to be a part of one of the most spectacular of them. You will be the catalyst for a new renaissance of knowledge and enlightenment.”
“Doc, what the hell is she talking about?” Verity looked scared, but also angry. “What are you doing here? Are you part of this?”
“No,” he rasped. “I’m not part of this. I’m a prisoner too—and there’s no way in hell I’m playing along with their plan.”
“What is their plan?” She tried to raise up more, but the chains prevented it. Her gaze tracked the circle, taking it in, and her eyes got big and fearful. “Oh, my God—this is a ritual circle! Are they using me as some kind of sacrifice?”
“No, no,” Nessa assured her. Leaning on her cane and walking slowly, she approached the edge of the circle. “No one is going to be sacrificed.”
“Not today, anyway,” Stone snapped. “Or do you plan to give her the whole story?”
Acantha shot him a cold look. “Quiet, Alastair. Perform your role, and both of you will be free to go.” She glanced at Verity. “Well, perhaps one of you later than the other by necessity, but ultimately it’s not either of you we need.”
“Doc, what is she talking about?” Verity demanded. “What role? What’s all this about being a catalyst for enlightenment? Has everybody gone crazy?”
Stone couldn’t even bow his head, still immobilized in the women’s spells. He closed his eyes. “Verity—”
“Enough,” Nessa said. “No more talk. Sisters—please take your places. We need to begin.”
As one, the women seated along the walls stood and moved to the circle, where they took up positions equidistant around it, interspersing themselves between the candles, crystals, and plants. Stone’s two captors remained where they were.
“Acantha, my dear?” Nessa nodded toward the center of the circle.
Acantha, moving with graceful precision, walked to the center of the circle and stood behind the glowing wooden sculpture. She put her hands on it and she too began to glow with same green light.
Nessa studied the arrangement. “Good, good. All is as it should be. Alastair, she is ready for you.”
Verity’s eyes grew even wider as she stared at Stone. “Ready for you? What does she mean?”
Acantha smiled. “You should be proud, Verity. You and Alastair are to be the parents of the child that will at last bring us to the enlightenment we’ve been seeking for hundreds of years.”
“What?” she demanded, struggling again to free herself. “Doc—?”
“No,” Stone said. “We won’t. Because apparently these two ladies fail at listening. Let me spell it out clearly for them: I’m not going to do it. You can’t force me.”
“Oh, don’t be so sure of that,” Acantha said. “There are always ways. But we’d prefer it be done willingly. If you refuse, then tell me why you’re of any use to us.” She nodded toward Verity. “Why she is of any use to us.”
“I told you before,” Stone growled, “if you hurt her in any way, I will kill you. Every last one of you.”
“Such bravado, from a man who can’t even move.” Contempt flashed across Acantha’s face. “Come, brother. You really have no options. I know you’re prepared to die, but are you prepared for Verity to die as well?”
“Brother?” Verity demanded.
“Acantha—” Nessa warned.
“No, Grandmother. This has to be done. We’ve waited too long to let it fail now. This is nothing he hasn’t already done before.” She pulled something from a hidden pocket in her red velvet rob
e.
Stone almost flinched, thinking it was a knife, but when she held it up he saw it was another hypo, along with a small vial. “But that shouldn’t be necessary. We have other, more effective ways to ensure your cooperation. As Grandmother said, we don’t want any killing today.”
Verity was looking back and forth between Stone in front of her and Acantha behind her, fear and anger growing on her face. “Wait a minute. You said we’d be the parents of a child? You—you want him to—”
“We want him to perform the duty he was born to perform,” Acantha said. “Our father prevented him from fulfilling his original purpose last time, but this time he can make himself useful in another way.” She waved her hand, and Stone lifted off the ground and floated into the circle. She lowered him at the foot of Verity’s bench.
As hard as he tried to struggle free of the immobilizing magic, Stone couldn’t do it. His rage grew, his heartbeat increasing until it pounded in his head so hard he could barely see.
Across the circle, Acantha glowed with the mad green light of the bizarre sculpture—it gave her blue eyes, so similar to his own, a manic aspect. She continued gripping the sculpture, its light dancing around her hands.
Was that thing pulsing?
Verity’s terrified gaze was fixed on Stone, pleading with him to do something.
Outside the circle, the women around it began a low chant. The green energy began to creep out from the sculpture, filling in the lines of the circle. When it reached the edge, it flowed around the perimeter, outlining each of the women as well as the plants.
“Now, then,” Acantha said, her face hard. “No more argument. Everything has been prepared for this moment. You will do this voluntarily, or you won’t like the consequences.”
“Acantha—” Nessa called again. “There is no need to—”
“I’m sorry, Grandmother.” Acantha didn’t even turn to look at her; her attention was still locked on Stone. “Too many times we’ve failed because someone has been afraid to do what’s necessary. Do you want to fail again? Do you want to have to wait another twenty years, and hope everything comes together? It’s been too long, and this opportunity is too perfect to let it slip away.”
