by R. L. King
Stone glanced at Nessa. Her expression was troubled. She looked as if she might say something, then let out a long sigh and bowed her head. “It is as you say, my dear. Sacrifices must be made. Carry on.”
Stone took a chance. “Who’s in charge here, Grandmother? You or her?” He shifted his gaze contemptuously to Acantha. “Are you going to let her dictate terms? You promised me no one would be killed. Will you break your word?”
Before Nessa could respond, Acantha laughed. “She’s not going to break her word, Alastair. No one will be killed. There’s no need for that.” She held up the hypo. “While we had you unconscious, we took some of your blood, which allowed us to create several alchemical concoctions customized specifically for you. The magic damper was only one of those. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use this one—that you’d see reason and perform your duty as required—but it appears that’s not to be.”
Stone and Verity both stared at the hypo. “What is that?” Verity asked in a shaky voice. “What are you gonna do to him?”
“Simply make sure that he does what he needs to do.” She took a step back, removing her hands from the sculpture. The green glow around her didn’t fade. “This is your last chance, Alastair. I’m quite serious that we’d prefer the act be voluntary.”
“Doc—” Verity said, her voice still trembling. “Just—just do it. Don’t let her hurt you. It’s okay. You can—”
“No,” he said, and the word echoed through the cavern. “No, Verity. I won’t do it. Even if you truly allow it, I won’t be part of murder.”
“Murder?”
Stone realized she had been too disoriented to hear everything when they’d first brought her in, and apparently they hadn’t told her the whole story. “They want us to conceive a male child so they can kill him. Use him for a sacrifice. Just like they tried to do with me, many years ago.”
“What?” she demanded. She twisted around to glare at Acantha as if she’d never seen her before. “What the hell—?”
“No more talk,” Acantha said. She turned back to Stone. “As I said—this is your last chance, brother.” She raised the hypo again. “This will take the choice from you. It will amplify your desire to the point where you won’t be able to resist. You will do what’s expected of you.”
“No!” Stone yelled, horrified as the implications of her words sunk in. He looked at Verity, who was watching him in fear, trying to shrink away as much as she could while chained to the table. Tears glittered in the corners of her eyes.
“Just—do it, Doc,” she said. “Don’t make them force you. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. We’ll have time.” Her voice still shook, but her eyes hardened with resolve.
Stone bowed his head for several moments, trying to find an answer. Verity was counting on him to find an answer. But nothing came to him. Either he would commit this horrific act voluntarily—and possibly buy them some time, since clearly the sacrifice couldn’t be soon if they had to wait for the baby to be born—or have the decision taken out of his hands. The image of Verity’s terrified expression as the women’s sinister drugs made him take her by force was nearly more than he could bear. He wished he could simply will his own death, scatter himself to the winds before he’d have to do something he’d regret for the rest of his life.
There was no more time. He’d have to make his choice now.
At last he opened his eyes. He looked back up at Acantha, eyes blazing with hatred. “Let me loose,” he growled, his tone full of shame and resignation. “I can’t do anything if I can’t move.”
“That’s better,” she said, satisfied. “But no tricks. You can’t escape this circle. You’ve nowhere to go, and without your magic there’s nothing you can do. Other than what’s expected, of course.” She nodded toward Verity, then made a gesture at Stone.
The manacles dropped off, and the immobilizing spell lifted. Stone took a staggering step backward and nearly fell before he caught himself. His breath came fast, his heart pounding. Think. There’s got to be something you can do! He tried his magic again, but no luck. Even if he wasn’t burned out from using Harrison’s power, that last shot they’d given him had been too recent—no hope it could have worn off yet.
Acantha put her hands back on the sculpture. “Go on,” she told Stone.
Around the circle, the women continued chanting.
Outside it, Nessa Lennox watched silently, her hands gripping the knob of her cane, her expression unreadable.
“Just…do it, Alastair,” Verity whispered. “It’s okay. I love you. We’ll make this work.”
Stone stood at the foot of the platform where she lay and his gaze met hers. Her eyes still glittered, but she looked calm now. Accepting. If it had to be done, she wanted it to be his choice.
Still he stood, unmoving, his hands at his sides.
As much as he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t make himself do it. He wasn’t even sure he physically could do it. It was as if the women had renewed the immobilization spell on him—but they hadn’t. This was all on him. His body refused to respond. Guilt settled around him like a heavy blanket, rooting him to the ground. This was all his fault—he’d been the one to encourage Verity to come here. He’d approved her study with them—hell, he’d encouraged it. He’d led her into this untenable situation, and now the only way out was to commit an unspeakable act—to force himself on a woman who trusted him with her life. Even despite her words, he knew that was what it was: force. Despite her brave words, it didn’t take magic for him to see she didn’t want this any more than he did. Not this way.
Not this way…
“I…can’t…” he whispered. “I can’t do it.”
Acantha’s face hardened. She picked the hypo and vial up from where she’d left them on the edge of the bench, and drew bright red liquid into the hypo. “You will do it. Do you want her to see you lose control? I promise you—it won’t be a pretty sight. You’ll become little more than an animal, surrendering to animal instincts. You might even injure her in your ardor. Is that how you want it to be?”
“Doc—” Verity pleaded. “Don’t—please don’t let her…Just do it. If she made you do that, it would destroy you.”
“She’s wise, brother,” Acantha said. “I’m quite serious this time—this is your last chance.”
He hesitated a moment longer, teeth gritted, breath coming out in harsh hisses. Once again he tried his magic even though he knew it was useless.
Suddenly, his rage bloomed again as he replayed Verity’s words.
It would destroy you.
Not It would destroy me. Even in the middle of this monstrous situation, Verity was thinking of how it would affect him. She knew the truth: she was strong. Stronger than he was. She’d recover, but he might not. He clenched his fists at his sides and took a step back. “No,” he said. “I will not do it!”
Rage mirroring Stone’s own darkened Acantha’s face, and something dangerous and unhinged flowered in her eyes. “You. Will!” she screamed. She raised her hand and jerked it back, using magic to yank Stone violently toward her. With her other hand, she raised the hypo and plunged it toward his arm.
Time slowed. Thoughts flashed through Stone’s mind at lightning velocity as the needle approached, fueled by his growing wrath at this woman. Her face—his face, rendered in feminine form—became the focal point of everything this depraved group of women had taken from him.
They’d brought him into being for no other purpose than to die in service to their corrupt ends.
They’d killed his father.
They’d nearly killed Aubrey.
They’d killed his master.
They’d kidnapped him, held him prisoner, dosed him with alchemical drugs, taken his magic.
They wanted him to rape his own apprentice—to force her to bring a child into the world to repeat their mad cycle all over ag
ain.
No. He would not!
But what could he do? He was powerless. He’d already used his only secret weapon, and now it was gone. He had no magic. He would gladly have killed himself to save Verity and their potential child from this, but he couldn’t even do that.
Suddenly, with frightening clarity, an image flashed across his mind’s eye. A dark-haired, gray-eyed man, with his same sharp features and intense gaze.
Dad?
The gaze wasn’t just intense—it was accusing. Do something, it seemed to say.
And then, just as suddenly, he knew what he had to do.
He didn’t know if it would work. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that he couldn’t allow himself to submit without trying every option available to him.
With a roar, he didn’t flinch back from Acantha, but threw himself forward to meet her, getting inside her reach so she couldn’t plunge the needle into him. He had only an instant to act before she or one of the other women immobilized him again.
He clamped his hand on Acantha’s shoulder. “NO!” he screamed, so loud it echoed up into the rocky ceiling high above.
If this didn’t work, he’d be lost. Everything would be lost.
He unleashed the rage, and he pulled.
Acantha screamed, even louder than he did, so loud he thought the sound of it would take his head off. But still he held on. And still he focused his mind and pulled.
At first he found resistance. At first he feared it wouldn’t work.
And then he realized why it wasn’t working.
It was because he had to commit all the way. There was no turning back.
He didn’t hesitate.
His scream once again joined his sister’s as the power poured into him, flooding his nerves with the most exquisite sensation of ecstasy he’d ever felt. It wasn’t like Harrison’s magic—using that made his nerves sing with pleasure but it also lit them up with agony, like plunging his hand into a stream made up of boiling and freezing water at the same time. This was different—this was a pure, unfettered rush of power that engulfed his body and filled him to overflowing.
Acantha’s scream tailed off and then abruptly ceased. Her body seemed to fall in on itself. The red robe fluttered to the ground, and the hypo shattered next to it.
Stone stood for a moment, reveling in the sensation. He felt like he could do anything. The exhaustion, the cotton-headed feeling, the despair and desperation—all gone now, replaced by a sense of profound exhilaration, confidence, and—
—and rage.
The power hadn’t burned that off.
Not in the slightest.
He thrust his hand at the green sculpture and released some of the power. The beam shot out, lighting up the area in harsh illumination like a camera flash left on too long.
The sculpture glowed brighter and brighter, and seemed to grow larger. Its wooden tentacles seemed to writhe. Somewhere in his head and deep inside his body, Stone felt something ancient and malevolent shriek in agony. Pain lit up his chest, radiating out to his limbs and his head.
Then the thing exploded in an even brighter flash of green-white light, and disappeared. The pain inside him vanished.
Stone flashed a fierce, manic grin through gritted teeth, sweeping his gaze around the room. “Who’s next?” he demanded. He pointed his hand at one of his two captors and let loose again. It felt so good to have the power singing through him, banishing pain and fatigue and doubt. The woman screamed and dropped to the ground, writhing.
Around the circle, several of the other women were breaking ranks and running, while others raised shields and tried to hit Stone with spells of their own.
“Bad choice!” he called, raising his own shield around himself and the bench where Verity lay. As if from a distance he thought he heard her calling to him, but he ignored it. These women had killed too many people he cared about. Their foul, unseen influence had hovered like a dark cloud over his entire life. Now they were going to pay for what they’d done.
Spells hit his shield and deflected, slamming into the walls. Stone laughed. “Not good enough, ladies! I’m going to bring this whole bloody place down around your ears, you just watch me!”
A few more of the women were running now, heading for the room’s two exits. Stone fired off a bolt of energy at one group, scattering them and dropping several. It felt good. It felt wonderful. He raised his other hand and formed a bright ball of light around it, then sent it streaking toward the ceiling so he could see the rest of the room. There was still one person here he was looking for—one person who’d been responsible for more of this than even his mad sister.
But he didn’t see her.
Had she somehow escaped, or was she hiding somewhere? He shifted to magical sight without even thinking about how it could be working again, and swept the room with his gaze, looking for anyone lurking invisibly.
Nothing.
“Nessa!” he screamed. “Grandmother! Show yourself, damn you, you pestilent old harpy, or I’ll kill every last one of your lackeys until I find you!”
“Alastair!”
This time, the voice did get through. He spun, wild-eyed, pulsing with the power ricocheting through his body. “What?”
Verity still lay on the bench, her hands still manacled. Her eyes were wild too, but not with rage or power-lust. She looked terrified, her gaze fixed on him. “Doc,” she pleaded. “Alastair. Don’t do this. Just—don’t. Don’t be like them. Please…”
“No,” he snarled. “They’ve got to pay.”
A couple more spells slammed into the shield and deflected. More of the desperate women were heading for the exits now, some dragging their fallen compatriots. Stone pointed at the wall above them and hit it with a blast that blew chunks of rock in all directions. The women screamed and shoved each other as they all tried to get through the small opening at once.
“Doc, you’ve got to stop this!” Verity yelled. “Please let me loose!”
Breathing hard, thrumming with the energy he’d barely begun to call on, he forced himself to turn his attention back to her. Using more care, he pointed his hand first at one manacle and then the other, blowing the chains apart. He marveled at how easy it was. No exhaustion, no nosebleeds, no strain. Just pure power.
Immediately Verity launched herself up and threw herself at him, her arms snaking around him and clamping tight as she buried her face in his shoulder. “Stop it…” she whispered. “Don’t do this. Don’t be like them. Let’s…let’s go.”
He sank to his knees, taking her down with him. “They killed my father,” he got out through clenched teeth. “They killed Desmond. They almost killed me. I need to—I need to—”
And just like that, something broke. The singing, triumphant sensation of brimming power ebbed away. The power was still there, but the desire to wield it, to destroy, to make these people suffer as he had suffered, was gone as if it had never been. “I…need to—”
“Shh…” she whispered, holding him. “It’s okay. We’re okay now. We just need to get out of here.”
He barely heard her. He sagged against her, trying to fight the rising tide of emotion he’d been holding back for all this time because he had no other choice. Now, with Acantha dead, Nessa departed, and the horrific object that had killed both his father and Desmond destroyed, no force on Earth could have stemmed that tide any longer. He clutched at Verity, his arms tightening around her until he felt her stiffen in pain—but even then he only loosened his grip a bit. He held her there in the middle of that ruined circle as if he expected her to fade away, and finally let the dam break.
“Shh…shh…” Verity held him close, stroking his hair as he sobbed. “It’s okay… everything’s okay now…” Her voice hitched with her own emotion.
No one came back. He had no idea how
long he remained there, his face buried in Verity’s shoulder, his arms around her like an anchor, letting the sobs rack him until he had no more in him. When he finally raised his head, he saw her scanning the area, watching the two exits.
Keeping guard even as she comforted him.
Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back from her. “I’m sorry…” he murmured. “I’m sorry…”
“Shh…” she said again. “You’re okay. Nobody’s coming.” She gently gripped his shoulder. “Come on. We should probably go, if you can…”
He nodded, dragging himself to his feet and swiping a hand across his face. He didn’t bother looking around the circle—he never wanted to see it again. For a fleeting moment he considered destroying it as they exited. Destroying the whole room, in fact. The whole bloody complex, if he could manage it. He still had the power to do it. It was still there, surging and flowing inside him. Instead he drew himself to his full height, straightened his robe, and indicated the doorway.
Verity walked silently alongside him until they’d almost reached it, then stopped and said softly, “Doc…?”
“Yes?”
She didn’t answer right away. When he turned to look at her, he found her regarding him with an odd, serious expression.
“What is it?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Doc…Your sister…”
“What about her?”
“You…you killed her.”
“Yes.” He kept his voice even.
“To save me.”
“Yes.”
“Because you wouldn’t…do what they wanted.”
“Yes.” He spoke almost robotically, and didn’t meet her gaze.
She paused a long time again. “You…ashed her.”
“Yes.” He glanced back at the untidy pile of deep red fabric on the floor in front of the stone bench. At all that was left of the twin sister he’d barely had the chance to know.
