"The metal told you?" Aerin paused and thought about it for a second. "Really? That's badass, but come on, the Iron Age? Do you know how much the crown would be worth if it's really from that long ago? Not to mention, how the hell did it get to North America?"
"I know it came from the time period of the Druids," Tierra said.
"You're saying Malcolm de Moray was a relative and the last King of the Druids," Aerin pressed. "How is that possible? Besides, if it were even true, there is no way to know that we can trust him. Or that he has anything to do with this. We can't even be certain of the things we see inside the stones until we know for certain who or what they come from."
"I didn't imagine any of this. I know it, and our mother told me."
"Yeah, well..."
"You were there that night, Aerin, you saw her, too," Claire said. "Why don't you think the relics are from the Druids?"
"Because it doesn't make sense that those things would be given to Tierra from a Druid who lived over a thousand years ago. How did they get here?"
"There's an awful lot of folk tales and such about Standing Stones," Moira said. "Many believe they are portals."
"To another place?" Claire gasped.
"Possibly to another time," Tierra said gravely. "Malcolm de Moray's name and image is in the Grimoire, so are pictures of the crown and staff. I can't remember exactly what was written, and I know this sounds crazy, but until this mess is over, crazy is where we're setting up camp. When I touched the wand, I saw the staff that Malcolm had whittled into four wands. This one is mine. There are three others out there and they are yours. We have to find them."
"Well, hot damn." Moira sat back in amazement. "I sure wouldn't mind having one of those. What's it do? And why do you get the crown?"
"I have no idea what the wand does yet, but the crown is mine."
"If it's an inheritance," Moira said, "technically it would belong to all of us."
"The crown belongs to the next earth Druid, and I think that's me. The second I put the crown on, I could talk to the beasts of the forest. Something powerful earth witches have been reported to do, but I hadn't until now. I don't believe it's a source of power, more of a tool for knowledge."
"Let me see that." Moira picked up the crown and put it on. She waited a few heartbeats. "Yeah, I got nothing. Damn, that's heavy." She handed it to Aerin. "Here, you try it."
Aerin tried it on, shrugged when nothing happened, and gave it to Claire who shook her head. "Golden antlers really aren't my thing. I believe its Tierra's. I seem to recall pictures of a Mother Earth, and she was all decked out in garb like this."
"Wasn't that a shampoo commercial a long time ago?" Aerin asked.
"They had to get the image from somewhere," Claire said. "It would make sense that this thing belongs to Tierra. But I sure as hell want my own wand."
"Me, too. So how do we find them?" Aerin asked, considering.
"We need to hit the book and see what Grim has to say about them and the crown and our long lost relative Malcolm de Moray," Claire said.
"Great place to start." Tierra finished off the bag of pork rinds, and wondered if there was any bacon. "There is one other thing," Tierra said before everyone went their separate ways. "Aerin, we need to find you another wardrobe. Since the Horsemen are gunning for you, it would be best to leave your tailored clothes and designer heels in the closet."
"I've paid good money for my clothes. There isn't anywhere here in town open for shopping as Nick has bought up most of the businesses."
"There are clothes in the attic," Tierra said.
"You want me to wear hand-me-downs?" Aerin's thunderous look could have rolled trailer houses.
"Tierra's right. Though, them high heels did come in mighty handy fighting off that zombie the other day," Moira said. "You might as well have a target painted on your back with those fancy duds you wear. You're welcome to anything of mine."
"Mine, too," Claire offered. "And I agree with the others. Every one of those horsemen will know which witch is which with you dressed like a Park Avenue socialite. But you mix it up and we'll confuse the hell out of them. Or they'll think you flew off somewhere. Either way, you'll be safer."
"If my only choices are gypsy hand-me-downs, biker chick, or Dukes of Hazzard, I think I'd rather be a nudist," Aerin griped.
"Come on. You know it'd be fun messin' with those four assholes. They've got it coming in a big way," Moira said. "If they can't tell us apart, their plans are as good as shot to shit."
"Agreed. You'll have to let your hair down, too," Tierra commented, enjoying Aerin's surly mood. Aerin was always so polished, not a strand out of place. It was time she came down from her lofty perch in the clouds and saw how the other...well, three-fourths lived.
"Someone is going to pay for this," Aerin muttered.
Chapter Nine
"How'd it go?" Bane asked Julian. The man looked paler, more tortured than normal.
"As well as one might expect," Julian answered. The expression on his face spoke of indifference, but Bane felt the misery emitting from him. Out of all the Horsemen, Julian's cross was the hardest to bear because he had compassion for the innocents he infected.
Bane had learned long ago to ignore the pleas of the dead. There wasn't anything he could do to save them. Lives were many times forfeited without right or reason, and he was only the transporter. The only life he hadn't taken was Tierra's by refusing to take her soul and that of their unborn child, giving her sisters precious time to heal her. His refusal to transport their souls would not have saved them from dying, but would have left them to languish as spirits with no destination. A worse sin in his experience, but a risk he'd been willing to take in order to save them. A completely selfish decision on his part, if he were to be perfectly honest.
"We expected you back much sooner than this." Bane filled a tumbler with tequila and was surprised when Julian asked him to pour another. There had only been a few times he'd seen Julian drink something stronger than wine. He hadn't wanted to see it again.
"Want to talk about it?" Bane handed him the glass of Patrón and settled into the chair adjacent to Julian's. His cravat was absent, his normally impeccable suit smudged and wrinkled, and Bane thought he noticed a tear in the fabric near the hem.
Dru and Nick entered the library before Julian could unload. He drank instead. "Gods, this is nasty poison. It tastes like dirt." He shuddered.
"Why isn't he nursing the grape juice?" Nick asked. "Did things go to shit in Africa?"
"I guess that all depends on your perspective." Julian got up from his chair and struggled out of his jacket, tossing it aside as though he didn't care. Bane shared a look with Nick and Dru when Julian reached into the cabinet for the bourbon. He held up the bottle—The Devil's Cut—and scoffed. "Seems appropriate, don't you think?" He grabbed a fresh glass, gathered the bottle, and fell into his chair.
"What the hell happened?" Dru asked.
"First, I have a question I want answered," Julian said. "One that I have been laboring with since this whole business began. Why are we doing this?"
Nick was the first to speak, "We took an oath—"
"And where is this deity who accepted our pledge, our obedience?" Julian interrupted. "Has anyone seen her in a thousand years, two thousand? We have been forsaken by the Goddess, seduced by the Devil, and in my case cursed. "
"What is this, a pity party?" Dru asked.
Slowly Julian filled his glass with bourbon. He didn't answer until he'd drained it. "You haven't seen the suffering I have, been responsible for wiping out countless innocents. I don't want to do this anymore."
"So you're what, tucking tail? Quitting?" Nick asked. "Yielding to the wishes of that witch because you don't have the balls to kill her? This is your calling, our mission. It's not something you get to choose to set it aside when it gets tough."
Julian leapt out of his chair, the glass hitting and shattering on the hard wood. He grabbed Nick by the throat and
slammed him against the wall. "Tough? You think where I have been, what I have been doing was tough? It was horrendous, unspeakable. Inhumane."
Nick eyes went to deadly slits. "You want a fight, I'll fucking give you one."
"You aren't human, Julian," Dru said. "None of us are. We're immortals, chosen by the Goddess to bring about the Apocalypse. It's our duty."
"Fuck duty." Julian released Nick back with a shove and reclaimed his seat, grabbing the bottle and drinking from the neck. "And fuck the Goddess if she even exists anymore."
"He has a point," Bane said from where he'd sat quietly taking in the interaction. "What about free will? Don't we have a right to choose? We've followed duty for a millennium, and now that the Goddess has forsaken us, and...the other...gaining power. Why must we do her bidding? Where is it written?"
"You know how this works," Nick spat, rubbing his neck. "The humans have given her power by their beliefs, their fears. She's been around for over two thousand years, propagated fear and damnation until they drank the Kool-Aid. We committed to bring about the Apocalypse. It's the reason we fell from Heaven, to act as guardians, protectors, and destroyers if called upon. We knew this day would come. I, for one, am fucking excited that it has finally arrived. The humans have ruined the earth and forsaken the feminine divine. They don't deserve to inhabit this planet anymore."
"So it's up for grabs?" Bane countered. "We just destroy everything, kill everyone, and then hand it over to someone like—"
"Don't say her name," Dru cautioned. "Not when you're talking treason. And it isn't up to us who takes the reins."
"Why isn't it?" Julian asked. "We were employed, if you will, by the Goddess. She's abandoned us and the earth long ago. I never gave my fealty to Lucifer."
They all three winced when he said her name aloud.
"I am beholden to no one," Julian finished.
"Stop this. We knew that bringing about the Apocalypse wouldn't be a fucking cake walk," Dru said, standing next to Nick and looking down at Bane and Julian. "Man up, you pussies."
"That's exactly what I'm doing." Bane calmly sipped his drink. "What I've done."
"What are you talking about?" Nick asked. "What did you do?"
"Last night, when I lay with Tierra in the Standing Stones, I bound her to me."
"You...fuck." Nick buried his hands in his hair and stared up at the ceiling as if looking for divine intervention.
Divine intervention didn't answer.
The stench of over-priced perfume, much like a smoker bathing in toilet water to cover the smell of stale cigarettes saturated the air. Lucy slithered into the room on a whiff of sallow smoke that grew until it solidified into the image of a dangerous woman. Dressed this time as a dominatrix, her blond hair permed and ratted high around her like an eighty's porn star, Lucy also sported metal spikes in her ears and a whip coiled at her hip. Killer high-heeled boots that reached mid-thigh completed the intimidating outfit.
"Hello, boys," she greeted, her lips exaggerated in a puffy pout and painted a deep blood-red. She eyed each one of them slowly, taking in their expressions and stance. "Do I sense contention among the ranks?"
Silence stretched until it was as taut as the string of Nick's bow. They each felt the arrow nocked and aimed to pierce.
Bane stood and faced Lucifer, taking her attention off his brothers. "Nice outfit. Trying to make a point?"
"Subtlety isn't my strong suit, though I've dabbled when it fit my purposes." She ran her hand over the leather corset that thrust her cleavage up to her throat.
How did she breathe? Not that she needed to, Bane mused.
Lucy sauntered toward him, putting extra sway into her hips. "Tell me, my dark reaper, what have you sown for me today?" When he didn't answer, she waved her black, silk gloved-hand toward Julian. "To date, the scoreboard has Julian leaving you all in the dust. And here I thought brothers were competitive."
Julian lurched to his feet, turned his back on Lucy, and weaved his way to the liquor cabinet. He grabbed a bottle of vodka this time. Bane didn't think he cared what he drank, just needed the highest proof and most numbing of what was available.
"Yes, Julian, please pour me one," Lucy purred. "No ice. You know how much I enjoy the burn."
Julian jerked at her words, but he splashed a tumbler full and staggered on his way to hand it to her, cradling the bottle as if protecting its contents for himself.
She narrowed her kohl-rimmed eyes. "Oh, no, Julian, tell me you aren't plagued with demons. Africa hasn't taxed you, has it? Your work was so creative, that of an artist really. I couldn't be more proud."
"Go back to Hell." He fell back into his chair and took a long draw from the bottle.
Lucy threw back her head and laughed. The devilish sound grated, much like cloven hooves scraping down a tin roof. "Now, now, my pet. The havoc you have wreaked on my behalf makes me feel inclined to reward you. What would you like? Just tell me and I will make it happen. That is, besides that witch you fancy." Her tone darkened. "She, you can not have."
Julian refused to look at her and lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped.
"Let him be," Bane said.
Slowly she swiveled her head on her shoulders without moving her body. No matter how many times he'd witnessed the trick, it was always disconcerting to see a head turn ninety degrees. He knew she did it to remind him of who she was. Basic horror 101.
But she didn't scare him. Not anymore. He had her number.
"You dare to order me about?" She aligned her body with her head and handed off her drink to Dru, who tossed back the vodka and set the glass aside.
"I dare much more than that." Bane took a step toward her, his shoulders squared, his eyes cold. "I've wanted to do this for over a thousand years. Once you enthralled me. Not anymore. I see you for what you really are."
"And just what am I, Killian Bane?" Her voice literally sizzled the air between them.
"A spoiled kid who didn't get enough of mommy's attention. You can play the victim all you want, throw your tantrums, and wreak havoc, but I don't believe in you anymore. So fuck off."
"Bane," Nick warned, flanking Lucy's side.
"Stay out of this," he ordered. "This is between her and me."
"You've chosen her side then?" Lucy asked in a venomous hiss acidic enough to strip paint. "That bitch who up and left you—all of you—to flounder without direction? Without a thought to your wellbeing, your future, your spirit. You would choose her over me?" she thundered.
"I'm not on your side or the Goddess's. I'm on mine."
"Does this have to do with those four witches?" She switched gears as quick as a Formula One driver. "Which witch has caught your fancy?"
He shuttered his expression, but Tierra's name popped into his head and Lucy snatched it out.
"I should have known it would be the earth witch." She smirked and then her eyes alighted with pleasure. "I hate to break it to you, Bane, but Tierra de Moray has been sleeping in another's bed. The bitch is pregnant."
"I know." Bane relished watching the smugness on Lucy's face fade in confusion when her arrow failed to strike its target.
"You...know? You're aware she's with child, and it doesn't bother you that she carries another's bastard in her belly?" she scoffed. "Well, I for one never thought of you as the progressive sort, Death."
He let the silence weave around them, heard his fellow Horsemen hold their breath for what he'd say next. Dru slowly shook his head and telegraphed, "Don't do it, man." Nick stood at Lucy's elbow ready to do her bidding, while Julian slumped in his chair like he didn't give a fuck about anything anymore.
"Tierra's child is mine." In all his years, Bane had never enjoyed saying a statement more so he repeated it. "It's my child that she will bear. I spilled her virgin's blood and my seed grows inside her."
Lucy's mouth fell open, and she deflated before his eyes like he'd taken his fist and sucker-punched her in the gut. Within seconds she had herself under control and raised h
er head to glare at him. Her eyes flared with the fires of Hell and she dragged in a breath that seemed to increase her size. But he knew it was an illusion.
A shrewd glint entered her eyes. "You will pay for lying to me. Death does not create life."
Bane smiled, not hiding one bit of his triumphant emotion. "He does when he lies with the most powerful earth witch since the last King of the Druids. Yes, I was there. I watched over Tierra as she claimed the crown and staff, witnessed the return of the Druids and the beginning of your end."
Chapter Ten
Tierra stumbled outside into the gardens, kept moving until breathing became easier and the debilitating nausea abated. Another moment in that house and she would die. The last week, she and her sisters had searched everywhere, taking the manor room-by-room, looking for whatever had been hidden in the house. They'd found nothing.
But something evil was hidden inside.
She trusted what Killian had told her, and if that wasn't enough, her physical reaction made her a believer. Aerin and Claire had tried to explain away her responses as morning sickness and that Tierra was being overly dramatic because of the pregnancy. That was a bunch of bullshit. This wasn't normal morning sickness. Didn't matter that her pregnancy wasn't normal either. She knew danger lurked in the manor.
It must be a person instead of an object. That was the only thing that made sense. A body could move in and out of the house, yet whoever it was had somehow confused the wards.
While Tierra was affected the most physically, even violently at times, the effect on Claire and Aerin was more subtle. They were more demanding, bawdier, and quicker to anger. Of course they didn't see it that way and were pissy with Tierra when she'd tried to talk to them. Moira, on the other hand, dissolved into tears at the craziest things, like the taste of fried chicken, Aunt Justine looking at her sideways, or the smell of magnolias. Moira worried incessantly and tried to help heal the rift developing between all of them to the point of exhaustion. Moisture bled from her eyes in unending streams, and if this kept up, Tierra feared Moira would drain herself dry.
Which Witch is Wicked? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 2) Page 23
