“Not much of it.”
He heard Isobel’s voice on the air, the sound faint and muffled, but she was calling his name. Without a second glance or a single word, he left Gabby to her communing. What could he do to help her? Nothing since the ancestor spirits hated his guts merely because he was a vampire. Good luck to them.
A life without hope…
Gabby watched Nye disappear back into the house.
He was struggling more with the realization he was going to become a father than their lack of power to fight Eleanor. He feared for the child even as he struggled with his responsibility.
Settling back onto the grass, she stared up at the olive tree. What would Regulus do? He would chip away at the problem until it crumbled in his hands, that’s what he would do. Perhaps she needed to take more of a head-on approach and stop being so darn polite all the time.
It was risky. The spirits might stop talking to her totally if she pushed too hard, but she’d done nothing but appease their wishes from the first moment they’d spoken to her. Gabby was more than a vessel to exact their will on the living. She was not their tool just as the child would not be one for Eleanor.
Closing her eyes, she focused her earth sense and felt out the edges of the veil that separated the land of the living from the other side. She’d had a great deal of practice over the last few months, having communed with Katrin and the other spirits who resided deep within the mists. The cool tendrils of the spirit realm tickled against her skin, and she opened her eyes, slipping through the curtain with expert precision.
“Hey!” she yelled into the silvery void. “Hey, you! It’s Gabrielle Cohen, remember me? The witch you hide from every time I knock on the door.”
Nothing answered her angry call.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Nothing.
“Oh, so when you want me to do your dirty work, you’re all chatty, but when the world hangs on the brink and I need your help for a change, you’re nowhere to be seen! Well, that’s just selfish. The all-powerful ancestor spirits. Pfft! Pathetic.”
A hum began to sound in her ears, the mist beginning to shimmer.
“Come on!” she went on. “Strike me down, or help me save the world from a coven of scum sucking wraiths. You know you want to!”
“Silence!”
Gabby stilled as the veil shimmered, the mist swirling in violent gusts as the silhouette of a woman emerged, gaining strength and form until she stood before her.
“Who…” she began, but as the woman reached out and brushed her fingers against Gabby’s cheek, understanding flooded her mind.
Ismena.
One of the five founding witches. She was of the ether, which meant she was standing before her ancestor, the beginning of her bloodline. Over two thousand years ago, she’d been gifted her abilities by a Celestine named Ayasti—Aya, the Witch Hunter’s, mother.
“Ismena?” Gabby whispered in shock.
“You have my attention, Gabrielle. Speak.”
“How…”
“I am here with great difficulty on my part,” she replied. “My essence has retreated far into the ether, so touching the lives of the living is not the easiest task.”
“I need your help,” she began. “The Unhallowed…”
“Yes, I know of them,” Ismena replied. “These creatures, these Unhallowed wraiths, must not be allowed to return to the living.”
“I know,” Gabby said. “We’ve been trying to find a way to sever their ties, but nothing… I can’t find a way and now…”
Ismena pursed her lips. “The child.”
“Is that why you won’t talk to me? You must understand,” Gabby pleaded. “They were tricked. The only crime they’re guilty of is love.”
“He is a vampire. He is preying on an innocent human woman. The people we are sworn to protect.”
“Nye never wanted to become a vampire. He was forced like many who have come before and after. He’ll be a good father to this child and protect her with his life. There’s goodness in him. I’ve seen it.”
“You fell in love with Regulus,” Ismena went on. “The Roman who pledged his allegiance to Katrin, the Betrayer.”
“The world is not black and white!” Gabby cried, her heart twisting. “You’re accusing me of betraying my people when I have done nothing but sacrifice myself to fight for them! I’ve lost more than I ever had, I’ve protected those who have had their human lives taken from them, and I’ve protected and fought with the last of the Celestines! I’ve given so much, and now that I’m asking for a little bit of help, you won’t give it?” Tears began to stream down her face as the frustration she’d locked inside for the last few months burst forth. “You force your will on me and expect me to jump without asking why, and I’ve jumped, no questions asked. I need help! Please…”
“There…” The veil parted, the edges shimmering around the spirit’s form. “Do you hear that?”
Gabby sniffed, brushing away her tears. “Hear what?”
“The sound of your conviction. You love them despite what they are.”
“I love them for who they are,” she said defiantly.
The founder smiled, and the veil shimmered.
“The child is the key,” Ismena said, cupping Gabby’s cheek in her palm.
At her touch, light burst through Gabby’s mind, and suddenly, she understood. It wasn’t a mere witch with power Eleanor needed. No, it was much more than that.
Isobel was a human imbued with a witch legacy. Nye was a vampire who had immortality. Their child would be a hybrid of the two, which meant a fusing of their abilities.
A truly immortal witch.
Unlimited power. Unlimited knowledge. No training necessary. This child would be the most powerful supernatural creature ever. This was how the Unhallowed would be resurrected.
Eleanor had planned to carry the child herself all those years ago, but the moment that Nye killed her human body and cursed her to becoming a wraith was the moment the last of the Unhallowed were rendered infertile.
Nye was the seed, Eleanor was the bearer, and the child—the immortal witch—was the fruit of their salvation.
“Now you understand,” Ismena said, her musical voice floating through the veil. “She is unnatural. What happens in her first moments of life will determine who she will be. Light or dark. Guide her, Gabrielle.”
Holding out her palm, Ismena gestured to her. Leaning forward, she gasped as she beheld a perfect diamond teardrop against the founding witch’s silver skin.
“My gift to the child. May it bring her light when all others go out.”
Gabby plucked the jewel from Ismena’s palm as the veil began to shimmer, and the world began to come back into view around her. The outline of the witch blurred, fading until it was no more. Finally, she was alone in the garden, the olive tree towering above her.
Uncurling her hand, Gabby stared down at the teardrop and understood what they had to do. It was the only way they could defeat the Unhallowed for good. The child was the key.
If Eleanor got her hands on the baby the moment she was born, then she would be guided to the dark, and all would be lost. With no way of stopping the wraith, there was only one course of action. Protect Isobel and the baby at all costs.
Besides, they had one thing up their sleeve Eleanor hadn’t counted on.
The love of a mother.
By halting the spread of the curse, Isobel would bear the child as a human, not a potential wraith as Eleanor had been before she’d died.
Turning, she found Isobel sitting on a bench on the patio, her gaze studying the sky, which had turned dark while Gabby had been on the other side. The first stars of the night were already shining through, the lights of London dulling their brilliance.
“Hey,” Gabby said, shuffling up the stairs, her feet thudding on the flagstones.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Isobel replied. “You looked so calm.”
“I was communing wit
h the ancestor spirits,” she explained. “They’ve been elusive these past few days, but I finally got them to talk.”
“Yeah?” Isobel straightened as much as her enormous belly would allow. “What did they say?”
“Well, they’re pretty angry about the baby, but that was always going to be a given.”
Izzy scowled and smoothed her palms over her stomach. “What did she do to anyone?”
“Nothing. She’s a victim just as much as any of us, but she’s unnatural.”
“If the bloody spirits are pissed at anyone, it should be Eleanor and her cronies.”
Uncurling her hand, Gabby stared down at the teardrop Ismena had gifted her. They definitely were.
“She was trying to turn you into a wraith,” she said, voicing her thoughts. “To ensure the child was born to darkness.”
“She was trying to turn me into one of those soul-sucking leeches after all?” She collapsed back onto the bench, her belly bulging. “Bloody hell.”
“We stopped it,” Gabby said, sitting beside her.
“As long as I wear the Triskele’s pendant, then I’ll be fine. I can handle that.” She glanced at her stomach.
“The child is…” She sighed, not knowing how to explain it.
“Is what, Gabby?”
“She’ll be an immortal witch. Prone to both light and dark. Her first moments of life will determine the course of her eternity.”
Isobel began to shake. “What?”
“If she remains with you and Nye, then I have no doubt in my mind she’ll turn to the light. Love, laughter, happiness…kindness. Those are the things she needs.”
“And if Eleanor gets her greasy mitts on her, then she’ll become just as twisted.” Isobel rubbed her eyes. “Hear that, baby? Mommy loves you with all the sunshine and rainbows in the world.”
At that moment, her friend’s strength was insurmountable. With Isobel as her mother, the child would only have one path to follow, and that would be to the light. Goodness flowed through every fiber of her body.
“I can handle a lot of things,” Izzy went on, “like immortal wolves, vampire sex, curses being stopped by a werewolf heirloom and witch spirits, but what I can’t handle is the fact an immortal witch is growing in my womb. It’s been a week, and I’m already on the verge of popping!”
They fell into silence as the gravity of their situation sank in. There was nothing else they could say about it.
“Gabby…” Isobel began uneasily. “Am I going to make it through this? I know I’ve been fine so far, but what if the moment she’s born… What if my body…”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s a possibility, right?”
“No, I won’t allow it. The baby needs you to guide her.”
She grasped her friend’s arm. “Gabby, I’m scared. I told Nye I was fine, but I…” She held her stomach. “I want to be around to help her. She needs a mother. I want to protect her, but…”
“No buts,” Gabby said firmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you get to see her grow up.” She held out her palm, showing the jewel to Isobel. “Ismena gave this to me. A gift for the baby.”
“Ismena?”
“The founder of my bloodline,” she explained. “She was the one who helped me. This is one of her tears. A light when all others go out, she said.”
Isobel stared at the jewel for a long time before she nodded and glanced away. Placing her hand on her stomach, she smiled. “I think she likes it.”
Gabby closed her hand around the teardrop and focused her will, warming and shaping until she felt her intention completely manifest. When she held out the jewel for her friend, she smiled at the creation.
The diamond was entwined with strands of spun silver, the point shimmering as if it’d been dipped in a pot of liquid magic, the tip left open with space for a chain to be threaded through.
“Keep it close,” Gabby murmured, handing it to Isobel. “Once she’s born…”
Izzy nodded, closing her hand around the pendant. Like mother like daughter.
Chapter 13
Day seven of babygeddon dawned, and Isobel was beginning to feel like a stuffed chicken.
Her feet were swollen, her bladder was squashed, she was eating like a horse, and she’d forgotten the last time she’d washed her hair. It was a wonder Nye didn’t plug his nose when he was around her. Honestly, she wondered why he’d stuck around at all. She was a mess.
If there was any blessing to their current situation, it was the fact Eleanor had gone silent. Isobel wondered if it meant she’d smashed the wraith up real good when she hit her with the car, but Isobel knew she was hoping for too much.
Desperate for some fresh air, Isobel decided to go out into the garden. The wards Gabby had placed around the grounds would alert them of trouble long before it arrived, so the thought of sitting out in the open didn’t bother her as much as it probably should. Besides, the way the baby squirmed when the sunlight hit her belly made her believe she liked the sunshine, too.
Out in the hall, she could hear Nye’s muffled voice inside the study, but she didn’t open the door. Leaving him in peace so he could run his kingdom, she waddled down the stairs—taking about a million years to descend—shuffled through the kitchen, and opened the back door.
Instantly, the sweet scent of lilac wafted up her nose, and she smiled. Her senses seemed sharper since she’d gotten knocked up, if that was even possible. She supposed her hormones were in overdrive with the week-long stomach explosion, or it could be the fact she was growing an immortal witch.
Stepping outside, she sat on the bench and shielded her eyes from the summer sun, staring at the view of London over the tops of the trees. The manor sat on a rise, and on a clear day, she imagined she could see the outline of the Shard, the tallest building in the whole city.
Her thoughts wandered as she relaxed. If they got out of this, what would she do then? Her dream of traveling the world and finishing her Masters had been flung out of the window in the most dramatic fashion, her plans on digging up half the ancient world crumbling into ashes. Maybe she could still do those things, but what would Nye want to do? He was the leader of the London vampires. He wouldn’t be able to go anywhere.
Then there was the baby.
Maybe she would know what to do once the baby was born. People said things just clicked the moment their kids came into the world. Maybe it would be the same for her.
The air crackled like a bug slapping into an electronic zapper and frying to a crisp. Zap! Her heart leapt, and her shoulders stiffened, realizing it must be one of the wards reacting to someone crossing the boundary. She had to get back indoors and tell Nye.
Rising to her feet, she cursed her awkwardness. Damn, she was so top-heavy it was a wonder she hadn’t fallen on her ass already.
Before she could step into the kitchen, a man stepped onto the patio, and she let out a yelp, but there was no need to be afraid. She recognized Tristan immediately. He’d come back!
“Isobel?” he asked, his Irish accent sounding thicker—if that were even possible. His confused gaze fell to her stomach.
“Tristan? Where have you been? We’ve been worried about you!” She took a step toward him, relief flooding through her body.
“Really?” he asked with a shake of his head.
“Of course!”
Before she could take another step, Nye appeared out of thin air and collided with the knight. The two vampires sailed over the edge of the patio and flew across the yard, tumbling over the turf before righting themselves.
“Nye!” Isobel cried, rushing forward. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Coward,” the spy snarled at the knight. “What an opportune time to show up.”
He took a swing at Tristan, his fist slamming into his cheekbone with a thud that echoed across the garden. Isobel winced, her own cheek throbbing in sympathy, but the knight hardly moved, let alone blinked.
“You had better star
t explaining yourself, Tristan na Tri Tor, or I won’t be so gentle next time.”
Isobel’s mouth fell open. That punch was gentle? The force behind that would have broken any normal man’s cheekbone! She wondered if she’d ever understand vampires, let alone the way their bodies healed within seconds.
“I went to see Arrow,” Tristan said, rubbing his cheek.
“Aya?” Nye exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “You expect me to believe that?”
“If anyone could help me with my compulsion, it was her.”
“So you don’t trust Gabby now? She removed it.”
“I couldn’t trust myself,” he said, his voice beginning to rise. “I couldn’t live with the betrayal.” Abruptly, he fell to his knees, his head bowed in submission.
Isobel glanced at Nye, her eyes wide and her heart breaking. What was Tristan doing? Was he offering his life to Nye? Did he want to die? She didn’t understand what was happening.
“Is that what you want?” Nye drawled, sounding bored. “You want me to put an end to a thousand years of your pathetic suffering?”
“Stop it!” Isobel declared, moving across the grass as fast as she could manage. “Leave him alone!”
Nye glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Go inside,” he commanded. “You don’t want to see this.”
“Like hell, I will,” she replied, jutting out her chin. “Leave him the hell alone.”
“This is none of your business, Isobel.”
“How dare you!” she cried at the spy. “How dare you dismiss me after all we’ve been through.”
“This is vampire business,” he said, grasping her shoulders. “You’re not part of this.”
“Like hell.” She scoffed and hugged her belly. “This is family business. Stuff being a vampire.”
Nye hesitated, his brow creasing in confusion. “Is that really how you see him?”
“Duh!” She shoved past him and stood before Tristan, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Being stuffed with a magical baby on fast forward makes you see things real clear like. I won’t let you hurt him, Nye.”
Tristan’s head was still lowered in submission, his hair hiding his face from her. Knowing there was no hope in hell she was getting up off the ground if she sat down, she nudged the knight with her foot.
The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 11
