“Over my dead body, bitch,” she spat, reaching for the coil of darkness at the base of her soul.
Gabby had used the untapped power inside of her once to send the wraiths back to the brink, and she would use it again. She was strong now, and the lure of ultimate power wouldn’t take her. She’d come back.
“That can be arranged,” the wraith said with a smirk. “Quite easily.”
Raising her hand, Eleanor called on her magic, the air beginning to charge with static. The vampires around her tensed, their fangs bared, ready to strike.
Gabby raised her own hand, mirroring Eleanor’s stance, calling upon her own abilities. Time to show that bitch who was the boss. The good guys were going to kick her ass back to the other side and beyond.
The wraith smiled, her eyes sparkling, then she flung her hands toward the assembled vampires, an invisible wall smashing into their bodies, sending them all flying backward. When they tried to stand and counter attack, none of them could move, the spell holding them in place.
Eleanor began to laugh and walked across the lawn toward Gabby. “Nice trick, no?”
“You think you have all the power here,” Gabby snarled. “Do you know what’ll be your downfall?”
The wraith tilted her head to the side, her curled hair waving in the breeze of the witch’s brewing power.
“Arrogance.”
Gabby cried out, bringing her own power back against the wall, and the spell crumbled, freeing the vampires from the force pinning them down.
Immediately, they sprang to their feet and leapt into action, Alex, Tristan, and Reed among them. Vampires piled on top of the wraith, and she began to writhe under the mountain of flesh, the scent of blood tickling Gabby’s nose. It couldn’t be that easy, right?
A bright light began to grow from within, and Gabby knew it was only the beginning. The real fight hadn’t even started. A sharp burst of energy sent the vampires flying once more, Eleanor emerging unscathed, a look of pure malice etched on her face.
Then all hell broke loose.
Nye returned to Isobel as fast as he could.
He busied himself laying out towels on the bed, placing pillows behind Isobel’s back, dabbing her forehead with a cool washcloth, anything to make her more comfortable. The longer he watched, the more hopeless he felt. He could do nothing to alleviate her pain. He had four hundred years of knowledge and understanding but when it came to this? He was at a complete and total loss.
Her contractions were closer and closer, his nerves shredding along with each bout of pain she endured.
“You look sick,” Isobel said as she breathed through the spasms.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “Just worried about you.”
“I want to push,” she said abruptly, her voice wavering. “I feel like I want to squeeze her out. You need to check.”
He glanced at her stomach and the sheet that covered her and swallowed.
“Nye,” she snapped. “It’s the last thing I want you to be doing too, you know. It’s gross and totally unsexy, but you have to help her out.”
He hesitated, a million and one terrible scenarios going through his mind. What if the baby got caught? What if the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck? What if she didn’t start breathing on her own? What if Isobel hemorrhaged? Would he have enough wits about him to help her before she bled out?
“Ooohhhh!” Isobel cried. “She’s coming!”
Swallowing his fear, he got into position. Someone had to catch the little one, so it may as well be her dad.
Ready or not…
The wind dropped suddenly, sending the vampires tumbling to the ground, each of them unconscious.
Eleanor turned on her heel and stared up at the house, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.
Gabby stilled, her heart thudding in her chest, and she knew. The baby had been born.
Eleanor pushed against her with a barrage of force, her essence seeming to draw power from everything around her. She was sucking the life from the garden, the plants beginning to wilt and the leaves fading from green to yellow to orange before fluttering to the ground. The wraith was far stronger than Gabby had thought, siphoning power recklessly from the earth Gabby had sworn to protect.
Gabby struggled to hold her position, begging for enough time for the baby to bond with her parents so the light would take her instead of the darkness. Everything depended on it. Everything.
Sensing her faltering strength, Eleanor pushed with everything she could muster and Gabby’s magic crumbled, shattering into nothing.
Her head cracked on the flagstones, her head spinning. Eleanor stood over her, smiling in triumph as her vision slipped…
Then everything went back.
“Oh, God,” Nye exclaimed as he watched his daughter come into the world. “Oh, God.”
Isobel grunted, giving one last push, and the baby slid out into his hands.
“Bloody hell!” he said, cradling the little mess of arms and legs in his arms. His shirt was ruined.
“Is she…” Isobel gasped, completely breathless.
His stomach rolled as he cut the umbilical cord and wiped the gunk off her skin with a soft towel. Rubbing her back, her chest began to rise, her lungs filling with her first breath.
“She’s okay,” he murmured, starting to tear up. “You’re okay. Everything is fine. Just fine.”
The baby opened her eyes then, revealing two bright little irises, and she stared at him. Something passed between them—a zap of energy, a bolt of love, a profound sense of…something. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew the little girl was everything they thought she’d be. She was a very special witch. He could feel it all around her.
“Quick,” Isobel said, her breathing labored. “Ismena’s tear.” She held out her hand and waved at the box on the bedside table.
Nye snatched it up and opened the lid, staring at the little jewel. Outside, the wind had died down, the crashing and banging falling into silence. Eleanor was coming.
Nye slipped the tear around the baby’s neck, her little arms flailing as her first cries echoed around the room.
“Here,” Nye said, transferring the little bundle into Isobel’s arms so she could feel the same connection he had. “Protect her. I’ve got you both.”
Movement at the door drew his attention, and he rose to his feet, baring his fangs.
Eleanor stepped inside, her expression melting when she saw the child. “Oh! She’s beautiful,” she crooned. “She’ll be a fine addition to the coven. A very fine addition indeed.”
“Like hell,” Nye snarled as he shot forward, aiming for her throat.
Before he could even take a second step, the wraith flung her hand at him, and his body flew across the room, his back slamming into the wall. He felt her evil web clinging to his limbs and knew it was no use. He was stuck.
“No!” Isobel cried, causing the baby to stir.
Eleanor crossed the room, a sweet smile on her face. To think he’d once believed he loved a poisonous woman like her! It made him sick to see her twisted into this dark creature, hell-bent on stealing a child—his child—that he’d only held for the smallest fraction of time. It was abhorrent.
Nye writhed, using all of his strength in an attempt to break free of Eleanor’s hold, but it was no use. He was fixed in place, helpless as the wraith stood over Isobel and the baby. No!
As Eleanor stared at the child, the strangest thing happened. Her eyes widened in fear. Fear.
“No, no, no…” she muttered.
“Get away from her, you monster,” Isobel hissed.
Nye struggled, his heart breaking. She was powerless lying there, she had no power, no strength, and the child was completely defenseless…but something had Eleanor recoiling in shock.
The tear. It had to be!
“You can’t take her from me,” Isobel cried, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the baby to her chest. “They protect her now. She’ll never be taken by
your poisonous darkness.”
Nye’s gaze flew to the tear he’d placed around the baby’s neck and gritted his teeth together. The little jewel was beginning to glow brighter and brighter until he had to squint. The baby began to cry, its shrill little voice the only sound he could hear. Then as fast as it had grown, the light subsided, revealing the room once more.
Nye fell, the spell holding him prisoner dissolving, and he fell face first onto the floor with a thud. When he managed to scramble to his feet, Eleanor was gone.
Darting to the bed, he let out a relieved sigh when he found Isobel cradling the baby, both of them safe and sound.
They’d done it.
Chapter 15
Gabby stood in the middle of the lawn, staring at the mess Eleanor had left behind.
The beautiful garden that’d been bursting with luscious green trees and hundreds of flowers in full bloom was nothing but a decaying mess. Everything was brown and wilted, and the summer sun had caused the garden beds to emit a stench that was pungent to even her nose.
She glanced over at Regulus’s olive tree. It stood as tall and proud as ever, its branches full of bright green leaves. Ironic that it was the only plant unaffected by the chaos that had ripped through the place the night before last, but the magic that protected it was a web of her own creation. It was flawless. Of course, it was.
Tristan stood beside her, stoic as ever except for the slight wrinkle in his forehead. He was having trouble tolerating the stink, too.
“Gross, right?” she said, scowling at the mess.
“This will take weeks to clean up,” he said in commiseration. “We’ll have to get a landscaper to come in as soon as possible. Compel them to not ask questions.”
Her scowl deepened. “No need. It’s my mess. I’ll fix it.”
“Is your head hurtin’? If so, we can take a break. The wards are stronger than ever.”
She ignored him, wondering how much power it would take to grow back the entire garden. The lawn, trees, flowers, the pot plants, the Virginia creeper she loved so much. Well, everything.
“Gabby, if you’ll just let me—”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m fine. It’s just a bump.”
“I know you blame yourself for lettin’ Eleanor get so close to Isobel, but—”
“Tristan, please.” She shot him a warning glance.
“They’re fine,” he said firmly. “Everyone is fine. No one was hurt badly.”
“Are you fine?”
“I saw them a few minutes ago,” he went on, ignoring her on purpose. “Isobel is walkin’ the baby around the kitchen tryin’ to get her to fall asleep. I told her she should rest herself, but she seems unnaturally energized.”
Gabby grunted. “Nothing about any of this is natural.”
“No, I suppose not. The baby has already opened her eyes,” he mused. “She has an awareness that’s unnervin’ for such a little creature.”
Gabby gritted her teeth, doing her darnedest to hold onto her emotions. She felt a burning sensation in the back of her throat at the thought she let Eleanor pass. The wraith had stood over her friend’s bed while Nye had been rendered helpless—the baby cradled in her mother’s arms—and had almost snatched her child away. If it weren’t for Ismena’s tear, then today would be a much different day.
Gabby swallowed the regret at her failure and brought herself back under control. She was just tired from the struggle against Eleanor and the effort it had taken to reinstate the wards that morning. She was so beat that Tristan had to accompany her and lend his strength so the job could get done.
“Why do you stay?” he asked abruptly. “There are so many bad memories in this place.”
“Why did you come back when you did?” she asked, turning his questioning on him.
Tristan’s expression didn’t budge an inch.
“Arrow made me see I was merely runnin’ away from my problems, not facin’ them,” he said as if it were the most simple thing in the world. “I came back to atone.”
“Atone for what? Compulsion is a normal part of a vampire’s life.”
His lips quirked. “Hypocritical of me, no?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Her shoulders sank, and she felt a pang of regret at her hasty words.
“No one is one hundred percent good, I suppose,” he replied, turning his attention back to the green. “We all have things to atone for in one way or another. Things we regret and actions we wish to right.”
Thinking of the dark power coiled at the very bottom of her soul, Gabby grimaced. The things she’d done to save her friends could fall into the column labeled good or the one labeled bad. Did she have to atone for her actions? Both sides lived within her, but then again, life was about balancing the two halves of herself just as any human, witch, or vampire.
Which was exactly the fight Isobel and Nye’s daughter would have to face.
Thinking about her own desire for a family—out of want, not duty as a witch—she mulled over the baby and what they would have to do next. The only way to stop Eleanor resurrecting the Unhallowed was to protect the still unnamed baby…and the only way to destroy them forever was to exploit the child’s power in the exact same fashion the wraith was going to. The thought made Gabby sick and entirely hypocritical.
In witch lore, there was always another way, but perhaps this time, there wasn’t.
“Come inside,” Tristan said, breaking her chaotic thought pattern. “The garden can wait.”
She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Reed talking with Alex by the entrance to the opposite wing of the house. Talking about family…
Turning back to the knight, she said, “I need some time to think. I’ll be in shortly.”
He nodded slightly, like he was acknowledging a noble lady of yore, and retreated across the wilted lawn.
Perhaps Gabby would find her future a little closer to home than she realized.
Isobel cradled her daughter in her arms and bounced her gently, attempting to rock her to sleep. Needless to say, the way she was staring up at her right now, it wasn’t doing any good.
Rounding the kitchen island on her tenth rotation, she caught another glimpse of the withered garden. Most of the greenery had decayed, and it was a confronting sight.
Only a day had passed since Eleanor’s assault on the manor, and everyone and everything was still in disarray, though the cleanup was starting to progress. Nye had sent the Six out to scour the city for any clues as to where Eleanor crawled away to and to gather intelligence on the vampires and what they did and did not know. Tristan was assisting Gabby around the grounds, lending her his strength to reinstate the wards. And Alex had gone to the store to get the much-needed baby supplies.
Isobel knew she shouldn’t be on her feet, especially since it had only been a day since she’d given birth. The fears her body would crumble the moment she was no longer needed to incubate the child were unfounded. Maybe she should be alarmed, but deep down, she was relieved. Unfortunately, the feeling fine part didn’t apply to her post-baby stomach flab.
Isobel stared out the window and watched the goings-on. Gabby stood in the middle of the pile of dirt that used to be the lawn, her back to the manor. The witch blamed herself for letting Eleanor get so close to them, but there was nothing she could have done. The bump on her head that she’d received when she fell onto the patio was still present on her temple, and she refused to let any of the vampires heal her.
Everyone was fine. The vampires, Tristan, Reed, Nye, Isobel, and the baby. Ismena’s tear had protected them in the end, and to Isobel, it was enough. Her friend put too much pressure on herself.
The baby squirmed in her arms, her little mouth opening with a wide yawn. Her brown eyes stared up at her, and Isobel smiled, wondering how such a little thing could hold her heart so tightly.
Considering the amount of time that had passed since she’d come into the world, Isobel was amazed at the things her daughter was doing. She’
d expected the child to be gifted but from day dot? It was something else. She hardly slept, she was always hungry—which meant there’d been a lot of diaper emergencies already—but she didn’t cry at all. There were a few grumbles and a fat tear or two, but no full-blown screaming. She was a dream baby if anyone asked Isobel. Total smooth sailing.
The baby gurgled in her arms, and Isobel glanced down, smiling at the sight of her little face. The shock of bright orange hair under her little white beanie was a surprise when Isobel first realized she was going to take after her mom, but it was growing on her. Her little ginger ninja.
“Hey, baby,” she crooned. “Shall we go see what your daddy is up to? He’s been hiding out this morning, doing who knows what. Heaven help me if you’ve inherited any of his cunningness.”
The baby squirmed again, wanting to free her arms from the cocoon that was her blanket. Loosening the fabric, Isobel tilted her face out of the way as her daughter’s little arms flailed happily.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she declared and wove her way through the house and back upstairs.
Nye wasn’t in the study as he usually was, so she moved down the hall to their room. Peering in the door, she saw him securing a screw into a piece of flat-pack furniture, the Allen key looking totally alien in his hands. Her vampire boyfriend putting together a flat-pack her vampire brother brought back from Ikea? If only she had a camera!
He was surrounded by discarded cardboard, Styrofoam, and plastic, an assembled cot standing in the center of the chaos. Eyeballs deep in another kind of trouble, then.
“What’s this?” she asked, stepping into the room.
Nye glanced up and smiled. “Alex brought it back this morning,” he said. “She’s got to sleep someplace.”
“We’ve got to stop calling her she,” she muttered, rocking the baby back and forth. “Any ideas?”
Nye stood before her, only having eyes for the little bundle in her arms. “She’s going to grow up to be an immortal witch, so it has to be something badass.”
The Keeping Place (Book Six in the Witch Hunter Saga) Page 13
