by Cecy Robson
It’s more than I ever needed to know. Thanks for the nightmares there, kid.
“They slept,” she repeats, her eyes closing with pleasure. “Helping the Fate learn their magic.”
“So, Johnny could ultimately manipulate it,” I say. She appears to fall asleep standing. My comment wakes her right up.
“Yes,” she replies, another scathing glare aimed my way. She doesn’t like me answering for her. Her problem, not mine.
“It was the hardest magic I ever tried,” she adds. “I never thought I could perform such a task. But I did, and it worked. I did everything they asked and more.” She coughs, spitting bile mixed with blood on the floor. “All that the Fate needed was the key to open the door.”
And insert the sacrifice here.
This witch is screwed two ways from Sunday and double-dipped into a vat of crazy every day in between. She might have started off with issues, her toe skimming along the pool of insecurity like the rest of us. Or she could have been unstable from the start. Whatever Johnny and his crew did pushed her to a place she won’t return from.
“What’s your name?”
Her attention grounds on Celia. She didn’t expect Celia to speak again. I imagine she expects a quick death, a slash of claws across her throat, or maybe even a knife to the heart. She won’t get off that easy. Not once we hand her over to Genevieve.
“What’s your name?” Celia repeats, her voice neither kind nor violent.
“Bridette,” the witch says.
“Why did you betray us, Bridette?” Celia asks. Like the rest of us, we’re not impressed by Johnny or the magic she used to let him in. They’re murderers. All their great feats of magic won’t change that.
I walk to Celia’s side, the cool concrete at my feet sending painful waves through my calves, instead of offering reprieve. It’s not that Celia needs me, but I need her. Bridette isn’t a demon to kill or one of those monsters to take out before it tears out our insides. Those, I aim for and fire. It’s easy. I don’t respect the lives of those beings, not when they’re gunning for me. And although she caused so much damage, I can’t just shoot and fire.
Bridette is a poor, miserable soul who made all the wrong choices. I’m still not certain, though, that she sees it.
She dips her hands into the water again, her thirst more important to her than us. Several large roaches scurry around the rim. Emme clasps her wrists, trying to stop her. “Please don’t do that,” Emme tells her. “You’re better than this.”
No, I don’t think she is.
Bridette opens her mouth enough to expose the gaping holes where a pretty smile once lived. “It’s cold,” she says. “It helps the pain.”
“Why did you betray us?” Celia asks, again. Unlike before, there’s more force to her tone. Bridette may be incapable of tears, but Celia has plenty for all of us. “What was so important to you that you chose to side with Fate?”
“You love your child,” Bridette says. She’s not asking. It’s a fact she already understands. She takes another long pull of water, swishing it in her mouth before allowing it to spill down her chin and neck. Her weary gaze lowers to Celia’s belly. “From the moment you heard he was coming, you loved him.”
When Bridette tries to laugh, only a haunting and ragged wisp releases. “It’s strange, don’t you think, tigress?” she asks. “To become so completely enchanted with something the size of a dot? It has no strength. It has no thoughts or ability to communicate. Yet it still manages to steal your heart even as it leeches from you, taking shape inside you because of you and everything you do for him.”
Those tears Bridette lacked find their way into her voice. “You’ll do anything for him. Lie, hurt, kill, and betray. Whatever it takes, you’ll do. It’s that power children have over us.”
Bridette slaps at the bucket, knocking it over. The water sprays my exposed shins, chilling my bones and coating the marrow with ice. I want to cover my legs and dry them with what remains of my dress. Instead, I don’t move, her words keeping me in place.
“You think you’ll love nothing more,” she says. “Then the gods gift you with another, expanding your heart to hold so much love you’re certain you’ll explode.”
Bridette sways from side to side, humming what sounds like a nursery song in a language I can’t make out.
“Where are your children now?” I get the words out myself. Celia can’t. We know Bridette’s story doesn’t end well.
Bridette looks around as if she can’t understand where the voice came from. It happens to those tortured souls like Bridette. Things stop making sense, and clarity abandons you.
Indignation that I don’t expect from someone so feeble greets me as cold as the water pooled at my feet. “I never found my mate. Not like those foul mutts do. But I did find a woman who loved me as hard as I needed her to.” She raises her hands, her bitterness oddly morphing to excitement. “Together, we found a were more than willing to share my bed.”
Shayna’s gaze shifts to me. Neither of us like the “foul mutts” reference, or all the crazy Bridette is spilling like a busted dam. We keep our mouths shut, anyway, waiting, listening, wanting to gather as much information as we can.
“It didn’t take long. He fucked me just once.” She smiles. “I liked it.” Her smile fades. “I shouldn’t have liked it, it made Louisa mad. She didn’t see what I saw that he was fertile, and his seed was strong.” The weight of her confession appears too affect her. She reaches for the spout to steady herself. “The next mutt wasn’t as virile. It took a few times until I was pregnant with my second. They weren’t were or witches like Louisa and I expected.” She shakes her head. “Not like yours is bound to be. But we loved them. They were ours.”
Her voice trails off, and agony reflects across her gaunt features. Only death has the gift for scarring a person just so.
“Your partner is dead, isn’t she?” I ask.
Grief drenches her form, the burdens she’s carried threatening to topple her. She tightens her grasps on the spout, her only lifeline in the dank and dim surroundings.
“Johnny killed Louisa?” Shayna asks. As a wife herself, she can’t imagine her life without Koda, let alone allowing someone to manipulate her into hurting him. Except that’s exactly what Bridette did. It’s as obvious as the scars painting her body. “Why… How could you help the man who’d take her from you?”
Bridette’s choked sob has her curling forward. Still no tears, no reprieve from her torment. “We wanted our children to live,” she says. “Whatever it took, we swore to each other we’d do it.”
I have the feeling this isn’t what her wife had in mind.
“Are you listening?” Bridette asks. “Do you hear me, tigress?”
Celia isn’t the only one standing before her. Bridette isn’t so far gone to think as much. But her anger isn’t aimed at us. Oh, no. It’s aimed at my pregnant sister, and it pisses me off.
“My children don’t deserve less than yours,” Bridette bites out. Dark-red blood pools in her mouth, dribbling over her dried, splitting lips. “My children weren’t loved or cared for any less.”
Pity is the only thing that keeps me from smacking Bridette. She won’t accept the consequences for her actions and is casting blame where it doesn’t belong. Celia is a good person. If Bridette had gone to Celia and Aric, they would have protected her and her family. Instead, she crossed to the dark side, no matter what it cost her.
“You love your children,” Celia says. When Bridette nods, Celia swallows hard, tears cutting lines into her cheeks. “So did the weres you helped kill tonight.” She circles Bridette, her claws retracting and protruding as she attempts to rein in her beast. “As did the witches who thought they’d return home to kiss their daughters and sons good night. You not only took their lives, you robbed their children of their childhoods and those they most loved.”
“No,” Bridette stammers. “You did. You and your child.”
Celia’s claws extend to their
full, deadly length. “You think this is my baby’s fault? You think I killed these people? How dare you. My son is destined to help the world. Not because I deemed him to be, because he was chosen.”
“Ceel.” Shayna tries to snag Celia’s arm when Celia lurches toward Bridette.
Celia breaks away, shoving her face into Bridette’s. “Until my son is born. Until he stands strong enough to face the evil that’s coming, I stand for him, and so do my sisters. We’re the ones keeping evil at bay.” Bridette shrinks away. Celia doesn’t stop. “You…all you did was help the very thing that took your wife.”
“They threatened my children!” Bridette yells, as if we somehow missed the point.
Shayna and I glance around. Bridette is being loud. It may be a tactic to lure the Nytes and help kill Celia. Mostly, I think Bridette has unraveled and no longer cares about anything. Shayna unsheathes the dagger at her hip. She’ll slit Bridette’s throat. She’ll make it quick. But neither she nor I have the heart to do it.
Neither does Celia.
“Do you want me to feel sorry for you, Bridette?” Celia asks. Her emotions get the best of her, trembling her voice and body. “I already do. I can’t imagine the fear and pain you’ve endured. But to hurt other babies so yours won’t hurt, to kill those innocents trying to come together as one… You were wrong to do what you did. Can’t you see it cost you everything you sought to protect?”
“You would have done the same,” Bridette screams at her. Her weakening state curls her inward. “Don’t you stand here and lie.”
“She’s not lying,” I snap. Chosen baby or not, Celia would never harm an innocent. “She— No, we’d find a way out.
Bridette laughs. It’s phony, with enough bitterness to grate my skin. I suppose she’s trying to demonstrate self-righteousness even as she stands naked and dying. I can’t tell if she was always like this, or if she was once kind and good. Because of her role in this mess, I’ll never have the chance to know.
“It must be nice to have each other,” Bridette sneers. She wipes her mouth irritably, coating her dirty skin with more dark fluid. “Aren’t you just lucky?”
I look to each of my sisters. “Yes,” I reply quietly. “We are.”
Celia stops breathing and falls perfectly still, a tigress in the jungle having spotted another predator in her turf.
Shayna follows her lead, raring for a fight. Her eyes dart in every direction as she leans one foot forward and prepares to pounce. They hear something.
“What is it?” Emme whispers. Her hands lift, readying to act.
“Death,” Bridette answers.
Chapter Fourteen
I don’t see the Nytes emerge. But Sparky senses them well enough.
Shadows twist and lift from the darkness, coiling around Emme and Bridette. They take shape from one breath to the next, forming into vampires more akin to Nosferatu than the sinfully beautiful creatures they’re known as.
My right hand shoots out, casting a glow and scaring off two Nytes who rush me. The closest Nyte hisses, his long tongue slipping in and out between his crooked fangs. I edge away, the light Sparky emits keeping him at bay. Celia ducks and dodges the pair of shadows who round on her. She leaps backward, landing at my side in a crouch.
Shayna spins, using the momentum to unsheathe her sword, swinging it at the Nyte who targets her.
Sharp steel cuts into the partially shadowed creature. As it takes shape, it glances down at the wound, curious like a child. The Nyte beside him pokes at the slice in the skin, moistening the tips of his claws with dark fluid. The way Shayna struck and swung, she should have cut it in half. The only thing that saved it was that it hadn’t solidified.
Sparky’s glow intensifies, stretching out into a circle. The Nytes hiss, keeping just outside the edge.
Emme and Bridette couldn’t escape. These Nytes are too fast; Emme and Bridette can’t do more than stand. Thin, knotted fingers wrap over their mouths and throats. The one holding Emme gives a squeeze. Emme winces, whimpering in pain.
With an expert flick, Shayna tosses her dagger. It spins, jetting through the translucent skull of Emme’s captor. The thing giggles, I think. His concave chest pushes in and out, and several high-pitched wheezes escape. His friends join in. I’ll give Johnny this, his kids are creepy as fuck.
Shayna’s initial attack worked against us. They’re learning our weaknesses and building one hell of an offense.
Celia’s claws protrude from her hands and bare feet. Luckily, only the side of her foot grazes mine. She waits within the protection of my light, ready to act. Shayna is at my back, flexing and relaxing her grip over the hilt of her sword as the remaining Nytes circle us.
The Nytes giggle and shove each other, trying to force the weaker of their brethren into my light. One of the smaller Nytes falls forward. My light neither burns it nor causes any damage. Still, it scampers away, frightened.
The real vampires of this world aren’t affected by light or sun. These fear something that can’t harm them. I take a chance and step toward Emme and Bridette, hoping to use their fear in my favor.
They scramble away, taking Emme and Bridette with them. I try again, Celia and Shayna moving with me.
“Let them go,” I say, putting every bit of my anger in each syllable. “Right now.”
“Or what?”
I angle in the direction of the voice, just enough to catch the owner. Anger stabs each word I say, erasing the shock I would have otherwise demonstrated when I see who it is. “Or I will fucking fry you, bitch.”
The vampire, the one I saw flirting with that Lesser witch in the hall earlier, grins. Bridette might have paved the way for Johnny to enter over time, but the Lesser witch, the one this vamp chose to sacrifice, was the final key that allowed Johnny and his army in.
The vamp rakes his gaze down my body and laughs. The Nytes join him since, well, this shit isn’t disturbing enough. “My dear,” he tells me. “Even you, so wickedly hot, can’t burn a shadow.”
I can if it takes enough form, asshole. I don’t offer him that little tidbit. These freaks don’t need to know anything more.
“What do you want?” I ask. It’s not like I don’t know. I just need time to figure things out and catch him off guard.
His sleazy features lock onto Celia. He licks his lips, taking her in. “You know what I want,” he says.
Man, this idiot is so going to fry.
Shayna presses closer to Celia. Me, I keep talking. “What will you give us in exchange?”
“Life,” he replies.
I suppose he means to sound tempting. “Is that what you offered Bridette over there?” I shake my head. “I don’t know, moron, it doesn’t look like it’s worked out for her.”
Bridette glares at me. I roll my eyes. This witch will go down kicking and screaming that she made the right choice.
“She had her purpose, now it’s fulfilled.”
“That’s some bullshit purpose,” I say. I swing my light back and forth, just to freak out the Nosferatu bastards and make like I’m the one in control. The snapdragons click their little mouths and little teeth at them when they draw too close. I grin. Maybe I am in control.
“Careful, boys,” I tell the vamps. “You don’t want to anger those little plants.”
I steal a glance at Emme. She blinks back. Yeah, my girl understands.
“You think me or Master Fate cares?” His lascivious gaze returns to Celia. “She’s all we want.”
“Master Fate?” Shayna clarifies. She looks at me. “Am I the only one who thought he said masturbate?”
“No.”
“Nope.”
Even Emme shakes her head.
The vamp does not approve of the reference. The Nytes do, cracking up in a way that does nothing to ease the tension in the room.
“Shut up,” he tells them.
They continue laughing anyway, so caught up in whatever they’re feeling they don’t notice Emme’s building power. Like the o
ther Nytes, they border on mindless, following orders of their master instead of strategizing.
“Looks to me like you’re not even in charge,” I say. “These dumbasses don’t even respect you.” I grin. “Or is it Johnny who’s laughing at you?”
“You know nothing of the master.” The vamp storms forward, his pride getting in the way of business.
He whips around, sensing Emme’s magic a little too late. “What are you doing?” he demands.
In a windstorm of movement, the rear door bursts open, and every snapdragon in the greenhouse comes at us.
The saplings, irritated from lack of water and from being yanked from their posts without permission, elongate their stems and leaves to absurd lengths, wrapping around anything they can reach.
Celia hauls Emme and Bridette away, sparing them from the snapdragons’ wrath. The Nytes who held Emme and Bridette don’t stand a chance. The saplings cocoon them, entrapping their shadowy forms long enough for Shayna to behead them. The remaining vamps scatter, vanishing beneath the rows of stands and cowering in the shadows.
Celia overturns an entire row. It crashes onto a Nyte trying to escape on the other side. Celia launches herself on him, straddling his shoulders and tearing his head off.
Hmm. Yeah. We’re supposed to be protecting her.
The snapdragons lose their shit; so do all the remaining plants. Emme holds them off by pushing them away from us and into the swarm of Nytes.
Enchanted rose bushes tear the solidifying Nytes to pieces with their deadly thorns. A thyme bush snags a fleeing Nyte by the ankles and beats him against the concrete, crushing his skull and spilling the contents across the concrete.
I’m zapping every shadow zooming past me attempting to flee or fight. My lightning shocks them, solidifying body parts the plants latch onto and punish.
Shayna is a woman possessed. She pivots from side to side, avoiding the plants reaching for her and swinging her sword with precision. Heads roll, literally, and black fluid sprays across the floor.
We’re so busy fighting the vamps and staying clear of the enchanted plants and trees, it takes me a moment to realize the real vampire is gone, and so is Bridette.
