by L.H. Cosway
“What don’t I understand?” Whitfield hisses. “She might have taken the girl if Eliza hadn’t caught her. You know how important the girl is.” The emphasis he puts on that last sentence makes me tense. Whitfield knows. He knows what Rebecca is because she didn’t have a witch mother who could cast a concealment spell on her like mine could. I hold tighter onto her hand now.
This news hardens my resolve to save the both of us. I’m not going to allow anyone to hurt this girl because of her blood. She is just like me and for some reason it causes my protective instincts to kick in. Instantly, I feel the tingles in the palms of my hands. I let go of my hold on Rebecca so that I don’t unintentionally hurt her.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Eliza moans. “If Ethan won’t kill the bitch, then I will.” She advances on me, I let her get up real close before I open my palm and then slam it into her face. The sparks fly right out with the contact and sizzle into her skin. She wails and leaps away from me. The side of her perfect face melting.
“Witch!” she screams hysterically.
Both Ethan and Whitfield stare at me in horror, trying to comprehend what’s just happened.
Finally Whitfield speaks, “She can’t be a witch,” he pauses to shake his head. “We would have smelled it. She smells abnormally desirable, but still, in essence her scent is human.”
I motion for Rebecca to stand close to me now, and she does so while smiling up at me. “You’re a super hero,” she whispers, and despite everything, it makes me smile. I suppose it would seem that way to a little girl, seeing sparks fly out of my hand.
I turn to the vampires. “Stand back away from the door,” I demand, one hand still raised in front of me. “Or I swear I’ll do a lot worse than what you just saw.”
Ethan seems fascinated and furious all at the same time. Whitfield simply appears monumentally pissed off. Still, the both of them do as I say and stand away from the door. “Further back,” I tell them, and they move further into the room.
I walk hurriedly with Rebecca over to the door. “Don’t follow us, if you do you’ll regret it,” I say and flick several sparks in their direction as a final warning before I disappear from sight.
Sweat trickles down my forehead as I take Rebecca’s hand and lead her to the stairwell I’d come up. We rush down the steps, only the sounds of our feet slapping against the floor can be heard echoing all around us. I silently pray that Whitfield doesn’t decide to take his chances and come after us.
And what about Ethan? He is so difficult to read. I can’t tell whether or not he’s relieved I managed to get away. He was definitely shocked to see me throw sparks from the palm of my hand.
As we rush down the stairs, I ask Rebecca, “Did any of them ever bite you?”
She shakes her head. “No, but the scary man back there, he said he was going to.”
I nod and we continue our flight. I relax slightly in the knowledge that none of the vampires have drank from her yet. But why haven’t they? In no time at all we reach the ground floor, but when we get to the end of the corridor just before the ballroom we are stopped in our tracks. Delilah is just leaving the bathroom. She clocks us and glances back and forth between myself and Rebecca as though we both have two heads.
She gestures to Rebecca, and whispers, “Is that who I think it is?”
All I can do is gulp and nod. Delilah’s bright green eyes widen substantially.
“Okay,” she says, and she seems to be making some sort of internal decision. A moment that seems like an eternity passes, then she just steps out of the way to let us pass. I thank her with my eyes and hurry forward. We only get a few steps ahead when Delilah cries out, “Wait!”
I stop and turn around, staring at her questioningly.
Delilah visibly swallows, then pleads, “Take me with you.”
I don’t have too much time to think about what she’s asking of me. All I know is that with Whitfield in power, Delilah getting away from the vampires is probably a good idea.
“Okay,” I answer, and she sags with relief before joining us as we scurry to get out of the building. Unfortunately, getting out isn’t going to be as easy as that, because when we reach the foyer we come to a screeching halt. A massacre is taking place before our eyes. Slayers and vampires are battling it out in Whitfield’s cold, sterile entrance room. It strikes a fierce contrast with the empty, museum like space it had been when I’d first entered the house.
Finn clearly gave up on waiting around to hear from me as to Pamphrock’s whereabouts. I notice the slayer himself amid the crowd, and he’s got his bow and arrow with him. It’s a magnificent looking weapon, all black and silver metal. He shoots an arrow and it pierces the heart of the vampire who had been coming at him.
Then my eyes lock on Pamphrock, he looks like death warmed over wearing a torn white shirt that has blood and dirt all over it. There’s also a gaping wound on his forehead. Still, he’s fighting with everything he’s got. My memory rings with Ethan’s words from long ago, when he’d spoken of the dhamphirs being the best at killing vampires because they possess all of their strengths and none of their weaknesses, such as the sensitivity to sunlight.
Pamphrock displays vampire speed as he latches onto an assailant, and quick like lightening he plunges a stake into him before tossing his lifeless body to the floor.
“Daddy!” Rebecca squeals and makes to run to him, but I grab her and hold her back.
“You can’t go to him yet,” I tell her, “it’s too dangerous.”
The room looks like some kind of bizarre battlefield, and I recognise the young slayer called Danny who’d been at Finn’s house that time he got shot. I gape in horror at him as he carries out a scuffle with none other than Lucas. The vampire clearly has the upper hand as he punches the slayer right in the face and then moves in for the kill. No! I shove Rebecca into Delilah’s arms and run towards them.
My hands move of their own accord, gesturing manically all around me. The movements are familiar, like a skill I lost years ago that is now coming back to me. Eliza was right, I am a witch, just not a normal one. My hands finish with a flourish, spanning out in Lucas’ direction. The movement pushes him away from the slayer he’d been about to kill. He flies back onto the floor, like an invisible gust of wind had swept him up.
He looks around him, trying to figure out what just happened. Then he sees me run to the slayer and help him to his feet. “What do you think you’re playing at, Tegan?” he asks, his jaw tight with fury.
“Preventing you from ruining another innocent life,” I spit.
“What – how did you do that?” his eyes are clouded with confusion now, as he realises it was me who pushed him away from the slayer, without laying a single finger on him.
He doesn’t get the chance to wait for my answer because two slayers come at him at once, and he hops to his feet to fight them off. With my arm linked through the slayer’s, whose nose is bloodied and broken, I help him over to where Delilah is standing holding tightly onto Rebecca’s hand.
Shouts and cries of pain fill the huge room, as the fighting continues. Paintings and sculptures crash to the floor, unwitting casualties of the struggle. The slayer I saved from Lucas is leaning back against the wall, holding his sleeve to his bleeding nose. Delilah is holding onto one of Rebecca’s hands and I am holding onto the other. We make eye contact, and we both know that we need to get out of here now before it’s too late.
There’s too much fighting going on close to the main doorway that leads out of the mansion, so there’s no chance of us making it past there unscathed. Then my eyes lock on a side exit, nestled over on the far side of the room. I look back to Delilah and she seems to have the same idea, because she nods at me and we begin our hurried journey over to the exit.
We only get about halfway across the room when a young looking female vampire grabs onto Delilah, effectively pulling her away from us.
“Finally,” says the woman, “I get the chance to kill Cristescu’s little pe
t sister.”
Delilah winces at the woman’s words. This is clearly one of the many vamps who have been giving her a hard time because she’s a dhamphir and doesn’t belong with them.
“Get your hands off me Samantha,” Delilah warns. “Or my brother will not be happy.”
The vampire whose named is Samantha laughs. “Look around you honey, Cristescu will never find out if I kill you. He’ll simply think one of the slayers got to you first.”
The woman seems to have played on Delilah’s last nerve, because she violently yanks her arm out of Samantha’s grasp and then pushes her to the ground before leaping on top of her. Delilah reaches under her ethereal white dress and pulls a long, sharp knife from a concealed thigh strap. Quick as a flash, she’s holding the knife to Samantha’s throat.
“I might not be a vampire,” Delilah says, her voice low and threatening. “But I know how to kill and I am far older than you, Samantha. However, I’m not heartless like you are, and I will not sully my conscience with your death. I will hurt you though.”
Samantha struggles to push Delilah off her to no avail. I cover Rebecca’s eyes with both hands because I have an idea of what’s coming. With a swift and precise slash, Delilah slits the vampire’s throat and then stabs her in the stomach for good measure, though not in the heart. If Samantha had been a human she would be dead by now, but no, she will heal from her injuries. Her incapacitation will simply provide us with enough time to get away.
Delilah wipes her knife on her white dress, making a stark red stain against the pale fabric. Then she slides it back into its holster before rejoining myself and Rebecca. I sigh in relief as we make it to the exit. Unfortunately, that relief is short lived. Because the door opens, and in walks Whitfield, Eliza, Ethan and several heavily armed vampire bodyguards. We back up substantially.
Chapter Eighteen
After Me Comes The Flood
Ethan immediately recognises that Delilah and I have joined forces, because his powerful voice booms, “Step away from Tegan and the child this instant, Delilah.”
Delilah doesn’t do as he’s told her, instead her grip on Rebecca’s hand tightens and she retorts, “I have had enough of this life. I have had enough of him,” she gestures to Whitfield now. “And I will not allow him to hurt the little girl.”
Whitfield laughs and steps forward. “And what exactly do you plan to do to stop me?”
“She doesn’t need to do anything,” I interject. “If you want to get to Rebecca, you’ll have to get past me first.”
Whitfield’s eyes cut into me, and he turns his nose up like he’s caught wind of a bad smell. “Yes, there is that. Tell me dear, what exactly are you?”
“Someone who will burn your fucking face off if you don’t get out of our way soon.” I glance at Eliza, whose cheek is currently healing from earlier. I smile over at her smugly. There is so much hate in her eyes that I have to make a conscious effort not to crumple with fear.
“Why are you doing this Tegan?” Ethan asks then. “Do you hate us that much?” There’s hurt in his eyes, but he quickly masks it when Whitfield glances at him.
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper.
The fighting in the room has ceased now that Whitfield is here, and all of the vampires begin to culminate around their Governor. I almost get a fright when I look over my shoulder to find Finn, Pamphrock and about forty odd slayers standing behind me.
Rebecca runs to her dad now, and he hugs her tightly before lifting her up into his arms. In this moment he’s not a dhamphir or the leader of the DOH, he’s just a father who is so unbelievably happy to be seeing his daughter again. He mouths “thank you” at me, and I nod quietly in return.
Whitfield looks like he’s about to say something, when I hear a familiar voice echo through the room. It bounces off the walls and flows like the rhythmic beat of a drum. Rita. She’s reciting Latin, and I crane my neck to look around and see where she is. It’s difficult to see past the slayers who are crowded behind me, but when I rise on my tippy toes I finally spot her. She’s at the very back of the room, forming a circle with Alvie and Gabriel. All of their hands are joined and they are repeating one word over and over; diluvium.
“What is that witch doing?” Eliza screeches before looking to Whitfield and shouting. “For God’s sake, stop them Father!”
Whitfield doesn’t acknowledge her outburst, he seems to be trying to figure out a way to prevent Rita, Alvie and Gabriel from completing their spell. The problem is, there is a wall of slayers between the him and those he needs to get to.
He rears up, and looks over the group of vampires standing on either side of him. “My people, we must attack,” he demands.
The vampires are just about to stampede forward when I sweep my arm up and over my body. I hold it directly in front of me, my magical sparks fly out in warning. “Don’t even think about it,” I shout, maintaining steady eye contact with Whitfield.
The vampires hiss and gasp, I just need to hold them at bay until Rita finishes her spell. Although I have no clue what she is trying to accomplish, surely it’s something that will allow us to get out of Whitfield’s mansion with our lives still intact.
Suddenly Rita’s chanting ceases and a deathly silence permeates the room. Nobody even dares to breathe as we wait to see what will happen. Then I hear something far away, an odd distant gushing noise that is quickly getting closer and closer.
Suddenly, the various windows situated high up on the walls burst open, glass shatters into the room, quickly followed by massive torrents of water. Not only this, but the violent storm of liquid streams from the doorway that leads to the ballroom, quickly flooding the room. The water is two foot deep before I have even had the chance to react. I’m in so much shock that I don’t do anything until somebody grabs my hand and begins pulling me from the room and out the door.
I am vaguely aware that the person dragging me forward is Delilah, recognisable only because of her bright, curly red hair. We wade desperately through the rapidly rising torrents. It feels like I’ve been caught in the very centre of a tsunami. There are too many people trying to escape, too many bodies competing for the dwindling air supply. Delilah swiftly pushes her way forward, swimming now. I kick my legs back, and try to swim with her. Soon I’m breathing in huge big gasps of clean air as we leave the confines of the building.
We’re coasting on the gigantic slide of a wave as it spills out of the house. Bodies tangle and knock against each other. I notice that my hand is still latched onto Delilah’s. The water falls away once we are a good distance from the building. I stand, and the water trickles down my soaked body.
Suddenly Finn is beside me yelling, “Come on Tegan, we need to get out of here.” He seems momentarily confused by Delilah’s presence, but he shrugs it off and guides us quickly from the grounds of the mansion and over to a DOH van that is parked just outside on the street. I glance back at the mansion just before we leave the gates and I almost faint in surprise at what I see.
A huge, swirling capsule of water covers the roof and is spilling down around the surface of the building, plunging inside through every available entryway. A crowd of slayers and vampires alike are fleeing the place to escape the water summoned by my magic wielding friends. How the hell did Rita manage it, I wonder? I suppose it’s a perk of having a Sorcerer for a father.
Finn’s arms close around my waist and drag me away before I get trampled by the onslaught of slayers and vampires quickly hurtling toward me. Before I know it he’s slamming shut the door of his van and I’m sitting in the back with Delilah, Pamphrock and Rebecca.
“What about Rita and the others?” I ask Finn frantically as he starts the engine and tears away from Whitfield’s mansion.
“Gabriel has a vehicle,” is all he says in reply. Clearly getting his Governor off the property is his first priority right now.
Pamphrock is sitting with Rebecca in his lap, he looks at me then and his face is full of gratitude. “I can’t t
hank you enough for what you did,” he says, his voice laced with emotion.
“It’s what I agreed to do, isn’t it,” I reply quietly. I can’t get the image of Ethan’s hurt and disappointed face out of my head. It’s all ruined now, our brief moment of happiness.
Pamphrock repetitively runs his hands over Rebecca’s blond hair, as though she might disappear if he doesn’t continually remind himself that he has her back.
My voice breaks the silence when I ask, “Do you know what she is?”
Pamphrock’s brow furrows in momentary confusion before his eyes widen in realisation. “How do you…” he trails off, unable to finish. Delilah’s sitting back, watching our exchange. Pamphrock eyes her warily.
“I just know.” I answer, but I can’t help it when I continue, “I’m the same.”
His eyes go even wider now. “No, that can’t be, you’re not, you don’t smell like her.”
“My mother cast a spell to cover it.” I tell him simply. I would never be telling Pamphrock any of this if I didn’t see how much he loves Rebecca, and that love is what will prevent him from doing anything to hurt me because of what I am. Because in essence, it would be the same as hurting his own daughter.
Hope seizes Pamphrock’s face. “Do you think your mother could do the same for my girl?” he asks.
“She’s dead,” I tell him sadly, but it doesn’t deter him.
“Well, could you do it? You obviously know something of magic from what I saw you do in front of the vampires tonight.”
“I don’t know. Maybe with some help I could try.”
Pamphrock beams at me. “Wonderful! I will pay you generously for your efforts.”
“I can’t make any promises.” I remind him.
“Of course,” Pamphrock responds, and then he goes back to running his hands over Rebecca’s hair in wonder.
I break his reverie when I ask, “Do you know that Whitfield didn’t try to drink from her, why do you think that is?”
