I made a pot of coffee and was just about to fix my second cup when there was a knock at the door.
Amalie waved a white napkin through the opening from the door hanging on the chain.
I opened the door to let her in and then headed back to my empty coffee mug.
“Great, you’re already dressed. I let you sleep a little longer than I should have. Well, Cash kind of ordered me to let you get some more sleep, which we argued about for the last thirty minutes. Oh, he’s good!”
“Well, he argued a moot point, since I didn’t get much sleep in reality. I’ve been up for the last hour or so.” I grabbed the creamer out of the fridge.
“Well, make that cup to go then. Since you’re already dressed, we won’t be late.”
I put my mug in the sink and grabbed my Daily Grind travel mug out of the cabinet above the coffee pot.
“Here, let me fix that. You should probably pack a bag.” She grabbed my mug.
“Why do I need to pack a bag, Amalie?” I asked in a growl that would have made any wolf proud.
“They don’t want you staying here for a while. Hey, don’t kill the messenger, Maurin.”
“Who said that I couldn’t stay here? This is my apartment.”
“Really, Maurin? Your front door doesn’t even stay closed without the chain on, and even if it did, it wouldn’t stop anyone. What about your neighbors?” She acted as if she’d won before I’d even had a chance to put up a fight.
“You could fix and ward my door if you wanted to. Don’t act like you don’t know the spells.” She was right, of course. My broken door wasn’t the issue. I didn’t want to bring trouble to my neighbors’ doorsteps. It had been a close enough call last night. Things could have been a lot worse. Between Matthison ready to shoot it up like the OK Corral and the Inquisitors throwing bolts of lightning around, it’s a miracle my neighbors hadn’t been caught in the crossfire already.
Without saying a word, I turned on my heel and stormed off to my room. I dug out my old swap meet army bag from the bottom of my closet and filled it with enough clothes to last me a few days, followed by my brush, deodorant. I picked up my sword, slinging it over my shoulder. After countless hours of practice over the last couple months, it had become an extension of my body. It was so much a part of the person I was becoming that I almost felt naked without it. I’d have to invest in a whole lot of trench coats or get over the sword separation anxiety because I was pretty sure there wasn’t a permit to carry a broadsword. With one last look around, I checked to see if there was anything else I should take with me and couldn’t think of anything. It was just for a few days. I was coming back. So why did it feel so permanent?
After slipping on my wool pea coat, I grabbed the army bag and told Amalie I was ready to go. She was waiting for me with my coffee at the front door. She handed off the cup as I started down the steps to the parking lot. From the second floor landing, I could hear her fixing my door. I couldn’t help smiling, despite the sadness I felt about my apartment no longer being my safe haven. The only constant in my out-of-control life up to this point had been my home. My refuse from the craziness constantly swirling around the Council, somewhere I could pretend to be normal, even if it was only for a few hours. It seemed that was over. I was virtually homeless and at the mercy of my friends for a place to sleep. After she fixed my door, Amalie caught up with me, and we walked out together.
Cash was leaning against the side of his truck when we came out. I stopped on the passenger side, hoping a ladder was going to drop out when I opened the door. With the lift and huge tires he had on this pick-up, I was sure I would need one. Amalie hopped in and held out a hand, so I grabbed a hold of her and climbed in.
The ride back to Mahalia’s was quiet. There was no point filling Amalie in on the way. She’d hear all the gory details soon enough, and I just really wanted some quiet before the barrage of questions that waited for me. The Council would be expecting a full report. I would have to answer to Agrona for being taken by humans, Roul would want a tactical briefing, and Mahalia would be dissecting every detail for clues leading to the Inquisitors’ real location. All I could think about, however, was the brand on my neck and what it meant. I caught myself tracing the raised skin with my finger more than once during the drive.
Once again, the familiar gables came into view. I was sick of coming over here. Cash pulled up in front of the witches’ headquarters, which had once been the home of one of the men who had condemned them so many years ago. You had to give her credit. Mahalia had a sense of humor. We got out and walked up to the front door. Amalie walked right in. I hesitated for a second, and Cash gave me a little shove.
“Move your ass, Maurin,” he said, but I could tell by his tone that what he meant was, ‘Go ahead, it’s okay.’
I couldn’t figure out why he was being so nice to me. I certainly hadn’t given him any reason to do so. We hadn’t exactly hit it off the last time he had been here, and openly challenged Roul for Alpha of the Salem pack. Our relationship had been based on mutual dislike, but somewhere along the line we had formed a truce and right now, walking back into Mahalia’s house, I was glad he was my frenemy.
I saw a few faces I knew in the crowd that had gathered inside Mahalia’s house. Juno and Phallon were sitting with Oberon and Graive. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Amalie was headed their way, and I couldn’t help feeling a sense of betrayal. Graive had managed to ingratiate herself not only with Oberon, but with the rest of the coven as well. Of course they’d see her as an ally and friend, here to help rid the coven of their enemy.
I wish I could say I felt the same way. It wasn’t just because of Oberon. There was something off about her, and it was more than the necromancy. She wasn’t walking into the territory of the strongest vampire family on the East Coast to help the coven out of the goodness of her heart. I decided to find out just what her motives really were.
I left Cash to mingle with the witches and to search for Mahalia. She was sitting in her study with the rest of the Council. As usual, the conversation died as soon as I walked into the room.
Agrona’s power hit my mental shields before her words hit my ears, and I instinctively dropped my gaze. I bore the scars from the last time I went up against Agrona, and I was still too tired to fight with her tonight. She sat in the arm chair beside Mahalia’s desk as if it was her throne, regal in simple black pants and an emerald-green, off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater.
“It would seem that once again we are to be entertained with a tale of your exploits, Maurin,” Agrona said.
I unbuttoned my coat and leaned on the door frame, keeping some distance between us.
“Yeah, well, I was hoping that Mahalia would be the one to lead story time tonight. She hasn’t been real forthcoming with information so far, and I think an explanation is a little overdue. You can start with what the hell the brand on my neck means, Mahalia,” I didn’t bother hiding the anger and frustration in my voice.
I thought Agrona would squeal with delight at my irritation with Mahalia. As far as she was concerned, too much of my attention had been given to the coven. She didn’t care that we had been trying to hone my new abilities. I was not progressing quickly enough under the tutelage of the witches, according to the vampire queen and her court. It was obvious she had plans of her own for me.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Maurin.” Mahalia opened a dusty old book on her desk and turned back around to face the rest of us.
“This is the Clavicle. It is more commonly known as The Key of Solomon the King. Since the fourteen-hundreds, along with the Malleus Maleficarum, or Hammer of Witches, it was one of the greatest weapons the Inquisitors had. As each generation died, and the average age of the Inquisitor fell below thirty, the old traditions and methods of their organization were lost.” The old crone stroked the book’s spine.
“The scholars and old texts had been abandoned for soldiers and a more military style of attack. Finally, witches were
able to regain their foothold in society. With each new century, we were able to gain acceptance as midwives and healers. The Shift, however, proved to be both a blessing and a curse, with both light and dark magic being brought completely out in the open.’ Her fingers tightened, knuckles white as she gripped the tome tighter.
“It would seem that despite all of the world’s talk of progress, it has lost some of its tolerance. Since the Shift, we have seen an increase in attacks on covens of Earth and Blood magic users alike. Based on the mark on Maurin’s neck, it would seem that the Inquisitors have rediscovered the Key.” Mahalia wasn’t finished.
“The mark on your neck is from the Fifth Pentacle of the Moon and a symbol of Lachadiel. The Inquisitors would call upon him to aid in the destruction of their enemies and against all phantoms of the night. Had they been successful in leaving the other message on your body, I have no doubt that it would be from Psalm LXVIII. ‘Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered.’ Alive or dead, you’ve fulfilled your purpose to them. They’ve proven their strength by taking you, and you have delivered the message that they have the Key.”
“So it’s not some anti-witch sentiment? It’s more like a ward of protection? That my enemies will be destroyed? How does that help them? Shouldn’t they have placed that mark on themselves as a team tattoo or something, instead of branding it on their enemy?”
It seemed highly unlikely the Inquisitors would do anything for my benefit. Not after the way they’d treated me on the island.
“It is most definitely meant as an anti-witch sentiment, but I suppose it could be seen as a ward of protection as well. As for any benefit to you, as with all magic, the power is in believing. Without faith in the Key, and the belief that it was delivered by divination to Solomon, there is no benefit to having the mark on your body whatsoever.” Mahalia pretty much confirmed my suspicions.
That might be true, but I couldn’t help feeling the mark might indicate something more sinister. I know it was intended as a threat to the coven, but I was the one stuck with the mark for the rest of my life, and I wasn’t even a witch. So as far as I was concerned, it might represent something far worse than a mere symbol of an angel who destroys your enemies. If the raised eyebrows around the room meant anything, I’d say I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
The next couple of hours in Mahalia’s study were spent going over and over what happened outside my apartment and on Winter Island. The questions were relentless and exactly what I expected. After telling the story for what seemed like the thousandth time, Agrona threw me a curve ball.
“So the human stood with you rather than the Inquisitors when he was given the chance?” She was clearly puzzled by this fact.
“Of course,” I couldn’t help feeling insulted Matthison’s behalf. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“He’s a human, and it has been my experience that, given the choice, they will choose to side with other humans.”
“He’s my friend. He wouldn’t turn on me,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Have you never been betrayed by a friend? We should all be so lucky.” Agrona picked a speck of lint of her top.
“Of course, I have been betrayed by friends, but never by Matthison. He was a friend to me when others treated me like a leper. He gave me a job and a purpose.” I was surprised to hear a sentiment escape my lips that was so similar to the one I had been so angered by during my argument with Matthison.
“Oh dear, I have offended your all-too-human sensibilities. You are so very young and still have so very much to learn. Humans are every bit as shrewd and ruthless as any vampire. They are murderous, hypocritical, deceitful little creatures.” She paid more attention to her fingernails than to me.
I was getting used to the brush off but not to the poor treatment of a friend who almost gave his life in a fight that wasn’t even his.
“Yeah, well, it seems like you have a lot to learn about friendship and the honor and loyalty shared among cops.”
“Yes, but you’re not with that little task force anymore, are you?” Her voice was full of an irritating and smug satisfaction.
“Matthison doesn’t see it that way. Like I said, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
Agrona gave Kedehern a sideways glance before abruptly changing the subject, as if she had the undead form of ADD.
“We are wasting moonlight. My king and I shall attend to vampire affairs. Mahalia, I expect by tomorrow night that you will be ready to present your plan of attack. If in fact they have the Key, this faction of the Inquisitors must be completely removed from Salem.” Agrona stood; the discussion was over as far as she was concerned.
“And if they don’t have the Key?” Mahalia held out a hand to stop the vampires from leaving.
“Worried you’ll get a little dirt on your precious soul, Mahalia?” Agrona mocked. “In all the years that you’ve been on the Council, not once have you had blood on your hands. Did you think that Roul and I would always be the ones to do it? And now, Maurin. Will you let her kill for you as we have done? As you were content to do not three months ago?”
“The coven has more than fulfilled our end of the Council agreement over the centuries. We have stood side by side with wolves and vampires on every battlefield.”
“Yes, throwing up shields and tending wounds. You were never actually striking down your enemies. And now they’re back because you failed to eradicate them the last time. Do you honestly believe that you will make it in this world without getting a little smut on your soul? I’m sure you could conjure something up to rid yourself of the vermin without assistance from a vampire or a Necromancer. I trust that you will maintain our agreement. Time is of the essence for your friend, Mahalia.” Agrona’s eyes swirled with power, her expression darkening.
She went all vampy whenever she made threats. Not that she ever made idle ones.
“We have to find them first, Agrona. They’ve done a damned good job of cloaking themselves,” Mahalia’s voice softened, the fight in her quickly snuffed out by the vampire queen’s reminder of their agreement.
“Well, then, I suggest that you not waste a minute of daylight tomorrow,” Kedehern placed a hand on his wife’s lower back, steering her from the room.
And just like that, the vampires were gone. I sat down in the chair Agrona had just vacated, surprised to find it warm. She must have fed recently. Roul stirred in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, and not because of the furniture. “I don’t agree with Agrona very often, hardly ever actually, but I’m going to have to now, Mahalia. There are pack matters to be dealt with.”
Olwyn placed a hand on Roul’s forearm in an effort to calm him.
He jerked away. His wolf was closer to the surface than I’d seen in a while, but Roul was still in control. “No, Olwyn. I will be heard on this. My challenger cannot be allowed to linger in Salem any longer than he already has. Should I give him all the time he needs to gain favor with some of our wolves? I’m running out of things for him to do, and I don’t think that Maurin will tolerate Cash following her around much longer.” He looked to me for confirmation. “I’ve already gone beyond the protection that I offered. I called in help the last time we had an invasion and look what it got me. No. There is pack business on my plate, and the pack alone will have to deal with it. We will have no help from the Council. I won’t sacrifice the good of the pack or risk being weakened before a challenge.” His shoulders slumped a little. Strong words but his body posture suggested he still felt bad about abandoning the coven in their time of need.
“I’m sorry, Mahalia, we have been friends and allies a long time, but I can’t put the coven before my own pack. If the Inquisitors have not been eliminated in the next twenty- four hours, then you’re on your own.”
Mahalia looked defeated. The odds were stacked against her, and she was losing valuable allies. We had only been able to stop the Morrigna because of our unified forces. I didn’t know enough about the Key to say whether or not the c
oven could defeat the Inquisitors without the help of the weres and vamps, but if it came down to a fight then I’d feel a hell of a lot better with them beside us.
Olwyn looked to her husband and then to Mahalia. The silence between them grew heavy. “Roul, I’m sure Mahalia understands the pack’s position, but we can wait until she presents her plan tomorrow night before abandoning our friend.”
“Fine, I will wait to hear your plan before withdrawing my wolves, but I make no promises on our involvement. Maurin, as friend of the pack, I offer you shelter and protection. We’ll be leaving shortly if you care to join us.”
“Thank you, Roul. I understand your position fully and appreciate even a twenty-four-hour extension on your offer of protection. However, given the Inquisitors’ previous interest in Maurin, I think it best that she stay here, behind the safety of our wards.” Mahalia held out her hands, palms up in a placating gesture but her tone brooked no argument.
“The vampires are not the only ones who tire of you monopolizing Maurin,” Roul muttered as he passed Mahalia on his way out.
“A few of our wolves will be staying behind. Maurin, you remember Grayson? Should you decide to change your mind and no longer wish to stay with the coven, let him know. He’ll bring you to our house,” Olwyn nodded in my direction as she followed her husband out of Mahalia’s study.
Normally the fact that no one had bothered to let me answer the question about where I wanted to stay would have me pitching a royal bitch fit, but as I watched Roul and Olwyn leave, I kept my mouth shut. See? Personal growth.
It wasn’t the time for me to be complaining about how no one listens to me or gives a rat’s ass about what I want. Besides, we’d had that argument a thousand times already. Mahalia was in deep shit. The Inquisitors were closing in, and her allies were rolling out.
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