Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

  She struggled for breath. She had to concentrate. What was the sign to which he referred? She fought for control over her thoughts. What was the sign? What was the sign? “Oh!” she cried. “Oh, no! How could I have missed it?”

  “How indeed?” Again fire flashed from his eyes, narrowly missing her tangled hair. She pulled it back and wiped her stinging brow. “Sssso,” he inquired, condescendingly, “what have you ssssurmissssed?”

  “I would have received her magic power.”

  “Exxxxactly. We have planned this ever ssssince Rowena became the ranking member. Do you remember the day, my pet? Do you remember when you first turned to me?”

  How could she forget? She’d been distraught over her sister’s position. Finally, in desperation, she vowed she’d do anything to keep Rowena from successfully leading the Select. To her glorious surprise, Daeva had visited her. “Lilith,” he’d purred. “Do you mean what you pray?”

  At first his presence startled her, but she longed to believe her plea might be answered. “Are you asking if I’d do anything to keep Rowena from being successful? To become the ranking member myself? Yes. Anything!”

  Daeva laid out his plan. Lilith could pretend to back Rowena, but she was to dispose of her sister before she released her power to her offspring. Then the power of the Select would revert to Lilith. Once done, Daeva would grant her even greater power—dark power.

  Putting aside her reminiscing, she turned to him. “Yes, I remember.”

  “You knew Rowena vowed to wait until after she bore her sssseventh child to release her power—and you knew you needed to dessstroy her before that happened.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sssso, my pet, where issss that power? Hmmm? Where?”

  She bowed. How could she have missed the obvious sign? In her excitement over her sister’s death, she’d never given it a thought. “I didn’t think,” she whispered.

  “Heh, heh, heh,” he chortled mirthlessly. “I cannot support one so shortssssighted.” As if to emphasize his words, he increased the wave of searing pain.

  “Ahhhhh!” she cried in agony.

  “Had you ‘thought,’” he continued, “you would have pressssed Dixon for information about the child when you found him in Polessssk. If you had done so, you might already have her in your grassssp.”

  “Yes, I failed. But I can do better. I beg you to give me another chance.”

  Again he increased the pain.

  Lilith’s back arched and her mouth opened in a silent scream. When he reduced the anguish, she slumped in relief.

  “Perhapssss,” he said, “perhapssss, there is a way.”

  “What can I do? I’ll do anything!”

  “Yessss, I know. You have sworn your allegiancccce to me, my pet. You no longer have the option of exercissssing choicccce. You are mine,” he whispered. “You will do whatever I assssk.”

  “Yes.” How could this have happened? How could I have lost control? In her zeal for power, she had allowed Daeva to trick her, and now he would use her however he chose. Still, she would get what she wanted . . . eventually. “What can I do?”

  “I have jusssst the plan. There is sssstill a way . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Firsssst, you shall find out all that you can from Dixon.”

  “Yes!” He would pay.

  “Then,” Daeva continued, his voice dripping with venom, “you shall kill him.”

  “Gladly.” She envisioned Dixon conceding information he hoped would save him from torture, begging for mercy, lying dead at her feet. Oh, yes! “But how will I accomplish this? I’ve no power over him except the power to band and to hold him.”

  “I shall endow you with sufficient power.”

  She smiled. An onlooker would have seen the resemblance between her smile and Daeva’s own.

  “When? When will I receive power?” She’d won him over. She was on the verge of becoming the most powerful leader of the Select ever to exist. But this leader will not exercise the power of the Good One or pursue his simplistic goals for the people. No, this leader will use the power of Sinespe, the underworld.

  The sound of Daeva’s laughter rippled about the room. “Now!” he said as the flame of his presence rushed upon her, invading and enveloping her.

  Lilith dropped to the floor, panting, burning. The flames licked at her head, her mouth, her hands. Engulfed in a torrent of agony, her body steamed.

  The screeching flames seared down her back and legs. She couldn’t breathe. After what seemed an eternity, but could not have been more than mere moments, he reduced the torture.

  Finally able to pull in some air, she gasped. “Stop! I’ll be consumed!”

  “But Lilith, my chossssen,” he taunted, “you have already been conssssumed . . . by me.”

  “I beg you to stop. I’ll die!”

  “You will not die, though you may wish you would.” He pulled back most of the remaining pain.

  “Take the rest away. Please, take it away!”

  “Hah ha ha ha ha,” he laughed. “The remaining pain will never go away.”

  “But why?”

  “Becausssse it will remind you of what I will do if you displeasssse me. What is more, it will be a consssstant reminder that I am now a part of you.”

  She sat up, one hip against the floor. “Please, Daeva . . .”

  “Oh, Lilith, trussst me. You will come to appreciate it—to enjoy it even. It will drive you to do better. It will remind you of the goal you seek—because you have some detailssss to attend to. You musssst find that child. And then, here’ssss what you must do . . .”

  Lilith rested on her plush chaise lounge, her anger assuaged, her energy spent. After Daeva left her, she’d ransacked her room. She glanced at the mess that Adele would have to clean.

  Her tantrum left a brass hand mirror shattered, shards of glass scattered about, some ground to a dangerous dust. A broken tea service spilled into an open drawer, staining the silk scarves within. Feathers floated, landing on the bedding, the dresser top, the array of shoes, the hats, the carafe of wine, then were set to flying again with each movement to the air.

  Perfume bottles splattered across the floor emitted the ghastly, overpowering smell of spices, flowers, and citrus. It was so strong it left a bitter, soapy taste in the mouth. Funny, she mused, how easily she could fool people into believing that whatever scent she wore was authentic confirmation of her having found Ehyeh’s favor.

  Rowena had done it again. She was always the favored, always a step ahead, always the seventh. Ever since she was born, she’d usurped all that should have been Lilith’s own.

  The youngest of six for some time, everyone believed Lilith was to become the leader of the first family. Her training would soon begin. Then to everyone’s surprise, Mae became pregnant with her seventh, long after others believed it was still possible. She bore Rowena—the accident—the seventh.

  “Come girls, look at the new baby!” Max had exclaimed.

  Lilith could still recall every sight and smell of that day. Her mother lay exhausted after a difficult childbirth. Her chestnut hair, now sprinkled with gray, lay in tangles, her skin a ghostly pallor. A nursemaid wiped sweat from her brow. The attending physician had been concerned he might not be able to save both mother and child; the infant was breech and the mother stressed. But at the last minute, the infant turned. Both would survive after all.

  “I don’t want to see her,” eight-year-old Lilith said as the others wrestled one another to hold and to coddle the infant, swooning ridiculously over her scent. It made her want to retch.

  Her father turned to her. “Surely, you don’t mean that. Come, meet your little sister. Just think, now you needn’t worry about all of the responsibilities of being the youngest. All you need to do is help your sister to be the best leader possible.”

  “I don’t want to help her. I want to be the youngest. I want to be the leader.”

  “Oh, you’ll change your mind when you see how
hard things will be for Rowena,” her mother whispered. “Take it from me, it’s difficult to lead the family.”

  Were they all stupid? What was so difficult? There were servants to take care of problems, people to order about. Lilith looked from one parent to the other, sneering. “I don’t want to see her.”

  “Max,” her mother said, “bring her to me.”

  Lilith’s father approached. He reached for her hand.

  She pulled hers away.

  “Come,” he said. This was no longer a request; it was a demand.

  In that moment, she knew all had changed, and she vowed she’d do anything to turn things back to the way they’d been. She would lead the first family and no one, not even that screaming, smelly infant would change that fact.

  Max guided Lilith toward the newborn. She squirmed under his touch. She looked at her sister, all pink and . . . pretty.

  Her mother stroked the infant’s cheek. “Isn’t she pretty? And smell. It is the smell of Paradise. You smelled very like this yourself once, and you will again when you come of age and find favor with the Good One.”

  Lilith said nothing. She hated Rowena. She would always hate her.

  By the time Rowena turned four, everyone was eating out of her hand. “Oh, look what a beautiful girl she is!” “Oh, see how quick she is to learn!” “Oh, what a great leader she’ll make one day!” Everywhere Lilith turned, Rowena was the center of attention.

  At twelve, Rowena’s official training began. From then on, her parents and others constantly pressured Lilith. “Lilith, you know how important Rowena’s leadership will be.” “Lilith, you must support her in all things.” “Lilith, isn’t your sister wonderful?” “Lilith, doesn’t your sister have great insight?” “Lilith, isn’t it wonderful how your sister studies about the Good One? Surely, He will be favorable toward her.”

  When Rowena finally completed her training, Mae was making plans to transfer her power to her daughter. Illness forced her to do so sooner than she’d intended. Her death shortly afterward left a young Rowena in charge of a family that was in emotional shambles.

  Now it was teachers, Oathtakers, even commoners, who would exclaim, chide, and cajole. “Lilith, you know your allegiance belongs to your sister.” “Lilith, you must assist Rowena in her endeavors.” “Lilith, what an honor it must be for you to be of service to her!”

  It was always about Rowena. But would Lilith grant her allegiance to her sister, be of service to her? She would not.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. “Come,” she said.

  Two middle-aged women entered. “Lilith!” the first exclaimed as she took in the wreckage. “What happened here?”

  Lilith reclined with her arm bent over her eyes. She removed it and looked up, scowling. “Well, Sally, it seems I’ve had a tantrum of sorts.”

  Sally straightened a picture that hung askew. Slightly overweight, she was plain looking. She wore the front portion of her waist length yellow brown hair back and tied with a bow at the top of her head, just as she’d done since she was a child. Drifting feathers, newly disrupted by the gust of air that had accompanied her into the room, blew about. She brushed at those that landed upon her gray wool dress, causing yet another flurry, like snow falling while the wind blew.

  “What is wrong?” asked the other visitor.

  “You don’t even want to know, Janine.” Lilith buried her face in a pillow.

  Janine, a near replica of Sally, but without the ever-present hair bow, frowned. “Maybe not, but this looks like trouble to me.”

  “Oh, Sally! Janine! Close the door.”

  Janine did. “Well?”

  “That witch, Rowena, has done it again,” Lilith growled, her anger newly agitated.

  “I don’t understand,” said Janine. “She’s dead. You’re the leader now. What can she do? And you know Sally and I support you.”

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “What is it?” Sally asked.

  “In a word: Rowena.”

  “But she’s dead,” repeated Janine.

  “Yes, well unfortunately, she left us with trouble.”

  “How?” asked Sally.

  Lilith closed her eyes as though trying to shut out the truth. “The child lives,” she muttered, “and Rowena released her power.”

  For a moment, there was silence. Then Janine cried, “No! That means—”

  “That I’m not the ranking member,” Lilith interrupted. “I am not the rightful leader. Well . . . not yet anyway,” she mumbled.

  “What’ll we do?” Sally asked.

  “We get Dixon to talk. We—”

  “Dixon! What do you suppose he knows?”

  “He can’t lie to you Lilith,” Janine said. “He owes his allegiance to the Select.”

  “Well, as I think on it, perhaps he didn’t exactly lie to me. He told me of Rowena’s death. I never inquired about the child.” Lilith pouted. “Oh, it never occurred to me that the child might have survived. I don’t know what I was thinking!” She stood and stomped her foot.

  “But an infant can’t lead the Select,” Sally said.

  “No, but her Oathtaker may act as her regent,” Janine offered.

  The three women exchanged glances.

  Sally traced a design in some spilled powder on the vanity.

  Janine bit the inside of her cheek.

  “You suppose Dixon is the child’s Oathtaker?” Sally finally asked.

  “Possibly,” Lilith responded. “No—probably. Which means he— Oh no, he could act as the ranking member. Then the band would be useless!”

  “But where would he have put the child? And why would he let you believe the band was effective if the child is his charge?” Janine asked. She brushed broken items off a chair and sat. “I’m not about to go back to the way things were with Rowena. Without her around we were at least able to act in our own interests.”

  “For now, say nothing,” Lilith said. “No one must know. Things do happen, you know. I’ll deal with Dixon. I’ll get him to talk.”

  “How?”

  “Rest assured, he’ll talk. I’m not without means of my own.”

  Sally and Janine looked at one another.

  “Enough for now. As to Dixon, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Lilith’s expression was grim.

  “You wouldn’t!” Janine exclaimed.

  Lilith raised a brow in response.

  “Would you?”

  “Oh, you’d better believe I would,” she growled as she ground shards of broken mirror beneath her boot.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  She slammed the door closed. Bits of plaster came loose from the ceiling. They floated down like fresh snow. She strode up the carmine red carpet to her desk.

  Gadon flinched. “Lilith, I—”

  She struck him with all her force.

  His head shook. His eyes opened wide. “But, Lilith, I—”

  Again she struck. His head snapped to the side. His lip broke open. Blood trickled down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  “You have failed me.” She uttered the exact words Daeva had said to her.

  “No ma’am, I—” He rubbed his stinging face.

  Once more, she struck. “That wasn’t a question. You have failed me!”

  “Lil—”

  “Stop. I’ve not given you permission to speak,” she growled.

  A knock came at the door. Marshall peeked inside. “Is everything all right in here?”

  “Everything is just fine, Marshall,” she said dismissively.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he retreated, then closed the door.

  Gadon turned to Lilith. He opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it again.

  “That’s better.” She looked him over from head to foot. “First and foremost, don’t you ever again call me by my given name,” she fumed, her voice little more than a whisper. “I don’t know what made me think that you—you could successful
ly stop Rowena.”

  “I—”

  “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear anything from you as yet. You’ll speak when I say so and not before. Do you understand?”

  He nodded.

  She leaned against the back of her desk, glaring. “You have failed me.”

  He said nothing.

  “You have failed me!” she screamed as though egging him on, as though expecting he would defend himself and give her cause to strike him yet again. Her red face matched the color of her dress. Her chest heaved with each breath. Her hands clenched into white knuckled fists.

  Finally, her breathing slowed, though the force of her glare never waned. “So then, suppose we start at the beginning.” She walked around her desk, pulled out her chair, and then sat.

  He shuffled his feet.

  “Now,” she said, “you may speak. Tell me how you managed to miss her.”

  He relayed the story of his months on the run. He told about the pack of grut, coming under fire, and the barrier. He told of Drake and Maggie, and how they’d conceded that Rowena and Dixon had visited them with an infant.

  “What did you do with them?”

  “Killed them, of course. I knew you didn’t want any loose ends.”

  “What sent you to Polesk?”

  “The old folks told us that Dixon and Rowena were headed there. I knew it was time to be checking in with you again, so I sent you word that we were headed to sanctuary there—that I hoped to see you soon.”

  “By which I understood you to mean that you’d been successful and were on your way back.” She glared as she chewed on her lip. “So why didn’t you get word of these events to me after I saw you in Polesk?”

  “I had no idea how to do that. I looked for you in the gardens where we used to meet. I wanted to tell you that I didn’t think you had all the relevant facts.”

  “Oh, so this is my fault? How was I to know you could be so utterly incompetent?”

  He was silent.

  “Why didn’t you stay in Polesk and continue your search from there?”