Chapter Eight
The High Priestess Card
Hidden Influences
WHEN LUCIEN PULLED up in front of Shana’s house, Ryan stared at its menacing-looking exterior with a sense of foreboding. He knew it was absurd, but he again had the feeling that the house was alive and if he went back inside, it would never let him go.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have a chance to change his mind about staying. The moment the car stopped Shana jumped out, saying, “Thank you for bringing me home, Lucien, and good night, Ariel.”
Then she shut the door and ran toward the house. As Ryan watched her disappear inside, a chill crawled up his spine. He felt as if the house had just swallowed her.
It’s just a house, he told himself with an impatient shake of his head. Now, haul your butt out of the car and get in there, so you can put her to bed.
“I guess I’d better get inside,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
“Before you go, I want you to have something,” Lucien said. He removed the drawstring pouch at his waist. Opening it, he took out a clear, rod-shaped crystal about an inch long and handed it to Ryan.
“I know you’re concerned about Shana, but I assure you that she isn’t in any physical jeopardy. She can, however, be difficult to deal with, and the loss of her powers may make her more contrary than normal. So if you decide you need help in dealing with her, just hold the crystal and think of me. I’ll come immediately.”
An hour ago Ryan would have discounted Lucien’s declaration as delusional. Now he wasn’t sure what to believe. Tucking the crystal into his jacket pocket, he said, “Yeah, well, just in case this doesn’t work, how about giving me your phone number.”
“Still doubtful?” Lucien asked wryly. Before Ryan could answer, he rattled off a phone number.
“Thanks.” Ryan opened the door and swung the crutch out. As he stood, he said, “I guess I’ll see you two later.”
“We’ll be checking in,” Ariel said, while getting out of the backseat.
He waited until she climbed into the front before he headed toward the house. When he knocked on the door, it swung open. Obviously, Shana hadn’t shut it tightly, but that didn’t alleviate the eerie sensation that it was the house itself letting him in.
“You’re getting to be as nutty as the rest of the Sanctuary crew,” he muttered disparagingly. “You have a patient to worry about, so stop indulging yourself in bump-in-the-night fantasies and get your act together.”
The moment he crossed the threshold, however, he came to a stop and stared at his surroundings in confusion. Since he had left by the back door, he hadn’t seen this part of the house, and he had expected to be entering a traditional living room. It was apparent, however, that this room, which stretched the entire front of the house, was not used for “living.” It had an inlaid hardwood floor and vaulted ceiling. There was a spiral staircase at the far right end, and a massive stone fireplace filled the entire left wall. The stones had been laid so that there was a stone mantelpiece, as well as dozens of stone shelves running from floor to ceiling. The mantelpiece and shelves were cluttered with old bottles filled with what looked like dried plants. The only furniture consisted of two rough-hewn chairs sitting in front of the fireplace, with a matching table between them.
Shana wasn’t in the room, and he knew he should go looking for her. Curiosity, however, drew him to the fireplace, where he studied the jars. Many of them were layered with dust so thick they couldn’t have been used in years. Suddenly, he had the oddest feeling that he could take down some of those dusty jars, and he’d know exactly what to do with the plants inside them.
“You must have landed on your head when you wrecked your bike. You couldn’t distinguish dried oregano from dried catnip if your life depended upon it,” he stated dryly, as he turned away from the fireplace and again surveyed the room.
He wasn’t sure what drew his attention to the floor, but as he studied the intricate inlaid pattern on its surface, he blinked in astonishment. There was a huge pentagram built into the center of the floor, and it was surrounded by two circles. In between the two circles were strange-looking symbols.
As he studied the pentagram, he was hit with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. He could see flashes of himself sitting cross-legged in its center and performing some type of ritual that had to do with the plants. The images came and went so quickly that he couldn’t describe them. But, paradoxically, they had such a realistic quality that it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. What the hell was going on?
“Nothing’s going on. This is familiar because of all those horror films you watched as a kid,” he chided himself, irritated when the rationalization didn’t alleviate his unease. Deciding it was time he found Shana, he headed toward the hallway, careful to avoid stepping on any of the lines forming the pentagram.
As he proceeded down the hall, he realized that when he’d gone down it before, he’d been too intent on reaching a telephone to pay much attention to the layout of the house. Now, he saw that there were several closed doors on the left and no doors on the right. He was tempted to stop and look behind some of the doors to see what they hid, but he refrained. His first priority was to find Shana and get her into bed. Besides, instinct told him that he was better off remaining ignorant of the goings on in this house.
When he finally reached the kitchen it was empty, and he frowned. Where was Shana? He considered calling for her, but the majority of walls were made of stone, so he knew she probably wouldn’t hear him. Returning to the hallway, he saw that it continued around the corner. He suspected that it would lead back to the room with the pentagram, and he decided to follow it. If he still hadn’t found her by the time he’d gone full circle, then he’d resort to yelling for her.
As he entered the corridor, he noted that it was darker than the other hallways. He had become so accustomed to all the doors being on the left that he was almost on top of the one on the right before he saw it. Even then it was so heavily shadowed he might have missed it if he hadn’t heard a faint thudding sound.
He stopped and eyed the door. If Shana was in there, she either had the lights out, or the door was so well-fitted that not even a glimmer of light showed through the cracks. He listened intently for another sound. When several silent seconds passed, he was convinced he had imagined the thud. Just as he started to turn away, however, he heard it again.
Immediately, he knocked on the door. “Shana, are you in there?”
There was no answer. He was debating whether or not to look into the room, when the door suddenly opened a crack. Shana peered out at him, the light behind her confirming that the door was well-fitted.
“Ryan!” she said breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”
He arched a brow. Obviously, she was up to something, and he wasn’t pleased that it involved sufficient exertion to affect her breathing. “You know why I’m here, and you’re supposed to be in bed. Is this your room?”
She widened her eyes in a parody of innocence. “Every room in the house is mine, Ryan. This is my home, remember?”
“That wasn’t what I meant, Shana, and you know it,” he said, regarding her suspiciously. “What are doing in there?”
“I’m looking for something to protect us from Moira,” she answered. “Just go to the kitchen and have a snack or something. I’ll be with you shortly.”
“You’re coming with me now. You have a head injury, and you need to go to bed.”
“I’ll do that just as soon as I find what I need. Just go to the kitchen and wait for me,” she repeated as she shut the door.
Her dismissal was so peremptory that Ryan stared at the door, dumbfounded. Then his temper flared. How dare she ignore his instructions. He’d gone against his better judgment and agreed to let her come home. And he’d only done so because she’d promised to ob
ey his every command.
He raised his hand to knock again, but decided to hell with the amenities. If she was rude enough to close the door on him, then, by damn, he was rude enough to enter uninvited. He grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.
As he stepped inside, his jaw dropped. The room was built in a circular fashion that was open all the way to the roof. It was a good twenty-five to thirty feet in diameter, and there was a huge brick fireplace on one wall. Another pentagram was built into the center of the floor. Lining the walls were display cases and tables cluttered with objects, most of which seemed to be rocks.
On the wall opposite the fireplace was a staircase. His gaze followed it upward to a balcony on the second-floor level, where there appeared to be hundreds of books in built-in bookcases. From there, another staircase led to a balcony on the third-story level, which had more display cases and tables. The ceiling consisted of a stained glass pentagram mirroring the one on the floor. The lighting was soft, diffused, but he couldn’t see any light source.
“What the hell is this place?” he gasped, incredulous.
“Ryan, you shouldn’t be in here!” Shana declared in alarm as she suddenly leaned over the balcony railing on the second floor. “I told you to wait for me in the kitchen!”
“You promised to obey me, Shana, not the other way around. Now, I want you to come down here and get into bed,” he returned, scowling up at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Lucien said there is nothing seriously wrong with me, so I wish you’d stop worrying.”
“Well, Lucien doesn’t have a medical degree, and I do. That means I know when to worry, and your condition is serious enough to make me worry. I want you in bed, so get your fanny down here, and do it right now.”
I’m sorry, Ryan, but I can’t do that. Since I’ve lost my powers, I have to find some way to protect us from Moira or she’s going to claim my soul. Believe me, that’s more serious than a bump on the head. So you just go to the kitchen. As soon as I find a way to protect us, I’ll join you.”
Ryan started to argue, but she disappeared. He stood glaring up at the spot where she’d been. When she didn’t reappear, he glanced toward the staircase. The steps were dangerously narrow, and the only railing was located on the side where he had to use the crutch.
Damn! If he tried to climb the stairs, he’d probably fall and break his neck. Even if he did make it up them, he didn’t know what he’d be able to accomplish. There didn’t appear to be a door on that level, and he wasn’t in any physical condition to bodily haul Shana down the stairs.
“Shana, I want you to come down here now,” he stated firmly.
“Ryan, I’ve already explained that I have to find some way to protect us from Moira.” She reappeared at the railing with a huge, tattered-looking book clutched to her chest. “I’m sure there’s some type of protective object in here that I can use without my powers, but if you don’t stop interrupting me, I’m never going to find it. So, please, go to the kitchen and wait for me. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“Damnit, Shana! I’m not leaving this room without you.”
“In that case, sit down and be quiet,” she ordered. “I need to concentrate. And don’t touch anything. This is a repository, and everything in here is either sacrosanct or has been banned from use.”
Again, she disappeared, and Ryan decided that when he got his hands on her, he’d shake her until her teeth rattled. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to do that until she came downstairs. Muttering a frustrated curse, he looked around for a place to sit. There was a chair shoved between two display cases, and he limped to it and sat down. He wanted a cigarette, but he couldn’t bring himself to light one in here. It was too much like a museum.
Instead, he leaned back in the chair and studied the articles in one of the display cases next to him. There were several old cups that resembled chalices, and so many rocks that he felt as if he was in a stone quarry. What could be sacrosanct about a bunch of rocks?
He turned to look at the other display case. When he did, his elbow bumped against the crutch, which was leaning against the chair arm. It slid to the floor with a clatter.
“Ryan, are you okay?” Shana called from somewhere above his head.
“I’m fine. I just dropped my crutch,” he answered, leaning over to get it. When he did, he spied what looked like a stick lying on the floor between the chair and the display case. His first impulse was to leave it alone, but the angle at which it was lying made him believe it had fallen. Since Shana had indicated that everything in this room was important, he decided he should retrieve it.
Grabbing the end of the stick, he pulled it out. As he sat up, he examined his find, frowning in puzzlement. It was a gnarled tree branch about eighteen inches long and an inch in diameter. There wasn’t anything particularly distinctive about it. What could possibly be special about a piece of misshapen wood that could most likely be found on any tree?
“I sure as hell wish I knew why I had the bad luck to end up in this loony bin,” he mumbled, leaning back in the chair and swinging the branch from side to side in front of his face.
Now you’ve found Sanctuary. Your journey is at its end.
As the voice echoed in his mind, lightning suddenly erupted from the end of the stick. Horrified, he watched it shoot toward the ceiling. It hit the center of the stained-glass pentagram and then spiraled downward. A moment later, it hit the center of the pentagram on the floor. Then it rebounded and shot toward him, hitting the end of the stick. An electrifying surge of energy sped through the wood and up his arm. Then it exploded through the remainder of his body, making his hair stand on end and his nerve endings tingle.
When it was over, Ryan was so stunned, he couldn’t move. The energy that had coursed through him was powerful, but it hadn’t hurt him. If anything it had left him feeling strangely energized.
“Ryan, what happened?” Shana gasped as she raced down the stairs.
“I don’t know,” he said, looking at her in bafflement. “I was holding this stick, and—”
“How did you get this?” she cried in horror, grabbing the stick out of his hand.
“It was lying on the floor by the chair.”
“That’s impossible. This wand has always been on the third floor.”
“Well, it wasn’t on the third floor tonight. It was lying right there,” he said, pointing to the spot where he’d found it.
“What did you wish for?” she suddenly demanded.
“Wish for?” he repeated, confused.
“This is the wishing wand, Ryan. It will grant any wish you want. Unfortunately, it also makes you sacrifice something very important to you in return, which is why it has been banned from use. Now, what did you wish for?”
“I don’t know,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “As I said, I was holding it, and then I said—”
“Said what?” she prodded urgently. “This is very important. I must know exactly what you said.”
“I think I said something like I wished I knew why I had the bad luck to end up in this loony bin.”
“And what was the answer?”
“There wasn’t an answer.”
“There had to be an answer,” she said impatiently. “Otherwise, the wand wouldn’t have activated. What did it tell you, Ryan? Why are you here?”
“I’m here to repeat the cycle,” he replied automatically, startled by his response. He didn’t know where that knowledge had come from, but he knew instinctively that it was true.
“What does that mean?” she asked in bewilderment.
“I have no idea.”
“You must have some idea.”
He shook his head. “That’s all I know, and I’m not even sure how I know that.”
“You know it because that’s what you wished for.”
Bending to retrieve the crutch off the floor, he grumbled, “Yeah, well, if I’d known that stupid stick was a genie in disguise, I’d have asked it to transport me the hell out of here. I can’t believe I wasted a perfectly good wish.”
“That’s the least of your worries. What you need to be concerned about is what the wand will demand in return for the wish you did make. What’s important to you, Ryan? What will be the most painful thing for you to give up, because whatever it is, that’s what the wand is going to demand in return?”
He got the crutch and stood before saying, “There was only one thing important to me, and that was my bike. Since it’s already gone, I guess your wand is out of luck.”
“Oh, come on, Ryan. There has to be something more important to you than a motorcycle.”
“There isn’t, and I’m tired of this conversation,” he snapped. “I’m also going to insist that you come with me so I can put you to bed.”
“I can’t go to bed,” she objected. “I have to find a way to protect us from Moira.”
“You don’t have to worry about Moira. She isn’t any threat to either of us tonight.” Again, he was startled by his words, but again, he knew it was the truth.
“And how do you know that?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “I just know it. Now, come along. I want you in bed, and I don’t want an argument. You promised to obey me, and I expect you to uphold that promise.”
“But—”
“You’re going to bed now, Shana.”
“All right,” she said irritably.
Her capitulation was too easy, and Ryan eyed her suspiciously. He started to ask her what she was up to, but decided to maintain his peace. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t get away with it. He was going to be keeping a close watch on her, because he suddenly had another flash of insight that scared the hell out of him. Shana was in mortal danger, and he knew intuitively that he was the only one who could keep her alive.
AS SHANA LED THE way toward the kitchen, she gnawed worriedly on her bottom lip. When she first realized that Ryan had used the wishing wand, her biggest concern was the consequences. Now, she was trying to figure out how he had activated the wand. It was specifically designed to respond only to persons with magical abilities. He was a mortal. He didn’t have magical skills.
Touch of Magic Page 14
