Succession of Witches (The Familiar Series)

by Karen Mead

  When Serenus finally walked in, Sam nearly pounced on him. “Why in God’s name does every single one of us have to be together for this? You’d better have a reason.”

  “Several, actually, but mostly because I didn’t want to have to explain everything ten times. Not everything is complicated and arcane, Sam,” said the professor, sitting down in the last remaining chair. “Now, apparently since we last spoke, you’ve bonded a clan of vampires,” and with that he nodded at Eugene, “unwillingly stole and bonded a second familiar, and burned a demon’s house down. Anything else you’ve done in the interim that I should know about? You haven’t declared war on heaven yet, have you?”

  Sam turned around and slammed his hands down on the metal table, making Jay and Khalil jump. “Ser, I’m not in the mood. Cassie is missing, I have no idea how to start looking for her, and—”

  “Who’s he?” asked Serenus, pointing at John. “I did miss a lot in the last week.”

  “He’s the rat bastard who helped some other demon kidnap Cassie,” answered Khalil, cocking his head in John’s direction.

  “For the last time, I had no choice; they would have killed me if I didn’t help them,” said John deliberately.

  “Did ‘they’ tell you to let that metal monster girl cut off my head? Was that part of the plan too?” interjected Miri, rubbing her healing neck. Liam, Dmitri and Billingsly, though they looked nothing at all alike, were all giving John practically identical glares of death.

  “Wait, wait,” said Serenus, holding up his hands. “I try to pay attention, but I’m not omniscient. A recap of the last 24 hours, please?”

  In turns, they brought Serenus up to speed. John explained that he made a side income by serving as a paid blood donor to a vampire clan in a neighboring town, only to be commanded to use his connection to Cassie to help an unknown demon’s familiar kidnap her; that the familiar was a woman in some kind of strange medieval armor, and that she was somehow strong enough and fast enough to cut off a vampire’s head.

  “That’s quite a story,” said Serenus when they were finished. “I’m still stuck on the fact that there’s a hidden vampire clan over in Liddell.”

  “They’re very old, very careful,” said John. “They try to keep a low profile.”

  Eugene snorted at that, but just shook his head dismissively when John looked at him quizzically.

  “So we don’t know who kidnapped Cassie, just that they obviously have some kind of connection to this vampire clan that may as well not exist,” said Sam, agitated. He would have paced the room, but it was too full of people and vampires. “The teacher gave us a thorough description of the familiar who took Cassie, but that’s all we have. Unless you know something.”

  “I think I have what you need,” said Serenus. It looked as though his eyes were focused on something far away. “I know there was some commotion about some half-wit who was obsessed with making magical armor a while back—it’s too big a coincidence. The familiar wearing armor is probably his,” he said.

  Sam narrowed his eyes. “Who is it?”

  “That, I don’t know. But Donatello Arrigio will.”

  Surprisingly, it was Jay who responded. “That stuck up guy? He’s not going to want to tell us anything!” he said. “We’ll have to make him tell us.”

  Sam looked at the boy and truly understood, for the first time, that he was Cassie’s best friend from childhood. They had known each other from the sandbox. Even with everything that was going on, for an instant he felt jealous of that effortless intimacy that he would never know, and was surprised by the extent of his own jealousy.

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Serenus. “If the laughing stock of the Western Court managed to make a go of his magical suit of armor, something tells me Arrigio is going to be very, very interested in learning more.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  There were Angels, and from Angels came Demon and Mortals both. While Angels do not leave the side of the Almighty, Demons will dally and Mix with Mortals, creating a race of small gods. However, after countless generations of this, a new era will arrive as it always must, in the form of a woman. A woman, human but not human, will appear at a time when Hell and Heaven alike no longer remember their purpose. A woman, free yet enslaved, will appear at a time when the Heavens are Silent, yet Hell cannot hope to fill the void. A woman, helpless but powerful, will appear at a time when both faith and reason can only turn inward and destroy their objects. A woman, a virgin yet not pure, a sage yet not wise, a child yet a crone, will come when she is summoned by those who wish only to banish her.

  And from her womb will emerge a race of sorcerers the likes of which the creation has never known. The age of the small gods, and even the large gods that begat them, and that which begat the very idea of that which was begat, will be over; eventually, all that will remain will be the Mother of Sorcerers and her children, who destroy so that they may create what has never been dreamed of by even the divine dreamers. Only when all the seas are red with the blood of the vanquished and the gardens of the moon have been seeded with their entrails, will she return.

  —Book of Succession, 4:6

  Cassie sighed and closed the book. That was the eighth version of the Book of Succession she’d looked through, and each one of them had the “mother of sorcerers” passage. It was slightly different in each text, with some leaving out the part about the gardens and the entrails, whatever that meant, but the basic idea was always the same: one woman would be the source a new race of magical beings. For some reason, Bennet was convinced the passage referred to her.

  He was evasive when she asked him how he was so sure, only saying that all the signs pointed to her being the subject of the prophecy, and that he had always been told the events in the Book of Succession would occur during his lifetime. Who precisely had told him this was another question he wouldn’t answer directly.

  Instead, he’d escorted her to his library, where, next to a few more meticulously detailed nautical miniatures, he had an entire shelf full of translations of the Book. He’d even let her take a few back with her to the guest room, to mull over on her own. He had disappeared temporarily, leaving her under the watchful eyes of the Knight, who was posted just outside the door of her room.

  The armored woman had done nothing but stand outside for hours, barely moving; a guest to the house would have assumed she was a statue. Cassie had to wonder about her: didn’t she ever get bored? Was there enough humanity inside her that she even felt things like boredom? Or was there even a person in that suit?

  As though summoned by her thoughts, the Knight did a sudden about-face and entered the room. She cocked her head towards the bathroom across the hall, motioning Cassie to follow her. Cassie narrowed her eyes.

  “I can go to the bathroom by myself, thanks,” she said.

  After a pause, the Knight shook her head and pantomimed rubbing her arms and her chest. Cassie blinked. “You want me to take a bath?” she asked. The Knight nodded vigorously.

  Cassie swallowed; Bennet certainly wasn’t wasting any time trying to bring the prophecy to life.

  The guest bathroom showed more signs that Bennet had been preparing for this moment for an incredibly long time. There were dozens of fragrant bubble baths and body washes, all the better to get a girl into the mood, she supposed. After some deliberation, Cassie chose a vanilla-scented bath, lilac body soap, black cherry-scented shampoo and juniper conditioner. Maybe if she combined enough odd scents together, she could mount a smell offensive on the man.

  The Knight stood in front of the sink, watching her bathe. Cassie didn’t even ask for the Knight to give her some privacy; she knew better.

  “Are you watching me to make sure I don’t drown myself?” asked Cassie as she scrubbed the top of her head with bubbles. The Knight didn’t bother to dignify that with a response.

  Cassie found she enjoyed her bath despite herself. She was in a weird sort of limbo, dreading the rest of the night but able to appre
ciate small moments of pleasure for the time being. After dragging the process out for as long as she could, she stepped out of the bath, only for the Knight to immediately wrap a perfumed, pink towel around her shoulders.

  Am I really going to have to lose my virginity to this guy I just met? Cassie thought to herself as the Knight led her back to the guest room. I should be scared, I should be mad as hell, but it just seems too unreal. I don’t know how I feel.

  In the closet, which the Knight opened with a quick motion, there were more signs of Ben’s obsessive planning for this night: there were dozens of silk nightgowns, in myriad colors and sizes. Cassie ran her hand over the smooth fabric for a moment, then went to take out a bright pink gown. She was shocked when the Knight slapped her hand away.

  “What’s your problem?” asked Cassie, cradling her bruised hand. It had been a gentle slap, but the Knight was wearing gauntlets. “You don’t like pink?”

  The Knight shook her ponytail, then slowly, almost painfully hesitant, put her glove on a blue-green gown.

  “Whatever you say,” Cassie grumbled, grabbing the ocean-colored fabric.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The scowling face of Donatello Arrigio appeared almost instantly in the mirror. “This had better be good, considering I own a perfectly good telephone.”

  “I wanted to see your face when I tell you this,” said Serenus, jovially.

  Arrigio pursed his lips. “You do realize you’re the only one in court who can get away with speaking to me like that?”

  “Of course. That’s why I do it.”

  The whole entourage was clustered around the table in the break room, where Dwight’s mirror had been commandeered as a communication device. Only Eugene hung back, sitting quietly across the room.

  “Out with it,” said Arrigio tersely.

  “Cassandra’s been stolen again—this time, by a woman wearing a set of enchanted armor.”

  There was a moment’s delay, then Arrigio’s eyes bulged. “Are you certain? Could you be mistaken?”

  “It was a woman in full plate armor Don, apparently it was kind of hard to miss,” Serenus replied.

  “What does that mean? Who took Cassie?” Jay nearly yelled into the mirror. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, although he felt like yelling himself.

  Arrigio took a deep breath. “It was Marcus, Bennet Marcus. And either he’s completed one of the most miraculous acts of spellcraft in the last 1000 years, or he is very, very foolish.”

  “I think it’s both,” said Serenus. “He is very foolish, but I think he has finally completed that magical suit of armor he was going on about. With no small amount of help from his father, I’m sure.”

  “Explanation, please?” asked Sam through gritted teeth.

  It was Arrigio who answered. “A few years ago, Marcus submitted a report about a project he was researching—imbuing armor with enough power to create the ultimate magical soldier, something the Eastern Court would never be able to match. He asked for the help of our most experienced witches to help him craft it.”

  “And you didn’t take him seriously,” said Dwight, sitting on the table next to the mirror.

  “We didn’t. It was a pipe dream; enchanting something like that is impractical, and there is no way to create ‘the ultimate soldier’—it was just a silly, romantic notion. We told him he was free to work on it if he wanted, but the court wouldn’t support it.”

  Serenus leaned back and crossed his arms, thinking. “Now I don’t know if he’s created the ultimate magical soldier, per se,” he said. “But these are the facts: this figure was faster than a vampire, and Cassandra’s protection amulet had no effect on it.”

  “Maybe the amulet was faulty?” asked Arrigio.

  “It worked on me,” John added from the back of the group.

  Arrigio squinted. “Who the hell are you?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Serenus, waving his hand. “The important thing is, Marcus may be foolish, but he isn’t suicidal. He knows that kidnapping Cassie, of all familiars, is thumbing his nose at the court’s sovereignty. He wouldn’t do it unless he was confident in his creation.”

  “Unless he was confident that he really had created the ultimate magical weapon,” said Arrigio, bitterly. “Now we know where he lives, but we can’t risk sending anyone to take the girl back. That thing could kill them.”

  “Where is she?” said Sam. “I don’t care if the court can’t intervene, I will.”

  “I don’t care to tell you, Son of Sammael,” said Arrigio. “The last thing we need is for you to run off in your haste to rescue your familiar and get yourself killed.”

  “Tell me where she is, or else you’ll have more than just Marcus to worry about,” said Sam. He hadn’t really planned to say it; it just happened.

  “Sam!” Serenus exclaimed, shooting back a panicked look and then returning his gaze to Arrigio in the mirror. “Forget that, Don, you know he’s not in his right mind right now.”

  “I know,” said Arrigio, looking exhausted. “Let me call an emergency meeting of the board and get back to you; in the meantime, don’t move. Do nothing.”

  “That’ll be a real nice change of pace,” said Sam bitterly, turning away. Suddenly furious, he turned back to the mirror before Arrigio’s image could disappear. “Excuse me, but what is the point of you exactly? If you can’t uphold your own laws, what’s the point of having a governing body at all? You’re useless,” he practically spat.

  “I know,” said Arrigio quietly. “And that’s why I’m begging you to do nothing. This act undermines the court’s very existence, and we can’t afford to react impulsively. Please, wait until you hear from me before you move.” With that, the image darkened and was gone.

  There was a moment of quiet contemplation as they all considered Arrigio’s words. It was Eugene, from across the room, who broke the silence.

  “Never, in all my years, have I heard a demon lord beg,” he said quietly. “If they can’t find a way to get that girl back, I believe this may be the end of the court. This changes everything.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  To Cassie’s complete lack of surprise, Bennet had black satin sheets. The Knight had removed Cassie’s protection amulet, deposited her in his bedroom and then taken off, leaving Cassie sitting on the bed in her teal nightgown.

  She cradled her silver locket in her right hand, trying to remain calm. It was her last line of defense, but did she dare use it?

  She nearly jumped when Bennet opened the door. Feeling her pulse hammering in her head, she slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

  Then she burst out laughing.

  She could just barely hear him over the sound of her own laughter. “What? What is it?” he said.

  “It’s just…it’s just….,” Cassie started, then looked at him and exploded in giggles again.

  He had the most perfect abs she’d ever seen. It hadn’t been obvious when he was fully clothed, but standing there without a shirt, naked except for a pair of tight black pants, he looked like a cover model for one of those bodybuilder magazines; every muscle in his torso visible, as though chiseled out of marble. How many hours had he spent in the gym to get that body, all in anticipation of impressing a girl he had kidnapped? The sheer absurdity of it was hysterical to her.

  Bennet cleared his throat, moving towards the bed. “Well, at least you did that before I took the pants off instead of after,” he said. Her laughter died instantly.

  He grimaced. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke.”

  “I know,” she said, averting her gaze from his suspiciously muscular form. She felt feverish, breathless and afraid, but there was a part of her that was observing this whole process with a kind of ironic detachment. I can’t believe my rapist is this precious.

  He attempted to casually ease onto the bed across from her, which of course looked anything but casual. There was an awkward pause as she waited for him to move closer to her, but he stayed where he was, s
eemingly unwilling to close the gap. Finally, the waiting took its toll, and the ironic, detached part of her somehow took over.

  “So, that’s it then? You’re just going to rape me?”

  She was looking at her bare knees, pulled up to her chest, but she could feel him shift slightly. “What?”

  “Rape. You know, when you kidnap someone and make them have your babies.”

  She felt a jolt in the mattress as he suddenly stood up.

  “That’s not what’s going on here,” he said, his face carefully blank. “Cassie, you’re adhering to old-fashioned, human notions that have no meaning to us. We’re so far beyond that, do you understand? This was foretold. This is—“

  “Still rape, whatever you call it,” she said, dropping her knees and stretching her legs. Now that she’d actually said the R-word, for some reason she felt much better. “Besides, why shouldn’t I have ‘human notions?’ I’m human.”

  “Well, I’m not,” he growled, or at least attempted to growl; he lacked the proper register for a really good growl.

  She shrugged. “Congratulations?”

  His face clouded with anger and he took a threatening step forward, which made her back up involuntarily, hitting her back painfully against the headboard. Seeing her fear, he seemed confused, as though he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up in this role. He stayed at the foot of the bed, his fists balled at his sides.

  “You don’t understand, this isn’t…this is something I have to do. This is something I’ve been preparing for my whole life.”

  “I noticed.”

  “And if it’s as the Book says, do you really expect me to sit back and let the Son of Sammael fulfill the prophecy? No one wants that!” he said, sweeping his arm theatrically. “Do you want a race of necromancers for children? A bunch of disgusting, maggot-ridden corpses?” he practically spit at her.