by Imogene Nix
An unknown witch was beyond dangerous, he knew. If their powers weren’t contained and used, they became unstable. Magic built within the cells of a witch where it rapidly multiplied. Eventually, the cell walls could no longer contain the charge, which would then course wildly through their bodies. Depending on how strong the witch was, the body would continue to fight it, as if it were an infection. But around them things would happen.
“I’ve seen this before.” He turned away, breathing deeply as he fought to control his response to the doctor’s pronouncement.
“I would imagine you have. More than once.”
He spun back. The truth couldn’t be ignored. The body of this woman would eventually be unable to contain the magic and would simply explode. Killing her. It almost always killed those within near proximity, too.
He closed his eyes. Getting her into a nest wasn’t quite as simple as it sounded. They would need to find a witch with sufficient experience to work with her. Right now, with the upheaval caused by the creation of the new nest— He broke off the thought. Perhaps Bertha? She will be joining the new nest. She is sufficiently accredited. He needed to get help for this woman. That is, if it wasn’t already too late.
Memories rose—scents and sights he’d hoped were long gone assailed him. “Xavier’s household… Bertha is already there. We can find her a spot.” Once more, he found his equilibrium.
“It’s full to bursting right now. We have all the ones that will transfer to your nest on the full moon.” The doctor glanced at Hope.
“We can’t leave her free. She’s a danger to herself and others.” Hope was frowning as if thoughts swirled through her mind.
He turned away as memories hammered at him. Hope was right, of course. But she’d never seen the results of the loss of an unknown witch. Not like he had. He’d seen the carnage left behind when their bodies could no longer contain the magic that grew inside them.
In the centuries past, Javed had found bodies. Sometimes their remains had been left, discarded in the sand. He had seen it many times both as a human and as a vampire. For many months he’d been plagued by nightmares after finding what was left of them, when they’d advanced on an encampment. The scents that had assaulted him, the copper tang on the air and sickly sweet— He stopped the mental replay, shying away from the memories. He’d never forget the sight of the remains being devoured by the carrion-eating birds.
He glared back at the doctor. “We will find a place for her. I will have her join my nest after the investiture. No one deserves to die like that.” The truth was, until they could find some way to train her, she was a ticking time bomb.
“Fine, Javed. That’s what we’ll do. Please make the necessary arrangements.” Hope spun away on her heel, no doubt concerned about the other members of the nest. He wished he could explain what he felt. But after eight hundred long and lonely years, he both questioned and respected the instincts that screamed he needed to protect the unknown woman.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, searching for his small cellular phone, and made a quick call. Javed turned back to the doctor. “Stabilize her then I’ll take her to the nest.”
The doctor bowed quietly and set about his task while Javed kept watch. The needle the doctor plunged into her arm carried a sedative that would keep her unconscious until she was within an active circle. The small amount of blood the doctor drew glowed in the dim lighting, which was gradually being restored.
“See how it glows? Her magic is almost uncontainable, now. The woman must have suffered greatly in the last little while. It’s a wonder she hasn’t been hospitalized or at least under a doctor’s care.” The doctor moved swiftly, checking her over.
He listened to the muttered imprecations until a guard appeared at the door. “We are ready for you.”
He nodded tersely. Even as he stalked toward the woman, the doctor stayed him. “You need this. If she’s likely to wake before you get her into a circle, inject all of it into her. It will neutralize her…”
Neutralize…? “No. I won’t use it.” His stomach curled wildly.
“It won’t kill her, just keep her body in a form of artificial stasis. Long enough for a decision to be made or a high witch to get to you and her within a circle… Before…”
His mind stopped. For just an instant he imagined the situation. “It won’t come to that.” But he accepted the syringe without another word. He knew he wouldn’t use it, though. He’d felt a subtle connection to her. An awareness that he knew he couldn’t destroy. It carved his insides up, flaying him deeply, that one woman—one he didn’t even know—could tie him up in knots like this.
He thought longingly of Kharisma, and wondered if she would join his nest. She was a capable doctor and experienced warrior. He’d enjoyed a pleasant but recently ended interlude with her. She’d given him a sense of belonging for the short while. It had been easy-going, with no strings attached. But sadly she had recently found her life partner and their connection had fizzled away, leaving him once more alone. He hadn’t felt this confusing sense of connection with her.
He slid the cold glass and steel syringe into his pocket then carefully scooped up the woman. She weighed next to nothing. He noticed the dark bruising beneath her eyes. Her skin was pale, as if all her blood had drained away. A sure sign the magic was winning.
“We need to get her back to the nest.” Urgency clawed at him as he strode through the doorway.
The guard at the door snapped to attention before slipping in behind him. Javed cradled the woman, wondering what in the hell was going to happen next.
* * * *
Celina woke as cold skittered through her body. Shaking, she tried to turn. There was a roughness beneath her fingers, the indentation capturing her attention. It felt like a brick, even though the surface had a worn feel to it. Celina opened her eyes to see a dim room, dungeon-like, with high ceilings and stone flooring that gently sloped to a wall. It was also of dark stone. Wherever she was, it wasn’t anywhere she’d been before.
“Where am I?” Her voice sounded thin and thready and she shook, as much from the chill as from the nervousness that flooded her system.
“So, you’re finally awake then.” A woman’s voice, stern and cold, broke the silence and she glanced up. The walls were decorated with sconces, lit with small flames and a fluorescent light glowed above her head. But even as she moved, the pulse of pain slithered through her, stealing her breath.
The mechanical light dimmed and the flames in the metal holders danced but unlike the warehouse-style fluorescent lights, they remained glowing, saving her from total darkness.
A pink barrier sprang up around her, misty and ethereal. Celina tried to shift away from it but as she brushed up against it, it seared her and she flinched away.
“Stay still, silly girl.” She turned her head sharply in the direction of the voice. A plump woman with gray hair sat on a high wooden stool beside the man who had been with the doctor.
He must have abducted me. She willed her head to settle so she could find a way out of there. The need to stop the painful pulsing in her head warred with another need. The one that said she needed to find out where the hell they’d stashed her.
“Now that you are awake we can begin,” the woman spoke again, thumbing through some old book, its edges creaking as she turned the large yellowed pages.
The man gazed at her silently and she shook. His lips flattened and his eye contact remained unwavering.
“Where am I?” This time her words were little more than a whisper, yet they echoed in the cool damp room.
“All in good time, my dear. Now, the question is who are you and how long have you had this power?”
Confusion filled her. Power? What was she talking about? “What the devil are you talking about? My name is Celina. Celina Wurst. Now why have you kidnapped me?” She couldn’t contain the fear that rose in her voice. The nerves in her body jumped and danced with every movement of the fires that illuminated t
he room.
“You weren’t kidnapped. You were brought here for your own safety.”
This time Celina threw a contemptuous glare at the woman who kept flinging nonsensical ideas at her. “Right. Like that’s believable. I’m not a vampire. I don’t belong to a nest, so you have to let me go.” Celina injected every ounce of bravado she could into the words, then slumped back, spent, onto the floor.
This time the woman stood and advanced toward the pink light. She waved something that she was sure was a knife around and a section of the pink light disappeared.
Celina gulped in her fear. “What are you going to do…?” A knife. Is she going to cut me? “Please, don’t hurt me.” She tried to cower away.
The woman stared at her, then she rolled her eyes. “No, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s an athame. Do you know what that is?”
Celina shook her head, sure her brain wobbled around in her head.
“It’s a knife, used in witchcraft. As for letting you go… We can’t. You’re dangerous at the moment. To yourself and everyone around you. Your power is unstable. Now what do you know about witchcraft?”
Celina scooted back. “Witchcraft? What are you talking about? I’m just a regular person. Now, let me out of here. Please?”
The man she knew was a vampire pushed away from the wall, stalking toward the pink light. “Let me, Bertha.” She watched him, his walk slow and fluid. She shivered even as fear coiled within her. “Celina, you’ve been ill lately, haven’t you?”
She nodded slowly.
“Your head, it hurts. Pulses?”
“A little.” She refused to tell him anything much until she knew where he was going with this.
“We believe you are an unknown witch.” She nearly laughed at his words, but his eyes were grave. That alone sobered her. “You are dangerous until you can either control your powers or…” His words died away.
A lump lodged in her throat. “Or what?”
He spun around. “Or until your body can no longer contain the power that runs through your veins and you die. Possibly killing many other innocents at the same time.”
“Oh. Ha ha. I love a joke as much as the—”
His face hardened and fascination rose. The play of lights on his finely chiseled features caught her attention. Then she sobered again. He believes what he is saying!
“It’s not a joke. Lights go out around you. Electrical equipment fails or blows up. Cars seize around you. It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The power that you can’t contain, it’s growing? It’s bleeding out through your pores. Unless we can contain it…” He stared hard at her and she could see the desolation in his eyes.
“I’ll what?” She whispered the words, wanting desperately to flee from the pronouncement he was about to make. On some level she knew it wasn’t good news he was about to share, yet she stayed still.
“Then your body will erupt, causing a massive magical explosion. It will kill you and possibly hundreds of others. Just like a magical mushroom cloud.”
She stilled. Explosion? Not quite what she’d expected.
“That’s why we brought you here. It’s not yet too late, but you have to learn to control it.”
She whipped back to face the woman, who nodded silently. Now there was no amusement or anger on her face—just sorrow.
Celina shook her head. “No. This is a trick. Some silly thoughtless and unkind prank. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Even as she threw the words out, she knew it wasn’t a trick. He knew her symptoms. Her mind laughed raucously at the ridiculous notion yet that instinct that had served her since childhood told her he was in earnest.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “If, and only if, this is correct, then what do I have to do? How can you save me?”
“My dear, we teach you to control it. And you will have to be absorbed into a nest.”
“No. No, I don’t want that.”
The woman shook her head. “You don’t have a choice. You will be a known witch. As such, you will be subjected to the laws of our Conclave Paramount.”
“What? Conclave who?”
“Dear, we’re wasting time. Now let’s see. If I drop my casting circle, can you control yourself for a little bit longer?”
“I’ll… I’ll try.” And she could also try to escape if it got too much.
The woman rose, stalking closer to her. Celina watched her move, her stomach tied in knots as she cut at the pink barrier and stepped inside. “Now, let’s see what you can do.” With a few words and a quick step from the large woman the section of barrier rose again.
* * * *
The night of the investiture crept up on them, like a thief. Time ticked away and Javed remained busy, though always aware of the redheaded wraith who’d joined their ranks.
Javed had petitioned for her inclusion into the new nest and Xavier had granted his request, interceding with the Conclave. “I honestly don’t know if I should be thankful or not.” Javed’s muttered words were tinged with a hint of confusion.
He’d watched her silently as she moved up and down corridors, following the high witch Bertha. With some effort Bertha had coaxed more information out of her, including the fact that she’d been a fosterling. Each time he considered that fact, he frowned. It always amazed him that humans, with their gift of reproduction, could cast their children aside like used rags.
He steered his mind away from the negative thoughts. They’d also learned she was qualified with a business degree and had been working as an insurance assessor with one of the large banks. A skill any new nest could certainly use.
He stared into the mirror as he dressed in his traditional garb and grimaced. It had been a long time since he’d worn anything that wasn’t Western-centric.
He looked at himself critically. He’d already donned his sirwaal and thawb, which brushed against his ankles. The white accentuated the coffee tones of his skin, but it felt alien to him after centuries of wearing Western pants and shirts.
He tugged on the ghutra and agal. “This doesn’t feel like me anymore.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that, my friend.” Xavier clapped him on the shoulder with his hand as he stood beside him. “And I honestly still don’t get how you could have fought dressed like that.”
“Xavier, times were so different then. But then, so was war.” Memories scrolled like faded films of long ago battles and the waves of knights he’d met. It was after the battle for Acre that his own life had changed. It was there he’d met his sire. Of course Philippe was now long gone and times hadn’t stopped still. Now he would be the first master of a new nest. “It still seems so unreal to me.”
He slipped on the mashlah and inhaled deeply. Scents of citrus and spices filled the air, stirring his senses and calling up long-dimmed memories.
“You are ready, my friend?”
Javed bowed low to his friend, one last time. Then he followed Xavier into the hall. Javed felt himself smiling slightly as the small lights shone on the steps leading to the entrance to the hall. Xavier had had the lights installed for Hope before she became a vampire. When Xavier had prepared to give the order for them to be removed she’d asked him not to, so she could use them as a tangible memory of her humanity. Humanity lost would be the pattern of the night, he knew.
This would be his last time in this corridor, unless he visited as an equal. Although it had only been home for a short while, he felt the loss of familiarity keenly.
As they opened the door he started. A sharp cry filled the air and he had to stop and absorb the reality before continuing his journey toward the gardens where the ceremony would take place.
A full moon hung in the sky, a round white orb that had for centuries become the only illumination to brighten their existence. It was appropriate that major ceremonies revolved around it, he thought. Then he laughed at the touch of whimsy.
He walked briskly, the swish of cloth filling his hearing as he cleared his mind in preparation for the c
eremony ahead. Each was different, planned to show the change from nestling to master. Each ceremony included aspects of their human life and their new vampiric existence. It was, essentially, the ceremonial cutting of the ties that bound them to their past.
Cressida waited for him, dressed in a long gown of silver and blue, a circlet of flowers adorning her long and unbound blonde hair. He focused as he approached her. “Javed of the Tudor nest, come forward.” She extended her hand to him and he took it, realizing that he was shaking.
“Mistress of Life, I come beseeching thee for life and sanctity.” The traditional greeting tumbled from his mouth quickly but she winked and the pressure building within his chest abated a little.
“You are a good and honorable servant to me and mine. What petition would you ask?” her voice rang out.
The nest members and guests waited in silence during the ancient and powerful ceremony.
They would give their affirmation soon enough. If they consider me worthy. He ignored the whisper of his psyche and concentrated on Cressida. She stood on a small wooden dais, watching him intently.
“I would ask that you grant us, those who come before you, service and safety.” He gulped, the power in her words rushing over him. Her eyes shone in the moonlight while the scent of roses and honeysuckle filled the air.
Xavier strode forward, dressed in the black garb of his own culture. With a low bow, he offered obeisance to Cressida as the most senior member of the Council and the only one with the power to carry out the ceremony. “I vouch for this servant. He is good and honorable. Above all he’s loyal to those of my nest. He is deserving of the title of master.”
She bowed formally to Xavier, before she removed the sword from the scabbard from his hip. It came free with a hiss, and she held it aloft so that the light of the moon glinted on the wickedly sharp blade.
A fluid motion to his left saw Hope step toward Cressida, the large ceremonial goblet of chased silver held in her hands. She winked, settling his nerves, as the moment of no return arrived. Once the goblet was transferred to Cressida, Hope took her place beside Xavier.
