Shadow Descendant (Descendants Book 1)

by L. D. Goffigan

  Alaric's eyes darkened, and she could see him shuttering himself away. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened.

  "There are things about me you don't know."

  "Because you won't tell me."

  "Naomi, you almost passed out. Now isn't the time to delve into my past."

  He leaned in to kiss her firmly on the mouth.

  "Rest."

  She glared after him as he left the room. The swell of lightness and happiness she'd felt this morning had evaporated. Just when it seemed like she was getting close to Alaric, he erected a wall to prevent her from closing the gap.

  Later that day, Naomi sat in the center of the courtyard, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, her breathing focused and steady. The others had left her alone to practice. After breakfast with the others, she'd moved out to the courtyard. Madalena had told her of several more Locator spells to practice, but other than that, she was left to her own devices. It took several minutes for her to shutter away the memory of her lovemaking with Alaric, and his subsequent refusal to tell her about his past, from her mind.

  She drew air into her lungs, luxuriating in the light breeze tickling her skin. As if heeding her pleasure, the breeze seemed to pick up; she dimly realized that she had caused it. As a witch, you are closer to nature, to the elements, Madalena had told her during one of their training sessions. All you have to do is learn to communicate with them. They want to heed your desires.

  She focused on the faint whispers in the back of her mind, the whispers that had not left her since Alaric's balcony. She braced herself for the whispers to increase, to become unbearable, but they remained unchanged.

  Reveal yourself to me . . . she thought, before repeating one of Madalena's Locator spells, in the ancient language. Exceli manato.

  The whispers went silent. She stiffened, wondering if she'd done something wrong.

  And then the whispers flowed through her again, this time at a rapid pace. It was as if there a million whispers coming to her, most of them unintelligible. She forced herself to remain calm, to not give in to the chaos in her mind, until she saw an image. She focused on it, allowing the image to burn into her brain.

  When she opened her eyes, her heart battered frantically against her ribcage. She leapt to her feet and raced out of the courtyard.

  She found Madalena, Alaric, and the others gathered in the study. They all turned when she entered. Alaric rushed to her side, looking down at her with concern.

  "I know where the Stone is," Naomi whispered.

  Chapter 21

  Alaric's entire body went rigid at Naomi's words. He helped her to a chair while everyone gathered around.

  "It was in some sort of basement or cellar—with Raphael."

  "Any more details?" Madalena pressed. "Was there anything distinctive you noticed?"

  "There were clay sculptures in the room. Fertility goddesses," Naomi said, closing her eyes as she searched her memory, “and there was a large sculpture of a bull. It looked Minoan."

  "I know where that is," Madalena said, looking at Alaric and the others. "A couple of years ago, Raphael had a dinner for senior Alliance members at his manor in Jedburgh, Scotland. It's right by the border. He gave us a tour of the cellar. There was ancient art he'd acquired that he kept down there. I remember asking him about the bull."

  "What are we waiting for?" Elias demanded. "Let's go get the son of a bitch."

  "Wait," Alaric said, dread spiraling through him. "How do we know this isn't a trap? Raphael's already proven he can get into Naomi's mind. This could be his way of luring her to him."

  "Or this could be the location of the Stone, the thing we've been searching for years," Casimir returned.

  "We need to take the risk," Elias agreed, "if the Stone is in Scotland, and we miss this opportunity, who knows when we'll get this chance again? Jedburgh is only two hours away by car. We can get there quickly."

  "I don't think it's a trap," Naomi said, meeting his eyes. "I don't think Raphael has anything to do with it. I think the Stone revealed itself to me—and only the Stone."

  "You're still new to all this," Alaric said, squatting down to gaze into Naomi's eyes. His fear for her had risen in his chest; he took both of her hands in his, not caring about the others in the room. "Raphael is a powerful witch. He's capable of—“

  "I agree with Naomi," Madalena interrupted, "Naomi is no ordinary witch, she's a Descendant. The Stone was created to communicate with her."

  "Do I need to remind you it's an object?" Alaric snapped, not releasing Naomi's hands. "It's heeding an ancient spell. The First Witches intended for their descendants to sacrifice their lives to unleash the spell. The Stone's not concerned with keeping her alive."

  He could tell by their grudging expressions that his words were holding sway. It was Naomi who spoke up. She squeezed his hands.

  "I think we should take the risk."

  "Naomi—“ he began.

  "I'm going to keep hearing those whispers. Soon it'll become too much for me to handle. If we're close to the Stone, we should go after it. The sooner it's destroyed, the sooner this is all over."

  She defiantly held his gaze. A surge of anger rose in his chest, dwarfing the pride he felt at her bravery. He released her hands, standing. Bloody hell, he was trying to protect her.

  "The rest of us are in agreement," Madalena said, before he could offer any further protests. "We need to infiltrate Raphael's manor."

  Alaric fell silent as they made plans to head to Scotland. He studied Naomi as she listened, discussing with Madalena her part in the plan. He had half a mind to pull her aside and use the thrall on her to change her mind. This is what she's here for. What the Alliance needs her for. And what she wants to do, he reminded himself. The thought brought him no comfort.

  "Alaric?" Madalena asked. "Do you understand your part in this?"

  Everyone waited for his response. Naomi looked down at her hands, her shoulders rigid, as if bracing for him to protest. He didn't like this plan one bit, but he sure as hell wouldn't let them go without him.

  "Yes," he replied.

  "We're leaving shortly. Take care of any last minute preparations now," Madalena said, after she filled Alaric in on the plan and his part in it. She turned to face the others. "We can't risk Raphael fleeing before we get there."

  As everyone scattered, Alaric pulled Naomi aside.

  "I know what you're going to say. I know you want to keep me safe; but I've made up my mind," Naomi said. "I'm not this damsel for you to constantly save. I can take care of myself."

  Naomi’s face was flushed, her breathing ragged, and she avoided his eyes. There seemed to be something else she was upset about, tension lurked beneath her words.

  "I know that, Naomi. Of course I know that," he said, trying to keep his tone gentle. "Just—get out of there if it gets too dangerous. The moment you see Raphael, flee. We can handle him."

  Naomi hesitated.

  "Naomi . . . "

  "I . . . I don't think I could leave you behind."

  Her eyes softened at they meet his, the defiance gone, replaced by vulnerability. His heartbeat faltered at her words. They were alone now, and he leaned forward to press his lips against hers, briefly, tenderly. A memory from last night came to him, unbidden; her soft curves against his, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony, as if every part of them belonged together. Desire flared in him, hot and bright, but he forced it down, reluctantly pulling back. Her face was flushed as her eyes met his; had she surmised what he was thinking?

  "I'm a big bad vampire," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, to return the focus back to the matter at hand—her safety. "I can handle Raphael. Promise me you'll flee when you see him. Please."

  She didn't smile at his jest and heaved a sigh.

  "I promise," she said, "but this doesn't mean I won't fight like hell to destroy that Stone."

  That familiar rush of pride swelled in his chest. He reached out to touch her cheek. His brav
e Naomi.

  "I wouldn't expect anything less."

  Raphael's manor in Jedburgh was like the man himself— unnecessarily larger than life and flashy. Unlike the other medieval manors that dotted the town, his looked to be recently built, with a gold brick facade and castle-like turrets jutting from the roof. Imposing iron gates surrounded the manor, with the initials R I inscribed above the entry and rear gates. Like Raphael, it was a home that demanded to be seen and fawned over.

  Tension infused every part of Alaric's body as he glared at the manor; he couldn't wait to kill Raphael. Madalena had just apparated with him and Naomi a hundred yards away from the estate; they now stood behind the cover of several large hedges. Casimir had determined that the manor was empty from his remote surveillance of the town's cameras; he and Elias had apparated to the manor ahead of them to make certain it was empty.

  At his side, Madalena looked resolute, her mouth set in a straight line, her shoulders rigid; Naomi, as much as she tried to put up a brave front, was pale with fear. He met her eyes and held them, vowing with his eyes to protect her. She seemed to understand and reached out to squeeze his hand.

  Madalena's cell phone chimed, she glanced down at it.

  "It's all clear," she said, "which makes me suspicious. Raphael wouldn't leave the Stone unprotected."

  "No, he wouldn't," Alaric said, his body rigid with alarm.

  "It's here, though," Naomi murmured, "the whispers are faint . . . but I can hear them."

  "We go in, but we remain on high alert," Madalena said, after a long pause. "I've used a spell to disguise our scents, but that may not be enough. Any hint of Raphael, and we flee."

  "Get Naomi out first. Then the rest of us will flee," Alaric amended, and Madalena nodded in agreement.

  Madalena reached for their hands to apparate them. He gripped Naomi's hand tight as he felt a tug of wind, like his body was being sucked into open air; and then they were on the rear grounds of Raphael's estate.

  Casimir had disabled the manor's surveillance cameras, but they'd have to move quick, it was only a matter of time before Raphael's security noticed the malfunction.

  They hurried to one of the back doors which Casimir and Elias had left open for them. Alaric kept Naomi and Madalena behind him as they stepped into a parlor, dominated by a large pool table and ceiling to floor bookshelves. Alaric inhaled as they entered, searching for any foreign scents or smells. But he only detected Casimir and Elias' familiar scents.

  Naomi sank to her knees, pressing her hands to the sides of her head. Alaric was at her side at once.

  "It's . . . here," she gasped, "the whispers . . . they're everywhere. The Stone is close."

  Then someone else had to be here. Raphael would not leave it unattended. He stroked Naomi's back to calm her, meeting Madalena's eyes. She was thinking the same thing.

  "We're going to get you out of here," she told Naomi, "the Stone isn't unguarded. You need—“

  "No," Naomi said. She pulled herself to her full height, "if someone else is here, you fight them off while I destroy the Stone. This is the closest I've been to it since Athens."

  She met his eyes evenly, as if daring him to defy her.

  "It's in the cellar," she said, "let's go."

  He clenched his fists, sucking in a breath. She wasn't going to listen to them; the next best thing he could do was protect her by killing whoever was hiding in the manor.

  They crept out the parlor; at least Naomi let him walk ahead of them.

  Casimir and Elias approached as they stepped out of the parlor.

  "No one's here. We checked everywhere. No way Raphael's this stupid," Elias said, as they cautiously ventured down a hallway lined with gold framed paintings and crystal chandeliers.

  "We're preparing ourselves for a trap," Alaric agreed, scanning every inch of the hallway, sniffing for any other witch, vampire, or human presence.

  The others formed a protective flank around Alaric and Naomi as they made their way to a circular staircase. Alaric could hear Naomi's thundering heart; she was running on fear and adrenaline. He reached out to grip her hand; both for her assurance and his need to protect her.

  The staircase led to a narrow hall; he could see a cellar door at the far end. His hand tightened on Naomi's. Where are you, you bastard? If Raphael was here, he'd used one hell of a Disguising spell to hide his scent. Alaric could smell no one other than their group.

  When they reached the cellar door, Naomi was shaking.

  "It's here," she whispered.

  He pushed her behind him, opening the cellar door. It was dark, filled with tables of the clay sculptures Naomi had seen. In the corner, there was a larger statue of a bull. He entered, looking around. There was no one in here.

  He stepped aside as Naomi and Madalena entered. Elias and Casimir remained by the doorway, their bodies stiff and primed for battle. Alaric was on full alert, scanning both the cellar and the hallway outside for any sign of movement. Behind him, he heard Madalena and Naomi search the dark cellar.

  "It's here, I can feel it,” Naomi said, her voice taut with frustration.

  "It is here."

  The voice came from the far end of the hall—calm, cold, dripping with arrogance. Raphael.

  Ice filled Alaric's veins. He froze as Raphael stepped into their field of vision, holding the Incantation Stone aloft in his hand, a lazy smile curving his lips. Behind him, several other witches flanked him.

  "Cloaking spells have always been a strong suit of mine," he said. "Your spells need improvement, Madalena. I could sense all of you as soon as you arrived in Scotland."

  Alaric leapt toward him, fangs bared, eager to rip out the witch's heart. Raphael raised his hand; a spell hurled him, Elias, and Casimir back into the cellar, against the far wall, immobilized.

  "Cantair se—“ Madalena began her, her hand outstretched, but with a flick of his hand, Raphael silenced her, and tossed her against the side wall of the cellar.

  Alaric snarled as Raphael turned his hand towards Naomi.

  "Repele—“ She tried to cast a Repelling spell, but it was too late; Raphael's spell was already in motion, she floated out of the cellar and into his arms, where she struggled in vain to free herself.

  "NAOMI!" Alaric shouted, struggling to free himself from Raphael's Binding spell. Naomi's panicked eyes met his; an anguish he'd not felt in a century surged in his chest, and blood tears pricked at his eyes.

  Raphael clutched her tight against his chest, his gaze lingering on Alaric, taunting him.

  "Thank you for bringing her to me."

  And then he vanished with Naomi.

  Chapter 22

  When Naomi came to, the whispers in her mind were deafening. Though the words were mostly indiscernible, she did recognize one word from the ancient language. Seffa. Sacrifice.

  She sat up, looking around, her breathing quick and ragged. She was in some sort of ceremonial room; there were no windows, it had bare stone walls and floors, and she was seated on a throne-like chair, bolted to the floor. A dozen stones surrounded her chair in a circular pattern.

  Trepidation rose in her chest as she recalled the look of anguish in Alaric's eyes, Raphael yanking her into his arms, a vortex of wind around them . . . and then nothing.

  She tried to move, but invisible binds kept her tied to the chair. She tried to push past her panic to recall the Unbinding spell, but the frenetic whispers in her mind made it impossible to concentrate.

  "You can have peace, Naomi."

  She looked up, her heart slamming into her ribcage as Raphael entered the room. The Incantation Stone floated in front of him as he moved. As he drew closer to her with the Stone, the whispers in her mind rose. Only now they uttered a single word. Seffa. Seffa. Seffa.

  "You're hearing seffa, aren't you? The Incantation Stone demands your sacrifice."

  Raphael stopped in front of her, his grey eyes filled with awe. An ancient-looking knife drifted out of his pocket. It had a dark wooden handle inscr
ibed with the mark of the Order, that infinity symbol with jagged runic slashes. The knife hovered before him, then sailed through the air towards Naomi. She screamed, rearing back, but it came to a rest on her lap.

  "I didn't bring you here to harm you," Raphael said, looking offended. "I'm honored to meet you. I never thought I'd meet a pureblood. Purebloods are rare. Our bloodline's have been . . . sullied by human and vampire blood. Not yours."

  Now he was looking at her with something akin to desire. Unlike the last time she'd encountered Raphael, she felt no draw towards him. He was still handsome on the surface, with his dark blonde hair and wolfish grey eyes, but now, he radiated evil from his pores. Revulsion coiled through her as he stepped forward, reaching out to touch the sides of her face. She'd learned basic spells to block off her mind, but she hadn't practiced enough to know if they were effective; her entire focus with her magic had been centered around locating—and destroying—the Stone.

  But he didn't seem concerned with probing her mind; at least, not yet.

  "You are beautiful," he murmured, "I see why the Blood Beast desires you."

  Alaric. Fear flooded her senses. Where was he? And the others? Had he captured them as well? Killed them? She closed her eyes to shut out Raphael's face, tears stinging her eyes. She refused to let him see her cry.

  The knife was heavy in her lap. If she could somehow will it to injure Raphael and free herself . . .

  "You don't know much about magic, do you? The knife is enchanted to never harm its true owner. Me," Raphael said, amused.

  "Why are you doing this? What do you want?" Naomi spat, opening her eyes to glare at him.

  To her relief, he stepped away from her. She already knew the answer, but she had to keep him talking while she figured out how to get out of here. The whispers in her mind were a constant, and she had to actively focus her thoughts.

  She needed to do what she'd done in Athens and shake the walls of this room. If that ability was rare, as Madalena had told her, maybe Raphael wouldn't be able to counter it. But what she'd done that night had been a complete accident; all she could remember was the fear that coursed through her body.