by Patti Larsen
“Where is Liander?” So, the former second of the Dumont family was speaking for the Brotherhood now? Kayden didn’t appear pissed, so it had to be an amiable power transfer.
“Happy in his cage,” I said. “He’ll be delighted for you to join him.”
Kayden’s hands slid over a large bundle in his hands, wrapped in black velvet. Something softly gray, made of stone, appeared at the edge and I realized what he had.
A piece of Creator. The arm, most likely. Damn it, they were going to run.
I was right. They were ready for us. But it wasn’t Kayden who had the plan. Before I could act, stop him, Jean Marc’s power, held in reserve until now, burst open like a sticky bubble. But not the black, devouring sorcery I was used to. That I could have combatted without issue, something he likely understood all too well. What hit me sparkled white.
While not nearly as strong as mine, it felt foreign, altered, and familiar all at the same time. The bits and pieces of brightness clung to me, distracting and irritating as my mind tried to understand why the burning white was able to eat through my defenses. I pushed past my frustration and the hold of the cloying stuff at last, snapped out at Jean Marc with the power of the maji, but too late. He saluted me as a giant black hole engulfed him and the small group of Brotherhood sorcerers who hovered close to him, taking them away as it vanished. Leaving the rest of his people behind.
Because that’s how he rolled, apparently. Abandoning the faithful to save his own ass. Just another reason to hate Jean Marc.
“What the hell was that?” Gram met my gaze, her blue eyes wide.
It took me a moment to connect the dots. I’d encountered that power before. White sorcery. On Demonicon. My sister’s power, taken from the demon who destroyed that plane only for her to rebuild it again. Where had Jean Marc gotten his hands on it?
Syd. Owen’s mind reached mine. Have you found him?
Damn it. Apollo. I dropped the thread of worry about Meira and focused on the here and now. I’d talk to my sister shortly and find out what the hell was going on. Until then, I had a Zornov to rescue. Maybe. If Kayden hadn’t fulfilled his orders…
“Don’t mind me.” I spun at the sound of Apollo’s voice before I could even start looking. He stepped from a dark corner, exiting what looked like solid rock, dissolving around him as he shuddered it off. “Figured when Belaisle vanished I should, too.”
Illusion. He’d thought ahead, apparently, smarter about all of this than I’d given him credit for. “That’s why we couldn’t see or hear you.”
“No time to warn you, sorry.” Apollo stretched, grinned. And tossed me a white lump of stone that zinged over my flesh as I caught it. A large chunk that should have weighed far more than it did. I gaped at it while he spoke again. “You’re welcome.”
You again. The hand sighed gustily, irritation clear. I suppose you’ll do, if you can refrain from dropping me this time. He sniffed. About time someone found me and delivered me from the control of these ruffians. Who knew the parts of Creator would be so grumpy? Tell me you’re competent. Because your track record isn’t solid. And, if I have to deal with one more slouch, I’ll lose it.
I looked up as Apollo winked.
“Thanks for the rescue,” he said.
***
Chapter Thirteen
With my power safeguarding the hand of Creator tucked securely against my chest and my alter egos keeping it occupied so I didn’t have to listen to it complaining, I followed Apollo as he gave me the guided tour of the Brotherhood hideout. His brother walked firmly at his side. Owen hugged Apollo with unabashed relief the moment he had a chance and there were tears in both their eyes when he let go.
I held back, let them talk in murmured conversation while the Steam Union spread out, growing in number as Piers cracked commands and the castle, once Brotherhood property, was taken over by his people. It was an impressive spot, to say the least, with the latest technology woven into a squatting, stone castle that belonged in another era. It made me wonder why the Brotherhood missed the button cam and microphone the Zornov brother carried when wireless and fiber op ran along stone walls and a giant satellite dish sat on the roof surrounded by parapets.
I was grateful nonetheless.
And yes, I knew returning the hand to the Stronghold was a priority. It troubled me Belaisle had it in his possession. Either Trill had given it to him—she’d been the one who’d stolen it from me after all—or he’d somehow managed to track her down and wrestle it from her.
Why did I still cling to the thin and tragic hope maybe Trill might not be lying? That there was a chance, even the slimmest possibility, she wasn’t the enemy? Holding the stolen piece wasn’t saying much for her case.
Even as those thoughts passed through my mind, I felt something holding me here, a compulsion I couldn’t shake. There had been times in the past I’d gone against my gut with disastrous results. So, I trusted I had time, cradled the hand against me and paid attention for once.
I could feel the magic in the place, buried deep beneath the stone. Maybe that was it, that old energy calling me? This was some ancient castle Belaisle had taken for his use, deep in the Scottish countryside. Once abandoned, now restored to its old glory of deep, velvet carpeting and stained glass, but hidden away, out of sight of normals and their day to day. Smart, as usual. Very Liander, though I’d expected more flash from him, remembering the mansion where we’d first met. Still, this place was huge, impressive enough to satisfy even his pint size driven giant ego.
Though I rarely thought about it much, when the black ribbon around my wrist stirred, I took notice—and realized what held me here. The soul of a drach of unknown origins—though Max suspected it came from the other Universe—woke as I returned to the first floor and neared a dark staircase at the back of the hall. What spoke to it I had no idea, but I sat up and took notice. It had claimed me the moment I opened the box Andre gave me before his death, bonding itself to my skin, though I hadn’t tried all that hard to pry it off, to be honest. There was a solid weight to it that I grew accustomed to quickly, often forgetting it was there. Maybe I should have been worried it might be influencing me, but I never had that impression. Only that it was comfortable with me, saw me, if not as its leader or mother, as an equal it was happy to remain with. Unlike the other wild drach souls I’d encountered that flitted about like giddy children, this ribbon of a spirit felt more grounded and far more intent on a purpose I had as yet to ascertain.
Max’s lack of concern over its presence added to my calm. He’d examined it carefully after telling me what he suspected, but when neither of us could detect any ill will or intent from it he’d simply backed off and allowed me to keep it.
As if he had a say in the matter. I was sure, if I really tried, I could shed the ribbon. That it was with me by choice as much as I kept it with me for the same reason. A partnership, then. But it rarely, if ever, stirred the last few days I’d had it on my person. From the moment it slipped around my wrist and fastened itself there, the drach soul had been quiet, watchful. It had quivered a time or two, usually in Max’s presence. But never had it reacted quite like this. As I passed a descending staircase, the ribbon simultaneously tightened and shivered, pulling my hand gently in the direction of the steps leading underground.
I didn’t hesitate. Not because it controlled me. Not in the least. I felt an odd bond to the ribbon by now, as though we were friends, as odd as that sounded. And I trusted its instincts as much as my own. And so, without considering the implications, I turned off from my guide’s path and descended deeper into the castle’s belly.
Apollo’s voice called my name from behind me but I ignored him. It wasn’t as if I was in any danger down here. There wasn’t much on this plane that could challenge me. The girls murmured their own curiosity, even my vampire showing a piqued interest. Had one of them been concerned I might have pulled back. But whatever called to the black drach soul made it feel eager and almost excited.
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The bottom of the stairs was stone, uneven and broken in places, darkness down here so absolute I needed a witchlight even with the intensity of my demon’s night vision at my disposal. The blue ball of illumination hovered over my head, bouncing along with my step as I continued down the narrow hallway. Visons of knights and pop culture’s version of demons and witches woke like a movie reel in my head, imagining a CGI dragon poking his head from the end of the hall to breathe fire at me.
I had to swat at the hovering light that drew too near as though it were afraid and needed my comfort, pushing it behind me before it set my hair on fire. When I turned back, the ribbon tightened further, pulling me gently to the left and a large steel door, pitted with age and rust.
“What are you looking for?” I hadn’t noticed Gram followed me downstairs until she spoke. She cocked her head to one side, blue eyes glowing in the light of the ball of fire hiccupping nervously over our heads.
“I’m not sure,” I said, gesturing to my hand that extended toward the door and the ribbon now spinning in slow circles around my wrist. “Whatever it wants, it’s in there.”
Gram wasn’t Max, clearly. She frowned, instantly troubled. “You’re sure that thing is safe?”
I’d had every single person in my life in the last two days ask me that question, one way or another. I just smiled at her rather than being irritated. “Want to see what’s on the other side?”
Gram sighed. “Girl,” she said, pushing up her sleeves, sorcery oozing out around her, “ready when you are.”
I could have kissed her.
The door gave way easily under the touch of my power, the lock recently oiled, hinges well cared for if the surface of the entry was not. An illusion perhaps, set up by Belaisle, to make the exterior uninteresting? The moment the door eased open under my power, I felt a web of sorcery snap, the shielding around it releasing. And a flood of familiar magic from within hit me like a slap across the face.
They emerged in a joyful rush, sweeping around me, tugging at my hair, my clothing, bobbing around the witchlight over my head. The wild drach souls, multicolored and beautiful, sang to me as they reveled in their freedom. The black ribbon fell silent, smug almost, at their release.
I hadn’t seen them in a very long time, always wondered where they’d gotten to after I’d set them loose from the crystals Belaisle used to steal the power of the Dumont family. They’d warned me of the Brotherhood’s imminent attack on the Stronghold, led me to Max. How Belaisle managed to capture them again, I had no idea. I was just glad they were free.
Each of the souls bobbed toward me, kissing against my cheeks, winding through my hair, before streaking off in a rainbow of light for the staircase. I almost followed but knew I’d never keep up, grinning as they flashed up and out of sight.
Gram patted at her own hair. “Silly creatures,” she said.
The black ribbon loosened its grip, seemed to go to sleep. At least I knew what it wanted from me.
“I had no idea they were down here.” I turned to face Apollo who grimaced with guilt as he spoke. “I would have let them out.”
“You’ve done a great job,” I said, hugging him to his shock. He embraced me in return, grinning down at me with his usual lecherous look when I released him. More laughter, I couldn’t help it. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Piers trotted down the steps, strode toward us with a huge smile on his face. “This place,” he said, “is perfect. I’m stealing it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Surely Belaisle left traps behind.
“I know where all the danger zones are,” Apollo said. “I can show them where to look.”
“And if the Brotherhood tries to return?” This was a terrible plan.
“I hope they do.” Piers’s grin turned to a bleak grimace. “I really, really do.”
None of my business, though I wished otherwise. Maybe this was one of those little things Max was talking about. Sure, I could have bullied Piers into changing his mind. Maybe. But was it worth it? He had Gram and Demetrius. And Apollo who knew the place. And Piers was no slouch himself. Still, the Steam Union was under siege already from the Brotherhood. Dared they risk such exposure?
“We need to know how he’s changing out primary power,” Piers said before I could make up my mind about what to do or say. “And being here might help. If they do come back, we’ll be ready.”
I sighed, nodded. Hugged Gram while sending a tight message to her.
Take care of him. He worried me, all this pressure on his shoulders.
I was one to talk.
Always, she sent in return. Gram leaned away. “The white sorcery,” she said.
I hadn’t forgotten. “I should talk to Meira.” Maybe my sister could give me some insight into where the hell Jean Marc Dumont got his hands on a power I thought only she possessed. I didn’t even have it.
Grumble, mumble.
***
Chapter Fourteen
I reconnected with the piece of Creator, hugging it tighter to me, the weight of the stone a fraction of what it should have been for the size of the piece. The voice of the item chattered on inside my head, distracting but easy enough to block out when the girls took turns keeping it occupied.
Thank the elements for my alter egos.
You’re welcome, my demon sent, smug but irritated at the same time.
The veil opened for me, delivering me directly to the basement of my house. I really should have contacted Max first, returned the hand. Despite the chattering, the warmth of it, the living soul of the piece left me wanting to embrace it and never let it go. Being this close to Creator—even a small part of her—had to be addictive. And though I knew I’d have to give it up eventually, I had enough excuses to keep it for a little while yet.
I wanted answers to bring with me to the drach lord as well as the piece of Creator. And my sister was the only one I knew of who might have them for me.
She answered immediately when I reached for her. Sassafras came trotting down the steps behind me as the veil parted and Meira smiled through. The silver Persian settled at my feet while I waved at my sister on Demonicon. She sat in her office, giant windows behind her showing a night sky, the black lit with rising moons. Meira rose from her giant desk, light from the fire on her right catching her shining black horns, the glow of her amber eyes, the crimson tint of her skin. She was stunning, as usual, glossy black hair hanging over one shoulder in spirals of curls, her favorite cat suit replacing the traditional outrageous garb of the ruling elite. She’d radically altered the wardrobe selections of the ruling class, to the dismay and destruction of a burgeoning fashion industry. Not that I cared. When I visited Demonicon these days it was in my favorite jeans and t-shirt, no matter how hard her aides glared at me for my casual attire.
“Meems.” It was a relief to see her, as though a crushing weight suddenly rose from my body and found another host. Meira smiled, leaning against her desk, hugging herself in pantomime of embracing me.
“Syd.” Her voice had deepened over the years. Funny how I still expected the sweet, high pitched tone of the girl she’d once been, though she towered over me now at full demon height. “What’s with the hand?”
I looked down at the white stone in my arms. “Just a souvenir of the wars,” I said with a wink.
Well, I never. The hand’s complaint reached both Sass and my sister. The cat’s amber eyes widened as he looked up at me, my sister snickering behind her fingers.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sass stood on his hind legs, sniffing as I lowered the piece of Creator for him to examine.
If you imply, lesser creature, the hand sent with a sniff, that I am a part of the greatest power in the Universe, you are correct. You may bow if you wish.
Sass snarled something decidedly nasty. You wish, he shot back.
“I take it you’re not calling because you found a piece of the statue,” Meira said while the hand huffed and chuffed over the casual comme
nt.
Piece of a statue. Really.
The girls rushed in to distract it while I rolled my eyes.
“Who knew Creator’s bits would be such arrogant asshats?” Meira laughed with me. “Seriously, no. I need to get this to the Stronghold before something happens.” My heart constricted suddenly. But there was no Belaisle to come after it. And no sign of Eva Southway or of Trill. And if either tried to enter the family wards…
Well, there’d be about a smear left. Maybe.
I quickly told my sister about Jean Marc, registering her shock as I mentioned the white sorcery.
“Show me.” She stood straighter, all Ruler suddenly. I did as she demanded, though not without a twitch of irritation even as I forgave her. She was used to command now, about as used to it as I was, if not more, thanks to the constant push and pull she endured on Demonicon. While things were far better now than they’d been when our grandfather was her Second, Meira still had to deal with demon politics. I didn’t envy her even a little.
I thought witches were unreasonable. Demons? Oy.
Meira examined the memory before releasing my mind. I’d forgotten how powerful she’d become, not just due to Ruler’s magic but her own as well. There was darkness in my sister now, had been since she’d been drugged and controlled with nectar. But she’d learned to own it, to control and use it to her advantage. And though part of me mourned the loss of my little sister’s pure sweetness, I knew better. She needed her core of stone as much as I needed mine.
And it didn’t make me love her any less.
“I have no idea where he uncovered it,” she said at last, beginning to pace in front of her desk. It was my favorite activity when I was thinking, so I just watched and waited. “As far as I know, I’m the only one anywhere who has access. But there are a lot of planes out there.” She shrugged. “You might want to ask Max and Mabel.”
