by Patti Larsen
“Gone,” she whispered. “Long gone. He’s abandoned us and left us to be arrested.”
The moment she finished speaking I felt the bubble burst. Not the shielding I’d used to protect my people, but the coating of filth holding Harvard in control. The recoil bounced off me with the distinct touch of Belaisle, but, worse, with the trapped power of the Council in its grasp.
Erica wailed her horror as the magic of the North American witches was ripped from her, pulling her forward as it flashed free and disappeared, dropping her prone over her desk, unconscious.
Shaken and furious, I ground my teeth together in frustration. He planned this from day one. And now he had what he wanted, didn’t he?
The power of the Council was gone.
***
Chapter Thirty Six
I sat on the steps leading up to the Council bench platform and stayed the hell out of the way. Femke was amazing, had been since the moment the Council was secured and Belaisle’s disappearance with the power of the witches gone with him was made apparent.
She stepped in immediately in her role as leader of the new alliance, ascending to the leader’s seat and using her bell-like magic gavel on the table top.
“As the duly appointed leader of the new World Paranormal Council, I declare, under the authority of all magic races, the North American Witches Council is now defunct.”
Erica’s unconsciousness had only lasted a few moments. She watched from where Enforcers had dragged her down below, on her knees next to her Councilors, with dead and weary eyes. I expected some kind of resistance from her, but instead she seemed almost vacant. I could only imagine the damage Belaisle had done stripping the Council’s power from her and wondered if she was even in there anymore.
Not that I cared much.
I’m going after Belaisle. Piers’s fierce message spun me around as the final toll of Femke’s bell had rung.
I’m coming with you. I was already on the move to his side, but he shook his head, dark tunnel formed and ready.
Femke is more important, he sent. And left me behind. Fuming, I considered going after him. He couldn’t take on Belaisle alone. Besides, we really, really needed to take that bastard into custody and I was sure I was the only one who could take him down.
Syd, Femke’s mind touched mine. I need you.
And that, as they say, was the straw that broke the camel and the cart and about three dozen eggs with one tiny message of need. I joined her, then, listened as she spoke.
“A new council will be assigned,” she said. “From among the surviving families. For now, an interim council will consist of three witches in the spirit of expediency.”
Don’t you dare, I sent to her in a sharp poke of power.
You’re kidding, right? She laughed in my head. I know better. You were right when you said you’d be a terrible council leader.
Thanks for that, I grumbled. Who, then?
Femke hesitated. That’s what I wanted you here for. Suggestions?
This is temporary, right? I met her troubled eyes.
Yes, just until the families can be brought together and a new council chosen.
Then pick three, I sent. Who cares who they are? Let’s just get the ball rolling. Her eyes widened at the suggestion, but I prodded her gently with power. We’ll be here to watch over them, I sent. Besides, they're powerless at this point. I really had to go after Belaisle. The elements knew what he wanted that magic for and sudden worry for South America heated up my blood. Pick three, I sent to her, opening the veil. I’m going to do some checking in with other territories.
She let me go. Over the next hour or so I moved around the world, stopping in for visits with each of the leaders, now returned to their own territories. Ana Maria hugged me tight and whispered promises I knew she’d never keep while the other leaders seemed relieved and slightly shocked things had gone so wrong so fast. I just hoped they wouldn’t try to renege on their agreement to support the new World Paranormal Council, but time would tell.
When I returned to Harvard, Femke had things firmly in hand. I sank to the step and watched her as she swore in three young and frightened looking witches. I recognized Philip, Erica’s secretary, his hazel eyes flashing nerves and excitement as he gave me a thumbs up. I grinned and returned the gesture as Femke stepped back from the now black-robed witches.
“I declare you the interim North American Witches Council,” she said. “Lead with integrity and honor for as long as you hold your posts.” A pulse of power left her, a chunk of the magic she carried with her, but more than that. It came from the Enforcers, too, the ones the other leaders sent, and I realized Femke just created the seed of the new Council power from all sources of magic, werewolves and vampires included.
Interesting choice, I sent to her. She turned to meet my eyes even as the three, stunned a moment, finally turned to mount the steps and take their places.
Not much of a choice, she sent. I couldn’t leave them with nothing. It’s not much, but something to build on. Until we get the power back from Belaisle.
If we do. I had no illusions about that. Everyone is filled in. I really have to go.
Belaisle. Femke nodded to me. You think you’ll find him?
Part of the reason I wasn’t feeling anxious about going was my doubt I ever would. At least, not until he was ready to be found. What did you do with the old Council? They were gone when I got back, Erica included.
Under arrest awaiting trial, Erica sent. I’ll guide the new group on writing some laws as stopgaps. But Syd, this is a damned mess.
Tell me about it. I rose to my feet. If you don’t need me, I’ll trot off to the Stronghold and let them know all is—
SYD! Piers appeared in a blast of black, hitting the ground at a run right for me, gray longcoat billowing out behind him. The panic on his face drove me forward toward him, Gram and Demetrius joining us at a dead dash.
Piers didn’t speak, instead flashed an image at me. And terror drove me to slice open the veil and hurtle myself through it, the three following behind.
The Stronghold. Under attack by the Brotherhood.
I leaped through the other side in to chaos. Smoke filled the main hall, a large cluster of Brotherhood pinning witches and draining them right in front of me, Mom and Dad doing their best to fight them, a losing cause against sorcery. My feet hit the ground hard, a roar of pure rage rumbling up from my lungs, rainbow power rippling around me.
Everyone turned, the fear on the Brotherhood’s faces as they realized they’d made the biggest mistake of their lives lasting one heartbeat. Just as long as it took for me to let out my fury. The power of the maji, fed by my absolute need to protect my family, pulsed outward in a blast of magic so strong I staggered when it left me.
It passed over the witches without harming them, rippling through and around them in sparkling light. But, the moment it hit the Brotherhood it turned to knives of light, slicing through them with power, cutting off their magic, sucking them dry and sending them crashing to the floor.
I gasped a breath, bent over with my hands on my knees as Gram, Demetrius and Piers split up and ran forward, presumably to check and make sure I hadn’t missed anyone. Moans and weeping from the family filled the space, but didn’t last as a weak but enthusiastic cheer rose and their love and gratitude hit me hard.
Mom. I reached for her, heart pounding. From this moment on every one of our witches has their sorcery wakened and damned well learns to use it.
Consider it done. She came to me, face lined and tired, and hugged me as Dad kissed the top of my head. Sassafras scampered forward, leaping into my arms.
“What happened?” I scanned the room in a moment of panic, spotting Quaid helping some witches to their feet, Shenka doing the same, Charlotte and Sage alive and well. “The kids!”
“Safe,” Mom said. “Galleytrot took them all away when the Brotherhood came.” She looked off, as if into the distance, then nodded. “He kept them out of harm’s way
down one of the corridors. They’re fine.”
I exhaled my relief, shaking a little. “What happened? How did they get in?” The Stronghold promised me.
Mom’s shrug seemed slightly dazed. “One minute we were celebrating your victory and the next we all felt the Stronghold shudder, as though attacked. We had that moment of warning only. And then the Brotherhood came.”
Something was horribly wrong. I reached out to the Stronghold to find out what. Are you okay? Did they hurt you somehow?
No answer. Not even a breath of a hint of a sniff of anything. Fear came back with a vengeance. Stronghold, I sent, digging deeper. Where are you? Was he still mad at me for pushing to share his secret? No, that wasn’t it. There was just nothing. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? How did the consciousness of an entire plane just vanish?
It wasn’t until I sank deep, deep into the heart of the Stronghold I felt him. But, when I tried to speak to him, he remained silent and still. As if he’d somehow been put to sleep.
I pulled free and opened my mouth to tell my family what I’d found at the exact moment the air above me split open and five massive bodies fell through.
Dragon shapes plummeted toward me, shifting as they fell into human form. I barely had time to cushion their descent, the weight of them almost too much to bear. I’d pushed myself so hard, twice now, with little rest, I was almost used up. But a surge of power from everyone around me gave me the boost I needed, as all the witches and friendly sorcerers and two werewolf friends threw their magic into the struggle to lower the drach safely to the stone floor.
I ran to Max as he collapsed, diamond eyes closing, bending over him as he sighed two words.
“Dark Brother.”
***
Chapter Thirty Seven
I hovered over Max as Lula and Phon did their thing, not knowing if he was hurt or just tired or what. They firmly kept me outside their little packet of shielding as they quietly went about the work they were so good at while I paced and fumed and worried.
Mabel and three other drach rested in different rooms down this same hall, all brought here gently and with reverence by the witches of my family and those we’d rescued. They knew who the drach were, clearly, and from the anxiety and true compassion on their faces understood what role the mighty first race played in their safety and how grateful they were for that protection, even through their own pain and suffering.
There was hope for witches. I was sure of it now.
Lula finally sighed and sat back from where she bent over Max’s silent face, the shields keeping me away falling. I joined her immediately, on my knees next to the bed as the big drach leader’s diamond eyes flickered open, his bald head turning toward me. Scales rippled over his skin, his power reaching mine, the infinite and expansive magic of the drach feeling weak and distant. That scared me more than anything I’d ever felt in my life.
“Max.” I stroked his cheek, tingle of power exchanged.
“Sydlynn Hayle.” His deep, rumbling voice sounded hollowed out, lacking its usual robustness. “We made it to you.”
I squeezed his big hand, the pressure of his fingers returning my gesture. “You did,” I said, tears tracking down my cheeks as my throat tightened around my guilt. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Things are a mess on my plane and I had to fix it, but I was coming to find you, I swear—”
He cut off my rambling confession/excuse freight train of regret with a soft chuckle.
“Thank you.” His eyes met Lula’s then Phon’s. “For your assistance.” His entire body tensed as he heaved himself up and spun sideways, feet on the floor. His bare toes were scaled more heavily than the rest of him, gray robe shimmering a moment as the bed creaked and groaned under his massive weight. “Mabel and the others?”
“Safe,” I said. “I’ll show you where.”
“No.” Max stood, a surge of power driving him to his feet. He obviously felt better by the second, magic returning, though nowhere near his usual gigantic presence. “We have work to do, Syd. And very little time for it.”
I followed him out the door, leaving the healers behind with a squeeze of hands and whispered thanks. Max strode with confidence down the corridor, me trotting to keep up behind him. I barely remembered coming here, I was so worried about him and the drach, it took me a minute to orient myself as he turned and took us up and then down stairs, covering ground with his massive strides.
“Mind telling me where we’re going?” I tugged at his elbow and he slowed just slightly, bowing his head to me.
“You have tried to reach the mind of the Stronghold?” I nodded. “As have I,” he said. “With the results I feared.”
“He’s asleep.” I whispered it, in awe a little of what this could mean. “Not like before. I could talk to him, even when the Brotherhood had access, before the battle.”
“Yes,” Max said. “Something has changed. And I fear I know what.”
I smacked his arm. “You know I hate secrets.” Immediately the memory of my conversation with the Stronghold surfaced. “He told me he had something he couldn’t tell me,” I said. “To do with Creator.”
Max sighed, sad and deep. “We are almost there,” he said.
I followed in silence, realizing as we entered a round room with a staircase on one side I knew where I was. “This leads to the tower,” I said. I knew it intimately. Had been kept prisoner there, as had Ameline. “The Stronghold called it his heart.”
“It is, indeed,” Max said. “Though only the crust of it. Observe.” He crossed to the far wall under the stairs, big hands stroking the stone. His face twisted as werewolves sometimes did when they were emotional, but Max’s transformation seemed calculated. His bones morphed, the face of his dragon shape appearing on his human neck and shoulders, diamond eyes swirling as he opened his muzzle and fire emerged. But not the flames I was used to, tinged with blue from the heat. This fire almost floated, as iridescent as the rainbow power we both shared. It washed the wall with light, slipping between stones, the entire section before him glowing, pulsing, and, finally, vanishing in a breath of superheated air.
A set of stairs led down into the dark. I stayed on Max’s heels as he descended, wondering why my entire life seemed to be about finding secret hiding places in the bowels of the earth.
But, we didn’t have far to go. Six steps down, a turn to the right and six more narrow stone stairs deposited us into a massive chamber. I looked up into the darkness, shivering at the quiet, buried power now sleeping inside this room.
“The hollow rises to the top of the tower,” Max said, pausing with me. “It was created to protect and support what we seek. Come.” I went after him as he crossed the shiny stone floor. It didn’t look manmade or anything, more as though some natural power had polished it to a sheen. My eyes adjusted to the faint glow coming from the walls, my demon’s sight seemingly useless here. Max’s diamond eyes glowed, leading the way. It wasn’t until we were almost in the middle of the room I realized something huge loomed there.
Its shadow cast long, broad darkness back from the glow of Max’s eyes, towering over us. We circled slowly, until I made out the shape of a throne from behind, then the side, a massive arm resting on the edge. But as we finally reached the front of what I now knew was a statue of some kind, I felt a pang of nervousness born from years of watching horror movies.
Not that it was particularly horrific. Just that I had the impending feeling something terrible was about to happen and I was the cheeky genius girl who got an axe in the chest for being so clever.
“Behold,” Max said, voice barely carrying in the muffled quiet of the giant room. “Creator.”
He said what? I stared up at the headless statue and could barely breathe.
“What I’m about to tell you,” Max said, “no other soul in this Universe was meant to know. Creator left the secrets with me long ago. And I had thought I was the only one who knew the truth.” He shook his big head. “I should have realized the consciou
sness tied to the Stronghold was from this source. But I never made the connection until my people were almost destroyed.”
My feet pulled me closer slowly, carefully as I studied the massive, headless figure before me. It had to be the height of a three story house, as wide as the same, the carved shoulders rising into the dark. One of the hands was missing, the opposite arm, as well and a giant chunk of stone was gone from the center of the chest. One foot had been removed, the rest of the masculinized female shape clothed in a robe of stone.
I stopped and gasped at the sight of movement, both hands pressed to my chest and ready to run despite the power I held. This felt like nothing I was prepared for, could handle on my own, and I had no idea why.
A shining, slippery thread of sliver fell from the chest cavity and slithered into the lap of the statue before shimmying down over one knee and trickling across the edge. I stepped back as it spun its way to the floor and collapsed in a weak and hurt puddle on the top of the one intact foot. A song like I’d never heard, full of agony so powerful I was weeping and wanted to fall to my knees and sob my heart out rose around me.
The only thing that saved me was the sound of Max’s voice.
“The song of the drach,” he said.
I looked up at him, wiping tears away as his power softly masked the music from the thread. And then I remembered, the ribbons of power I rescued from the rooftop in Miami, from the crystal machine Belaisle used to strip the Dumont family magic. I’d shattered the crystals and let them go, only to have them warn me and keep me safe later.
The souls of dead drach in their purest form.
I stared in softly easing grief at the tiny puddle of silver, going to it, lifting its weightless slipperiness into my hands. It curled around my wrist and sagged there, listless as its song finally went silent. I turned to Max, cupping it in my hands, holding it out to him.
“What happened?” I coughed through the last of my tears. “This is different.”
