Revenant

by Patti Larsen

  If it’s more nonsense about Syd, she can forget it. “Pay attention, child,” I say. “I don’t have time for your games right now. I’m looking for someone, and unless you can help me find him, you’re on your own.”

  Her mouth opens and closes before she shakes her head. “I can only see the future I’ve been assigned,” she says. “I’m sorry. But you have to stop her.” She moves toward me before falling back when I snarl at her. “You have to stop the one with the rainbow magic before it’s too late.”

  I cut the air with one hand. “If you’re still talking about Syd,” I growl, “you can shut your mouth. She’s saved our asses—this whole Universe—so many times I’ve lost count. You should be damned grateful for her.” I can barely control my rage, wanting to let it out all over this tiny thing who makes my head spin. “You’re standing here,” I spit the last few words, “because of her. So stop talking before I make you stop.”

  Zoe shakes her head, horror on her face. “No,” she says. “That’s not true.”

  “It is,” I say, “and unless you were there, little oracle girl, I’d keep my damned mouth shut. Because I was.” I pound my chest with one fist. “I was. I saw it happen, I lived it.”

  She stumbles back, head dropping. “It’s not possible.” Her free hand lifts to grasp the lighter, which flickers to life on its own. A flame appears, images flashing. I catch only a few, one of them predominant—Syd’s grim face. “I’ve seen it all!”

  “Whatever.” I turn my back on her.

  “Wait!” She comes after me, stops just behind me as I turn to face her again. She’s young, maybe eighteen, earnest and afraid, lost. “She is the Dark One.”

  “The Dark One,” I say, “is dead and gone, at Syd’s hand, five years ago.” Some oracle this girl is.

  The flame rises between us and a face appears in the fire. Syd again. “The Dark One,” she repeats.

  How has this kid gotten things so confused? “I don’t know who is supplying your little prophecies,” I say, jabbing a finger at the fire, “but that woman is the Light One, girl.”

  Zoe’s eyes fill with tears, her lower lip trembling. “No,” she whispers. “It can’t be true. How can it be true?” She stares into the flame. “Is it all a lie?”

  I reach for her, she’s so distraught, but she begins to fade too quickly, vanishing into the flame, the lighter flickering out and disappearing with her.

  Syd needs to know something is wrong. Whoever this kid is, claiming to be an Oracle, she’s seen something big coming. I have to warn my friend.

  But Sage…I can’t risk reaching for Syd now. And there has to be time.

  I spin, hunting Sage’s scent, and run for the street again, determined to track him down and finish this so I can help Syd. Because I have a feeling she’s going to need all the help she can get.

  My face slams into a barrier of darkness, the air smothering me before I can react, blackness engulfing me and dragging me screaming into unconsciousness.

  ***

  I wake slowly, cheek pressed to cold stone, the scent of mildew and rock filling my senses. It’s dark, but not the darkness of sorcery, merely a room absent of light. I push myself up, arms shaking, though I’m recovering from the blow that knocked me out. It had to have been magic to drain my entire body so completely.

  My eyes adjust, the low light coming from a crack in the far corner outlining the bottom of what has to be a door. It feels damp and cool here, the weight of some structure above me pressing down, the tang of aged moisture on my tongue. A basement? Yes, that makes sense. And the faint taste of fermentation. A wine cellar, perhaps.

  But that’s not all. My vision is hampered, my wolf rising slowly, as though stunned herself and only now able to focus, taking a moment before I realize why everything in my vision seems to be cut through with horizontal black gaps.

  I’m in a cage, iron bars surrounding me, overhead, keeping me from climbing to my feet.

  —I’m a child again, caged on filthy straw, naked, snarling and terrified, my wolf trying to defend me as he opens the door, his hand on his belt buckle—

  I smell him, mixed with memory, and know this is no past come to haunt me, as much as the two mingle together. This is real, here and now, and he has me once again where he’s always wanted to keep me.

  “Charlotte,” Andre’s voice oozes from the darkness as I turn and spot him hovering on a stool, cane before him, watching me with glittering eyes. “So lovely to have you again.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Terror, horror, primal fear, all in the heart of a child who can’t bear to be here any longer. My wolf bursts from me, throwing herself at the sides of the cage, while I pant and moan and scream at him, at the past and the horrible, horrible future waiting for me in his care.

  He laughs, indulgent. “How perfect you are in any form,” he says. “But I prefer the woman to the werewolf.” Again, I’m hit by power, his magic smothering my wolf and sending her spiraling down, while the girl in me curls in a corner and whimpers. I collapse on my side, my T-shirt and shorts shredded, the pretty underwear Tallah gave me clinging to me, providing at least some decency in this horror show. I know they won’t last long if Andre has his way. He likes to see all of me when he works.

  Resignation feels like failure. I have to fight.

  The door slams open, a wash of wolf-scent carrying to me, breaking the old pattern into a million pieces. The faint taint of revenant cuts away the girl I was, spins me toward the three figures slinking into the room. Caine grins at me, his wolf in his eyes, while mine recovers to lick her wounds and gather her calm. I’m left with something new to fixate on, weakening Andre’s psychological hold on me, hands gripping the bars with a ferocity that shocks me.

  Andre doesn’t seem quite so confident now as I glare at Caine and his two lackeys. Perhaps he senses his error in judgment. But I’m grateful. Seeing my enemies all together removes the feeling of past mixed with present and allows me to remember I’m not the slave girl I used to be.

  Viveca is as hateful as ever, Roman glowering. The pair are so pathetic, I ignore them in favor of Caine and his gloating smile, grinning in return and loving how his smirk fades ever so slightly at the sight of my rebellion.

  “There now,” Caine says, crouching to look through the bars at me, pushing his power over mine, trying to dominate. “Isn’t that better? All safe and sound, little princess?”

  I snap my teeth at him, laugh in his face. And shove my own magic at him, magic Andre has lost control of. I’m still in a cage, but that can be rectified. “Come in here with me,” I snarl. “I’ll show you just what a wereprincess is capable of.”

  He turns to the glowering werewoman beside him. “You’re making Viveca jealous,” he says. She looks unhappy with him, turns her head away. Caine ignores her, turns his head to look at Andre. “I hope you plan to share.”

  The Dumont leader shrugs, standing, cane in one hand, the other brushing imaginary lint from the front of his expensive suit. Is it possible he doesn’t sense the loss of control over me? Please, let it be possible. “I might let you have what’s left,” he says.

  Revenge is a dark and dangerous thing. Unless he gives me the means to fulfill it.

  “You’ve been working together all along,” I say, hoping to distract Andre, to keep him from thinking of what he might be missing. Of what I now carefully conceal from him. The timing must be perfect. “To capture me. And Sage.”

  Caine’s head whips around. “Clever girl,” he says.

  “Not so clever,” I say. “I figured that out long ago, you moron.”

  He bares his teeth, but Andre chuckles.

  “My dear Charlotte,” he says, “don’t bait the help.”

  Caine’s hate for Andre shows in his eyes a moment, but he backs off. So this is an unhappy alliance. Even better. Now, how can I use that to my advantage? Because right now, I can use all the advantages I can get.

  “Where is Sage?” I
f they have him already, if they’ve hurt him…

  “We were about to ask you the same question.” Andre hits the side of the cage with the silver top of his cane, making me jump. Residual fear remains, but I’ll destroy it shortly. And him.

  But Andre is second in my thoughts right now. They don’t have Sage. Relief floods through me, worries for myself fall away, knowing my love is safe.

  “So who is it really pulling your strings, Andre?” If I can keep him talking, he might tell me something important before I tear out his throat. And put off the inevitable. The woman in me wants to end this now. But the girl has uncurled from her place in my heart and her fear is trying to take over again. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen when we are alone with him. “Is it Liander Belaisle? Or his little protégé?” Focus, Charlotte.

  Andre’s eyes narrow. Damn him, I’ve hit the mark. He’s working with the Brotherhood. Wait until Syd finds out. The Dumont family will be no more. That is, if I’m able to reach her. And if there is anything left of him when I’m done. My little girl whimpers, tries to hide again. I have to release her or this will end badly.

  I reach out, searching for Syd, but the moment my magic touches the ceiling, it’s muffled, suppressed. So I’m being shielded. Which means no messages out, no chance of rescue. But Andre has left me access here, in this room, trusting his power is enough to control me.

  We’ll see about that. Right before I break out of here. I guess I’m going to have to rescue myself.

  Caine snarls at me. “Belaisle abandoned us,” he says before Andre can cut him off.

  “Shut up, you imbecile,” Andre snaps. Caine growls under his breath, his two cronies echoing him, but Andre doesn’t pay attention to their threat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “I merely hired Mr. Caine and his pack as my bodyguards, nothing more.”

  “Against the will of the wereking,” I say.

  Caine laughs out loud, like what I’ve said is funny. “We encouraged him to change his mind.”

  Why do those words make a chill run down the back of my neck?

  “Now you know,” I say to Andre, “that Belaisle made Caine and his pack into weres—that they are revenants,” the three snarl at me, “you are law-bound to turn them in to the Enforcers.”

  “Oh, my very dear,” Andre says, “but I always knew.” He gestures at Caine. “I was the one who recruited them from California, who encouraged their intrepid leader to pursue your hand. Who taught them pack law.”

  “You did a terrible job,” I say.

  Andre smirks. “No matter,” he says. “I may not have been able to educate them well enough to counter your grandfather, but that part of the equation will take care of itself in short order.” What does he mean by that? “Now,” he turns to Caine while my mind tries to fight my fear for Oleksander, “if you don’t mind, I’d like a moment alone with our darling Charlotte. She’s been out of my care for so long,” he turns back to me, eyes intense and eager, cane slapping against his free hand, “and is in desperate need of reeducation.”

  My stomach collapses into my feet, heart skipping a beat. The little girl wails, snarls in savagery, feral and wild and terrified. No, please, don’t go, stay with me, save me from him—

  Caine grins at me, thumbs his nose, laughs. Roman follows him, but Viveca lunges forward and crouches, her face in mine. “I hope it’s agony,” she says, licking her lips. “But not too much. I want there to be something left over for me to hurt when he’s done.”

  “Viveca.” Caine’s sharp voice jerks at her like a leash. She rises from her crouch and turns in a lithe movement, leaving me behind. The door shuts with a solid thunk, a flare of blue light appearing over my cage as Andre wakes a witchlight.

  “Now then,” he says. “Where did we leave off all those years ago?”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  I gasp a breath as the door to the cage opens. But not in fear. Viveca has given me a gift, scattered the child in me, driven her back.

  The rest of the shielding around me breaks. The fool, he’s bundled his protections around my magic into the seal on the door, failing to create a ward around me personally. So arrogant, forgetting he can no longer order me to do what he wants, the controls of the sorcery that created me, the dark magic of the Black Souls long gone. He’s more a fool than I thought.

  The girl in me whispers her disbelief while my wolf chuffs in satisfaction. The fear in my heart breaks at last, the child seeing the truth, the pathetic creature Andre is, preying on one so young and without the ability to fight back. She understands this is her chance, a chance she never had. And turns utterly savage.

  His power reaches for me, too late. I see the terror on his face, the tables turned, as I lunge from the cage, my own magic surging forward and into him, carrying him back to the ground. He lands hard, crying out, my werewolf shape leaping forward, landing lightly on his chest.

  “Andre,” I breathe into his face, the magic I control filling me with savage joy as I realize the hold he’s had over me is broken forever. No matter what he does to me, no matter if I’m ever in this position again, I will never fear him. The girl in me screams her defiance and sobs her victory.

  He gasps for breath, eyes huge. “Please, Charlotte, have mercy.” The coward. I’ve feared him for so long, that fear ingrained in my every cell. And now, here we are, and I can finally put an end to him forever, ensure he never, ever, touches another little girl. I can feel his power worming its way around me, trying to break through mine. He might be a coven leader, but I have the power Syd gave me and enough determination to crush his heart.

  “Mercy,” I say, bending close so my teeth hover over his throat. “One bite, Andre. One is all it will take and you’ll be hunted for the rest of your pathetic little life.”

  He croaks in fear, magic faltering. “I’m a witch,” he squeaks. “I can’t be a revenant.”

  “So the legends say,” I whisper huskily, a drop of saliva falling from one canine to pool in the hollow of his neck. “But I’d like to experiment first hand. Just to be certain.”

  Andre quivers, moaning in fear. “I beg you!”

  “Like I begged you?” I lean back, fury so powerful I can barely contain it. “No, wait. I never once begged, did I? No matter what you did to me. Never once.” His hate is in his eyes, enough I know he’s still fighting for a way to free himself. Like that will happen. Not now I have him here, in my control. “And that’s why you want me, isn’t it? Because you couldn’t break me. And it drives you mad.”

  Andre hits me hard with energy, but I’m ready for him, absorbing what I can, deflecting the rest. My claw lashes out, catches his handsome, aristocrat’s face along the line of his cheekbone, through the soft flesh of his cheek, under the line of his jaw. Four parallel slices, deep enough to scar, fed with magic to make sure they never, ever heal.

  He howls in agony, an animal struggling under me. My wolf pants, sensing prey, wanting to kill him, to end this hunt, but I push her down. Not yet. I will have my pleasure from him first.

  Something rumbles overhead, pulling me out of my attention to his pain. Andre collapses under me, passed out from the agony, but I’m not focused on him anymore. Not when another rumble shakes the stone above, dropping a fine mist of dust over us. I climb from his silent body, werewolf shape carrying me silently to the door. It’s locked, but my magic is enough to open it, now Andre’s magic no longer binds it closed. The moment I touch it, another massive thud echoes down from upstairs, the ground under my feet vibrating from the power.

  A battle goes on above me. But who is fighting? I glance back at Andre, passed out, bleeding, and make a choice to leave him behind. He’s not going anywhere, not worth further effort or consideration. Not when I have a fight to investigate.

  The door opens into a stone corridor, ending in a blank wall on one end, a set of stairs on the other. I glance through a partially open space, see a wine cellar. So I was right, th
is is a basement. My paws are silent on the stone as I climb, turning to wooden stairs and a finely wrought handrail of black-painted iron. I reach the top, the main floor, in a giant kitchen. This has to be an estate of some kind, perhaps a winery, the kitchen appearing industrial. My power reaches out, seeking those who fight, and encounters a familiar dose of magic.

  Charlotte! Tallah’s mind grasps onto mine. You’re all right!

  I’m here. I feel the pressure of black emptiness as Piers latches onto me.

  I’m going to kill whoever did this, he snarls, then resurrect them and kill them again.

  It’s fine, I send. I’m okay. It’s the Dumonts and Caine’s pack.

  We know. Tallah’s mind shows me the fight, the pack now in retreat through what looks like a vineyard, into the hills beyond. Where are you?

  In the main house, I’m guessing, I send. I’m coming to you. Andre is below. You might want to send someone to make sure he doesn’t bleed to death.

  Tallah’s hesitation ends abruptly. If you say so, she sends.

  I slip past the huge island with the stovetop and giant sinks, most of me with Tallah and Piers. It’s not until I hear a soft chuff of air I realize my mistake, the scent of her reaching me an instant before Viveca’s claws whistle over my head.

  I roll, tucking myself forward, sweeping out my own claws toward her legs. She howls her fury, leaping for me, jaws open, her werewolf form foaming at the mouth. I hit her hard in the breast bone as she tries to land on me, power taking her full in the chest, sending her back to crash into the island, sliding across the slick surface of the stove and over the other side.

  My paws scramble over the ceramic tile floor, seeking purchase as I crouch, preparing to leap. She beats me to it, surging up and over the island, both clawed hands out, her own magic formed into a shimmering hammer before her. I dodge to the right, spinning to grasp her hips and increase her momentum, shoving her forward into the heavy wooden table and chairs at the other end of the room. She crashes headfirst into the old oak, collapsing, shaking her head from the stunning blow.