I burst out laughing. “That has to be the most pathetic enticement I’ve ever heard. Oren, you’re terrible at this! If I were Bishop I’d be embarrassed that I’d let you get this far along in your delusions.” I edged towards the warehouse again. Just a few more feet and I’d be at the door.
Oren bristled, but tried to ignore me, but I saw the corner of Eli’s mouth twitch. He was still my Eli, somewhere in there.
“You don’t need to kill her to get me to join you, Oren. You’ve taught me a lot about what it means to be a Laudan… and I believe you have my best interests at heart. I want to be better, I want to be powerful.”
A broad smile spread over Oren’s face and he stepped toward Eli with his hand extended. Eli took it, and I felt the brush of something cold over the back of my neck.
“And you will be. You’ve made the right choice, Eli,” said Oren warmly, shaking his hand. “But we’re still going to kill the bitch. Loose ends. You understand.”
Eli didn’t flinch; he just nodded, gripping Oren’s hand longer than necessary. The Laudan nearest to me weren’t paying attention to me, but that wouldn’t last long. All Oren needed to do was give the order, and I was charcoal.
Without warning, Eli yanked hard on Oren’s hand, pulling him close. He whispered something I couldn’t hear into the Blood Outlaw leader’s ear and then leaned down, his mouth opened wide.
“Oren!” someone in the crowd shouted, but it was too late. Eli’s fangs were in Oren’s throat, ripping and tearing. Dark blood spilled down the leader’s shirt, splashing onto the concrete. There was a scream of rage, and all hell broke loose.
Bishop and the elders materialized out of the dark, coming to Eli’s rescue. Bats swooped low, transforming in mid-air to attack the mob from inside its ranks. Laudan against Laudan. Punks vs suits. Screams and roars filled the air; dark blood splattered the buildings and the concrete. One by one, the Blood Outlaws fell to the elders.
Eli dropped Oren’s limp body to the concrete and turned to face another rebel who lunged for him.
“Hitea! This is all your fault!” It was the bartender who’d called the Malleus on me. He was covered in blood that wasn’t his own, and I braced myself for whatever was going to come next. Magic crackled in my palms, and I waited for him to charge. I would be able to get at least one good hit in, but that was probably it.
He roared, his mouth opening wide, but the charge never came. I must have blinked, but in that time, the bartender’s head had been crushed under the heavy boot of one of Bishop’s followers. Church.
“I always hated him,” he said before turning his attention to another Outlaw.
I smiled weakly. Friends in low places.
The fight was intense, and I could feel the tide turning. There would be no way to break Eli out of his blood rage now; I just had to let it happen. Also, I had to get the fuck out of harm’s way.
A body crashed into the side of the building, leaving a bloody smear as it slid to the ground.
Quickly.
I turned my back on the battle, hoping that they would all be too preoccupied to notice me. The sliding door was open just a little, but not enough to slide my ass through it. Figures.
I looked desperately at the melee, and then leaned my shoulder into the door. My boots slid on the concrete, but I felt it move just a little. I pushed harder and felt my magic lend its own pressure. The door screamed on its hinged and moved a little more. I threw my backpack inside, and squeezed through. It was a tight fit and I had to push a little harder to get inside and in my desperation to get away from all that vampire bullshit I forgot to check my surroundings.
I fell heavily on the concrete floor that stank of motor oil and seawater and otter shit. It was a boat shed. Not a warehouse. Illuminated by the light that spilled from the open door, I saw boats in various stages of abandoned repair suspended from hooks or balanced on cinderblocks. A scrapyard. Shredded plastic floated against the sides of the boats.
I stood up painfully. Everything hurt.
The noise of the Laudans outside was muffled somewhat, and I scrambled to push the door closed. Another body crashed into the door just above my head, and I bit my lip sharply to keep from crying out in surprise.
Don’t give yourself away. You just have to wait until dawn. That’s it.
Stay in the boat shed, drink your wine and wait for the vampires to get tired of killing each other. No big deal. Typical Tuesday night.
The door hit the end of its track with a thud and I breathed a sigh of relief. The building was dark and cool. The body that had hit the door as I had closed it was blocking some of the light that illuminated my boots. It was also bleeding, and a thick black puddle was beginning to form under my heels.
I leaned against the metal and wood door and closed my eyes, waiting for my heart to stop pounding. The muffled noise from outside had dulled to a comforting roar. I could handle this, and tomorrow, I’d be giving Bishop a piece of my mind.
“Ophelia.”
My eyes flew open and I squinted into the dark. I knew that voice, but it sounded different.
“Lacey?”
The clack of two rocks striking together echoed in the building and a fire blazed to life. It crackled and smoked and I narrowed my eyes as someone stepped into the firelight.
“Happy Halloween.” A man wearing a black robe stepped forward, dragging Lacey with him. She struggled weakly and reached out to me.
“Ophelia!”
Ah, fuck.
23
“You’re right on time, bruja. I knew the Laudan wouldn’t be able to hold up their end of the bargain.” The man sneered, and I saw the scar on his cheek. I gave him that. I could do it again.
“That’ll teach you to make deals with immortal children posing as adults,” I said with a shrug. “You don’t scare me. I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again.” I pointed at Lacey. “What the fuck did you bother bringing her here for? It’s not as if she’s my friend or anything, we just work together. You should have taken my cat. I actually give a shit about my cat.”
I’d apologize to Lacey later, but this was how it worked in the movies. I had to play it cool. Pretend I didn’t care. I’d never let her get hurt, but they didn’t have to know that. I hate liabilities, and Lacey was a giant fucking liability.
It was going to take a really big memory wipe to fix this.
“You don’t understand anything, do you, bruja?” The man said, a gold tooth glinting in the firelight. The blaze flared, growing taller and throwing sparks into the rafters. There were more men in black cloaks gathered around the edges of the fire.
“I understand that you’re all a bunch of crazy assholes chasing orders from hundreds of years ago. What I don’t understand is why you do it? Whose bright idea was it to burn women as punishment for being themselves, huh? Who came up with that brilliant plan? Some of the women you burnt weren’t even witches. Do you even feel bad about that? Your Intel is bullshit, your methods are antiquated, and you should be embarrassed to even be seen with these idiots.”
“You’re missing the point, bruja, we don’t burn indiscriminately, and our orders come from someone greater than the ones who instructed our forefathers,” the man’s tone was reverent, as though he was speaking about the Pope.
I snorted and leaned down to pull the bottle of wine from my backpack. I opened the cap and flicked it towards him. It bounced off his chest and onto the boathouse floor.
“You, my friend, are delusional. Why has everyone lost their minds?” I took a drink and set the bottle down on the floor. “Lacey, do you want to go home? I want to go home. I’m covered in oil, there’s blood in my hair that doesn’t even belong to me, and it’s after midnight. Nothing good happens after midnight. Family rule.” I looked at the Malleus, holding his gaze firmly. “You want a witch? I’ll give you one.”
He dropped Lacey to the floor and balled his massive hands into fists. I smiled just a little.
Magic crackled in my
palms and I took three quick steps forward and planted both hands on his chest. Power arced into his body, and he was lifted off his feet and propelled into the side of a forgotten fishing trawler that was balanced on cinder blocks before crashing to the concrete. The boat groaned, shuddering under the weight of the impact.
The Malleus leader’s scream of pain and surprise was cut off abruptly when I reached out with my magic and pulled the boat down on top of him.
I dusted off my hands and looked at the rest of the morons in cloaks. “Well?” I asked brightly, “Who’s next? If you all come at me one at a time, that would be super helpful.”
A thick, dark chuckle bubbled up from Lacey’s slumped form and I leaned down to pull her up. “Lacey, come on, we have to get out of here.” She allowed me to pull her to a sitting position, but I couldn’t pull her to her feet, she was suddenly too heavy for me. It was impossible. She was five foot nothing and shouldn’t have weighed more than a prize winning pumpkin, but I couldn’t move her.
“What the shit,” I muttered, tugging on her arm. Lacey turned her head, and I saw that her face was marked with scratches, as though she’d dragged her nails over her cheeks.
But it was her eyes that made me step back. Those black, black eyes. Eyes that made the magic in my blood freeze solid.
I stumbled back, tripping on my own feet and falling on my ass on the concrete. Lacey swayed and her mouth opened wide – impossibly wide as a plume of dark, inky smoke spilled out, pooling on the floor in heavy tendrils. The dark mist formed into a vaguely human shape, growing taller and more solid as the vapor poured out of Lacey’s mouth.
As the figure materialized, Lacey slumped to the ground, motionless. I reached out with my magic, desperate to know that she was still alive.
There. A pulse. But it was so faint.
“Ophelia Turner.” The voice was thick and rich, ancient but vibrant, and it filled me with a terror that I couldn’t explain.
I looked back at the smoky figure and watched with wide eyes as it took on the shape of a woman. “Traveler of the Path. Torchbearer. Daughter of Hecate…”
The mysterious figure lifted her spectral hands to her face and in a smooth motion, wiped away the smoke to reveal porcelain skin, and pale lips, the tendrils of smoke that framed the perfect face became strands of thick dark hair, and in the blink of an eye, the woman from the witch trials stood before me. Cloaked in the inky smoke she stared at me with her black eyes, a soft smile on her full lips.
“You,” I choked on the word. “You killed my mother, my aunt… my sister…”
“Witches, Ophelia. I killed witches,” her tone was matter of fact, casual.
“My sister was a child!” I shouted, dragging myself to my feet. “She was a child and you killed her, I watched you laugh while they burned.”
“It was a day like any other, to you, their deaths were the most important event in all your long lives… to me it was nothing. A stepping-stone. A necessary detour. But you, Ophelia Turner,” She lifted a ghostly finger to scold me. “You escaped. I thought I’d found you in Salem, but you slipped through my fingers. Safe in New York.”
I shook my head, my teeth gritted in anger. “What are you doing? Why are you hunting me? I’m nothing.”
“Oh, no, Ophelia. You are everything.” The woman came closer, her hand outstretched to caress my cheek. Her fingers were cold, and the black smoke swirled around our bodies as I recoiled from her touch. “You, and your mother, and your sister… every single Daughter of Hecate who died screaming in the fires of the witchfinders served a purpose. Of course, there are always innocent casualties along paths to immortality.”
My eyes flickered to Lacey, sprawled on the floor. The black smoke that made up the edge of the strange woman’s cloak trailed over Lacey’s legs and wound through her fingers.
“You’re insane. What will killing Daughters do for you, for anyone? I don’t know anything, I can’t give you anything. I don’t even remember the proper rituals… if you’re trying to piss off the Goddess; you picked the wrong Daughter to use to get her attention.”
The woman smiled, her black eyes glittering in the firelight. Something else caught my eye, over her shoulder, one of the Malleus reached a torch into the blaze and set it to the plastic that had covered the boat I’d pulled on top of their leader. A fitting end, I guess. But I wasn’t too keen on the torches… or the fires that were now being lit all along the edges of the boathouse.
I could make a break for it. I could run for the door, I could dive into the scummy water that lapped at the edge of the dry dock. I eyed the oily water briefly before reconsidering my options.
Ew. Maybe not.
“What are you trying to prove, anyway? What happens when you kill all the witches in the world? Do you get some kind of trophy? Are you Queen of the Witch Hunters now? I’ll let you in on a little secret, these guys are fucking useless, you don’t want to be their Queen.” I was getting tired of this guessing game. Why did these villains always want the hero to guess what the fuck their grand plan was? I didn’t have time for this.
The woman laughed and passed her misty hands over her face again, wiping away the familiar face I hated. The one that replaced it was different, and yet entirely similar… pale, with empty black eyes and lips painted black with charcoal. Her breath smelled like death and ash as she pushed her face close to mine.
“You think too small, Khthonia, my goals are much loftier,” she hissed, pulling the smoke that made up her cloak around her tightly. I felt my throat tighten as I watched the flames move higher up the walls. Everything about this place was flammable. The oil on the concrete, the water, the paint, the gas cans… this place would go off like the Fourth of July, and there was no way I was going to be able to get Lacey out in time.
“Do you know what day it is?” the woman shouted. I raised an eyebrow. Seriously?
“It’s Halloween. You’re fucking crazy, and I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said. Magic sparked in my palm once more and I stepped forward, planting it in the middle of the woman’s chest, prepared to blow a hole in the side of the boathouse with her body.
But instead of connecting with solid flesh, my hand passed straight through the woman’s chest and, propelled by my weight, I stumbled forward, skidding to a stop beside Lacey’s prone form.
“You are foolish, and ill prepared for what awaits you. Tonight is Trioditis, the Crossroads of Hecate. Your mother should have taught you these things, but even if she did not, your blood remembers. You carry more memory in your veins than you deserve, and you have misused your gifts. I can smell the corruption of your lives and everything that has yet to pass, and with it all the ways in which you have disgraced your Goddess. Her servants are not worthy of their powers.”
Did she just call me corrupt? Unworthy?
“Hey! Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t talk to me like that–“
Ah, shit. Me and my big mouth again.
The woman opened her arms, her cloak of dark mist spreading like wings, a blast of hot wind pushed me back, towards the fire that was burning steadily behind me.
“I am the daughter of Chaos… forgotten and shunned by my own daughters. Surpassed. I should command your reverence. I should be deserving of your fear. In the old ages, humankind trembled in gratitude under the light of the sun, and when he fled before me, they cowered in my shadow. Until she came into the world.”
“Wait a minute, do you really expect me to believe that? You gave birth to the moon and now you’re pissed off that no one cares about you anymore? Wake the fuck up, no one cares about anything anymore! Do you think these people are going to cower in front of you? These people only cower when their cell phone batteries die or they don’t get coffee before 8am. Your priorities are all out of whack.” I sounded confident, but I was fucking terrified.
It all sounded crazy, and if I didn’t know anything about the ancients, or what they believed, I would have moonwalked out of there laughing. But
I knew who this was.
Nyx. Goddess of Night. The literal representation of everything dark and evil in the ancient world. Hecate’s birth had been an accident, devastating to the primordial goddess who seethed in front of me. The light of the moon had given humans the strength to conquer their fear of the darkness; they had raised Hecate up, supplanting her mother in their worship.
My mother had told me that the Goddess had hidden with her shame, forgotten and alone, but it was becoming really clear that she had remained hidden to plan her revenge, and she was playing the longest game imaginable.
“If I cannot command reverence, I will create it. Without the moon, darkness will prevail once more.”
“Yeah, but that only works for like twelve hours, your plan is sounding shittier all the time. I mean, you’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and this was all you could come up with? Twelve hours of dominance… I mean, have you been to Vegas? I hate to break it to you, but those lights never go out.”
“Silence!” A blast of hot air blew me another step back, another step closer to the flames. “In taking the Daughters of Hecate from this earth, I am not only conquering the moon, but my darkness will soon swallow the sun. He is already my prisoner.”
“I hope he’s got a safe word,” I muttered. The fire was closer now, and I was getting desperate for a backup plan.
I lashed out with my magic, trying to buy myself some time, but the goddess burst into mist and reformed, closer. Ashes and death followed her and I choked on it as she wrapped her smoky fingers around my throat.
“You are the last of the Daughters of Hecate. I have spent countless centuries hunting your kind, searching you out, and delighting in your deaths at the hands of those you trusted. Humans are so easy to manipulate, so easy to turn, and now you have no one left. You are all alone, Propylaia.”
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 17
