by Lee Roland
I smiled and sipped the foul tea. Cassandra cut through things with razor-sharp words. I liked it. Abigail stood and walked out the back door.
“Damn,” Cassandra said. “Now I’ve upset her.” Far less affable now, she narrowed her eyes. “But I still consider the Barrows mine. I suggest you tell me who you’re here to kill.”
I set the teacup on the saucer. I formulated what I hoped would be a believable scenario. Her deadly familiars would probably strike at her command. “I’ve been sent to retrieve an object from a thief. I will do what is necessary to obtain it, but I’m not here as an assassin.”
The snake crawled onto my hand. I sat very still. Cassandra nodded. She relaxed, apparently accepting my statement, at least. “From the sound of it, the Earth Mother is definitely playing chess with us again. Abby’s gang of witches and your Sisters are her game pieces.” She sighed with what seemed begrudging acceptance. She shifted her body awkwardly. “There’s nothing we can do about it. But thank you for saving Michael’s life last night. The Archangel is very dear to me.”
“Archangel?”
“Michael. That’s what people call him. He runs the Archangel Studio down on River Street. Tall, blond, perfect body, perfect face. He owns the Goblin Den, too. I talked to him this morning. He told me what happened.” She grinned. “You really impressed him. He told me how beautiful, wonderful, and courageous you are. You hadn’t met him before you saved him?” She leaned forward, obviously intrigued.
I shook my head. Now I could put a name to the angel’s face. Michael. I tried not to think how he saw me last night, bloody and convulsing—dying. But he had called me beautiful, wonderful, and courageous? Surely he exaggerated for her.
Another thought struck me. If he owned the Goblin Den, he was my employer. I didn’t know how that would affect me yet, but it made my own feelings complicated.
The snake apparently decided I was okay and left me and returned to her. I managed to hold tight while the ferret licked my toes. I’d been accepted but was neither friend nor enemy yet.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” Cassandra echoed Riggs’s words.
“No.” I smiled at her. I felt a kinship with this woman. That kinship had no place in my life right now, any more than the man she called the Archangel, but I appreciated her warmth as I had appreciated Lillian’s in the cold halls of Justice.
Cassandra laughed. “Maybe we can have a spirited conversation after I squeeze out this litter. I’m told there are only two, but I have my doubts.”
I wanted to know who she was and her relationship to the Earth Mother, whom she had called Mom. For my own mother to speak of the Mother Goddess in such a manner would have been blasphemy. And yet the witch, Abigail, took no offense.
Abigail came through the back door. Her demeanor had changed. She was polite, but not warm. She insisted on feeding me. Cassandra gave me a pair of sneakers and more clothes. Apparently, she had lived at Abigail’s house at one time. Jeans and shirts, but I was grateful. Abigail returned my knife, wrapped in a soft cloth. “I cleaned it for you. If the bites were poisonous, the blood might be, as well. I burned your jacket, too.”
Cassandra insisted on driving me to the room I called home, though I wondered how she could reach the gas pedal and brake in her condition.
“Madeline.” Abigail stopped me as I started to follow Cassandra out. She laid a hand on my shoulder. “The Mother has a plan. She trusts you to carry it out.”
“Maybe. But I don’t trust her. I despise her.”
“Oh, I do understand. She has her schemes, and as Cassandra often says, we are merely puppets made of blood, muscle, and bone.” She sighed. “I believe she does care about us in her own way, though. Nevertheless, please forgive my earlier words. If you are hurt, or become ill, come to me. I’m a healer. I should be above such angry personal feelings. I respond to need, not politics.”
“Thank you.” I admired her control, that she could put aside a witch’s natural concerns to aid me.
“I do not understand why I couldn’t heal you using my regular methods. Why I had to go through the scar. The Mother is absolutely silent on that one matter.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Will you tell me why they sent someone inexperienced to this dangerous place? You’re more than a novice, but not a full Sister. Are you a rogue? Will they show up on my doorstep looking for you?”
“No. I have an assignment. As I told Cassandra, it involves retrieval rather than assassination, though assassination might be the result.” I stayed with the simple truth; a powerful witch could easily pick out a lie.
Mother Evelyn had warned me. A complex and justifiably uncomfortable relationship apparently existed between the Sisters of Justice and the earth witches. I’d seen it in my own home growing up. My mother had definitely played politics, constantly on the phone with other witches, chattering. As a young girl, I had thought them cool, that confab of the keepers of the world’s magic. I wasn’t sure what to think of them now.
Chapter 8
Cassandra drove. I didn’t know much about Duivel, but it seemed we were north of the Barrows. When we reached River Street, she turned the car toward Duivel. “I spent ten years working in the Barrows,” she said. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know what’s going on around here anymore. Things have changed since I went into Mommy mode. I can do one thing, though. Nirah and Tau say I can trust you. Abby and Mom are going to be totally pissed, but I’m going to do this anyway.”
“Nirah and Tau?”
“Snake with venom and rodent with big teeth.” The snake remained in her hair, but the ferret had crawled under my seat.
She drove north through the suburbs and into the outskirts of Duivel. After a few minutes, she pulled into the parking lot of the Down Wind Gun Range. The parking lot looked like pickup truck central. The range itself was blocked by twelve-foot-high earthen walls. When we climbed out, Cassandra opened the trunk and handed me a satchel. “This is my gun. Shoulder holster, too. Now they’re yours. I’ll put you in touch with my bronze bullet guy. I have a couple of hundred rounds I’ll give you, too. In the meantime, I’ll get you some regulars to practice with.” She grinned. “If I know Mom, she’s sent you here with no money and an impossible task to fulfill.”
I had absolutely no money at all after my evening had been interrupted with violence. Kelly had probably absconded with my few tips.
“Bronze bullets?” I accepted the satchel. I’d spent hours learning to shoot. Sister Eunice and the others had me crawl through the woods and creep silently through an abandoned warehouse, miles from Justice. I was no stranger to a gun.
“When I came here, there were all kinds of monsters in the Barrows’ ruins. The only thing that would kill them were weapons of bronze or massive trauma. The Earth Mother sent me into the Barrows at eighteen, carrying only a bronze knife. My job was to rescue kids in danger who’d been kidnapped, lured into, or ran away to the Barrows. My husband, Flynn—his sister was one of those kids. That’s how I met him. There are things in the Barrows that would’ve visited unspeakable things on those kids. Still, Abby and Mom frowned on guns. ‘Bullets are not bronze’ was always Abby’s excuse.” She laughed, a joyous sound for such a deadly subject. “Well, I found someone to make bronze bullets and I used them. Jump one of those things in the Barrows with just a knife and the probability of you surviving is virtually zero.”
I had to smile. “Yes, I know that now.”
She drew the gun from the satchel. “If you’d had this last night, you could have saved yourself a lot of pain.”
I accepted the satchel and we headed into the range. Everyone, mostly men, stared when we walked in, but for once not at me. The very pregnant woman waddling in front of me received all the attention. Two hailed Cassandra by name; another called her Huntress. Others carefully stepped out of her way. The manager followed us, nervous but unobtrusive. Huntress. The finder of lost children.
Cassandra paid for me to practice on s
tationary targets and run a course where cardboard figures popped up out of nowhere. To my delight and the gun range manager’s dismay, she followed me and cheered me on. I tried to match her enthusiasm but wound up sore, dirty, and aching.
I was amazed at the power of Abigail the witch. Last night, I had lain paralyzed and dying, seemingly beyond saving. And yet, at the Mother’s command, Abigail had drawn from the purest magic of the earth and channeled it through herself—enough power to not only save me but return me to good physical shape. The Mother had also told her how to heal me using the scar. A strong spell like that weakened a witch for a while. Abigail would pay a price for what she freely gave me.
When we finished, Cassandra grabbed me and gave me an awkward hug. She wanted to be friends. I wasn’t sure it was something I could deal with. I’d spent all those years at Justice as a loner, living only to fight and learn my lessons.
“Will you tell me about Michael?” I asked once we were back in the car. We were headed toward the Barrows and stalled in traffic. “Or is it too personal?”
“No, not that personal. I heard him talking about what you did last night. You made a powerful impression on him. But there are things you need to know about Michael. He’s not exactly like everyone else. He’s—” She stopped, as if she’d heard something. Then silence filled the car as the clamor of the street disappeared. Cassandra froze, her hands gripping the steering wheel with great intensity. Alarmed, I started to touch her arm when her breath hissed through her teeth. In a moment, everything returned to normal.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything. I’ve been told that you have to learn about Michael on your own.”
I stared at her. “You receive instructions from the Earth Mother? Did she just talk to you?” I tried not to sound incredulous. I’d heard—even seen—the Mother myself last night, but that was the first time, and the situation had been critical. On rare occasions, she spoke to my mother, who described it as a profoundly religious experience. Cassandra, who was not a witch, was on speaking terms with what my mother considered a goddess.
Cassandra nodded. “Yes, she talks in my head from time to time. At least she wasn’t mad about the gun.” I was intrigued, but I decided not to press her.
I looked out the window. “The Earth Mother abandoned me and my family years ago. I’ve made my own way since then. I’ll do it now, too.” She had come to Abigail last night to save my life, but it was not enough to make up for the destruction she allowed to happen. “I despise her.”
Cassandra winced at my words. “She gave me strength, the ability to see well in dark places, a killer sense of direction. Madeline, she must’ve given you something, too, if she sent you here.”
“Not that I’m aware of. I’m not a Huntress. Just the daughter of a witch.”
Cassandra laughed. “Trust me, the Mother didn’t give me much more than that to work with. Everything I learned about fighting, I did on my own or with the help of some special friends. You, at least, had lessons. Maybe that’s the Mother’s gift to you. That you are trained to fight.”
“I would not call my years in prison or at Justice a gift from anyone.”
Cassandra sighed. “Mom works in mysterious ways. Like the gun thing. For five years, I rescued children and dodged Bastinados with fists and knives. Thank goodness that I had Abby to love me, heal me, and provide sanctuary when things got rough. When I took the gun off a Bastinado, Mom wasn’t happy.”
“Why?” I asked. It seemed like a logical thing to do.
“Mom lives in the past. Knives, not guns; that’s her way.”
Cassandra’s casual use of Mom for the sacred Earth Mother still amazed me. I rubbed the blister on my finger and flexed my sore wrist.
“I think that’s the idea,” Cassandra said. “She didn’t want me to do callous killing at a distance. For me to become a cold-blooded killer.”
“Cold-blooded killer? Like the Sisters of Justice? How hypocritical—and typical.”
“The Earth Mother doesn’t live by our ideas of justice. She’s ancient. In the past, she was worshipped, or at the very least respected.”
“That was thousands of years ago,” I reminded her. “Time to evolve.”
Cassandra sighed. “I know. You’d think things would get better. But she’s been even worse lately. A lot of it has to do with what happened a couple of years ago. There was a dark moon conjunction—stars lining up and all that shit—and some stuff went down in the Barrows that I don’t even totally understand. It changed the Barrows. It changed her. I know it changed me a lot.”
I was confused by her vague words. “Is this conjunction something you’re allowed to talk about?”
“No. This, and Michael, are off-limits.” She saw my look of annoyance.
“One thing to remember, Madeline: She’s not human. She plots, plans, and schemes, never consistently. She sees possibilities of things to come and dumps one of us into the fray in hopes that things will turn out okay. There’s not much you can do about it. She considers you hers, even if you never took a vow to serve her. She thinks meddling in your life is her right. The bad thing is, she once told me she has rules she has to follow, just like us.” She shivered and laid an arm across her stomach, across her babies. “Someone, something, is more powerful than she is. I don’t like to think about who—or what—that is.”
Cassandra had given me many things to think about. That the Earth Mother had to answer to some higher power was beyond what my small mind could conceive.
We drove south on River Street and Cassandra dropped me off at Harry’s. Before she left me there, she said, “When I made my vow, Mom promised me compensation. It happened, but I had to earn it. The gifts she gave me, strength and speed, were simply tools to help me do my job. I got my reward, though. I got my husband, Flynn, and this.” She rubbed a loving hand over her bulging belly.
“A reward?” I shook my head. Her halfhearted attempt to convince me of the fairness of the Earth Mother and the burdens she had to bear didn’t move me. The Sisters fought, but at least they were trained. The Earth Mother had thrown Cass into the shit without a thought. “Cassandra, from what you say, it seems to me like its payment for a job. A dangerous job that almost killed you several times. She owes you more.”
She gave a faint smile. After I waved good-bye to her, I had to get another key from Harry since mine was in my jacket, which Abigail said she burned. He wasn’t happy about it. I went upstairs and sorted the clothes Cassandra had given me. Jeans, knit shirts, and best of all, a light, comfortable jacket that would cover my knife, and—if I wore it—the gun. I shoved the satchel to the back of a shelf in my tiny closet. It was actually a problem for me at the moment. Eunice had taught me that if you have a weapon and go around flashing it where everyone can see it, some hothead would challenge you to use it. Eunice, however, loved a good battle and would occasionally go out of her way to pick a fight, especially with me. I had no inclination to do so myself.
A knock came at the door. I drew my knife and held it ready.
When I opened the door, Riggs stood there.
He glanced at the knife. “Who are you expecting?”
“Not you.” I let him in.
He handed me a bag. “Here’s a new uniform. Last night’s tips and a week’s advance on salary. In case you need anything.”
A week seemed generous, but maybe he was feeling guilty. His only warning to me had been “Stay in the light.” I accepted the money.
He stared around at my room; then his attention came back to me. “When I came out the back door last night . . . I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“The thing you killed? No. They started coming into the Barrows about eight months ago. But that’s not what I mean. You . . . across the lot . . . You almost flew up to meet the thing. I didn’t think anyone could move that fast. Who are you?”
“Your bartender.” If I wouldn’t answer questions for an earth wi
tch, I certainly wouldn’t answer his.
Riggs picked up on my reticence. “Michael said he’d see you later. Would you take tonight off? Maybe rest?”
The workout at the gun range had left me exhausted. I could probably recover, but . . . “Rest would be good.”
Riggs had taken both the Drow attack and my miraculous healing in stride. What had he seen that inured him to such things?
“Is it okay if I wear my knife tomorrow night?”
“You do whatever makes you comfortable.”
I thanked him. After he left, I counted my money. The week’s advance was more than minimum wage. I’d be okay for at least a month. I realized the whole incident with Michael and the Drow had set me on a different path. When I hunted the first two men, I completely shut out any unnecessary interaction with others around me. That way wouldn’t work here. My mission to return the Portal to the Sisters and kill the third murderer had taken a more complex turn.
Michael owned the Goblin Den. He would probably come in and thank me. Not something I would relish, but it was inevitable. He’d have questions I might not be able to answer, but he might answer some of mine. Sometimes people answered my questions just to get rid of me. The scar and my hair made them anxious to get away. I realized things were different here, though. Riggs wasn’t like that; nor was Hildy. Even Abigail and Cassandra saw past my odd appearance. The people I truly connected with took no note of it.
What would Michael think? My connection with him was something so odd and new to me, I had no clue.
Of course, I had a mission that came with the scar. I couldn’t forget that.
I took out the picture of the third killer and headed out. I had a copy made at the small grocery store so I’d have an extra. I walked the street heading south, going into every business that was open. I gave each a story as to why I wanted the man. I told the pawnshop owner he owed me money. The owner could relate to that. So did the waitress at a small café that was closing for the day. I helped an elderly woman carry her packages up the stairs to her apartment and said he was my long-lost brother. Then I crossed River Street and made my way back up to Harry’s. I’d learned nothing.
