by Lee Roland
She recognized the psychic tug of a warding spell when she crossed the threshold of the library. At least there was no white in this room. She let her witch-sight take over. All the books, thousands of them, glowed with magic. The carpet shifted slightly under her feet, and she realized it wasn’t fiber, but soft beige fur. If an intruder did get past the door ward, the fuzzy rug would probably come to life as a suffocating monster. Sethos went to the bar to mix drinks while the others sat on leather furniture grouped in the room’s center. No one looked comfortable.
Maeve wanted to examine the books. Her taste in literature ran toward paranormal romance and adventure novels picked up on the road, but she wasn’t likely to find those here. She approached a single book on a pedestal, her hands grew cold, and her muscles tightened. Fear usually came and went for her, and she rarely became incapacitated. This fear, however, with the malevolence radiating from the book, surpassed anything she’d ever faced. It reached out to grasp her, like a living being with claws to hook flesh and bone, and drag her into death’s maw. She drew back, fists clenched.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Sethos spoke softly from behind her.
Maeve faced him. His expression was not that of the yammering fool who’d hosted the dinner party.
“It’s evil.”
“Oh yes, delightfully evil.” He wiggled his pudgy white fingers. “I can’t use it. I can’t control it, I can’t bring myself to destroy it, so I try to keep the thing out of the wrong hands. This room is well guarded, I assure you.”
Tana had said she couldn’t get close enough to read Sethos’s aura. He was safe with Maeve because she lacked that ability. Oh, if only Flor had come with her. Or not. How would that unpredictable little witch deal with the evening’s chaos?
Sethos held his hand over the book but did not touch it. “You wonder about me, of course. I am not a witch in the traditional sense. I am simply a practitioner of the craft. The conceit of Elder is that its residents believe they are the only ones who can use magic.”
The conceit of Elder. True words offered from an unexpected source. Flor was a perfect example of Elder’s misconception—an alien witch from a place and a culture that had no position in the history of Elder witches. Maeve’s education described witches as using magic because of an inborn genetic trait and associated creatures were magic in a living form, like the dragons and harpies.
“Tana says magic isn’t good or evil, that it follows its user’s intent. What do you think?”
Sethos smiled at her. “Dear Tana is the most honorable witch I know, but the conceit of Elder applies to her too. She rarely looks beyond her own little world. Unlike you, dear Maeve, who have traveled and discovered something new with your lovely little friend.”
He wanted information on Flor. No way. Since he was obviously offering information himself, though it might be lies, she pushed on with another question. “Why have you made Elder into a prison?”
He shrugged. “Security. Right now, with Claire’s guidance in magic, we are developing medicines in this factory that will alter the course of the world. Within fifty years, disease and pestilence will no longer exist. There are those who would demand our healing products to use as weapons. We must protect ourselves.”
“Nice. But there will always be war. Eradicating disease would only increase the population faster. Create more people to fight over less territory. What kind of world will that be?”
Sethos studied her. Had she touched on a truth important to him?
“War is a disease I can’t cure because it’s ground into our existence. Physical ills are all a poor pharmacist such as myself can deal with. Do you have any suggestions on world salvation?”
Maeve shrugged. “Birth control?”
Again, Sethos appeared surprised. Had he expected her to offer an inane solution to the world’s problems? Yes, she rode in trucks, love their drivers, but she was educated and knew many of the issues of mankind and witches.
“Come,” he said, “war and birth control are such depressing subjects. Let me get you more wine.” He waddled away. Maeve followed him to join the others in inane discussions of everything except the chaos and corruption around them.
Chapter Twenty
“This trip is taking too long,” Maeve said. The limo should have been at Tana’s front door by now.
“Father said I could take you on a factory tour. Aren’t you thrilled?” Erik’s voice was too casual, too much like he was taunting her. She suspected he wanted to continue the mauling Claire interrupted earlier in the evening.
“No. I don’t want a factory tour. I want to go back to Tana’s.” Maeve tried to keep the alarm out of her voice. She didn’t want to be around him any longer than she had to.
He laughed softly under his breath. “You don’t trust me?”
“You’ve chased me, shot at me, set hounds on me—what do you think? Aren’t you afraid of Tana? She’s waiting for me right now. If I—”
“I’ll get you home, Maeve. And yes, I’m afraid of Tana. Everyone except Father and Claire is afraid of Tana, especially after that little display at the tree. I would have killed them, if only for their stupidity, but she—”
“The tree? You mean the Patriarch? What happened? She said something about the Marshton girl only being thirteen.”
“Five troopers raped her, then let an ogre do the same. She died.”
“And Tana?”
“Hung all of them from the tree by their intestines, including the ogre. She cast a spell to keep them alive—and conscious. Quite a sight. I had to cut them down and carry them through the town’s lynch mob.”
“How awful for you.”
Extravagant justice? Isn’t that what Chaos the demon had said? Tana’s loving nature didn’t alter the fact that she was a witch. She cared for her own. When the first human settlers came, she persuaded the Council to allow them in so Elder would not be isolated. Magic might need magic to thrive, but it also needed communication with the rest of the world where it had to hide its true nature.
She had gathered her humans in like sheep and watched over them for several generations. Few of her flock remained today, but for now, they were safer outside Elder.
The limo stopped, and Erik opened his door. He caught her wrist in a fierce grip and pulled her behind him as he exited the car. Maeve didn’t fight him. She wanted to see where she stood in order to optimize her chances when she made a break, but she damned sure didn’t want to enter the factory with him.
The driver had parked the car by the loading docks, so the monstrous black structure now loomed over them. Garish mercury vapor light settled in pools here and there, but for the most part, the building belonged to the night.
“Aren’t there any guards?” Maeve asked. He kept her wrist in a savage grip.
Erik led her to a steel door. “Who would want to come here?”
He had a point. How strange, though. The road into Elder guarded, almost a maximum-security prison, and the appalling factory open to anyone. Were there unseen guards inside?
When he opened the door, Maeve planted her feet and jerked. Entering the building would be like entering a tomb, a ponderous monument to death. The air drifting from the open door smelled of arid extinction.
She broke his grip, whirled and ran—straight into another man. The limo driver? Probably. They both went down and before she could roll over, Erik had her again. He jerked her to her feet, stood behind her, and grasped her arms above the elbows.
The limo driver was already on his feet. Maeve recognized the young man from the motel in Arizona. Alex, yes, that was his name. Alex stared at her, and then his eyes glanced over her to Erik. The look on his face said he didn’t like what was happening. Erik’s hands tightened on Maeve’s arms. She’d carry bruises tomorrow.
“Please let her go, sir,” Alex said. He sounded concerned, not meek or afraid. “They won’t like it.”
He was warning Erik? Okay, that sounded like…what? Not soldier to comma
nder, but a relationship of a different nature. And who wouldn’t like it? Sethos? Claire?
Erik shoved her straight into Alex. With terrifying speed and strength, he jammed them both against the wall with Maeve’s body crushed between them. She couldn’t move. His right hand released Maeve’s arm and clamped on Alex’s throat. He choked and grabbed at Erik’s wrist with both hands.
“No!” Maeve cried out and struggled. She remembered what Erik had done to Pong.
“No? Then be an obedient little girl and come with me.” Erik laughed.
She gave in. “I’ll go. There’s no need to hurt him.”
Erik released him, and Alex gasped for breath. At the same time, he glared in fury. The boy wasn’t afraid. So what was his position with Erik? Lover? Could be. He was certainly attractive.
Erik stepped back but continued to hold her wrist. Then he stepped away, opened the door, released her, and gestured for her to enter. “You come too, Hania,” he said to the young man. “I think she likes you.”
Maeve stepped back and pretended she’d never met him. It wouldn’t do to have Erik know he had warned her at the motel. “Hania? Is that your name?”
He rubbed his throat. Maeve wasn’t the only one who would have bruises tomorrow. How odd. His expression was more annoyed than angry. “Alex,” he whispered. “Alex Hania.”
“Okay, Alex. I’m Maeve. Let’s go see what this vicious bastard wants to show me.”
Erik laughed. His eyes gleamed, even in the dim light. The ass certainly was enjoying himself.
Once inside, Erik led Maeve at a steady pace through a maze of hallways, a few lined up with closed doors, others blank wormholes with odd cuts and twists. Overhead domes illuminated most of them, but they passed several black openings that yawned like mouths into midnight. It seemed an endless path through unmarked twists and turns through the massive building.
The grumble and hum of machinery vibrated through the walls along the way. Erik stopped when they entered a bizarre, round room. Six evenly spaced doors were set into the walls. At one point, an elevator broke the pattern. A balcony circled the room above her head, and as best as she could see, had the same elevator and door arraignment.
“This is the concourse,” Erik said. “All hallways end here—eventually.” He walked to the elevator. For an inexplicable reason, the taunting bully had become serious as a schoolmaster. She found herself edging closer to Alex. Not because he could protect her, but because it kept as much distance as possible between herself and Erik.
Out of the elevator, he led them to another door, opened it, and they walked down a hall with large clear windows into what appeared to be a factory assembly line. Men and women, she could see at least fifty or sixty, dressed in white, bent over conveyers, sorting and packing. Where did these people come from? Did they drive in from Jessupville? Couldn’t have, no bridge, and no cars parked outside, too many people to have come from their small place on the map.
She’d followed one of her truckers into a factory once. Machinery, packers, and loaders kept an activity and noise level close to chaos. People shouted, talked to each other, supervisors wandered around; these workers stared at their work, silent and stone faced.
“Where do these people live,” Maeve asked Erik. “Those trailers across the road aren’t habitable.”
He didn’t face her when he spoke. “There are dormitories one floor below ground level. There’s a cafeteria and showers in other rooms. We run shifts, too. There is a bus that takes them to Jessupville. These will stay a little longer thanks to you.”
From the time she’d left the bridge and entered Elder, the only humans they had met were armed thugs. So many people, workers that should have come to town occasionally…it made no sense. More questions without answers. She wondered if she could get Alex alone and talk to him.
Watching the machinery, she noted one more confusing element. “Where does the power come from? The electric lines into Elder are the same, and they can’t produce that much electricity.”
“There’s a power plant where the river and waterfall come off Ogre Mountain.”
Maeve calculated the lab and assembly area covered two or three percent of an enormous building. What was in the rest? Storage was Erik’s answer when she asked. He’d obviously finished his tour.
Back to the elevator, up one floor, then down another hallway, where he stopped and opened a door. He ushered her into a modern apartment. Windows overlooked the vista of a full moon over Elder Valley. Across the broad expanse of meadow, she could see the lights of Tana’s house and realized that Tana had to look at the factory every time she walked out her back door. Erik flipped on the lights, and the scene faded to black.
Maeve faced him. Alex had followed them into the room.
“This is where I live,” Erik said. He held out his hands to encompass the room.
That he wouldn’t live in the crystal mansion wasn’t surprising, but she didn’t know why anyone would live in the miserable factory.
He stepped closer. Too close. His hand reached out and brushed her cheek.
“Go to Hell.” She slapped his hand away. “Are you supposed to seduce me?”
“That’s one of a number of scenarios discussed. Not my idea, of course. I prefer Hania. But you are a lovely creature. I certainly wouldn’t mind. Would it be that bad?”
“Shit, yes! You tried to kill me, and you poisoned my best friend. When I get my gun back, I might just shoot you for the joy of it. Not two hours ago, you molested me. Now you want me to fuck you? Of my own free will. Sorry, that’s too weird, even for me. Besides, Flor said you’d strangle me when you came.”
Erik laughed, and it was far more genuine than anything else she’d heard from him. He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Oh, pretty little Maeve. I have more class than that. You’d get a knife.”
“No!” Maeve jerked away, and he released her.
“No? That’s odd coming from you. I understand from a few truck drivers you don’t say it frequently.” He leered at her. “What about Hania? Isn’t he nice? Wouldn’t you like to play with him? I’ll watch. He’s younger than most of your truck drivers, and he’s much prettier.” He smiled at Alex, and while their relationship seemed complex, there was no mistaking the nature of that smile.
“What makes you think I’d want your whore?” Maeve swung at Erik with her free hand.
Erik blocked her arm. “Oh no, bitch. You owe me. I chased you across the country, and you’re mine now. You can’t get out of this room, and you’re going to stay until I get a reward for my trouble.”
Alex standing behind Erik drew himself up as if to interfere. He’d get hurt. She couldn’t let that happen.
Maeve opened herself to magic. She’d never fought a battle on that level. She’d never had to gather magic to strike another individual. With all the outrage she could gather, she lashed out at Erik.
Erik froze, his face darkened with strain.
Magic charged the room and flickered around them like mosquitoes, yearning for blood. It raced and whirled, out of control, whipping up a firestorm of supernatural energy. Without warning, witch-sight overcame her and revealed what she should have seen, or at least felt.
Erik was a witch, like her. That wasn’t surprising, but there was a barrier between him and the magic. He couldn’t touch the magic she accepted as her birthright. An incompetent witch, but a witch nevertheless, magic was Maeve’s life giving breath and her soul. Her outrage at his bullying paled beside empathy and the deep drawn terror of possessing the magic and not being able to touch it.
She had to act. She tore at the barrier between him and magic like a pit bull savaging another dog in the fighting ring. Part of it dissipated. A little more and…a psychic backhand slapped her away and sent her spinning out of witch-sight and back into the normal world.
She staggered and righted herself, but Erik fell to his knees. Alex was suddenly beside him, concern plain on his face. He wrapped an arm around Erik’s shoulde
rs and held him steady.
Maeve assessed the situation. She’d tried to free Erik from his binding and been slapped down by an alien magic that bore no resemblance to anything she had ever experienced in her life.
“I’m all right,” Erik said to Alex. He drew several deep breaths. “Take her home.”
Alex stared up at Maeve and then helped Erik to his feet and led him to a couch. Erik clung to Alex as he lowered himself down.
Her body and mind tingled, but she felt fine, possibly a little energized. She wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, but she wanted to try.
“Erik, what was that? I almost tore through it. That wall around you. What hit me, forced me away?”
“Nothing. My business. Go home.”
Alex caught her arm and gently, but firmly, steered her out of the apartment. He led her down the hall, through the area Erik called the concourse, and out into a warehouse area. As they crossed it, a finger, a magic spike, brushed in her mind.
Maeve whirled, searching for the source. Flor’s SUV, the one they’d abandoned behind the convenience store in New Mexico, was parked in the shadows across the room. She jerked away from Alex and went to it.
Alex came after her. “Where are you going?”
“To get Flor’s car.”
“No. You can’t, he—”
“Thief.” She spit the word at him.
“Yes. You can’t have it unless the Commander says it’s okay. Taking it will cause trouble for you. It’s just a car. You have another. Pick something more important to fight over.”
She reached the vehicle, flung the driver’s door open, and searched for the keys. Nothing. Flor said she started the van with magic and not light-fingered dexterity, so where was the magic when she needed it? It damned sure wasn’t in the SUV.
Alex remained polite, but he wouldn’t budge. When she opened the SUV’s door, she’d spied Flor’s suitcase on the back seat. The one she’d abandoned when she and Raymond flew from the hotel roof ahead of Erik’s men. At least that was small enough she could fight for it. The suitcase must have weighed seventy pounds. What did Flor have in the thing? At least he didn’t try to take it away from her.
