“So you’re saying that the shield was weak, and somebody was able to punch a hole in it.”
“The shield is never weak; we don’t let that happen. We fortify it with Blood of an Evil Man.”
“With what?” This came from Daniel, who looked a little wide-eyed, like he was wondering whether he’d have to open an investigation.
“Not actual blood. Well, not these days, not with modern spellcraft. Blood of an Evil Man is a type of spell, an intensifier that adds power to whatever magic you’re working with.”
“So you don’t really use blood?”
“Well, you can. Some old-school witches and sorcerers probably still do. But we’ve got better methods now to achieve the same effect. Cleaner. And blood can be hard to get.” Roxana laughed, showing her white teeth, and Daniel smiled back. “People are often reluctant to part with it.”
“Especially evil men, I’d imagine.”
Roxana laughed again. “True. And how many people do you know who walk around going, ‘Oooh, I’m evil’? Makes it hard to advertise for blood donors.”
Daniel looked right into her eyes as they laughed together. Pretty rotten of me to break up their party. Or not. “Could we get back to the shield, please?” They both turned to me with the faces of scolded children who didn’t feel one bit guilty. It was annoying. “So, Roxana,” I said, “what you’re telling me is that there was nothing special about the timing. The shield could have been breached any day of the year.”
“Not by a Hellion. Not that, ever. But we never expected a magical attack. So you’re right in a sense. After the thirtieth—huh, that’s today, isn’t it—the shield would have been much harder to damage.” She flipped a strand of hair back over her shoulder. “It’s back to full strength now, though. Daniel told you we repaired it, right?”
“You what?” A hot, sick feeling possessed me, like I was suffocating. “With the Destroyer running around Boston? Are you crazy? You’ve sealed it inside!”
Those stupid witches. They’d trapped Difethwr inside the very city it promised to destroy. Which meant it was only a matter of time until the Hellion razed Boston, killing hundreds or even thousands of people. It didn’t need a legion. It could do that all by itself.
What if I couldn’t stop it in time? Those witches had sentenced half of Boston to death.
The sick feeling was swept aside by an electric jolt. My fist clenched, and along my right forearm, the scar itched and burned. I made the mistake of looking at Daniel as the demon essence flared, and I wanted to pound his smiling face into his desk over and over and over, until not even his damn wife would recognize him.
Whoa. Not that. I closed my eyes and forced my clenched fingers to open. They fought me, and my arm spasmed. I pushed the image of Daniel out of my mind and focused instead on opening my hand. If I could do that, I’d be in control. Me, not the demon mark. Come on, Vicky, I thought, focus on the real enemy. Face up to what you’re really afraid of. Difethwr. Sealed inside the city. Your city.
The thought was terrifying. And rage felt way better than fear, so I let it flow. The mark pulsed as I allowed the rage to flame around the edges of my mind. The demon mark’s pulse was slow and steady, nothing like my crazy-fast racing heartbeat. Instead, some deep, ponderous rhythm of Hell was coming alive in my body. No! I turned my rage toward that, toward the Destroyer itself. The demon that had killed my father and marked me for life. It was in the city, and it was trying to use its essence to control me. I wouldn’t let it. I’d just have to kill the thing. That had been the plan all along, hadn’t it?
My fingers flew open.
I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. I opened my eyes. Roxana was gaping at me, looking nervous. “We had to repair the shield, Victory,” she said. “We’ve sensed a spike in Hellion activity; the Destroyer is assembling a legion. If we don’t keep them out, there will be hundreds of Hellions attacking Boston, not just one.”
It made sense. I didn’t like it, but it was the less terrible of two really bad choices. And it was true that if Difethwr couldn’t get out of Boston, it couldn’t escape me. Not that it had been running away from me so far.
“We need to find out who breached the shield in the first place,” I said, surprised that my voice sounded normal. “Who knew it was due for renewal?”
Roxana frowned. “That’s what bothers me. Only the Witches of the Shield knew. We’re all sworn to secrecy, and we take that vow seriously. The only reason I’m able to tell you and Daniel all this is because we had an emergency meeting and voted to cooperate with the authorities.”
“It doesn’t matter, you know,” I said, deciding to clue her in after all. “About the date, the timing. Those spirits are always around. Halloween is just the day humans decide to notice.”
Roxana’s face clouded, and then she smiled. “Of course,” she said. “So we can renew the shield whenever we want.” She was quick; I liked that.
“And you can keep the new date a secret, or even change the date each year.”
“Excellent.” She beamed at me. “You’re already helping us stay one step ahead of the demons.”
“Except for the one we’re dealing with now. So let me see if I understand what you’re saying. You think it was a witch who made the hole?”
Immediately, the clouds returned. Her violet eyes now holding inexpressible sadness, Roxana nodded. “It had to be. Who else would know the date? Who else would know the charms we used?”
“What if a witch told somebody else?”
“Like who?”
“Like a sorcerer. The Destroyer didn’t just show up. Somebody called it, then bound it. It has a master. No offense, but I’ve never met a witch powerful enough to do that.”
Roxana nodded thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. It might have been a witch and a sorcerer working together. Or maybe one of the witches let some information slip.”
“Hang on,” Daniel said, jumping in. We both looked at him. At least I didn’t want to smash his face anymore. “There’s a difference between a witch and a sorcerer? I thought they were just different words for the same thing.”
I shook my head. “A witch does magic by working with the energy of the earth. A sorcerer conjures demons and forces them to obey his or her will.”
“Witches,” added Roxana, “are forbidden to use their magic to cause harm, to themselves or others. Sorcerers don’t have any such scruples.”
“No kidding,” I said. “How can you ‘do no harm’ when all your magic is tied up with demons? Sorcerers may fool themselves into thinking they command demonic servants, but the truth is that no demon ever served a human without taking a bite out of that human’s soul.”
“Wow. Okay, thanks.” Daniel slouched in his chair as if trying to fade into the background again.
Roxana turned back to me. “I was afraid it was one of us. So at our last meeting, I put everyone under a truth spell, including myself, and asked each witch if she’d damaged the shield. Everyone said no. Now, it’s possible to create a counter-charm that lets you lie under a truth spell, if you prepare it in advance. But I’d called the meeting with only an hour’s notice, and I didn’t sense that kind of magic happening. I’ll try again, but this time I’ll ask if anyone gave an outsider any information about the shield. Even if it was by accident, even if they’ve forgotten, the truth spell will bring it out.”
“Kind of like hypnosis, huh? That’s a good idea,” Daniel said. “Let me know what you find out.”
Roxana nodded. “I’ll call another meeting today. In fact, I’d better get started. But before I go, Victory, I’ve got something for you.” She dug through her purse for a moment, then pulled out a clear stone attached to a leather cord. “This amulet will call the Witches of the Shield to your aid when you next encounter the Destroyer.”
“Thanks,” I started, “but I don’t—”
“Not to help with the fighting. You’re the expert there. But what we can do is open a tiny, momentary hole in the shield, if you ne
ed it, so you can push the Destroyer out.”
That sounded like a good idea. “How does it work?”
She held the crystal in her hand. It was a clear, unpolished stone in a lopsided teardrop shape, about two inches long. Golden wires caged it and connected it to the leather loop.
“You wear it around your neck. The amulet serves two purposes: it glows scarlet in the presence of a Hellion, and in that state it also becomes a communication device. It transmits what you’re seeing and hearing to a scrying mirror that my coven monitors constantly. If you need the shield opened, just call out and tell us, and we’ll crack it right away. You can force the Destroyer out before another Hellion has a chance to enter.”
“So I say, ‘Open the shield,’ and you’ll open it.” She nodded. “How long does that take?”
“About ten seconds. And the crack will remain open for another ten.”
“So timing is everything, huh?” I reached for the amulet.
As Roxana handed it to me, the stone brushed my right forearm, right across the demon mark. I felt a hot tingle, and the stone glowed a pale pink. Roxana’s eyes widened, fixed on the stone. She deliberately moved the amulet to find the source of the color, holding it over my scar.
My arm was burning now, and an image flashed into my mind: Roxana’s face, her violet eyes bulging, her teeth smeared with blood, as I squeezed and squeezed her scrawny neck until the bones cracked and her swollen purple tongue protruded from that red-lipsticked mouth—
Roxana jumped, jerking the amulet away. The violent image faded. “What was that?” she whispered.
“It turned pink,” Daniel said. “Why did it do that?” Roxana’s eyes were glassy with fear. She looked at me, uncertain, holding back the amulet.
“It’s all right,” I said, reaching for the amulet with my left hand. “The Destroyer’s in town. I’ve got some unfinished business with it. Personal business.”
Keeping my eyes on hers, I took the amulet and put it around my neck. The cord was long enough that I could look down and see the stone, which rested over my heart. It stayed crystal clear. Seeing that, Roxana nodded, but tentatively, like she wanted to understand but no longer quite trusted me. “We’ve felt a strengthening of the Hellion’s power,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. From her expression, she was trying to assess whose side I was on.
“It’s hard to fight something that’s inside you,” I said.
She tilted her head, then nodded, as if this time she really did understand. “But it can be done,” she said.
I nodded. “It can be done. People fight their own demons every day. Even me.”
DANIEL DIDN’T ASK AGAIN ABOUT THE AMULET. HE WATCHED Roxana leave to call her witches’ meeting, then turned back to me and grinned. He sure was smiling a lot this morning. “Wow,” he said, “that was fascinating. I knew listening to you talk to a witch would help.” He stood, taking his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulling it on. “You want to get out of here? There’s a coffee shop around the corner, and I skipped breakfast this morning. I’m starving. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
At my refusal, Daniel stopped, one arm in his jacket, looking crestfallen. “Why not?”
“I told you, I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Oh, right, you did. Sorry.” He put his other arm through the empty sleeve and shrugged the jacket into place. He smiled again. “So can I tempt you with a decaf instead?”
I was sick of this guy acting like he thought he was Prince Charming. I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “What’s your relationship to Seth Baldwin?”
“Seth Bal—? You mean the guy who’s running for governor? Why would I have any relationship to him?”
See that? I thought. Answering a question with a question. He was trying to avoid telling me the truth. And the only way to fight evasion is to keep straight on your own course.
“Somebody told him that the Destroyer murdered my father.” I watched his face closely, wishing I had one of Roxana’s truth spells. Something flitted across his expression—he blinked, the smile dropped away, and he ran a hand through his hair—but I didn’t know how to read him.
“You don’t think I did?” His voice sounded hurt. “Jeez, Vicky, I’d never—You couldn’t—” He inspected his fingernails. “What makes you think it was me?”
“Only a few people know: my family, my roommate, Kane—and you. I trust the others. You, I don’t even know.” I thought about the woman’s sleepy voice calling him to the phone. “I don’t know you at all.”
He sat down heavily in his chair and spoke with his head turned away. “I’ve never met Baldwin. Hell, I’m not even voting for the guy. And I’m sorry that you think I could betray you like that. I swear to you, I haven’t told anyone. I left it out of my investigation notes. You know, I’d really hoped . . .” He raised his eyes to meet mine. But he didn’t finish his sentence, just looked down at his hands again.
Well, Daniel Costello’s hopes were none of my business. Those were the concern of his live-in lover, whoever she was. As far as I was concerned, he and I had nothing left to say to each other.
Nothing personal, anyway. “If Roxana finds out who leaked the info about the shield, you’ll let me know, right?” I made my voice sound as professional as I knew how.
He nodded. “And you’ll tell me if you run into that Hellion again.”
“Sure.” But something told me that I wouldn’t be calling him again, for any reason whatsoever.
As I was closing the door behind me, I knew I was right in my resolve.
“Hey, Costello,” called a detective, “your wife’s on line two.”
22
WHEN I GOT HOME, THE APARTMENT WAS SILENT. I CHECKED for phone messages; nothing from Kane. At least he didn’t want to continue our fight—or end it, for that matter. Either way, it would have been kind of nice just to hear his voice.
As I peeled off my clothes and got ready for bed, I realized that if Kane hadn’t called by now, I wouldn’t be hearing from him for a while. Tomorrow night was the full moon. That meant Kane, like all werewolves, had to report to a state-sanctioned werewolf retreat area before sundown tonight. He’d head for the Princeton retreat straight from his office. He’d be gone for three days.
It would be so good to talk to him, to drop our arguments and snuggle in together. I wanted to tell him about Roxana and the witches. I wanted to tell him how scared I was that I might be losing control. I wanted to feel his strong arms around me, to breathe in his woodsy, masculine scent. I wanted to feel the way I felt when we were laughing together. Safe. Happy. And if not exactly loved, then something not too far off.
Kane had wanted me to go on this retreat with him, but I’d said no. Now I was wishing he’d asked one more time before he left. Not that I’d have gone, of course; I had too much to deal with here in town—maybe even more than I could handle. Still, it would have been nice to be asked, I thought, as I pulled up the covers and turned out the light.
SLEEP BROUGHT NO COMFORT. I WANTED TO SINK INTO oblivion; instead, I felt as though I lay in an echoing chamber full of whispering ghosts. And all the whispers repeated a single name: Difethwr.
Only one person knew what it was like to stand alone against a Hellion. I needed to talk to Aunt Mab.
I used the dream phone. Mab’s colors, blue and silver, rose up like wisps of fog, growing and filling my vision. I walked through the swirling mist of colors until they faded, then cleared away, and I found myself in Aunt Mab’s library. The room looked exactly the way I remembered it: the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the French windows out into the garden, the chintz-covered wing chairs. A fire burned in the fireplace, its flickering light dancing around the room. But the cozy impression was ruined when I looked at the spot where my father had died. The shape of his fallen body glowed red, like the amulet Roxana had given me, as if Difethwr’s fire inside him had never stopped burning. Again, I felt the mark of the Destroyer burn in
my arm.
Staring at the place where my father had fallen, feeling an echo of that night’s pain, I began to cry. The tears hit me like a tidal wave. I dropped to my knees and sobbed into my hands. That’s when I became aware of Aunt Mab, sitting in her chair in front of me.
“Don’t cry, child. He’s ten years gone.”
Her words only made me cry harder, rocking back and forth. God, it hurt so much. So much. Aunt Mab sat silently, waiting. It felt like I’d never stop crying. My father. Dad. Daddy. Dying for me, because of my stupid pride. And I couldn’t reach him now, not even in my dreams. Could he be gone—really gone—as the Hellion boasted? I wanted to keep crying and crying, as though my pain could somehow bring him to me. But it didn’t. And, gradually, the tears subsided.
Hiccupping, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Mab handed me a handkerchief, and I blew my nose, noisily. When I could speak, I looked at her and said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
She looked at me, lips pursed, waiting for me to continue. But I’d just told her why I’d called her, and I didn’t know what else to say.
Finally she spoke in her familiar, stern tone. “If you’re waiting for me to say, ‘There, there, don’t worry, everything will be all right,’ you’ll be sadly disappointed.”
I bit my tongue to hold back the tears that threatened to start again. That was exactly what I didwant her to say.
“The Destroyer is a formidable foe, child. It has been the enemy of our family for many, many generations. If you challenge the Hellion and fail, you won’t be the first.”
“It’s gathering a legion, Mab. To keep the legion out, the witches of the city have repaired the shield. That means it’s sealed inside Boston. It says it’s going to destroy the whole city, and I can’t stop it. It says it will destroy me, too.” As it destroyed my father.
She tsked. “If you refuse to believe you can defeat it, you will certainly fail.”
“So I’m supposed to believe in myself? Just like that? What, and whistle a happy tune while I’m at it? Mab, this isn’t somebody’s Eidolon or Harpy. It’s a Hellion.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “And it’s inside me.” The horror fully gripped me then, and I clawed at my arm, raking it with my nails. The whisper rose to a wail. “It’s inside me! Get it out, Mab, get it out!”
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