by Patti Larsen
“Iepa mentioned they were trying to perfect creation.” Shudder. “A few kept the histories.” I thought of the chambers under the mansion. “Right?”
Trill actually smiled. “Exactly. Nona’s family was one of those.”
As mine was supposed to be? Maybe. I nodded again for her to go on while my mind churned.
“With most of the maji spread throughout the population and with no idea who they were or what they were capable of, the sorcerers finally rose up and began their plot to kill off or control each of the bloodlines. They were the last creation of the maji before they left our plane, and the most daring of their inventions. Without the full maji here to control them, the destructive nature of sorcerous power gave them an edge over all of the other races. They used their influence and the lust for control—a byproduct of their magic—to seek out other races here on this plane and find ways to either destroy them or use them for their own gain. Both openly,” I thought of the Inquisition, “and covertly, they have been hunting us and destroying our lineage.”
“So why haven’t those who know better done anything about it?” I began to pace, aware it was my tick in face of anxiety, but needing the physical outlet.
When Trill didn’t answer, I stopped, met her eyes. Only to see hers were downcast and Owen just looked sad.
“We’re supposed to,” Trill said.
“But?” I looked back and forth between them.
“It’s my task,” Trill finally said, body shaking as she gripped her elbows in both hands, as if trying to hold herself together. “My destiny. It’s why I’m the light.”
Whoa. “You’re some kind of general?” I guess someone had to be. But Trill?
“I’m the strongest maji born in centuries,” she said. “Carefully created, bred to be as close to full power as possible. It’s my line that is the purest and has been kept that way, nurtured, until now.”
And I thought my life had been predetermined. “Which is the real reason the sorcerers want you.”
She nodded, clearly miserable, shoulders slumping forward. “And I handed myself over to them.”
“We need to raise an army,” Owen said, breaking the sadness hovering around his sister. Her lips wavered as she tried a smile at him, though I knew now there was no “we” about these two. Not after what I’d seen of his power and reaction to the maji chamber. Still, she needed all the support she could get right now. “An army of maji.”
“You don’t have to fight alone.” I had to talk to Mom again. “Other races will help. Maybe not all of them, but I know my coven won’t stand by and allow the Brotherhood to commit genocide now that we know it’s happening. Why didn’t the maji come to us in the first place?” Frustration warred with sorrow. “We could have stood together long ago.”
The old argument of fearful witches.
None of our business.
Trill shrugged, probably thinking what I was, but her reply fed my cynicism. “Passing the buck. Turning a blind eye. Who really knows?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” Owen said. “As long as we can change things before it’s too late.”
“You’re sure others will help?” Trill actually sounded hopeful. Did she really think they were alone in wanting to protect our home? I guess it must have felt that way her whole life. No wonder she didn’t trust me, thinking only the maji cared, and just a handful of them at that. Time to reeducate her on the goals and dreams of the rest of us.
Then again, after everything I’d been through, the rejections I’d faced time and time again when I needed help, I may have been pushing my optimism just a teensy little bit.
Not this time.
“I think I can speak for a number of races,” I said without a trace of sarcasm as my multiple personalities supported me, “in saying there are always those who refuse to accept tyranny. When we get out of here, I’ll be speaking to all of them personally.” Well, hopefully. Both on the getting out of here and the communication. Might be hard to reach a few of them—the Sidhe for example—but I was willing to try. “Once they know this plane isn’t the only one at risk,” I said, “I know they’ll act.”
I turned to face Owen. “I have questions for you too,” I said. “About what happened in the maji chamber. Your power attacked us. I take it that wasn’t your idea?”
He hugged his knees, lips turned down as he met my eyes with his brilliant blue gaze. “No,” he said. “I don’t remember doing anything. Liam and Galleytrot were ahead of me. I felt weird when I was walking down the stairs, kind of tingly. But it wasn’t until I crossed over into the room everything went crazy. I was pulling power into me and couldn’t stop it.” A tear formed in one eye, trickling down his cheek before he dashed it away with his hand. “I just want to help,” he whispered. “But I can’t if I’m a sorcerer. If I’m meant to betray Trill.”
“Don’t say that.” She sat next to him, away from Charlotte.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “We’ve known our whole lives. And now that we’ve seen proof of what I’m capable, I know I have to get away from you.”
Trill tried to hug him, but Owen pulled away, backed off, standing next to me. “I can’t be with you anymore, Trill. You may have turned us over for what you thought was the right reason, but I’ll betray you without even having a choice and ruin everything.”
“I disagree,” I said. They both looked at me, startled, and hopeful. “Personally, if you’re going to betray her, I’d rather keep you close by so we can watch you.”
His face fell, shoulders rolling forward as he collapsed a little. “A prisoner.”
Trill opened her mouth to protest, but I laughed first. “Silly,” I said. “An ally. Think about it.” They both watched me carefully as I went on, the idea forming as I spoke. “I’d rather have a sorcerer on our side who could tell us what to expect and help us figure out ways to counter the Brotherhood, even if that sorcerer is part of some prophesy. Because, I’ll tell you, things are rarely exactly as you think they are.” Boy, had my life proven that one over and over again. “And trying to guess what will happen just distracts from the more important things. Like getting the hell out of here.”
Trill rose and came to hug Owen who allowed it this time. When she met my gaze, hers was level and calm.
“You’re right,” she said. “So what’s the plan?”
Because I was the queen of plans.
Yeah, right.
***
Chapter Thirty
Pacing, it turned out, might be great for letting out extra energy, but it did nothing to quiet my mind. It did do wonders for distracting me from what was important, though. Like the fact we were about to have visitors. If it wasn’t for Charlotte’s sudden rise in anxiety, I would have been caught completely flat footed. As it was, I barely had time to spin and lunge for the door before it opened and closed again, a large tray of food slid inside in record time before the way out was resealed against us.
Though my stomach ached with hunger, I refused to eat, not trusting what the sorcerers might have done to the food. That didn’t stop Owen and Trill from helping themselves. To avoid temptation, I crossed to Charlotte and sat next to her, one hand on her shoulder. She seemed to calm under my touch as I fingered the crystal in my pocket.
And shook myself. “Owen,” I held up the rock, glowing blue in the light, “can you free Charlotte with this?”
He stood, half a sandwich in one hand, mouth working around the other, frowning as he chewed. A long swallow later and he shrugged, reaching for the crystal. “I can try,” he said as he knelt next to the weregirl, a sheepish smile on his face. “I should have thought of it before.”
Whether she would hold a grudge or not remained to be seen. And anyway, if she’d be pissed at someone, it would be me.
His face scrunched up as he focused, the crystal pulsing in his hand, but after a moment he shook his head and handed it back. “I can feel the rock in tune with me,” he said, “but something is keeping me from using it. T
here’s a block on it, you know? Like whoever made it didn’t want it used until they decided it was the right time.”
Demetrius. I was going to kill him when I caught up with him. And I’d enjoy every second of his death.
From the glare in Charlotte’s wolf eyes, I’d be fighting her for the honor.
“So can you just use your sorcery and get rid of it?” I waited and hoped, but knew before I asked he’d already tried.
“Whoever created this,” he said, “I’m cut off from it. The metal is feeding on itself, in some kind of power loop. The crystal would give me enough boost to cut through, but I’m not strong enough without it and it’s blocked.” He gently patted Charlotte’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
I sagged to the floor, back against the bed, staring into space as I pondered. “Tell me more about creation magic,” I said as Trill chased a mouthful with a gulp of water.
“You’re lack of ability is what’s wrong with modern magic,” she said. “There’s no balance. Magic can’t be in proper harmony when one branch of it is avoided, ignored, reviled.”
I found myself nodding slowly. “Makes sense.” Now if only she could tell me how to convince my mother, the Council and every other witch on the planet. Especially when I knew the moment I cleared the shields and had access to my magic again, the old revulsion would come rushing back.
How had Ameline and Batsheva managed to break the geas? I’d just have to track them down and ask them.
They could join Demetrius in line once I was done asking questions.
“How am I going to convince every witch blood magic isn’t worthy of a death sentence, but is a part of their power they need to bring balance to the world?” I shook my head, the weight of the task pushing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. “And that sorcerers are the reason for our problems, magic users witches can’t even feel?”
“There’s more,” Trill said, though I could tell she was trying to stay calm, a certain level of gloom hovered around her. “The sorcerers have their own version of creation magic. But theirs is aimed at total destruction.”
Naturally. Things were just getting better and better, weren’t they?
“Sorcery taps into the innate power inside objects,” Owen said over his own bottle of water. “Where witches and others draw their magic from the elements, sorcerers pull power from inside objects, destroying them as that power is used up. Each sorcerer has different gifts, depending on what items they can access. Like stone, wood, metals, etc. Only a rare few can use all of them.”
“Are you one?” His nod made me sigh. Of course. “And Belaisle?”
Owen shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I will assume, since he’s the leader here, that’s the case. Usually those with the most power rule.”
He was right about that. “And this sucking of energy?” I thought about the defense I’d finally come up with, dropping our shields so the sorcerers would have nothing to feed their magic. “That’s part of it?”
Owen set his bottle down, looking a little ill. “Nice way of putting it,” he said. “But yes. We siphon power from objects, but also from others. The power you have to offer is much greater than some inanimate object.”
“Vampires,” I said.
“More like thieves,” he said. And didn’t look happy about admitting it.
Okay then.
“If witches had access to all aspects of their power,” Trill said, “their creation magic could bring them in balance and help deflect that aspect of sorcery. But when you are out of balance, there are holes in your magic, places where a sorcerer can worm his way in, open cracks power can be leeched from.”
Shudder.
“Nona’s been warning us our whole lives,” Owen said. “About the fight that’s coming. But even she couldn’t tell us what we were supposed to do, outside the fact Trill is meant to lead the army of maji.”
“And the Brotherhood?” I eyed the last bottle of water with some longing though I refused to give in to my thirst. “From what Sassy said, I take it they aren’t a new organization?”
“This incarnation of them might be,” Owen said. “But they’ve been around for a long time.”
“Are there good sorcerers?” I wasn’t sure why the thought struck me, but there had to be, right? Not everyone could agree with Belaisle and his aim to take over everything.
Owen crossed his legs, peeling the label from his bottle as he thought about it. “I guess there must be,” he said at last. “But we’ve never met any.” He looked up, held out one hand. “Can I see the crystal again? I might be able to shatter the hold on it if I try hard enough.”
I held back. “This is the only one we have,” I said. “What if you break it?”
He laughed, a bright and delighted sound, more like the Owen I’d first met, sweet and almost carefree despite his circumstances. “I promise,” he said. “I won’t.”
Good enough for me.
“Besides,” I said as I tossed it to him, “that’s what trust is all about. Sharing information.” I stared hard at Trill whose ears turned red. Was I laying it on thick? Hell yeah. Served her right. “Trusting each other is the only way we’re going to get out of here.”
Point taken. She even nodded.
If only her acknowledgment made me feel better.
Man, I was slow on the uptake. Just as Owen opened his mouth to comment, Charlotte started her writhing dance as the door unsealed and swung inward. I leaped to my feet, not ready, as the big sorcerer with the crew cut and the CIA look gestured toward me.
“Mr. Belaisle wants to see you,” he said.
I cast a flickering glance at Owen, catching him easing the stone into his pocket. Probably for the best he kept it while I spoke to the big boss. No way did I want Belaisle to know I had it. That was, if Demetrius hadn’t already told him.
I could only assume that wasn’t the case. Belaisle would have taken it from me long ago if he knew I had anything of power in my possession. Feeling slightly in control with that single upper hand, locked up as it was in Owen’s pocket, I followed Big and Grumpy out of the room to the sound of Charlotte howling behind her gag, the echoing pain of it only cutting off when the door sealed shut behind me.
***
Chapter Thirty One
This trip through the house was a little different. No sneaking, for one thing. Though the view wasn’t much better, in my opinion. Seen one multi-million dollar mansion, seen ‘em all.
And, not a shocker, I ended up back in the central office with the big skylight and the cabinet full of crystals. My heart did an “oh noes” when I entered and found Belaisle standing in front of it, hands clasped behind his back, staring through the glass at the collection.
He knew.
We were screwed.
But when he turned to face me, his silken, well-oiled smile on his lips, he simply gestured for the goon to leave us as he crossed to his desk, an ornate and oppressive piece of posturing furniture, perching himself on the edge of it with flair.
Sigh.
“Welcome to my home, Miss Hayle,” he said. “How lovely for you to visit. I hope you’re enjoying your stay?”
Arrogant ass. “Not so much,” I said, my best casual chic mustered at the last moment despite the fact I wanted to jerk the ugly clump of hair from his chin and feed it to him.
Syd. Temper.
His smile didn’t waver. “You can imagine my surprise to find you here. How resourceful. Tell me, did you really trust that horrid old troll to lead you to me?” He snorted softly into one hand, a flashing gold and emerald ring the size of a dinner plate catching the light as he did. Belaisle was nothing if not a show off. “I’m honestly shocked to discover Demetrius Strong is even still alive. Especially after what you did to him.” He clapped slowly, three times. “Bravo on destroying what remained of his very damaged mind.”
“I’m happy to oblige,” I said. “Care for a sample?”
He waggled one finger at me, tsking. “Now, Syd
lynn. Be nice. I’ve been nothing but hospitable since I discovered you in my house, unwelcome. What would you have done to me in the same position?”
I hated to admit it, but he was right.
“You’d be dead now,” I said with a smile. “So I guess that proves I’m smarter than you.”
Way to prod the dude with all the power. But from the way he flinched slightly, I made my point.
Wasn’t done, either.
“Did you have fun?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Playing with the family?”
His sudden snarl erased the film of genteel he’d adopted. Belaisle stood abruptly and crossed to me, getting in my personal space.
“Your weakling coven and pathetic blood suckers are no match for my Brotherhood.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to convince me,” I said, flicking an imaginary piece of dust from his lapel. “Or yourself, maybe?”
This was too much fun. Too much.
Really, I shouldn’t have been giggling inside. Serious business and all that.
Belaisle swung away from me, body tense. “We’ll see who comes out on top when we have the time to wipe you out.”
“Oh, right,” I drawled, letting humor into my voice, knowing I was shoving him as hard as I could, but unable to stop myself. “You’re too busy taking over the world first. Well, just so you know, Belaisle? Now that we’re aware—thanks for that, by the way—we won’t be standing around waiting for you to get your act together before we kick your sorry asses from the pedestal of arrogance you’ve built yourselves.”
Boo-ya.
He didn’t answer. Hmmm. I was used to my brand of bad guys boasting their ways into corners they couldn’t dig themselves out of. Belaisle simply returned to sit on his desk, though his smirk was long gone.
“Perhaps you and your coven are willing to step into something that you can’t handle,” he said, “but what about the rest of the witches? Are you so sure they will side with you against us, when it’s only your word, and that of a pair of silly children, against us?” He stood, began to pace. I wasn’t the only one, it seemed, though, as he did, his mood lifted. “You seem to think we’ve become so focused on our goal we’ve forgotten how important it is to ensure our success.”
