“The Gods allowed my sisters to reincarnate, lifetime after lifetime, Sindar. To remember, to bear the same names, to find each other again. Do you really think— Unh!” The chains pulled her arms all the way overhead, and then farther, so she was lifted off her feet. It hurt. She gripped the chains in her hands to take her weight off her shoulders, but it wasn’t easy. “Do you really think...” She grunted, forcing the words past the pain of her shoulders being so painfully wrenched and the burn of her hands on the chains. “Do you really think that the Gods gave us all of that only to see us fail now?”
“You’re witches. The Gods gave you nothing. Your demon overlords, perhaps. But not Marduk.”
“Not Marduk,” she agreed, holding her head up when she wanted to let it fall forward in pain. “Ishtar.”
The flash of fear in the ancient high priest’s eyes was enough to tell her that she was on the right track. “Even Marduk himself doesn’t dare defy the wishes of the Queen of Heaven. Ishtar will exact a huge price from you, Sindar.”
He held up a hand, and the yanking of the chains ceased. Then the men pushed a concrete slab, a dais of some kind, forward. It scraped loudly against the concrete floor, but soon it was beneath her, supporting her feet, taking the burden from her hands and shoulders. She pressed her feet down and sighed in relief.
“Fetch the vessel,” Sindar barked.
Vessel? By the Gods, what was he up to?
A man scurried off, then returned with a large pottery urn, wide at the top, narrower at the bottom, and inlaid with semiprecious stones in the image of a golden rearing lion and lapis bull, just as they’d appeared on the city gates of Babylon.
She couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the piece from her own former time. And yet it didn’t bode well. It was very much like one that had been routinely used to hold the organs of victims who’d been disemboweled for scrying purposes, one of the high priest’s specialties. The heart and liver, sometimes other organs, would be stored inside it for use in future spells and rituals, while the intestines would be examined for signs and omens of the future.
“Is that for my heart, then?” she asked him. Her shoulders still hurt, but at least the pressure was off them now. She tried to relax her still-raised arms, to let the manacles at her wrists support their weight.
Sindar smiled. “The blood of a witch has powerful magical properties, my dear. Especially if we drain it from you during Beltane. Timing is everything, you know.” He nodded once more to his men, and they approached her feet. Lilia tried to avoid the bastards, kicking at them, gripping the chains in her hands and pulling her legs up out of reach, but it was no use. She couldn’t move far enough or fast enough. There were too many of them. And now they shackled her ankles, then began pulling her chains again.
This time her legs were pulled right out from beneath her, backward, and she fell forward, her shoulders jerking painfully when she reached the chains’ limit. They pulled her legs higher, until she was suspended by her wrists and ankles, facedown over the urn. Her spine was curved painfully from the unnatural position, and she was crying softly now.
“It’s not B-Beltane yet,” she said.
“Close enough for this. Besides, I can use a little of that extra power now.” He nodded at one of his men. “Cut her.”
“No. No!”
But a man jumped up onto the dais, ignoring her cries, and his blade flashed, slicing her inner arm near the elbow. Pain burned when the blade slashed her skin, and warm blood ran down toward her shoulder and began dripping to the concrete below.
Sindar moved the urn to catch the drops as they fell, and soon the drops became a trickle. It sickened her to see her blood flowing into the ancient jar, and she let her head fall forward and closed her eyes. She knew she should call Demetrius, but if he came too soon they would kill Ellie.
And if he came too late? Then he would pay the ultimate price along with her.
14
Demetrius felt her kiss him and vaguely, fighting sleep, heard the remaining words she sang and realized she was casting a spell. She’d cast a spell to make him sleep, and she was casting another one right now.
I cast and bound you tight to me; tonight, my love, I set you free. The spell I cast I now undo; we once were one, but now we’re two.
He fought the enchantment. He knew she was going to try to go after Ellie all by herself, whether it cost her life, and his, or not, because she felt the baby was more important. And he agreed with her, but dammit, he hadn’t refused to accept the missing part of his soul for nothing. He’d done it to keep his powers intact so he could use them to save Ellie and, he hoped, somehow save Lilia, too. If he died in the effort, so be it. If death was what Lilia had told him it was, then he had little to fear.
Only being without her. That he feared more than anything.
Fight it. Fight the spell.
She’d enchanted him, sung to him, commanded him to sleep while she slipped away. And it had almost worked.
Remember what she told you, though, he reasoned inside his sleep-addled mind. She said a spell can’t work on a man unless he wants it to on some level. And there is no part of me that wants her to face this alone. Not even a single cell. I don’t want to be unbound from her. Hell, I want to be bound to her for the rest of our lives!
He managed to pry his eyes open, forced himself from the bed, landing on hands and knees on the floor. Groping almost blindly, he found his way into the bathroom, pulled himself into the shower stall, then lifted a hand in search of the knob and twisted without hesitation. Icy water poured over him, and he sucked in a breath and felt his heart pound faster. Miserably unpleasant. But it worked.
The cold shocked the fog from his brain and brought him fully awake. He got himself upright and strode out of the stall, toweling off on the way back into the bedroom for jeans, shoes. He belted his dagger around his waist, snatched up the chalice and grabbed a shirt and his satchel on the way out the door. And then he went to the Jeep, surprised that Lilia hadn’t taken it.
She was on foot.
That meant she was close.
He closed his hand around the amulet and closed his eyes, about to ask it to show him where she was...but he didn’t have to. His feet were moving all on their own. He was being pulled. It felt as if he were at one end of a rubber band, stretched between them. Just like before.
He’d done it! He’d kept her spell from working. The binding spell she’d cast that first day was still intact. He let go of all resistance, let his body be tugged and pulled in the right direction, even though he stumbled once or twice.
He thanked the Gods for that spell. He was very glad that she’d been such a stubborn and persistent little witch.
She’d told him that the binding spell would work until one of them died. And that eventuality might be nearer at hand than he thought.
No, he couldn’t afford to think that way. He would find her in time. After all she’d done for him, he owed her that much.
Besides, he thought, he couldn’t live, didn’t want to live, without her.
* * *
Tomas worked steadily over the journal that Lilia and Demetrius said they’d found in Father Dom’s room. He’d taken it back to the house with him when Magdalena had shocked them all by calling it a night.
There had been something off about that, he thought. Indy had clearly thought so, too, and that made him doubly sure.
As he worked, he became more and more certain with every line he translated that the man who’d written these words had not been Father Dom at all. He’d claimed to have many ancient texts pertaining to Demetrius and the three witches, and this journal was an old copy of one of them. But there were newer entries, too, written in fresh ink, added to the rest.
Dom had known some ancient Babylonian dialects. But this...this had been written by an expert, using words and glyphs whose meaning he had to guess at based on their context, because some of them had yet to be translated by modern-day historical linguists
. It was written in a conversational style that only a native speaker could have pulled off.
He had a half dozen reference books open around him, and sometimes he was barely aware of what he was transcribing until he finished a line and went back to reread it, so painstaking was each and every word.
But then he went cold as he realized what he’d read so far, and he closed the journal, took his notebook and headed into the bedroom.
His beautiful Indy was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, muttering incantations. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep,” he said. “Get dressed, hon. We have to go.”
“Where?”
“First to your sister’s. And then we need to find a bomb shelter built in an abandoned railroad tunnel in or near Milbury. And we need to find it fast.”
She flung back the covers, and he saw that she was still fully dressed. The only thing she’d taken off were her shoes. “It’s about freakin’ time.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Magdalena leaned over the map on the dining room table while Ryan searched the internet on a laptop close beside her. Tomas paced as he skimmed his translation and relayed every pertinent detail. “In the final pages Sindar claims—using the word bomb in English, as there is no Babylonian equivalent—that he’s found the perfect place,” he said, running his finger down the page, then read aloud. “‘An abandoned bomb shelter, so close to the witches and yet completely invisible to them. My spells and wards will shield it from discovery. And it’s belowground, so no one will hear the—’”
He stopped there and gave his head a shake, but Magdalena saw the look in his eyes and yanked the notebook from him. “‘So no one will hear the demon whore’s screams,’” she read, then pressed a hand to her chest and closed her eyes.
“This guy is sick.” Tomas took the journal back, before she could read any more. There were things in it she would be better off not knowing.
“We knew that already,” Magdalena said. “We knew how much Sindar enjoyed torturing us, even back at the beginning.”
“Where the hell are Demetrius and Lilia?” Ryan asked, looking up from the computer.
“Indy went to get them,” Lena replied. “Have you found anything on the location?”
“Seven bomb shelters within a fifty-mile radius. I need more to go on.”
Ryan kept searching, but Tomas leaned over him. “That’s gonna have to be good enough. Start marking the locations on the map. We’ll visit every last one if we have to.”
“I’ll scry them instead,” Magdalena said. “I need to go get my pendulum.” She raced away, through the living room and up the stairs. She was back so quickly that Tomas and Ryan still had their heads together, marking each of the bomb shelters on the map.
“That’s it,” Ryan said, as they marked the final spot. “That’s everything that came up in my search.”
“Okay, give me some room.” Lena let her pendulum dangle over the map. Then she shook her head. “No. They’re too close together. I need to cut them up. The way we’re going through maps around here is going to make the local shopkeepers wonder what the hell we do with them.” She went for the scissors, then carefully cut out each section of the map that contained a bomb shelter. When she finished she spread the sections on the table and dangled her pendulum over the first of them and watched to see if it would swing.
“Sindar’s journal said he could block you from locating him that way,” Tomas said, watching her and watching the doorway, as well, waiting for Indy to return, getting worried. She should have been back with Lilia and Demetrius by now.
“He can,” Lena explained. “But the pendulum gives negative as well as positive readings. It will tell me where he’s not. What’s left will be where he is.”
Ryan’s eyes filled as he watched his wife work. “Damn, you’re smart.”
Tomas put a hand on his shoulder and inclined his head. Frowning, Ryan backed away from the table, where Lena was too busy to notice. When they were out of earshot, Tomas looked Ryan in the eye. “If Demetrius doesn’t accept the final piece of his soul in time, he’s not the only one who will dies.”
“I know,” Ryan said softly. “Lilia will die, too. She told us that already.”
Tomas held his gaze, searching for words. “Not only Lilia,” he said at last. And then he swallowed. “All of them. All of them, Ryan. We’ll lose Indy and Lena. And...and I’m not sure, but...maybe Ellie, too.”
He saw the man pale, saw his eyes widen. But just as quickly Ryan set his jaw and lifted his chin. “That’s not gonna happen. We’re not going to let it happen.”
“Damn straight we’re not. I just...I thought you should know.”
Ryan sighed. “Should we tell them?”
“I don’t know. Indy will probably kill me if she ever finds out I knew and didn’t say anything.”
Before they could decide, the front door burst open and Indy came rushing in, breathless, her eyes wild. “They’re gone. Demetrius and Lilia are gone!”
Magdalena called from the kitchen, “I know where. I found it!”
All of them ran to join her at the table.
“This one,” Lena said. “It’s the only site that didn’t give a negative response. In fact, no response at all. Nothing. The energy’s being blocked there, I’m sure of it.”
“That’s close,” Indy said, leaning in. “Maybe two miles from here. Probably why Demetrius and Lilia didn’t take their car.” She smiled grimly. “I’ve owed Father Dom a kick in the crotch for a while now,” she said. “I’m almost glad I’ll have a chance to deliver it.”
“It’s not Father Dom.” Tomas smoothed his palm over her clenched fist. “It’s Sindar. You need to remember that.”
“Fine. I’ve owed him even longer.”
“It’s two-for-one day on priests,” Lena said. “Kick one, kick another free.” She straightened. “Everyone ready?”
“More than ready,” Ryan said.
Tomas’s eyes were solemn and lingered on Ryan’s a second too long, making Indy look at him with suspicion. He had to tell her. When he could get her alone. If he could get her alone. “Just remember,” he said to take his mind off that particular problem, “we have two objectives. Get Ellie and Bahru out of harm’s way, and make sure Demetrius has the chance to accept the rest of his soul before Beltane. It’s vital we accomplish that.”
Lena rolled her eyes. “Like we’ll forget the thing that’s going to keep our sister from dying. Let’s go already.”
Tomas looked at his watch. “All right. Time to go.”
“I wish we had weapons,” Magdalena said.
“I have a shotgun in the car,” Tomas said. “It’s loaded.”
“And I can kick ass without one,” Indy put in. “Let’s do this.”
They started for the door, but before they reached it there was a soft knock. Frowning, Indy, who was closest, opened the door.
An old man stood on the other side. He had a face like the bark of a hard maple tree, all lines and crevices, pale blue eyes and a face in need of a razor.
“Hello,” he said. “I’ve come a long way. You must be Indira,” he went on, after a long look into her eyes. “So that must be Magdalena.”
“Yes, but—”
The newcomer looked at the men then, nodding as his eyes roamed their faces thoroughly. What he was looking for, Tomas couldn’t have said.
“Look, friend,” he said to the visitor, “I don’t know who you are, but we’re in the middle of an emergency here, so—”
“I know that, son. I know that. It’s why I’m here. To help.”
Indy looked back at Tomas, who shrugged.
“I’m sorry, bad manners,” the man said. “I haven’t even introduced myself.” He held out a hand. “I’m Gus.”
Ryan moved forward, “Demetrius’s friend Gus? Aren’t you supposed to be in an Arizona hospital right now?”
Gus waved a hand. “I knew the D-man was going to need me, knew I had to be here. So I boo
ked out of that hospital, caught the first flight and here I am.”
Tomas looked the man over, worry in his eyes. “That’s decent of you, Gus, but surely you realize you’re in no shape to be—”
“I realize. And don’t call me Shirley.” A grin split his face. “So are we gonna stand here wasting time or get going to whatever emergency you were on your way to?”
“Gus, your life could be in danger if you go with us,” Indy told him, one hand tightening on his forearm as if to drive the point home.
The old man’s smile died as he covered her hand with his own. His face took on a hard, firm expression. His head lifted higher; his spine straightened. He seemed almost to grow taller before their eyes, and he said, “I’m going with you. You can explain the rest on the way.” Then he turned and started across the porch, down the steps, walking in long powerful strides at first, then wincing in pain and limping the rest of the way as whatever had just briefly empowered him seemed to evaporate. He looked at the vehicles in the driveway: Ryan’s big black pickup truck with the extended cab and the ancient Volvo that was Tomas’s pride and joy. “Which one are we taking?”
“Both,” Ryan replied when no one else answered. “Come on, you can ride with Lena and me in the truck.”
Indy shot Lena a look. “Has your husband lost his mind?”
“Hey, if he feels Gus has to be here, who are we to question him?” Magdalena replied. “Besides there’s something almost...familiar about him.”
“Maybe there is a reason why he’s here,” Tomas said. “We don’t have to debate it now. Let’s go. We have lives to save. And we’re very short on time.”
* * *
By the time Demetrius was pulled by those unseen bonds onto a set of railroad tracks and into an abandoned tunnel through the very side of a mountain, his entire body was on fire. The energy zipping through every nerve itched and tingled, making him anxious and hyperalert. He felt the vibrations of sound coming from below the tunnel and even thought he smelled his Lilia’s sweet scent lingering near a rusted metal door.
Blood of the Sorceress Page 24
