by Nancy Holder
“Can you tell where they are?” she asked.
Pablo closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and nodded. “They’re closer. Maybe half a kilometer away.”
She tried to ignore the chill that danced up her spine, but she couldn’t quite do it. Pablo stepped into the trees and began walking. She squinted for a moment along the direction he was traveling, but couldn’t see anything. Heart in her throat, she followed.
Pablo was like a bloodhound, stopping every minute or so as if to pick up the scent. Every line of his body was taut, alert, and she couldn’t help but admire him. He was more in touch with his instincts than anyone she had ever seen. Suddenly he stopped, head up, and held his hand up for her to listen.
She couldn’t hear anything. She closed her eyes, trying to feel something. There was nothing. She opened her eyes. “Where?” she finally whispered.
Pablo shook his head. “Here.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Where?”
“Right here,” a voice said, nearly in her ear.
She screamed and jumped toward Pablo, twisting in midair.
A massive creature with dull black skin and flashing eyes stood before her. It was over six feet tall, with a hump on its back, and bulging muscles. A loincloth was wrapped around its midsection.
It opened its mouth and spoke again. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Amanda blinked. “Daddy?”
The creature nodded, and she took a closer look. It was indeed her father. He had something slung over his back and he was coated in soot and mud from head to toe. Relief flooded through her.
“Daddy!” she cried, flinging herself against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her tight. For a moment she was five again. Her daddy was there and he would make everything all right, he would protect her from the world.
“Princess,” he said at last, bringing her back to the present. “We need to keep moving.”
She pulled away slowly and only then realized that what he had slung over his back was Barbara Davis-Chin. Startled, she looked back to her dad. “Is she—”
“She’s alive.”
“Come with us—we have a place,” Pablo said. He headed off back toward the motel.
They fell into step behind him. Amanda walked beside her father, touching his arm from time to time to assure herself that he was real. Within ten minutes they made it back to the motel.
Inside, Tommy was awake and he broke into a huge grin when he saw them.
Richard slowly lowered his human burden onto a bed and then straightened. He stared Tommy in the eyes, and then reached out to embrace him. “It’s good to see you, son.”
As they embraced, Amanda began to cry. She moved forward, and they welcomed her into their circle until the three of them were hugging and crying. Tears flowed along with warmth; the three of them were bonding, becoming a new sort of family.
This is a gift from you, Goddess, Amanda acknowledged. Thank you.
Richard finally pulled away, and Amanda and Tommy sank down onto the bed beside Barbara’s inert form.
Pablo was already inspecting Barbara. The three looked on while he completed his exam. “She’s good. In her soul.”
Richard nodded. “A couple of times she came to, and then passed out again about three hours ago. She seems more at ease.”
“She needs rest. You, too,” Pablo said pointedly.
“I need a shower first, if no one minds,” Richard said, already heading for the bathroom.
Amanda sat quietly for the next twenty minutes. Twice she heard the water in the shower turn off only to be turned back on again. At last it turned off and stayed off. After another minute, her father reappeared with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Scars shone on his chest. Some were small, barely visible. Others were larger, some the size of a quarter. One in particular caught her eye. It was a long, jagged scar that stretched from the area above his heart to the middle of his stomach. With a start she realized that she had never seen him with his shirt off. Even when they used to go on vacation when she was little, he had always had a tank top on when he’d gone swimming.
He smiled grimly as though sensing her thoughts. He sat down on the other bed and threw another towel over his shoulder, partly covering his chest. “They’re from the war, honey. They’re a part of me that I tried for too long to leave behind.” He glanced down for a moment and then looked back at her, a faraway look in his eyes. “Maybe if I hadn’t, your mom would have—”
He stopped abruptly with a quick shake of his head and plastered a smile on his face. Amanda grimaced. She knew he was talking about her mom’s affair with Michael Deveraux, who had later been instrumental in killing her. Back then, her dad had been what could only be described as “boring.” Marie-Claire, ever the exciting and flamboyant parent, had sought excitement elsewhere. Amanda herself had often wondered if her mom would still be alive if her dad had only been more exciting—or, at least more vigilant in guarding his wife from other men.
She, too, shook her head. It was too late to change the past. Maybe her mom’s death had been inevitable, anyway. She might have died any number of times or a number of ways since, like others had a few days before.
She glanced at Pablo. The others of his coven, Philippe, Armand, and Alonzo, were still missing. She wondered if he could feel anything from them. If they were dead, he would be alone in the world. Except for us. She grimaced. We might all be dead soon enough.
Her thoughts drifted to the others who were missing: Sasha, Silvana, Kari, Holly, Dan, and Tante Cecile. No, she corrected herself, Tante Cecile is dead, killed by the demons possessing Holly. The reality of that hit her hard, but she had to let herself care. Otherwise I’m no better than Michael Deveraux.
Then there were the two who were certifiably missing. Jer Deveraux was still trapped in the Dream-time, where he and Holly had gone to rescue Barbara. The Goddess only knew if he was alive, but Amanda prayed he was. The other, Amanda’s twin, Nicole, had been kidnapped by Eli Deveraux and James Moore right before the battle had broken out. Amanda clenched her fists at her side. I swear I’ll find you and get you away from those monsters.
Richard spoke, interrupting her thoughts. “All right, first thing’s first.”
He retrieved his wallet from Barbara’s pocket. He pulled out several bills. “Tommy, you look more presentable than the rest of us. Go buy some clothes for everyone, including the others. We also need medical supplies and food.”
Tommy took the money and saluted. “I’m on it,” he said, already heading out the door.
Amanda felt herself starting to panic as he left, but her father’s voice snapped her attention back to him. “Amanda, I need you to look after Barbara. See if there’s anything you can do to help her, a spell or something. We need her intact, both body and mind. Also, can you set up an alarm, sort of a magic-motion sensor, to let us know if anyone is coming?”
She nodded. “I think I can do something like that.” Her stomach started doing flip-flops. She was not at all sure she could do as he asked. Holly was the strongest of them. Still, she would try.
“Good, get started,” Richard instructed his daughter. He saw the fear flashing in her eyes, but he saw resolve there as well. That was good. It was best to give her a challenge, something for her to worry about besides Tommy’s safety.
He turned to Pablo and sized up the young man. “I understand you can sense others?”
The boy nodded. “That’s how I found you.”
“That’s what I figured. From what I heard Nicole saying, you can also keep others from finding us?”
He nodded. “I can keep them from finding us using magic means, but not ordinary ones.”
Richard nodded. “That was our mistake with the cabin. It was an obvious place to look for us. This, at least, is a little less likely. There are dozens of places we could have come out of the forest that were a lot closer to the cabin, in case they’re looking for us. We should be safe for a litt
le while, at least.”
“I don’t think he’s looking for us yet.”
“Good. Now, have you felt any of the others?”
Pablo shook his head glumly.
Richard reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Try, Pablo, please.”
He didn’t tell the boy that he had seen one of his coven die. Until Richard knew who it was, he wasn’t going to upset him.
No sooner had the thought entered his mind than Pablo glanced at him sharply, eyes narrowing. He felt pressure, as though, someone were pushing against his brain, trying to get in. He pushed back. Don’t go there, boy.
Looking startled and guilty, Pablo dropped his eyes. Richard gave his shoulder one last squeeze before standing up. He moved as far away from the others as he could in the cramped quarters.
Tommy returned sooner than Richard had expected. Amanda called out an alert, and a moment later there was a knock on the door. Even as Richard opened it for Tommy he knew they had to have a lot more warning than that in case the next arrival was not so friendly.
The young man dumped his findings out on the bed not occupied by Barbara. He had several sets of sweatshirts and sweatpants all sporting the logo WASHINGTON. He also had socks, a newspaper, a small first-aid kit, and a bag full of groceries. “There’s a general store right next to the lobby,” he explained.
Richard nodded, grabbing a pair of sweats and some socks and heading to the bathroom to change. Clean and now warm, he emerged feeling like a new man. Amanda headed for the rest room next and while she was in there, Tommy and Pablo also took the opportunity to change clothes.
When Amanda reappeared she gave Tommy a fierce hug, which Richard dutifully appeared not to notice. Amanda had always been his baby. Nicole had been flamboyant, wild, more like her mother. Amanda, though, had always been strong and steady. For years it had been the two of them against the rest of the world. As happy for her as he was, it was still hard to see his little girl as a woman.
Pablo broke into his thoughts. “I feel people!” he said, his voice cracking with excitement.
“How many?” Amanda asked.
“Two. I feel Armand and Kari.”
* * *
Kari stumbled along, Armand’s strong arm supporting her. The last thirty-six hours were a blur of pain and confusion. She didn’t even remember leaving the cabin. Armand had spoken only a few words to her. All she really knew was that the cabin had caught fire, he had carried her out, and the others might be dead. Several times she fell and thought about staying down, but every time, he picked her back up and spoke a few encouraging words.
So, she marched on, unsure what the future held, or if there would even be a future for her. How had she gotten herself into this mess? She was just a grad student; she studied the occult, she didn’t participate in it. That had all changed, though, when Jer Deveraux had introduced his dangerous world into her life. Not like she’d given him much choice.
She didn’t dare ask Armand if he knew what had happened to Jer’s body when the cabin caught on fire. Jer’s spirit was on an astral plane, trapped in the Dreamtime. At least, she hoped he was just trapped and not dead. If his body had been destroyed, though, it was moot. If he had no body to return to, his spirit would wander forever. Or maybe it would just vanish instantly, she thought.
She tried banishing such thoughts from her mind, but it wasn’t easy. Love was hell and she was the queen of the damned.
Seattle, 1904: Peter and Ginny
Ginny stood on the train platform as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Her husband, George Morris, was already on board, waiting for her. In moments they would be steaming their way toward Los Angeles, leaving behind everyone else she loved.
Her father, Peter, wrapped his arms around her. Together they had been through so much: the death of her mother in the Johnstown flood, the journey west to settle in Seattle, and the tears and pain and unexpected joy when he had found dear Jane, who had become his second wife.
She stepped back, wiping the back of her gloved hand against her nose. It was an unladylike gesture, but she didn’t care. Peter touched his hand to her cheek, and she closed her eyes, imagining that she was once again small and that he would always be beside her.
“Los Angeles is not that far away,” he tried to reassure her, his voice cracking.
It was a lie, and not a very convincing one. Los Angeles was a world away, and the thought of leaving him and her half-sister was overwhelming. As though sensing her thoughts, Veronica spoke up.
“I will come visit you when you are settled, I promise.”
Ginny looked to her sister and saw her pain mirrored in the girl’s face. She had the eyes of a child and the body of a grown woman. How easy it was to forget that they were a few years apart in age.
Then Veronica flew into her arms, and they embraced tightly, each fearing to let go. At last Ginny whispered in Veronica’s ear, “I know you are young, but Father will accept Charles and permit you to wed if you just give him a chance to see how good he is to you.”
Veronica’s slender form began to shake, racked by sobs that she muffled against Ginny’s shoulder. They stood for a moment more until the conductor shouted the last call.
Ginny reluctantly pulled away and quickly kissed her father’s cheek before stepping up onto the train. She clasped the rail with one hand and waved fiercely with the other as the train groaned and began to slowly move.
Her father and Veronica waved back, and Ginny kept waving until they were lost from her sight. Tears streaming down her face, she turned and entered the car. Her husband, George, was waiting for her and held out his arms to her. She sank down into the seat beside him and spent her tears upon his breast. He stroked her hair gently, murmuring words of love and comfort that she scarcely heard.
“I am eager to start our new life together in Los Angeles, but I’m afraid that I shall never see Father again,” she whispered.
“Nonsense. He can come visit us anytime he likes, and we shall be back soon to see him,” George tried to reassure her.
His words brought no comfort, though, for she had seen something when she’d kissed her father’s cheek: a gravestone with his name on it. He was going to die soon, she could feel it.
Be at peace, my sister. The gentle words whispered in her brain in Veronica’s voice. All will be well and we’ll be together again soon.
She fervently hoped so, and she felt herself relax slightly. Since she had been born, Ginny had been able to hear Veronica’s thoughts. It didn’t happen all the time, just when Veronica was concentrating and Ginny’s mind was open. It didn’t go the other way, though. Veronica had never been able to hear Ginny’s thoughts.
She sighed and looked up at her husband. She and George had been married for only four months, but it seemed like they had known each other forever. I wish I could read his thoughts, she fretted. She pressed her hand against her stomach. I wish I knew what he is going to say when I tell him about the baby.
“Is everything all right?” he asked suddenly enough to startle her.
She stared into his eyes, searching. Was it possible he had heard her? His eyes were clear and innocent, though, with no mysteries or knowledge hidden within them. No, it was a coincidence. She forced herself to smile. “As long as we are together, it is.”
He gave her shoulders a squeeze, and she felt warmth spreading through her. It was good to be in love.
Mother Coven: Santa Cruz
Luna, the High Priestess of the Mother Coven, was in trouble and she knew it. One by one, every woman who had survived the massacre had questioned her or had thought about it. Anne-Louise was the most vocal, but everyone was wondering what had gone wrong and beginning to doubt their High Priestess’s intentions.
Truth is, they’re right to doubt, she thought. Holly Cathers and her coven are an inconvenience, to say the least. Then, House Cahors has never played by anyone’s rules but their own. Still, maybe I’ve judged them too harshly. Amanda seems like a departure from th
e rest of her families. She’s gentle and eager to please the Goddess and others. Luna sighed. For Amanda’s sake, if nothing else, she should act. Besides, the covenates were restless, and that was never a good thing.
That was why she was sitting alone in her chamber surrounded by purple candles and burning mugwort and wormwood. She had to find Holly Cathers and she was going to need magic to do it.
She sat quietly, a bowl of water before her ringed with even more of the purple candles. She hummed softly to herself as she pricked the tip of her forefinger with a needle and squeezed three drops of blood into the bowl.
“One for Holly, one for me, and one for the Goddess,” she murmured as she did so.
She stared at the crimson spot in the water for a moment and then closed her eyes. She breathed deeply.
“Goddess, I come to you seeking that which was lost, that it might be found, a Cahors witch is somewhere around, grant me sight that I may see, where on earth this witch could be.”
In her mind’s eye, a face appeared and she gasped in surprise. It was not Holly’s.
THREE
DECHTERE
Within the fire we dance and laugh
We sacrifice on the God’s behalf
Light the pyres and ring the bell
Summon all the fiends from hell1
Surround us now in cloak of night
Rejecting the Horned God’s light
Death we are and death we bring
Striking from the sacred ring
Veronica Cathers Covey: Los Angeles, September 21, 1905, 11:00 P.M.
“Must you really leave in the morning?” Ginny now asked, as she hugged her sister in the lobby of the Coronado Hotel. It was a large, spacious place, and there was an actual cobbled walkway in front of the entrance. Ginny and Veronica had spent their childhoods in much lower-rent neighborhoods in rainy Seattle, where even boardwalks were a rarity... making mud a commonplace.
Veronica tried to laugh lightly, but it came out more as a sob. “If I could stay, you know I would, but I must get home to Charles and the baby.”
“But Seattle is so far away!”
